Just about everyone was wrong. Hmm…? …Possessed people can't walk over iron lines. The panic room is made of salt-drenched iron. Remember 'Skin' and 'Nightshifter'? Light makes the shifter's eyes flare white, like a camera flare. I rest my case.

Why do I have a shapeshifter? Keep reading. :)

Sadly, I only own spelling errors, maybe a demon or two, and a very mean shapeshifter.

.x.x.x.

Chapter 9. Revenge—Best Served Cold

Bobby had heard the rumble of the one of the trucks out back, but paid it little mind as he had his hands full with demons.

Then, suddenly, he didn't, as they exited their hosts and flew out the shattered windows, disappearing into the night.

Well, most all of them anyway.

The woman who'd spoken to them from outside the panic room was trapped beneath the Key of Solomon, shrieking for all she was worth. Seeing the grizzled hunter, she stopped, a coy smile on her lips. "You're too late you know," she told him, a small laugh deep in her throat. "Not like you had a chance to begin with."

No… He swung his head towards the basement.

"That's right," she taunted. "You'll find that he's long gone, Singer. You and Winchester have failed." She flashed her polished white teeth. "Where's your God now?"

Bobby ignored her and rushed for the stairwell, pushing passed the dazed, wandering people who'd survived the possession. Afraid of what he might find, or wouldn't find, he took the stairs two at a time down into the basement and swung the door to the panic room open wide.

The demon had been telling the truth. Sam was gone.

Bobby bent down and picked up the brown dog, his hands trembling as he held it. "No…"

And Dean? He'd seen him come down here, he was sure of it. So where was he? Not seeing the older Winchester, Bobby went back upstairs hoping, praying, that he just missed the youth. Then heading into the kitchen, he found him. "Dean!"

The hunter lay haphazardly on the floor, limbs askew. Bobby dropped down beside him, fear knotting his chest and he checked for a pulse. He breathed easier. It was there, strong, if a little fast. Bobby slapped the pale cheek lightly. "Dean, wake up, kiddo. Ya gotta wake up for me."

Dean groaned. "B'bby? Wha-?" He opened his eyes.

"Sam's gone."

"What?" Dean shot upright, nearly banging his head against Bobby's. "No! How can this be? I locked the door; there's no way he could've gotten out!"

"What do you remember?"

"I—I…" Dean's brow furrowed. "Man, I might've been seeing things, but I think I got the knock-out from myself."

Bobby studied the younger. "Yourself?" His eyes widened. "Unless…"

"What?" Dean could see Bobby was onto something.

"Shapeshifter."

Dean frowned. "Why would a shifter help demons? That doesn't make sense."

"Unless they had something to gain from it," Bobby pointed out.

Dean swallowed with difficulty. "Sam…"

"Gone."

Dean nearly broke then, his façade crumbling, threatening to be overwhelmed by emotions. "Where—?"

"One demon got left behind. We'll ask her."

Dean nodded, trying to compose himself. "Let's get to it then."

.x.x.x.

"Sammmmmmmyyyyyy."

He squirmed as the soft feminine voice called him back to awareness, a whimper finding its way past his lips. He felt terrible; his head throbbed incessantly, sharp pain shooting through his skull each time, and his stomach twisted this way and that along with it.

"Sammmmyyy."

It was louder now, more persistent. He struggled to obey, wearing himself out even as he did so.

"Come on….thaaaaaaat's it. Good boy, Sam. You're such a good boy."

"It's a kid, not a dog," a man muttered from somewhere above him. "Why are you being so nice anyway? It's sickening."

"He's sick—"

"Really?" said another. "Well, personally I could give a shit."

Dean? It certainly sounded like him, but why was he so mean?

Then he remembered. It wasn't Dean, just someone that looked like him.

"You should care!" the woman snapped. "If he dies, you're life is forfeit. Why did you have to hit him so hard?"

"He was being annoying," came the response.

"Most children are. By the way, your skin is sagging."

"What? Shit…" There was a rush of footsteps across wooden flooring, then the slamming of a door.

"'bout time," the other man mumbled. "I was getting sick of seeing that damn hunter's face."

"Stop your bitching. Using that face is what got us the boy."

"De…?" He couldn't help himself. He wanted his brother, his real brother. Dean would save him from these bad people.

"Sam? Sam, you feeling okay, baby?"

He scrunched his face up. Not a baby… He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, seeing the outline of the woman's face hovering about his own. "Wh'r De?"

"Shhh, it's okay, Sammy." She said, avoiding his question. "It's going to be okay."

A glass was lifted to his lips and cool water dribbled past his lips. He drank it greedily, not realizing how thirsty he'd been, but it was taken away all too soon and he began to squirm again.

"No…! De…!"

It was a bad move on his behalf and his stomach rebelled against him. He rolled onto his side just in time and threw up.

"Ugh…disgusting!" the man said.

The acrid smell of puke invaded Sam's nostrils and he threw up again.

"C'mon, help me before he chokes!"

Someone pushed him into a sitting position and shoved what seemed to be a bucket under his nose. His stomach twisted again and again, and he barely had enough time to catch his breath before his mouth was full of the vile remains of the day's meals. During all this time someone rubbed small circles on his back, helping him through the process until he was subject only to dry-heaves. He collapsed in their arms, too weak to keep himself on his knees anymore.

"Sam?"

His stomach settling down, he peered up fuzzily at the woman, whose wavy dark hair tickled his chin. She seemed very familiar, but his head hurt too much to see straight, let alone focus. "W-wan…De…"

"Dean's not here, Sammy."

"N-no… NO!" He wanted Dean! Adrenaline kicked in and he lashed out wildly, punching, kicking, and biting.

"Sam!"

He ignored the appalled, instead fighting to get away. "Deeeeeeaaaaaannn!"

"Hold him!"

Feet pounded the floor heavily as people rushed over to him, multiple hands grabbing for his flailing limbs.

"Ahhhh!" he cried. "Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannn!" Then, "Daaaaaddddddyyyyy!"

There was a tearing sound and something sticky was wrapped round and around his wrists, binding them together; same went for his ankles. He screamed again, both in response to the pain that shot through his head and in fear.

"Damn it…shut him up!"

A strip of duct-tape was plastered on his lips, immediately reducing his terrified cries to muffled whimpers and sniffling. Now bound and gagged, he could move little beyond wiggling like a worm and say even less. Deeeeaaaaannnn!

Then he was thrown over someone's shoulder and bounced along as he was carried off, moments later only to be dropped unceremoniously onto a hard mattress. Another door slammed, leaving him alone.

Not knowing what else to do, he cried. Tears fell freely from his eyes and poured down his face, soaking into the surface beneath him. Exhaustion swept over him as the last reserves of his energy was spent, despite his best efforts to try and stay awake.

Monsters…

He shivered.

Dean?

He was cold then, very, very cold.

Please, De…

Dean…

Sleep dragged him under, thoughts of his brother following close behind.

.x.x.x.

What a mess.

Between over a dozen innocent people dead, those alive wandering around in confusion, and a demon that wouldn't talk, Dean was ready to beat the crap out of something. Probably the demon, but who was he hurting? Just the poor woman it was possessing.

All in all, just a huge waste of time. Time they couldn't spare.

And now that the sun was just peeking over the distant hills, he wondered if it were already too late.

He threw his head up to the sky. "CAS! Castiel!" I'm calling you dammit; so show up already! He kicked the dirt in frustration. "CASTIEL!"

He better come or I swear to whatever higher power I'll tear his wings off!

"That would not be advisable."

Dean swung around. The angel stood a few feet away, tilting his head in that damn annoying way that made the hunter grit his teeth. "You could have done something!" he accused, curling his hands into fists. "You could've stopped this! But did you? No! Were you too busy singing in the angel choir or something that you couldn't wave your hand and make the demons go poof?"

"I was preventing a seal from being opened—"

"A seal is being opened, with my little brother being the damn sacrifice! If he hasn't already—"

"No."

Dean glared at the angel. "Oh, so you were paying attention. You son of a—"

"Tonight," Castiel cut him off. "During the harvest moon."

Dean's shoulders slumped. "He's still alive? That means we have time…"

Castiel nodded.

"If you knew," Dean growled, "then why didn't you do something?"

"I was ordered not to intervene."

"Ordered not to?" Dean gave a dry laugh. "Of course, I forgot. You can't think for yourself. You're just someone's obedient little lap dog running around fulfilling order after order. Do you get a nice doggy treat to go along with that?"

"Dean—"

"No!" Dean snapped. "Just go. It was a mistake to call you."

Castiel's eyes glanced up warily. "There is an old farmhouse 56 miles east of here. That's where your brother is."

Dean studied the angel, giving a nod of thanks. "Knew I could count on you, Cas." He turned to go, then stopped, another question nagging at him. "Cas…the thing that took Sam…it was a shapeshifter, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"But why would a shifter work with demons?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Cas?"

"Pennsylvania," the angel replied.

"What?" Dean frowned. "What about—" Oh. "But he's dead. I killed him."

"You did, but he had a brother."

"He… Shit!" Dean swung at the air. "So what? Taking Sam was some sort of revenge?"

"It was. He wants you to feel the same hurt he did when you killed his brother."

"No…" Dean dropped to his knees. "No no nonononono…"

Castiel moved to his side. "There is still time. Do not give up so easily." He grasped Dean's upper arm and pulled him back up. "Get your friend and go. I will…" he looked around, noting the damaged state of the house, "clean up."

"Thanks, Cas."

Castiel dipped his head, and when Dean blinked, he was gone.

Reviews are food. Feed me!

Tee-hee. Can anyone guess who the female demon hovering over Sammy was? Swellison, I thank you for this idea!

I have a request, for anyone who can spare their time. I'm in need of some Latin exorcism rites or...even better, something that could relate to Sammy's predicament (pure soul of a hunter sacrifice thingy). I know crap about Latin. I tried using an online translator, but none I found worked too well. A friend of mine suggested I make something up, but..heh...the last time I did that, I accidently insulted someone. Oops...