Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.

Synopsis: Set at the start of Season One, Dean had been in a wheelchair since his father disappeared more than a year ago and he finally has to tell Sam… There'd been an accident that night and Dean had paid a very high price….one he still doesn't understand. The story will have some hunts from season one and possibly into season two…the brothers will continue their search for their father…there will be alterations to the hunts to accommodate Dean's new situation. I have every intention of returning Dean to good health before this ends…but getting there is going to be bumpy.

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, so all grammatical errors are my own. Not Slash. Brotherly love and Angst only…

Please Review: So I know there's still interest

Previous Chapter:

"Find anything?" His brother's gravelly voice floated through the tiny speaker.

"No Dean…I didn't find anything in the two minutes I've been inside the house." Sam didn't mean to snap at his brother's questions.

"Okay princess…I was just checking. Call me when you find something." The phone went dead and Sam clenched his teeth in frustration before shoving the phone back into his pocket.

A sound off to the right had him spinning and moving silently in that direction. His pistol pulled tightly against his chest, with his finger on the trigger as he searched for the origin of the sound. Sam slipped up against a door jam and then carefully peaked around the corner only to have a bat fly up into his face. He gasped as he fell backwards against a door near the pantry. A second later he was falling, his arms flailing helplessly as he tumbled through the busted door and down into a hidden basement with no stairs. His large body crashed to a stop at the bottom and his vision blurred as he struggled to look up at the dim light fluttering through the opened door. A lone figure stood there watching with a malicious twinkle in its supernaturally bright eyes before the door pushed silently closed, a click resounding in the space, and Sam was thrust into utter darkness. Momentarily blinding pain pounded inside his head and he reached up touching the painful spot, only to pull away from the warm sticky liquid running from the wound on the back of his head. "Shit…" He muttered, when the pain in his arm registered too.

He wanted to panic when he realized that his flashlight had been broken in the fall, along with at least one rib and definitely his right arm. He pulled the painful limb tight against his body and groaned as he forced himself into a kneeling position, blindly feeling around for his lost gun. His long fingers brushed across something soft and furry and he snatched his hand back when it squeaked at him indignantly. "Fuck!" He cried as the movement sent fiery pain lancing through his left side. "Damn-it…"

The sounds of shuffling and the weak scratch of claws on the cold hard dirt had Sam's head spinning in several directions. He needed to get his back up against a wall of some kind, because he was obviously not alone down here and Dean had no idea where the hell he was. That sparked a thought and he let go of his right arm long enough to reach into his jacket pocket in the hopes that he hadn't lost his cell phone too. He let out a sigh of relief when his palm brushed against the small device. A moment later he was swearing again when he realized that it didn't have a signal down here.

Reason 103 why I hate the woods. He thought in irritation. The scratching sounds were getting stronger and Sam had never wished that Dean had been with him so much in his life. He knew that his brother hated the dark, but Sam would have given anything not to be trapped and hurt…and alone at the moment. He shuffled backwards in an attempt to find the edge of the room. The pain his arm and ribs making his grind his teeth together. He wanted to call out for Dean, but whatever had closed that door was still up there…and it may not know that there were two them on this case. That might be the only leverage that they have…surprise.

A solid wall suddenly pressed against his questing hand and Sam sighed as he settled his back against it and dropped his eyes closed in an attempt to control the pounding in his head. Apparently, I managed to hit that too. He swallowed tried to keep from moving it too much.

"You never get out." A breathy voice echoed through the silence and Sam jumped and then swore as his rib shifted painfully.

"Who is that?" Sam called into the darkness. But there was no answer, just a mind-numbing silence. Had he imagined it? No…he'd definitely heard that. "What are you?" He asked again. But again nothing answered him and he pulled his eyebrows together in frustration and hope that Dean would get to him before whatever was in this house kept that promise.

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Chapter 45

Game Changer

Dean didn't like that he couldn't follow, or lead, his little brother in his search of the interior. He hated that he was forced to look for alternative ways to accomplish an already impossible task. Hunting the Supernatural. He rolled around the corner just as the first drops of the threatening rainstorm hit him in the face. He cast his gaze up and swore when he saw the lightning flash in the distance.

"Great, ground lightning." He grumbled as he forced his chair over the uneven terrain. The wind picked up like something out of a movie and whipped the increasing raindrops into a frenzy of painful assaults. His palms slipped on the mud that was caked on his tires and he felt his body slip forward, his elbows connecting painfully with the tread and metal of his wheelchair. "Sam?!" He called. He sat back up and listening for his brother's answer. Nothing. No sounds made their way through the intensity of the storm.

"SAM!" He called again. His big brother 'spidey sense' going into overload when there was still nothing but silence. He swore again as he rolled forward and stared at the rickety wooden steps like they were the devil himself. "Damn-it!"

He pulled back and rolled in the other direction, his gut sending back in the direction of what looked like a cellar door. He grimaced when he saw the chain and the enormous lock. He shook the water out of his eyes and brought is flashlight up for a closer look. "That's a shiny lock for an abandoned house." He said to no one. Dean pulled his lock pick out and made short work of the metallic lock. Once that was off he was able to grab the thick chain and pull it from the handles of the doors.

Just as he was getting ready to pull the heavy door open a crack of lightning caught his attention and he glanced up just in time to see something flying at his head. Dean threw his body to the ground, the squelch of mud drowning out the whistle of the object as it imbedded in the wood just above his head. "Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed as he rolled, his legs folding over one another in a jumble of flesh that would have made him cringe if he'd been paying attention. Instead his attention was focused on the form hovering about 8 feet from him. The specter's face was washed out, but Dean could see enough to know it was, or at least it used to be, a woman.

"He's mine. Leave." It ground out through rotted teeth. The patches of skin were shining through where hair should have been.

"Who's yours?" Dean managed as he pushed himself into a seated position, his back flush against the cement of the house's foundation. His eyes were frantically looking for any sign of Sam and he desperately hoped that the ghost didn't say what he thought it was going to say.

"He's mine! Leave!" It screeched into the rising winds.

Dean could feel the storm gaining momentum, the rain was starting to swirl and pelt him from all angles. His coat was soaked through and he could feel his teeth chattering as he sat in the freezing mud. "Give me back my brother and we'll talk." He answered. His fingers had been reaching for his pistol as he'd watched the ghost flicker in rage. Finally, Dean managed to get it out of the jacket pocket and he shot off two rounds in rapid succession. The specter screamed in rage and dissipated and faded into nothingness.

The chair was over turned, but Dean managed to get it right quickly and he ground his teeth together in frustration as he hauled his shaking body into the seat. He was just settling in when the ghost reappeared and he popped off three more rounds. It screamed again and disappeared into the thick night. The winds were whipping at Dean's cold form as he hauled the huge door back and peered into the inky blackness of the cellar.

"SAM!" He yelled.

XXXX

Sam heard his brother's call, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. It sounded so far away. He groaned as he carefully started making his way along the dirt floor. His questing fingers constantly coming into contact with things that he was glad he couldn't see. The smell was horrible. It was worse than Dean when he ate 5 pounds of beef jerky and was stuck in a car all day…and that was saying something. "Dean?" He called into the black.

The only answer was the frightened squeak of something in the distance. "Fricken rats…" Sam complained as he struggled to get to his feet. The rib protested greatly and he ground his teeth together to push the pain down. His arm was held immobile against his body; he'd managed to find his gun. Luckily their father had insisted that both he and Dean learn to shoot with either hand. But he wasn't happy with the development.

"You never get out." The voice whispered again.

Sam's eyes swung in several directions, searching for the owner of the voice. "What? Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter. Once you're in here; you never leave." It sounded like a small boy, but Sam couldn't be sure.

"Hey, hey…my brother's out there. He'll get us outta here." He didn't know whom or what he was reassuring, but Sam knew that Dean would find him. Dean always found him. He swore when he stumbled into a wood beam and his arm was jostled out of its protected position. "Fuck…"

"That's a bad word." The small voice said.

Sam gritted his teeth against the smartass comment that was on the tip of his tongue. "Yeah…sorry. How long have you been down here?" His own research had only uncovered a basic history about the house and the last several owners. But based on the fact that there was something in that basement with him made him think that he'd missed something.

"Don't know. Always, I think." A slight shuffling had Sam's blind gaze tracking the sound and something rubbed up against him leg. He pulled violently away from the contact and stumbled backwards. Sam landed in a very ungraceful lump on the cold ground. A flash of lightning lit up the room and there standing across from him was a boy. The kid appeared to be around 11 or 12 years old, with long dirty hair and bright inquisitive eyes. He did not, however, look like a ghost or a supernatural beast of some kind.

Sam pulled in several long breaths to steady his rapidly beating heart. "What's your name kid?" He blinked and then decided that he might be safer staying on the floor for the moment. This kid might be able to help him find another exit. The pain of his ribs grinding as the bones shifted had caught him off guard and he bit his tongue on accident. "Fu…" He bit off the curse when he heard an intake of breath from the kid. "…udge." He finished.

"Don't got a name." The small body moved forward and settled on the floor in front of Sam. "You can't see in the dark can you mister." It wasn't a question.

Sam blinked in surprise. "Uh…no. Can you?"

"Sure." The boy's small voice was so certain that Sam was taken off guard. It was like this kid thought that it was normal to be able to see clearly in pitch black. The storm's thunder clashed in the distance and the boy shook with fear. "I hate the storms…she's always angry when it rains."

"If you can see, why do you stay?" Sam asked. He was genuinely curious at this point. The boy had to know that he should be looking for a way to escape.

"I can't leave. Just like you can't leave." Something must have caught the boys attention because he moved away from Sam in a flash. "I gotta go away for a bit. But I'll be back."

"Wait, no." Sam started and then there was nothing where the boy's weight had been a moment before. "Shit."

"SAM!" The sound of his brother's frantic call had Sam scrambling to his feet. He didn't want Dean trying to crawl into this house and he didn't remember seeing a ramp anywhere.

"Dean!" He called back. His gaze was swinging in several directions before landing on a small patch of blue light at the end of the long room. He started the slow careful walk, his feet catching on a few things as he did.

"Sammy?!" Dean's voice was nearly hysterical as yelled through the opening on the cellar door. He was suddenly looking down at his little brother's dirty face. His eyes were blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the increased light. "Sam…you okay?" The shift in Dean's voice was instant. The relief at finding his brother alive and relatively well was nearly palpable.

Dean looked in and bit his lip as he tried to think of how to get Sam's enormous body out of that small door. He sure as hell couldn't pull his brother's gym loving ass up and leaving to find help wasn't an option. The rain was pouring into the room and Sam was already standing in about an inch of water. "Dean, there's a boy down here."

His brother's gaze flickered around the space he could see and he frowned when he didn't see anything. "A boy?" Sam could see the disbelief playing across his brother's worried features when he didn't see the boy. "What boy, Sam."

"He was here, Dean. I'm not sure where he went."

"Okay." Dean said. He knew if he argued with Sam then they wouldn't be getting outta here for a while and he wanted to regroup. "Are you hurt?" He'd noticed his brother's immobile right arm and the way he was leaning over his ribs. Which usually means broken ribs…Dad used to break mine all the time. He thought.

Sam shrugged and then hissed in pain.

"You're hurt." Dean said evenly.

"Yeah, Dean. I'm hurt. Busted arm and probably a couple a ribs too." Sam hated that he had to admit weakness. One thing about Dean? He never admitted weakness and that was the model that Sam had had to look up to his entire life.

"Are you leaving me, Sam?" The boys voice cut through the storm raging outside and had Sam's eyes swinging over. The boy looked beaten. His face was bloodied and he appeared to be limping, but it was the betrayal in his gaze that caught Sam's attention.

"This is my brother." He pointed at Dean's confused face. "He's gonna get both of us outta here." The boy shook his head in sadness.

"You never leave." The words were low and the boy's face was calm. The rain drops seeming to miss him altogether as he stared at the Winchesters.

"Well, we're leaving this time kid." Dean answered as he glanced over his shoulder where the spirit should have materialized already.

The boy took a deep breath. "No, you idiot…you will never leave." The shift in the boy's words set off the alarms in both brothers and they started moving with a bit more of purpose. Suddenly Sam was thrown backwards and pinned against the wooden pillar. His ribs screaming in pain and his arms thrust to the side. The doors to the cellar that Dean had been leaning over were slammed closed. As they did, Dean's jaw was struck by the old wood. He cried out as some of the splinters imbedded themselves in his chin and he felt his jaw dislocated. The searing pain nearly blinded him as he was forced backwards.

His brother's cry of pain had him pushing his way through the mud again and pulling desperately at the sealed wood. "Sam! Sammy!" He cried out. Agony clamored through his head when he moved his jaw and it 'popped' back into place. Another crack of thunder drown out the explicative that worked its way up his throat. He pulled his gun out and shot the wood several times, his body recoiling painfully from the concussion of the weapon.

Sam could hear Dean's rage just outside the cellar doors, but he was unable to answer as he struggled against the control the kid had. "What are you?" Sam managed through clenched teeth. He'd thought that they were going up against a ghost, but there was definitely something else going on here. "I'm just the messenger, Sam."

It was at the exact moment that Sam realized that he'd never given his name to the 'kid'. Dean had been calling it, but he'd never said it. "The messenger of what?"

Being cast back into the utter darkness with only the howling wind and a psychotic ghost thing wasn't how Sam had thought this day would end. He could hear Dean's fists beating against the wooden doors. "Your brother is a determined sort."

"You have no idea." Sam answered truthfully. "So give me this message." He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know what it was, but it might be the only way him and Dean get out of this.

"Not so quick. They're a few people that are really interested in talking to you, Sam…and by talk I mean torture…"

Sam's face fell and he cast his gaze in the direction of Dean's calls.

"I'm just kidding….but really, there are some things that want to talk to you." The voice said. It had shifted from a boy to a woman's and Sam felt the uncomfortable slide of fingers along his arms. For the first time he felt the goosebumps rise on his flesh and the hair at the nape of his neck stand up.

"Who are you?" He repeated through clenched teeth.

"I have a lot of names…mostly I go by Ruby…and I am so so glad to meet you. In person." She shifted his fingers and they trailed over his broken bones and he groaned in pain.

A sudden crashing from where Dean was at had her huffing irritation. "That brother of yours just doesn't know when to quite does he?"

"Not his strong suit." Sam ground out.

"I guess I'll have to go meet him in person then." She said and there was a sudden almost deafening silence in the darkness.

"Dean?" Sam called…nothing…no answer. "DEAN?!" Sam's voice reverberated through the room and he felt the first real tingles of fear trickle down his spine. It was like the water dripping off his face as the storm surged outside.

XXXX

Dean stared at the woman in front of him. Without his chair he was limited on his options as he stared at the blonde. She was athletic and cute, and if he'd been his normal self, he would have totally hit on her. But the black soulless pits that were staring at him in irritation weren't making a date seem very likely. She held her hand up and he felt his body slipping along the muddy soil until he was pinned against a stack of firewood.

She stepped forward and leaned over his prostrate form. "Too bad really. You and your brother are hot."

"You're not my type." Dean shot back. She threw her head back and laughed as a clash of lightning lit up the sky.

"I'm exactly your type, Dean. But here's something so the rejection doesn't sting for too long." She grabbed large rod and slammed it into the ground near Dean's tangled legs.

"Where's my brother?" He seethed.

"I'd worry about myself." She walked around the long metal rod and smiled evilly as she winked at Dean. "Lightning is such an unpredictable thing." And with that she blinked out, leaving Dean and the metal rod the tallest things in the field near the firewood. He started to crawl but a rumble in the earth had him glancing up as the electricity permeated the air.

"Shit…" He mumbled. But Dean continued to crawl toward the house…nearly a quarter of mile in the distance. "Stupid bitch!" He screamed into the raging wind.

TBC…

Author's Note: So I've been saying that I'd start connecting the dots on this one, so this is me keeping that promise while putting the boys in mortal jeopardy. Hope you guys like it.

Please Review: I would really appreciate you taking the time to say a little something.