Thanks for all the follows guys! Looks like I will definitely be continuing this story. Enjoy the next chapter. They will get longer after this.

Running. People do it for a lot of different reasons. Some do it for exercise, or to blow off steam. Some do it for the thrill or to raise money for a needy cause. But most do it for another reason. Most people do it to get away from something…or someone. To escape. In her case it was exactly that. She was running to escape her life and everything that that entailed. She was running to escape the fear and the pain. The isolation and the torment. But most of all, she was running to escape from…Him.

HE had told her once, long ago, that she was his favorite, that she was HIS star. Well now HE knew what the star could really do. They would all remember this day as the day they failed to hold her captive even a moment longer. She was finally free and there was no way in hell that she would ever go back. She'd die before she went back…

So, ignoring the screams of the others, she ran. The wind flew freely through her long dirty brown hair and the rain whipped at her pale skin like needles, but it was glorious. She didn't dodge the branches and bushes that nipped at her flesh, instead she ran through them. The pain from their cuts making her feel alive again for the first time in twelve years. She had no idea where she was going… but she sure as hell had the freedom to go there.

And if, in the back of her mind, HE started laughing…well, she brushed it off as a residual effect. HE couldn't hurt her anymore…not anymore…

Six Months Later

Dean slumped down onto one of the remaining two bar stools in, Steve's Place, a dive bar just outside of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and ordered a beer. He'd just wiped the floor with some poor pathetic drunk at a game of pool and was now in the mood to celebrate. He was on a roll these days. Five consecutive hunts without so much as a single scratch. Daddy would've been proud…if the bastard even cared. Shaking off the morose thoughts of the past, he took a look around the place as he waited for his drink. It was pretty much like every other bar he'd been in for the past few months. Dark, dreary, and smelling faintly of urine. Everyone in the place looked like they were one drink away from ending it all. He felt like that some days as well but it was to much of a hassle. Besides, he still had things to do.

"Here you go."

Looking up, he noticed that the bartender looked as happy to be there as everyone else. She was pretty hot though. He smiled seductively at her as he grabbed his beer. She just rolled her eyes and went to help another patron. Eh, whatever, can't score all the time. He sipped at his drink and sighed. The celebration was pretty pathetic even by his standards. Calling it a night was seeming like a better idea all the time. He figured he'd finish his beer and head back to the motel and crash. Deep down he knew why he was in such a depressed mood but he really didn't want to think about it.

"Hey you!"

He was roughly pulled backward by his collar and fell off the bar stool. He landed hard on his back but immediately jumped up and spun around to face his attacker. It was the idiot he'd beaten at pool.

"What the hell asshole?!"

"You cheated me outta my money! Give it back!"

Dean brushed off his jacket and smirked. "Hey man, just because you suck at pool doesn't mean I cheated your ass. You should practice more."

He brushed past the guy with every intention of leaving when he was grabbed again. Now he was getting pissed off. He was not in the mood to deal with this.

"You ain't goin anywhere until I get my damn money back."

Dean jerked his arm free and then did what he had to. He took a swing. His fist connected with the man's jaw and he crashed to the floor. As soon as the guy hit the ground about three more goons came running over. It looked like Dean was about to get his celebration anyway.

Making his way back to the motel, Dean rubbed his arm and laughed ruefully. What a mess. First he gets shot down, then he gets in a bar fight, which results in him getting thrown out of said bar, and he didn't even get the chance to get drunk, or even relatively buzzed. He just wanted the damn day to be over. The whole reason he'd gone to the bar in the first place was to forget what the following day was. The day he dreaded every single year…the day he lost everything. Deciding he wasn't quite ready to give in yet he changed direction and began wandering off toward the park a few blocks away. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head.

It was always like this. He felt bad about trying to forget…but remembering was just far to painful. It was his fault after all…as his father liked to remind him. Dean sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. He was a twenty three year old man. He shouldn't be wandering around a park at one in the morning wallowing in self pity.

Slam!

"Ugh!" He yelped out in surprise as someone ran into him from behind. He fell forward and landed hard on his side.

"What the hell?!" He yelled as he looked up to try and see who or what had hit him. He was just in time to see a figure vanish around the corner of the recreation building in the middle of the park. The thing was closed for the upcoming winter so it was basically abandoned. The perfect place for some asshole to hide in. Dean decided enough was enough and quickly got to his feet before picking up the chase.

By the time he reached the corner he was only able to hear the back door slam shut. He reached into his waistband and pulled out his knife…just in case things got messy. The darkness made it hard to see but he'd spent enough time hunting in it to do alright. He carefully made his way toward the door, listening for any sounds of movement. When he heard nothing he gently turned the doorknob. It was strangely quiet and the door opened soundlessly. He figured that whoever was squatting must have WD-40'd the hinges to remain hidden. Smart move. He closed the door gently and slowly made his way inside.

Despite being closed, the place was still well maintained, for which he was very grateful. It meant he wouldn't accidentally trip over something in the dark. There was still no noise and it made him wonder if, whoever it was, knew he was inside and was waiting to jump him. He brought his knife out in front and kept walking. He rounded a corner and found himself in some sort of storage room. There were pool toys and tons of other crap for kids to play with in the nice weather. He was about to turn around and head back the way he came when he heard it. It sounded like a can rolling across the floor. He turned his head toward the sound when suddenly he was hit from the opposite side and both him and his attacker slammed into a pile of boxes.

In the ensuing struggle he managed to lose his knife but it appeared he was fighting just a normal human person. Nothing supernatural. What really shocked him though, was the fact that it appeared to be a woman.

"Hey, calm down you crazy bitch!"

She disregarded his words and continued to attack. She appeared to have some training judging by the fact that he was actually having trouble getting the upper hand. They rolled across the floor, with her kicking and scratching and punching, the entire time. Dean was just trying to get a hold of her arms to get her to stop. Then suddenly her face became illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the small window and Dean froze. Her eyes…Dean knew those eyes.

Sensing a moment to escape, the girl jumped off of him and started running for the exit. Dean quickly shook off his shock, deciding he had just imagined things and pulled his gun from his waistband. There were no real bullets in it because he hadn't changed them out since his last hunt, but rock salt would be enough to slow her down. She was just about to reach the doorway when he fired. The impact sent her crashing into the wall beside the doorway and she crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious. He grimaced at the imagined pain. He hadn't exactly meant to knock her out. At least now he would be able to get a better look at her. He pulled out his flashlight and pointed it down at her prone form. She looked fairly young, maybe around nineteen or twenty. Her hair was filthy and it looked like she hadn't bathed in months. The hair covered her face but she was very pale underneath the dirt. He ran the light up and down her body when he noticed something strange. It looked like there was something carved into the flesh of her exposed left wrist.

Dean knelt down and brought the light closer. When he saw what was there his eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Carved into her pale skin was…his name. Right there, plain as day, was the word DEAN. All capitals, and slightly faded, it looked like it had been there for years. It was then that the girls eyes flashed through his head and a terrifying possibility entered his mind. But it couldn't be, he reasoned. It had been twelve years…there was no way it was her, no way it could be her, but…

"Sammy?"