Hey Y'all!

So I kinda lied and said I would be done by Wednesday, but that didn't happen :(

I plan to write a few more chapters though so it left my short idea of just three.

I also, don't know how, but I forgot to update this story

If John had been worried about his sons before the phone call, that was nothing compared to now.

"-could join us in this funky town Sam and I found ourselves." An enemy has us.

"I'm a little tied up-" Dean's incapacitated and won't be any help in a fight.

"-real fun times." It's a human.

"-little rascal." Sam's in danger.

Cursing, he hopped back in his truck, trying to locate the piece of paper where he wrote down the girl's address from when he talked to Dean earlier. It took him longer than he'd like to find the small note, but as soon as it was in his hand, he was sprinting to the front desk at the motel, asking the harried woman behind the desk for directions. When he got back to his truck he was taking off like a man out of hell, hoping to get to his son's before anything too bad happened. He wasn't naive enough to think that they would be completely safe, he knew Winchester luck existed, and that it wasn't in their favor. No, he could only hope to get there in enough time to minimize the damage.

Breaking every speed limit in the town, John was only too happy that it was christmas eve so nobody was out driving that night, meaning he got to the house in twenty minutes. John grabbed his gun, running to the door with the weapon ready, not knowing what to expect, although the large mansion of a house definitely threw him off. He almost thought that he'd gotten the wrong house when muffled screams seeped through the large wooden doors. Gritting his teeth at hearing one of his children being hurt, he raised his leg and kicked the door, glad that despite the large door, the family used small screws for the lock. It burst open easily and he rushed inside, following the sounds of screaming and angered yelling. Finally he found the source and he wanted to gag.

Dean was bound to the mantle piece, but his struggles made the handcuffs rip into his skin, sending rivers of blood down his arms and soaking his shirt. Besides that, the older teen seemed to be okay physically, but his straining muscles and yelled threats brought John's attention to the middle of the room.

There was Sam, screaming into a bandana and hogtied on the floor, the young boy flipped on his side. Standing over Sam was a woman, who looked to be about Dean's age, with blonde hair and a good figure, but that wasn't what John was focusing on. No, he was focusing on the bright orange poker burning into his baby's chest.

"Get the hell away from my son!" he growled, startling the young woman who almost dropped the poker, but she did pull it away when she twirled around to face him. The oldest Winchester relished in the fear he saw in the girl's face as she focused on the gun aimed at her head. "Back away from Sam." she hesitated, "Now." the low growl raised the hairs on the girl's neck, he was sure of it, as she stepped slowly away from Sam, who was panting hard through his nose, his eyes slightly out of focus due to the pain. "Now put the poker back into the fire. Slowly." She slid across the floor as John moved closer, not allowing a couch to be in the way of getting this girl.

But it seemed the girl still had some sort of brain, not a smart one by any means, but still a brain. Instead of placing the poker in the fire place, she whipped it towards Dean, the young man yelping in surprise as the heat of the poker brushed his face. She had the burning poker aimed at his eye, the metal was cooling slightly but it didn't matter if it burned or not if it went through his eye socket.

John gritted his teeth as he readjusted the grip on his gun. Damn girl doesn't know when to quit. Yet she knew how to put them at an impasse, and for that John would make her pay.

Tears. Burning. Pain.

The moment the hot poker was placed against his arm that's all his world dwindled down too. Somewhere in the distance, outside of his haze, he could hear Dean yelling, the threats he was making towards this crazy woman who held a burning poker to his younger brother. How he would tear her fingers off, shoot her, gut her, and at a few moments suggested various places where she could shove that poker. Sam would've laughed if he wasn't in so much pain.

The burning would only last for a few seconds that felt like hours to him before it was removed and placed somewhere else on his body. Right bicep, left foot, middle of his back, and she was still going, didn't she only say three?

"Have you learned your lesson yet Sam? Have you learned not to be so needy?" Millie leaned down to whisper in his ear after the one on the back of his neck. He nodded. Winchester pride be damned, he wanted the burning to stop. A soft hand brushed against his face, wiping the tears that had soaked his cheeks. "Shh, there's no need to cry. It will be over soon." She pushed him onto his side, his shoulder yelling in protest at the pull of the ropes. A desperate cry ripped from his throat as she went back to retrieve the poker.

"Hey! You said three!" Dean yelled, fruitlessly struggling against his bonds as Millie picked up the hot metal, setting her sights back on Sam. "Millie don't you dare touch him again or I swear to God, when I'm done with you there won't be anything left for the police to find." The threat had actually made her pause, just for a moment.

"I lied." She said sweetly before pressing the poker against Sam's chest. His screams ripped through the air as Sam's world narrowed to Burning. When his mind could focus again, he saw John Winchester with a gun pointed at Millie, who was pointing the poker at Dean.

Instinctively he called for his brother, and for a split second the older teen's eyes moved to him before snapping back to the poker. It was the more immediate threat.

"Drop the poker." his father growled. To anyone else he would seem perfectly in control, just a perfectly harnessed fire of fury. But to Sam, he knew that his father was scared. It was in the small hand adjustments on his gun, the slight pinch between his eyebrows.

"Drop the gun." Millie countered, and apparently she was just a few screws too loose to realize the danger she was in, or she did and thought she could get out of it. "Now." She emphasized the command by touching Dean's shoulder. While the poker had cooled off somewhat, it still elicited a hiss from his older brother. Their father narrowed his eyes before slowly lowering to the floor.

Hey y'all! so I hope you enjoyed it!

AO3 was given the option to vote on how I handle Millie, but I made my decision so I'm sorry y'all don't get this option (although no one commented on the vote anyway so they didn't get a say either)

Please review! I love reading comments!