hello everyone, me again :) welcome to my new story. this one follows the events of Shadow Stalker and By the Wayside, and falls third in the series. you dont have to read the first two stories to understand this, as the basic info will be recapped throughout, but i do recommend reading them anyway.

i am sorry By the Wayside seemed a bit confusing with the different story lines, i didnt really lose control because it was outlined that way, my novel idea just didnt work out. but, the story served its purpose in the series. :) and i liked it. lol.

warning: this story is dark. darker then Shadow Stalker. it is listed as horror for good reason and it may be a little hard for some people. if you are sqimish or have problems with certain ideas (ie: human sacrifice) you may want to turn away. you have been warned.

that said, let me know what you think of this little teaser chapter.

D: i dont own anything pertaining to supernatural, i'm just in it for the fun.

WHAT BECOMES OF US

Chapter 1

It had been three weeks, three long and grueling weeks of silent shrugs and half hearted comments. Everything about their lives had changed, the world having shifted so suddenly that it sent both brothers falling to the hard ground below. It was like being lost in a waste land, neither hunter knowing what to do, how to fix everything that had gone so terribly wrong. Everything about them had changed, their lives lost somewhere in the hunt, their souls hanging in the balance.

Whoever knew things could be so hard, get so complicated. Dean wondered that over and over again, the thoughts consuming him, challenging him, driving him mad with each breath he took, each beat of his aching heart. He had failed as both a hunter and a brother, failed at everything he was supposed to be. And now, sitting silently beside his now stoic little brother, he wondered what exactly he was supposed to do, who exactly he was supposed to be.

He wasn't Dean Winchester anymore, that much he knew for sure. Dean Winchester protected his little brother, Dean Winchester hunted evil, triumphed over the darkness. He, on the other hand, sat beside his brother for five months, somehow missing the fact that he was possessed. And then he had lost him, his baby brother putting his own life in danger to save him. It wasn't right, it wasn't the way life was supposed to be, and it was all his fault.

Sam sat as still as death, his body not even twitching as he leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger window, his deep brown eyes staring out over the empty landscape around him. He felt different, off, empty. There was no other way he could describe it, he just knew, deep in his bones, that he was changed, used. He had never really thought about the after effects of possession, about what having your body invaded by a demon could do. But now, ever since the Asura, he found himself wishing that he had taken better notice of those they had exorcised in the past.

He was always so cold, always so distant, his mind running a mile a minute, senses far away from the world around him. It was almost as though apart of him was now permanently locked away in his mind, as though a piece of his soul was diseased, contaminated, lost to him forever. And it was awful. He wanted so much to tell Dean, to ask him for help, confined in him his fears, but that bridge had burned somewhere along the road, and the river of emotions beneath was too much for either brother to cross. Dean had become an island, protected my razor sharp reefs, and Sam was a sailor lost in an angry sea. And neither one could protect themselves against the coming storms.

They had been raised to be hunters, raised to rid the world of the supernatural. But, somewhere along the way they had become lost, unguided, broken. Sam was tied to the yellow eyed demon and Dean had escaped the clutches of death itself. They were raised to fight the darkness, not become apart of it. They had made deals with a demon and let their secret lives be announced to a very eager public. All in all, they had lost their way, and both knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle for them to be found again.

And their father, what would their father think. He had been calling them nonstop, leaving message after message on both his sons' cell phones but neither brother answered, neither one even acknowledged the fact that their phones were ringing. They had lost more then just the battle, they had lost themselves, lost their purposes, their reasons for being, and they knew that their father would not accept that. He had raised them better, raised them smarter, and he would be disgraced to see what they had become.

They were the shells of the men they had been, the hollow reminders of what life had taken away, what reality, fate and destiny had robbed them off. They were supposed to be so much more, supposed to be the strong and brave Winchester brothers, the best hunters around, top of the field. But now, now they were nothing more then broken children, nothing more then the remains left behind after a fire twenty five years past.

Everything had become so much bigger then them, the bad guys so much stronger, the consequences so much costlier, and they were reaching their end, both brothers so weary, so tired that a light breeze would blow them away. They were the heroes who's story had ended.

"You hungry?" Dean asked, his voice horse and tired, eyes never leaving the road ahead. It had become something of a dance, their conversations only long enough to get the point across, words only spoken when there was no other alternative. Gone was the banter, gone were the pranks, gone was so much of what made them real. And, if asked, neither one would be able to say where their souls went. They just seemed to get lost, disoriented, left fallen by the wayside.

"Sure." Sam's voice was cold, but there was nothing he could do to change it, the shadows that had settled upon him since the possession wouldn't let his words come out clearly, wouldn't let his mind focus fully. It was like losing to a cancer, everything about him fading away a little more each day. He was dying, and he didn't know why, or how to stop it.

And his depressed soul did not want to ask anyone for help, a part of him feeling that his suffering was justified, a price paid to his wonderful mother and beautiful girlfriend. A price paid to his loyal brother, and his wayward father. Not one of them had asked for this, not one of them had to live this life, it was all his doing, and so, he felt the pain was justified. After all, it was all he had left to give.

Dean pulled off the dusty highway about twenty minutes later, bringing the impala to a stop in an even dustier parking lot. They were in the middle of nowhere, but, to Dean, that was everywhere these days, so it really was rather fitting. He couldn't help but notice how freakishly still his brother had become, or how frighteningly hollow his once bright eyes had grown. He wanted to reach out for him, wanted to help him, wanted to save him. But how can you catch someone while you yourself are falling? He wanted and needed to save Sam, but he just couldn't do it without someone saving him first.

He would never say it aloud but the older Winchester was drowning, being pulled down deeper and deeper by the ever darkening world around him. Who was it that was supposed to save the hero? Who was it that was supposed to be there for the champion, rescue those who rescued others? Those were the questions Dean found himself asking over and over again, his tired mind wondering just who in this tumultuous world had the power to save him.

They made there way to a back booth in silence, sparing only enough words to order their meals before both men were again lost to their inner demons, the walls built so high around them that not even a giant could scale them. They were falling, fading, sinking, and they needed someone to save them.

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Megan Marshal left the library later then she had expected to, time slipping by her as the deadline for her research paper loomed ever nearer. Whoever thought college was all fun and games was sadly mistaken, psychology 101 was a bitch. But thankfully, Megan thought, a bitch she would soon be done with. Spring break was a mere two weeks away, and things were beginning to look up for the struggling freshman.

She turned quickly, her dark eyes scanning the empty ally, the noises she had just heard echoing through her frightened mind. Footsteps, she could have sworn she had heard footsteps approaching slowly from behind. But no, her mind must be playing tricks on her, there was no one behind her and no place for them to have gone so fast.

"Keep it together, Megan." She reprimanded herself in a low, unsteady voice, feet still locked unmoving to the cold pavement beneath her. It was all her imagination it had to be. Damn Trevor, she thought bitterly as she began to walk again, still casting nervous glances over her shoulder. He had been telling her stories all night, telling tall tales about the weird girl that always sat in the back of the library, almost invisible except for her eyes.

Melinda was her name, yeah, Mad Mellie is what he had called her. Said she watched her family being murdered and that's why her eyes bugged out the way they did. Stupid boys with their stupid stories. It was very mean of him, she thought, very low to make jokes about a shy and fairly ugly girl. Maybe if people were nicer she wouldn't come off as such a freak.

Megan froze again, the light laughter echoing behind her stole her breath away, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as a cold breeze whispered down her spine. Someone was behind her, there was no doubt about it, but she couldn't figure out where they had come from. The alley was empty, there had been no place for a human to hide.

"Who's there?" She questioned weakly, still too scared to turn around, too terrified to face her attacker.

The faint voice snickered again. "That awful boy calls me Mad Mellie."

"Look, I'm sorry. He's a jerk, you shouldn't listen to what he says." Megan answered, relaxing slightly as she turned around, ready to make peace with the shy girl standing behind her.

She was met by large bulging eyes and a sadistically twisted smile, the girl behind her staring at her as though she were made of gold, or worst yet, a starving man's next meal. The smile grew wider still across her taunt gray face as Megan's terror grew. Her blue irises slowly began to float upward as the whites if her eyes took over, the bulging orbs glowing in the dark night, deep crimson blood dripping freely from her smiling mouth.

And the silent night was suddenly broken my Megan's blood curdling scream.