YAY! I'm sooo happy to hear a lot of you liked my first original hunt (though it was inspired by the Two and Half Men episode)... this next hunt is going to be short, mostly to push for character development. Setting it up, I have this chapter (a bit shorter than usual), but I wanted to remind you guys of certain facts that I may have barely mentioned in previous chapters. Also, the top half is a bit, um... vivid, so apologies if it bothers you... and the last section is more light-hearted, so please KEEP READING! okay, well then, ENJOY! (favorite/follow/review too if yah want)!

Chapter Eighty:

The smell was awful. Rancid, sour, and charred, the scent of burnt, rotted flesh nauseated the brunette as she crawled through the darkness.

The ground was moist and squishy as she dragged her aching body through the pitch-black tunnel, pausing only to vomit from the overwhelming smell.

She knew she couldn't stop. She had to make it out. She had to get to them.

The blood-curtailing screams sent shivers up her spine as waves of panic and fear pumped through her pulsating veins.

Then, after what felt like ages, she saw a dim light ahead.

Picking up the pace, the psychic was almost out of this Hellish rat-like maze, and as she found the opening, her blue-green eyes were better able to make out just what she was crawling through.

The sight was horrendous. A carpet of mud and feces, crawling with maggots, beetles, cockroaches, and many other assortments of creepy-crawlies which would have skeeved anyone out; however, that wasn't the worst part.

There was a thick, goopy stream of crimson blood dripping from the low ceiling, drenching the young woman's now matted hair, and as she kicked open the rusted grate keeping her confined in the tunnel of decay and death, Laura Norwood tumbled out and into a massive pool.

The water was freezing, but she welcomed it, hoping to rinse her torn up body from the filth she had just crawled through.

Popping up, she sucked in the air, her smoke-filled lungs burned as if they were on fire, but the second she opened her eyes, she was sickened to find that this small body of water was filled with various dead animals. Decomposed fish, deer carcasses, torn apart rabbits, headless rodents, and countless bones with flesh flaking off them all floated around her.

Her stomach hitched, and she emptied her stomach again, but upon hearing a new rash of louder, and much closer shouts of pain and agony, the psychic swam through the thick, mucky water and dragged herself onto the dirty brick floor of the sewer.

Standing up, she listened, straining her eyes through the dim light, only able to see due to the small sewage grate a few stories above her head.

And as more screams rang out, the brunette took off, ignoring the stinging pain of her sliced open abdomen as she sprinted through the maze of dark, dank corridors.

"Help! Oh God, please! Somebody! Help me!" the cries were deafening, and Laura could feel her heart thumping wildly against her chest.

"I'm coming!" her raspy voice croaked. "I'm coming! Hold on!"

The closer she got to the yelling, the more slick the brick floor became, and at first Laura thought it was her own hemorrhaging wound that was wetting the floor, but upon a quick glance at her feet, she soon realized that it was trickling from a few small cracks just above her head.

"Keep yelling!" her voice echoed in the tunnel, and as the poor soul obeyed, Laura knew that she needed to go up a level.

Spotting a small grate above, she jumped up, crying out in pain as her large wound tore even more.

Pulling up her own quickly weakening form, the psychic was able to climb up and into a bright, white room.

Eyes blinded, she caught her breath and couldn't help but think how odd it was for such a clean, almost sterile looking place to be located just a few feet from the bile she was stuck in for ages.

Blinking furiously, she pushed herself off the cold, white tile ground and squinted, taking in the completely blank room, containing nothing but brilliant fluorescent lights which dangled from a seemingly endless ceiling.

"Hello?" she called out, voice echoing as she clutched her stinging wound, trying to keep her guts inside and stop herself from bleeding out.

"HELP!" the voice was shrill.

"Where are you?" she yelled back, wiping her dirt and blood encrusted hair out of her bruised and battered face. "Where are you?"

"Please! Someone!" the voice echoed louder and louder.

Spinning around frantically, Laura's blue-green eyes landed on a pure white door, blending in with the furthest wall.

Taking off, she ran and threw herself at the door, knocking it down and taking her with it.

The other room was just as bright and clean, but rather than being empty, there stood about a dozen gurneys, strapping down various individuals.

Picking herself up from the floor, Laura stumbled to the closest one, eyes widening in horror when she saw the mutilated corpse of Dr. Andrew Goodwin.

Holding back another fit of sickness, she pushed passed his dead body and came up to another two tables lying side-by-side, holding the dead bodies of both Ellen and Jo Harvelle, who seemed to have met a similar and horrific fate.

The screaming had stopped the moment she entered the room, but now, small whimpers could be heard, forcing Laura to push forward, unable to mourn the dead until she could save the poor soul stuck in this nightmare.

Limping her way to the next line of three oddly clean examining tables, the brunette didn't want to see who else's lifeless forms were lying there like some sick, dissected lab experiment, but she couldn't help herself.

Letting out a shaky gasp of both shock and grief, Laura's tearful blue-green eyes landed on the three cold, ripped open bodies of Rufus and the Chambers.

"Oh God," she cried, stumbling forward and looking at Krissy and Lee's pale forms, eyes wide open and cloudy. "Oh God…"

"Please…" the voice whispered, as Laura tried her hardest not to collapse onto the cool tile floor, ready to give up. "Please…"

Pushing herself away from the bodies, she tried to calm herself down and furiously brushed her tears away with her muddy and bloody arm.

"I'm here," she called back, voice shaking. "I'm here."

"Please…"

Shuffling on, she then saw a massive circle of gurneys and an old chair in the middle of them. It seemed so out of place, considering the rest of the room was spotless and somewhat modern looking… and then there was that rotted, medieval wooden chair with its back facing her.

Tentatively, she forced herself into the circle, terrified to see who inhabited those steel examining tables, so blocking them out, she slowly walked around to the front of the chair, leaving a trail of bright red blood as she went.

There, head hanging, sat Dean Winchester.

"Dean!" she immediately rushed to him, voice trembling as a massive lump began to form in her throat, choking her. "Dean…"

"Please…" he mumbled, unable to lift his head.

Eyes landing on the shackles locking his arms in place, Laura immediately released him, only then to realize that strangely, the motionless eldest Winchester seemed to be completely unharmed.

Last shackle falling to the white ground with a loud, echoing clank, Dean slowly raised his head, but instead of staring back at her with his bright green eyes, the eldest Winchester's sinister gaze was demonically black.

Jumping back, the pale and extremely weakened Laura Norwood gasped, falling as Dean stood over her with a wide, evil sneer.

"You're never going to save them," though his voice was the same, it seemed demented and darker.

"Dean…" she muttered apprehensively, as she crab-crawled as far back as she could, eventually running straight into a gurney.

"Get up," he commanded, eyes still black.

"I… I can't," she began to weep, body feeling numb, and as her hopeless eyes floated down to the massive slice in her stomach, her insides peaking through.

"I said get up," he grabbed the young woman by her crusty hair, yanking her frail, colorless body to its feet.

Yelping in pain, he held her in his iron grip, face mere inches from hers.

His black eyes examined her pathetic body as he chuckled.

"Dean…" she whimpered, but before she utter anything else, a stabbing pain shot throughout her entire body, making her high-pitched screams vibrate violently throughout the room.

Looking down, she saw Dean's hand jammed deep within her deadly wound, and as she tried to jerk away, he only tightened his grip around her hair, trapping her.

"Dean! Stop! Please!" she shouted and cried, the agony unbearable. "This… this isn't… you!" she could barely breathe through the pain.

"Oh, yes, it is," he hissed, his hot breath on her face.

"Please," tears rolled down her dirtied face.

Laughing hysterically, he then pushed her to the ground, and as she fell, she gripped her freely bleeding wound and lay on the floor in fetal position.

Body convulsing, she had never felt such pain, and wondered why she wasn't passing out or going into shock.

"Laura?" Pamela's weak voice caused the violently shaking brunette to lift her heavy head and look up.

Dean was still watching her, but upon hearing her deceased best friend's voice, the psychic grunted and groaned as she yanked herself up, using the nearest gurney.

Dizzy, her blurred blue-green eyes landed on the fileted corpse of Pamela.

"No!" she croaked, going to the psychic's side, touching her cold, blank face. "No!"

"Laura…" another female voice sounded.

Tears flowing freely, Laura turned and ignored the eldest Winchester's cold laughter once she realized her mutilated mother was lying beside her best friend.

Feeling sick, she cried out in despair: "No… no, no, no… mom…"

Then, two male voices began to call to her, and as she turned, following the circle of familiar bodies, more and more voices began to call for her.

Lying lifeless and dissected, were the rest of her family: her dad, Karen, Bobby, Sam… and as the whispers grew to maddening shouts, Laura's wide, glassy blue-green eyes landed on Dean's dead body beside the youngest Winchesters.

With the incessant, reverberating shouts making her fall to her knees and cover her ears, she looked towards the demonic eldest Winchester, but rather than still taking Dean's shape, there now stood Dan.

"Make it stop!" she cried, "Please! Make it stop!"

Shrill laughs only contributing to the deafening calls of her tortured and deceased loved ones, Laura rocked herself on the ground, hands clamped around her ears, eyes shut tightly, and screamed out: "STOP! STOP! STOP!"

Then, suddenly, everything went silent.

Slowly lowering her hands, Laura sat upright as her tearful eyes fluttered open. Dan was gone. The bodies of all her friends and family had disappeared as well, leaving the out-of-her-mind psychic alone with a singular figure sitting smugly in the rotted, wooden chair.

"Some imagination you have, love," Crowley crossed his legs, sipping his glass of Craig with an amused expression. "I honestly considered taking some notes."

"Crowley!" she was still trembling, face streaked with salty tears, however her voice was dangerous. "You did this?"

"Darling, this is all you," he sighed, leaning back lazily. "Just wanted to pop by and have a chat, but you were asleep so… I came in here…"

"In where?" the thoroughly confused and disorientated brunette rose to her feet, mind still spinning over what she had just underwent.

"In your head," the King of Hell responded with a small grin, "and I have to say… it was very entertaining…"

"I'm… I'm dreaming?" she asked, blinking a few times, realizing that her wound was gone and her body was no longer covered in blood and excrement.

"Cheers to you," he raised his glass, sarcastically toasting to her genius.

"Why wouldn't you wake me up?" the psychic hissed, eyes blazing furiously.

"As I said before, watching this was a gas," he replied simply, arms grandly outstretched.

"And how about those five months you just let me lie there? Replaying shit like this over and over?" Laura stepped forward, expression stormy to say the least.

Making a face, Crowley pursed his lips and said flatly: "Who told you? Moose or Squirrel?"

"Squirr… Dean," the frustrated young woman snapped before bending down to get into his face with a look of pure hatred: "And I should really kick your ass for that, you deceitful, double-crossing dick!"

"Nice alliteration," his brown eyes stared lazily back at her.

Face twitching, the enraged brunette threw a punch, only to have it caught mid-air by the now standing demon.

Face no longer pleasant, the man in the black suit twisted her arm, causing the young woman to grunt in pain.

"Now that wasn't very polite," he spoke evenly, though his brown eyes were furious.

"Neither was letting me rot in a coma," she hissed, wrist smarting something awful.

"King of Hell… got bigger things to worry about than your petty problems," he released her rather gruffly before fixing his suit.

"Yeah, well I'll be sure to keep that in mind when Abaddon comes to waste your sorry ass," the young woman snarled.

"I'm sorry… what was that?" he furrowed his brows, cupping his ear. "That sounded like a threat… but you can't be that thick to start threatening me…"

Folding her arms, Laura stood her ground: "Why? Are you feeling threatened?"

"Listen closely, little rabbit," his voice was strained from the pure rage he was trying to stay in control over. "You best start minding your manners…"

"Or what? You'll kill me?" she challenged the demon some more.

"Don't think I won't… I may be employing you at the moment, but I could easily find a replacement… and trust me, I've considered it," he stepped into the brunette's face. "You haven't been a very lucrative investment."

"Excuse me?" Laura's offended face was contorted with anger: "In case you forgot, I…"

"Beat Lucifer, I know," he barked, cutting her off. "But that was back when you had your grace… when you were actually useful. Now you're just a weak, ordinary, waste of space," his words were biting, cutting straight into the somewhat stunned psychic. "So I'd learn your place, and fast, before that mouth of yours gets you, or one of your mates killed. Yeah?"

Fuming, Laura didn't quite know how to respond. She had been feeling inept and pathetically powerless ever since she woke up, and now, hearing it said out loud, regardless who said it, made the psychic's heart sink.

Closing her slightly open mouth, she took a small, submissive step back, her confidence completely shattered.

"That's better," Crowley eyed the pitiful human as if she were a mere insect, and then he shouted: "Now… wake up!"

Eyes popping open, a sweating Laura sat right up in bed, panting as she looked around, and as she sat there, catching her breath, the young woman's mind replayed her horrific nightmare; however, the most troubling thoughts that crossed her mind was that of just how puny and average she really was.

She no longer had those amazing abilities, and strangely enough, without the powers she used to hate so much, the psychic felt as if a vital piece of her being was missing.

Simply put, Laura Norwood felt empty.

Bobby Singer sat in the library, skimming the massive stack of papers he had compiled about the various missing hunters while arguing on the phone in a hushed voice.

"No… I'm sayin' you're wrong," the bearded hunter adjusted his cap with a look of complete frustration. "Cause you're a damned fool if yah think somethin' like that can pull off abducting some of the best hunters we know…"

Hearing a car pull up in the driveway, Bobby frantically shut the file and shoved it under a large pile of books just as the brunette came into the house in with the Winchesters.

"N-no," Bobby turned his back to the kitchen, listening to Laura and Sam picking on Dean over something that happened during their outing. "I said no! Cause we've checked that lead out before and it was a dead end…"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the surly hunter's head throbbed. This debate with Rufus was reaching an all-time record in length, and as always, speaking with his old friend was similar to bashing his head into a brick wall.

"I'm sure… well… cause I said so!" he growled, shaking his wary head. "Yeah, well now your just bein' sensitive… mhm… well shove it up your ass, yah damned idjit!"

Slamming the phone down in vexation, Bobby suddenly had the feeling that he was being watched, and low and behold, as he turned around, there stood Laura, holding two beers.

"Thought you might want one of these… guess I was right," she walked over, eyeing him closely with a small, crooked smirk.

Nodding his head, Bobby thanked her as she sat beside him.

Sipping their beers, the psychic then asked: "So what was that all about?"

"Oh… that?" Mr. Singer cleared his throat. "It was nothin'… just Rufus bein' a royal pain as usual…"

"Rufus?" the brunette leaned back in her chair, facial expression one of both interest and confusion.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Is there a case or somethin' he needed a hand with? I could go," she offered.

Ever since her little talk with Crowley a week ago, the psychic had been researching and training non-stop, trying to heighten what little abilities she had left, as well as coming up with some clever knew weaponry to make her a threat again. Now, all she wanted to do was find a hunt and prove to herself that she was still a relevant force to be reckoned with.

"Ugh, nope, no case," Bobby shook his head, his eyes fixated on anywhere besides the psychic's probing stares.

Furrowing her brows, Laura knew something was up. Bobby had been acting strange for a while now, and always seemed to be keeping something from her, and she was growing tired of it.

"So then why'd he call?" she sipped her beer, eyeing the bearded hunter intently.

"I don't know… to talk?" he mused out loud, voice a bit strained.

"Didn't know you were that close," the young woman muttered, obviously suspicious.

"Well… we are," Bobby lied defensively, shooting her a look.

Raising a brow in amusement, Laura wasn't going to buy it or back down: "All you two do is threaten to kill each other…"

"You keep pesterin' me, he ain't gonna be the only one I threaten," Bobby muttered, sipping his beer.

Chuckling, Laura decided to fold. She'd find out what he was hiding sooner or later, but she wasn't about to keep bothering the all ready irritated hunter. She wasn't that stupid.

Putting her hands up in defense, she then sat back in silence, finishing her beer and watching the hunter read some newspapers.

Glancing up at her steady and intent gaze, Bobby frowned and asked: "You gonna stare at me all day or do somethin' useful?"

"I got nothin' to do," she innocently shrugged, grinning a little over irking him some more.

Grunting, he opened the drawer and yanked out a file.

"Was gonna give this to some hunter down in Salt Lake City, but here…"

Taking the file that the surly hunter gruffly handed to her, Laura opened it as Sam and Dean moseyed on into the library, still bickering.

"Yeah, yeah… keep laughin' Sammy… but keep an eye open when you sleep," Dean muttered sourly, clearly referring to some sort of prank war they had recently became engaged in.

Glancing at the two brothers with an impatient look, Bobby sighed as Laura continued to ignore them and read.

"Aw, don't tell me you're still mad I put a couple stink pellets under the mats in the Impala," Sam chuckled.

"My baby stinks!" Dean barked, obviously not finding the youngest Winchester's prank remotely amusing. "It's gonna take forever for her to air out…"

"I'll take it," Laura spoke up, interrupting the Winchesters' banter. "But don't think I don't know you're just tryin' to get rid of me…"

"I am," Bobby Singer spoke grumpily, before nodding to the two completely lost brothers. "And take 'em with you…"

"But… the Impala…" a whiny Dean tried to get out, but a snappy Bobby soon cut him.

"I said get!"