Hey everyone! I had wanted to write a Valentine's Day story, but was working on this instead so I decided to just post this and give you a little angst. Sorry :P Anyway, I realized it had been a while since I did a pre-series story, and this idea popped into my head so I decided to give it a go. I was hoping to keep this kind of canon compliant, but it might be considered slight AU so keep that in mind. Otherwise, enjoy :)

I'll Come For You

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

That morning when Sam stepped onto the bus, he never would have guessed the hell that was to follow.

It was a long holiday weekend, and he was taking the day to go up to San Francisco to pick up a few things that he needed, and also, hopefully to shop for a birthday present for Jess; even though it was a month away, he didn't have a lot of time to get out, and she was busying studying this weekend so she had declined his invitation to come along. He had been invited to several parties back on campus, but truthfully, he was kind of enjoying the idea of having a day alone to do whatever he wanted. It just reminded him of all the times he couldn't take that luxury as a kid.

He paid his fare and found a seat, settling in with a book—the third Harry Potter. He was taking his weekend to do some reading for fun. Overall, it was looking like the start to a relaxing holiday.

At the next stop, a man got on the bus, looking around a bit before he chose to sit right next to Sam. Sam wasn't entirely happy with this development, seeing as there were still several unoccupied seats open in the back, and he wasn't in the mood to talk to strangers today. He glanced up, quickly able to ascertain the make of the man beside him—a trick he had never gotten over, even though he wasn't hunting anymore. For the most part, he looked like just a normal, middle-aged guy, with brown hair and dark eyes, and a bit of five o'clock shadow on his chin. He was maybe a couple inches shorter than Sam, but had about 60 pounds on him, making him look bigger. He was normal enough though, which was why Sam couldn't figure out why he had a bad feeling about him.

He tried to concentrate on his book, ignoring the man, not really caring if he came across as anti-social, but after another few minutes, he heard the man sigh a bit in a contented way and lean back in the seat.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he replied. Not replying would just make him look like a jerk. Besides, he was being stupid and paranoid.

"One to remember," the man added as if to himself. "Or at least it will be."

The hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood on end. Okay, that was weird, although again, it didn't have to be malicious, even though all the training his dad and Dean both had hammered into him over the years would say differently. The rational, normal part of his brain that had gotten more exercise since he had been at Stanford told him that maybe the guy was going to propose to his girlfriend or something.

Then he stretched his arm across the back of the seat and leaned toward Sam, causing the young man to freeze. "You know, I'm getting the feeling you're giving me the cold shoulder, Sam."

This made Sam react, his eyes snapped up to his unwanted companion. "How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I know you, Sam, I've been watching you for a while. Uh-uh, don't think about getting up, we don't want to make a scene, now do we?"

Sam sat, frozen, trying to keep his voice calm and quiet. He didn't want to make a scene either. Who knew what this man wanted with him, he didn't want anyone else getting hurt. "What do you want?"

The man smiled with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, Sam, it's simple. I just want you." His eyes suddenly flashed black, and Sam's breath caught in his throat.

"You're a demon," Sam hissed, his heart pounding. He was reaching into his backpack, where he always carried a knife—he may not hunt anymore but he wasn't stupid.

"Bingo," the demon said, eyes back to normal now. "Now I hate to ruin your holiday weekend, but I've got my own deadlines to meet, and it just so happens I need you for something important, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't make a scene."

Sam swallowed hard, a thousand different scenarios rushing through his head as to why this demon would want him. The first and foremost thought was that his dad or Dean or both might be hunting it and if he were taken, he would only be used as leverage. And that just wasn't going to happen. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, Sam, Sam, Sam," the demon said, shaking his head as he slid his arm down around Sam's shoulders and leaned in close, making Sam's skin crawl; to anyone else it looked like two friends having a confidential conversation. "Hate to break it to you, but you don't really have any choice in the matter. I can take you out of here by force easily enough and you know it. It's nothing personal, I'm just following orders."

Sam found the knife and was about to pull it out and stab the demon with it, when the thing grabbed his wrist in a numbing hold and Sam dropped the knife back into his backpack.

"Nuh-uh, that's naughty, Sam. I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way." Sam watched in horror as the demon wrenched his wrist around to expose his inner forearm and produced a syringe from his coat. His grip was too tight for Sam to struggle away and he was smashed against the window anyway, so he could only watch as the needle entered his skin and the demon pressed the plunger down. Almost instantly, he began to feel woozy and light-headed. The demon patted his shoulder roughly.

"Easy, Sam, don't go passing out yet. We don't want to make a scene when we get out of here."

There was a stop coming up, and Sam watched it approach with rapidly blurring eyes. The demon leaned toward him again. "This is our stop, Sam. Think you can stand?"

Sam didn't know whether he should make a scene or not. On one hand, he thought that maybe if he did, the demon would get annoyed and leave, but more likely, it would just get innocent people killed and Sam couldn't let that happen. So he allowed the demon to grab his elbow and help him stand up. He swayed, but he was still able to mostly walk on his own, trying to keep suspicion away from himself. He almost fell down the bus steps, but somehow managed to keep his feet, grabbing the pole for the bus stop sign to keep himself steady once he was on the sidewalk. Then the demon was back at his side, grinning in his face.

"Now watch this, Sam, this is where it gets interesting." He snapped his fingers and Sam wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but then screams started to sound from the bus, and smoke could be seen in the windows, soon replaced by flames. People were running around inside, screaming, and trying to open the emergency exits but seemed unable to. The demon must have done something to them.

"No!" Sam yelled, the effort making him even more light headed than he had been. He fumbled for his phone with the plans to call 911, but the demon slapped it from his hand.

"We might want to step back, Sam," he said, dragging the young man backward.

"Stop it!" Sam cried. "You have me, why do you have to hurt them, they didn't suspect anything!"

"Oh, Sam," the demon said, shaking his head. "You don't get it do you? No one can know where you are or come looking for you. This is a cover up. This is where you die as far as anyone else is concerned. Oops, almost forgot." He reached into Sam's back pocket and grabbed his wallet, tossing it toward the flaming bus. "From this point on, Sam Winchester, you are a dead man walking."

"No!" Sam cried again, but he was already losing consciousness from whatever he had been drugged with, his vision blackening around the edges. He stumbled and tried to catch himself, but his body wouldn't respond. The last thing he saw as he lay on the concrete, not even remembering how he got there, was the bus exploding it bright orange flames, and then there was nothing.

Dean Winchester was not having a very good day.

To start off, he had finished a job with a particularly spry poltergeist that had proceeded to throw him around until he had finally managed to burn the object it had been attached to, so he was busted up pretty bad, then he had to quit town because the job had gotten a little hairy and breaking and entering were still not allowed apparently, even if you saved lives. Now he was sitting in a diner just off the highway, which was out of pie, and he still hadn't heard back from his dad even after he had left at least twenty messages in the past week. The man had been gone for nearly three weeks now when he had said he was supposed to be gone for one and a half tops. But Dean shouldn't really have been surprised. After all, that was kind of how it had always been. But things had gotten better recently with them hunting together on most jobs; though as usual, one small tip sent John off to the ends of the earth. He never said anything, but Dean knew they were tips he thought would lead him to what had killed Mom, and in a way, that made Dean even angrier, because he thought he deserved to go after the bastard as much as his dad did. Still, he thought he was owed at least a heads up, or a check in every once in a while.

As he paid for his greasy, sub-par meal and headed back out to the Impala, he didn't think there was any way his day could possibly get worse, until the call came.

Dean was just fumbling for his keys when his phone started ringing and he snagged it quickly, hoping it might finally be his dad, but he didn't recognize the number. Frowning he flipped it open and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Dean Winchester?"

Okay, they knew his real name, that couldn't be good. "Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"Mr. Winchester, this is the San Francisco Police Department, you were listed as an emergency contact for your brother, Sam Winchester," the voice over the phone, sounding like a middle-aged woman, continued.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Dean's stomach, churning the greasy food he had eaten. "Yeah, what happened, is Sam all right?"

"I'm sorry to have to inform you, Mr. Winchester, but your brother was a victim in a bus accident that happened earlier today."

Dean braced himself with a hand against the hood of the Impala, trying to make sense of what the woman was telling him. "W-what do you mean, 'victim'? Is he hurt? Where was he taken?"

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry, you don't understand; your brother did not survive the accident. There were no survivors."

Dean folded, his knees giving out, and he sank down to sit against his car, his hand gripping the phone so tight he thought it would crack. "He's dead?" he whispered, hardly able to utter the words.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry for your loss," the woman told him gently. "If you have any questions, please let us know. I know this is a hard time, but we would like you or another family member to come to the department in person."

Dean didn't really hear the rest. He let the phone slide into his lap as he sat there, staring up at the cloudy sky. He couldn't believe it. Sammy wasn't dead, Sammy was in collage studying hard and making a life for himself. Life not….

Dean wrapped his arms around the ache in his chest, so strong that he doubled over. But the worst part was that he was too shocked, and in too much pain to even cry, because how the hell was he ever going to learn to live without his little brother?

He had never felt more alone than in that moment.

Sam woke slowly through a haze that made him feel like he was floating. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, not the worst waking he'd ever had, but there was something in the back of his mind that told him he needed to be conscious, that he was in trouble. Why? Was he on a hunt? Had he been hurt? His first thought was that Dean would be furious at him, because he was scared, of course, but he didn't want to put his brother through that so he forced his eyes open.

He didn't know where he was. He had no recollection of it. It was dark, and all he saw when he opened his eyes was blurry shapes. But after a few minutes they focused, and he was able to make out some more details. First of all, he was sure he was underground, in a basement or something, because it was cold and felt damp, and there was no natural light source. In fact, there wasn't much light source at all, just a couple droplights hanging on the other side of the room. He was lying against a brick wall, and the floor felt like cement, though he had been put on top of a dirty old sleeping bag to add a little padding, at least. His head hurt a lot…had he hit it?

He closed his eyes and eventually the memories started to come back. No, he wasn't hunting, he had been at collage for two years now, he had gotten out of the life…or not. Then what—

He gasped as he suddenly remembered the bus and the demon and then the fire—all those people, they were all dead. And it was all because of him.

Sam tried to sit up, his head pounding, and his body sluggish, but all he managed to do was get tangled in some chains that were manacled to his wrists and attached to the wall somewhere above his head. Sam pulled at them anyway, even though he knew it wasn't going to do any good.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. Yeah, he knew it was probably only his captors who would hear him, but it was better than being left in the dark waiting to find out what they wanted him for. "Hey!" he shouted again.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps somewhere above, sounding like they were coming down stairs, and then a door creaked open, letting in some more light for a minute before it closed. Sam looked up as a tall figure entered the room, and it was only when he stepped into the meager light of the basement, that Sam recognized him as the demon who had taken him from the bus.

"Well, look who's awake," he said with a very unpleasant smile. "Welcome to the party, Sam."