Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, it's been an extremely long time since I've posted anything! I'm sorry! (ducks to avoid being hit with tomatoes) But! I have finally finished this story, so you won't have to wait too long for updates. I plan to post once a week, and there will be about four chapters to this story. I have another fic that is 90% done, so I'll have another one up in no time!

A/N 2: Okay, so there's more cussing in this fic than any of my others. You've been warned. Also, this is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own. This story takes place sometime after "Metamorphosis".

Disclaimer: Yes, I'll say it as I always do: I do not own the characters. They belong to Eric Kripke. But I wish I did.

The windshield wipers squeaked across the window back and forth, rain pitter-pattering against the car as they entered the small town of Far Banks, Wisconsin. Dean drove, one hand on the wheel while the other tapped a beat on his thigh as the speakers blared out a classic rock tune, relaxed and 'in the zone'.

Sam was quiet, studying the scenery as they passed by streetlights, watching as the lights illuminated the quiet little town. Neither one had said much in the last 100 miles; Dean's music making it almost impossible without turning the music off and Sam was for once grateful for the distraction. Things hadn't been the same since Dean found out about Sam's nightly activities which included fine tuning his abilities with the help from the demon Ruby. Sam didn't begrudge Dean's anger. He'd been right to be furious with Sam. But the verbal tongue lashing combined with the physical ones had certainly left its mark.

If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you. Sam squeezed his eyes closed and let out a tired sigh. Some of his brother's comments had hit to the bone, and though not unholy justified, it just plain hurt. If Dean couldn't trust him, if he didn't believe in him, then what did Sam have? Every decision he made seemed he was screwed if he did, screwed if he didn't. He never made the right choice, was always a disappointment to someone, and having Dean's disappointment hit harder than anyone's ever had.

He hadn't lied to Dean when he said he was done with his abilities. Why bother tempting fate? Seemed all fate tried to do was fuck him over, and Sam was just tired of getting screwed over, time and time again. Besides, these powers hadn't saved Dean, so why bother trying now? Sure, he'd saved people from possession, a subject that he was far too familiar with. And it had felt good to be able to at least help someone when he was floundering in his own grief. He'd thought he was helping, using this 'curse' and have something positive come from such a horrible and life long experience, but with Dean's reaction…

Speaking of, his brother must have picked up on his depressing and 'emo' mood, as his eyes glanced over at Sam, seemingly looking right through him and then turning his attention back to the road. Yeah, they'd both done the silent assessments the last two weeks or so. Dean wasn't insanely furious at him anymore, but anytime Sam wanted to go out on his own, Dean would just look at him, and Sam could feel those eyes assessing whether or not Sam had an ulterior motive to leaving. It always left Sam feeling just about an inch tall.

At least they were still talking, which Sam guessed was an improvement.

They had come across an article in the paper, a brief description on mysterious disappearances within the town, folks vanishing in the middle of the night with no signs of a break and enter and Dean had been all over it, throwing their stuff in the car and heading out not half an hour later.

They kept conversations brief, generally just talking about the case and any mundane things they could come up with. Dean was still angry, and that translated into uncomfortable silences. Though, he'd been trying to make an effort the last two days, Sam would just shut down, and the silence would continue.

"Well, here we are at another small unknown town in the middle of nowhere and nonexistent." Dean muttered, eyes already scanning for a motel in which they could stop for the night.

"Yeah." Sam answered quietly, not knowing what else to say. They'd both been up nearly 18 hours and could use a good sleep, if only to get away from the awkward silences.

Dean said nothing, making a left and pulling them into a motel parking lot and shutting the engine off. "I'll get us a room." He muttered under his breath, and shot out of his seat and out the door as if the seat had been an electric chair.

Sam let his head rest against the back of the seat. Another long day and things had still not been settled between them. Great.

Sam woke with a kink in his neck and rubbed it tenderly, rolling slowly onto his back as he did so. He blindly reached for his watch that he'd taken off and left on the bedside table. Blinking a few times to get rid of the blurry vision, he pulled the watch in front of his face and checked the time and then dropped it beside him. 11:24 A.M.

Glancing around the room, he noted that Dean had taken off. A note was left on the table, and as Sam got up and went over to inspect it, he already knew what it would say. Gone for breakfast. Be back later – Dean.

Sighing, Sam rummaged through his bag and grabbed clean clothes, making his way into the bathroom and closing the door. He relaxed as he stood under the scalding water, allowing the vestiges of sleep to wash away.

A slam of the door signalled his brother's return, and Sam reluctantly shut off the water and dried himself off, slipping on clean clothes before opening the bathroom door and moving towards his duffel bag, ignoring his brother for the moment.

Pulling the chair back, he sat down, his brother watching him subtly even as he pushed a grease stained bag towards him.

"Thanks." Sam greeted, pulling out Styrofoam containers and was surprised to see pancakes, eggs, and sausages inside.

"So it turns out the last victim, Edward Carlyle, wasn't the last. His sister Sarah disappeared last night." Sam looked up between bites of egg and pancakes, indicating for Dean to continue.

"Yeah, the ever cheerful… and bustyAngie was certainly helpful in spreading the town's gossip. Heh." Dean's voice tapered off, and Sam swallowed a mouthful of food before joining in the conversation.

"Get her number then?"

Dean's smirk answered that question. Back to the task at hand…

"But all the other victims, they had no relations. And whatever this is, it's never been after a family before, or taking people from the same house."

"No, so I figured we'd go check the place out, check in on the family and see what we can dig up." Dean answered, drumming his calloused fingers against the tabletop.

Sam nodded, taking a forkful of food and shoving it into his mouth and wondering when it became so awkward and difficult to talk to his brother about things outside of a case. Oh yeah, I remember. He thought bitterly. He had no one else to blame but himself.

"Well, that went well." Dean bit out sarcastically, throwing his coat on his bed and yanking off his tie.

"Well what do you expect? They said their kids haven't been acting any differently, hadn't noticed their kids hanging out with anyone strange. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, well if anyone would know about acting differently or hiding things, you would know." The comment wasn't said without heat, and Sam couldn't help but wince.

"Well then what do you want to do about this one? Stake out? See if this thing comes back?" When hurt, divert.

"Yeah, we can check the place out tonight, see if Mr. Fugly comes out to play, whoever it is." Dean answered his tone neutral.

"Dean…." Sam pleaded.

"Not now, Sam. We'll deal with it later, okay?" Dean answered without even turning around, his back to Sam while he dug around in his duffle.

Sam sighed, feeling dejected, slumping down in his chair and turning the computer on. Might as well try and find some information on the area to see if he could narrow down what they were looking for.

They parked at the curb, idling at the edge of the spacious lawn, sitting there keeping an eye on the house.

Dean put the canister away after having a long gulp of coffee, the drink bringing him back to full awareness. He noted that Sam was still slumped in his seat, eyes never leaving the Carlyle's house as he doggedly averted his eyes from Dean. Dean understood why. They'd both been stressed the last few weeks, and with Sam's ability revelation, it had put a definite strain on their communication. He was still angry with Sam for lying, but he did admit, he hadn't been so accommodating for his younger sibling. He was justified in his anger, but he could see the negative effect it had on Sam, and knew they would eventually have to talk about it – again. But for now, that conversation would have to be put off until after the hunt was over.

"Hey." Sam's voice startled him out of his thoughts and he looked towards the area Sam was pointing at. A dark figure was just disappearing behind the back of the house. Without speaking, both boys jumped out of the car, and ran for the trunk. Dean grabbed a handgun and his favorite shotgun, while Sam reached for his Taurus. A gut feeling was tugging at Sam's consciousness and Sam also grabbed Ruby's knife, hastily strapping it to his ankle before covering it with his pant leg.

Dean said nothing, merely motioning his head in the direction the figure had disappeared to. Sam nodded and followed his brother towards the back of the house.

The back door had been kicked in, the gentle breeze causing the door to bounce against the wall. That didn't distract them from seeing the blood pooling from the dead man in the middle of the kitchen.

"Damnit." Dean hissed, before kneeling down towards the man and checking for a pulse. A quick shake of his head confirmed what Sam already had concluded. The man had blood running down his sides, an apparent stab wound in his abdomen the cause of his death.

"Sweep the upstairs. I'll take the main floor." Sam nodded, his Taurus ready in his hands and moved to the stairway, silently making his way up to the second floor, while Dean moved on to the study, disappearing into the dark room.

Sam skilfully checked the rooms upstairs. Two bedrooms and a quick check of the bathroom and he'd come up empty – save for the last room at the end of the hallway.

He pushed the door open and cringed when the door creaked open. He had only set one foot into the room and knew – it was the wrong move. It felt like someone had wrapped a rope around his midsection and heaved. Sam cried out as his back slammed into the far wall, the gun slipping from his grasp through numb fingers. He could hear a ringing in his ears from the impact, and the noise was drowning out anything else at the present time and he tried to shake his head to clear it.

Dean moved swiftly through the study, and moved onto the living room. It didn't take long to see Mrs. Carlyle lying in the corner of the room, her neck at an odd angle. Broken. Dean thought to himself, and scanned the rest of the area with a keen eye. So what had come in and killed the parents?

A loud thud from upstairs had Dean racing for the stairs, all thoughts of being stealthy flew out the window. "Sam!"

The shadows by the bay window moved, and Sam watched as a young woman stepped into the moonlight, her black eyes piercing him to the spot. Sam recognized her immediately from the pictures downstairs - It was the missing teen, Sarah. She sneered at him, twisting the woman's features darkly, contrasting what was a beautiful woman otherwise, with shoulder width rich brown hair, and a snug t-shirt that accentuated her curvy figure.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Whatever am I going to do with you? You know, you've cause quite a ruckus the last few months. You've been very naughty." She cooed, swaying her hips as she sauntered over, running her tongue over her lips as if looking at her next meal. Sam merely grunted at her, and turned his head away.

"Oh don't be like that Sam." She purred as she reached a hand out to cup his face. "I think we could have a lot of fun tonight. Just the two of us." She whispered the last sentence, griping Sam's chin with strong, delicate fingers. Sam pulled his face away.

"Sorry. I don't want to hang around for long. I've got other plans." He growled, and her face glowered at him. Both turned their heads when they heard Dean yelling from the stairs, worry evident from his tone.

"Why don't we invite Dean upstairs Sam? I'm sure he'd like to see what trouble you've gotten yourself into." She moved back into the shadows and before Sam could even shout a warning to his brother, an invisible force had frozen his vocal cords, rendering him silent. If only he could get himself free, he might be able to stop her.

Dean was approaching the top of the stairs, gun griped tightly in his hands, keeping it trained in front of him, all the while trying to keep his footsteps sure and quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, a chill working its way down his spine. Something was off, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"Sam?" He hesitantly called out. He hovered near the far wall, inching his way to the closest room just a few feet in front of him. He hedged a look into the room, and saw Sam pinned to the wall a few inches from the floor, trying to communicate through frozen vocal cords of the danger just behind the door. They had been set up.

Dean steadied his gun and pushed the door wide open, keeping his gun raised and aimed at a figure by the window.

"Hello Dean." Dean narrowed his eyes at the petite woman as she stepped out of the shadows. Her eyes flashed black, and Dean steadied the gun in his hands.

"Sam, what have I told you about buckets-of-crazy gals? You need some normal girls if you're going to get laid." Dean threw at his brother, who huffed a response that sounded suspiciously like "ass-wipe". Dean had what he would call 'holy' bullets in his gun; A little invention of his own. It wouldn't kill a demon, but it would certainly slow it down.

The woman moved toward him slowly, her steps sure and smooth along the beige carpet, moonlight glinting off the knife she held in her hands, grinning wickedly. Dean didn't hesitate – he pulled the trigger, and heard the 'bang' of the bullet inside the chamber, and felt the recoil of the gun in his hands. Funny thing about demons – they tend to learn new tricks. The girl stopped mid-step, and Dean's eyes widened as he saw the bullet hovering in midair just a foot from her face.

"I'll have to add it to my collectibles." She murmured as the bullet dropped into her hand, just before she telekinetically threw Dean into the wall to her right, his body denting the wall, before he was being dragged up the wall to be pinned there a few inches off the ground. The gun dropped to the floor, and the demon grinned, picking it up with delicate fingers while Dean groaned from the impact.

"Nice gun." She murmured before she tossed it into the far corner of the room. Dean looked across the room at Sam, who looked back at him with intense eyes, and something that Dean couldn't quite place. His attention shifted to the demon as she moved swiftly to his side, brandishing the knife in front of his face.

"Dean Winchester. You made it back up top. Lucky little brother over there has a few tricks up his sleeves." She looked up into his narrowing green eyes and smiled. "It's not quite the same when I don't hear your bloody screams in the morning. It's like having a cup of coffee to start the day. It invigorates you." She inhaled deeply, letting out a long breath. "Don't worry sweetie, I'll make sure this trip you'll stay there. I have to leave the other boys and girls down there with some form of entertainment." She cooed as she brought the tip of the knife to just below his collarbone.

What sounded like a deep growl caused her to turn her head back in the other direction. "Don't be greedy Sam. I'll come play with you after I'm done with big brother." She kept her eyes on Sam as she slowly dragged the knife across Dean's chest. His breath hitched and he hissed in pain. All the while she smirked at Sam, her eyes flashing from brown to liquid black like a flick of a switch. Sam's nostrils flared, and the skin over his knuckles whitened and his veins started to bulge from the pressure. His skin pricking, dancing with adrenaline and burned with anger.

"You watched your brother die once Sam. Wouldn't you like to see it again in high def?" She chuckled darkly, as she pushed the blade harder against Dean's chest, watching in fascination as blood bubbled and spilled over the edge of the blade. Dean cried out, calling her a multitude of names, some of which could be made out as 'bitch' and 'black-eyed hag' as he squirmed and tried to get away, but the pressure holding him against the wall wouldn't relent. The demon grinned, licking the blood off the side of the blade.

"Mmm… you taste good Dean; like chocolate." She merely grinned as Dean glared at her with hooded eyes.

"I hope you choke on it, sweetheart." Dean spit out between clenched teeth. The cut wasn't too deep, but having your skin split open was never a nice warm fuzzy feeling.

She smiled, running her fingers along the cut on his chest, blood coating her fingers.

Neither one seemed to notice how the air was suddenly heaver, like the humidity had just increased…

"There's been a fair bit of Winchester blood spilt, hasn't there Sam?" She asked over her shoulder, turning her hand over to examine the blood by moonlight, watching as it glistened on her fingers. Sam didn't respond, glaring at her while grinding his teeth. Only his harsh breathing could be heard in the suddenly quiet room.

The girl giggled, and stuck the bloody fingers in her mouth, savouring the copper taste as it ran across her tongue. Dean grunted in disgust, and turned his head away, staring towards the open door, not six feet away. He needed to get them out of here. What he needed, was a distraction.

He jumped, or would have jumped if not pinned to the wall, when the girl touched his face, fingers tracing his jaw line.

"Did you know Sam was quite the troublemaker while you were cooking in hell? Caused a bit of an uproar for us demons." She hissed in Sam's direction. He only glared at her in return.

"Supposed to lead us, or at least, that's what Azazel planned. But, he got himself burned by a bullet. Lilith stepped in," And both boys could hear the awe in her voice, "and took care of everything. Was doing what Azazel planned in the first place – get the demons to start a war, go topside and do what we do best – cause pain, death and destruction." Her smile disappeared into a scowl. "But she couldn't kill him." She jerked her head in Sam's direction. "I wonder what'll happen when she finds out I killed you both? Nice and slow. It'll be just like old times, Dean." She smiled darkly, her eyes a deep black pool.

"Leave my brother out of this." Both Dean and the girl twisted around to see Sam, who locked eyes with Dean for a second, before pinning the demon with his own glare.

"Sorry Sam. You have to learn how to share. Wouldn't want you to have all the fun now."

"Right. Lilith wants to surround herself with demon bitches like yourself who can't take on hunters on her own without outside help." Sam smirked, watching the demon snarl with anger. The girl flicked her hand, and Sam's head whipped to the side.

"Sam!" Dean called out, watching pain flash across Sam's face, blood droplets hitting the beige carpet silently.

Sam felt his face burn, feeling blood trickle down from the three gashes on his face. His chin rested against chest, tremors wracking his frame.

"Just for that Sam, you get to watch your brother die first. I'll fillet his skin and make a skirt with it." She spit out, anger boiling in her black soulless eyes, as she turned on her heel, knife raised in her right hand.

Great. Get taken out by a demon she-bitch. I guess I'm going 2 for 2 now. He choked on a laugh. That really wasn't funny. It wasn't the first time either. Another thought crossed his mind. I don't want Sam to watch this. Dean stared at the young girl, not shying away from the blow that would cleave his heart in two, blood spurting out as she ripped the knife from his chest, or the blood coating pale lips… only the knife never came down. There was a crackle in the air, like static electricity. The hairs on Dean's arms and the back of his neck stood on end, cold sweat sliding down his spine.

The demon had an odd look on her face, as if trying to work out a difficult puzzle. Her stance almost comical as the knife was poised just above her head, traces of blood on the knife, glittering against the moonlight streaming from the large bay window. That look changed to one of shock, and if Dean wasn't mistaken – fear. She turned her head to the side, bringing the knife down and holding it close to her thigh and Dean followed her gaze to the one other occupant of the room.

Sam was still pinned to the wall, his head bowed and Dean could not ascertain what was causing the demon before him to tremble. He was about to call for Sam, when he distinguished a 'crack' that sounded like ripping up floorboards. In truth, the wall behind Sam began to split, spider-web cracks destroying the pale green walls, the crown moulding near the top splitting and falling with a dull 'thunk' on the floor. The demon took a step back, eyes tracing the cracks as they moved towards the ceiling, the fan shaking in the center of the room, threatening to fall and shatter on the floor in a shower of glass and wires.

Then, it suddenly stopped.

Dean could feel the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, his senses being triggered by fear, and by confusion. What the hell is going on?

"Impossible." The demon whispered, fear making the word tremble between her lips, and both demon and hunter watched, waiting as the figure on the opposite wall stirred.

"Sam?" He waited, holding his breath as Sam slowly lifted his head up.

Sam had his eyes still closed, head rolling on his shoulders as if stretching in preparation for a long workout.

"Sam?" Dean called out hesitantly, and watched as Sam went still again. Sam's eyes snapped open, and Dean was sure his jaw dropped at the same time. Sam's eyes weren't their natural hazel color – and mind you, Dean had seen Sam's eyes change various colors during his lifetime. Pending on Sam's mood, his eyes changed color to match. Dean had seem then burn dark green when he was bitchy or moody, light green when he was happy, and a light brown when he was concentrating or engrossed in research, or trying to work though complicated patterns or systems. Dean knew those eyes. The eyes staring back at him he didn't recognize and if he was being honest with himself, he would say they weren't even a natural color, and fear was making chills race up and down his back.

Sam's eyes burned a deep gold, the whites of his eyes almost non-existent. Dean wasn't sure if Sam even had any pupils from this distance. Sam blinked and the gold receded to his irises, his eyes narrowed and intense. Dean felt a chill race down his back and is stomach twisted in knots, and it didn't help his nerves when Sam gazed at the demon, his lips curved into a feral grin.

Sam stared at the demon across the room much like a lion stares at its prey; Calculating, assessing for weakness, powerful, and with an edge so few could relate to. Sam was now the predator in this room, and the demon had just been demoted to 'prey'.

Sam's eyes blazed dangerously, narrowing at the shaking demon in front of him. He slid from the wall, his feet touching the floor without a sound. With a wicked grin, he pinned the demon with an icy stare.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

A/N: I know, I'm evil (laughs) Guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out what's going on with Sam - and where this leaves Dean. Let me know what you think.