Hello readers! :D ok, so this is a sequel to my other story And so it is. You don't have to read that to understand this story but it would help :) Enjoy!

Warnings: Mature content! Torture, violence, blood, language. HurthurthurtSam :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Dean slowly opens his eyes and looks through the blood running down his face. He is smashed against the passenger door of the Impala in the front seat and his wrist hurts like hell.

"Sammy?" He yells, trying to turn his stiff neck to look behind him. But his eyes fall on his father who is lying back against the driver's seat. He also has blood running down the side of his face, but other than that he looks uninjured.

"Dad! Dad, wake up!" Dean yells, in desperation.

John jolts awake, "What?"

"Dad, you ok?" Dean asks, turning fully to look behind him. "Shit!"

"What?" John repeats, falling his son's eyes to the backseat, after shaking his head in attempt to clear it. "Is Sam ok?"

"He's gone! Shit! Sam!" Dean exclaims, pushing himself up to look on the floor of the backseat, but Sam is not there. "Fuck!"

"Dean, stop yelling and watch your language!" John says, holding his head and trying to stay calm.

"Did you hear me?!" Dean yells. "Sam. Is. Gone!"

"Maybe he went to get help, Dean. Just calm down," John reassures, placing his large hand on Dean's shoulder in attempt to calm him, but it is immediately shrugged off.

"He wouldn't do that," Dean states. "Not without waking me up first."

"Maybe he tried, son."

Sighing in frustration, Dean shoves the Impala's door open, careful not to use his sprained wrist. He slides out and glances around quickly at his surroundings. This is bad. Really, really bad. If Sam's gone, he could be hurt. Or worse. Especially with everything that has happened recently, Sam shouldn't be alone.

"Sam!" Dean yells, scanning his the woods around him, hoping that Sam will pop out somewhere.

"Dean!"

"What!" Dean turns to face his father, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I said calm down. I'm calling Bobby to come help with the car and then we will find Sam," John calmly states. "Maybe you should sit down, Dean." John notices that Dean is wavering on his feet, most likely a result of the currently bleeding head wound.

"This is bad. This is really bad. Sam can't be alone right now. We don't know what he will do." Dean slowly sinks to the ground and puts his head in his hands.

John stares at his son. There is no words of comfort that will help. Nothing will be better until Dean has Sam next to him.

"What the hell happened, Dad?" Dean asked, looking up at his father.

"Something jumped out in front of the car and I swerved to miss it," John responds, with a sympathetic look on his face.

John looked around his and for the first time, noticed the extent of the damage. The scene was brightly illuminated by the light from the morning sun. The Impala was crushed and even from the inside, John could tell it had been reduced to nothing,but a metal heap. The front was wrapped around a tree that was down a hill and far enough from the road that no other drivers had noticed the wreck.

John grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, trying to open the door. As he expected the door did not budge. He pushed on it, pulled on it, tried everything he could, but it was useless. The driver side of the car was too damaged.

"Damn it!" He yelled as his head began to spin, his body protesting the extra movement. Giving in, he slid over to the passenger door and stood up, out of the car.

Walking to stand in front of Dean, "Are you ok?" he asked, taking Dean's face in his hands and examining his son's head wound.

Dean shooed away his father. "I'm fine," he stated.

"Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean had tears brimming in his eyes and John instantly knew it was because of his worry for Sam.

"I promise you, we will find him. We will find Sam."

A/N Please review!