the B R O T H E R S trilogy // a SUPERNATURAL fanfiction

UP;; Chapter Four

Mon, 29 May 2006 03:26:35 GMT

Chapter Three
Sam's walls break down in front of Sarah and someone familiar is spotted in the streets of another town.

Words: 3804
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Took me awhile, blah blah, has more description because of writing camp, blah blah, and a hello to Ashley (if she reads this) whom I met at Bruno writing camp! *waves* Onto the story!

PART ONE

Chapter Four;;

Night had come quicker then Sam had anticipated. The Ohio state line was miles away now and Sam felt a little better knowing he and Sarah were inching further away from her father. And, hopefully, closer to Dean.

The trip was long and quiet after Sam had explained everything and Sarah had asked her probing questions. The road maybe curved once or twice, but Sam couldn’t be sure anymore. All he saw now was dewy green, black pavement and the sharp lines of yellow on the road ahead. It was becoming monotonous.

Metallica or AC/DC or some other unknown band to Sam was playing softly in the background; Sam didn’t mind it now and Sarah never complained against the screaming voices now lowered to a low mumble. The words were almost another comfort to Sam; he tapped his fingers against the wheel along with the music, remembering how much it had bothered him before when Dean had done it.

There was a noise to Sam’s right and he looked over instinctively. Sarah had already settled back deeply in her seat, her bare feet resting in the twilight on the dashboard and her head leaning on the door, the wind occasionally catching her hair. Her left arm was thrown across the seat, her fingers coming dangerously close to Sam’s leg. He was tempted to reach out and entwine his fingers in hers, but it was only an almost.

Sam sighed, looking back to the road. It was always an almost. Would he be angry at himself forever, because he couldn’t let go? Jess would’ve wanted it... besides, it had been too long that Sam was alone. Dean was getting annoyed.

Sam rubbed his face - he had been driving too long now. His eyes stung, yawns came more frequently and he was thinking again. Thinking was a bad thing, especially when nothing good can come from it. Especially now, in Sam’s current condition of mind.

The pale moon was shining brighter now and Sam had no other choice but to stop. He didn’t want to sleep in the Impala again (it had turned out horribly for the most part when he first tried) but right now he was in the middle of Indiana with no plan, no towns in sight and barely any money.

Sarah snored quietly and Sam turned sharply onto an approach, his mind made up.

Once the car was parked, Sam sat for awhile, staring out the window absently. Before long, his mind was wandering again, and no matter what he could think of - Dean, Jess, Dad, every demon or ghost, even the tearful Mrs Cornen, his third grade art teacher who always loved Sam’s perception of his mother and family in class art pictures - it always came back to the same thing: How did I get here?

Sam would look back on the chronological snapshots that told him physically, through movements and actions, how he had come to this abandoned, tree surrounded meadow, with the beautiful stranger sitting beside him and his brother only God know’s where. But how come he had sunk so low? How come he had given in, letting Dean drag him that one weekend that everything in his life came crashing down around him, to Jericho. Dean, Dad, coordinates, lies, guns, mysteries, fake police badges - things he had tried to forget now formed his life.

His life could’ve been perfect. He had everything expertly planned: his education, Jessica, kids... he was even planning to set up a bank account for his retirement. He left out of anger and spite against what he never wanted; he came back the same way, for the same reason, but with a little extra push from Dean.

But why was he being forced to do something he never wanted? Why couldn’t Dean just have left well enough alone; Sam didn’t really care where Dad went. He had been missing before, he shouldn’t have been so worried. But he went anyway and when he came back, his life had fallen apart so rapidly, he had no time to think about it. Now, it came back to him in currents of agony and numbing revelations. But whichever way he looked at - every angle, every side - it came back to the chronological order and just his damn luck with his family.

Sam groaned, leaning his head on the steering wheel. Dean was right... he couldn’t run away from what he was or who he was going to be. No matter how hard he tried, he already had a life plan laid out for him - Dean’s plan and Dad’s plan was Sam’s plan. It just worked that way.

"Are you planning to take advantage of me out here?" whispered a tired, sweet voice which broke Sam from his little pity party.

Sam looked over, his head still resting on the steering wheel , to see Sarah waking and smiled. "My intentions are more honorable then you think." Sam looked back out the window. "More honorable then Dean’s," he blurted out before he could think.

Sarah let a small grimacing smile play on her lips, a trace of knowing sympathy in her eyes, and turned back to face the window. She lowered her feet and stretched. "Where are we?"

"I don’t know really. Somewhere in Indiana," Sam replied, his eyes fixed on a firefly dancing across the Impala’s hood.

The door squeaked open, but Sam didn’t move.

"That helps," Sarah commented sarcastically before slamming the door and walking around to the front of the car. There, she hopped up onto the hood, causing the car to sway and Sam to lean away from the steering wheel. She leaned back on her hands, shaking out her soft brown locks so they cascaded down her slender back. "It’s nice out Sam."

Sam opened the door, walking out slowly. The breeze of the cool night air stung his face and hands, but he kept walking like nothing bothered him at all. Nothing he ever felt, nothing he ever knew, nothing he ever saw before bothered him in the Indiana night. He slid onto the hood of the car; Sarah’s presence made him feel at ease and uncomfortable and lost inside all at once.

"Want to play twenty questions?" Sarah asked after a moment and Sam nodded, just hoping it would fill the silence until he fell asleep.

Sarah smiled warmly. She brought her legs close to her and rested her chin on her knees. For a moment, Sam had a burning feeling of jealousy since her life was so simple and easy to move, but then he remembered it wasn’t now thanks to him.

"Alright, first question. I’ll make it easy. Favorite book?"

- - -

Twenty Questions soon turned into just questions. The childish game had opened up both Sam and Sarah to let things out in a hurry and never to criticize or mock the others answers, no matter how absurd or profound. They spoke in turn, the night settling in comfortably around them.

Somewhere in their soul searching endeavor, Sam had retrieved bags of chips and candies from the trunk. Sam never ate, just stared at the bag in hand, while Sarah spoke between mouthfuls of Gummy Bears and Oreo’s.

"Your turn Sam."

The fireflies had multiplied and added with the moon’s shine; the two on the hood of a run down Impala had a faint glow light... just enough to see past their hands. The meadow was lightly lit and you could make out the darkened silhouette of trees and shrubs; they stood innocently, beckoning Sam and Sarah to join them in a condoned silence. Somewhere in the distance sat a house sat alone and foreboding, as though Sam could feel it’s haunting presence. Clouds circled the ghostly moon overhead, making the night more hideous and unbecoming then it really was.

Sam thought the night was night was turning out to be more beautiful then expected.

The bag of ketchup chips crinkled in Sam’s hands and he sighed. "What did you secretly want to be when you were little?"

Sarah considered this for a moment, breaking a cookie in half and putting one half in her mouth. She chewed slowly and deliberately, taking her time. "For a bit, I wanted to be Superman."

"Seriously?" Sam chuckled, the bag crinkling once again. It was sharp and demanding in the still night air. Sam set the bag aside, finding the noise less comforting and gave way to the silence.

Sarah frowned, hitting Sam’s shoulder. "Yes! And don’t laugh, I was young. My parents didn’t find it necessary to tell a confused four year old that she couldn’t be Superman." Sarah took a handful of Gummy Bears and shoved them in her mouth; Sam noticed her mouth was stained blue and green from the candy. "After that, I really wanted to become a ballerina."

"Doesn’t every girl?" Sam inquired; he could feel his walls melting around him as he lightened up and laughed. This girl is magical, Sam thought, taking in Sarah’s shadowed profile. Almost like Jess.

"I suppose, but my passion didn’t fade. I really wanted to be a ballerina." Sarah sighed. "I still have my shoes in my room back home."

Sam shifted on the hood of the car, relaxing his shoulders into the cool steel. "What happened?"

"My dad pulled me out," Sarah replied sharply, taking a generous amount of salt and vinegar chips and putting them roughly into her mouth. Her eating intensified and Sam looked to his feet, not really knowing where to look. He had long ago kicked off his shoes, along with his socks. His toes were turning a dangerous shade of blue, but he didn’t want to bend down to get them. Was it too much effort for all the packed on pounds or was it he was afraid to look over the edge?

It was like when he was little, petrified on his tiny bed as big brother Dean bravely checked under his bed. John insisted it and Dean followed through - the fear had moved with Sam through all the years. Morning would come, just like when he was younger, and then he could check. Then he would retrieve his shoes... if something else hadn’t.

"Alright, your turn," Sam asked, looking away from his numb toes.

Sarah swallowed and looked to the sky. "What do you want most out of life? Not just something like a good job or a wife or kids... but something truly meaningful."

"Meaningful?" Sam thought about it for a moment. What did he truly want in life? Well, of course for this to be over, but who wouldn’t? He wanted everything back to normal, but being the realistic one of the family, Sam never saw that coming back into play. So what was it that he wanted?

"I don’t want to be afraid anymore," Sam answered quietly. The air had suddenly cooled and Sam could see his breath move in tufts of white clouds above his head. The sky was silent and so were Sam and Sarah; somewhere in the distance a vehicle soared by on the highway and a lonely grasshopper sang to the dark.

"I don’t want to be scared of my dreams; the one’s I see at night and the one’s I see during the day. I don’t want to have to fall into place anymore and be controlled by the fear to move and shoot and fight." Sam rubbed his face, trying to rid his mind of the urge to cry. "I don’t want to have precautions and hesitate to live, because could and most likely will carry huge consequences. I don’t want to have to doubt anything and not be able to move down an alleyway without thinking something supernatural could be following me. I don’t want to wake up in the morning and think this could be the last time I breath. This could be the last time I look in the mirror. The last time I see..." Sam hesitated, feeling the fear of pain and loss brought on by the fact that was already there.

The darkened house on the hill watched Sam, a halo of moonlight cascading around it’s boxed frame. Sam felt apprehensive under the gaze of the blanketed sky; it was him to go further then he ever had. "It could be the last time I see Dean, either if I die or he does."

Sarah nodded, her hands folded across her lap. She wasn’t eating anymore, she wasn’t moving anymore; Sam wondered if she was even breathing.

"I don’t want to have to live in fear because it controls me. I want to be able to sleep and not be afraid. To wake and not be afraid. To laugh and know it might have a chance to come back. I want to dream of something better, a place to leave, to forget it all. But I can’t, cause fear always brings me back."

Neither moved for minutes; it was a time that needed no words or any signals of life. They were content with staring into an endless abyss of velvet blue skies and brilliant stars that twinkled with anticipation and promises. If everlasting stars could make it through the dense clouds. So could Sam. So could Sarah.

So can Dean.

Sam knew he would have never told those things to Dean if he had the chance - it didn’t work that way. But somehow, he wished Dean could hear his words.

Then, maybe Dean would understand.

- - -

The next morning, the events of the night before were only passed of as but a dream to the tense and tired couple. They packed up, Sam located his shoes and before they backed out of the meadow, leaving behind conversations of innocence and bags of ketchup chips and discarded Oreo’s, Sam sought out the watchful house on the hill. This morning, it smile in the sunshine, the house an inviting, warm beige colored masterpiece. Sam had pulled out, feeling less intimated.

They drove in silence, Sam’s eyes never leaving the road ahead and Sarah’s eyes never leaving Sam’s profile. She was worried, Sam could tell, but Sam didn’t want to deal with it. He just wanted to forget he let down his crumbling walls - it wasn’t supposed to be. No one was supposed to know.

Not long after they pulled onto the highway and were leaving the night behind, a town appeared on the horizon. First, it seemed a trick of the early morning light; Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes and looked again. But sure enough, it was there, looming closer.

"You’re kidding, right?" Sam muttered, mainly to himself. He didn’t expect a response from Sarah and he didn’t get one.

The Impala slowed as the speed limit sign lowered and they trudged into town. In the early morning, a few people were walking around; opening up stores or jogging before work. Sam only then realized it was very early and he rubbed his eyes out of tiredness. Sleep had once again evaded Sam; he had sat up all night, eyes wide open, the quiet breathing of Sarah behind him, hand resting on his cell phone. He didn’t expect another call from his Dad or the demon, but maybe Dean had escaped and he wouldn’t have to go through with this.

But it was just a false hope anyway.

Sam stopped the car in a small parking lot, filled with beer bottles and gravel. Still shocked and unwilling to believe, Sam stayed in the car as Sarah slowly climbed out, sighing. Sam followed after her, acerbity rising in the back of his throat.

"Oh man!" Sam cried, stomping his foot in the ground. "A town with hotels and food, only five minutes away!" Sam already felt horrible for making Sarah sleep in the car; they were both tense and uncomfortable even sitting in the car after that sleep. Or, sleep for Sarah.

"Showers too," Sarah added, taking in the eerily silent town.

Sam groaned, leaning against the car. "Don’t remind me. Please."

Sarah laughed sympathetically, leaning over the car to pat Sam’s shoulder. "It’s alright Sam. I’ll forgive you if you go to the store, buy some food and I can find a place to shower."

Sam nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Alright. I’ll do that."

"I see a tourist information center over there," Sarah said, pointing to a plain wooding building. "I’ll go check it out and you get some food, okay?"

Sam nodded, sliding into the car while Sarah ran across the empty road and disappeared into the building. Sam sat in the car for awhile, staring out into the rising sun. He wasn’t letting himself think or know or plan anymore; everything would come in stride. He would let his feet lead and then his brain would follow.

Thinking and knowing only led to consequences and hurt, Sam had realized.

Sam started the Impala, feeling it shake and roar to life. Then, an odd feeling overcame him - a presence was near, a strong one... Sam could feel it staring at him. A shiver ran through him as he turned his head, looking over his shoulder carefully, wishing he had a gun or at least some rock salt with him.

But what he saw gave him a slight shock. A wisp of dark brown hair and leather pants turned the corner; Sam blinked, confused. Something about that person - that girl - was familiar, but Sam couldn’t pinpoint it. Had she been watching him? Was that the presence he had felt?

The woman was now facing her slender body in his direction. Her eyes wandered across the deserted town, her head raised to the sky as though searching and she then stopped looking, catching sight of the Impala; open bait in the empty parking lot. She stared, confused for a second and head titled, at Sam. Sam felt a gasp catch in his throat - he had seen those dark, malicious eyes before. She grinned, licked her lips and then disappeared down the street, leaving Sam anxious and dubious.

There was a rapping on the side window and Sam jumped, his heart racing.

"Sam?" It was Sarah, standing at Sam’s window, her fingers in a loose fist positioned close to the window. She had a slightly concerned look on her face and a pamphlet in her hand, portraying the wonders of the open Indiana road. "Are you going to let me in?"

Sam nodded, forgetting he had locked the doors. He leaned over and manually unlocked the passenger side, only to catch sight of the brunette appearing back at the corner Sam had first spotted her. He gulped deeply, staring intently at her, watching for any sign of odd movement. She stood, looking down the street for a moment, before disappearing again.

Sam let out a relieved sigh.

Sarah slipped into the seat beside him, the car rocking as she slammed the door shut. She looked oddly at the stunned Sam before asking, "Did you get to the store?"

"No," Sam answered slowly, his eyes still stuck on the empty street.

Sarah snorted in discontent, settling herself into the seat and folding her fingers in a manner of dissatisfaction. She slowly looked to Sam, her eyebrows raised. "Why didn’t you go to the store then?"

Sam shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He then realized Sarah was actually upset with him. "Because... I think I saw someone I know."

"So you sat in the car, staring at them?" Sarah accused and Sam frowned at her.

"No, I was watching. Because this person is not a person... really," Sam explained, trailing off lamely. If he was positive with his assumptions and guesses, then he was in a great deal of trouble. He hadn’t realized how difficult and strenuous this was already becoming for him. And this addition made it so much worse.

"Then what is this person?" Sarah demanded, her voice raising childishly.

"A vampire," Sam whispered, leaning into the steering wheel. His mind flashed a memory like a movie in his head, only snippets and previews; the shattered truck window, Dean appearing from nowhere, Sam not being able to breath... Dad and the gun. And then, before that moment in time, there was everything before - Dad coming from nowhere, the vampires and their filthy hovel that stunk of stale beer and alcohol and sex... almost like Dean after a long night out.

But it wasn’t all those vivid images and memories that made Sam quiver, no; it was the fact that the revenge filled Kate had been lusting after the Winchester’s blood ever since John had killed her love, Luthor - that one and only that one, adorned in leather boots and clothing that would send only perverted sexual thoughts to Dean’s mind, was in Indiana, far from Colorado. In the town he and Sarah were in. In Sam’s sight.

Sam knew this was not a coincidence - especially not from the look she had given the Impala, the overwhelming pleasure in her eyes when she was probably imagining herself ripping out the heart of a Winchester, sucking his body dry.

Sarah shrieked, her hands rushing to cover her mouth. "A vampire? You’ve got to be kidding me!"

"Anything’s possible," Sam replied groggily, his own mind not willing to believe itself. How had Kate made it this far? Sam wasn’t anywhere near Manning in the last few days and - Sam’s head shot up in quick realization, his forehead almost coming into contact with the steering wheel.

"Sam?" Sarah asked skeptically. "What’s wrong?"

"We’re following her," Sam blurted, fumbling with the keys to the Impala. He shoved them in the ignition and felt the car rumble to life.

"Wait, we’re following the vampire? Isn’t that like suicide or something?" Sarah demanded over the blaring beats of Black Sabbath as Sam ripped out of the parking lot and down the main street of another nameless town. He knew Kate would be far gone by now, he had waited to long - he hadn’t even considered it until then.

"It could be," Sam said, tearing out of the town, thoughts of food and hygiene momentarily leaving him as a rush of excitement, fear and hope came over him like a flock of wild birds. "But she knows where Dean is."

- - -

There you go! Took me long enough, eh?

UP;; Chapter Three

Wed, 10 May 2006 23:36:02 GMT

Ooh! That was v. v. v. quick. I was pressured though *evilgareSABRINA* Anyway, on to the chapter!

Chapter Three
Sam makes an unexpected stop and picks up an old friend, Sarah Blake.

Word Count: 3060
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I was excited about this chapter and spent many hours (actually one at home and one during French and half an hour during Home Ec.) editing this. Sabrina said I made her year, but I've been saving the chapter until it was in the final draft. Also, the town name where Sam picks up Sarah... it's just a random picking.

PART ONE

Chapter Three;;

Sam idled the car slowly down the empty streets of the tiny town of Waterville, Ohio. It seemed like an odd place to have an extravagant art auction, but Sam was just glad for the unlikely coincidence.

The Impala groaned and, as Sam tapped the breaks, he felt for some reason, it was because the owner was not there to comfort it.

It wasn’t hard to find the place of Blake Auctions: all the signs in town that were actually legible pointed to the end of town. It seemed that the town’s folk were very proud of their new found art culture. Sam could already see the line up of cars parked down the street leading to a hidden building.

Sam looked towards the largest sign, the one advertising the auction, and saw that the building was paved in a light beige stucco, with the offset of bright blue shudders to keep the eye attracted. Balconies stuck out from all over, all evenly spaced a few feet apart, a set of glass patio doors leading into the building. Sam felt like he would be walking into a mouth with many white, lace eyes.

Sam stopped the car suddenly, causing it to jerk forward and sending Sam with it. Cursing under his breath as he rubbed his forehead, Sam put the car into park and stepped out, trying to seem calm. Looking around nervously, Sam rushed into the building, ducking his head into his chest.

It was an odd, exhilarating feeling that Sam would sometimes catch as he entered a building, holding a fake badge, wearing a fake name, being a fake person. It was almost like playing pretend... Sam could be a police officer one day, turn around the next day and say he was a doctor and needed access to medical files. It was fun for Sam - a temporary high before the bloody showdown - when Dean was there playing along. But now, Sam felt like he would mess up, forget and let something slip. Dean always kept him on his feet, because as everyone knew, Sam cracked under pressure.

As soon as he had snuck in, Sam kept running into people unintentionally. He’d make hasty apologies to stuck up wealthy seniors and then making his way once again through the maze.

This bothered Sam, for the fear that he would come off as nervous and afraid. He would then be caught and sent to jail for impersonating numerous government workers. They would discover all the badges, all the guns, all the knifes, and he would have to go to trail and explain everything without giving anything away, which he would anyway. Then, he would be faced knowing Dean wouldn’t make out of the demon’s grasp alive and he would only have the picture of the laughing Dean and the agonizing guilt that would eat him up inside before a large man named Sugar Pops turned him into his little boy toy.

Sam, along with cracking under pressure, also overreacted alot.

"Can I help you?" asked a sweet voice from behind Sam.

Sam spun around, a large grin on his face thinking he had found Sarah Blake so quickly and so easily, but he was faced with a middle-aged woman carrying a tray of caviar. Sam’s smile faded as he shook his head and the woman smiled sympathetically, almost knowing Sam’s reason for dejection and walked away.

For awhile, Sam just wandered around the exhibits, becoming detached from everything else. It wasn’t like anyone payed any attention to him otherwise.

- - -

"Aren’t you Mr Connors from the art show in New York?"

Sam, holding a ivory vase in his hands, spun around and just about dropped the antique upon seeing Daniel Blake giving him an odd, pressuring look. Sam hastily set the vase back down, wiping his hands on his pants. Sarah’s father, a prominent art dealer that they had met while wearing fake badges and coming off as horrible art buyers since they had really no clue about art, never really liked him and Dean, Sam could tell and it wasn’t any better that he was halfway across the country from where he was last seen.

Mr Blake continued to stare unblinkingly at Sam, willing him to mess up. "Uh... yeah, I am. Nice to see you again sir." Sam stuck out his hand, but Mr Blake gave it a disdainful look before looking back, scrutinizing Sam, almost trying to pick him apart with his eyes. It made Sam very uncomfortable.

Mr Blake looked behind Sam, still looking suspicious of Sam’s being. "Where’s your..."

"Brother? On vacation sir. Needed some time alone." Sam winked and laughed, but it slowly died away as Mr Blake frowned. Sam cleared his throat, feeling more nervous with each passing second.

"What are you doing here?" the man demanded - Sam knew he wasn’t up for a quick laugh.

Sam was slightly surprised at the question. "I... I saw the sign on my way through and I thought would stop and say hello to Sarah." Sam knew he was fighting a losing war as Mr Blake grew more furious at the mention of his daughter. "I was on my to another show actually when I saw the sign," Sam lied quickly, but it didn’t work on the man.

"Did you follow me across the country just to say hi to my daughter?" Mr Blake inquired hotly.

Sam blinked. "No. I am an art trader sir, I do move."

Mr Blake grumbled something, pulling at his suit. "Right. Well, Sarah is not here."

Sam nodded and turned on his heel to walk away when Mr Blake stopped him, "Nor is she anywhere near here."

"What?" Sam blurted out, fully shocked. If Sarah isn’t here... then where? Where Do I go from here?

Mr Blake’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he spat out, "You heard me."

Sam nodded quickly, stepping back. "Right. Okay... uh, bye then." If Sam was sure about one thing in life it was that girl’s father intimidated him, but none could compare to the wrath of Mr Blake.

- - -

Sam stood beside the Impala, his mind humming with thoughts, contradictions and theories at a thousand miles per minute. He was positive Sarah would’ve been there... or moreover, Sam was wishing she would be there. Though she had very little experience on what he did, Sam couldn’t keep his head straight half the time and having a sane person walking around, guiding him back on track... she could almost replace Dean for awhile.

Running his hands over the sleek onyx of the scorching car, Sam felt a surge of wanting. He tried to promise himself not to think of Dean too much... it only brought him to depression and days of just thinking and wondering and planning and guilt trips galore.

Sam pushed himself onto the hood of the car, feeling the hot sun burn through his pants. He shifted uncomfortably as the black gave off torrents of heat. Sam then noticed a faded sign on the stucco wall beside the farthest wall... Twenty dollars for a room? Sam was becoming confused.

Their was a rustle from a balcony above and Sam’s head shot up to see a fluttering of lace drapes behind the blue shutters. Sam stared for a moment before opening his cell and dialing a number he had memorized long ago.

Two rings later and there was an answer.

"Hello?" The voice was soft and familiar - Sam smiled broadly, his eyes still on the balcony.

"Sarah?" Sam asked hurriedly. He averted his eyes from the balcony for a moment and looked down to his shoes. He picked cautiously at the torn rubber and scratched some dirt from the surface. I need new shoes. He remembered that Jess had bought him the shoes - Sam couldn’t forget her mischievous smile as she laid the box on the table, making Sam look up from his homework.

"What’s this?" he had asked, but she only giggled and waved him on. He brought them out, admiring them slowly. Nike. They were expensive and Sam knew they had been short on money. "What’s the occasion?"

"None," Jess declared, swooping down for a kiss. "Just a little ‘I love you’ gesture."

A ball formed in Sam’s throat at the thought of Jess and he knew he was nearing mental and emotional breakdown, considering all of the things that had come flying at him in the past few days.

The voice of Sarah, now sounding skeptical and bit worried, brought him back from his revere. "Yes?"

Sam sighed. "Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester, remember? From - "

Their was a slight squeal of delight from the other side and Sam moved the phone a few inches from his ear. "Sam! Is it really you? I thought you were never going to call - "

Sam’s mind blanked for the next few minutes as Sarah rambled on about waiting for his phone call and some other things he didn’t catch. He usually listened to a girl when she spoke (considering he was Mr Sensitive and all), but he didn’t want to lose track of the purpose of the phone call. Anyway, he knew Sarah would just ramble on about him calling... he’d heard it before, except it was Dean on the receiving end.

Sam heard a deep breath, finally, from the ear piece and he dived in before she could start again. "Yeah, I’ve been busy. I would’ve called earlier."

Sam could almost see the knowing smile. "I understand completely. So, Sam... what’s with the sudden phone call? If not earlier or later, why now?"

From above, Sam caught a glimpse of the lace curtains flying outwards, getting caught in a single breeze. A pair of bare feet and a short, white summer dress that curled around the legs glided onto the balcony. Curves of soft brown hair floated down the shoulders of Sarah Blake as she leaned onto the rail and grinned like a crushing school girl.

Sam felt a glimpse of wonder and satisfaction before he sneaked further into the shadows, smiling beside himself. He let out a quick chuckle and caught Sarah frowning.

"What’s so funny?" Sarah demanded.

"It’s nothing," Sam answered as nonchalantly as possible. "I was wondering about something though..."

"Shoot," Sarah replied. Sam felt a bit off, hearing both Sarah’s voice distorted on the phone and the real thing only a few feet above. It was like he was stuck in a warp zone and considering what he had been through in the last year or so, he could see it being plausible.

Sam clicked his phone shut and walked out to see Sarah staring down indignantly at her phone. He looked up, smiling broadly. "How would you like to take a road trip?" he called up.

Sarah shrieked and Sam just about missed catching her phone which had come plummeting to the ground.

- - -

It only took Sarah a few minutes to pack, throw her things over the balcony’s edge and rush downstairs to jump into the Impala. She was flushed and breathing deeply, grinning from ear to ear. She said she left her father a note, saying she had seen an old friend (Sam knew that Mr Blake would instantly think it was him) and she didn’t know when she would be back. Most of her stuff, she had said, was still in the hotel room.

Sam revved the Impala’s engine; dirt sprayed out from behind the tires as they took off down the road. Sarah let out a glorious laugh as a group of stiff’s recoiled at the makeshift ammo and Sam laughed along too.

It wasn’t until they were far from the town and inching closer to safety from Sarah’s father that Sam started to explain his sudden appearance at her hotel room halfway from where he was supposed to be.

Sarah listened patiently, nodding at the right moments and never really looking frightened. Sam felt a little proud of her for being so brave, or maybe she just thought he was nuts and when she had the chance, she would admit him into the hospital. Overreacting, cried a sing-song voice in Sam’s head. He knew that couldn’t be normal and it didn’t make it much better the voice sounded oddly like Dean. Then again, Dean had said it before.

Sarah didn’t say anything for awhile after Sam was done explaining. Sam became restless, hoping she would say something cause he had nothing more to say. He didn’t want to let his mind wander and his over active imagination create unplausible scenarios that seemed highly true to him.

"Have you thought of calling the police?" she asked finally. She was staring out the window, the passing greenery catching her weary eye. She had rolled down the window, letting the wind catch her hair and blow it past her. Sam thought she looked too perfect in the shining green and he couldn’t help let his eyes wander down to her bare, tanned legs.

Sam could almost hear Dean laugh approvingly.

"For what?" Sam asked, bewildered by the question.

Sarah thought for a moment, turning to face Sam. "Well... if Dean phoned, then they could trace the call and - "

Sam shook his head, cutting Sarah off. "No, we don’t get the authorities involved. It will only lead to questions, since Dean is technically dead - " Sarah’s eyebrows raised questioningly, but Sam waved it off, " - it’s a long story. Anyway, questions lead to investigations, which leads to freaky Area 51 shit and that’s what Dean and I tried to avoid most. Do you really think the police would help us if I told them my brother, who is dead by account of St. Louis Police Department, was kidnaped by a demon?"

"Good point," Sarah said, turning back to the window. "Alright... any patterns?"

It was Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

"I did some studying," Sarah admitted, smiling at him over her shoulder. "It’s fairly interesting." Sarah caught the look on Sam’s disgruntled face and quickly added, "Until you start doing it."

"Exactly." Sam sighed. "No patterns that I know of. I haven’t had much time for... planning." Sam subconsciously picked at the steering wheel.

"Thinking," Sarah whispered. It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement. Sam was glad he didn’t need to explain it to Sarah. He wasn’t sure he could.

"Yeah, thinking. I have books in the back and a laptop... it’s the most I have for now. And any self intuition you feel, go for it," Sam explained, trying to make it sound more thrilling and dangerous rather then a scavenger hunt.

"You said the demon talked to you?" Sarah asked, looking skeptical.

Sam nodded, his eyes now on the road ahead. It seemed to have rained there, since the sky overhead was a dark gray and everything else glistened green and brown - a beautiful contrast, good and bad. It was peaceful and comforting... Sam could almost say he was just driving away from it all, Sarah by his side in a white summer dress and it was all just normal. He was just another twenty-something college boy with no worries, no fears, no regrets and he was running away from his work with a girl he loved into a never ending sun.

But the truth of the matter was that Dean was missing, something big was happening and Sam and Sarah had given themselves the task to defeat whatever was coming. Whatever rainbow that had laid ahead, waiting, had now been bashed into the ground.

"At least I think it was a demon. I was surprised, since only people possessed by demons can talk... that I know of." Sam smiled sheepishly. "I’m still kind of new to this."

"Are you sure it was a possession then? The thing that took Dean?"

Sam shrugged. "To me, it definitely looked like a demon, though I could only see the eyes and the silhouette. But what do I know? I was on the floor most of the time. The thing on the phone could’ve been someone else or maybe whoever took Dean was a demonic possession. It happened all too quickly for me to register anything." He looked to Sarah who nodded, though she still looked a bit worried and unsure about it all.

"It’s a bit to grasp, I know, but I just needed someone to keep my head straight," Sam explained. Sarah shot him a glance and he added hastily, "And I wanted to see you again too. I was planning on it, but you know..."

"No need to explain Sam," Sarah said, her face somber. She looked back out the window before adding, "At least you came."

Sam nodded, not entirely sure of what that meant, but accepted it all the same. There was time for to catch up and learn about each other... Shoot first, ask later.

Sarah had stuck her hand out the window, letting it flop on the edge. "So, what are we doing now?"

"I need to pick up something," Sam answered quietly, gripping the steering wheel. A empty house flashed in his mind, things strewn across the floor and an empty gun case on the floor, surrounded by salt and blood.

"What?" Sarah asked, looking to him quizzically.

"A special book." Sam grinned knowingly to himself.

"Oh, I get it." Sarah grinned slyly, knowing a little about what he meant. "Okay, where is it then?"

Sam looked at Sarah for a moment, speeding up the Impala so it reached close to one-hundred-and-forty miles per hour. The car roared in protest, but kept going. "Manning, Colorado."

Sarah’s jaw fell slack as the car’s tires picked up leftover water and dirt on the road, rushing in the direction of Colorado.

- - -

Whoo! Okay, yay. Done. I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever done this. Thanks to Sabrina who really motivated me to work on this! LUB YOU ALWAYS!

UP;; Chapter Two

Wed, 03 May 2006 03:27:49 GMT

Do you like the new banner and icons?! ^_____________^ I made them MYSELF! Yeah, I know! Pretty freakin' amazing eh? Took me close to two hours, but I love it muchly. I can't stop staring at it... *drools* EDIT o5.28.06: Okay, I so did not make this awesome layout. Link on side. Made the banner and icon though.

Chapter Two
Sam is left alone to deal with his oncoming emotional and mental breakdown when he recieves a phonecall.

Word Count: 1266! [I found a counter!]
Rating: PG-13 [language]
Author's Notes: This chapter is a 'meeehhh' chapter because I have the rest of the story planned after this chapter. It was just a filler and the phonecall, which is actually kind of important. Alright, never mind then.

PART ONE

Chapter Two;;

Sam woke bitter and tired. The events of the night before still clear in his mind, Sam laid in his bed, cursing his damned father in his head. After the bout of anger and hate had subsided, Sam knew he had to move on. He couldn’t stay in the bed forever, but it seemed nothing else would be better.

Just as anything, ambition flew high and suddenly came crashing to the ground. The hope faded in Sam’s head, and now reality set in. His body’s fuel of anger and fear was running low and soon he was going to slow right down and take a good look at what was around him. He knew he would see that this was close to impossible without Dean and he would give up.

But Sam didn’t want to give up. He wanted to find Dean, because life without Dean... well, it just wouldn’t be the same, no matter how much Sam didn’t want to admit it.

Sam cleaned out the Impala, slowly taking each cup, crushing it in his hands and throwing it into the garbage bag he had stolen from his room. He imagined each cup being his fear, regret, worry, anxiety (a process he had learned from self-help book he had read during a particularly long drive across the country), all those ‘bad’ feelings that would get him nowhere.

And then, each cup turned into his father. Sam crushed faster and harder, tearing the crumbling styrofoam into a million pieces. It made him feel better for a moment and the hate would die away and then Sam needed to tear faster, before the words or tears came.

Slowly, the cups turned to Dean - god, how many cups did he have? He was sure he had consumed an entire small country of caffeine in the last few days - and he couldn’t throw them away anymore. He would stare at the cups, wishing them to actually dissolve into Dean, but wishing was a waste of breath.

Sam came to the conclusion that the healing process sucked and he shouldn’t drink anymore coffee. But he knew that was a lie.

- - -

The Impala rolled across the length of road which never seemed to cease. Straight, one corner or two and then straight again. The land was vast, bare and flat... Sam had to blink twice to make sure he was moving anywhere.

Sam didn’t know how much further he could go before he went insane. No towns crept up along the horizon anymore... not even a farm house or a gas station. Sam was sure this was absolutely impossible or maybe he wasn’t going fast enough down the highway. Maybe he was just driving in circles... it is possible when your mind is crammed full of past demons and haunting’s, trying to figure out what stole your brother.

Sam could feel the fuel running low inside him later in the week. For motivation, he stuck the picture of the laughing Dean on the dashboard, where it flapped in the wind hitting the dashboard annoyingly every few seconds. He could almost hear Dean speak to him through the picture and he definitely knew he was going insane.

Finding it useless to keep driving, Sam pulled into an approach as the sun began to set. He needed to sleep... the loss of coffee was wearing down on him quickly. He turned off the ignition and crawled into the backseat, settling himself down comfortably, though his legs curled up underneath him from the lack of room.

Just as Sam was drifting back into the restless sleep he truly desired, his cell phone rang from somewhere in the distance. He blinked, shaking his head and the sound came in clearer the second time around.

Sam scrambled over the seat, digging through his jacket pocket and grabbed his cell phone as the fifth ring sounded. He flipped open the top and almost dropped the phone when he read the name on the screen:

DEAN WINCHESTER

It couldn’t be.

Sam was sure it was a trick of the light or lack of sleep or something. It had to be something, because Sam was sure Dean wouldn’t be able to phone him so quickly. Or maybe he escaped? He could’ve.

Maybe someone had found the phone and was randomly calling everyone on Dean’s contact list? Sam found that fallible, considering that most people who find cell phones didn’t call people the owner obviously knew. But Sam didn’t want to wear down the hope that maybe Dean was okay.

Sam pressed the neon talk button and brought the phone to his ear, breathing out a shaky "Hello?"

For a moment there was no sound and Sam began to worry. And then there was a muffled crash, something ripping and Dean’s frantic voice.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!" Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Dude, where are you? Are you okay?"

"Dammit Sam, please! You’ve got to help me!" Sam thought he heard Dean sob, but he couldn’t be sure with all the background noise. "I’m scared, man, scared shitless. I don’t know what this... this thing is going to do to me!"

"Dean, man, I’m coming. I swear to God, I am!" Sam cried reassuringly, the phone fumbling in his sweaty hand. "Where are you Dean, do you know?"

Dean ignored Sam’s question. "Sammy, you’ve got to come. Right now. This thing, it’s the worst I’ve seen yet. I need you Sam!"

Sam stopped for a moment, staring out the window. It had started to rain. What a coincidence, Sam thought wearily. Sam watched a rain drop trail down the window in an intricate pattern before disappearing.

There was a yelp and a muffled sound from the phone, bringing Sam back to his senses. "Dean? Dean, are you there?"

"SAMMY!" It was barely audible from the sharp laugh that pierced Sam’s ear.

"A fighter, isn’t he?" said a raspy voice, one Sam had never heard but knew who it belonged to. Then the phone clicked off and nothing but silence and pattering rain accompanied Sam. Sam knew instantly that this just wasn’t any demon he was dealing with and quickly, sleep evaded him and he had to find Dean. His drive was back once again.

As Sam drove down the sleek road, his tears mingled with the rain from the open window, for all he could hear was Dean’s once again desperate cry.

Sam picked up the now rain stained picture of Dean and held it in his fingers, whispering, "I promise Dean, I promise, I will find you."

- - -

It wasn’t the sign of the town that drew Sam in nor was it the fact that he wanted to sleep in a real bed. It wasn’t that he finally got to see real people and he knew he wasn’t going to go insane. It wasn’t that he finally was going into hyper mode from no caffeine.

It was the makeshift sign right outside of town - Sam could tell it had been haphazardly set up, probably in a hurry.

ANTIQUES AND ART AUCTION.

It wasn’t the first line, or the fact that it said BEVERAGES AND SNACKS TO BE SERVED (Sam was running out of money).

The reason Sam pressed on the gas, making the Impala roar in protest was the fact that underneath, in a smaller print, the sign read:

BLAKE FAMILY AUCTIONS.

UP;; Chapter One

Tue, 18 Apr 2006 06:25:32 GMT

Chapter One
Sam is alone and tries to figure out a plan of action.

Word Count: 2152
Rating: PG-13 - language. Naughty, naughty Sam.
Warning: Yeah, for this, Sam is in Michigan. I live in Canada. I have to effing clue about the US and it's billions of states [okay, that's exaggeration]. I basically just searched up Michigan state right now and edited my story so that Sam could actually move into another state. And that's the last time I mention what state he's in. For now. Gods.

PART ONE

Chapter One;;

Sam had been driving for days. His head ached, his fingers tensed on the steering wheel of his brothers Impala, and he could still feel the tears that threatened to appear pounding at the back of his eyes.

He was only running on a few hours of sleep - he knew he needed more, but every time he fell asleep he was plagued with having to watch Dean fall over that window ledge repeatedly. Sam couldn’t face one more minute of that, so he kept driving, buying coffee in every available place he could.

Sam picked up his plain white plastic cup and tried to drink down the remaining bits of caffeine, but there was none left. Growling, he threw the cup in the backseat with the rest of his other coffee cups. He knew Dean would scold him as soon as he saw it; always being a stickler for neatness and having an intimate affair with his car, Sam would get his head ripped off at the mess in the car. But right now, he didn’t care.

Sam sighed, rubbing his face. Dean.

He had tried to piece the past weeks together - the newspaper article, the trip down to Michigan, finding the demon, hunting the demon and then... Dean was gone. Sam didn’t know how the demon moved or if it had patterns. He didn’t even know how it was destroyed since the salt bullets went right through it.

Sam tried to think of some kind of folk lore or legend that could help him, but nothing came to mind. That was Dean’s job. Sam was there for extra help and to find Dad.

Now I have to find both Dad and Dean.

Sam was nearing the Michigan border - only a few more miles - but he didn’t want to leave. He searched all of Michigan, asked probably every human being alive in a hundred mile radius of where Dean disappeared if they had seen him (he found a picture of Dean in the backseat of the Impala and had to cut out the two girls in bikinis, hanging onto his older brothers arms), but he just vanished.

Sam knew the demon would have taken him out of Michigan and far, far away. Sam knew for sure that the demon would not rest in one place, but hopped from town to town; state to state. Maybe even, country to country.

Both Winchester brothers had stepped up to the plate - as usual - to defeat the unknown. But this time, they really had no clue what they were getting into. For weeks, in the vastness and trees of Michigan, looking for some damned demon that had no killing instinct and was just wandering around aimlessly. But Dean was sure something was up.

Why would a demon wander around and not want anything out of it? Dean had asked Sam and Sam was, for lack of a better word, stumped. Why would a demon wander? Demons weren’t like humans - of course - and didn’t just walk around for the hell of it. But what was odd to the Winchester brothers was that the demon followed no pattern at all and that intrigued Dean.

Sam had begrudgingly agreed with Dean, but thought that it would be best if they moved on their way. Everyday, some new phenomena would arise in some other part of the country and Sam wanted to move on. They chased that demon in circles and hadn’t seen it once. Sam was positive they were on a wild goose chase, Dean was positive the demon had to do something with the death of their mom and Jess.

That’s what convinced Sam to stay - this demon could be what made their father leave them, what made their mom and Sam’s girlfriend, Jess, die so suddenly and brutally. That was the only reason Sam stayed for any of it. To find solace and revenge against the thing that ruined his life.

He knew it was useless, but Sam fought all these battles to try to make life normal again. Though he was too young to even know his mother and didn’t have the same hatred and ambition as Dean and his dad did, there was still a small gap in his life growing up without a mother. Then it took Jess - the only one Sam was sure he’d ever truly love on this earth - and Sam then could feel the obsession that his once ignored family had. His dad was gone and anger and grief were building up in him, waiting to explode. The idea of jumping in his brother’s Impala and riding to nowhere seemed like the only escape.

But Sam’s life would never be the same. He just thought it would. But how could it be when his father was gone again, his brother was missing and Sam would never find solace for the death’s he experienced even if he did kill the demon?

Life would never be the same, Sam just hoped it would.

- - -

Now, Sam never liked sleeping in motels. He liked the comfort of sleeping in a soft bed with fifteen pillows, but in motels he would have to fork over all pillows - except one - to Dean, who complained of his bad back. He blamed it on old age. Sam couldn’t protest because, no matter what, Dean was the leader of their little expedition.

Sam found a Motel 6 along the highway he was currently driving. He yawned and knew it was a good idea to stay the night, because fatigue was quickly closing in on Sam.

After crossing the borders of Michigan into Ohio, Sam started questioning people he saw once again. No one had seen him and Sam expected to different. It wasn’t very likely the demon would just have Dean prancing around in some other state.

As soon as Sam checked into the hotel room and put his bag (and Dean’s) on the table, he sat down and waited in the empty room. He didn’t move for hours, just stared at the floor, his fingers intertwined with each other.

Sam hadn’t had time to just sit and think; his first reaction was to search. And that’s what he did. He hadn’t had a good sleep in a somewhat comfortable bed, since he had been napping in the Impala to save money and time. But now, he was planning. He was thinking. Trying to figure out what this demon was.

Slowly, Sam laid down on the bed and looked at the ceiling, focusing on a large water stain. His mind was blank. This was Dean’s job, figuring out the big picture. Eventually, Sam pieced it all together after Dean found out most of it. Sam blamed his mind being useless because he wasn’t skilled in it.

College boy can’t even figure out a simple mystery.

Sam could remember the day Dean had said that. They had been sitting on a park bench in only God knows where. Sam was drinking a coffee and Dean had a bag of Skittles and was popping them like pills into his mouth. It was right after they had come back from fighting yet another demonic poltergeist or something like that and Dean was enjoying his favorite past time - bugging Sam.

Sam smiled now at the memory, glad for Dean’s sense of humor. Sam treasured the memories he had with Dean because - though it was difficult for Sam to think about - he may never see his brother again.

Sam knew it was possible and he had to think of all the consequences. He had to be ready for something like that.

- - -

It was early in the morning once Sam finally got off the bed and rummaged through Dean’s bag to find the small notebook that they always found so useful. Slowly, he turned to the front page. There he saw his dad’s now familiar handwriting scrawled on the front page. Sam was determined to read through everything as to find a clue to what took Dean. There was something - there had to be - that would give Sam some thought or idea to the demon.

Or was it even a demon? Sam wasn’t sure.

Sam began flipping through the pages, scanning meagerly. No mention of demons, no mention of anything like it. Sam was sure he and Dean - or his father for that matter - hadn't come across a kidnaping demon until now.

Sam stopped. His father.

Quickly, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He clicked through the contacts until he finally found John Winchester’s number and dialed it. Sam tapped his fingers on the wooden desk impatiently waiting for his father’s voice to come on.

"Hello?" said a deep voice from the other end.

"Hey, Dad?" Sam asked. He stopped drumming his fingers and stared down at his father’s messy scrawl.

"Dean? Is that you?" The voice sounded eager and almost excited. Sam didn’t notice, as a large ball had formed in his throat from the mention of Dean’s name.

"No Dad, it’s me. Sam."

"Oh."

Sam blinked. Oh? Was that a disappointed oh or a comprehending oh? Sam felt his stomach lurch forward in a roll, but he had to keep going, no matter how much his father wished he was Dean.

"Um, Dad. We have a problem," Sam said quietly. Quit a problem, actually.

"A problem?" Sam could almost see his father’s head furrow in thought. "What kind of problem?"

"Dean..." Sam choked down the large lump and kept going. "Dean’s missing Dad. Someone... or something, for that matter, kidnaped him."

John Winchester was quiet for a moment, contemplating the situation. "Or course something kidnaped him. What was it?"

"If I knew, I wouldn’t be phoning you!" Sam declared, almost irritated, but he bit his tongue.

"You don’t know?" Sam could tell his father was now upset. He regreted instantly on the idea of phoning his father for help. "Why the hell didn’t you phone me before! Jesus Christ Sam, what were you thinking?"

Sam winced at the sound of his father’s stern voice, scared even over the phone. "I don’t know. I was scared and worried and I just drove Dad. I had no idea what I was looking for. Then I finally stopped and... well, now I’m here."

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" John asked hotly.

Sam was slightly befuddled by this question - what do I expect him to do? What kind of question was that? Sam was sure John would drop all his belongings and come running to the Michigan border to assist his youngest son in the recovery of his favorite son.

"I expect you to help me. Or at least give me some clues," Sam answered meekly.

John sighed. "I can’t help you. I’m on the tail of the demon, Sam. I’ve almost got it."

"I don’t get it," Sam said. He had focused on the beige wall of the room... well, it really wasn’t beige. Barely the slightest hint of brown. It was an ugly puce and Sam felt ready to vomit when he looked at it. Or maybe it was just all the stress he felt at that moment.

"I’ve almost got it!" Sam noted his father now sounded excited. "I’m right on it’s tail... so close, Sam, so close I can almost feel it."

Sam stared at the puce wall and watched it mingle with the horrible abstract paintings hung on loose nails until it just became a jumble of colors. He couldn’t believe his father... he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could his father ever act this way?

"Dad, would you rather have a dead Dean or a dead demon?" Sam asked darkly.

"Sam."

"Listen Dad," Sam almost shouted. "I’m only is this fucking deal because of Jess. But I will drop everything to go after Dean, because there’s a chance he’s still alive. Mom and Jess are not coming back and I know that."

"I know your mother and Jess aren’t coming back, but I want revenge. I want to kill it. I want this nightmare to be over."

I’m living the fucking nightmare.

"Can’t you see Sam? It’s almost over. We can be done, then I will help."

Sam closed his eyes for a long second and then opened them again, seeing in a new light. "I can see where your priorities lie Dad and just hope to fucking hell you can at least make it to Dean’s funeral when he ends up dead." Sam slammed the phone shut, cutting off any response his Dad could have. He waited with bated breath for the phone to ring in his hands, but it never did.

"Good one Dad," Sam said to no one in particular.

- - -

Chapter One, officially! TBT is underway!

EDIT:: Okay, Livejournal, you're a BITCH. Garh. STOP MAKING EVERYTHING ITALICIZED OR I WILL THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW!!! skjahfghjagfsjhf.

UP;; Prologue

Sun, 16 Apr 2006 03:53:25 GMT

Prologue
The beginning of The Brothers Trilogy - how it all went down.

Word Count: 890.
Rating: PG [ermm... so far?]
Warning: I tried to make this sad, but yeah, I may not have got there just yet. Don't mind spelling mistakes [or canon mistakes for that matter!]

EDITED:: Because I used "fear" too many times.

PART ONE - UNHEARD PROMISES

Prologue;;

"Come on Sam!"

Sam Winchester looked up feverishly to see his brother, Dean, swinging an axe at the air. Sam tried haphazardly to load his rifle, knowing that the demon he and Dean had been chasing for weeks would show soon, but he knew it wasn’t going to do. He never did well under pressure and at this moment, he was definitely under pressure.

Dean glared at his brother, a hint of fear in his eyes. "SAM!"

"I’m trying, I’m trying!" Sam cried back, tears building in his eyes. He blinked them back and kept trying to load the gun. "It isn’t working!"

"God Sam, how hard could it be - " Dean was stopped short as he was thrown back, the axe falling to the floor and almost hitting Sam.

Dean hit the opposite wall with a loud thud, causing the unstable wooden shelves to shake. Around Dean, picture frames and glass ornaments fell, crashing into a million little pieces. He shook his head feebly and then it lolled to the side lamely.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, almost dropping the gun in his worried haste.

"Sam! The gun!" Dean snapped, his voice sounding groggy and low, pushing himself to a sitting position. He stayed seated for a moment and Sam was hopeful, but Dean was once again picked up from the safety of solid ground and thrown around the room like a rag doll.

Sam picked up the rifle, ready to shoot, only to find he had dropped the bullets. Cursing under his breath, Sam flew down to his knees and began searching among the dust and grime.

Dean screamed something from across the room, but Sam kept looking. Dean could handle it himself, couldn’t he? He had done it before. Being the younger brother, Sam looked to Dean for the lead ands support in a hunt. Sam didn’t like being the older brother for a change, the one to save another. He was terrified of this ... thing.

"Hold on Dean!" Sam’s voice cracked - he was breaking under the pressure. God, he felt like a teenager again.

"I can’t!" Dean yelled, trying to grab onto a wall before he was once again thrown to the other side of the room.

Kneeling so close to the floor he breathed up dust, Sam tried to find the bullets. He cried out in frustration - they were definitely large enough to not be able to lose them. How could Sam not see them? How come everything seemed to get lost or not work when Sam needed it most?

"SAM!"

Sam’s head shot up. Dean was hanging in mid-air, a dark arm wrapped around his neck. Sam could see the glowing red eyes, but nothing else - a typical demon, but then again... not so much.

Dean kicked his legs and tried to grab onto the arm to rip it away, but it proved useless. He looked at his brother and for the first time showed his panic. He had always felt it - the anxiety, the fear, the never knowing what was around that next corner, but being the older brother, felt he had to protect his Sam and act like the person he was born to be - a savior, a fighter, a defender. But now, he needed Sam to save him. He needed it badly.

Grabbing a hold of something cool and solid, Sam shoved it into the rifle that lay beside him. "Move!" he yelled before firing off the first bullet.

Dean’s head ducked out of the way as the bullet came whizzing past his ear and right through the demon.

"It didn’t work!" Sam said, stating the obvious. He grappled for another bullet along the floor.

"Keep trying!" Dean called out. "Dammit, keep trying!"

It’s not going to work, Sam thought as he hurried to find another bullet. His brother’s screams for help didn’t help the stress Sam felt at that moment. Everything was blurring in Sam’s sight and all the things on the floor felt the same - bumpy, sharp, bumpy, sharp. It never ended.

"Sammy!"

Instinctively, Sam’s head turned to the mention of his seldom used nickname. He knew not to scold Dean anymore on the use of it; his brother wouldn’t stop. Dean would say it in such a tone that annoyed Sam to the brink of a psychotic breakdown and Dean loved it. Sam tried countless times to get Dean to stop, but his brother was stubborn and ‘didn’t like to break tradition’, as Dean had said many times.

But this time, when Dean called his name from the dark of the room, Sam knew he wasn’t joking around. His voice was strained and frightened - Sam had never seen Dean afraid before. It unnerved him.

"Dean!" Sam leaped forward, trying to grab Dean’s foot but it slipped between his fingers. "DEAN!"

"SAMMY!"

Sam looked up to see Dean being pulled through the open window and down to the streets below. Sam’s heart skipped a beat or two as he heard the yelp of his terrified brother.

Sam jumped up and flung himself to the window, almost falling over the edge. He searched - looking above him and below him, to the left and to the right - but nothing was there.

"Dean!"

Short first chapter. It’s just the prologue, it doesn’t have to be anything big. Hope you enjoyed. Did it almost make you cry, all the love and angst in the room? Haha, who am I kidding?

If I get good reviews on this, I’ll hurry up with the next installment of Unheard Promises.

PART ONE: UNHEARD PROMISES

Sat, 15 Apr 2006 04:04:13 GMT

;;UNHEARD PROMISES;;
After a grueling battle with a demon, Dean is kidnaped and Sam goes after him, his brotherly instinct kicking in. Gradually, Sam realizes he can't do it alone and calls on his new friend, Sarah Blake.

PART ONE OF THE BROTHERS TRILOGY COMING SOON!

Look out for the Prologue very soon

PROLOGUE NOW OPEN AND THE BROTHERS TRILOGY UNDERWAY! *jumps for joy and such*