Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the WB network. No profit is being made.

NOTE TO READERS: I had tried to keep from writing a story that would either have a sequel or turn into a story series, but due to requests for a sequel for "Uninvited" I have decided to write more on it. So, it may be one story more or many. I'll play it by ear, and see how it develops. Read and Review! Reviews are an excellent motivator for future stories. And, to everyone that takes the time to review, Thanks!

Side Note: The underlying story and title were inspired from the song, "Whisper" by Evanescence.


By Dawn Nyberg

Sam walked out of the hotel room and Dean looked up as he finished packing the car. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Sam answered as he tossed his duffel at his brother to put in the trunk. It had been their fifth hotel in a matter of weeks, and it seemed they were always on the move. Sam caught his brother looking at him longer than he needed to, "What?"


"What is it?"

"You've been sleeping more Sam, but you still look like a corpse. I mean have you looked in the mirror lately, man? You look like shit." Sam wanted to debate that fact with his brother, but he wasn't blind, and he knew what he looked like. He was pale, and had dark circles under his eyes. His dark hair and eyes didn't help either; they only made him look even more noticeably pale.

"Thanks, Dean. You really make me feel loved, ya know."

"Seriously, dude." Dean just looked at his younger brother with concern.

"What do you want me to say, Dean. Maybe I just need some sun. It's not like we have the healthiest lifestyle, ya know. Man, most of our work happens at night and we sleep during the day."

"Yeah," Dean conceded, but quickly added. "Well, I don't look like death warmed over. Hell, Sam, you didn't look this bad in the warehouse after that poltergeist hung you."

"Dean, let's just go. I'm fine." Sam couldn't help, but notice that his brother had finally mentioned the poltergeist event, although a fleeting mention. It hadn't escaped his attention that the last few weeks had been easy jobs, and he suspected Dean was making sure they weren't all that dangerous. Dean had kept him in that motel room for three days after he was hung telling him he needed rest. He got so stir crazy he actually had left one morning while Dean still slept, and when he came back with donuts and coffee for them both Dean had a panicked look in his eyes that quickly turned to anger. He remembered his brother had yelled, 'where the hell did you go?' He smiled at the memory.

Sam couldn't tell Dean what was really going on with him. Why worry him about something he can't change or stop? He hadn't been having nightmares, at least not in the sense he was used too. When he slept lately, since that night in the warehouse, the night Dean saved his life by pulling him back from death; his sleep had been plagued by a presence. When he closed his eyes at night allowing sleep to come and with it came a shadow, a feeling of dread that pulled him down, so far into sleep that sometimes he felt like he was being pulled under water, and couldn't breathe, but he wouldn't wake up. He was so deep in sleep that he couldn't even call out, to alert Dean he may need waking.

Voices and images would assault him all night long. He may not be waking from nightmares. But, his body and mind were being bled dry each night, and he knew that's why he looked the way he did. The voices said many things, random mutterings that made little sense to his conscious mind during the day, but plagued it just the same with the thought that they did matter. Sam looked out the passenger window of the Impala as he watched yet another town disappear in the side view mirror. Their next job was going to be a little more difficult. A family haunting, and it sounded a lot like a demon rather than a ghost or spirit problem. Sam heard Dean put on Pink Floyd, and knew he was in driving mode, so that meant at least an hour or two of inside his head time before his older brother would bother him to speak.

Sam stared at the scenery recalling the voices and images. He rolled the various words and phrases around: annihilate them, or they will you, cut them out, smite, and some phrases were garbled, and he could only ever make out the end, and one hung on him, something that always ended with the highest law. But, one voice that he heard clearly, and was the only one he didn't fear was that of Jess's. But, what she said did scare him; darkness is its own thing.And, last night her voice said something else that even now caused him to involuntarily shiver, the darkness wants you. Sam was pulled from his thoughts slightly when he noticed his brother turn on the car heater, and then return to his driving. He smiled internally realizing his big brother had seen him shiver, and assumed he was cold. He idly wished that it were that simple to warm the chill he felt growing inside him.

His mind turned away from memories of voices and messages, and toward the images. He saw: fire, and blood on a dagger, his Father and his eyes were sad, his brother's face raw with emotion and screaming at their Dad, but the words were always silent, and he wanted to know what Dean was screaming, but some part of himself was telling him once he knows he'll wish he didn't. He remembers seeing an altar with a black book, and a shadow near him, and a deep coldness sweeping through him. But, the last image he always sees is himself, eyes black and soulless filled with hate, filled with evil. And, it is this final image that always propels him forward from the invisible grasp that holds him down in this deep sleep, and he surfaces to a foggy reality that clears, and he knows he's awake. Each night more things surface, and others repeat. He hoped the preparations for this next hunt would keep his mind preoccupied at least for a short while.

Dean hazarded an occasional glance at Sam to see if he was sleeping, but the kid was always looking out the window deep in thought. He hadn't forgotten what he heard Sam say in the car while he slept after they left the warehouse. However, since he hadn't heard his little brother mumble it again since that night in sleep he had let it go, and stopped considering it as some harbinger of bad things to come. He was anxious for a real hunt, although he wanted to make sure he and Sam did not split up. He wasn't about to let his brother out of his sight if preventable. He had purposely picked easy jobs over the last few weeks to keep Sam safe, and he figured his brother had noticed, but never led on, he knew. Dean still had issues over what happened in the warehouse, and it still haunted him. He tried not to think on it too long because he hated the cold feeling that settled in his chest, the feeling of absolute loss, and the suffocating fear over losing Sammy. It had been too close that night, and he'd make damn sure that never happened again, ever.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" The younger Winchester turned to look at his brother.

"We've been driving for a while now, you hungry?"

"Nah, but if you are stop."

"No, I'm good. You sure?"

"Dean," Sam's voice dropped an octave or two to let his brother know that he was done talking about this subject. "When are we going to get there?"

"Anxious, much?"

"I just want to get this thing out of that family's house that's all. I mean they've been terrorized for months. They even moved out because the kids were so scared."

"Well, they'll be back in their house pretty soon, and their life can go back to normal as soon as the house is clean."

"You sure we couldn't use a priest on this one?" Sam asked with a lifted brow.

"Sammy, Sammy," Dean said with a chuckle. "We can exorcise the bastard ourselves. Why freak a priest out?"

"You got a point." Sam turned his head suddenly away as if jerking it in pain, and Dean noticed his little brother slam his eyes shut.

"Sam?" The eldest Winchester's voice was thick with concern. He watched Sam touch the side of his head, and his face grew tighter in pain. Dean pulled off the empty country road onto the shoulder, and threw the car into park and quickly turned his attention to his little brother. "Sammy? What's wrong?" He watched Sam open his eyes, they were glassy, and not focusing on any one thing, but they were searching. He watched his kid brother fumble for the door handle and climb out. "Sam! What are you doin', man? Sammy?" Dean watched his brother stumble out of the car and fall to his knees in the dirt and grass beside the road. Dean scrambled out of the car.

He crouched at his brother's side touching his kid brother's back. "Talk to me Sam, please," he begged.

"Stop!" Sam screamed. "Shut up, too many voices." Dean's eyes were sharply staring at his brother.

"Sam? Stop what? What voices?" Sam's eyes darted toward Dean his pupils wide, and he watched his brother's face dissolve away in a flash of white and then it came, unbidden, and consumed him, images flashed in fast succession and words filled his head. The voices were so loud they roared like an out of control fire. "Sam!" Dean screamed as his brother's eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched forward toward his brother falling into a boneless heap in his brother's arms. Fire, altars, words, chants, incantations, blood, and those dark soulless eyes, his eyes, flashed through his mind in a rapid-fire assault. Then he saw the house they were going to and the demon that awaited them. He felt its energy, a sick thickness that threatened to swallow him in its cold embrace. He saw Dean in danger. He saw sightless eyes, Dean's eyes, and Dean's death. Then he knew he could stop it, had to stop it, and his vision slowed and reversed. Sam's body began to seize in Dean's arms, horrifying the man. Sam fought the vision, and reclaimed fate. He saw Dean alive, eyes that weren't dead just afraid. Dean was alive, and Sam released away from the vision.

The seizure stopped, and Dean cradled his brother's limp body in his arms. Tears streaked his face, tears he hadn't even realized he had cried. Sam gasped and made a choking sound as his eyes snapped open. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was thick, and he met the confused eyes of his little brother.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a mere whisper, as he absently rubbed at his right temple.

"Christ, Sam," Dean exhaled a shaky breath. "You scared the shit out of me. I gotta get you to a hospital." He tried to get Sam up on his feet.

"No, hospital," Sam said his voice stronger.

"What! Are you nuts? You had a seizure or something, Sam. You're goin'."

"Vision," Sam offered.


"You heard me."

"But, you were awake, Sam," Dean's eyes studied his brother.

"No shit Sherlock," Sam said annoyed.

"Fuck," Dean's voice was angry. "You're tellin' me that you gotta deal with them awake now, too." Dean was furious these visions and nightmares were sucking his brother dry, and now they wanted to take every ounce they possibly could. Now, his kid brother was going to have deal with killer migraines, and possibly seizures on a regular basis. God, he hoped this wasn't the way they would all hit him. He hoped it was a fluke, but he knew deep down it wasn't, something was wrong, really wrong. And he was worried, but had to hide it from Sam as much as possible.

"Dean, what's happening to me?" Sam lifted his eyes toward his brother, and his older brother saw the fear there.

"We'll figure it out Sammy. It's gonna be okay. What did you see?"

"Not sure," Sam lied. "Just images." Dean looked at his brother doubtful, but wasn't going to push the subject right now. He could see Sammy was in a fragile place.

An Hour Later

Sam leaned against the passenger window letting the cool glass comfort his aching head. Dean glanced at Sam and shook his head slightly. "Sam, maybe we should…"

"No, Dean," Sam's voice was strong. "We're not putting off this hunt. I'll be okay."

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean's voice was unsure.

"We're doin' this, Dean." And, the oldest Winchester child knew the younger was not going to let this one go. The hunt would happen as planned. He returned his attention to the road ahead. Sam's mind however was a bevy of activity as he put the latter part of his vision together. He had been able to protect Dean; he had been able to reverse a vision as it took place, but it had cost him physically, and he figured that was what caused the seizure, but he didn't care, he would not let Dean die if it was in his power to prevent. The memory of his own black soulless eyes still caused him to have goose bumps, and he pushed that mental picture away for now.

The Rider Family House

The house stood on two acres of land with the nearest neighbors a half mile away on each side. From the outside the house appeared non-descript, it looked like a home, but once inside that's where normalcy ends. A two story brick turn of the century home. The Rider family had begun renovations to return it to its former glory, but they hadn't been in the house a solid month before things started happening. Lights flickered, growling and hissing would seem to come from the walls, the very house. And, one bedroom would occasionally emit a stench that smelled of death and rotting things, and flies would appear. It wasn't until one of their children had come home one night, and while undressing in the bathroom felt herself physically pushed and restrained against the wall by invisible hands. She had screamed as the hands began to push against her flesh. Her parents had broken down the door to get to her. When they reached her she had fresh bleeding scratches across her back and arms, and a bruising bite mark on her right shoulder. They left that night.

Dean and Sam had listened to the family recant their trauma, and said they would do every thing they could do get rid of the demon and the evil that hung over that house. The house had a history, but what old house didn't. Only one horrible incident had occurred over a hundred years ago, but it had been bad enough to draw evil to this house. Sam read over the history of the house. There had been accusations of black magic from the town people and they had come late one night to kill the family inside they called evil witches, devil spawn. The family had been brutally killed, and only one member lived long enough to crawl out of the house bloody, and dying. She had lived long enough to curse those involved. Sam read an old article that quoted her curse over heard by someone there that night: you've killed my family, and with my dying breath I embrace all you have accused us of. I give myself unto it, and curse you all, and every generations until your tree of life is dead and rotting. Let the dark father exterminate you all root and branch. And, she had died. And, those involved in the killings that night did experience tragedies and deaths over the years. And, Sam assumed the curse still hung over the house drawing in the evil.

Dean watched Sam as he read through the history and old articles about the house, and could see that his little brother's eyes were distant, as if something were on his mind. "What is it?"

"Huh?" Sam said glancing at his big brother. "Nothin.'"

"You sure?"


"We'll go in tomorrow at dusk, okay?" Dean said tossing some paperwork on the desk. "We've got all the information we need from the family. And, I doubt any more reading is going to help."

"Yeah, okay."

"Get some sleep Sammy." The youngest Winchester decided he wasn't going to resist his brother's request. He went toward his bed, and climbed in. He turned on his side away from his brother, and pulled the blanket up. And, despite his plans to stay awake and fake it, he actually fell asleep. And, within twenty minutes Dean could hear the soft even breathing of his brother, and knew he was asleep. He climbed into his own bed, and lied down on his stomach and fell asleep quickly.

Meanwhile, in Sacramento, California

John Winchester sat with his head in his hands his eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. There were ritual books and prophecies spread all over the table in front of him. There were charts of lunar cycles, and pages of dates and occurrences. The demon he was after, the trail was so close, but the closer he got to finding it he was understanding that he may win the battle when all was said and done, but in the end the war would be lost. He knew keeping Sammy away from all of this was futile. He hoped Dean kept him far away, but he knew as sure as the sun would set tonight that nothing was going to change what has been set in motion. He would lose his youngest son, one way or the other, and he let the tears fall because he knew in losing one he would lose both. He pulled his head up out of his hands, and pushed at the papers angrily. "What hasn't past isn't in stone, not yet. I won't let you have him." He muttered into his empty motel room. "Do you hear me? I know you're listening, you evil bastard. You took my wife, you won't have my son." He hissed. And, somewhere in a shadowed place a figure withdrew, a smile crossing its face.

The Ryder House

Sam walked into the house behind Dean, and was throwing holy water at the threshold, as Dean threw salt. Dean switched on the lights in the front foyer of the house, and they flickered. "Anybody home?" He asked in an amused voice.

"Damn!" the shout came from Sam, and Dean spun around to his brother and saw Sam clutching an arm.

"What! Sam?"

"That bastard bit me." Dean looked at his brother's sleeve.

"Let me see," he pulled roughly up on the sleeve. Sam tried to jerk out of his brother's grip, but the older sibling held firm.

"Dean, it's just a flesh wound. It didn't break the skin." Dean looked at the bite mark, and shook his head.

"All right, now you've got me pissed," Dean yelled to the air. "And, trust me you don't want to see me pissed." He looked at Sam and nodded. They began their invocations in Latin, and began dispersing salt and holy water in unison.

"Get out!" A deep voice hissed through the house and it resonated in the brother's chests. "I will tear your souls apart. Pick you clean."

"I'm shaking," Dean muttered. Sam smiled and shook his head. "Bring it on," it was a challenge. And, the demon took it. There was a huge roar accompanied with an icy wind. The blast first hit Sam knocking him against the wall. He slid down to a sitting position gasping against the cold that filled his lungs. "Sam!" Dean started to go to his brother, as another blast hit him. Dean dropped and rolled avoiding the full force. He glanced at Sam who was still struggling to catch his breath, but he could see he was trying to stand. Dean moved quickly from his tucked rolling position to a standing one. "Sam?"

"I'm good," Sam said as he began to throw holy water against the walls, the ceiling, floors, and Dean followed suit with the salt. Both in unison began their invocations again. Suddenly, a chair flew across the room, "Duck!" Sam yelled at Dean, but it wasn't quick enough. The chair clipped Dean in the back of the head dropping him to the floor unconscious. "Dean!" And, then all Hell broke loose, quite literally. The demon showed itself to Sam. A man maybe an inch or two taller than Sam stood in front of the young man. His hair was dark, and cropped close to his head, like Dean's. His eyes went from liquid black to a dark brown, and became almost human looking, almost. He wore dark clothing and a long dark duster jacket that hugged his form.

The demon glanced at the unconscious body of Dean on the floor a few feet from where it stood. Sam leveled his gaze on him, "you're not going to touch him." His tone was deadly. A sly smile slid across the demon's mouth.

"I don't have an interest in your brother. He's where I want him, out of the picture. It's you I have business with, Samuel."

"Me? You're lying," he spat. "You've been terrorizing this family. This has nothing to do with me." Sam hazarded a quick glance at his brother who still lay unmoving.

"They were simply a means to an end. I knew this would bring you to me. Oh, Samuel, haven't you grown tired of all of this yet?"

"Tired of what?" Sam began moving back away from the demon tossing holy water in front of him.

"Tired of not reaching your potential. You were born for great things, Samuel."

"It's Sam," his voice ground out under his breath. "You can't cross," Sam snapped at the demon when he saw him step toward him and his line of holy water. He watched in awe as the man in front of him bend, dip a fingertip in the water, and saw the water sizzle. The demon licked his finger, and smiled.

"Mmm, burns so good," he hissed. "Like good whiskey."

"How?" And, before Sam could even react the demon had grabbed him, and pushed against a far wall in the adjoining parlor room.

"What do you take me for young pup, a novice."

"What are you?" Sam stared wide-eyed at the man holding him. He fought against the iron grip, but it was no use.

"I'm not sure 'what' is the appropriate question," the demon cooed into Sam's ear sending a chill down his spine.

"Who then?" Sam spat. The demon smiled.

"I have many names, but to you I am Father."

"You're not my Father," Sam screamed.

"No, but I will be. You will stand at my side. You will be mine flesh and bone."


"I remember your little features Samuel; so, wide-eyed, and willing. I stood over you that night and watched you in your crib. I whispered such wonderful, terrible things to you, and you smiled." Sam stared at this demon in horror, as he realized it was the very demon his Dad had been hunting all these years. This demon took Jessica.

"My mom, you killed her." Sam screamed.

"It was necessary. The blood of the mother had to fall in order to begin the cycle."

"Jess?" Sam's voice wavered.

"Anointing you with her blood was necessary to ignite the revenge, the blood-lust in you to find me. I needed you to seek me." The sound of Dean stirring drew both Sam's and the demon's attention to the other room. "No time, you will see, you will know," the demon hissed. A cold wind grew and began to blow throughout the house. The house howled with a deafening moan. The demon grabbed Sam's head, and he showed Sam everything. The youngest Winchester screamed against the onslaught of images and voices filling his head. Blood began to flow from his nose. Dean could hear the agonizing screams of his little brother, but he couldn't move from his position. He felt pinned down by an invisible force. His head was turned away from what was happening to Sam, and he fought to move, but to no avail. "And, so it begins," the demon spoke in Sam's ear. "We'll meet again," the demon hissed while still holding Sam's head in its hands. "Soon" was whispered, and everything fell silent. Sam watched the demon fade, and as the grip on his head released, so did all his awareness. His eyes rolled back in his head, as he slid down the wall, and passed out.

Dean felt the pressure against him release. He rose up on his elbows quickly, and spotted Sam on the floor against the wall in the parlor. He saw the blood that still flowed from Sam's face. There was so much he couldn't distinguish if it was coming from his nose or mouth. All he knew was that a pool of blood was forming, and he scrambled up, and ran to his little brother. He ripped off one of his shirts leaving himself in a t-shirt, and tried wiping away the blood to see where it was coming from. "Sammy?" His voice caught in his throat.

Sam was quiet, too still. Dean's hand trembled against Sam's neck, as he felt for a pulse. There was one. He bent down to hear if Sam was breathing and he heard quiet gurgled breaths. He cleaned away more of the blood to help him breathe better. The bleeding stopped. Dean found himself talking to his little brother about nonsense things as he pulled up against himself. "Sammy?" Dean jostled his brother trying to elicit a response.

Sam stirred. He opened his eyes and stared at Dean. He turned away from his brother, and refused to meet his gaze. "Sam? Look at me," it was said gently, but a command nonetheless. Sam couldn't look at Dean. His brother had done so much to protect him over the years, and what was coming would destroy that bond, their family. He had to be able to change this. He had been able to save Dean's life tonight when his big brother had been knocked out. The images of what was coming shattered the very insides of him. He would not betray Dean or their Dad. He wouldn't allow it. He pushed away from his brother.

"I'm okay," Sam said quietly. "Let me go." He pulled from his brother's grasp. He stopped himself. He couldn't turn on Dean, and he stopped, and turned to meet eyes with his brother. "How's your head?" He asked looking at Dean squarely in the face now. His brother smiled.

"My skull's like rock," Dean quipped. "I'm okay."

"Good," Sam's voice fell off, and he stared at the floor.


"It's gone, Dean. It won't be back here. The Ryder's can come home." Sam turned to walk toward the door, and suddenly he couldn't control the emotions that were overwhelming him. He dropped his head and reached out for the wall to hold onto something, to support him and his shaky legs threatening to buckle, but instead he felt Dean's protective arms wrap around him.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was soft, and filled with concern. And, Sam felt his knees fully start to buckle, and if not for Dean he would have fallen, but his big brother held him firmly in a standing position. "Shh, it's okay. I got you," he soothed. "I got you little brother." And, Sam wept. He cried for what was coming, he cried for his family. He had to change things. He reached up and held onto his older brother determined to protect Dean from the truth as long as he could. Time wasn't on their side anymore; he continued to cry into his brother's shoulder. Dean held Sam tightly. And, for a moment the darkness pulled back, but for how long? Things were in motion now, and Sam knew it.

To be continued? Let me know if you want more. Read and review!