I don't own Sam or Dean … if I did, I wouldn't be here writing, I'd be … preoccupied!

Thanks to all that left me wonderful reviews on my first story (New Kid)! It inspired me to continue writing.

A Special Thanks to my friend Charlene for offering me so much encouragement!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.


The bitter chill seemed to penetrate Dean's flesh, making even his blood run cold, sending shivers up his spine. The bite from the frigid breeze didn't help matters one bit.

"Remind me that our next hunt is definitely in Florida."

And out came the Sammy eye roll as he chuckled at his brother. Even as he did, Sam pulled his coat tighter around him and shivered. It was cold.

"As if a Sasquach would be in Florida."

"Well, maybe we can go after one of those alligators that got flushed down the toilet. Catch some sun while we're there. You know, I hear the babes are really smoking down there!"

Dean gave one of his cocky, shit-eating grins and Sam gave his brother his patent approved Bitch Face!

"You know Dean, if you actually thought with your upstairs brain … "

Before Sam could finish the woods ended to a large clearing that, if they didn't know better, looked like something off a Hallmark card. It was white and pristine, the slight wind blowing small flakes of snow about. Everything looked calm and peaceful … except the large tracks marring the otherwise virgin snow.

The brothers gave each other the look … the one that said volumes without a word uttered. Nodding, as if there had been some sort of communication between them, Sam took the right side and Dean ventured left.

Tugging his jacket tighter for a minute, Dean held his gun ready, poised for anything to happen. Glancing across, he caught sight of Sam for just a minute before all traces of him disappeared behind the trees. A smile graced his lips; his brother was just as good as he at staying hidden, they had been taught by the best after all. John Winchester might not have been the perfect father, but he taught both his sons how to take care of themselves in even the direst of situations.

Glancing back to his own self-made trail, Dean laid his steps carefully, each one settled slowly so as not to disturb anything and make noise to alert the creature they were hunting. Moving behind a tree, he peered out the other side just as another small gust of wind blew at his back.

Another soft step was taken before a bellow came from the trees, all but making them shake with the intensity of the sound. The inhuman beast they were hunting might not have been able to see them, but that small amount of wind carried Dean's scent right to it.

Another roar was heard before the creature burst from the trees, sending one pine tree to topple to the snow covered ground with a large crack. White fur kept it warm, even in the coldest of climates, its layer of pure muscle made just one shot less than effective.

Coming out from the cover of trees, Dean raised his gun, waiting to fire until the creature got closer, if he shot now he was going to do nothing but piss it off. He didn't see Sam race from his hiding spot, though he knew he was there, he could hear the snow crunching as Sam raced to get in position behind their deadly prey.

When the Sasquach got close, two shots rang out, echoing amidst the growling roars of the beast. One from in front of the monster and one from behind leaving the white, shaggy coat splattered with red where the bullet to its chest penetrated.

Without hesitating, Dean took deadly aim, and with an accuracy trained directly from John Winchester, Dean fired four more shots that hit their mark, but unfortunately didn't drop the supernatural animal. As it closed in, Dean yelled out his brother's name, his gun firing one more time before a massive paw struck, hurling Dean through the air to land with a sickening thud against a tree.

Blackness tried to take him, to claim him and send him to a certain death, but the hunter in Dean refused to fall prey to a Sasquach, especially like this. No, if he were going to die today, he was going out fighting.

The creature barreled toward him even as Dean reached for the fallen weapon, his whole body screaming in protest.

"SAM! A little help here!"

For one split second Dean wondered the lack of his brother, and then the Sasquach was within striking distance. Letting out a mighty roar, it raised a paw, preparing to strike the man that hurt it and finish him off.

Despite the cold, sweat dripped off his brow. The moment seemed surreal and in slow motion, as if Dean was wrapped up in the throes of a nightmare. The kind where no matter how fast you run, the thing chasing you always catches you … right before you wake up.

Dean wanted to wake up now!

His fingers gripped the gun, curling around the still warm metal like a lifeline, nearly caressing his weapon as if it were a lover. The beast raised its paw; the weight behind the hit it was preparing would be nothing less than fatal. Swinging his arm around, his finger squeezed the trigger. The sound echoed throughout the clearing, the bullet flying in what seemed slow motion before it sank into the Sasquaches eye. The thing opened its maw; the sound of pain that it wanted to emit was gurgled. And then the mighty beast fell into a heap, the snow around it pelting up off the ground in a spectacular display.

Dean let out a sigh of relief before his body decided it had enough and darkness claimed him into unconsciousness.


Dr. Daniel Murdoch sat at his desk that overlooked the grounds that was once Sunnydale Hospital. A once thriving hospital, Sunnydale was shut down due to too much bad publicity over some unscrupulous acts; most performed by Dr. Murdoch himself.

Not the sort of man that anyone would take notice of on first glance, he had thinning brown hair that was graying in some spots. The glasses that made reading far easier had slid down his nose, making it look as if he were looking down on whomever he happened to be staring at. The fact of the matter was … he was.

Oh but on second glance, matters changed entirely. Dan had nondescript brown eyes, at least if you didn't look at them clearly. In an out and out stare, he caused more people to shudder than he could count. Most didn't know exactly why afterward, though they always said, 'there was just something about that man.'

That something was Daniel Murdoch, a man who had his license to practice medicine revoked in the state of Tennessee, was brilliantly insane. The type of man that, though madness consumed him, was the same man that could repair a heart that no other surgeon would have tried because of the health risks involved. It was a shame that this once doctor of medicine used his intellect and insight to maim and kill his patients.

The distinct sound of a car pulling into the drive caused the man to glance out the window; a smile curling his lips into something grotesque and sinister. The grin was soon followed by a chuckle as he settled down the papers he had been perusing.

Rising, he stepped from his office, two of his men instantly following his path. Never was the doctor without his guards. The risks were too high, even for a man as cunning as he.

Pausing midway down the hall, he waited for the door to open, and when it did, the smile he'd been wearing nearly cutting his face in half as he gave a small clap of his hands.

"Finally! Did you have any problems?"

One of the men shook his head, his own smile not quite as vibrant as the good doctors.

"Piece of cake, doc. He never knew what hit him."

Finally Daniel looked to the man they were dragging from under his arms. His head was flopped forward causing shaggy brown hair to hang in his eyes, but Dr. Murdoch lifted the young man's head up and grinned as he looked over his placid features.

"I see the tranquilizer worked."

"He fell with hardly a sound."

"He should have … I used enough in that dart to bring a bull elephant to its knees."

Looking back to the young man, Daniel patted his face despite the fact that he was currently out cold.

"Oh Sam Winchester, I've been waiting a long time for this. What fun we are going to have!


Dean roused with a low groan. As his mind tried to come out of the darkness it was surrounded in, his body protested in pain. The first thing he became aware of was that every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he'd hit a tree! The second thing that entered his thoughts was just how cold he was … cold and wet.

Opening his eyes slowly, he realized he was lying on his side in the snow. His mumble came low, as if anything louder might shatter his brain into a thousand gooey pieces.

"Thanks for covering my back, Sam."

The silence was deafening. Nothing came … no apology, no snide remark, nothing.

Slowly lifting his head, Dean glanced around to the meadow he was in. The only thing besides himself in the clearing was the dead Sasquach.


Alarm bells rang out in his head and Dean slowly, with much protesting from his aching muscles, pushed up to sit in the snow.


Not even a bird chirped. It was as if the meadow was lifeless, another world entirely where Dean and the dead creature were the only things there.

"Sam, if this is a game, I swear to God, I am killing you!"

Panic was now in his voice as so many things entered his mind. What if there was another Sasquash? Out and out fear raced up the elder Winchester's mind as he pushed to his feet, pure adrenaline based on fright coursed through him. It drove him onward when all he wanted to do was curl up in a bed and fall into oblivion for a day or three.

While the brother in him wanted to scream, to fall apart when no sign of Sam could be seen, the hunter in him took the reins, the fear settling into the pit of his stomach, awaiting its chance to burst forth. He could hear his father's words in his head as he backtracked the way he had come, toward the place where the beast was first shot.

"Control your fear, Dean. Use it to your advantage. Don't let it win."

He wondered if his father would still be saying that if he knew Dean had let something happen to Sam.

"Watch out for Sammy."

It swam in his head as his pace quickened until he reached where he once stood, where the Sasquach stood, and then, not far behind were Sam's footprints … and something else.

Weapon drawn, he edged closer to inspect the large indentation in the snow right in front of the footprints Sam left. He stared at the spot, freezing in place as he realized just what had made that spot … Sam.

Glancing around, he searched for another set of large footprints belonging to the beast they hunted … what he found were two sets of tracks; very human tracks. Human tracks that led away, and by the looks of the marks between them, they were dragging something.


Dean took off after the tracks, his fear coupled with his anger. Whoever dared touch his brother was getting a bullet between the eyes. Sam was the logical one, the one who rescued people despite how bad they were. Dean, on the other hand, lost any sense of logic when it came to protecting his family. He was like a grizzly defending its den, and whoever crossed that path soon learned the deadliness that was Dean Winchester.

His feet tore up the ground, making crunching sounds in the partly frozen snow as he followed a trail that was easily spotted. No one tried covering it up, even a little. It was almost as if he was led there.

And suddenly they stopped, just vanished. But one other thing caught Dean's eye. One thing that made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach and had bile threatening to rise.

One tire print was etched in the snow before it vanished on the dirt road that led from the forest. Some sick bastard had his brother.

"Son of a bitch!!!"


I know there isn't any Sam POV yet … but don't worry, that is coming next chapter, I promise!! If you notice, there was a HUGE reason Sam's POV was absent.

Grins Now, I LOVE reviews … so let me know if you like it.