So sorry about the wait!! kinda hard having 5 going at once...never seem to be caught up!! thanks for reading...Sammygirl1963 this is for you, for getting on my sorry butt to write the next chappy, hope you enjoy!! let me know what you think!! babers;)

Chapter Two

Dean stared blankly at the empty Impala, front end bashed in by the huge oak, sides scratched to hell by tree limbs. Dried blood slathered the steering wheel and dotted the black interior of the vehicle. The only other sign besides the blood that Sam had even been in the car was his cell phone, which Dean had found on the front seat of the car. He snatched his brother's phone and placed it in his pocket, knowing he would have to call his father sooner or later to tell him what had happened.

No Sam. Not even a hint of where he might have been dragged off to. Dean had heard the vicious growls of some sort of creature, had heard Sam's plea for help, but as hard as he looked, he couldn't find anything even slightly out of the ordinary about the dark woods. Why the hell does nothing out of the ordinary always seem to mean we're in for a world of shit?

Shining his flashlight toward the ground, Dean searched the damp forest floor again for any signs of a struggle, or even for footprints, but found nothing. Damn it, he couldn't have just disappeared into thin air.

Yanking Sam's cell out of his pocket, Dean flipped it open and called his Dad. So, how the hell am I supposed to tell him I lost Sammy? Better yet, how am I going to tell him Sam was in a car accident because of me, and then I lost him?

His father's answering machine clicked on, and Dean waited till he heard the beep and then said, "Dad, it's Dean . . . ." his voice trailed off, as he thought again how he was going to tell his father about Sam. "Look, Dad, Sam was in a car accident, and now he's missing . . . I could really use your help here, cause something's got him, and I don't even no what I'm hunting." It was a cryptic message at best, but knowing his father, it would be the only kind he would respond to. He flipped his phone closed and returned it to his pocket.

Dean ducked inside the car, snatched the keys out of the ignition, and headed for the back of the car. Popping the trunk, he grabbed his .45, and a sawed-off shot gun, quickly loaded them, and stashed the .45 in his waistband behind his back. He rummaged through the trunk until he found a flask of holy water, knife, and extra rounds. Pocketing them, he quietly shut the lid.

Quickly determining which way he should go, Dean headed north toward the deepest part of the woods, searching for broken branches, footprints, or any other sign his brother had been take this way.


"Open your eyes," Morraema commanded of Sam. "You want to open your eyes for me." Sam's eyelids fluttered briefly and then opened. "Good, now kiss me."

Fight her, Sam, don't do as she says. Don't do it. Sam mentally fought the urge to comply with her wishes, but found he didn't have the will to do so. Cupping his hand around her neck, he pulled her closer to him, and slowly brushed his lips against hers. Pressing himself firmly against her, Sam's tongue trailed across her lips and downward to her neck.

Morraema braced her hands against his shoulders and pushed him away. "You see, you can not fight me. You will do whatever I ask. Now tell me your name."

Again, Sam tried to fight her power over his mind, but as hard as he tried, the words still came tumbling from his mouth. "Sam . . . Sam Winchester."

"Sam," she repeated, tracing his chin with her finger and trailing it down his neck, her hand came to rest on his heart. "You appear to be strong, Sam. I think you will do nicely."

"What do you — "

She placed her fingers to her lips, and Sam's voice faltered. "Shhh . . . I did not tell you to speak. You will do nothing unless I deem it so."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"You see. You will soon learn that there is nothing about you that I can not control. And if you try to defy me. . . ." Morraema's voice trailed off as she plunged her hand inside his chest, leaving his skin unmarred, and clutched onto his heart, squeezing it tightly in her hand. "Let's just say things would not go very well for you."

Wincing, Sam squinched his eyes closed, as stark pain ripped through his chest. Her grip tightened, and he felt his heartbeat slow. Morraema abruptly yanked her hand away, and Sam collapsed to the cold dirt floor, breathing heavily.

Kneeling beside him, Morraema grabbed hold of his chin, and tilted it so Sam was looking her squarely in the eyes. "Now as for your question. I find myself in need of a hunter.Someone with . . .abilities."

Sam shook his head, opening his mouth to deny he had any, but her steely grip tightened around his chin, squeezing his mouth closed.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, trying to deny it will do you no good." She turned her head to glance in the direction of the far corner of the darkened cave they were in, and Sam saw the same glowing red eyes, he'd seen early that night. Morraema returned her attention to him, a wicked smile crossing her features. "You see my pets, as I call them, have the ability to sniff out those who are endowed with certain gifts." Jabbing her spindly finger into his chest, she continued, "They lead me to you."

Morraema leaned in, licked around the edge of his earlobe, Sam visibly shuddering in response, and then she whispered, "I am definitely pleased with their choice." Pulling away from him, she slammed her hand down hard on his broken leg, and Sam cried out. "But, I can not have a broken hunter, now can I?"

From beneath her fingertips, steam rose upward and was lost in the gloom. Stark searing heat, burned through Sam's flesh, and then instantaneously cooled. Sam moved his injured leg, and was surprised to find it no longer hurt. She ran her fingers along his forehead, and the gash closed in on itself, disappearing totally with in a matter of seconds. He glanced up into her strange two-toned eyes, a look of utter confusion on his face.

She chuckled. "For now," was the only reply she gave for the unasked question. "Now I deem it that you speak, for a one-sided conversation becomes a little tedious."

"Wh-who are you?" Sam managed to choke out, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"Just a demon. No one you may have ever heard of . . . but a demon nonetheless." She stood and turned her back to him. "But things change . . . sometimes it is the lesser of two evils that is the biggest threat."

Bracing himself against the chilled wall of the cave, Sam rose to stand on shaky legs. "Don't understand."

She swung back to face him, a malevolent glint in her eyes. "It is not for you to understand. It is for you to obey."

Icy air spilled into the open cave, and Morraema shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She glanced into the center of the room, and an explosion of flames erupted from a deep pit, thick black smoke, writhing toward the ceiling. "Your world is much colder than I am use to. Always scorching hot where I come from."

Morraema returned her attention to Sam. "Now as for your special talents, what are they?"

Sam shook his head. "Don't have any."

Stalking toward him, Morraema grabbed hold of his flannel shirt, and lifted him in the air, his feet dragging on the ground. "Do not lie to me. My pets have never been wrong before."

From deep within the cave, Sam heard the sound of her pets, snarling and growling, as her anger increased.

"Just visions."

"Visions?" she snapped, scarcely controlling her anger. "Visions." Whipping Sam around, she threw him against the far wall. "I ask for an assassin and I get a visionary."

Morraema stalked back and forth, breathing heavily. The red-eyed creatures whimpered, sensing their master's unbridled fury. Reddish-gold flames from inside the fire pit, crackled loudly as they rose to scorch the earthy ceiling above.

Sam edged his way toward the opening of the cave, hoping he could make a break for it before she realized he'd gone.

She swung to glare at him. "Stop where you are," she commanded, and as hard as he tried, Sam couldn't make his feet move. Storming to him, Morraema slammed her fist into his face, blood spilling from his split lip. "I already told you, there is nothing about you I can not control, Sam."

"I can't help you. I don't have any special gifts."

"No, that's where you are wrong." Shaking her head, Morraema touched his forehead, and smiled. "I think you can help me. I think you have very special gifts — I can see them. You will do nicely."

"I won't kill anyone for you."

"I'm afraid you won't have a choice in the matter."


The sound of Sam's cell phone ringing, broke through the silence of the forest, and Dean quickly snatched it from his pocket.

"Dean," came his father's deep voice from the other end of the line.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What happened to Sam? You were supposed to be watching out for him."

In those few words, Dean realized that his father would never forgive him if anything happened to his brother. Hell, I won't forgive myself if anything happens to him.

"We had a fight . . . he took off in my car — I didn't even try to stop him."

"What were you fighting about?"

"Same as always. You."

John was quiet for a moment, and Dean heard him sigh deeply.

"And you're sure he was in a car accident?"

"Yeah, bashed in the front end of the Impala." Dean grimaced, thinking how long it would take to repair the damage to his baby.

"You mentioned something taking him . . . what do you think it is?"

"Dunno, Sammy called me after the accident. I heard growling and then the line went dead." Dean paused for a moment, remembering the conversation with his brother, and then added, "No, that's not exactly true. Something came through the phone line, and melted the shit out of my cell."

"Wondered why you were using Sam's phone." John was quiet for another moment, and Dean could picture his father twirling his wedding band around on his finger as he tried to figure out what they should do next. "So let me get this straight. Something took your brother. Something with enough demonic power to melt your phone from God knows how many miles away, and you have no idea what it is or how to find it."

"Yeah, that pretty much covers it."

"Where are you."

"Near Jacksonville, North Carolina."

"I'll be there as fast as I can."


"Yeah, Dean."

"Thanks." Dean hung up the phone, and turned south to continue his search, relieved to know his father was on his way.