Sam peered out the window as he and Dean entered the town of Nunda, NY. Somehow they had gotten lost trying to find the interstate, and not having any maps for this part of New York in the Impala, Dean had no idea where he was going.

The middle of town was truly small. The main road had enough shops, but it didn't look like you could have too much fun in this town. Sam glanced around to see if there was any place to stay, as it was getting dark and they had been driving all day. Suddenly Dean stopped and whipped the Impala into a spot you would surely need to parallel park in to not hit another car.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam asked him as he picked up the stuff on the floor by his feet, which had been in order in a file on his lap only moments ago.

"Why don't we stop here for directions?" Dean said, smirking. They had stopped in front of a place called Lloyd's Pub. They had been in the car all day, and Dean was longing for a couple of beers.

"Tell you what," said Sam, shoving his papers at his brother. "I'm going to go in and have a beer, and YOU can organize all of the papers that fell on the floor when you pulled a 180 into this spot." with that Sam got out of the car and left his brother sitting there with two folders worth of papers to organize.

"Bitch!" Dean yelled after his brother.

"Jerk," said Sam nonchalantly as he opened the door and went inside.
Lloyd's was smaller than Sam had thought. The bar was to his left, and there were tables along the wall to his right, four in all. In the back was a small pool table, which was occupied by a couple of bikers. Sam walked up to an empty spot at the bar.

"Wha'll it be, son?" the bartender smiled a crooked smile at him.

"I'll have a beer." He put a couple of bucks down on the bar, and the bartender returned shortly with a beer in hand. "Thanks," said Sam, taking the beer and taking a generous swig. The bell on the front door jingled, and Sam looked over to see if it was Dean. An intoxicatingly beautiful woman came in an strode up to the bar. Sam couldn't help but check her out as she sat down in the empty chair next to him. Her wavy blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce Sam as he looked at her. She wore the sexiest pair of shorts that Sam had ever seen on a woman, and a low-cut tank top.
Sam was still staring when he brought his beer to his lips and almost missed. Beer trickled down his chin, and he pulled back the bottle so he wouldn't spill beer on himself. The woman saw this and giggled as the bartender brought her a drink. Sam smiled as he set his beer down.

"I'm Loretta," she said, holding out a hand for Sam to shake.

"Sam," he said, shaking her hand.

"So what brings you to this crap hole of a town?" she asked, sipping the pink drink in her hand.

"My brother and I are lost. We're traveling cross-country." Loretta inched closer to Sam, who was staring at her cleavage, or trying really hard not to.

"Well maybe I can help you find your way," she said seductively. The jingle bell over the door sounded again, breaking Sam from his trance. Dean had finally come in and made a beeline for Sam.

"Order me a beer," he said, eyeing Sam's company.

"Get your own!" Sam shot back, knowing full well what his brother was trying to do. Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself in between Sam and Loretta.

"Bartender! Excuse me bartender!" he shouted obnoxiously.

While Sam and Dean were taking shots at each other, Loretta slipped a small white pill into Sam's beer. She smiled when he picked it up seconds later and took a big swig. She needed to get Sam alone. His brother would ruin her plans. She slid off of her barstool and put herself in between the two.

"Why don't we go somewhere more...private," she said seductively to Sam, moving her hands over his muscular arms.

Sam couldn't resist her charms. He got up from the barstool and followed her to a table in the corner.

Dean ordered another beer and sat watching Sam and the mysterious woman. She seemed to have a hold on Sam, and that worried him. Sam usually didn't respond to sleazy women trying to pick him up in bars. He was always too busy buried in his laptop to care. What was different about this woman?

As he took another sip of beer, he saw the two of them get up and leave the bar quite abruptly. Sam was sort of staggering, which was definitely not like him. Dean paid the bartender and followed them outside. As he came out, he saw the woman shoving Sam into the back of a black van. A man twice Dean's size was helping her.

Dean took out his .45 and ran over to the truck, pointing it at the woman. "You'd better get out of my way or you're going to have a couple of rounds up your ass, bitch." Loretta moved back, and Dean ran to the truck. Sam was sprawled on the floor of the van, unconscious.

Almost instantly Dean heard a loud click behind him.

"Move and you're dead." Dean stood up straight, holding up his hands. "Put the gun down."

"Over my dead body," Dean spat back. The man swung the butt of his gun at Dean's head, knocking him out cold.

"Fine, have it your way."

When he started to come around, Dean found himself tied to a heavy metal chair. He was in an empty bedroom. The curtains were shut tightly, leaving Dean to sit in darkness. The walls were painted a deep hunter green, which made the room seem darker. Suddenly the door opened, and a man wearing a black cloak walked into the room. When he saw the pentagram around his neck, Dean knew he and Sam had been trapped by Satanists. Leave it to Sam to fall for some Satanist bitch, Dean thought to himself.

"Were you really going to shoot my wife today?" the man asked firmly.

"If she laid a hand on my brother, I wouldn't have thought twice about it." The man punched him in the face, leaving a nice bruise on his cheek.

"We were only going to sacrifice one today, but I think two would be even better." Dean struggled to free himself at the mention of someone hurting his brother.

"You'd better hope I don't get out of this chair, because if you lay one hand on my brother, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you."

The man laughed maniacally as a piercing scream was heard from somewhere in the house.

The screaming only made Dean struggle harder. He couldn't let them kill his brother. After all they had been through, the last way either of them wanted to die was at the hands of Satanists.

The man turned toward the door. "Loretta!" Seconds later, the woman Sam had been so mesmerized with at the bar strode into the room with them.

"You called?" She leaned in and kissed her husband hard on the lips, knowing it would spite Dean.

"Dean here needs to be "prepared" for ceremony." Loretta smiled and kissed him again.

"No problem baby." The man smiled and started to leave.

"Have fun..." With that he left Loretta in the room with Dean.
Loretta was still in the slutty outfit she used to pick up Sam. She walked over to Dean with a sedcutive look on her face and sat on his lap. Dean tried with all his might not to let it turn him on.

"It's too bad we have to kill you, Dean. You're way more attractive than Sam." She leaned down and gave him a kiss that knocked his socks off.

"Wow," was all he could say. She touched his cheek and whispered in his ear.

"I could offer you a little...pleasure before you die," she whispered. Dean could now see the hold she had on Sam. Loretta was hard to resist, and the fact that she was hot as hell wasn't helping Dean not to get turned on.

"I don't have sex with Satanist bitches. Sorry to disapoint." Loretta slid off of his lap and backed up a few paces.

Angered by his denial of her sexual charms, She strode over to a small table set up across the room and picked up a knife the size of a cleaver.
"You should have accepted, Dean. No one denies me." She walked up to him with the knife, and his eyes went wide with terror.

"Can we talk about this?" he said nervously, squirming and trying to loosen the ropes on his wrists. She cut his shirt open with the blade of the knife. Dean's breathing quickened as she dug the tip into his skin. "No!" he screamed in pain as she carved a pentagram into his chest. Blood rolled down his stomach, collecting in a small bedpan-like object she had placed on his lap. As she did this, Dean had been working his right hand loose, though he knew it was virtually impossible for him to get out of that chair without some help.

As she dug deeper into his chest, the door burst open, and Bobby burst into the room with a shotgun. "Shoot her!" Dean yelled through the pain. Bobby didn't think twice. He put three bullets in her back, and she fell on top of Dean, the knife falling to the floor with a loud clang.

"How the hell did you find us?" Dean asked, breathing heavily as Bobby pushed the dead woman off of him.

"When you didn't show up where we were supposed to meet, I drove around town looking for you two idjits. When I found the car, and your blood, I knew you'd gotten yourself into trouble." He freed Dean of his restraints. Where's Sam?"

"Basement. Let's go."

Bobby got a look at the carving on Dean's chest. The bitch had only finished half of the pentagram. "That's gonna leave one hell of a scar."

"Can we just go?" Dean zipped up his leather coat to hide the carving. He and Bobby made their way to the basement as fast as their feet could carry them. Dean paused when they got to the door. "I'm thinking we shoot first and ask questions later. How 'bout you?"

"I'm up for that. Let's do it." Dean kicked the door open and Bobby opened fire with his shotgun. Dean unloaded his .45 into the big man at the bottom of the stairs. There were at least five of them down there. Dean shot three of them as he made a beeline for Sam, who was tied to a chair. Tthere was blood everywhere, but Sam was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Sammy I'm here," Dean said as he heard his brother whimper in pain. Sam's face and chest were covered in bruises, and there was a small pentagram carved into the middle of his chest. They were getting ready to kill him.

Dean carefully unlocked the chains that held Sam down, and Bobby helped him get Sam outside to the Impala. They laid him in the backseat and covered him with a blanket.

"Where do we go now, Bobby?" Dean asked as he closed the back door. Bobby loaded the last weapon into Dean's trunk and slammed it shut.

"The hospital isn't an option right now. With all this shooting the cops are going to surround this place any second. Get on the road and I'll call you in fifteen minutes." Dean nodded and hopped into the car. As he and Bobby sped off in opposite directions, he could hear sirens in the distance. As he drove through the endless countryside, he began to feel as if he were lost again. His phone started vibrating in his pocket and he answered it immediately.

"There's cops all over the place. We need to get the hell out of town."

"You're not going to get very far with Sam the way he is. I just made a few calls. There's a motel about 30 miles out of town called the Canon Motel. Take your brother there, and I'll meet you there in an hour."

"Got it." He hung up the phone and glanced in the rearview mirror at his brother. "Hold on, Sammy. Don't you die on me, man."

Dean got a room as far away from the road as possible and got his brother inside and onto a bed. Sam was conscious, but could barely talk, for the pain in his jaw was too great. Thankfully they hadn't broken any bones, so Dean and Bobby could stitch him up.

Bobby arrived puntucally with first aid supplies. Dean fetched some ice from the machine outside and fashioned a cold compress for Sam's face. Sam was able to hold it there while his brother and Bobby cleaned up the blood on his chest and bandaged him up.

Dean went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He slowly peeled his jacket and shirt from his body, exposing his wounds to the fresh air. He wet a towel and dabbed at the wounds, to clean up the blood. From the bag he'd left by the bathroom door earlier, he took some gauze, ointment and wrappings, and proceeded to dress his wounds. All this had happened because he was an ass. Over a hot chick.

It was very late, so the three of them crashed for the night. Bobby took the thin, fraying rug, tucking his coat under his head for a pillow, while the boys were forced to share the one queen bed in the room.

Morning came quickly. Bobby tuned the small television in to the local news. Their ordeal was broadcast as a grisly homicide. The Satanism was briefly mentioned, and thankfully there was no mention of the guys nor their vehicles being anywhere near the crime scene.
"You guys got lucky," Bobby said as Dean came out of the bathroom. "You're off the hook with the cops. Nobody saw anything."

"That's good." Dean said tiredly. He got up and retreated back to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, Sam stirred and sat up. He was confused when he saw Bobby packing up a duffel bag.

"Where am I?" he asked feebly. "Where's Dean?"

"How do you feel?" Bobby asked. Sam tried to get out of bed, but Bobby went to his side. "Don't get up yet. You lost a lot of blood last night."

"I"ll be fine. Where's Dean?"

"I'm sorry Sam," came Dean's voice from the bathroom door. "I was an ass. I practically forced you to leave with that bitch. This is all my fault."

"You couldn't have known she was a Satanist, Dean. I was the idiot for letting myself leave with her. I should have known better."

"You're both idjits," Bobby interjected. "But I'm glad you're all right." He picked up his duffel. "I'll catch you on the next one." With that Bobby left them to pack up.

Dean picked up his clothes duffel and started to shove his things into it. Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up. They packed up in silence. Sam winced as he put his dirty clothes into his bag. Every cut and bruise on his body throbbed in pain. Dean noticed and finally spoke up.

"Are you all right? We can stay a while longer."

"No. Let's go." Sam put his duffel on his shoulder and winced with the weight of the strap. Dean took the bag from him.

"You're not all right. Sit down," he ordered. Sam stopped and gave his brother a screw you look.

"I'm. Fine. Let's go." He reached for his bag and Dean was forced to drop the bag, grab his brother's wrists and force him to sit down on the bed.

"Listen to me, damn it! I know you are hurting after what happened. I've been an ass the past couple of days, and I'm sorry. If I had known who that bitch really was, Sammy, I would never have let you leave that bar with her."

"Dean - " Sam hesitated for brief moment. "I want to blame the hell out of you, but I can't. I let myself give in to her. I should have been smarter than that."

"Sam, you couldn't have known she would slip you a mickey and try to feed you to Satan. They almost got me too. I was cocky enough to go after you without calling Bobby, and I almost got both of us kiled."

"I have an idea," Sam said, getting up off the bed. "Why don't we call a truce? It was both of our faults."

"That's a fantastic idea." Dean picked up the duffels he had dropped a moment ago. "Should we get out of here?"

"Absolutely."

Dean stopped in the doorway and turned to his brother, who was putting on his sneakers.

"So you're good now?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm fine."

"Good, because if you ever try to pick up a chick like that again, I'll personally kick your ass," Dean said with a grin. Sam threw a shoe at him, and he ducked.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."