A/N: Things change. I had a plan, really. There's a certain birthday girl who's a sucker for a hurt Sam Wee-chester. I had one. The muse decided to play with my mind. Dreams suck they really do. So sorry it's not a wee-chester, birthday girl, but it IS hurt Sam. Set between season two and three. AU, definitely.

So Jean, it's all here for you. Psychic Sam, Freaked Dean, Bobby and one of your favorite returning characters... with a flash back to a wee-chester. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY FRIEND.

Soncnica, I'm still working on the wee-chester, but to give it the time it deserves, it's going slow. don't give up on me girl. You'll love the hurt Sam here better anyway! you and I are too much alike.

Oh, I don't own them, I just scar them. That's a disclaimer. And a warning: Violence, drugs and if you don't know much about animal trapping you'll learn just how bad I hate it and you'll hate it too. It sucks to catch a tire in a trap when you're riding 4-wheeler, imagine a body part while you're enjoying a walk. Rant over, Enjoy the story. Don't forget to review! PLEASE(gives Sam's puppy dog eyes)

And He Becomes the Hunted

Chapter 1

"Don't give me that crap! I was the one with him. I went out, came back, fell asleep and when I woke up he was gone! I…"

"Shut your freakin' mouth boy! This was no more your fault than it was mine. We'll find him. If you go workin' yourself into a tizzy you'll do him more harm than good."

"Sorry Bobby. I'm sorry. I'm just freakin' worried. Last time he disappeared he was possessed."

"I know Dean." Bobby sighed over the line. "We'll find him okay? He's got the tattoo now. He can't be possessed unless something breaks the skin. Even then that tat went deep so it might not be able to take him over completely. I'm sure he's okay. We'll bring him home. Just stop blamin' yourself for him goin' missin'."

Dean leaned against the bumper of the Impala, clutching the phone to his ear like a lifeline. He sighed and ran a shaking hand through his hair and down over the back of his neck as he doubled over slightly. He pushed his left hand off his thigh, standing upright again as he turned and went to the driver's side of the car. The door squeaked loudly as he opened it and got inside. "Okay Bobby. I'll meet you in an hour." Dean closed his phone and dropped it on the bench seat. He put his forehead on the steering wheel and closed his eyes. "Sammy." He whispered. "Please, little brother. Let us find you." Dean sat up and fired the car's engine. He pulled out into the hatefully sunny afternoon and made his way across town to meet Bobby.

Sam stirred and snapped awake; sitting up hurriedly. He sagged against the cold wall as dizziness slammed into him. His stomach lurched painfully and the room spun. Where the hell am I? His thoughts were muddled, and he found himself studying his surroundings. His back felt damp and cold where he leant against a cement block wall. It was dark but he could make out some of what was in front of him. Bars. His breath caught in his throat."Dean?" He gasped out. His throat was dry and dust in the air threatened to choke him. He cleared his throat and swallowed, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. "DEAN?!" He called again.

"Look who's awake." A voice rang out in the darkness. Sam squinted to peer through the inky black but all he could make out was a vaguely human shape standing several inches from the bars.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam tried to sound threatening but his throat was so dry he sounded a bit like a frog even to his own ears.

"Are we thirsty?" Sam refused to answer yet as he heard the sloshing of water into a tin cup coming from the direction of the speaker in the darkness his mouth turned even more into the Sahara and he longed for the water. He watched as the figure stooped and then he saw the cup resting on the cement floor just outside the bars. "Come on, drink up." The voice said again.

"No. You probably did something to it. Drugged… Why are you keeping me here?" Sam wanted to demand answers, to see his jailer, but his eyes kept drifting to the tin cup on the floor.

The shape drifted closer to the bars, holding the thermos the water came out of up to his mouth. "Now, now, would I drink if it was drugged?" He said after Sam heard him swallow.

"Could be a trick. I can't see you well enough to be sure you drank that water."

"Well, you'll just have to take my word… Or, I could just dump it right down the drain…"

"No. No I want the water." Sam scrambled over and reached a hand through the bars. He took the tin cup and squeezed his hand back through, bringing it to his lips. He swallowed the cool water, allowing it to ease the burn in his throat.

"Who are you?" Sam asked again, his quenched thirst allowing his voice to be stronger. "Why…ungh…" He cried out and clutched a hand to his head as his vision swam. A burn started in his stomach and quickly spread like fire through his veins. "What did… you do… You said…not…drugged. You drank…"

"It wasn't. Not for me. It was laced with something that interacts with what's already in your system. Sammy Winchester… the latest in a long line of psychics who have been my guest here in my humble abode." Sam looked up at the shadow of a man through a darkening field of vision. He slumped to the cement floor, holding a hand to his stomach as pain ripped through him again. He felt fatigue swamp him and slid further down, resting on his left side, his legs curled under him. "Enjoy your stay," was the last thing he heard as his vision went black and his head hit the cement with a dull thunk.

Dean pulled into the motel where he and Sam had been staying when Sam disappeared. It was where Bobby decided to meet Dean. Dean was a good tracker but Bobby was the best. If anyone could find something to help them get to Sam it would be him. Dean crawled wearily out of the Impala but couldn't force himself to go into the room. He leaned against the hood of the car and stared off into the distance. His thoughts carried him away.

Sammy. Missing. Is he hurt? God, please don't let him be…No! No, he's okay, he's just venting. We'll find him and he'll just have taken a walk or something and forgot to leave me a note. That's it. A walk, a really, really long walk. I'm gonna kill 'im. No I'm not, I'm gonna give him a hug, a huge, much overdo hug and then, then I'm gonna kill him." Dean was startled from his musings by the rattle of Bobby's ancient truck as it pulled into the lot. Dean straightened from the car and walked over.

"Hey Bobby." Dean said as he clapped the older hunter on the shoulder.

"Kid, you look like shit. How you holding up?"

Dean breathed a laugh as his hand went to the back of his neck in a gesture that was a dead giveaway about how stressed he was. "'m okay Bobby."

"Then just why were you waitin' in the parking lot for me," Bobby put his hand to the seam of the hood where it met the nosepiece just above the chrome grill "for probably the last half hour?"

"Uh… Couldn't make myself go in. I swear Bobby, if he's hurt…" The older hunter put a hand to Dean's neck, squeezing gently.

"Hey, we'll find him. Now," Bobby said as he dropped his hand and turned towards the door of the room, "let's go see if there's a trail."

Dean led the way into the room, forcing himself not to hesitate in the doorway. Bobby looked at the back of Dean's head, sensing his fear of finding out that his brother was in trouble. God, I hope he's not. Bobby thought as he cast his eyes about the room. He walked carefully to the bed farthest from the door. Sam's bed. The covers were still slightly rumpled, where Dean's were twisted and hanging off the edge in a tangled heap. Bobby lifted the edge, careful not to disturb anything that might be laying in the worn, but, thankfully, clean beige carpet. He leaned down and looked around the edge of the bed. Seeing nothing he was just about to straighten when something caught his attention. It was a smell. He recognized it immediately. "Dean, when you came back to the motel last night…"

"I was drunk." Dean said morosely. "I was stupid and went out and got wasted." Dean said as he slumped down on the edge of his bed and leaned his elbows on his thighs, looking up at Bobby with watery eyes. "It's just… we've been in too close quarters for too long, ya know? Sam was being a pain and I… I just blew him off." Den dropped his gaze before looking back up. His eyes were scared. "I swear, never again. When I get him back I'm never gonna do it again."

Bobby looked at Dean, appraising the young hunter he considered to be like a son. "We'll get him back. I promise ya that Dean." Bobby cast his eyes back to the youngest Winchester's vacant bed and caught sight of something white just under the edge of the bed. Bobby lifted the small hunk of white and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

"What is it Bobby?" Dean asked as he stood and walked over.

"It's a tooth."

"A tooth?"


"What, like a sharks tooth or something?"

"It's human. Full grown human."


"No. It has roots connected to it, but there's no blood. It's bleached white. If it was Sam's it would've been knocked out and would have bled. Even drunk you'd have heard him make noise if someone slugged him to kidnap him. This is something else Dean. They were quiet." The tooth was oddly shaped and suspended from what looked like a piece of bronze wire with a small ring looped into it. It looked like it belonged on a necklace. Bobby stood from his crouch and walked to the table, putting the macabre amulet on the table. "Were you and Sam hunting anything that might have gotten tipped off that you were after it?"

"No Bobby. We were just about to leave town. There's nothing kill-worthy in this ditchwater burg."

"Unn…" Sam coughed and shifted on the floor. Pain speared through his head and his unsettled stomach, causing him to curl in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen and turned his cheek into the cold cement. The cement bit into his cheek and he barely stifled a moan. Chills covered his frame in goose bumps and he shivered from the cold that had seemed to seep into his bones. Sam unwrapped his arms from his torso and pushed himself upright, stopping when his vision blackened around the edges. He took a steadying breath, forcing the nausea into submission and levered himself more upright to sit on the floor. He looked around and saw he was still in the cage-cell- whatever the hell it was. "Great." He said softly, a groan on his voice. He found that he had been stripped of his flannel shirt while he was unconscious this time. His captor left him in his jeans, shoes and gray tee shirt that he'd been wearing.

"Oh…" Sam moaned as he leaned back against the cold block wall again. His head felt like it was swimming. He ran a cold hand through his hair and settled the digits against his forehead, hoping the chill would ease the pounding of his head. Finally feeling a bit of relief he looked around again and levered himself to his feet. He staggered as if he was drunk and leaned back against the wall until his lurching stomach and spinning world settled again. He pushed away from the wall and went to the bars, clenching both fists around the cold steel and rattling the locked door in its frame. "Damn it!" He said irritably when the door refused to give. He moved to the back wall and leaned against it, allowing his muddled mind to go back over what his captor had said to him just before he passed out.

Sammy Winchester… the latest in a long line of psychics… been my guest here in my humble abode. Psychics… "What the hell?"

Sam slid down the cold wall to sit on the cement floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his aching head on them. His eyes slipped closed and he began to doze.

"Who the hell wears a human tooth as a fashion statement?" Dean asked as he glared at the offending object on the table. Bobby had scoured the rest of the room and had come up empty. He now sat at the table also staring at the tooth, worry for Sam darkening his bearded features.

"I wanna check outside, see if there's a trail to follow from here." Bobby glanced up. "Do ya remember anything odd happenin' while you two were in town?"

"We stopped here after gettin' done with the last hunt. Next town was six hours away and it was already a little after five. We checked in and went to grab a bite. Sam was being pissy and I called him on it. We'd been at the diner for just a few minutes when he started rubbin' at his temple. He looked at me. Scared. So I grabbed him and we booked. I barely got him to the car when he went all mind freak on me."

"A vision?"


"What'd he see?"

"He said there was a guy running through some woods. Scared. Kept glancin' over his shoulder. Sammy said a couple times that there was a shadow, real close to the guy. Anyway he said he saw the guy hit a trip wire and he heard a gun go off. Guy dropped. Sam snapped out of it then."

Bobby turned his attention back to the table and an open newspaper before asking, "Sam tell you what the guy looked like?

"Uh, yeah. Hair about the same as Sam's. Ya know, shaggy. Sandy blonde though. Not as tall, about the same age. Had a tattoo, a nautical star, on his elbow."

"This him?" Bobby said as he turned the open paper to show Dean a picture on the third page.


So, birthday girl, here's that question: Still want to wait for the rest of this one?