I just wanna say thanks a million to Kripkeisgodwho wrote a very amazing veiw of this story on my LJ journal. It gave me the confidence to post it here. Thanks so much hunnie :)

A few things to clear up: Dean and John are evil but not possessed! And there not evil to Sam...i think they're more crazy then evil *shrugs* u decide which one lol

WARNINGS! A bit of torture, a decent amount of blood, EvilWinchesters (Apart from Sammy) dark themes (NOT Wincest) Crazy-Dean. Crazy-John. Possessive-Dean. Protective-Dean. Protective-John. Serial-killers.

I have now warned you so please dont read if you dont like the warnings!



Present day-August 2001

The leaves crunched under their weight as they ran, jumping over tree-roots sticking out of the ground, and trying not to trip on stupid things such as twigs and rocks. It was hard to do when they refused to let go of each other's hand, refused to separate to go around trees, refused to move even a foot infront of the other. They needed to be hand-in-hand, needed to be side-to-side, needed to feel the other's presence so they knew they weren't alone, so they knew that the other wasn't left behind.

Their blood rushed through their veins, their hearts pounding against their chest, their breathes coming out heavy and loud in the night air. They were exhausted from the fighting and the running and just generally trying to stay alive.

Their exhaustion showed when the pretty blonde-haired girl stumbled because of her own two feet getting mixed together. She fell to her knees, letting out a small yelp of surprise and pain as one of her legs went down on a small rock. Her light-coloured jeans were already ripped and dirty from the night's events, her pink sweater ruined with more dirt, sweat and her tears. Her hair, which was normally curly and perfect, not a strand out of place, was now a total mess, sticking out this way and that, and a small leaf or two stuck in there somewhere from when she bumped into the branches.

The guy that was attached to her hand came to a sudden halt when he felt her go down. Instantly, he bent down and grabbed her arms, pulling her back up. "Come on, Jess. We gotta keep movin.'" His voice held panic, determination and something else that she couldn't identify, something far more urgent.

The guy wasn't much better off than her, his clothes just as torn up and dirty. His demine jeans were ripped at the bottom after he tripped on the roots one too many times, his dark blue hoodie had a slash down the left side from the glass that had caught onto it when they escaped from the broken window.

She was scared of getting caught by the people that were chasing them. Scared that they were going to kill her slowly and painfully like they promised they would. Scared that she was never going to see her family again. Scared that she wouldn't get the wedding day she had been planning, that she wouldn't have the chance to have a family of her own with the guy she was running with.

She knew her fears were nothing compared to the fears her boyfriend had. If they were caught again that night, she knew her boyfriend would get the worse end of the deal.

"We can't keep going like this, Sam." Jess panted as she ran alongside him.

Sam knew they couldn't keep this up, they couldn't run all night. They would drop of exhaustion way before the people chasing them would, he knew that. But that didn't mean they could give up. They couldn't give up, they didn't have a choice! He knew Jess was terrified. Anyone in their right mind would be. Hell, he was! But he couldn't stop now, he wouldn't.

Sam's fears were completely different than Jess's but that didn't mean they weren't just as real, didn't mean they weren't just as much there, making his heart crash into his ribs and his body shake slightly. As much as he hated to think of it this way, he knew that Jess would get the easier end of the deal. All they would do to Jess was kill her, but him?

They wouldn't kill him. They would make him watch as they cut up the love of his life just to teach him a lesson, they would make him travel with them across the country, making him watch as they killed innocent people, make him sometimes join in.

They would make him go back to the life he had left behind two years ago. He couldn't go back to that. It had nearly destroyed him the first time around.

But if John and Dean Winchester were anything it was persistent and when they wanted something they would stop at nothing, absolutely nothing! until they got it.

And what they wanted the most? What they have always wanted, especially for the past two years, was their youngest family member. Samuel Winchester.

July 1991

8 year-old Sammy Winchester slowly woke up from his dream-less sleep and found himself in the backseat of his Dad's car. It wasn't unusual to wake up there, but normally he would have fallen asleep there too, but as far as he could remember he had fallen asleep in the motel. So why would his Dad and Dean carry him out to the car at this time of night?

Sam rubbed his tiny fist against his right eye, trying to wake himself up more. He slowly sat up and looked around. He couldn't see his Dad or Dean anywhere. All he could see was hills and trees…oh, and that little barn a couple of yards away.

As his brain came into the land of the living, he realised what was going on. This had happened countless times before. His Dad and Dean would stop the car in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night and enter a house/barn/woods or anywhere else that normal people wouldn't dream of going in. Dad would always leave him strict instructions to stay in the car no matter what, and Dean would always leave strict instructions to keep the doors locked and to get some sleep. But tonight Sam was sick of not knowing what was going on, sick of being kept in the dark.

Besides, he was a very curious little boy. His mind couldn't rest until it had the answers of the Universe.

So, despite knowing he shouldn't, despite knowing he wasn't allowed and despite knowing that Dad and Dean would probably be pissed that he didn't listen, Sammy unlocked the car doors and slowly slid out.

The cold air hit him full force after being locked in a warm car, and goose-bumps showed up on his arms. He rubbed his hands up and down them a few times before giving up and started the walk up to the barn. It wasn't a long way from the car, and before he knew it, he was standing outside the double doors. He felt a flare of panic go through him at the thought that they would catch him here, but it was soon squashed down by his curiosity.

He slowly opened the door an inch, praying it wouldn't make a noise. He got lucky as the door opened without protest. He couldn't make out much as the barn was in darkness, but his eyes adjusted soon enough and he could see some stables at the back, a dim light flicking in one of them.

Sam moved forward, leaving the door open a bit incase he needed to get back out again quickly. He took a couple of steps before he stopped dead in his tracks as he heard noise coming from the stable with the light.

The noise was muffed by something but Sam could tell that it was someone crying. A woman perhaps? Crying? Screaming?

Sam frowned, moving another step before he heard his Dad's voice.

"Scream all you want bitch. No one's hearing you."

Sam's eyes widened at the cruel words, the tone of voice his Dad used. Sam could only describe it as a sneer, mocking, cruel…evil. His Dad had never sounded like that before. His voice was mostly gentle and soft around Sam, unless Sam did something he wasn't supposed to, but even then his tone was only firm. Never sounded like this before.

This time when Sam moved, he managed to get to the beginning of the first stall before he was stopped again, this time by Dean's voice.

"She won't last long, Dad."

"Yeah. You worked her over nicely. Good work, son."

Sam could hear the praise; hear how proud his Dad was. But what was he proud of? Who wouldn't last long? Why wouldn't they last long?

Sam crept forward, his right hand moving against the wall to hold himself steady. He stopped when he got to the last stall where the light was, where he heard his family talking. He wearily poked his head around the corner, saw the sight infront of him, then quickly pulled back again. He squashed himself against the wall, and threw a hand over his own mouth to keep the gasp from coming out. Tears burned at his eyes, one or two slipping out. His whole body was trembling slightly.

When he had himself under better control, he removed his hand from his mouth. Determined that he had seen wrong, he slowly poked his head around again. This time he watched what they were doing, unable to look away. Frozen.

He was scared. He was confused. He didn't understand.

Sam had been right when he thought that it was a woman. She must have been in her early twenties, long dark hair that curled around her shoulders. If Sam had seen her anywhere but here, he would have thought she was pretty, but now, with tears, snot, spit, dirt and blood covering her face, you couldn't really call her anything but a mess. She was indeed crying and screaming, but the pink scarf that was tied around her head and stuffed into her mouth, stopped the noise from being heard from afar.


It was everywhere.

All over the stable's walls and floor. All over the woman's clothes, face, arms and in her hair. And all over Dean and his Dad.

His Dad was leaning against the left wall, a place in perfect view of Sam's eye-line. He had his arms crossed against his chest; his feet were crossed at the ankles. He looked relaxed, like he was waiting patiently for Dean to finish whatever he was doing.


Dean was crouching over the woman, his hands and clothes covered in her blood. His left hand was stroking her hair gently, the same way he would stroke Sam's hair to get him to sleep at night, but his right hand…his right hand held a knife. A knife that was also dripping in blood.

Her blood.

Sam couldn't breathe. What the hell was going on? What was Dean doing and what was his Dad allowing Dean to do? He held his breathe as his brother started to speak to the woman.

"Shhh. It's okay." He soothed, but just like Sam, the woman wasn't fooled for a moment and only cried more. "It won't hurt much longer, we're almost done."

"Dean, I don't wanna rush ya, but we need to get back to the car before Sam wakes up. Wrap it up, kid, alright?" Sam's eyes had gone over to his Dad when he spoke. He felt a spark of anger at the words, but kept silent. He wasn't stupid enough to make himself known.

"Got it Dad." Dean replied. He had turned to face Dad as he spoke, and Sam could see the small flecks of blood splattered across his face, could see the small creepy smile he had never seen before on Dean.

What on earth was his family doing?

His question got answered a minute later when Dean plunged the knife into the woman's chest. Over and over again until the woman lay lifeless on the floor.

Sam watched, eyes wide and running with tears, as his Dad moved over to Dean and clapped a hand to his shoulder, smiling down at him. "Good job son." He praised. "I'm proud of ya."

Dean smiled back as he straightened his shoulders more. "Thanks, Dad."

"Alright. Let's get back to the car and get Sam back to the motel."

Sam knew he should have ran, should have sprinted for the door as fast as he could, got back into the car and pretended he was waiting there all along. But he couldn't. He wouldn't have been able to move a bloody inch even if you paid him to.

He stood, staring at the body of the dead woman. His vision was burly as his tears continued to fall. Dean had killed her. He had stabbed her. Without hesitation, without a second thought, without remorse. He had killed a woman!

'Oh my God! His 12 year-old brother was a murderer'

That was all that played in his mind, as his Dad and brother turned around to walk out of the stable. He dimly heard the surprise gasp that they both made when they saw him standing there, watching them. He should have ran. Run! Run as far and as fast as he could! But the problem was; he couldn't. He couldn't damn well move! Not even when Dean stepped forward and spoke.


He ignored him and continued staring at the woman. That was a woman. Someone's daughter, someone's friend, maybe someone's girlfriend, or someone's mother. That was someone's life. A life that Dean had willingly taken.

Sam's stomach was flipping over and he felt nauseous. He gagged slightly as the smell of blood hit his senses. This was his family. The same family that would read him stories at night after tucking him in, the same family that would hug and kiss him every morning when he woke up and every night before bed, the same people who would make him breakfast and make sure he was clean.

The same family who were unbearingly overprotective, who hardly let him out of their sights, who would go mental if he only took a couple of steps outside the motel room if they weren't with him, who wouldn't let him go to school like normal kids, who wouldn't let him put himself to bed or make his own breakfast.

They were his family. And they just murdered a young woman.

"What the hell you doin' here, Sam?" Sam scrambled back a few steps when he saw his Dad walk towards him. Seeing his youngest son backing away from him, John instantly stopped. He didn't want Sam scared of him or Dean but he knew that Sam was more than scared right now.

"Dad, let me handle this, alright?"

Sam's eyes swung over to Dean. Dean's hand was on his Dad arm, stopping John from moving forward, but he hadn't looked away from Sam for a moment. Sam thought it was to make sure he didn't run. Dean took another step forward slowly, as if Sam was a wild animal.

"You were supposed to stay in the car, Sam." Dean said quietly, speaking just above a whisper, eyes glued to Sam's own set. Sam looked behind Dean to where John was now pacing back and forth, looking from Sam to the dead woman.

"Because you didn't want me to see this?" Sam's voice was no more but a whisper, his throat felt scratchy because of the amount of tears that he'd silently cried as he watched his 12-year-old brother, his hero and his idol become a murderer.

Or was Dean already a murderer before this night? How long has this been going on for? A couple of weeks, months, years? All this life? How old was Dean when he first killed someone? How old was his Dad?

"No, Sammy, you weren't meant to." Dean responded, still keeping his voice low, still slowly moving closer. "But, honesty…I'm glad you did. It was about time you knew."

Sam backed away for each step Dean took until his back hit the wall of another stable-stall, blocking him in. His breathing become heavier as the fear in him grew. He's never been scared of his family before…never been scared of Dean. Dean was the person he went to for comfort and safety, Dean was the person he went too to keep the nightmares away…if only he knew that Dean was the nightmare!

"About time? W-what are you talking about?" his voice shook along with his entire body. Dean was only a few steps away from him now and his Dad had stopped dead... ('No no, don't think of the word dead') …his Dad had stopped in mid-step and was now watching every move his sons made.

"Well, me and Dad was only talking about it a few nights ago, weren't we, Dad?" Dean turned his upper body to face his Dad as he asked the question. Once he received a nod, he turned back to Sam, his eyes lighting up in excitement, his whole body giving off a happy vibe, as if he couldn't wait to tell Sam all about it. "And we were thinking that it was about time you knew, about time you understood." He moved another step closer before stopping completely, a huge smile on his face as he started babbling on about things that Sam didn't want to know. "God, Sam, it's amazing. The power that runs through you, the way it makes you feel, I just know you're gonna love it, Sammy. Nothing feels like this…"

Before he could continue, Sam interrupted. He was scared that Dean would confirm his fears but he had to ask, "Like what, De? Killing someone? You get a power rush from taking someone's life?"

Dean started nodding his head by the time Sam finished 'killing someone.' "You have no idea what it's like, Sammy. But you will soon, alright. Now that you know…"

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Sam interrupted again, thinking about what Dean could possibly finish that sentence with and feeling his stomach twist and roll. "Now that I know what, Dean?" He could be wrong, after all. For all he knew…ok, for all he hoped…Dean would have said that now Sam knew it would stop. He was smart but he was still 8 after all, he still had that childish innocence, that part of his brain that was still naïve and liked to believe that Superman and Santa were real.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the question, figuring that it was obvious. Sam was 8, not stupid, infact Sammy was the smartest 8-year-old that Dean knew; he was the smartest in the family.

When Dean started speaking, he spoke slowly, making each word clear as if he was asking directions from someone who spoke another language, his right hand waving in the air just as slowly. "Now that you know." He drawled out. "You can help; you can be a part of this. We won't have to keep you locked in the car anymore or make sure you're asleep when we carry you out of the motel. Won't you like that, Sammy? Don't you want to help us?"

Sam's eyes widened when Dean confirmed it. His first reaction was to shout 'NO, YOU LUNATIC!' at the top of his lungs, but he was scared of what his Dad and Dean would do. Instead he slowly shook his head, disbelief written all over his face at what he was hearing. Help them? Help them with what? Help them take a life, help them destroy someone's family? Help them destroy him?

Dean frowned as Sam silently told them no. Why wouldn't his brother want to help them? Dean slowly turned towards his Dad as he asked, "Maybe it's too soon? Maybe he's not ready?"

John instantly responded, shaking his head as his hands went on his hips. "No, Dean, that's not it, son. You were younger than Sam when you were ready. He just doesn't understand yet, son. We've gotta explain it to him; help him understand, that's all. He's just confused. As soon as he understands what you're telling him, as soon as he feels that rush for himself…than he'll be ready. You'll see." John soothed his oldest. He knew Dean had been excited about telling Sam, his oldest thinking that it was his job to teach Sam everything, and this was one thing that Dean couldn't wait to teach.

Sam frowned as he listened to his Dad. He would never be ready! He wanted to shout at them, to scream that he would never be ready to play God with someone else's life! That he had no right to and neither did they! His family was crazy…they never seemed crazy before, but they sure as hell were crazy now.

No matter how much he wanted to tell them to stop, tell them to stop joking around because it was far from funny in his eyes, his throat muscles wouldn't work. So he did the only thing that his instincts were screaming at him to do…Run! Run as far and as fast as he could. He had to get away. He wanted no part of this.

So, while his Dad and brother was too busy discussing him, he edged along the wall until Dean was no longer infront of him, he then turned and ran for it, not even stopping when his Dad shouted his name in surprise.

"Sam, get back here! Now!" he ignored his Dad as he ran for the barn-door. It was right there, right infront of him, just a little faster and he would be able to reach it, would be able to leave this place and hopefully leave the memories with it.

As soon as his hand wrapped around the door-handle, he felt arms wrap around his waist and drag him back, lifting his feet slightly off the floor. Sam started crying harder, his breathes catching in his throat as it tried to get the next sob out and breathe at the same time. He kicked his feet and tried to push the arms away but he was never able to get out of Dean's hold before and now was no different.

"Let me go!" He shouted, struggling for all his worth. To an outsider it would look like he was being kidnapped by a couple of kid-killing psycho's, it wouldn't even cross their minds that it was his older brother restraining him while their Dad stood back, watched and allowed it to happen.

He continued to struggle all the way as Dean lowed them both to the floor, his knees going underneath him while he forced Sam to practically sit in his brother's lap. Dean's arms wrapped around him fully, pinning Sam's arms to his sides, while Dean's hands clasped together on Sam's chest, easily pinning Sam to him.

"Calm down, Sammy. It's ok, just calm down. I'm right here, dude, it's alright," Dean whispered, hoping to sooth his little brother but Sam either ignored him or couldn't hear him over his own shouts. Dean didn't understand Sam's reaction, he never reacted like this when he first started and he was 7. Sam was nearly nine, he should have understood it by now.

Sam continued to cry and struggle, doing anything he could think of to get away, but he wasn't strong enough. He never was. "Let go of me, Dean. Please, let go." Sam sobbed, hoping his brother would at least feel sorry for him if nothing else and let him go. But Dean didn't. Instead he tightened his arms and pulled Sam even closer.

Sam didn't know when his Dad had walked over, didn't know when John had kneeled down infront of them, but he felt John's hand under his chin, lifting his face up. John had an understanding look on his face; like this was the reaction he expected. For some reason, that's what got Sam angry. Up till now, the anger stayed at bay, and Sam only felt the sadness creep in and the fear and the sense of loss. But one look at his Dad's patient, understanding, 'I know how you feel' look had Sam's anger flying towards the surface quicker than a bullet leaving a gun.

Sam lost the fight against Dean, his body sagging under the weight of how defeated he felt, how trapped he felt. Tapped by his own family. He had the stupid hope that maybe Dean would loosen his grip around him but it never happened; Dean's grip still stayed, firm and unyielding.

"Sam. I need you to calm down, buddy, alright? You need to understand…"

Sam couldn't keep his anger in anymore. He didn't want to damn well UNDERSTAND! What he wanted was to go back to the car and pretend that he never left it; pretend he never came in here and found out about their secret.

"Understand? What is it that you want me to understand, Dad?" Sam's voice was a whisper, but it grew louder and louder until he was shouting. "What? You want me to understand that you just allowed your 12 year old son to murder someone? You want me to understand that you stood there and praised him for it? What, Dad? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO UNDERSTAND? DEAN, LET GO OF ME!" By the end of Sam's rant, he was back to struggling almost violently against Dean. No, he didn't want to understand any of that! He couldn't understand it. If he did that would mean he was just as screwed up as his family.

"Sam, I get that your scared, kiddo." His Dad's voice rose slightly to be heard over the struggling and Sam's cries but it was still steady and calm. "But if you calm down, then we can explain everything to you, ok?"

"I don't want you to explain it." Sam sobbed. His voice was small, no longer holding any anger in it. He just wanted this night to end.


Dean's voice interrupted them and John tilted his head to the left to see Dean better. John was a little proud that Dean was able to restrain Sam the way he was doing; his oldest was strong and getting stronger by the week.

Sam continued to weakly struggle, his body felt heavier as his energy drained out. He heard Dean call for their Dad, and what Dean said next sparked panic back inside him.

"Use the Chloroform."

Sam froze for a beat of a second, before renewing his struggles like his life depended on it, and from what he was hearing; it just might. Sam's watched enough action movies to know what Chloroform is used for and what it does. He couldn't allow them to knock him out; not now, he had to get away. Tears flowed continually down his face. Everything was wrong. He was being pinned down by his brother, his Dad was allowing it, there was a dead girl not far away from them, his brother was talking about drugging him and for the first time ever, he wanted nothing more than to get away from them.

How could this one night—a night like any other—destroy his entire life?


Dean could see John's hesitation but, as much as he didn't like it himself, he knew they had to use it on Sammy. His brother would never calm down tonight and they needed to get away from the crime scene before day-time came.

"Dad, I don't like it either." Dean said, Sam's struggles not bothering him. His brother was only 8 and Dean had been working out every day since he was 7. His voice was steady as he continued to pin Sam against him. "But what other choice do we have? Sam won't calm down tonight; and he certainly won't calm down while that bitch is a few feet away from us." Dean tilted his head back towards the stall, indicating the woman. "And we need to get outta here before the sun comes up."

Sam was a complete and utter mess. He couldn't believe what he was hearing! Was his brother insane?! Scratch that…let him rephrase; his brother was insane! They had no right to do this. He's never gonna forgive them for this, and that knowledge breaks him a little more.

Sam's vision was hazy from the tears that wouldn't stop, but he saw his Dad nod his head at Dean. It shocked him enough to stop him from moving until he saw his Dad stand up and walk towards a duffel-bag not far from them. Sam watched as his Dad got the bottle and a cloth out and walked back towards him, he saw the look of sadness and some regret on his Dad's face before his Dad was once again kneeling infront of them.

"I'm sorry, Sam." John said as he tipped the bottle and dosed the cloth.

Sam shook his head wilding, not believing that this was happening. "No." His voice shook. "No, Dad, please don't. Please." He pressed his head into Dean's shoulder as he continued to cry and beg his Dad to listen to him.

He felt Dean cuddle closer to him; knew Dean was trying to comfort him but it didn't work, not when he knew that Dean was allowing this, that this was Dean's idea. He heard Dean whisper to him but didn't look away from his Dad.

"It's alright, Sammy." Dean soothed. "It's just for tonight, kiddo. It'll be fine. When you wake up, we'll be back at the motel and me and Dad will explain everything, okay? It's alright, don't be scared."

Sam couldn't contain the hollow laugh that escaped him. Don't be scared? Was his brother kidding? He was more than scared; he was terrified. He felt Dean's right arm encircle him more as Dean's right hand grabbed his arm so Dean's other arm could come up and hold his head still.

"I'm sorry, Sam." His Dad said again as he pressed the cloth against Sam's mouth and nose.

Sam couldn't struggle much with Dean holding his head still. He tried his best not to breathe in but he couldn't help it. He started feeling dizzy, like there was a thin veil over his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. His movements became slow and he felt his body start to shut down without his permission.

His last thought before he passed out was; 'How could they do this?'

Well, what do u think. If u have any questions put it in a review or carryin on readin :P lol xxx