Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N:

Beginning:
Dean: aged 14
Sam: aged 10

First Supernatural fanfic, so please be nice :-)
Mistakes are all mine ):
Love reviews and feedback! So please, if you think it's even mildly good, or even terrible please tell me!

And of course;
Enjoy!

-Lexii xo

Chapter One- One Mistake

"Dean."

"Yes sir."

"Remember…"

"Salt lines on the doors and windows; close the shades; don't pick up the phone unless they ring once and call back, because then it's you; lock all the doors and windows; and if something tries to bust in, shoot first ask questions later."

John smiled and gently ruffled his eldest son's hair before reaching down and retrieving the large, faded grey duffle bag from the worn out carpet of the motel floor. Heaving it over his shoulder, he made his way towards the wooden door, before turning around and facing his eldest son once more.

"And most importantly?"

"Watch out for Sammy." Dean recited, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know Dad okay? We've been over this like a million times. I'm not stupid."

"I know Dean. But this is important. It only takes one mistake, just one mistake, that could mean the difference between life and death."

-x-

The heat was intolerable.

It seemed that the stale and bitter motel room had no source of ventilation to allow any fresh air into the small room. For hours Dean had attempted to fix the small box considered to be an air-conditioner with no prevail, evidentially finally resulting into folding numerous pieces of paper that had been scattered over the motel floor together to create small handheld fans for both he and Sam.

Not exactly the most ideal method for cooling off; okay, it sucked; but desperate times called for desperate measures, and with years of experience on the road travelling from state to state, school to school, crappy motel room to an even crappier motel room, both Winchester children had learnt to methodically adapt and be grateful for whatever resource they had fortunately been given; no matter how small or impractical they may seem to be.

Dean laid with his hand folded under his head and pillow, his eyes closed in a pathetic attempt into trying to trick his body into somehow falling asleep.

They had hoped that the high temperatures and dense air would have ceased by nightfall, but the doomed Winchester luck had seemed to have failed them once more.
Both their bodies were coated in a thick layer of sweat, the excess moisture on their skin making them even more sluggish and heavy, practically draining the motivation to simply move from their bodies. At times their lungs struggled to allow the vital oxygen to seep into them, the air simply too thick and humid to correctly enter their system, that plus the foul tasting undrinkable water that flowed out of the taps gave the hotel bonus points into landing number 23 on Dean's personal 'Hotels that even the Devil would hate' list.

Dean sighed deeply as another hot wave rushed over his body, the thin grey t-shirt beginning to cling loosely to his chest from the excess moisture coating his skin. Refusing to open his eyes he scowled slightly in disgust and annoyance at both the intolerable temperature and his body's refusal to sleep, his mind searching for some distraction to the sweltering heat, and it was only then when Dean noticed the unsettling silence.

He usually craved silence, savoured silence. Silence usually meant he could finally ease the hunter's anxiety from propelling dramatically in the unconscious search for any supernatural beings. But tonight, tonight was different. This silence, if it was even possible, was too silent. They were staying at a hotel located next to the wide woodland area, just on the outskirts of town, but as much as he strained his ears he couldn't indicate any sign of life outside these four walls, no aimless chatter amongst humans, no screeches of animal life; nothing.

Mindlessly he stroked the serrated edge of his silver hunting knife he held under his pillow; a method he would use regularly to ease the sickening mixture of dread and anxiety that churned deep in the pit his stomach, the touch of the equally smooth, yet deadly metal reminding him that he had some way of not only protecting himself, but also Sammy from any sort of threat; human or supernatural.

His heart rate rose as the sound of shuffling entered his ears, the creaking of the floorboard beneath the rotted carpet sending his instincts into overdrive. He moved his hand slowly and gripped the handle of his knife tightly, breathing deeply in an attempt to settle his fastening breaths as he felt whoever, or whatever was in the room move closer to him.

He pulled the knife furtherer out from under the flat pillow, anticipating when to strike and attack the unknown figure as the floorboard right beside his bed creaked a deathly echo into the small room.

"Dean?" A hushed whisper called, instantly loosening the ridged and tense muscles that had tightened Dean's body just seconds before.

Sam.

Beneath his closed lids, Dean rolled his eyes harshly and slowly retreated the hunting knife back under his pillow, the numbing relief that it was only Sam fading into pure annoyance at the fact that it was only Sam.

"Dean?" Sam repeated quietly, moving slightly closer to his elder brother's apparent sleeping figure scrawled across the bed, "I know you're awake."

Silence.

"Deannnnnnn." The ten year old whined once more as he strained to pull Dean's bicep away from under his head in an attempt to capture his stubborn elder brother's attention.

"What is it Sammy?" Dean sighed in defeat, the annoyance towards his younger brother deteriorating as he heard the somewhat desperation in his younger brother's tone. He knew what was wrong. It didn't take a freaking genius to know that the heat was starting to take its toll.

"Can you please open a window or something Dean?"

Dean sighed once more as his father's rules drifted into his mind momentarily. "Sammy, you know I have to keep all the doors and windows locked and secure. Those are the rules." He responded, still refusing to open his eyes as the temptation to open a window and allow the cool air to enter the room burned fiercer inside of him.

"Please Dean…"

"I can't Sam!" Dean snapped bitterly, instantly regretting as he felt Sam's hand flinch away from his bicep.

"I can't breathe properly Dean…" Sammy admitted quietly, his tone not as desperate as before, it was almost as if he was scared.

Immediately Dean turned his head towards his little brother and opened his eyes for the first time, finally able to observe Sam's appearance. His breath got caught in his throat as he observed his ten year old brother's darkened eyes darting uncontrollably around the room, trying to focus solely on Dean himself, his too-long bangs drafted firmly to his forehead in a slick layer of sweat that was not only visible on his face and neck, but also his bare chest, highlighting the erratic movement of Sam's chest as his lungs obviously struggled to allow the vital oxygen to enter his system.

Within milliseconds of processing his brother's appearance Dean shot up from his bed and gripped his younger brother's shoulders, inwardly cringing at the heightening heat that radiated off his bare skin.

"Sammy, why don't you go have a nice, cold shower. It'll help." Forcing himself to smile confidently, hoping to ease the worried glance on the youngster's face.

"'Kay." Sam replied simply, returning the smile Dean had given to drift briefly over his face as he turned to enter the moderately acceptable bathroom. As he turned, it seemed that his brain had turned in his skull also, causing his body to unconsciously sway.

"Woah, woah, woah, I got ya Sammy." Dean said as he hooked his arm around the ten year old's waist, allowing Sam to fall against his body. "C'mon, Sammy." He said, giving Sam a reassuring squeeze against him as he led Sam to the wooden door, allowing himself to travel at Sam's own pace.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said softly, as he recoiled from Dean's body, immediately gripping firmly onto the chipped door frame.

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam shook off with little to no conviction as he shuffled through the doorframe.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, stepping forward, his tone indicating 'You better tell me the freaking truth or I swear to God…'

"I'll be fine Dean! Go!" Sam insisted, attempting to push Dean back through the doorframe, but with his weakened limbs it had little effect.

"Jeez, okay princess!" Dean scoffed teasingly after he allowed himself to be pushed out of the doorframe as if Sam had possessed enough strength to do so and had the door shut in his face.

"Jerk!" called Sam's faded voice through the wooden door.

"Bitch!"

-x-

Dean sat there staring into the nothingness as time slowly ticked by, the only sound that could be heard was the soft pattering of the falling water from the bathroom, the sound harmonising and soothing, almost making Dean fall into the deep abyss of sleep.

He rubbed his eyes harshly as they began to burn from the struggle of trying to keep them open, the motivation and determination to stay awake until Sammy was safe and sound in his bed starting to throb and fade into the back of his mind. As he felt his eyelids etch closer together he and his head fall, he snapped his head back up, shaking it fiercely as he tried to rid the fatigue that had overtaken his body.

Unable to fight against the rising temperature and thick humidity anymore, Dean finally called defeat and made his way to the only window in the small room and attempted to open it, careful not to damage or destroy the carefully placed salt lines that rested on the wooden sill.

Dean sighed in frustration as the rusted window refused to budge an inch, his frustrations rising after each second that passed by.

"You stupid piece of-"

"Are you seriously about to go off at a window?" Sam teased as he exited the bathroom dressed in a thin shirt and boxer shorts. His voice caught Dean unexpectedly, causing his body to jolt suddenly, his hip harshly colliding with the window sill with such force the glass rattled.

"Son of a bitch." He hissed through his clenched teeth, responding to the amused expression on the youngster's face with one of his ultimate death glares. "Feelin' better?" He asked, overlooking the searing pain as he redirected his attention to his younger brother.

"Yeah." Sam smiled slightly "Can breathe properly and that now."

"Good." Dean responded, genuinely relieved, feeling as if a weight had literally been lifted off his chest. "Now get your ass to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam wove off with his hands as he made his way to the allocated bed, Dean following to his own, focusing on anything to distract himself from the throbbing pain from his hip.

Both Sam and Dean crawled into their bed, kicking the covers to the side simultaneously. "Night Sammy." Dean said as he turned off the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

"Night Dean; and thanks."

"Whatever man, no chick flick moments."

The darkness that once captivated them was momentarily destroyed as all the lights that inhabited the room flickered on and off repeatedly, the light white and blinding as it incorporated the small space. Dean sat up wearily, his instincts alive and alert as the lights continued to flash on and off, and deep down in the pit of his stomach he knew something was terribly wrong.

"Dean?" Sam's shaky small voice called out, his eyes wide and fearful as he stared at his older brother; wishing, hoping for some kind of reassurance.

From outside they could hear the ferocious battling of the wind harshly picking up, whipping sticks and leaves through the night sky. "It'll be okay Samm-"

Dean was cut off as the window that had remained rusted shut just moments before burst open, glass shards flying around the room, Sam's panicked scream sending Dean into immediate hunter mode, his head jerking from the glassless window frame to his wide eyed younger brother, his father's words echoing in his mind; 'Watch out for Sammy…'

"Sam! Hide! Now!" Dean ordered urgently, ripping his knife out from under his pillow and walking over to the bare window as Sam scrambled off the hard, lumpy mattress.

"Where Dean?!" Sam desperately cried, throwing his head around frantically, his eyes casing for somewhere to hide.

"Bed! Sammy go!" Dean screamed as he saw the shadowy figure walking triumphantly towards the open window.

Sam dived under the bed, struggling to manoeuvre his way under the low frame. He clenched his jaw shut to stop the gasp of pain that almost escaped his mouth as his shoulder collided with the thick wooden beams, instead he ignored the pain and crawled closer to the darkened corner against the wall.

Dean breathed heavily as he moved against the bare wall beside the window, the peeling wallpaper falling away the moment his body made contact. He readjusted his grip tightly on the handle of his knife and grasped with such force his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. He kept his breath steady as relief washed over him after he scanned under the bed and realised that it was near impossible to see Sam unless you physically lowered yourself to the ground.

He crouched downwards, his eyes immediately catching Sam's fearful gaze, his brown orbs wide and strained, silently seeking reassurance and any sign of hope to ease his fears.

"It'll be okay Sammy." Dean soothed, forcing himself to smile for Sam's sake, not entirely believing the words escaping his own mouth. His smile faded as fast as it appeared, a stern mask of determination now taking its place. "No matter what happens, no matter what he might do to me, never tell him or make any sign that you're here okay Sammy? I don't want you to make a run for it or do anything stupid unless I tell you too okay? You remember the secret word for run don't you Sammy?"

"I remember." Sam stated numbly, his hair standing on end at the haunting possibilities his mind was forming at Dean's words.

"Promise me, Sammy." Dean pleaded, the fear for not only his own life, but for Sam's present in his eyes as he glanced upwards to the open window in panic as the sound of footsteps become more obvious. "I need you too promise me." His face etched with more fear and desperation Sam had ever seen.

Sam felt his throat constrict and tears well in his eyes as he allowed his head to gently rise and fall, piercing his heart at the knowledge he had just signified that he supported Dean's possible death wish.

Dean forced himself to give a sad, almost apologetic smile to his younger brother, hoping that it somehow managed to come across as some kind of reassuring gesture before standing back up and resting his back firmly against the rotted wall.

Breathing deeply, he forced the emotionless, hunter's mask to fall across his face as he turned and faced the open wall. His knife held firmly before him.

"Who are you?!" he demanded to the stranger, his stance tall and intimidating.

The moonlight illuminated the haunting amused smirk that resided on the stranger's face, his stance proud and conceited as he took another tormenting step towards the open window.

"Stay away!" Dean gruffly said, thrusting his knife into the bare air to present some sign of threat.

The laugh the stranger released was so dark and thunderous it physically chilled Dean to the core. Dean's face darkened and he took another threatening step forward. "I said-"

Dean was promptly cut off as the stranger raised his hand and swiftly swiped it to the side in mid-air, sending the breath from his lungs to be physically forced out of him and the floor beneath him give way as he found himself hurtling into the opposing wall, the plaster breaking around his body from the invisible force.

Dean's body fell limply to the ground in a heap, the ever-too familiar taste of copper that invaded his mouth was the last thing he could distinguish before he felt himself fall into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.

-x-

A punch here, a kick there, repeated over and over countless times that Dean had actually lost count on how many times his body had been struck.

He could feel the blood seep from his wounds, feel the throbbing and the bruises literally forming on his skin. His vision blurred with each piece of skin that was ripped apart from the sharp silver, sometimes quickly and swiftly, other times slowly and torturously.

The thick rope dug into his bare wrists as he struggled against his bonds, sending a never-ending wave of pain shooting up his arms from the red and raw flesh that had been scoured away from his feasible attempts to loosen them.

"Where is he?" the shadowy figure hissed into his ear, the vibration from his tongue causing the hair on the back of Dean's neck to stand straight up.

"I already told you jackass, he's gone. I made him run." He replied bitterly, trying to control the stability in his voice as he lied through his clenched teeth.

"Liar!" the stranger screamed, connecting his clenched fist to the bound teenager before him, the same metallic taste immediately dissolving onto his tongue once more. Dean slowly readjusted his aching jaw and spat towards the stranger, the crimson tainted saliva landing swiftly on the stranger's face, immediately contrasting the paleness of his skin.

Dean's smug grin immediately faded as the stranger's brown eyes flickered into non-existence and transformed into pure darkness.

'It can't be. No. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.' Dean silently swore, keeping his face frozen into the strong and emotionless mask, not reflecting the pain and sudden hit of panic that shot through him at the realisation that up until five seconds ago he didn't even know demons existed, let alone how to kill one.

Slowly and methodically the demon wiped away the tainted crimson from his skin, smirking amusingly. "Why, don't we have a feisty one." He teased viciously as he trailed slowly around the room.

"Demon huh?" Dean commented slyly, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, you better believe it boy." The demon gleamed, twirling the razor sharp silver knife between his two thumbs. "You know I've been following you since Illinois?" the demon smirked, slowly circling around the small room. "Breaking the salt line Dean? Tsk tsk. I've been waiting for so long for you to make one stupid mistake."

Dean felt his muscles tighten and panic shooting through him like a bullet as the stranger neared closer to the furthest sunken motel bed, concealing the frightened ten year old hidden underneath it.

"Oh look at you, big and mighty demon unable to get inside because of a stupid line of salt." Dean tormented, hoping to get the demon's attention back on himself; no matter what the consequences may be.

The black, soulless eyes snapped back to the bound teenager and glared in anger. "What happened tonight Dean? You were always so careful, so precise with these petty attempts from keeping us away…from getting what we want."

"You're never getting Sam you son of a bitch!" Dean sneered violently, the anger pulsating through his veins and spitting off his tongue like pure venom.

"We shall see about that." The demon quickly sneered as he moved closer to Dean, rotating the silver blade back and forth infront of the teenager's darkened emerald eyes. "Let's play a game shall we Sammy?" he called out loudly in the small room, smiling sinisterly at the death glare given off by the bound and helpless teenager. "If you don't come out Sammy within the next three seconds, I'm going to plunge this knife into your big brave brother…right here." The demon smirked, pausing shortly as he hovered the silver blade just above Dean's lower abdomen.

"One."

Dean forced his breath to remain steady as he stared into those two soulless eyes, his throat suddenly restricting and running dry.

"Two."

Dean felt his nerves tense in anticipation as the demon smiled in pure pleasure, his face deformed into a sinister yet gleeful glare, literally feeling the image physically burning into his mind.

"No? Fine. Three…" The demon shrugged, his tone not a mixture of disappointment or regret, but with a childlike happiness before he plunged the sliver blade deep into Dean's lower abdomen.

Instinctively Dean coiled over at the flaring pain ignited in his lower abdomen, feeling the warm crimson liquid spilling out of him. A small grunt of pain escaped thorough his clenched lips as the demon ripped the bloodied silver out of the gaping wound without remorse, the pain surging throughout his body excelling and numbing his senses. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, not in an attempt to ease or tolerate this blistering pain surging viciously through him, but silently praying to the God he wasn't sure he believed in that Sammy would stay safe and hidden, far away from the demon's grasp.

"And no Dean, that's not going to kill you. Not just yet anyway, I have so much more in store for you." He stated, landing another clenched fist to the side of the bound teenager's face, making Dean's head whip harshly to the side from the unnatural force of the punch. "Time for round two!"

Dean faintly registered the firm gasp on his hand when his vision began to focus once more. He lifted his head upwards, his neck drastically protesting at the jolt of pain that spiralled all the way down to his spine. "You know Sammy, you can stop this. Come with me and I'll let your brother live. If not…Well, I'm going to cut off each one of his fingers one by one, straight through the bone,"

The fabric of his grey t-shirt was now saturated in the dark red crimson that was bleeding out in a steady stream, the warm liquid trailing downwards, staining the wooden chair and cheap laminated flooring. Admitting a silent defeat and acceptance into what the demon was planning to do, Dean hung his chin against his chest, attempting to mentally prepare himself for the pain he knew he was about to endure.

The serrated edge of the knife easily ripped away the flesh of his ring finger, the blood pooling around the blade and dripping down all the way down to his fingernail. The demon smiled as he watched the young teenager squirm and struggle to hold in the pain inflicted scream that was dying to get out. He knew once the boy infront of him broke and the scream would be unleashed, it wouldn't be long until Sam would be his.

Dean locked his jaw and clenched his teeth together with such force they began to ache, as he continued to try and withhold the scream that he was so desperate to release as the demon continued to ruthlessly dig the blade deeper and deeper into his flesh, rocking the serrated edge back and forth against his now visible bone.

It was only when he felt the bone break the pain became too much to bare.

Sam held down the bile in his throat as he watched the blood seep out of his older brother and drip onto the floor. His mind was screaming at him to do something; anything; to help Dean; but he promised.

It took all his strength not to get up and reveal himself the moment he saw Dean fly across the room and collapse into a heap on the floor like a broken rag doll. It took all he had not to get up and attack the monster that was tying up his big brother just a few metres away. It took all he had to control his body and his motivation to stay there, but with every punch, kick and cut that was made on his brother's body he felt that force and motivation to stay in that location slowly chip away and transform into motivation to go and help his brother.

Right now he hated promises.

He almost didn't believe the monster Dean called a 'demon' when he said he would actually stab Dean, he thought he was bluffing; he hoped he was bluffing. But the moment he saw the knife disappear into Dean he decided that no promise was worth getting Dean that hurt, and he attempted to escape from under the bed like the cowering animal he was, the only reason he didn't was due to the fact he had hit his head on the giant wooden beams above him, his gasp masked by Dean's hiss of pain.

But the moment that scream escaped Dean's mouth, he couldn't. He just couldn't watch his brother, the only one who was always there for him and taught him everything he knew to give up own life for Sam.

He knew he wasn't worth that, that he couldn't ask for that.

He knew Dean had already given up so much of his life for him, trying to give Sam the childhood Dean never got to experience, and Sam wasn't just about to allow Dean to sacrifice anything else for him.

"Stop!" Sam screamed, clumsily scrambling out from under the low frame. "Stop hurting him! I'm here! Let him go! Stop!"

The demon pulled away from the knife still embedded in Dean's flesh and turned towards the small boy, smiling in a sinister victory.

"Sammy….no….run….please…." Dean begged through his hollow breaths, barely able to speak from the overriding pain and panting of his chest.

"Well, well, well. Finally! The infamous Samuel Winchester! We've been waiting for you Sam."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face as the sentence rolled off the demons tongue in vicious overdramatic tone. He clenched his fists tightly closed on either side of his small body, attempting to calm himself and be as brave as Dean was, struggling to understand why it was so hard for him to do when Dean did it so effortlessly.

"Let Dean go." Sam ordered as fiercely as he could, failing to mask the quiver and fear that laced his tone.

"And you will come freely with me?" The demon asked, eyebrow cocked in amusement at the loyalty and determination shared between the two brothers.

Sam's fearful eyes glanced quickly to Dean, absorbing quickly the amount of blood he was coated in and the struggle he was fighting to simply keep his head up.

"Yes."

The demon smiled even wider, before he pulled the silver blade free from Dean's bloodied and deformed finger and opening his arm outwards to usher the boy to come to his side.

Sam swallowed hard at the demon before him, the simple gesture causing the tears to brutally well in his eyes. Hesitantly he strode over to the demon's open arm, forcing the barricade not to break with each step, physically feeling an invisible weight on his chest grow as he neared the smiling monster.

"No! Don't you dare touch him you son of a bitch! Sammy! Don't do this!" Dean gruffly shouted, a sudden burst of adrenaline overtaking him, giving himself the much needed motivation to continue to fight a protect his brother.

"Sorry Dean." The demon smiled as he harshly grabbed Sam's bicep, dragging the small child closer to himself. Instantly Sam whimpered a small grunt of pain from the bruising touch and tried to pull away, trying to get back towards his brother.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, writhing against his bonds once more.

Sam felt the invisible barrier give way as tears streaked down his cheeks. Small sobs escaped from his mouth as he tried to pry the demon's hand away from his skin, clawing at the hand that easily grasped right around his forearm.

"Dean!" he desperately called, twisting his whole body to try and escape the demon's grasp.

"Please!" Dean called once more, his voice breaking as he continued to fight against the bloodied rope that tethered him to the chair. Stray tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the dry and wet blood that coated his face, burning the multiple cuts clawed around his face. "Don't take him! I swear to God, I will hunt you down you son of a bitch, and I will kill you!" he sneered, aiming another stream of crimson tainted saliva towards the demon.

"I think that's enough of you!" The demon hissed violently, once more connecting his free fist with the side of Dean's head, the impact instantly making Dean's body limp and unresponsive.

"No!" Sam screamed, thrashing and twisting his body once more as he tried to fight his way back towards his brother.

The demon pulled the thrashing boy closer to him and gripped the boy around the waist and shoulder blades, limiting Sam's movement as he dragged the youngster towards the motel room and away from his brother.

"Dean! Please! No! Dean!"

-x-

He leapt upwards, his body cased in a cold sweat and body tangled in the thin sheets that wrapped themselves around him, the scream echoing over and over again in his mind, haunting him, tormenting him, as it did everytime he allowed himself to fall into the abyss of sleep.

He cupped his face with his hands and harshly wiped downwards, relieving himself from the unwanted sweat and tears that always seemed to have cascaded down his face in his torturous sleep. He breathed deeply, trying to ease the erratic inflating and deflating of his chest from the thick and jagged breath that panted out of his open mouth.

Cursing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking off the tangled sheets until they fell into a heap on the cold, wooden floor. Resting his chin against his chest, he breathed in deeply once more, trying to make his entire body regain its composure and go back to normal.

The heat that radiated from him was extinguished momentarily as a cold gust of wind escaped through the narrow opening of yet another broken window in yet another cheap and sleazy hotel room; a sight he had grown accustom to over the years.

"Six years. Six fucking years." He growled, his tone a mixture of hurt, and anger and pain as the memory of how long it had actually been settled into his mind.

He sat there, slowly trailing through and sorting the thousands of memories, images and sequences that trespassed his mind, accelerating so fast the images were blurred, yet he could still remember them perfectly as the flashed across his mind.

He had been told he was lucky. Lucky he had survived against this "sadistic monster", as the police had dubbed it.

Yeah, monster.

Maybe cops weren't that dumb.

He had been told he was lucky, considering he was apparently only minutes away from death if his father and Bobby hadn't had come when they did. Lucky that he survived and still had the chance to continue living his life. Lucky.

Yeah right.

He sure as hell didn't feel lucky considering one stupid mistake cost him the most important thing in the world.

Where was Sam's luck?

He would have given anything to trade places with Sam, anything.

Even if that meant he would be in a wooden box six feet under.

"Shoot first, ask questions later…"

How could he have been so stupid?!

He repeated those lines just hours earlier yet when it came down to it Dean the exact opposite. For years he had lived by those words. Memorising them, repeating them, day after day, it was basically his way of life. But it just flew out of his mind within a second. And that one second cost him Sam.

Six years that and the evidence from that night were still present on his body. Countless scars trailed his body, forever scarring him and reminding him of that night at every glance, the knowledge that he even had them haunting him every moment of every night. The two most noticeable scars were the thick scar that now had permanent residence on his lower abdomen, the second, a jagged scar hidden under the metallic band of the finger he still wasn't fully able to use.

He was just grateful that he didn't need that finger to fire a gun.

But the bruises and scares could not compare to the pain, guilt and emptiness that gnawed at his heart as each day had slowly passed, another day without Sammy, another day without being a step closer to finding out just where his little brother had been for the past six years.

He didn't know how long he sat there, how many minutes or seconds passed by. He was numb and vacant from the revolving world outside the sleazy hotel room. He loathed the happiness and oblivion people shared. He loathed the fact they were hidden from the terrifying truth of what creatures were really out there, what sick, evil, twisted creatures were hidden in plain view, some with the craving for normality, others for the lust of blood. And sometimes he loathed the fact he wasn't one of them, that he knew the true horrors behind all those supernatural.

Maybe if he didn't Sam would still be with him now.

Sometimes he wished he never had to experience and witness the shock horror of the terrifying reality and scenarios that still made his skin crawl. But he knew; he knew it was his duty, his obligation to fight against these forces, these creatures, these monsters.

If he didn't do it, who would?

His dwelling thoughts were thankfully interrupted as the loud, irritating ringtone blared through the small room. Sighing he trudged over to the leather jacket that was slung over the old, dirty chair and dug through the pockets until he picked up the screaming phone.

"Dean?"

"Hey Bobby." He sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, and ruffling his short, dirty blonde hair with his free hand, trying to stop the fatigue that washed over him once more.

"Didn't wake ya did I?"

"Nah Bobby. What's up? Another case?"

"Yeah, one up in Phoenix, Arizona. A few cases of unexplained murders, but it sounds like we're dealing with demons. You interested?"

"Demons? I'll be there in a few hours." Dean said without a moment's hesitation. "See ya Bobby." He rushed, already moving the device away from his ear.

"Dean wait!"

Dean forced himself not to let out a grunt of frustration as he raised the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah Bobby?"

"Dean, I just wanted to say…"

"Oh great. Here it comes." Dean murmured silently and bitterly in frustration. He was not in the mood to hear this.

"I know what today is boy, and I just wanted to say I know how hard it was for you when you lost Sam-"

As soon as the words escaped Bobby's mouth, Dean felt the fires burn in turmoil deep inside his chest. Anger and disgrace for his actions washed over him as the painful memories flashed before eyes, the vibrant green in his eyes darkening while the golden flecks became more vibrant as the anger burned through him.

"No Bobby. I didn't lose Sam! He was taken! He was dragged away kicking and screaming while I did nothing!"

"Dean! I didn't mean it like that you idjit! He bet you to a pulp, he freaking tied you up, stabbed you and damn well nearly cut your finger off! Boy you're lucky you even survived! What more could you have done?!"

"I could have saved him." was the final thing Bobby heard before the ever-too familiar sound of the dial tone drifted into his ear.

Dean threw his phone against the plastered wall in anger, before sinking slowly to the floor.

Yeah, he was so lucky.