Brother

t h r e e

Sam continued to read his father's scribbled handwriting in disbelief.  A nagging voice appeared in the back of his head with his brother's tone. Sammy, don't you dare think about doing this one on your own.  Demons are big.  Two person job at least.  Call me and get your ass back to the motel. Sam smirked humorlessly and cracked his knuckles. "Well, maybe if you gave me more than the occasional vampire, I wouldn't have to prove myself to you." He said aloud. He looked down the street to the house that was marked on the map and pressed his lips together grimly.
I'll gank this son of a Bitch myself.

Grabbing a second gun from his bag, a sawed-off double barrel shotgun, and a box of salt rounds which he pushed into a small backpack, he pushed down a sense of fear. "Come on, Winchester. We've fought worse." He muttered darkly as he shoved his pocket knife into his boot. He glanced around to make sure nobody had been watching him, and began to walk down the back road. There were only three houses here, one of which was an abandoned wreck, and the other appeared to have been boarded up recently. A light was on in the third house, it's flickering just barely visible in the afternoon sun, and Sam crept around the back of the building. He glanced down at his EMF detector,  but the needle was pivoting violently and all of the small machine's lights were blinking rapidly. "Stupid piece of crap." he fumed, putting it back into his backpack. 

Suddenly, a girl ran around the corner of the house and ran right into Sam at full speed. Breath knocked out of him, he raised his shotgun, but she cowered,  and put her hands up defensively.  "Please," she whispered urgently,  "you need to leave. They'll find you!" Tears streamed down the girl's dirt-caked face, leaving track. Sam lowered his gun, but kept his knife at the ready, and examined her carefully. She looked to be about his own age, sixteen or seventeen, and her slightly tangled blonde hair framed her pale face as she looked at Sam with dark blue, pleading eyes. She was flinching away from him, one hand on her lips and the other clutching her stomach, as if she were injured. There were cuts and bruises covering her bare arms, and rope marks were visible on her wrists. "You need to leave right now," she repeated. "You can't be here." A loud crash sounded from inside the house, and the girl's eyes filled with pure terror. She jumped when Sam's hand touched her shoulder. "Who are 'they', and why have they been torturing you?" he asked. She pressed her hand to her mouth again and shook her head, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes. Sam set his jaw and grabbed her arm gently, but firmly. "I'm really sorry, but we don't have time for this right now. This may sound insane, but are there Demons in that house?" he asked her, silently berating himself for his lack of control and patience. Her eyes widened, and Sam was sure he had made himself sound crazy beyond all trusting, until she lowered her hand from her mouth and whispered shakily. "How did you know?"

Sam bit his lip briefly, unsure of how to proceed. "My name is Sam-" he hesitated, and decided to throw caution to the wind. "Sam Winchester, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I hunt the assholes in there."

Her eyes widened at his name, and she gasped. "Winchester." she spat.

Sam opened his mouth to ask why she was suddenly angry, when she interrupted him bitterly.

"Your father is the reason I'm here."