A/N: Part 3 – Here we are. It's time for the big show. Will Krissy find her resolution and will it be enough? The boys will do whatever they have to do to bring her back from the edge. Careful, dark stuff in here…. Please use caution…I own nothing Supernatural.

Chapter 1:

It had been six weeks since Krissy's "wake up call" from Sam, and she was sticking to the daily schedule and following the rules. She promised herself that she would never again be on the receiving end of a Sam Winchester "attitude adjustment." No fucking way. It had taken three days for her to be able to sleep on her back. Sam helped her, showing her ways to be more comfortable, but he never acted as though he shouldn't have done it. She had a grudging respect for that. On one hand, her ass hurt like hell, but on the other, well, she knew she had earned it. He didn't talk about it or hold it over her head, and for that she was grateful. She loved Sam, but now she respected him and his words, and that was a whole different level of love.

Although she had been mortified by the experience, the truth was it brought out a new perspective in her. She was able to see herself and her past behaviors in a new way, and she was ashamed. She made up her mind to use that "wake up call" as motivation to propel herself forward.

As for Sam, he was more than relieved. He wasn't sure how she would react to him – although he firmly believed Gus needed that spanking, he worried that their relationship would be irreparably damaged by what he had done. Having someone to watch over and protect was a full time job to him and he loved having Pixie being his "one." After all the years of Dean "big brothering" him, it was good to have someone to watch over. Still, all of this was still relatively new to him; he was winging it half the time, using what he instinctively knew about her and blending it with the common sense God gave him. All he wanted was to take care of her and make sure she was safe.

But all that worry was for nothing. To the contrary, he immediately noticed a change in her behavior and her demeanor. She was mindful of her foul, smart mouth, and when a warning was given – she did whatever the consequences were without a fuss. She would start a tantrum, and then she would end it just as quickly, murmuring an apology to both of them. It was impressive. She had thrown herself into the schedule he and Dean had created for her with passion and strength. Most importantly, she was improving at the therapy sessions. She had become less clingy toward Sam, although always next to him, she spoke louder and stronger. She held more conviction in the words she spoke. He was so proud of her. Their relationship had improved profoundly over the past six weeks. He learned that Gus responded well when given boundaries. He took note.

Sam was guardedly optimistic, but then the screaming started, echoing down the hall and bouncing off the walls around him. She was with Dean in the workout area, training and exercising to re-build her core. Sam grabbed his gun and took off down the hall full-force.

20 Minutes Earlier, Workout With Dean:

Dean looked at Krissy. She was drenched in sweat and chugging her water. He was impressed at her new attitude. She brought it all into her sessions and pushed herself to her limits. Her attitude and vigor reminded him of the old Krissy. She was amazing.

"Okay, kid, let's go. On the mat, now," he ordered. "Almost done."

Krissy wiped the sweat from her face and looked at the clock. Fifteen to go. She had this bitch in the can.

Dean squared off with her, intent on teaching her how to maneuver herself out of a hold using her leverage from below. Kissy steeled her eyes at him, and although she barely came up to his chest, he knew not to underestimate her. It was totally possible for her to take him down – hell, he wanted her to. He wanted to make sure she could get out of any hold that a man or monster would place on her.

She was fast. She quickly kicked him twice in the side before he could react. She brought her foot down behind him, sweeping him onto his ass. He rolled to the side and lifted her foot, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto her back, losing her breath. Dean hesitated for a split second before hearing her say "go go go." She began to roll away from him but he already had her pinned on the mat face down with his knee bent down her back.

Krissy tried to throw him off her by bringing her legs up and jabbing him in the kidneys from behind, but her legs were just too damn short. His knee was between her shoulder blades but he wasn't applying enough pressure to hurt her, although by no stretch of the imagination was it pleasant, either.

Dean leaned forward and whispered into her ear – "Come on! Get yourself out of this. Knock me off! Can you figure out how to do it 'cuz there's a way," he encouraged. Krissy continued to struggle against his knee jammed into her back, getting more pissed as every second passed. "Get OFF, Dean, off!" she yelled.

"You think a vamp is just gonna' let you go?" he retorted. "Listen and I'll tell you how to get out of this. Here's the trick, babygirl. You have to relax your body further into the mat…"

… Screams. Blood curdling, non-stop screams, shrieking and filling the workout room and rolling down the hall began when Dean spoke the words "relax your body". Krissy continued screaming as Dean jumped off her and tried to calm her hysterics. Ear-piercing screams were his answer, followed by more full-on, no breathing, and continued screaming. She hysterically scream-babbled as he tried to reach out and put his hand on her face. She skittered backward on her butt until she hit the corner of the room. Any attempt he made to approach her at this point were useless. Her hands were held defensively in front of her face. She wasn't there. She was somewhere else, seeing something else. She was far off in her own personal hell, living out something he couldn't protect her from. This was a nightmare. HER nightmare. He was about to yell for Sammy when he appeared in the doorway.

Present - Workout Room:

Sam stood in the doorway quickly scanning the room. Pix was in the corner losing her shit. She had checked the fuck out. Dean was standing apart from her, looking at him with a "wtf" look on his face. He also looked both furious and sick to his stomach. He looked back at Tink. Her screaming was being maintained at a level he had only ever heard in one other place – Hell. He stashed his gun as she continued to try to push herself further into the corner, as if wanting to disappear. She began to slam her head on the cement wall behind her.

He looked at his brother with sympathy. He blamed himself, in typical Dean style, for something he never could have known would happen. It was his default setting. He wanted him to feel useful, so he put him to work.

"Dude, go grab the med kid and meet me in the living room. I've got this," he said as he made his way across the room to Gus.

Dean's face turned all business. "I'll grab some towels for pressure on my way," he said over his shoulder, thrilled beyond belief to leave the banshee-level hysterics. As much as he loved his sister, this whole thing was Sammy's specialty. He had a natural ease with her. He was a little jealous of his ability to block out all the crazy around him and focus on the necessary. If only.

Sam had no idea how she was able to continue and maintain the sheer volume level of her screams. A memory flashed quickly back to him: "He wanted me to scream. He liked it when I screamed so eventually all I did was scream." So, Pixie had PTSD. She was in the middle of a huge flashback that was somehow triggered during her workout.

He strode over to her and reached, placing his hand behind her now-bloody head. He checked her eyes and saw blank orbs staring beyond him, staring somewhere back in time to a place that felt as real as the day it happened.

He spoke to her in a normal but soothing voice as he brought himself down onto the floor directly in front of her. "Gus – Gus, shhhh – it's me, it's Sam. You're here at home with Dean and me. Not happening. What you see is not happening. You're safe. Safe with us," he started. He turned his shoulder to get a good grip and palmed the back of her head to try to give it more protection. "Stop, Pix. Stop hitting your head, baby, you're hurting yourself. Come on… look at me. Look for me, I'm right here, okay?" he added. He slipped his left hand under her knees and used every muscle he had to pull them both up from a sitting position. "Jesus Christ she looks like a peanut but her muscle is heavy" he thought. Sam felt like he was old. Way older than he was when they first went to find her so many months ago because she hadn't checked in. "And thank God we DID, or who knows what would have happened to her on her own."

Gus continued screaming, her arms flailing until he reached above and pinned them under his biceps. Good. Arms contained. Check. Now he could hold the back of her head firmly against his shoulder. He continued his normal Sam-voice-of-soothing while he moved her down the hall. "Tink, whatever you're seeing is not there. Come on, come on, come on… come back here and talk to me," he urged. His hand was slick and sticky with her blood. He cursed himself silently for not preparing for the eventual flashbacks that came with PTSD. The randomness of it all. One minute you could be fine and the next… gone. He cradled her head as he began to speed up to get to the living room and his brother.

She was still trying to scream, but her voice was going hoarse. "Thank God for small favors" he thought. He shifted her body sideways across the front of his body so he could hold her legs to keep from kicking him. "And thank God for my freakishly long limbs, amen," he added in his mind.She was stronger physically, that was for sure. He could still manage her, but she could do some damage if not controlled. He sat her down on the couch with Dean by his side; concern sketched on both brothers faces. Dean handed Sam a towel and he held it firmly against the back of her still-bleeding head.

"Pixie – you're here with Dean and me. At home. The bunker. Nobody is hurting you. I won't let them. Do you hear me? Come ON now, Tink! Snap outta it! It's Sam," he said, frustration bringing his voice level up dramatically. "He is not here. You are. You are safe. It's okay," he added.

She tried to raise her head but he held it tightly, cloth staining bright red as he tried to break through to her.d

"Pixie. Talk to me."

Her voice was a croak against his flannel. "Sammy? Sam?..."

"Yeah, baby."

"What…huh…where, ummm…whyyyyy?" she barely whispered.

"Yeah, Gus, you're okay. Try not to talk, okay? I just wanted to know you were back with us. Nod if you are," he told her softly.

She nodded into him.

"You're safe. I promise you are. Nod if you know you are safe."

Again she nodded, struggling until he let her climb up on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He could feel her sobs rather than hear them, they shook her whole body. He held onto her tightly, bloody towel in one hand pressed to her head and his other arm wrapped across her body as her shoulders rose up and down. She made little squeaking noises, barely audible. Over and over. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no" over and over against Sam. He rocked her, murmuring "Shhhh – hush, Pix, you're safe" back to her.

Dean looked on, his anger slowly rising. He was going to find this sore excuse for a human and end him. They were close – very close – to finding his new location. Oh, he would make him pay for what he had done to her. His hands clenched and unclenched. "I need a drink," he muttered to himself.

Krissy was moaning, now more aware of her surroundings. "…never, never," she tried to say. Sam sighed.

"Wanna say something, Tinker? Wanna say something to us? You have to use your softest voice. Whisper. We will hear you, okay?" he bargained with her.

She looked at them, urgently whisper-speaking. "Never, never gonna end, will it guys? He's always here, inside my head. Crawling around and punching a hole in my ha-ha-happy, whenever he decides tuh-tuh-to. What. The. Fuck." She looked at Dean.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry," she said over and over, giant tears sliding down her cheeks as Sam tried to slide her off his lap. He was anxious about her blood loss. He was itching to patch her up. She squeaked and gripped his shoulders tightly, having none of that nonsense. "Is he crazy?" she thought. "No Sammy, don't leave me. Don't you leave me alone. Stay, Dean. Don't go. I'm sorry," she whispered fiercely.

Dean put his hand on her back. "Nope, sweetheart, not a chance. Not a chance in hell. Not ever leaving you. And don't you be sorry. You did nothing wrong. This is NOT your fault," he said strongly while he rubbed his hand up and down her shaking back.

"It's over for me. I can't. No more, please. Please God let it be over," she used her last bit of strength to eke out to them.

Sam felt like he had been holding her head for days. Dean handed him a fresh towel. "You can do this. You can. You are. But we get it, Tink. We know about PTSD. We've lived it, too. You can do this," he spoke deliberately. "Now, no more trying to talk. At all. I mean it, baby," he said firmly to her.

He pried her legs so she was sitting sideways, turning her head to face him. She continued her iron grip around his shoulders. Again, Sam sighed. "Gus, you have to let go of my shoulders. I'm not going anywhere. I need to tell you something. Come on now, put your arms down and look at me," he directed her, using his older brother voice.

She slowly released her hold and put her hands in her lap. She looked at him with her brows furrowed, pointing to her throat and shaking her head.

"I know it hurts. We'll get you fixed up in a minute, but first you have to listen to me. Are you listening?" he asked, now with his patient Sam voice.

She nodded and took a huge gulp from the cold bottle of water Dean handed her. She wanted more. She wanted ice. Popsicles. More ice. She wanted to ask, but instead gave Sam her full attention.

He waited for her. Finally he spoke.

"Flashbacks are normal. This is not something that goes away after a few months, hon. Dean and I can promise you. You aren't crazy. You are okay. You are going through something that sometimes you can't control. Honey, it's not your fault. If I have to say that every day to you, I will. Morning, Pixie, it's not your fault." He kissed her temple and looked into her eyes. He could see she was fading, so he hurried to make his point. "Dean and I can help you with this. Do you trust us? I know you do, Gus," he added.

She nodded her head and winced, closing her eyes tightly from the pain. Sam nodded his understanding.

"Okay, I know. Sit tight for me. One last thing." He bent forward, placing his lips next to her ear. "We are so close to finding him. Just days away. We WILL have him and I promise you, Guster, he WILL pay. You have no idea, Tink." He looked at her and smiled.

She looked back, taking her index finger and sliding it across her throat. "Imma kill him, Sammy"

He smiled wider, knowing how much that thought comforted her. (Probably more than he did). It was okay, it gave him comfort as well. He was a monster. Fuck, he just happened to hunt monsters. Damn, it thrilled him to know how close they were to ending him. They would stop him from doing this to another girl. There was no conflict in his mind. No blurred line he was crossing. He looked forward to it – surprisingly, even more than Dean was. This was his family, and when someone hurts his family they pay, end of story. It was as simple as that.

Krissy leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Sam looked surprised – she was very clingy, but not so much about the cheek kisses. "Thank you," she whispered. Her eyes began to close and darkness blessedly began to overtake her.

Sam lifted her and put a towel over the pillow, making her lay on the couch while he kneeled next to her, examining her head. "Gotta stitch your head up, Pixie. I'm really sorry. I hate to do this…" he began to apologize.

"It's okay, Sam," she thought she said. "Dean will hold my hand."

What Sam heard was unintelligible garble, with the exception of "Dean" and "hand". That was enough. They would go with that.

Dean pulled her hand into his, lifting her legs off the couch and across his lap. He was ready for her to start pressing as soon as Sam began cleaning her wound. Dean had been on the receiving end of Sammy's meticulous handiwork – the guy was crazy about the risk of infections. It wasn't clean until he said it was clean. He was surprised that she didn't really begin to squeeze until Sam brought the now-familiar curved needle through her torn scalp. She pressed but made no sound. He moved quickly, telling her he was almost done and how good she was being.

"All done Tinkerbell. Ten. You're such a good girl," he praised, covering his work with medical tape. He put his hand against her small cheek, noticing how large his palm looked next to her face. He made a fist – huge. How could any man take their fist and put it against his sister's face? He pushed the thought down, deep down to that place he would draw from soon. She was sound asleep.

He carried her to her pink room, pulling off her sweatshirt gently so she could sleep in her tank and shorts. He pushed her pink comforter up and over her, tucking her in. He went to the kitchen and began to crush ice – making a full bag and filling her insulated Hello Kitty mug and adding a spoon. He threw in a pink straw as an afterthought.

Back in her room, he placed Advil, throat lozenges, and her mug next to her bed. He moved methodically, mentally exhausted but full of adrenaline. He pushed her sweaty hair back from her face, smiling when she turned her head into his palm. "You rest, Pix. We're right here," he said softly.

He met Dean in the kitchen. His brother handed him a shot and a beer. It was all but gone in one sweep of his hand. Dean looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "Beer me again," Sam said. Dean grabbed him another.

"I'm going for a run, can you keep an eye on her?" he asked. Dean nodded. Sam disappeared down the hall, returning in his running gear and carrying an empty beer bottle.

His phone began to vibrate.

He pulled it from his shorts, face lighting up. "Jody" he mouthed to Dean.

"Hey Jody, what's up?" he said brightly. Dean was staring at him, anticipation evident on his face.

"What's up is that we got that evil sonnovabitch, that's what's up, my tall friend. Tagged him on a license renewal. We got him, Sam. Everything – full address, place of employment, the whole schpiel," she said excitedly.

Sam let out a long breath and gave Dean a thumb up. He watched his brother punch the air and yell "Yesssss!."

Sam closed his eyes. Here it was. They would have him within a day, maybe two.

"Damn Jody, you are the Queen, a Goddess, our Inspiration. You have no idea," Sam said, finally able to relax a bit. He grabbed a pen and began to write information in his neat handwriting on the paper Dean had handed him.

"Thanks so much, Jody. Really… yeah, I'll get back to you about that… thanks again," he said, hanging up.

He looked at his brother and high fived him, eyes dark and jaw tight. "We got him Dean. Let's go get that fucker," he said grimly.

Dean nodded, and then started jumping around the room doing his happy dance. He was gonna get to gank a monster! Always made him happy. Sam had to laugh. Finally.

He ran 12 miles, easy. He began to plan methodically every step of the way.