Sam woke with a start, drenched in sweat. He was in what looked like a bunker of sorts. It had symbols painted all over and was stocked with a surplus of weapons. He could see it belonged to a hunter, but had no idea who. He tried to sit up, but was handcuffed to the bed. He saw bandaged scratches on his arms, blood having seeped through the white gauze. Sam began to panic, hyperventilate. Despite his better judgment a yell was crawling up his throat and emerged as a thunderclap – "HELP!"
Outside the door he heard multiple footsteps descending hurriedly down a staircase. The heavy door swung open with a metallic shriek to reveal Dean, Bobby, and a third man Sam did not recognize. All three looked both stunned and relieved. Dean quickly came to the bed and unlocked the handcuffs from Sam's wrists. Sam sat up, eyes wide in his confusion. "Dean," he whispered raggedly, "What's g-going on, where… where am I?"
Dean turned around and shot Bobby a fearful glance. Turning back to Sam, Dean replied, "Sammy, you're at Bobby's. In his bunker. You know, cause of the… demon blood… thing."
'Demon blood?!' Sam's mind was racing. Nothing was making any sense. "Why am I at Bobby's? Why are you at Bobby's? I don't – did something attack... Bobby what's happening!"
"Sam, listen to me – SAM! You need to calm down! Calm down, breathe -" Both Dean and Bobby attempted to sooth Sam at once, only furthering his growing panic attack.
"You don't remember." The room went silent at the voice of the strange man. Sam turned his face to him, receiving an uncomfortable vibe from his gaze. The bright blue eyes fixed upon him seemed… wrong. They held more knowledge than was evident, and saw more than they let on. The man approached Sam and knelt before him. Reaching out his hand, he placed it upon Sam's face gently. "Woah, what are you -" Sam felt a strange ethereal presence in his mind. It was comforting and warm, and the way it felt reminded him of being near someone like Jess – a lover. The presence withdrew, leaving Sam with an even greater confusion. "Sam remembers nothing of his consumption of demon blood. To be more accurate, he remembers near to nothing of the past four years. His last memory is that of a Halloween celebration."
"Past four year…" Sam's voice grew small. 'Is that right? Four years?' Sam began to wonder what could have happened to him over the course of four years that he was no longer at Stanford, no longer with Jess, was with Dean again, at Bobby's (in Bobby's bunker, no less) wounded and handcuffed to a bed, and was quite possibly the lover of some… being in a trenchcoat.
"Is that true, Sammy?" Dean's voice was a quivering whisper. Sam slowly nodded his head. Bobby slammed his fist against the bunker door and returned back up the stairs. The trenchcoat man immediately disappeared. Tears were forming in Dean's eyes as he turned away. "I'm so glad you're alive, Sam," Dean said turning back. "And honestly memory loss is probably one of the better things we could have hoped for."
"What happened to me, Dean?"
"I'm not sure I know how to tell you, Sammy… or if I even want to." Sam knew Dean was trying to protect him from the 'cold hard truth' but Sam wanted answers and he wanted them now.
"Well, then you don't have to, Dean. I'm sure it's something Dad can handle….Where is he?"