SWEET RELEASE

By: Karen B.

Summary: Warning subject dealing with - Season six! Warning! Warning! Why is Sam acting so strange?

Disclaimer: Not the owner! At the mercy of the muse - who drags me around by the hair and through the mud.

AN: Ugh! This came out of left field, then right field, then left again. Then I think the muse wacked it out of the park at ninety-nine miles per hour. The ball did a u-turn then bonked me in the head. I was out for a while, but finally scrambled up off my butt and wrote this down in like two hours. Ouch! That hurt!

Thank you for risking a read!

Sunshine,

Karen

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"Sam, stop!" A voice yelled, just before strong hands plunged his face back into a sink full of frigid water.

Sam held his breath, cubes of ice floating about his head numbing his ears, but he could still hear.

"I'm sorry. You're okay, going to be okay."

Sam's trembling hands weakly flailed, gripping the side of the sink, his socked feet slip-sliding on the sopping wet titled floor. Sam was confused. Water surged into his nose, burning, and he struggled not to take in a breath. What was this? Some sort of new bobbing for apples game? Everything turned thunder-cloud black. Sam twisted and turned, but couldn't escape.

Flashes of white light brought strange images to him as if he was being shocked back into the past.

He remembered the rain. The empty field of grass at Stull. He'd woke curled on his side, in a tight ball, sinking down in the mud. It was dark. It was cold. He was alone. The rain kept running down, pouring over his face, soaking him to the skin and further. He lay there a long time - time having no meaning as he choked and sobbed on his own tears. After awhile he couldn't feel. Couldn't think. His brain frozen, frozen in hell. He hoped the rain could wash Lucifer away, but the flames of hell burned on.

He tired to keep his thoughts away from Dean. But thoughts of Dean were all he had now. They poured through his head like the heavy drops from above. Was his brother alive? Happy? Dead? Oh, God, what if…

More images and feelings formed. Running, dripping, taking him down. They continued to flash painfully in his mind like a broken kaleidoscope, and he started to shake all over.

Suddenly, hands were there. Tugging him up out of the grassy mud. Dragging his sopping wet and limp body into a van. Next, he was tied down to a bed. Blurry faces hovering over him, smiling, shoving sharp needles into the crook of his arm. Telling him it was for the best, for the greater good.

"Sam!" He was yanked back up out of the water.

"Augggh." Sam struggled fiercely, icy drops dripping down his face like tears.

"Hey, hey." Someone turned him around, pressed him up agaisnt the sink counter, restraining. "Wake up, man!" Hands gripped his shoulders tight and shook hard. "Wake up!"

Sam stared through strands of wet hair, that were glued down over his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam swayed.

"It's okay now, Sammy, just take it easy. You're okay, now."

"What's the matter?" Sam dizzily glanced at himself. "Why am I all wet?" He pushed back against the sink, gripping the edges to stay standing.

Bobby entered the room, arms loaded down with blankets and towels. "Sam?" Bobby side-glanced at Dean. "He back with us?"

"Yeah," Dean risked holding Sam up with one hand as he threaded shaky fingers through his hair, "We got him back."

"What are you saying…what happen?" Sam panted. Why'd he feel so small? Crushed like a fly swatted against a wall.

Dean leaned in close. "You were brainwashed, man."

Sam was stunned. "Is this some kind of joke? I wasn't, you can't, nobody..."

"Yes, Sam. You were brainwashed."

"For what?" Every muscle in Sam went taunt and rigid.

"To be the perfect hunter. Cold, calculating, following ever order like a good solider," Dean barked angrily.

Sam shivered and shook his head. "You're nuts," he said, teeth clenched tight.

"Buddy, listen to me. Think, Sam, try to remember. Think back to the day you got out of hell."

Sam peered across at Bobby, who was standing silent near the kitchen table. "It's true," Bobby said with a nod. "I should have known something was wrong from the get." Bobby hung his head, boot tip scuffing at a puddle that had formed on the uneven flooring. "A whole year and I never knew."

Sam shifted his gaze back to Dean. "Who? How?"

Dean was quiet, loosening the one-handed hold he had on Sam's shoulder. "Grandpa," he growled. "Billy Ray, Cyrus and Miley. Our so-called family."

Sam's eyes went wide - aghast, but somehow, deep down he knew - it was true.

Gawd." Drained of all energy, Sam's shoulders went slack, hunched in surrender. "Samuel," Sam whispered, knees going weak as he slithered from Dean's grip.

"Easy, easy." Dean caught him at the last minute under the armpits helping him to sit, leaning him against the sink cabinets. "You okay?" He squatted down beside Sam, eyeballing him anxiously.

"C-c-cold." Sam quaked.

Dean pursed his lips, but said nothing.

"How'd you find out?" Sam whispered between quivering bluish lips.

"Mark, came clean," Bobby said, tossing Dean a dry bath towel, and blanket.

Dean caught both deftly and twisted on the balls of his feet, back toward Sam.

"Mousy Mark?" Sam closed his eyes as Dean gently towel dried his hair.

"More like 'help I'm talking and I can't shut up' Mark." Dean eased Sam forward wrapping the warm wool blanket around his shoulders. "Kid got the case of the guilts."

"But why?" Sam opened his eyes, trying to focus.

"We don't know that yet," Bobby said, "But we're damn sure going to find out!" He slammed an enraged fist to the table and walked out of the room.

"How do you feel, anyway?" Dean asked softly.

"Wet." Sam trembled.

"Dude."

"Strange," Sam amended in a low voice. "Like I've been sleepwalking for a year."

"Yeah," Dean dejectedly sat down on the wet floor beside Sam, "Because you have been. Sure as hell isn't because you ate your weight in burritos." Dean glanced away. "I wish you had. Would have been easier nursing your gasey ass back."

"Dean, how'd you know?"

"I knew something wasn't right. I convinced Bobby and we…"

"And we what?"

"A friend of a friend of Bobby's, caught up with you. Slipped you a mickey at a bar. Brought you back here. He took a blood sample from you. Jin aren't the only thing Granddaddy's been jabbing needles into."

Hot and cold flashes racked Sam's body.

"You remember, Sammy?"

"Some. Not much."

"Bobby's friend, he figured out the composition of the drug good old grandfather was slipping into you." Dean scooped up a half-melted ice cube off the floor and held it in his palm. "He's been using the Jin's blood. Somehow it…it…son of a bitch!" Dean lashed out, throwing the cube across the room. "It changes people. Thank God we found…" Dean bit his lip trying to gather his wits.

"I get it, Dean," Sam mumbled. "You found an antidote."

"Yeah, had to add in a little shock therapy…mix well," he said sadly, gesturing up at the sink full of water and ice. "Sucked." Dean nervously wiped his wet palm on his jean-clad knee.

"I'm okay, Dean. You did what you had to." Sam's head wobbled tiredly.

"I'm going to figure this out, Sam." Dean tucked Sam's head against his chest. "If I have to set heaven on fire to do it."

"Sounds like we got lots of work to do." Sam trembled.

Dean enfolded Sam in his arms, running his hands up and down Sam's arms to warm him. "I promise you this much. We're doing it together this go round," he stated firmly. "I missed you, Sammy," Dean paused to swallow the emotions gripping at his throat. "Wasn't prepared for how much, but man… I- I missed you."

"You've been watching chick-flicks, haven't you?" Sam smiled.

"Dude," Dean tugged Sam closer, "You have no idea," he chuckled lightly. "The Notebook, Gone with the Wind, Ghost, Legends of the Fall…good movie," Dean clicked his tongue.

"You should see Titanic," Sam slurred.

"Saw it," Dean drawled.

"Practice makes perfect," Sam sobbed, rubbing his eyes.

"You crying?"

"I missed you, too, Dean."

Bobby stepped back in the room, and tossed Dean a box. "When you two ladies are done with your Kleenex moment, get your soggy butts in here. Like Sam said, we got work to do."

The end