"I can't," Sam said, closing his eyes.

"Concentrate, child," Missouri assured him in a voice that could sooth and sting simultaneously.

"This is worthless. I don't know what I'm even trying to do…or what I'm even doing here," Sam continued to push into himself. He shut his eyes as fiercely as he could, but nothing was happening.

"You just haven't explored your gifts, boy." Hearing her words, Sam immediately lost his concentration, and stared at her with an expression of Are you serious?

"The right way, I mean." Missouri rolled her eyes at the tenacity of this boy. Mr. Sam Winchester, knocking on her door at three in the morning, thunder still roaring, with nothing but a sopping wet head of hair to show for it.

Before he even spoke, Missouri had known why he was there. The boy-king, they called him, but to Missouri, he was just as he always had been - the boy. Yes, the boy with the gift.

Now, lightning still crashed outside her window, and Missouri eyed the candles she had set up around her living room. Their flames shivered, creating a dance of shadows along the walls. With a deep breath, Missouri kept her eyes on the boy in front of her. The candles' flickering lights were something she had never seen in this windless room before.

Yes, this boy had a gift.

"Now, just close your eyes again, Sam. Focus on the water glass, just like I told you." Missouri sat opposite the young hunter, a round wooden table between them. Directly in the center of the table, the aging widow had placed a clear glass filled with water. A single ice cube floated inside it.

"My mother once told me that those with the gift can just see what they want, imagine it, and it will happen," Missouri pronounced every word like she would in front of a child. But in her eyes, Sam was still young, learning, and new.

"Now, I'm not going to get deep and start saying that you gotta 'Become one with the ice,' because frankly, Sam, that's all hogwash…Anyone that tell you that's never done this before."

Sam smiled, still keeping his eyes closed. He always enjoyed Missouri's sense of humor and it seemed she always knew just what to say to break the tension.

Still, Sam's thoughts were clouded by guilt. He had come to Missouri seeking answers, something pure and separate from Ruby. Deep down, he knew that Ruby was leading him down a river, dark and deep, and soon it would swallow him whole.

No, Missouri was the only one that might understand what to do. The only one that knew how to do things, like she said, the right way.

"One more time…work on just the simple stuff, Sam. All that sound and fury you been making back with those demon exorcisms, it's not the way you want to go." Missouri spoke firmly, but her touch was gentle. Placing an ebony hand on his clenched fists, her touch shocked the frustrated hunter, but he loosened his grip.

"Don't squeeze those eyes so tight, you'll pop a membrane," Missouri had to smile with Sam. The boy was so unaware of what he had, of what he could do, but so oblivious. She could see the light inside of him, tingling her skin with just a touch. It was a light that no demon could ever bestow, no amount of blood could taint it.

"Let me guess," Missouri continued, "You get nosebleeds a lot, child?"

Sam lost his concentration again, looking up at the dark sage before him. She sat regally, hands folded, one eyebrow raised, announcing that she didn't even need an answer.

Sam simply nodded, darting his eyes quickly to the ground, ashamed of what he had done.

"No need to be embarassed, Samuel," Missouri continued. "You got the light, but no one's guided you with it."

"I was scared. I thought I turned to the only person that could help me…that Ruby character I told you about."

"Ahhh yes. Dear, sweet, Ruby," Missouri smiled, carving wrinkles into her cheek that came and went unnoticed. "Feisty little bitch, isn't she?"

"Missouri!" Sam cried out in shock. Hearing Missouri curse was like hearing grandma talk about sex. It just didn't happen.

"What? Ruby's a pawn in a bigger game, and even she don't know she's playing." Missouri let out a sigh and let a minute pass, watching the young man stare at that stubborn piece of ice.

"Sam?" smiling sweetly.

"Yes, mam?"

"Stop trying so hard, baby."

Sam groaned. "I told you I can't do this!" Sam raised his hands, finally about to give up in this sad excuse for an exercise. Quickly, he rose up from his chair, the front door in his sights. He knew he should have never come here. What was he even thinking?

"You were thinking that Dean doesn't need TWO demons to worry about. He's got enough with Ruby." Missouri stared at Sam out of the corner of her eyes, but with enough power that she didn't even need words. Sam was already down before she stated, "Now SIT."

Sam straightened his jacket, attempting to muster up some amount of dignity in front of Missouri, but looking more like a scared kid who just pissed his mom off.

"Quit pouting and get back to work," Missouri said, rolling her eyes.

And Sam did.

An hour passed, and the storm was only getting stronger. Inside, Sam was getting frustrated with what Missouri wanted him to do. Just move the ice, she says. Don't try so hard. Be calm. But deep down, Sam was falling. He had started down the path and now, struck by the realization that he was losing valuable time, it seemed he couldn't retreat. Every minute here could be a day, a decade for his brother.

He didn't have minutes anymore. He had abandoned calm when he had lost his brother. The lines between what Sam saw as right and wrong blurred when he remembered Dean. How Dean had lain in front of his own eyes, each brother powerless to stop the merciless claws, the teeth, the pain. And, god, the blood. The blood had stained Sam's hands. He couldn't wash it off. It seeped into his clothes, his skin, every fiber of his being.

Shit, the blood was inside of him and he had been powerless, weak, defenseless.

But not anymore.

After an hour, Missouri was finally relieved to see her student's body relax. She had replaced the ice every twenty minutes to make sure that her pupil had something to work with. It seemed that now, judging by his posture, Sam might finally be getting somewhere. Missouri smiled, assured that Sam had it.

"Yes, boy," she whispered, encouraging him along to find the way. "You've got it," she said even quieter, perhaps to herself.

But her eyes fell on the shadows again, and Missouri immediately regret what she had said.

The fires of the candles' wicks glowed in the glistening pupils of Missouri's horrified expression as she whispered, "Oh Jesus, not like this."

******************************************************8

Sam