IMPORTANT A/N: In the last chapter I said that Dean was 17 and Sam was fifteen. I apologize for this mistake, and I do realize that they're four years apart. San is actually 13 in this story. Just thought I'd clarify.

Thanks to all who reviewed last time! I'm glad for the encouragement and thanks to the reviewer who pointed out the mistake with the ages. Appreciate it!

(-) this indicates a change in perspective or a change of scene

Part Two: Leaving

-

"Oh god..." he whispered squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stay with me Sammy," Jim's voice was deep in his ear, and he convulsively clutched the cool metal of the gun closer to his chest.

"Jim? How am I gonna..." Sam began, but the sound of the door slamming open made him cry out in fear.

"Sam...?!?!

"

-

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the main door slammed open. His breath heaved in his chest, and he felt the tears start to fall again. He wrapped his hands around the gun and prepared to fire. The phone was wedged tightly between his shoulder and his ear.

"Sam? What's happening?" Jim asked urgently in his ear.

"It got in," Sam whispered.

He was struggling to get in air, and his hands were trembling so badly the gun wavered in his hands. Sam swallowed hard and tried to steady himself and grip the gun as tight as he could in his sweating grip.

"Okay, Sam. You know what to do," Jim spoke soothingly in his ear. "Just like your daddy taught you, okay? Remember your breathing."

Sam nodded, forgetting that Jim couldn't see.

"Sam?" a voice called, and he frowned in confusion.

Sam's eyes sprung open in disbelief. It couldn't be...

"Sammy? Where are you?"

It was only then that he realized the wind had died down, and that it really was his father out there calling his name.

Sam dropped the gun and the phone with a clatter, and buried his face in his hands. Oh god, he was safe! They were back and he was safe.

The fear took over then and he began to sob in earnest, unable to stifle the sounds that tore themselves out of his chest.

The next thing he knew the door flew open and Dean and his dad burst in, guns at the ready to take down whatever it was that was scaring him. It would have been funny if Sam wasn't so terrified.

There was a moment of stunned silence that was filled only with the sounds of Sam's distressed sobs before he was swept up in strong arms and hauled bodily out of the confines of the shower.

"Sam? Sammy what happened?" John demanded.

Sam shook his head and buried his face in his father's broad chest, unable to pull himself together.

Dean had found Sam's phone and was speaking in urgent whispers to Pastor Jim.

Sam clutched at his father desperately.

"Don't leave me again," he begged. "Please, Dad, I'm sorry. Please...don't leave me alone..."

John was looking at him, stunned before he looked up at Dean who was standing at the foot of the bed looking confused and shaken in his dust covered clothes.

"That was Jim. He said..." Dean shook himself a little and looked down at Sam and their father. "He said that there was something here. Something was after Sam."

John instinctively clutched his youngest closer protectively.

"What, Dean? What was it?"

Dean shook his head. "He didn't know for sure. Some sort of spirit, he thought."

Sam, who had started to calm down a little, shuddered slightly as he listened to the voices of the only two people he loved. It was okay. They were here, and he wasn't alone any more. Dean was here. Dean would protect him.

John looked down at him again, and sat him up slightly so he could look into his eyes.

"Sam," his voice was steady and calm. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Sam swallowed and glanced at Dean as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of his hands.

"It's important Sammy."

"I went out into town today," he began, finally calming down completely, although his voice still shook slightly. He swiped at the tears that were drying on his cheeks. "When I was coming home it felt like someone...something was watching me. So I came back here and...I did everything you said dad. I salted the entrances, and I even put protective charms on the doorways and window sills. And I didn't go out at night, I swear!"

John smoothed a hand over his hair and pressed a brief kiss to his temple.

"I believe you, Sam. What happened next?"

Sam haltingly relayed the night's events to his father, aware that Dean was watching and listening intently beside him.

"Okay," John nodded eventually. "Dean, I want you to stay here with Sammy. I'm going to go have a look around."

Sam felt himself be shifted over to Dean, who automatically wrapped his arms around him. He turned his face into his brother's chest and breathed in the familiar scent of his brother; warm leather, sweat and the sandalwood soap that he used.

"Hey there Sammy," Dean whispered into his hair.

"Hey Dean."

"What's all this, eh? You gonna let a measly spirit get you down?" he chided gently as he rubbed his back soothingly. "You could have taken it easy."

Sam pulled back suddenly, needing him to understand. "No, Dean! It wasn't like that! It was like it was...I tried to be brave! I don't know why..." he stammered out desperately.

Dean looked slightly alarmed by his out burst. He automatically reached out and pulled Sammy close again.

"I didn't mean it like that Sammy. I know you tried. That's all anyone could ask for," Dean murmured.

Sam rested his head against Dean again, as more tears slipped free and trickled down his cheeks.

"Dad's gonna be mad at me isn't he? Cause I wasn't brave like you. I tried though, Dean. I really did."

Dean was looking at something over Sammy's head, but he answered him slowly.

"No, Sammy, he won't. He's just glad you're okay. Now why don't we get you in bed, hm? It's been a rough night for you and you need to rest."

Sam could hear his father outside talking to someone, presumably on his cell, so he nodded and let Dean help him get ready for bed.

Dean pulled the covers up to his chin and ran his fingers though Sam's hair once more.

"It's okay now, Sammy. I'm not gonna go anywhere."

Sam could feel sleep tugging insistently at his mind, but he forced his eyes to stay open for a moment longer.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You know I didn't mean it right?" he asked worried, despite his exhaustion.

He felt a gentle kiss brush his forehead, and Dean's fingers stroking his hair once more.

"Of course I do. I'm sorry too, Sammy. Now go to sleep. I'm right here if you need me."

Sam nodded, before letting his eyes drift closed.

-

Dean looked down at his sleeping brother and resisted the urge to climb into bed with him and hold him as he had done when Sammy was younger and suffering from horrifying nightmares. Today had been another nightmare for Sammy, and Dean wished more than anything that he could have been there for him.

When he had busted through that door and found Sammy curled up in the corner of the shower huddled and sobbing he had felt his heart break a little. Never had he seen his dad as scared as he had been at that moment when he looked upon his terrified son.

Dean glanced outside to where his dad stood in the shadows, talking in low tones to Pastor Jim. This had been a rough night for all of them. The hunt had not gone as expected. The ghoul they had tracked down turned out to be more of a slippery bastard than they had anticipated. It had taken them longer to find it and they hadn't been able to kill it. After wasting many hours and precious resources, they had agreed to retire for the time being. It had left his father irritated and restless.

Dean knew that the fight earlier had taken more out of his father than he had first thought. John hated leaving Sam behind. It went against all of his instincts, he knew. But he also knew that he had no choice. Sam wasn't ready yet. Dean had been hunting for years when he was Sam's age. But it was different for Sam. In their hearts, Dean and John Winchester knew that Sam wasn't cut out to be a hunter. It didn't come naturally to him as it did to Dean and John. He was intrinsically gentle and kind hearted, without a mean bone in his body.

Dean had watched his father that afternoon as he stood at the window and watched Sam run those laps around the field. Never had he looked so tired. He knew that when it came to Sam, his dad was at a loss. He had to be tough to get Sammy to learn things that Dean knew instinctively, and while it broke his heart to be so hard towards his youngest, John had no choice.

Dean could see it but Sam couldn't. And Dean could do nothing but watch the chasm between their dad and Sam widen with each harsh word spoken.

Tonight had been different. Sam had been shaken to his core and now things would be different, Dean knew. Now Sam would understand why he had to train harder than Dean.

At least he hoped he would.

Their dad had closed his phone, and Dean looked up as he re-entered the room. John glanced at Sam sleeping peacefully on the bed and frowned.

"Did you find anything out there?"

John shook his head as he bolted the door and knelt to draw the salt line.

"Nothing. Not a single trace of anything. Makes me wonder if there even was anything here and if Sammy was just overreacting," John murmured.

"Sammy wouldn't do that dad," Dean protested, sitting on the end of Sam's bed. "You know that he wouldn't."

John sighed and stripped off his jacket, hanging it on the hook next to Dean's.

"Yeah I know. Besides, Jim vouched for him. Said he heard noises over the phone."

"What kind of noises?"

"Heard the windows and...howling, wailing something like that. If there's one thing that man knows, its spirits," John said heavily.

"So what do we do now?" Dean asked, needing reassurance from his father that he would do something to prevent this from happening again.

"Afraid we gotta bail on this hunt, Dean-o," John said regretfully. "We'll head to Jim's place, and stay there for awhile. "

Dean nodded, satisfied with the course of action his father had chosen. After all, family always came first and Sammy was at the heart of their small family.

-

John woke them early the next morning. Both boys were groggy, and Dean was less then happy about getting woken up at six in the morning after a tiring hunt, but he got up without complaint. Dean and John let Sam sleep while they packed up the car, before John woke him and bundled the sleepy thirteen year old into the back seat of the Impala before they checked out of the holiday park and hit the road.

John was on edge, and the silence in the car was making him tenser than it should have. Dean was half asleep in the front seat, looking out the window and humming quietly under his breath. John looked in the rearview mirror to where Sam was stretched out on the back seat of the car. He still looked pale, and his tousled hair made him look like he hadn't just slept for eight hours straight. He looked younger in his sleep, and infinitely more vulnerable. Last night had opened John's eyes to the fact that his youngest was barely even a teenager- still a kid really- and less able to fend off the things that they hunted.

He had a tendency to overlook that fact now that Dean was older. The age difference between the boys was larger than John remembered- because Dean was so grown up now, he often mistakenly assumed that Sam was too.

No chance of that happening again, John told himself silently. What he needed to do was get Sammy somewhere truly safe.

It had been stupid to leave him alone in the first place, and John was kicking himself for the decision. Dean hadn't liked it one bit, but he hadn't said a word besides a few tentative suggestions, and he hadn't listened. He almost wished that Dean was more forceful in the way he stood up to John. While he appreciated the fact that Dean always followed orders like he was supposed to, he also knew that independence wasn't a bad thing. Yes, Dean could and would handle any situation with natural born skill, but John knew that even leaders needed to be kicked in the ass sometimes and put in line.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Sam would take on the role one day, but at the moment he had no one to do that for him. Which was why they were heading to pastor Jims. The older man would know what to do. He would see that Sammy was okay, maybe say a few blessings over him or something of the like, just to make sure.

John glanced in the mirror again just to assure himself that Sam was really okay.

"He'll be fine dad," Dean said quietly, also looking back at Sammy. "He's a strong kid."

"I know. But he's not ready to face this kind of thing yet. I should've known better," John said, clenching the steering wheel tightly in his hand.

Dean sat up a little and John could feel him looking at him. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, not wanting to meet his oldest eyes and see his own guilt reflected back at him.

"There's no way either of us could have known..."

"I know, Dean!" John cut him off, more sharply than he had intended. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, mindful of the sleeping boy in the back seat. "I know Dean. That's why it isn't going to happen again. Not ever."

John frowned, an idea forming in his mind.

"Dad?" Dean asked, his voice hesitant now. "What're you...I mean, what are you going to do?"

John glanced at his son, and cursed Dean's ability to read him as well as he could. His lips tightened as ideas began to turn over in his mind.

"I don't know yet, son. You may as well go back to sleep. We've a ways to go yet," John told him, effectively closing the conversation.

Dean was frowning next to him, but after a few minutes silence, he hunched back down in the passenger seat and rested his head against the door, closing his eyes.

John exhales, a heavy feeling of guilt settling in his gut.

Before him, the road stretched out as far as he could see, but for once it brought him little comfort.

-

"Hey boy-wonder, open those baby blues. It's breakfast time."

Sam sat up and rubbed at his eyes, frowning at the mid-morning light. Dean prodded him once more and he swatted at his hands irritably.

"Dean?"

"Right in one, kiddo. Now haul ass, I'm hungry," he replied, shoved his door open and swinging his legs out as he stretched.

For a moment, Sam wondered where the hell they were. His father was leaning against the hood of the Impala, talking on his cell.

"Where the hell are we?" Sam asked, easing his stiff body into an upright position. He felt almost fragile, like every movement was jarring his bones. His head felt like in would splinter into fragments if he moved it. Sam winced as he felt the beginnings of a headache. He had never been a good traveler as a kid, and he had thought he was finally growing out of it. But sleeping in the Impala always left him feeling...gritty somehow.

Dean frowned at him.

"Watch your mouth, Sammy. Dad would have my hide if he heard you talking with that mouth."

"Your hide?" Sam couldn't contain his snort. "Why would he have yours when he could have mine?"

"Who do you think you learned it from?" Dean grinned, and stood up. "Now get your ass out here. I'm ready to feed the beast."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean patted his belly, but did as he was told, sliding gingerly out of the back seat and joining his brother in the parking lot of a crowded Mc Donald's. He frowned up at the garishly bright red and yellow signage.

"Don't scowl like that. You'll frighten the little kids." Dean punched his arm lightly and started towards the sliding doors with Sam at his side.

"Shut it Dean." Sam grumbled, as his stomach rumbled unpleasantly.

"Who pissed in your cheerios this morning?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans. "I forgot you were so grumpy in the mornings."

Sam refused to comment, looking away to his left instead. He really wasn't feeling well, like he was greasy, coated in some sort of invisible dirt that wouldn't go away. Last night had been...he suppressed a shudder as he remembered it all in nightmarish detail.

He was just glad they were leaving that place behind. He was relieved that their father had stuffed them into the car and taken off. Such flighty behavior wasn't unusual for John Winchester. In fact it was commonplace for people in their profession. Sam had never liked the way they picked up and left at the drop of a hat, but he was grateful for it this time.

But the uneasy feeling hadn't left him. He didn't feel safe anymore, not even with Dean at his side. Until they were back on the road and speeding as far away from that place as possible once more, Sam knew the feeling would persist.

"Sam?"

Dean was trying to get his attention, and Sam realized that they were standing in line and waiting to be served. Dean waved a hand in front of his face.

"I said, what do you want for breakfast?" Dean asked impatiently, a frown on his face.

Sam blinked at him "Oh...uh, I'll have whatever you're having."

He shifted under Dean's sharp gaze, but refused to meet his eye.

"What's wrong Sam? Didn't sleep well?"

Sam's eyes shot to his brother's face, searching for some sign of teasing, or mockery. He found nothing but concern on the 17 year olds face and he relaxed minutely.

"No...it's nothing. I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not, Sammy. Last night wasn't fun for any of us."

Dean was frowning again, his eyes taking on a far away look that meant he was worried about something. Sam nudged him as the line moved up and they stepped forward.

"Really, I'm fine Dean," Sam insisted quietly. "But...did dad say anything to you? He's not...mad at me is he?"

Sam bit his lip and waited for Dean to look at him. When he finally did, his green eyes were troubled, and Sam felt the bite of nervousness in the centre of his chest.

"No, Sam. He's not mad at you." Dean hesitated before pasting a false smile on the fooled neither of them. "But he will be if we don't bring him his coffee."

Sam knew then that something wasn't right.

TBC