A/N: Thank you for all the reads, reviews, favorites, and follows, on this latest installment of my story. Also, additional note, a Guest left a review expressing confusion about Sam and Dean not having their demon proofing tattoos. This fic takes place Season 2 around the episode Born Under a Bad Sign. They did not yet have their tattoos. (Canonically somewhere in Season 3 this happens). Also, this is slightly A/U because there is a sibling and other new characters. Having said all that, my fics do follow canon and the main storylines as closely as possible, considering there are original characters/plot points thrown into the mix. Reminder: If you leave a review as a Guest, I cannot directly reply to you! Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 2

Five days.

Five days since his brother and sister had upped and vanished into thin air.

It was the longest five days of Dean's entire life. And he was no closer to figuring what had happened to them than the moment he'd realized they were gone.

When he'd rushed to the burger joint back in West Texas, his heart nearly stopped dead when he spotted the flashing lights of police, an ambulance, and, the worst – a Coroner's office van. He was out the door of the Impala before he'd even come to a complete stop, rushing the scene and having to be held back when he overheard an onlooker saying the cops had found the dead body of a teenage girl in the restaurant's bathroom.

It took nearly four police officers to subdue him. The only reason they'd let him off with a warning was because they realized he thought the dead girl in the bathroom might be his sister. When they asked him for Laney's description, he'd stuttered through it and almost lost it. When they told him that the dead girl was not his sister, his knees buckled in relief.

But then Dean suddenly found himself being hauled into the local police station once they found out he was also missing his younger brother; the very one who matched the description of the man seen fleeing the men's room shortly before the dead body was found.

Dean maintained his cool. Smooth talking was his specialty. He frustrated the hell out of the authorities, while in the meantime he absorbed as much information about the case as he could. When he felt he'd heard enough he made his escape, retrieved his car and hauled ass out of town.

He'd called Laney and Sam's phones hundreds of times, hoping that just once they or someone would answer. But it was to no avail. He didn't have any leads.

Not one single one.

He called every single person on his contact list. All promised to keep their eyes and ears open, but none of them had any clue how to help him.

So Dean began driving around aimlessly, nowhere to really go, nothing to really do.

Without his anchors, he'd never been so lost in his life.

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Dean had been right, like he often was, Laney thought ruefully. She was sick. And getting sicker. Her sniffles had become full blown congestion with a cough that wouldn't quit. Her throat felt like it was on fire and the chills she was having indicated a fever. She'd been alternately hot and cold and there wasn't much to keep her mind off her situation.

The bathroom was locked down airtight,no windows and no way to tell if it was night or day. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light in the bathroom and she could make out the layout of the space. She'd eaten very little, for lack of appetite. She'd pulled and messed with the shackle on her ankle, which hadn't done a thing besides leave her ankle chafed and bruised. She'd yelled for help for awhile even though she knew no one could hear her. She'd made up lists of things to do for Thanksgiving. She'd put together her Christmas wish list. At the top; be rescued by Dean and get Sammy back. She'd recited her favorite computer articles from memory. She'd prayed.

The more time that went by, the more hopeless she felt. She wanted to be out of the torture of the solitude of the bathroom, but at the same time feared the return of Meg, although she really wanted to see Sam, even if it wasn't him. She could pretend, for a few seconds. She would at least know that he was still alive and in one piece, body jacked or not.

She had been locked up for four or five days by her best estimate, although she couldn't be sure. It wasn't like there was a clock to go by or even a sun to watch crawl across the sky. She could have been locked up for four or forty days for all she knew. It all ran together in one big blur. She got a special understanding of why solitary confinement was used as a punishment in prison. It was the worst kind, aside from death, that she could think of.

Laney coughed her way through another one of her increasingly frequent coughing fits. From the sound of her chest, she knew that she was getting pneumonia. She'd had it before, twice, once as infant and once at 9 years old. It had nearly cost her life; which seemed to be a regularly occurring thing these days. She was either in mortal danger or on the verge of dying. There was very little calm in between.

She needed a vacation.

That was the first thing she planned to tell Dean when he rescued her – and he would rescue her. She hung onto that. He'd never stop looking. And knowing that she had someone out there like that, who would search until his dying breath, made the misery she was experiencing somewhat tolerable.

Hopefully, she'd live long enough.

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Sam had lost all concept of time. Occasionally he'd wake up, as if from dream, into a real life nightmare. He was possessed. And he was doing things he would never have done. It was horrible not knowing where he was going or what Meg was planning to do while wearing him.

The worst part was the vague notion that he'd lost something. Something really important. Whenever he was on the verge of figuring it out, he'd black out again. Lost to Meg and her evil intentions.

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Day Six.

Dean couldn't hold a thought.

Couldn't function.

Couldn't breathe.

He felt a sorrow that was heavier than when he'd lost his father, and hopelessness on a level that he'd never experienced before. Yeah, he'd lost his father and it had hurt, still hurt, but he still had his brother and sister. But now, alone, and not sure he'd ever see them again; the pain was real and physical.

Now faced with the very real possibility that his entire family was now lost to him, he started fantasizing about ways he could join them.

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Laney was lost in a cloud of confusion. Sometime in the last day or so she'd moved from sick to extremely ill. Her breathing was labored and she felt like she was drowning. Her fever spiked and she shivered and shook on the bathroom floor, curled into herself. She cried for Dean and Sam, occasionally her father.

She begged and pleaded, even though she was aware that no one was listening.

She made a silent oath to fight as hard as she possibly could to stay alive. If for no other reason then, to let Sammy know that none of this was his fault.

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Somewhere in Illinois, Meg smiled in extreme satisfaction. She'd wreaked enough havoc.

Ready to move on, she set the stage for the next act of her sick play.

She picked up the phone and dialed. "Okay, Sammy, it's time for big brother to come out and play."

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"Hey, Ellen have you heard from either one of them? Heard anything in the Roadhouse about anything, anything at all?"

"Sorry honey, not a thing. I'm sorry Dean."

Dean shook his head and cursed. It was either curse or cry. "I don't know where they went or why. They're just gone. I'm friggin' losing my mind here. It's like looking for my Dad all over again."

Only worse.

Dean's phone beeped indicating another call. "Hang on Ellen, I got another call."

He pulled the way from his ear to look at the display. Sam's Cell.

Dean nearly dropped the phone.

He clicked over to answer. "Sammy? Where the hell are you!?"

"Dean, I don't know. I'm in trouble. I don't know what happened. I need your help."

Sam's voice was such a welcome relief to hear that Dean's knees nearly buckled, but not before he recognized fear and the near hysteria of his little brother's voice.

"Sammy, slow down. Where are you?"

"Blue Rose Motel, Stanton, Illinois, Rm. 109. Hurry!"

"I'm on my way," Dean said, climbing into the Impala. "Is Laney okay?"

"What do you mean? Isn't she with you?"

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As luck would have it – not that Dean felt the least bit lucky – he was only an hour outside of Stanton. Dean thought maybe there was something to the idea that he was linked with his brother and sister in some way. It was something he'd think about later; after he got them back.

For the moment all that kept bouncing around his head was Sam's voice and his panicked. "Isn't she with you?"

It was amazing how he'd run the gamut of so many emotions within a less than a minute. The elation at hearing his brother's voice and knowing he was alive. The fierce protector in him wanting to be there to help him and take care of him. The love replaced by the sudden terror of realizing that his baby sister was still missing. The absolute certainty in his mind that if she was gone that he would never be the same again.

All he could do was watch the Impala eat the miles of asphalt between him and his little brother and hope and pray that finding Laney wasn't far off in the future.

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Laney had lost the ability to distinguish between fantasy and reality. She was aware that she was deathly ill and running out of time. She knew that she was in serious danger and that no one in the world knew where she was except that demon bitch Meg, who was parading around in her beloved brother's body. But that was where the awareness stopped. Everything else was haze of fitful sleeping, dreaming, and a bone deep exhaustion she couldn't remember feeling in a long time. It was the kind of exhaustion where she thought she could close her eyes and sleep forever. Yet, lingering in the back of her mind was the thought that if she did that, it would piss off one very protective big brother.

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Dean peeled into the parking lot of the Blue Rose motel, jumped out of the Impala and raced inside, barely taking a second to scan the room numbers until he found the one he'd been looking for.

He knocked hard on the door. "Sammy?"

He pulled at the doorknob, noticing the door was unlocked and walked inside.

Sam sat on the edge of the motel bed, bent over, head down, hair in his face.

"Sammy? Hey," said Dean, quickly rushing over to his brother. "Are you okay?"

Dean immediately noticed the darkened blood stain across the middle of Sam's shirt. "Are you bleeding?"

"It's not my blood," whispered Sam.

"Whose is it?" he asked, lump in throat.

"I don't know," he said slowly. He looked up to face his brother's gaze for the first time. "Dean, I don't remember anything."

Let the games begin, thought Meg.

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"I talked to the hotel manager," said Dean. "He said you were alone when you checked in two days ago and he hasn't seen you with anyone. He didn't notice anything unusual."

"You mean, he didn't see me walking around with all that blood?" Sam asked, sarcastically.

"That's exactly what I mean," said Dean.

"How did I get it then? I mean, what if I hurt someone or worse? What about Laney?"

"Don't say that Sam," Dean said firmly. "You'd never hurt her, not ever."

"But what if this is what Dad warned you about? What if I'm going dark-sided?"

"Let's not jump the gun here," said Dean, rubbing his hand over his face. "Anyway, our priority is to find out what happened to Laney. We have to treat this like any other case. Just the facts."

Sam nodded and sat down on the bed.

"So what's the last thing you remember?" asked Dean.

"Laney and I going for food at that burger joint in West Texas."

"West Texas?" asked Dean, incredulously. "That was a week ago."

"That's it," said Sam. "Next thing I know, I'm sitting here covered in blood. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay, okay," said Dean, trying to keep his cool. The joy at finding his brother alive and in one piece was tempered by the fact that their sister was still missing and Sam didn't have any better idea of where she was than he did. "We'll retrace your steps. We'll figure this out."

Dean tiredly rubbed his hands through his hair and over his face. He stared out the motel window. "We're going to find her."

He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

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It took a full day; a full day of searching for answers with his little brother, for Dean to realize that Sam was not Sam. Not his Sam; maybe in body, but certainly not in spirit.

It started as a gentle nagging at the back of his mind. There was something off about his brother. There was the way he didn't seem as bothered by Laney's disappearance as he should have been. It wasn't that he hadn't said all the right things. It was the lack of true emotion under the words. The sadness he'd expected to see in those puppy dog eyes he'd known since forever wasn't there.

Then there was video of Sam killing an innocent man with his bare hands. If that wasn't a sledgehammer to the head that Sam was not Sam, he didn't know what was. That was when he knew with certainty there was something wrong. But he continued to play it cool. He needed to let things play out to see where they went. Hopefully in the same direction that would lead him to Laney.

Then Sam had begged Dean to kill him. But his Sam would have never wanted to do anything before finding their sister.

And that had been his last thought before he'd been knocked unconscious and left on a motel room floor.

Dean chased him through a few states, where Sam had taunted Jo and then in turn shot him in the shoulder.

But none of it, none of having his fear confirmed that his little brother had been possessed by a demon, or the fact that he'd been shot and left for dead. None of it was going to stop him from fulfilling his lifelong purpose. He had a brother to save and a sister to find.

Most importantly, he had a demon to kill.