A/N: Screw EggHams. I know I should be studying, but my first exam is drama... so I'm pretty much set XD Plus, there is a shit ton of drama at home right now, and I need the escape.

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The clearing in the forest looked a lot different in the day. It was almost pleasant, with it's lush greenery, and tall trees. But Bobby wanted to hightail it out of there ASAP, because he knew what had happened there just hours ago. Sam's blood still stained the grass and splashed onto a tree trunk nearby, a silohette of his body just pressed into the earth. Bobby frowned. It wasn't like this place was going to scar him for life, and he'd have constant nightmares, and all of that mushy bull. It was just still all too fresh. It only irked him, pissed him off more than anything. Esepcially knowing greg had gotten away.

Behind him, Bobby heard the rustling of fabric, and turned around to see Castiel still standing where they had landed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bobby gave him a questioning look. Cas simply waved him off. "If you can handle yourself from here, I have important matters to look into." He said.

Bobby turned back to the clearing. "Whatever, I-" The fluttering of wings inturrupted him midsentence. "Idjit." He muttered. Quickly locating the direction which they had entered the clearing the first time, Bobby began walking towards it, only to stop when a glint of light caught his eye. Lying in the grass a few feet away was the gun Greg used to shoot Sam. But that wasn't the only thing he noticed. As he knelt down beside it, and wiped his finger tips over the hilt, a yellow powder stuck to his skin.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Sonovabitch." Dean growled when Bobby set the gun down on the kitchen counter. The old man had walked into the house, ignoring any greeting and went straight to the kitchen, silently telling everyone to follow. When the Halliwells and Dean had crowded around, the Winchester had barely had time to ask what was going on before Bobby slapped the pistol onto the marble surface. The yellow substance on the metalic surface struck a cord in his mind. He didn't know whether to be relieved or even more pissed. Relieved that there was one less person one the list of those who have tried to kill Sammy for being a so called 'monster', or pissed that a demon was up their asses again.

"What is it?" Pheobe asked, examining it closer, though she didn't touch it.

"Sulfur." Dean replied. "Demons leave traces of it behind where ever the little bastards go."

"Meaning who ever shot Sam was possesed." Paige finished.

"Shit..." Dean rubbed his hand over his face. "But why would a demon go through all the trouble of making us believe it tried to kill Sam because it called him a monster? Why not just gank us right away?"

"I don't know. But it gets worse." Bobby grunted as he picked up the gun and unloaded the clip. He took a bullet out, and upon close inspection, Dean could see that this one was cracked, probably a fluke, but a dark, thick liquid was leaking through.

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. "Is this..."

"I don't think it's poison." Bobby finished. "Look at it."

Confusion taking over his face, Dean examined the liquid. He dabbed his finger in it, feeling how thick and sticky it was, before lifting it under his nose. He turned his head away sharply at the acrid, sick smell. "Ecktoplasm?" He gagged.

Bobby nodded. "Dean, this whole thing was staged. Something is after your brother."

Dean dropped the bullet with a clatter onto the counter. "Then I'll kill it before it even gets close." He growled.

"Don't be an idjit about this, boy. We have to lay low until we find out what we're dealing with." Bobby said firmly, starring down the Winchester. "If we go in all guns-a-blazin', we'll be toast, and it'll get Sam. We have to do whatever it takes to through them off our tracks. I'll head back to the wreck yard, try to make it seem like you two came back with me. In the meantime, you stay here, take care of your brother and lay low. We'll stay in contact."

"But Bobby-"

"Quit your belly achin' and do what I tell you for once." Bobby rolled his eyes as he began walking toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back to address the Halliwells. "Sorry to be asking so much, and thank you for taking care of those boys. Lord knows it'll take all four of you to keep them in line."

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"So, you're their sister?" Sam asked conversationally as he sat in the attic, almost relaxed by the dim, golden light cascading from the stained glass window into the dust fill air.

Prue nodded from her place leaning back on the wall. "Mhm. I was killed a couple years ago."

"Have you been able to tell them you're here?" He asked with a curious tilt.

Prue almost seemed to pout. "No, unfortunately. I tried non stop after I died, but I'm no longer connected to this world. See." She pushed herself off the wall, walking toward the oversized book on a pedestal in the middle of the room. She attempted opening it, but though her hands touched it, she couldn't physically open it, like it weighed 400 pounds.

Sam nodded. "So, if you can't contact them, why you haven't moved on?"

Prue laughed lightly. "Death isn't as limited as people think. I moved on the moment I died. I exist primarily on the other side. I only come down here, to... visit I guess is the best way to put it."

Sam fell silent, suddenly not wanting to talk about the other side, or death. His eyes dropped the the grains on the wooden floor boards, travelling along the rivets and cracks, as if they would lead him somewhere; hopefully some answers. Prue seemed to notice this, and sat down beside him, not saying a word. Sam sighed, silently thanking her for her comfortable silence. "I need to return to my body..." He whispered. "But, I've tried. It's like there's something keeping me from it, but at the same time, there are no reapers trying to get me to leave. I'm stuck."

"Sam..." Prue pursed her lips, "You might not-"

"Don't. Don't say that." He snapped. "I have to go back. I can't leave my brother."

Prue sighed. "Then we'll figure something out."

Sam smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

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Phoebe sat at the kitchen counter, her chin resting in one hand, the other drumming her fingers on the surface. Paige was picking something up at work, Piper was getting groceries, Leo was out doing whitelighter things, and Dean was upstairs with his comatose brother. That left her with nothing to do, sitting at home, bored as hell. Her eyes fell upon the bullet on the kitchen counter. Dean had put the gun in the back of his car, where she had discovered an entire arsenal, for safe keeping, but left the bullet so that Castiel could take a look at it later. Glancing around to make sure no one was around, as if she were stealing an extra cookie before dinner, she reached out to pick it up. Her breath was sucked from her lungs the moment she came in contact with the cool metal.

Leo struggled in vain against the shackles that bound his hands to the stone wall, above his head. His skin was pale, dark circles forming under his eyes. He looked completely exhausted, but he kept fighting against the metal. Castiel was chained next to him, trench coat covered in mud and grim. He did not struggle, nor did he show any signs of giving in. He stared up at a black figure, whose back was to the angels, his eyes burning in hatred and the promise of pain for it.

"Sammy, sammy, sammy, why do you fight it?" The figure asked. Phoebe's eyes shot away from the shackled men, landing on young Sam, who was also bound to the stone wall, but standing, his arms chained and outward on each side of his body, leaving his chest exposed. He glared defiantly at the man shrouded in darkness before him, the light from the ring of fire surrounding him dancing on his skin. "It seems you have learned nothing of your power during your unfortunate time as a spirit. You have all of the power of heaven. I've given it all to you, and still you fight it."

"It was never meant for me." Sam growled.

"Oh? I suppose that is true. But why not simply give in to what I have in store for you? Dear, dear, Samuel, if you let me take you by the hand, I can give you anything you ask. Perhaps a simple, apple-pie life, with your beloved Jessica, and a job as a lawyer. Your mother and father living down the road, happy and healthy. Your brother visiting on the weekends with Ben and Lisa in tow. Think of the white picket fences, and your perfect little family." The man stepped closer, stepping through the fire with ease, grabbed Sam's chin to force his eyes to fall into his black voids. "I think it's rather selfish of you to deny them this."

"Go to hell." Sam spat.

The man grinned. "That's not any way to thank me." He punched Sam hard on his jaw, his head whipping to the side by the force, not having enough will to move it, and let it drop. The man walked out of the fire leisurely, picking up a short, silver sword off an old table. He moved toward captives, but suddenly stopped in mid step. He paused, before slowly turning toward where Phoebe watched, as just a phantom of the past. He shouldn't have been able to see her... "Phoebe darling, it's not polite to peek at your presents." He smirked sickly before spinning around the stabbing Castiel, a bright light erupting from his body, along with a piercing scream.

Phoebe pulled away from the bullet as if it had burned her, gasping to catch her breath. Of all the visions she ever had, that was probably the most eery. She sat stock still, trying gather her thoughts, when out of the corner of her eye, something moved. She spun around, catching the flickering image of Sam, standing in front of her with wide, confused eyes. A blur stood beside him, but it was too unclear to make out. Just as soon as the image appeared, it blinked out of existence, leaving Phoebe wondering if it had ever truly been there.

The faint sounds of struggle and cursing, muffled by the ceiling above her startled her out of her thoughts. Jumping out of the chair, she dashed up the stairwell and down the hall, throwing the door to the guest room open. The first thing she noticed was the Dean was on the floor, looking royally pissed. The chair he had been sitting on was tipped over, concluding that he had fallen out of it. The second thing she noticed, though he stood right in front of her, was the Castiel had returned, looking worn out and tired.

"Damn it Cas, how about a little warning?" Dean mumbled as he picked himself up off the ground.

Castiel ignored him completely. "Where is Leo?" He asked.

"Um, out, I don't know." Phoebe shrugged. "Why?"

The angel seemed to deliberate whether to answer or not for a moment. "Heaven is being drained."