On to chapter Four! Thanks again for everyone who has read and reviewed!

Chapter Four

Dean drove into Palo Alto and found the address to Sam's apartment easily enough. It was only a short drive from the college, within walking distance even, if you were determined enough. Dean wondered if his brother had a bicycle or something; that seemed like a Sam thing to do.

The apartment was modest, small and probably cheep, but Dean knew—hoped—it was home to Sam, something he had never experienced. He almost felt voyeuristic as he set about picking the lock to get in. It was still weird for him to think that Sam had this whole life away from him. Maybe it was selfish, Dean wasn't really sure how to explain the way he felt. It was just that he and Sam had grown up together in close quarters, closer than most siblings as he had pretty much raised Sam all by himself, and now there was this whole life Sam was living that he knew nothing about. They never talked anymore, and Dean wasn't even sure why. He just had never really thought of this before. The idea of Sam at college had been to him more like a pause in Sam's life that would resume when he came back to Dean, but he had created his own world here or at least that was what it felt like to Dean. Because Dean hadn't changed. Same job, same car, same clothes, same music; the only thing missing was his little brother, and this whole horrible thing had really made Dean realize how much he hadn't been living the last two years that Sam had been gone. Sure, they weren't exactly living the highlife before, but Dean had always felt more alive around Sam. He offered a purpose—looking after his little brother—and without that, Dean didn't know who he was. How messed up was that?

"Get ahold of yourself," he scolded himself under his breath as his hands fumbled with the lock picks.

The fumble turned out to be fortunate, however, because he happened to look up and saw a car pulling up to the curb with Jessica Moore at the wheel.

Dean cursed and made a hasty retreat as he dashed around the complex and down some stairs as Jessica made her way up to the door of her apartment. She still looked like she was crying and Dean felt a pang in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to go and tell her that Sam wasn't dead, but he had already decided that was a horrible idea. Hopefully he wouldn't have to keep her in pain too much longer.

She fumbled with her keys and dropped them before she was able to get inside the apartment. Dean bit his lip. He couldn't search the place now, he would have to wait until later, maybe go grab something to eat and see where Bobby was.

He went back to the Impala and drove around until he found a café where he got some lunch then went back to the street the apartment was on and parked the Impala in a less noticeable place where he could still see the apartment. He figured Jessica probably didn't know the car, and maybe not even who Dean was, but he wasn't going to take chances either.

After he finished his lunch he picked up his phone and dialed Bobby. The older hunter picked up after a few rings.

"Yeah?" he said in greeting.

"Hey, Bobby, just wondering where you're at," Dean said.

"I'm almost to the border, I should be there in Palo Alto in a few hours. You find anything?"

"Not really," Dean said. "I found the address to Sam's apartment, I was going to check it out and see if I can find any clues. Don't know what I'm looking for."

"Well, we'll scour the place if we have to. Once I get there, I'll start looking through local papers and see if there's been anything suspicious going on lately. You just keep a look out and be careful. If something did come after Sam then it might not mind having you too. Who knows if this isn't something John got caught up in."

"The thought crossed my mind," Dean said grimly. "Still haven't heard from him."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to do this one solo," Bobby said. "Just don't do anything stupid until I get there. I'll see you then."

They ended the call and Dean sat back, ready for his stakeout, even though everything in him screamed to be tearing up the town for his brother. He took out Sam's wallet again and found the picture of him and Jessica.

"You better not prove me wrong, Sammy," he said. "You can't be dead; not with this babe waiting for you." But even if Sam wasn't dead, Dean didn't even want to consider what state he was in right now. Because when did the Winchesters ever have it easy?

Sam was woken with another bucket of freezing water thrown over him. He gasped, the act of drawing air back into his lungs an enormous effort. Someone grabbed a handful of his sopping wet hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to open his eyes, seeing Carlton crouching over him, hauling him into a sitting position.

"Wake up," he commanded, patting his cheeks none-too-gently.

"Are you lucid, Sam?" that other voice, smooth and deceptively soothing. The demon who called himself Steven again. Sam's eyes focused on him, trying to glare.

"Any more dreams?" Steven asked him. He had a chair now that he was sitting in, one leg crossed over the other casually, again reminding Sam of a businessman. "What was it last time, you said? Fire?"

Sam shook his head to clear it. "I don't have dreams like that, I don't know what you want me to tell you."

Steven breathed out his nose, sounding impatient. "Perhaps this tactic isn't working out for the best. Or maybe you have yet to perfect this talent. I think we should move on to something else." He stood up and pulled something out of his pocket before crouching in front of Sam. The young man watched warily as Steven held out his hand and opened it, palm up, revealing a small smooth river stone.

Steven smiled as he saw Sam's confusion. "Why don't you try to move this, Sam."

"With what, my mind?" Sam asked sarcastically, getting really tired of these stupid games. He was freezing and wet and woozy from the drugs they had forced into him.

Steven quirked an eyebrow. "What else?"

Sam's eyes widened. Was he actually serious? "You're insane. I don't know who you think I am or what you think I can do, but you have the wrong guy."

"Oh, no, Sam," Steven said solemnly, shaking his head. "I don't make those mistakes. I remember all of you."

A shiver went down Sam's spine that had nothing to do with his wet clothes. "All—all of us? What does that mean?"

But Steven just smiled, obviously not willing to give out that information. This just sent Sam over the edge.

"What do you want from me?" he shouted in the demon's face, making his head pound.

Steven's face darkened. "I want you to show me what you can do. Use the gift you were given."

Sam glared at him. "I don't have a gift," he ground out. "I'm not psychic if that's what you think and even if I were, I certainly wouldn't sing and dance just because a demon told me to!"

Steven stood up, angry now. "You don't think so? I complimented you earlier for being smart, Sam, don't make the mistake of underestimating me. You're not that stupid. Your father might be an obsessed lunatic, but he taught you better than that. So I'll give you an offer, because I do like you, Sam, I really do, and I don't want to have to make this nasty. You try what I ask you to do and when we get results, I'll let you go back to the nice little life you cut out for yourself. How does that sound?"

Sam glared up at him. "How about a counter offer? Go screw yourself!"

Steven's hand moved almost too quickly to see, slamming into Sam's face and flinging him to the floor, his right cheek throbbing, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth where he had bit his tongue. He pushed himself up to his elbows, looking up at the demon who stood over him, no longer effecting a pleasant attitude.

"You will learn to respect me, boy. I might regret killing you, but it won't really be the end of the world either, so don't think you're safe. I'll be back tomorrow to see if your attitude has improved, and I'll leave Carlton to help it along."

Sam watched him leave, feeling helplessly trapped before he turned to see Carlton grinning at him and cracking his knuckles.

"Don't worry, boss, he'll be perfectly compliant tomorrow."

Sam knew what was coming but it still didn't make it any better when the first pounding fist landed, cutting the skin across his cheek bone. He fell down with a yelp and tried to curl into a ball as Carlton continued the beating adding kicks to his sides and back. His world dissolved into pain until finally a kick to the head sent him under and he didn't exactly greet the darkness unkindly.

It was nearly nighttime when there was movement in the apartment again. Bobby had called and said he had gotten to town, but Dean had told him to get a room somewhere and he would join him there later not knowing how long he would be staking out the apartment. After that he had been dozing and he started awake when he heard a door shut. He shook himself back to wakefulness and watched as Jessica locked the apartment door and headed out to her car. Dean had hoped she would leave earlier, and had begun to think that she was going to stay there all day, already obviously skipping classes, but it seemed he would get his chance after all. Maybe they were having some memorial service for Sam. Dean felt sick to his stomach at the thought, but pushed that aside. His brother wasn't dead and he was going to prove it. But he had to have something to prove it with first, so he needed to get to work.

He left the Impala where it was parked and walked down the street to the apartment. This time he picked the lock smoothly and slipped inside the darkened place.

There was a kitchen to the right that he ignored, at least for now, as it probably wouldn't give him any clues. He pulled out his flashlight and searched the small living room, finding nothing more than a bunch of textbooks and loose papers and a few recreational books and movies and a couple pictures. He even looked for hex bags even though this didn't smell like witches to him. That at least was one thing to be thankful for.

With a sigh, he moved to the bedroom and shook off the feeling of how wrong this was. He took a deep breath and began to look through everything, both Sam's and Jessica's (and he didn't even linger in her underwear drawer) but nothing stood out to him. Nothing but the fact that Sam had very few possessions and only about enough clothes to wear for a week before washing. He only found one pair of jeans, and knew Sam must be wearing another. He still lived like he had to pack everything in a duffle bag. Dean frowned, maybe Sam hadn't quite settled into his new life as well as he had hoped, but then again, a lifetime of habits were hard to break.

It wasn't until he looked around the room a second time that he smelled something vaguely familiar, yet he couldn't place it at first. He frowned, looking around and heading toward a window. There was something on the sill and he touched it, bringing his fingers to his nose. The rotten egg smell of sulfur assaulted his senses and his worst fears were confirmed.

"Aw, Sammy, what have you gotten into this time?"

Sam woke to a much more soothing sensation than he had previously. It took him a while to surface from unconsciousness and when he did he wished he hadn't. His whole body hurt, he wasn't even sure of all the places it hurt yet, just that it was sort of all encompassing. But yet, he still managed to feel comfortable for some reason. There was something soft and warm under his cheek and it took him a minute before he recognized the touch of gentle fingers stroking through his hair. He frowned at this. Those things didn't go with this situation. Instantly, he thought of fire, a beautiful woman he only recalled from pictures, some lost memory that his dreams earlier had recalled, but he squeezed his eyes until they went away, too painful.

"Sam?"

He forced his eyes open, finding with some disappointment that he was still in the cellar, but someone else was there. He rolled onto his back and instantly wished he hadn't as pain erupted through him. But he soon forgot the pain as he saw who was there with him. A familiar smile and the owner of the soothing fingers.

"Jess?" Sam asked, confused at first, before horror struck him and he sat up despite his body singing with pain and his vision blackening with the sudden change in position. His hands were on her face, looking her up and down to check for injuries. "Are you all right? What are you doing here?"

"It's okay, Sam, I'm fine," she said, still smiling. Sam was instantly on guard. Something didn't seem right. Her voice seemed off, as well as that smile. Maybe it was just his muddled head, but…

"What is it, Sam?" Jess asked, frowning now, reaching out to trace a finger over a bruise on his cheek.

Sam stiffened. "You're not Jess, are you?" he demanded.

Jess looked indignant, but then a slow cruel smile that Sam could never imagine on his girlfriend's face pulled at her lips. "Bingo. You are smart, aren't you, Sam?" Her eyes flashed black, making Sam sick.

"You get out of her right now!" Sam shouted.

The demon wearing Jessica laughed, smoothing her hands down her borrowed body as if it were no more than a coat. "I like this one so much better than the other chick. Blonds do have more fun."

"Kara?" Sam inquired, knowing he was right from the smile. He snarled at her. "Don't you dare hurt her, I will kill you, do you hear me?!"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch, Sam," the demon said dismissively. "I'm not going to hurt her, in fact sweet, innocent Jess doesn't even know she's being possessed. As far as she's concerned, she's getting a good night's rest and she'll wake up tomorrow without any recollection of this, or…" she slid close to Sam and took his chin in her hand. "Of how close she got to her dead boyfriend." Sam's body filled with disgust as Kara used Jess's lips to kiss him. He swore he would make the demon pay for this. Thankfully, after that, she pulled away and stood up. "This is a warning, Sam. We know your weaknesses and we will use them if you don't cooperate. So if you don't want poor, naïve little Jess to know about how dark the world really is, I suggest you give Steven what he wants tomorrow. That beating Carlton gave you earlier was just a warm-up. You wouldn't want the same courtesy to be paid to your girlfriend here, I assume."

Sam's glare said everything he needed to, unable to form the words of hatred he felt toward these demons. Kara smiled and turned around, heading toward the stairs. "I'm going to go put Jessica back to bed now. But think about it, Sam. And sleep well."

Sam watched her go, seething, and sick to his stomach. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Jessica because of this, but he knew he couldn't deliver what Steven wanted him to. So how the hell was he going to get out of this without losing everyone he loved?