Sam had tried every possible exit with the same results. It was like an invisible barrier had been placed over each one. It had to be supernatural so he tried different things, throwing salt out the doors, holy water he even took something iron and tossed it through. It didn't matter, whatever it was wasn't affected by any of that stuff.

He sat down on the couch, hanging his head low. Figured he'd be the one to get stuck in a cursed house. Sam didn't have many options as to what was going on; he figured cursed was his best bet. He knew they had checked the whole house for spirit activity and came up empty handed. He knew Dean would have made sure the house was safe before leaving him alone in it. So unless one decided to just move in while he was here then it had to be something other than a ghost. He couldn't figure out why it waited until now. He'd been here alone for days and he had been able to leave.

He wanted, just as much as he needed, his dad and Dean here. Sam wasn't even sure they were coming home or not, seeing as how he didn't get a call. He paused in thought for a minute, wondering if maybe they couldn't get through. Maybe whatever was preventing him from leaving also prevented anyone from calling. He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear, there was no dial tone at all. Sam knew there was one yesterday; he had tried to call out.

He hoped that his dad and Dean were on their way. They would know what to do, they would figure something out. He looked at the clock and saw that it was close to noon. They should be home in a couple of hours, and then everything would be okay again. They had a few books so Sam decided he might as well see if he could get anything from them. He knew it was a long shot, usually they did their research at the library; it wasn't really practical to carry around lots of books when you move all the time. But seeing as how he couldn't leave, he didn't have many choices, and at least he was doing something.

He read through the three books they had and nothing. There was no mention of anything like this at all. He rubbed at his eyes, the words had started running together and by the last book he could hardly concentrate at all, going on no sleep and his adrenaline was wearing down. He lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. He'd heard the impala and the truck, either that or his family coming in. His dad would probably be mad as hell if he had tried to call and didn't get an answer, but he'd get over it once he realized his son couldn't leave the house. It didn't occur to him until he was just drifting off to sleep, that if he couldn't leave, could his family even come in?

Sam woke hours later. The sun was low in the sky, the first stars just making their appearances. His family still wasn't back again and the house seemed even quieter than normal. He sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to clear his head. He got up and looked around. Something felt off. It wasn't just the fact that he still couldn't leave, he checked, or that his family was still gone and not back, it was something that was just out of reach. Like he had missed something just before he woke up and now he couldn't grab a hold of it.

Sam shook his head and laughed at himself, he was going crazy now. Of course something felt off. He was stuck in a house and his family was missing, who knows if they were even okay or not. If they never came back for whatever reason who knows if he'd ever leave. He could be stuck here forever, without anyone even knowing about it. The house they were staying at was about half a mile from town and hidden from the road. John had paid for two months, so no one would think to come around for at least another five weeks. Even that was a stretch; it wasn't like this house was prime real estate or anything.

Sam had nothing to do but hope his family was okay and that they had just gotten delayed somewhere. Whatever was happening they would figure it out. Until then Sam could do nothing but wait. His worry kicked up a notch when he noticed the bare cupboards and half empty fridge. He put off on eating; he wasn't hungry now anyways, despite it being almost a day since his last meal. Just the thought of eating right now made his stomach turn.

The next few days felt like weeks to Sam. He hardly slept and barely ate. He lost track of time and spent what he could trying to get out. He had limited resources but did what he could. He kept trying the salt and holy water, even when he knew they wouldn't work. Some days he would get so mad he'd pick up a lamp or a book and throw it across the room, screaming in anger. Other days his emotions got the best of him and he'd sink in a corner, ignoring the tears falling down his face. All his thoughts were focused on getting out, no matter what.

When he started hearing the voices he wasn't surprised. Lack of sleep was bound to make him hear things, even see things. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye but when he turned his head, there was nothing there. Sometimes, if he concentrated hard enough he could actually make out the words the voices were saying and what he heard only raised his confusion. It was just everyday conversation, mundane things like the laundry or when to go grocery shopping. He would get so frustrated at them, maybe because they were having a perfectly normal life and he wasn't that he'd start yelling at them to shut up and start throwing things again until it was quiet again.

He tried not to think of his family, or where they were, what happened to them. But he couldn't help himself most of the time. He missed them like crazy and as time went on, he could only think the worst. They were dead and he was here, stuck in a house that wouldn't let him leave.

The sound of two engines didn't register with Sam right away. He had imagined that sound so many times that he almost didn't believe they were real. It wasn't until he heard the slamming doors and footsteps' coming up the steps that he realized this was real. He heard the front door open and two sets of boots coming inside. He stepped out of the bedroom and for the first time in how long, saw his family.

His family stopped short after seeing Sam. Sam paused too, his family looked, different. They seemed older and more weary, their eyes held sadness that hadn't been there before. He wasn't quite sure what to say but watched as Dean took half a step forward, whispering, "Sammy." Sam narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching in fists, "It's Sam. Where the hell have you been? I've been stuck in this house for… for…" he honestly had no clue how long he had been here, but it didn't matter. "I waited for you and nothing. You didn't call that night or the next and I had no way of contacting you. I had no idea if you were alive or dead or what happened. I tried leaving and I couldn't, I've been stuck here doing nothing and I'm seeing things and hearing things and waiting for you to come back." By the end he was shouting and he didn't care. He paused to take a breath, opening his mouth to start again when he stopped short.

His family was crying. Dean was standing there, an expression of anguish on his face and silent tears running down his face. His dad wore a neutral expression but Sam could see the wetness in his eyes. He looked between them, begging silently for answers. Dean opened his mouth, closing it a few times before shaking his head. John cleared his throat before trying to speak, "Sam, something happened when we were gone. We thought we had—" his voice cut off roughly and he cleared his throat again before speaking. "We didn't know you wouldn't move on. Sam, you're- you're dead."

*Ok, um… sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't want to put warnings up because I didn't want to ruin it.

I have one more chapter left!

Thanks for Reading!