Not mine, don't own.

At the moment, I don't have a beta reader. Let me know if you're interested! Any mistakes are mine.

My thanks to bagelcat1, .777, insecurefangirl1944, geekyhuntergirl, MarbleWolf, smscotty, and ShannonAlexis for your comments on the previous chapter. I appreciate everyone who has favorited and/or followed this story. My apologies for making you wait 10 months for another chapter. I do intend to finish this, although I don't have an ending in mind just yet.

Trigger warning in this chapter for claustrophobia & panic attacks, although there's nothing too graphic.

Sam swallowed hard. He couldn't hear anything, save the ferocious pounding of his heart. The walls inched ever closer. The tight box he was trapped in clearly hadn't been designed for someone of Sam's height.

Is it airtight?

Sam's breath came faster, little huffs of exhalation. He could see bars in his mind, flames licking up the metal, spirals of ice-cold heat that burned at the touch, seared his eyes, rang in his ears...

"Mr. Campbell?" A woman's voice, distorted and tinny, came through the padded headphones he wore. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Sam replied weakly, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes latched onto the tiny window and Sam reminded himself that he wasn't in the Cage. This wasn't torture; it only felt like it. The sooner he finished this test, the sooner he would be out of this hellhole.

"Your brother mentioned you don't like enclosed spaces. Any time you need a break, just say so, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Trust Dean to treat me like I'm five.

"I'm fine," Sam said, trying to add some conviction behind his words.

"I'm going to begin with a series of tones. I want you to press the button when you hear them, all right?"

"Okay," Sam agreed.

A low hum started in Sam's right ear, and he pushed the button on the controller clutched in his right hand. Sam heard the same sound again, softer this time, and he knew the decibel level had dropped. He pressed the button again. This process repeated several times until Sam couldn't hear anything and a new sound began.

The audiology exam had settled into a somewhat predictable pattern when Sam realized that he had gone an uncomfortably long time without hearing anything. His stomach clenched and his mouth grew dry.

I'm failing the test.

Sam tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, but it was hard in the confines of the small room. A bead of sweat travelled down his hairline. Tongues of flame began to lick the walls of the Cage. The metal bars began to warp and bend under the intense heat. Spurts of flame started to crackle and...

"I need a break," Sam blurted, cursing his weakness.

"Of course, Mr. Campbell." The door to the little soundproof room opened and the technician handed him a cup of water. "Let's take 15 minutes," the grey-haired woman suggested. "No need to rush. You should grab a snack too. Your brother is waiting for you in the lobby; there's a vending machine there."

Sam gulped the water and nodded, squinting under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Before you go," she said, "I need your permission to run some additional tests." Sam felt his stomach drop.

"I ... those last few minutes, I was..." Sam swallowed. Is there a way to say incapacitated that doesn't make me sound incompetent and helpless? He stared at the cup in his hands.

She nodded. "I understand, Mr. Campbell."

That I was tortured by Lucifer? Sam bit back a snort. No, you really don't. The only other living person with an inkling of what Sam had gone through was Dean.

"It's Sam."

"You're not the first person with claustrophobia to come through here, Sam. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She gave him a firm smile and nodded. "As for your hearing test, I'll re-run the last series. We'll get this sorted."

Sam nodded, wondering how many sounds he had missed. Were the tones at the frequency of a tea kettle? Because I've got no hope in hell of hearing those. Sam chewed his lower lip and tried not to dwell on his failing hearing or on Hell.

The older woman handed him a clipboard. "This is the form for the expanded audiology exam. I want you to know, insurance doesn't always cover this, but it's an important diagnostic tool. In addition to increased precision, it serves double duty for your next appointment, whether you choose to follow-up here or somewhere else."

Sam blinked. I have to come back?

"You'll need this information to calibrate your hearing aids."

Sam couldn't process anything after that. He signed the form and numbly walked out of the room. He was going to need more than 15 minutes.

Sam stared at a hole in his jeans. His brother was prattling on about health insurance, one hand on the steering wheel, the other one waving around in Sam's face. Something about how Sam shouldn't worry because they'd gone legit - at least medically speaking - and he'd just renewed coverage for Sam and Dean Campbell. Dean had apparently paid for the most recent premium by selling vintage car parts he'd pilfered from one of the old vehicles stored in bunker's garage.

"Easier than sellin' vintage cars," Dean was saying. "Hate tearin' up our collection, but there's less chance of the feds picking up on it than if I showed up at a car show with one of those babies in mint condition."

Sam grunted. "Yeah."

"Might've found me a job, too."

Sam's head snapped up. "What?"

Dean enunciated his next words carefully, and Sam hated him for it at the same time that he appreciated his brother's thoughtfulness. "Guy named Joe at the salvage yard over on Front Street. I stopped in to get an estimate on the muffler I was selling. Said I could help him strip cars whenever I had a free minute."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Sounds shady."

Dean shrugged. "Cash is cash." He glanced at Sam while making a right turn.

Sam heard what Dean didn't say. We need the money. Because your ears are jacked up and we can't hunt until you adjust. And right now, little brother? You're not doin' so hot.

Sam studiously avoided making eye contact. Five thousand dollars. That was how much his fancy new hearing aids were going to cost. Apparently, their recently acquired health insurance didn't cover them, although Sam's visits to the ENT and audiologist had fallen under the policy.

Even with the aids, the doctor had solemnly informed them, a portion of Sam's hearing had been irrevocably altered. Hearing aids would only enhance sounds at surrounding frequencies, which would help but couldn't correct for the loss. The hearing specialist had shoved a handful of pamphlets in their hands and stressed that there would be a period of adjustment.

Unless...maybe Cas could help? They still hadn't been able to make contact with their wayward angel, and Sam knew that only added to his brother's distress.

"We need to order your hearing aids, Sam. They've got everything they need to make them. All we gotta do is sign off & pay."

"No." Sam's nostrils flared.

"You need them." Sam heard the imploring tone in his brother's voice, but fought against giving in.

"I'll wait."

"For what, Sam? The next disaster to strike? Because our luck ain't so hot. The sooner you adjust to them—"

"No."

"Sammy—"

"Dean, it doesn't make any sense for me to get them." Sam turned to face his brother. "Cas can probably fix this. At least as well as the hearing aids would. We shouldn't waste the money."

Dean ground his teeth and banged a fist on the steering wheel. "And if he can't?"

Sam shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He picked at a loose thread on his flannel overshirt. "Wasn't it you who said we should stop borrowing trouble?"

Dean pulled into a greasy diner and turned off the ignition. He stared at his brother before blowing out a breath. "Damn it, Sam. I just...I hate seeing you like this."

Sam lowered his head, his chestnut locks falling into his face. "I hate being like this," he mumbled from under a curtain of hair.

"Look, I know it sucks, but you need the hearing aids. You almost got hit by a car yesterday." Dean ran a hand through his spiky hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

Sam frowned. "I was thinking—"

"I know," Dean interrupted. "You're thinkin' up a thousand and one excuses for why this isn't a big deal." His troubled green eyes latched onto his younger brother. "Sammy, you're not coping. You're not dealing with this. That's damned dangerous in our line of work. Right now, you're a sitting duck with a target painted on your back. And there's a whole lotta supernatural crap out there that would love to stick it to a Winchester." Dean paused and sighed. "Fine. Let's say Cas can heal you..." Sam looked up and Dean pressed on. "There's no reason for you to suffer in the meantime."

"It's five thousand dollars, Dean."

"Yeah, and we've got an entire fleet of vintage cars plus a home full of junk that we can sell."

Sam's eyebrows peaked. "You've got to be careful with the bunker's artifacts, Dean! You could get hurt or unleash some supernatural curse..."

"Exactly. Which is why I need you to get back to cataloguing what we've got." Dean gave him a wide-eyed stare. It wasn't quite the Sam Winchester puppy eyes, but it came close. "Look, I'm giving you a free chick-flick moment here, dude. Don't push your luck."

Sam inhaled deeply and dropped his shoulders on a sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. But only if you stop nagging me about it."

"You'll try the hearing aids?"

"Yes."

"For two weeks at least."

Sam glared at him. "For the love of Chuck, yes." He furrowed his brows into a bitch face. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

Dean's smile was smug. "I try, little brother, I try.

This chapter is loosely based on my own experiences with audiology testing, paired with conversations with friends who use hearing aids. I've taken a lot of liberties here. Any mistakes are mine.

By no means do I mean to suggest that having a hearing loss makes you damaged or less than. That said, I think the boys would go through a tough period of adjustment, especially given their line of work.

Should Cas heal Sam? Partially heal Sam? Leave him be? Let me know in the comments!