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"Stairs," Sam said instantly, "The power's gone haywire, we don't need to be trapped with her in a stalled elevator."

"Three flights." Dean said flatly.

Sam glared at him. "I can handle three flights of stairs."

"You look like you're going to fall over and you can't focus on anything for more than a few minutes."

"I'm fine," Sam said. "She might be back at any moment. Let's just go."

For a moment Dean looked as though he might argue, but then he waved Sam into the stairwell. "You first, princess."

"In case I see her?"

"No," Dean said, "In case you have another fainting spell."

Sam punched him lightly in the shoulder as he walked by and started upward. Climbing the stairs was hard. He tried to set a steady pace, but it was more difficult than it should have been to keep moving one foot in front of the other. About three quarters of the way up it felt like there was a rock lodged in his lungs, and he could feel something wet trickling through the layers of gauze on his neck. The infection was getting worse, and he was going to try his hardest to hide that from Dean, at least until there was medical help available.

Dean came up beside him and put an arm behind his shoulders, giving him support. "Almost there."

Sam nodded, leaning on his brother. They made it to the top and into the hallway.

The paint evaporated off the walls in a puff of smoke. Walls dropped away, Dean disappeared. Grass sprouted and unfurled from the dirt. There was a loud crack and a black branch emerged from the ground, and the dead tree slowly wound its way from underneath. Two long coils of rope were attached to the one limb, and they were rocking slightly as the tree rose from the ground. Sam found himself unable to look away, and a tangled mass of black hair rose up with a sucking sound, pulled by the tree and caked with dirt. Then her eyes, red gimlets staring right at him, and her hands, gripping the swing so tightly that blood dripped down her wrists. She opened her mouth and screamed. A torrent of water flowed between her lips and pelted right at him—

The world pinged back, and he was standing in the hallway, leaning against Dean.

"Sign says the Children's Ward is right down this hall," Dean said, glancing at him as though nothing had happened. He saw his expression and froze. "What is it?"

"I just…" he trailed off, "You didn't see that?"

Dean looked at him anxiously. "See what?"

Sam groaned. "Hallucination."

Dean swore. "Okay, let's just keep moving." He walked forward, not releasing his grip around Sam's shoulders. He paused. "Are you…wet?"

Sam looked down at his shirt. There was a huge dark spot in the middle, and he moved his free hand down to touch it. "Water," he said.

Dean looked at the spot like it might morph into a demon. "Uh…silly question: where did it come from?"

Sam laughed helplessly. "The hallucination."

Dean started walking again, taking Sam with him. "Hallucinations don't let you bring back souvenirs."

"Would you two hurry the hell up?"

"Great," Dean muttered, "This guy again." He eased Sam into one of the chairs in the waiting room. "Be right back. Don't hallucinate."

Sam glared at him.

"On the desk again…no, the other desk, damn it."

Dean finally spotted the radio lying inside an old box under the main desk and carried it over to Sam. He sat it on the table in front of them.

"Okay. Now what you need to do is—"

"Shut up," Dean said sharply. Sam's head shot up in confusion, but Dean ignored him. "I want answers before we do anything."

"There's no time—"

"Look, Snake Fist, tell us what we're dealing with so we can waste this bitch. We can handle it, we hunt ghosts for a living, okay?"

"I know that."

Dean paused. "You know?"

"Yeah. I know everything. I know about you and Sam, and that your mother Mary died in your nursery when you were little. I know that you hunt the supernatural, and I know about how your father John died and sold his soul to save you. Most importantly for this context, I know all about Sam's psychic powers."

Dean's expression had gone wooden. Sam leaned forward. "How…the hell…do you know any of that?" he hissed furiously.

"I've got your file open right in front of me. 'Samuel Winchester.' Everything's recorded in here and organized linearly so it's easy to navigate the information—"

"Stop talking!" Dean shouted at him finally, "Why do you have a file on Sam?"

"That's…classified."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Dean raged, "Why do you know all that?"

"Project Origin."

"What is it?" Sam demanded.

"I shouldn't say."

"What is it?" Sam asked again.

"I can't tell you."

"Don't give me that bullshit, what the hell is it?" Dean snapped.

"I can't-"

"Now!"

Snake Fist sighed. "Project Origin is a top secret government project, developed in order to cultivate young individuals with telekinetic gifts so that they can psychically control replica soldiers."

There was a long pause. "Replica soldiers?" Sam said, trying to grasp onto something.

"They're cloned soldiers designed by Armacham Technology Corporation. They were genetically engineered to be telepathically controlled. Damn popular idea too, because these super soldiers wouldn't have any family ties or emotional conflicts. Go into hell itself if commanded to."

Sam ran a hand over his face. "And Alma?"

"She was supposed to control them. She had the strongest telekinetic signature of all the kids they were tracking. But she didn't like being used and she hated the Tank, which was where they kept her. In short, they couldn't manipulate her and the whole thing blew up in their faces."

"What then?" Dean asked apprehensively.

Snake Fist grunted. "You're not gonna like this part."

"I don't like any of it," Dean hissed back, "What happened next?"

"They went back to their database of candidates that they'd been monitoring…uh…"

"Go on…" Dean said darkly.

"Okay, look. Sam's telekinetic signature actually tops Alma's. He was almost chosen the first time around, but his power is mostly raw and buried and she's able to control hers…and they thought that was the deciding factor."

Sam stared at the radio for a long moment. He stood up and walked over to the opposite wall slowly, and then walked back. Dean was watching. He ignored him. "I almost got abducted by the government?"

"Yes."

"How old was I at the time?"

"Ten."

Dean hissed. "What the hell? You can't just abduct kids. Dad and I would have hunted down any son of a bitch that took Sam!"

"They planned to fake his death. Actually already had it set up. You were all going on a hunt in Keystone State Park after a werewolf, and they were gonna snatch Sam when you left him alone and 'safe' at the cabin. After you had searched for a few days they planned to put a heap of shattered, blood stained bones in the area from a body that was about Sam's height and build."

Sam looked at Dean. Dean looked like he was about to rip the radio to shreds. He sat back down and moved his knee so that it was touching his brother's. "Didn't happen," he whispered.

"You're upset. I get that."

"You have no idea how upset I am," Dean said, his voice calm and controlled. "If you were here, I would rip you apart."

"Well, you could, but then you'd be up the creek without a paddle cause I'm the only one that can help you two right now. Especially since Sam's been chosen as Alma's replacement."

"Replacement?" Dean snapped, fists clenched.

Sam cut in before Dean could start yelling. "How do we get out of here?"

"Okay." Snake Fist said, and there was a rustle of paper. "You need to go to room 408 in the Children's Ward. When you're in there, you'll find a small button on the wall underneath a poster about childhood asthma. When you push it, it should lower the floor of the room to hidden lab underneath the basement where Armacham Technology Corporation used to do…testing."

"Underground lab? What kind of sick psychos are you people?" Dean asked heatedly.

Snake Fist ignored him. "There's an old tunnel in the east sector that was blocked off for repairs, and you should be able to use that tunnel to get out of the building. Assuming that Alma doesn't get to Sam first."

"She won't," Dean said darkly.

"Fingers crossed and all that. I'll be waiting for you outside the tunnel. And…do you happen to have guns or ammo?"

"We've got one pistol." Sam said.

"Shit. Okay, when you get down to the testing area, look around for weapons first. You'll have to pass through the holding area to get to the tunnel, and Alma's turned off the power locks on the cages in there so you'll have to kill the specimens."

"Specimens?"

"Yeah…try to find big guns."

"Why? What are they—"

"You hunt monsters for a living, you'll be fine. I'd give you a…sixty percent survival rate, and that's taking into account that Sam's infection's spreading and he's probably going to be feverish soon and hallucinate more often."

Sam winced. "I'll be fine."

"I'm counting on that. Remember the guns, get to the tunnel. Snake Fist out."

The radio buzzed a moment and then went to static. Dean snatched it off the table with a growl and hurled it into the nearest wall.

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