A/N: - Thanks to my two awesome beta readers Vonnie and Jules, you two are just great!

A/N: - Whoa, I was overwhelmed by the reception to the last chapter. Thank you my friends for sticking with me and leaving such awesome REVIEWS! You all are just FANTASTIC. Love you.


POWER SURGE


It had been two hours.

Dean sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his face.

It had been two hours since he returned home. Two long hours he had been waiting for his brother to wake up. Sam… Sighing exhaustedly Dean got up from his bed and picked the sodden washcloth from the bowl. Sam's fever had risen high and he was sweating profusely. It was almost around 103, last time Dean checked. He had tried to wake Sam numerous times, but his brother remained deeply unconscious. He did not even flinch or make a noise when Dean unwound the bandage from his arm, put some antibiotic on the injury and re-bandaged it. The wound was deep and when Dean removed the white gauze, it was bleeding. Sam had re-opened some of his stitches; must have happened during the argument when Dean grabbed him unknowingly.

Dean flinched at the memory of Sam's injury. It was a gunshot wound. Sam had been shot.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes as the thought of how close he had come to losing his little brother assaulted him. 'Some big brother I am. Sammy was shot, my little brother was shot and I yelled at him! I hurt him again when he was already injured.' Wringing the excess water out of the washcloth, Dean wiped his brother's face and neck before placing the cloth gently on Sam's forehead.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I should've known that something was wrong. I shouldn't have left you alone when I knew you've been suffering from those visions," Dean whispered to his insensate brother and ran his hand through Sam's soft brown hair.

Sam moaned softly and his head lolled on the pillow. Dean waited eagerly, hoping his brother would wake up now but except for that little movement Sam did not show much response.

"Sammy?" Dean was feeling beyond nervous. Why was his brother not waking up? It had been over two hours. Sam had been unconscious since using his 'Jedi-power' in the race to save his big brother from certain death. Dean shuddered at the memory of Sam bending over the roof railing with out-flung arms. Even though Sam had been the one to fling him off the roof in the first place, Dean knew it wasn't the kid's fault. Thankfully Sam had pulled out of the vision just in time to save him.

Dean had witnessed how Sam used his newly discovered power to save him. But he must have pushed far beyond his limits and Dean didn't have any idea how much harm it had done to his brother.

Dipping the almost warm washcloth again into the cold water, Dean gently wiped his brother's chest, arms and neck to make him a little more comfortable. "Some birthday you have had today, huh Sammy?" Smirking mirthlessly, Dean swallowed the tears that had been threatening to choke him as he talked to an unaware Sam about his 'birthday'. "I didn't even get a chance to wish you a happy birthday, little brother!" Carefully gathering Sam's upper body into his arms so he could put some fresh clothes on him, Dean resumed his monologue, "Don't you want you present, birthday boy? Don't you want to see what your big brother has gotten for you?" Propping a couple of pillows against the headboard, Dean settled his limp brother onto them and got up to retrieve some fever-reducer from the first aid kit.

"You know Sammy; you can wake up now, little brother." Putting two Tylenol into a glass, he stirred until those tiny pills dissolved in the water, and settled again at his sibling's side. "I'm not mad at you anymore, Sammy." Dean patted Sam's cheek gently and sighed when the lack of response greeted him once again. Adjusting his little brother's body against his broad chest, Dean made sure that Sam's head rested in the crook of his left arm and placed the rim of the small glass between Sam's slightly parted lips. Dean felt a little relieved to see his brother's natural swallowing reflex was still active and with a little massaging on his throat, he could swallow the diluted medicine water.

After making sure that all the needed meds had gotten into his brother's fever-ravaged body, Dean lowered Sam onto the mattress and settled his head on the pillow so he could sleep a little better. Feeling exhausted, Dean slumped onto his own bed and let the weariness of the whole evening claim his body, mind and soul. He did not even bother to change his clothes; just threw his jacket on the floor and sagged against the lumpy mattress. Glancing at the digital clock which was now reading almost 9.15 p.m., Dean set the alarm so he could wake up in two hours to feed Sam more medicines. He rolled on his side so he could keep an eye on his sick brother. It would have been better if John had been home right now. Not that Dean couldn't take care of his little brother; but those dreadful incidents that had happened tonight were taking a toll on him too. Sighing, Dean let his eyes close as a mumbled plea slipped unconsciously from his lips,

"Dad, I need you, Dad."


Lake View Motel, Milwaukee; Wisconsin. 9.00 p.m.

John Winchester was getting impatient. His hunter buddy had not showed up yet, when he should have been there at least twenty minutes ago. John was a man of his word, if he decided that they should leave for the hunt at 8.30; that meant it had to be 8.30 on the dot. But his pal had not reached him yet, and John was getting fidgety. He just wanted to get rid off this minor hunt as soon as he could. He really wanted to be with his sons, especially Sammy, right now.

Sighing, John sat on the couch and pulled a worn out photo from his wallet. It was a group photo of him, an eleven-year-old Dean and little seven-year-old Sammy being cradled by him. A smile crept across his lips as he stared at the picture. His boys; the treasures of his unsettled life who meant the world to him. John knew he had not given his boy the life every child should live, but his boys never complained. Especially Dean. On the other hand, Sammy… it would be lying if he said that Sam had never complied about some things, but John could not blame him after all. The kid was smart, highly studious and being the inquisitive and emotional one, he always had a tendency to ask whatever popped into his mind. Sometimes, sure Sammy had gotten on his nerves, but John loved that little boy so much. Sam, his baby boy was his life; Sammy, Mary's last present to him, her legacy. And Dean was the born defender; he had sworn to protect his little brother who was his life too. His mother's precious gift to him, whom he had always wrapped under his wings of love and guardianship. Dean was the soldier, Sam was the researcher, and John was proud of the way they had grown; the two strong arms of his, they had been there whenever John needed them and would be always.

A soft knock suddenly interrupted the train of John's thought. Startled, he got up off the bed and tucked the photo back inside his wallet. Picking the Taurus pistol from the table nearby, he cautiously opened the door a fraction and gruffly asked, "Who's this?"

"Winchester, it's me, Crenshaw."

Sighing in relief, John tucked the pistol into his waistband and opened the door to welcome his guest.

"It's about time, Crenshaw. I was beginning to think that you wouldn't come along."

The burly hunter glanced cautiously around the small motel room before continuing, "I've been onto something. Been searching for something."

"You got another hunt?" John asked his former friend as he collected the necessary weapons for the job.

Picking at the scar above his right eyebrow, the demon hunter nodded. "Well, you could say that." Quickly changing the subject, he asked John, "So, ghouls huh!"

"Yeah." Grabbing the backpack full of arsenal, John turned around to face the other hunter.

"How many?"

"Probably two or three. We're gonna smite them off within a second." John stated proudly.

Eliciting a small crooked smile, the hunter also nodded in apprehension. "Yeah, let's go then and send those sons of bitches to hell."

Picking up the keys, John headed towards outside to where his truck was parked, the other hunter trailing in his wake.


Missouri Moseley's residence; Lawrence, Kansas: 11 p.m.

Missouri Moseley had been meditating in her private room after shooing all her customers out of her home. There had always been a queue outside her main door and that was what bothered her the most. But being a good-hearted person as well as a great psychic, Missouri had never offended a single people or said something that could make one heart heavy with grief and other crap. She had always let people believe what they wanted to believe, but that did not mean she had ever lied to anyone. That wasn't her business rules; she always told the truth but in her own way so people would not freak out or do something reckless.

Today, she was not in a very good mood. After getting the sudden phone call from her old friend John Winchester, telling her that his youngest son might be in danger, her concentration had just not been able to focus on anything else.

Inhaling a long, deep, cleansing breath, Missouri once again settled herself down to meditate. But the face of a sweet, innocent kid was still wandering around her sub-conscious mind. The first day she saw Sam Winchester, he was just a baby cradled in his father's lap. The day after Mary Winchester had died in that horrible fire, John came to her home with those little babies and asked for help to find his wife's killer. It was then that she first saw Sam; the beautiful baby was wrapped in a small baby blanket; sleeping peacefully in his daddy's embrace. But there was something different about him. Missouri could immediately sense the aura that had surrounded the little baby was very strong. Stronger than she had ever felt in her whole life, more powerful than any mature person could have in a certain age. She knew at that moment the baby was special, and after she revealed that to the young father, he was momentarily shocked speechless.

"Special? In what way?"

"I can sense his aura, John Winchester. It's very strong and powerful. He's a special child."

"I...I don't understand Ma'am, what…what are you…"

"Don't worry about your baby, John. He's going to be a great man in the future. I can sense his inner powers, his clean soul. He's a great boy, John…but…"

"But…but what Missouri?"

"I can also feel there are some evil forces hovering around him. You need to keep him safe forever. Don't ever let him get out of your sight."

Hugging the sleeping baby more securely to his chest, John pressed his lips to Sammy's soft hair and murmured, "I'll never. He's Mary's boy, Missouri. He's my baby."

Smiling fondly, Missouri continued. "But you need to be careful with him, John. He's different. He's gonna be more vulnerable when his psychic powers…"

"Wait…wait…wait…" John could not believe what he had just heard. 'What psychic powers?' Swallowing hard, John stuttered, "W-what are you talking about? What psychic powers?"

"Sammy's got some special powers in him. When he turns eighteen and becomes an adult, his power will start developing."

John's head was spinning. "No, no, no, no, no, it can't be true. My boy can't be…"

"No Missouri. Sammy can't be a psychic. He's normal, he's my baby boy, Missouri. He's my baby," John almost sobbed.

"John, listen to me." Missouri tried to console the stricken man. "He IS normal. You son is perfectly normal. You know, people born with these kinds of special powers, it could be God-gifted. See, I'm also one of them. So, are you afraid of me now just because I've got psychic powers?"

"No, I just…" John seemed to have lost his speech. "…you said evil forces…"

"Yes, they're still hovering around your boy. You need to watch out for him, protect him from whatever tries to get in his way."

"But these powers…aren't they supernatural? Don't tell me that in the future I might have to…if he can't control…" Tears were now running freely down his cheeks. 'Why Sammy? Why his baby boy?'

"NO, no John. Don't even think about that. Nothing bad's gonna happen to Sammy as long you and Dean are around him. The powers in him are his own. He'll just need to focus…"

"Focus?"

Suddenly Missouri flinched, her train of thought breaking as something flashed before her eyes. It was not clear, but she distinctly felt someone in pain; someone very close to her heart.

Putting both forefingers to her temples, Missouri concentrated, trying to detect the source of the painful transmissions.

"Oh holy God, Sam!"

Missouri sprang from her seat as fast her heavy body allowed and went to the corner where her ancient landline phone sat on a small table. Before she could pluck the receiver from the cradle, the phone rang and she knew who the caller was without hearing the voice.

"Dean? What's wrong with Sam?"


Almost half an hour earlier:-

Dean startled awake as a loud crash sounded in the silent room. Scrambling into a sitting position on the bed, he switched the tube light on, immediately spotting the night-lamp that had fallen to the floor and shattered into million pieces.

"What the hell?"

How could the lamp fall from the table? Dean looked at the tightly closed window, trying to find the source of the mishap, but his concentration broke as a groan came from the opposite twin bed where his little brother was currently lying.

"Sammy?"

Quickly getting up off the bed, Dean almost ran towards his brother and placed a comforting hand on Sam's profusely sweating forehead.

"You waking up, kiddo?" Dean asked. Muttering a curse when he got no response from his sick sibling, Dean leaned toward the nightstand and picked up the water bowl. 'He's still got a high fever. Gotta cool him down.' While Dean was squeezing the excess water from the sodden washcloth, he heard Sam moan again. This time it was quite loud and he was mumbling something.

Putting the bowl onto the nightstand again, Dean leaned over his sleeping brother and saw Sam was rolling his head from side to side on the pillow. The beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead and he was gasping.

"Uhh…no…nonono…ahhh…"

Suddenly, the light started to flicker and then steadied again. Frowning, Dean quickly pulled the EMF meter from the drawer and checked for any spiritual activity in their house. But there was nothing. The room was completely clean, secured by the thick salt lines across every door and window.

"No, no Dad…please…"

'Dad!'

Dean turned to his brother with shock as Sam muttered their Dad's name with distress. 'Oh my God, Sammy must be having a vision.'

"NOOOOO…"

Suddenly Sam screamed, his back arching off the bed as though someone was torturing him. Thin arms flailed against the mattress as the young boy writhed helplessly.

"Sammy?"

Before Dean could reach to his brother's bed, a rattling noise suddenly filtered into the room from out of nowhere. Dean froze in mid-step, trying to work out what the hell was going on. Cautiously, he scanned the whole room, his eyes widening in shock when he saw that almost every loose object in the immediate vicinity was starting to rattle as if some invisible force was shaking them. The jug, glass, books and various other items that had been piled haphazardly on the table began to fall, accompanied by a constant crashing and thumping sound.

Sam's body bucked again as another wave of vision-induced pain ravaged him and he almost screamed in agony.

Dean felt something like a wave of invisible water flow around the small motel room and hit him, knocking him off-balance as it passed through him. He stumbled and landed hard on his back. The tube light was flickering in and out constantly now, every small object in the room flying around like bullets.

"SAM, CALM DOWN! SAMMY!" Dean screamed, trying hard to calm his clearly not-in-himself and unaware-of-his-viciously- surging-power brother, but failed to reach the pre-occupied young man.

"SAM, LISTEN MY VOICE, SAMMY! YOU'VE GOTTA CALM DOWN, SAAAM!"

"NAHHH…PLEASE NOOOOOO…" Sam screamed again, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly the rattling and shaking took a turn to the worse. Every airborne item stilled before rising at least a foot higher. And then the storm began in earnest.

Dean watched in horror from his recumbent position on the floor, his gaze on the potential missiles hanging in the air. But he didn't stay that way for long as without warning, the table clock flew past his face, almost clipping his left ear. If he had not ducked in time, it would have left an ugly bruise on his face.

Dean hastily crawled closer to his brother, taking shelter beside Sam's bed. During his little trip, he got slammed a couple of times in the head and back by some flying object. Dean did not have any idea what sh*t those were; he was too busy making sure he didn't get his head cracked open by something harder than his thick skull. Cowering by the bed, he couldn't stop the feeing of desperation and uselessness welling over him. He couldn't stand to see his brother suffering like this; every fiber of his being yearned to comfort the boy. But, with the freaky 'stuff storm' going on around him, he couldn't even lift his head; left alone take care of his brother. He needed help; someone who could assist him in solving this problem.

Sammy needed help.

Dean shoved one hand into his jeans pocket and pulled his cell phone out. "Thank God I didn't get undressed tonight." Flipping the phone open, he almost hit the speed dial for his father's number, but then something clicked in his mind and he cut the call.

"Nonono, Dad can't help in this matter. We need someone else." Scrambling through the phonebook, he spotted the number of the old and wise psychic- Missouri Moseley.

Several agonizing seconds later, the phone at the other end was being picked up and he wasn't surprised when Missouri asked the very first question after receiving the call-

"Dean? What's wrong with Sam?"

Dean's voice was trembling badly with fear and anxiety. "I…I don't kn-know, Mi-Missouri! He was unconscious and next thing I know, he was having a vision."

"Vision?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Dean flinched as something crashed against the nightstand near his foot and broke instantly.

"What's the noise, Dean? What's happening?" Missouri sounded anxious too.

"That's why I called you, Missouri." Dean's voice was cutting in and out as the rattling noise grew louder. "It's Sam's…Sam's power. It's got outta control…" The hideous din of the 'stuff storm' increased, making it almost impossible to hear.

"What? Powers?" Missouri gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. 'Oh, that poor boy'. Holding the receiver more tightly with both hands now, she almost screamed.

"Dean, I need you to listen me very carefully. You gotta get Sam to 'focus' onto something, you understand?"

"What? Missouri, I can't hear ya!"

The roaring noise within the room drowned out every other sound. God knew what the other inhabitants of the motel were making of this disturbance, Dean thought to himself. But he did not have time for this; he had a power-surging little brother to save from whatever was trying to hurt him. And this time, Dean was facing the most crucial test, because this time…it was 'Sam' himself from whom he needed to be protected. Dean had no clue how to rescue his brother from the trap of his own powers. All he knew was that if Sam could not control his growing abilities, it would most likely kill him and Dean could never let that happen…ever.

Missouri's disjointed voice crackled through the phone.

"You…ne…foc…Dea…Sam…ha…fo…"

"What, Missouri? I can't…can't hear you." Dean was almost screaming his lungs out but the roaring-howling of the 'inter-room Sammy-Jedi-Power storm' was too strong.

"Bre…break…he… … …"

Suddenly the cell phone flew from Dean's hand and crashed into the opposite wall.

That was the final straw for the panicked young hunter. "Screw the power surge…" Heaving himself up off the floor against the force of the supernatural storm, Dean clumsily gained his feet. "…Sammy needs me right now aaannnnd…" Dragging his body against the heavy force field, Dean bent over the bed where Sam was writhing in what seemed to be extreme pain. Hell, he WAS in extreme pain, the worried elder brother thought silently, having been caught in a horrible vision and unconsciously surging his inner power – that wasn't exactly a freaking dance party. "…screw Missouri, I'm gonna get you outta your own power prison, Sammeh…" Dean deliberately ignored the impact as something hard hit the side of his head and made him see some wonderful multicolored spots before his eyes, but he shook off the pain and perched on the edge of Sam's bed.

Sam was gasping painfully; a strange, strangled noise coming form his throat. His neck was arching off the pillow so hard that the cords of his throat were clearly visible. Both fists clutched handfuls of the bed sheets and he was sweating profusely.

Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder and yanked the boy towards his chest. He didn't know if it was wise to jolt Sam out of the vision, but he could not watch his brother's pain anymore. Dean felt another hard bump against his back, but did not react with as much a flinch. He was a hunter for God's sake and he wouldn't give a rat's ass at those small bumps.

"SAM! WAKE UP. SNAP OUTTA THIS SAMMY. THIS IS AN ORDER, SAMUEL WAKE UP!" Dean shook his almost unresponsive sibling; Sam's head bobbing loosely up and down with the violent movement.

"AHHHHHHHH…" Another agonized grunt came out of Sam's mouth. Dean immediately cupped the back of Sam's head and pressed the boy's face securely into the crook of his own neck as another surge of the power storm sent objects flying around him.

"SAM, WAKE UP DAMNIT! WAKE UP."

"NOOOOOOOOOO…"

Sam let out a guttural, blood-curdling scream and shoved Dean away from him. Dean tumbled onto the mattress, watching worriedly as Sam fell back on the opposite side of the bed. But then he noticed the most important thing – the power storm had stopped. Dean scanned the whole room with unsure glances, not quite willing to believe the evidence of his own eyes. But it was true- as soon as Sam had screamed and collapsed again, the howling-growling supernatural hurricane had stopped instantly, all the loose debris in the air crashing to the floor.

Sam was moaning again, but this time he seemed to be waking up. Without losing another precious second, Dean leapt up and leaned over his little brother. Brushing some wayward sweat-drenched hair from Sam's pasty white fever-hot forehead, Dean asked softly, "Sammy, you with me, little brother?"

Sam rolled his head slightly towards his sibling's voice and opened his eyes to mere slits, his brow furrowing with the effort to focus. As soon his gaze fell upon his big brother, Sam swallowed nervously, unable to keep his tears at bay. His eyes filled and overflowed, his chest hitching.

Seeing his brother crying, Dean felt his heart clench with grief and pain. He could never stand Sam's tears. Wiping the heavily flowing tears away from his brother's eyes, Dean cooed soothingly, "Its okay Sammy. I gotcha'. I gotcha' baby brother, nothing bad's gonna happen to you now."

Sam hiccupped as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He could not bear what he saw in his vision. Seeing his 'own death vision' was bad, but what he had seen just now…was worse. Sam could stand his own death, but…

"De…Dean?"

"What it is, Sammy? Why are ya crying?"

"Dea…it's Dad."

"What's with Dad, Sammy?"

Fear gripped Dean with an icy hand. Sam just had experienced a vision and now he was talking about their dad. Dean had almost drowned in horror when Sam had told him on the school roof that he had seen his own death in a vision, but he had sworn to himself that he could never let it happen because he would never let Sam get out of his sight ever again. But Dad? What could have happened? What had Sammy seen?

"Sammy? Dad what?"

"Dad…he – he's DEAD."


TBC


"It's too late for you to make me stay. No, I won't stay. So, I'm running away, I'm leaving this place…" LOL…

The song's not mine, it belongs to Midnight Hour. But seriously, I should run away right now… I don't wanna die.

Sorry for the cliffy… but I "PROMISE" I'll update shortly. Let me know what you think about this chapter. Your reviews mean the world to me.