Sam sat in the armchair by the window of the hotel room, eyes closed, breathing soft and regular. The watery February sunlight streamed in through the opened drapes, highlighting his long, mahogany hair with vivid glints of red. He didn't notice it, aside from the faint warmth on his face: his attention focused inwards, on practicing, over and over, locking up his power. He used various visualizations, ranging from a simple image of tidying up a kitchen, putting things away, including the power, to the original vignette Rowena had implanted of a heavy, solid safe.

He and Rowena had conducted many sessions of the guided hypnosis; by now, conscious control had become easy for him. It was the unconscious control that was still a problem.

Rowena had explained the process, tiny, elegant hands fluttering to emphasize points as she spoke: "What we're doin' here, Samuel, is tryin' to build in an automatic response. The problem, d'y'see, is that when y'start dreamin', y'need to - to - be aware that ye're dreamin', and be able to distinguish when 'tis a dream of using the power versus, say, a wet dream." She gave him a tiny, amused smile, then jabbed a finger at him. "That's when the conditioning kicks in."

He chewed on the idea, then said, "So...like lucid dreaming?"

"Aye! Exactly!" she exclaimed.

Now, here he was, able to cage his power up at a moment's notice. Consciously. It was the lucid dreaming portion that escaped him. He cracked his eyes, let them accustom to the light pouring over his face, then opened them all the way with a sigh. He stood up, scrubbing his hands up and down his face, then running them through his hair and pushing it back. This was going nowhere. Until he could make the link while dreaming...in the meantime, Rowena had warded the hotel room against fire and wind, so at least he could sleep and dream without worrying about burning the hotel down. He sighed again, shoulders slumping, then straightened back up with an effort. Maybe a shower would stop this endless gnawing at the problem that consumed him. He started to the bedroom, kicking the small table by the chair out of his way with a soft, frustrated snarl.

He paused at the bedroom door, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light; the drapes were closed. He glanced at the bed, a small smile crossing his face at the sight of Rowena sprawled across it. As if his standing there was a signal, her eyes slit open, then she yawned, sat up, and stretched like a cat, back arching and head tilting back. She looked at him with a coy smile, wagging her eyebrows.

"And there you are again, giant, always the early riser!" She shuddered. "I don't know how you do it."

He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and gave her a sardonic smile. "Force of habit. When you're fighting the monsters of the world, you don't have the luxury of sleeping in and waking up slowly."

She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Now, see, why would one want to become a hero if it means having to wake up early all the time?" She slid back to prop herself against the mountain of pillows, crossed her arms, and eyed him narrowly. "And, so? Were y'able to be aware durin' the dreams last night?"

He frowned and shook his head, once, lips pressed together. His fist dug into his hip as he rubbed it without thought. She peered at him, an eyebrow tilted up.

"Ach. It will come. Give it time."

A muscle jumped by his jaw. "I've given it time!" he muttered, glowering at her. She waved his protest away.

"A few days of practice. Pshhhh. What, are you thinkin' these things should come easy?!" She chuckled. "Witchery is hard work, Samuel. It's not like you have a magic wand, and suddenly, poof!, y'know it all! Disney made everyone have unreasonable expectations." She sniffed.

He gritted his teeth and jerked away from the doorframe. "I'm taking a shower." He knew he was being unreasonable, but it was damned frustrating.

He emerged from the bedroom, toweling his hair dry, to find Rowena perched on the chair he had abandoned, silhouetted against the sunlight. Yet another sumptuous breakfast was spread out on the table.

"And are things better now, giant?" She waved a lazy hand at the food. "Your porridge awaits. And fruit. Such a fussy one y'are." She bit into a croissant, tongue flicking out to capture the flaky crumbs and gave him a slow smile. Well. At least she had learned his tastes. He started to the table, giving his hair one last rub then dropping the towel to his shoulder. He paused as he was passing her. Her light scent captured him, and the sun gleaming on her alabaster shoulders made him itch to stroke the smooth skin.

He leaned on her chair, forearms resting on the back, fingertips brushing her shoulders. He watched her skin quiver with a lopsided smile, and leaned further in to brush her neck with a kiss. "The oatmeal can wait," he murmured. She leaned her head back, her long red curls sliding down between them. He didn't trust her, oh, no, and he wasn't sure if he even liked her, but she made his blood sing and his breath catch. He buried a hand in the luxurious hair, pulled her head back against him, and began exploring.

A scream erupted from the hotel hallway. Sam froze. Another scream.

His hunting instincts kicked in, and he was running to the door without a second thought, hand reaching behind his back for his knife. He yanked the door open and saw, down the hallway, a woman struggling to escape her attacker beside an open hotel room door. She kicked and clawed at her attacker - a small, balding, mousy looking man who growled and snarled as he slammed her against the wall beside the door again and again. Blood dripped from his mouth, and the woman's arm was bleeding.

Sam darted a look back at Rowena, standing by the table with an alarmed hand at her throat. "Call hotel security!" he yelled hoarsely, then ran down the hall, flipping his knife over so he could hit with the hilt. He cocked his fist back as he ran, and hit the man with both his own force and the energy of his run, sending his staggering. The woman slid down the wall, sobbing; he reached out a hand, jerked her upright, pushed her toward the door and snarled, "In! Get inside!" She gave him a dazed look, then nodded, and fell into the room. He grabbed the door and pulled it shut, turning to face the attacker, who had lurched upright again. The man broke into a stumbling run aimed directly at him.

In the background, he could hear Rowena talking on the phone, voice raised. This shouldn't be happening. Sam had hit the guy with everything he had; he should be out cold on the floor. But there he was, eyes glazed, bloody mouth twisted in a growl, picking up speed as he headed back toward him. The attack on the woman morphed into an attack on him, and suddenly Sam was using his long arms and full strength to keep the crazed attacker at arm's length. He hooked a leg behind one of the man's legs and flipped him to the floor, crashing down on him, using his body weight to try to pin him down.

He heard the ping of the elevator, and risked a quick glance up. Men in hazmat suits piled out of it and rushed down the hall to them.

Hazmat suits?!

"Gimme a hand, here!" he shouted, still struggling to hold the guy down. The men - five of them - came to a stop, guns drawn. One took careful aim and shot the crazed man in the head. Then the guns swiveled to point at him.

Sam froze in shock. No hesitation: they had just shot the guy! He eyed the five of them, panting to catch his breath, and very slowly, very carefully, raised his hands palm outward in front of him. Their intense focus on him sent a shiver down his back.

"Okay. It's okay. He's down." He paused, then said, hesitating, "I'm just gonna stand up here, now." He inched upward, hands still up, barely breathing as he straightened up.

"Blood!" one of the men shouted. "He's got blood on him!" The five guns, which had sunk down to point at the floor, came back up as one, aimed at his heart.

"Samuel!" Rowena's alarmed voice rang out. A couple of the men glanced behind him at her.

This is crazy.

He let one hand drift down to wipe the blood on his arm off. "Not mine," he said. "See?" He pushed back the sleeve to display an uninjured arm. "His." He started to back up, back toward Rowena's room. The guns sank again.

"Well. Okay, I guess. But...Sorry, buddy, you're under quarantine now." One of the men absently tried to brush his hair back, encountered the hazmat suit helmet, and dropped his hand back to his side.

"Quarantine - ?"

The man keyed his walkie-talkie with his bulky gloved hand. "Yo, Johnny! Another one. Body bag on 17, dude, and antiseptic spray. And set up the perimeter for the whole hotel." He returned his attention to Sam. His face, obscured by the helmet, looked lined and weary. "Yeah. I'm putting the hotel under lockdown. Hope you don't have anywhere to go anytime soon..."

Sam just stared at him.

"Man. Don't you read the news? This disease - whatever it is - it's goin' through the city like wildfire. So, sit tight, enjoy your time with your pretty lady there - " He jerked his head at Rowena, standing in the hotel room door. "Cuz you're stuck here for a while." He pointed with his foot at the dead body on the floor. "And pray you don't end up like this guy." He turned away, dismissing Sam from his mind. Sam watched him for a moment, then turned and walked back to Rowena.

He grabbed her elbow, pushed her into the room, closed the door, and sank back against it, face grim.

"We have a problem," he said.

When the traffic thinned out on the highway, Danielle pressed down on the gas pedal and whooped. The car sped up noticeably. Crowley flinched. David murmured from the back seat, "Miss Danielle. I do believe it would be prudent to not draw attention to ourselves by...um...speeding."

"Davis, I love ya, you know that," Danielle sang out. "But sometimes you're a real wet blanket!" She gunned the engine. The car sped up behind another in the right lane, and Danielle yanked the wheel left, propelling the car into the passing lane just long enough to pass, then yanked it back again.

Hey! Davis is right! Slow down, you crazy person, you!

~~aw, c'mon. relax. i'm only going 95!~~

Crowley flicked a glance at the speedometer, paled, and closed his eyes. His fingers dug into the buttery soft leather of the car seat. Danielle cast him a scornful look.

"Dude, for the King of Hell, you're a real coward."

"I got where I am by having a very healthy respect of dangerous situations," he grated out, eyes still closed. "This...this is a dangerous situation. Slow down!" he bellowed.

Danielle didn't respond; her eyes were glued to the rear view mirror. She heaved a sigh, let her foot lift up from the accelerator, and, when the car had slowed down enough, pulled over to the side. The police car that had followed her with the lights blazing pulled in behind her.

"Oops."

Crowley opened his eyes, darted a look around, and groaned when he saw the cop car. "'Oops,' she says," he growled.

Okay, girl, I'm taking over for a few here. I don't think your driving style is going to win any prizes from that nice young policeman.

~~damn. sorry!~~

We all told you you were going too fast. Now let me clean up your mess.

Dani watched as the policeman walked up by the side of the car, grinding her teeth. "Registration and insurance," she snapped at Crowley, waving a hand at the glove box. He gave her a quick look through narrowed eyes, nodded, and opened it, rummaging around. "I'm going to risk a quick use of power," she added. Crowley nodded again and handed her the documents, along with a hundred dollar bill. She shot him an irritated glance, and shoved the money back at him. "Seriously?!"

He shrugged. "It works sometimes, pet..."

"Gah." She rolled down the window.

The policeman stood silently beside the window for a while, arms folded. Dani blushed. He was really good at using body language, she thought. Finally, he pulled off his sunglasses and pointed at her with them. "Ma'am. Do you know how fast you were going?!"

A chat, evidence of remorse and shame, and a tiny push with her power resulted in him letting them off with a warning. As he pulled the police car back onto the highway, Crowley's town car was filled with a heavy, disapproving silence.

"Seventy-five, Innie-Me," Dani gritted out. "No more. Or else I'll just take over and we'll putter along at fifty or so because I've never driven on a highway. Got me?" Crowley muttered agreement.

~~yeah, yeah, i gotcha. i said i was sorry!~~

Dani sank down again. Danielle mumbled, "Sorry, guys," and pulled back onto the road.

Dean's head jerked up at the sound of gravel crunching in the cabin's driveway. He was up and out the door before Cas had lifted his head from his latest book, striding to Charlie's car. When she got out, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Hey," she mumbled against his chest.

"Hey, kiddo." He released her and held her away from him, scanning her face. "Everything all right?"

She gave him a half-smile, shrugging. "Well, I'm alive, and here, so I guess that goes down in the 'okay' column..." He pulled her in for another hug, then let her go, and turned to the back of the car.

"Where's your stuff? Is that it?" He gestured at the duffle bag on the back seat.

She stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets, shoulders hunched up. "Yeah. I just kinda grabbed what I thought I couldn't live without, y'know."

He grabbed the duffle and angled a look at her. She sounded...well, not her usual self. Her voice was sad and tired, and she had a slight frown. "How bad is it?"

She shrugged again. "I dunno, Dean! I mean, if the numbers are right - well, it sucks. And Doli couldn't spare the time to bring me here, and that's kinda scary, she says the Reapers are working overtime - well, not 'overtime', she doesn't really know what that is, but they're working really hard, and have brought in extra Reapers, and she looked so tired!" She looked over his shoulder and her face brightened. "Hey, Cas!"

"Charlie," he said, with an affectionate smile.

Dean slung her duffle over his shoulder and started back to the cabin door. "Okay, then, well, at least you're here, and safe, and we can start working on what to do." Charlie and Cas fell in behind him, Charlie's arm around the angel's waist and his around her shoulders.

"Dean, I just don't know what we can do!" she said. "Dude, it's a disease! It's not a monster! Monsters you can kill! This - " She stopped and gestured wordlessly. He narrowed his eyes at her and nodded, once, then held the door open.

"We'll figure something out. We always do," he reassured her.

"Dani thinks it's Lucifer," she said, moving over to the couch and flopping down on it. "What if he - what if he starts the disease up in more places? What do we do then?" She leaned her elbows on her knees, put her head in her hands, and her shoulders slumped. Dean hated seeing her look so defeated. He sat down next to her, pulled her into another hug.

"Well. If it's Luci, then we have a monster to fight, right? And that's what we're experts at. First, we'll put out the word to look for more research labs starting up. Back where we were a few months ago, right?" She gave him a shaky laugh. "If he's actually doing things..." His voice trailed off and his lips folded into a thin line. "That means he's found another vessel." They all looked at one another. "So we find him and boot him out of that one."

"Or find a way to return him to the Cage," Cas said, expression grim.

Dean bared his teeth in a wolffish smile. "Or find a way to gank the dick, once and for all."

Danielle bent over the map spread out on the hood of the car, huddling into her jacket to keep the wind out. Anyone walking past would think she was talking to herself, but she was arguing with Dani.

"I think we went this way." She traced a road on the "Guide To The Adirondacks" map.

I don't think so. If that's the one, where did we turn off? Remember, the cabin's on an unpaved road. I don't see any unpaved turn-offs on that road, only paved ones. We got directly off a paved road onto the unpaved one, no turns, after we left the town.

Danielle chewed her lips, frowning. "Dammit!" she muttered. "It seemed so easy!"

"Might I make a suggestion, ladies?" Crowley leaned against the car, hands in his overcoat pockets, legs crossed at the ankles, smirking into the distance. Danielle glared at him.

"Sure, PB! You've never driven here at all, you've always flitted, so I'm sure your input will be useful!" Her voice dripped sarcasm.

He mimed an air kiss at her. "Love you too, Danielle. You'd be surprised at how useful I can be. My suggestion? Call Squirrel and ask him for directions."

Danielle opened her mouth to argue, stopped, and closed it with a click and another glare. He flicked an ironic eyebrow at her.

~~your fancy king of hell can be an utter asshole sometimes. especially when he's right.~~

He does have that effect sometimes. He likes to rub your nose in it.

~~what kind of a guy is he, saying we should ask for directions?! asshole.~~

She ground her teeth and dug out their phone.