Sam raked his hands through his mop top locks in frustration as he weeded thorough approximately a hundred websites without a supernatural connection. It had been an hour of intensive online research- point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back. Drooping his head, he let out a thunderous groan.

"I'd say it's going well then. Are you sure Dean said Amadán? Maybe it's the name of a building or som…."

Sam shot Bobby an exasperated look. "Well, so FAR… Amadán is a colloquialism for Irish punk rock that attacks the senses and orchestrates chaos from fans."

"That sounds painful. I'd want to be comatose for that."

"Yeah.." Sam scratched at the stubble that started to shadow upon his baby face. This research was maddening. His fingers nimbly and briskly jumped upon the computer- point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back, point, and click. Finally, Sam smacked his hands together with the thrill of discovery.

"Alright….whew…" Sam sighed. "More along our side of things- Amadán: meaning non-minded. The Amadán is considered a death omen. An Irish faery that can cripple, disfigure, cause instant and complete paralysis, or kill humans with even a faint touch."

"Sounds like Meg has found a new playmate. Any information on how to kill one?"

"Ahhh… No…umh… according to legend, the only way to save a victim of an Amadán's touch is through…..uhhhhhm.. ah…through prayer." Sam's lip quivered and he looked soulfully to Dean.

"That's not going to do us a lot of good when we face Meg and that sucker. I have a friend that is an expert on Celtic legends. She might find some information for us." Sam tossed Bobby the cell phone and he quickly dialed the number.

Sam stood upright, cracked his back loudly, moved away from the computer screen, and flopped down upon the other bed. He turned to survey Dean's slumbering form. His brother looked ingenuous, for a change. Sam could see the child Dean had once been. An involuntary smile sprang upon his lips. Drifting back to the roof top, Sam's words echoed--- Hold on, Dean. Please, God, just let him hold on. Please, GOD PLEASE! Don't let this happen. Please don't let him be gone.--- Sam didn't meditate if it was his brother's fortitudeor something unknown that pulled Dean back. Half praying and half speaking to Dean, he mouthed the words thank you.

Across the room, Bobby was immersed in conversation. "Are you sure?...Always do. Thanks for your help." Bobby flipped closed the phone, turned, and focused squarely on Sam.

"Well?"

"Well, there is only one oral legend, which was passed down from a small Celtic tribe. The only way to kill an Amadán is to bathe it in the blood of a victim."

Sam's eyes grew wide with revulsion as he turned once again to face his brother.

"Sam, you're jumpier than a cat in a room of rockers. There ain't no way, I'm gonna hurt Dean!" Bobby's tone lowered to a supportive fatherly tone. "I need to get a few things. Why don't you get some shuteye and calm down."

"Bobby, I'm sorry. It's just that with Dean….I… I'm…."

"I know. You would think with the freaky shit we've seen… Geez…I didn't think anything could phase us. I'll be back. Salt this door and bar it. I don't want Meg and her girlfriend to surprise you before I'm back." Bobby bolted with one final nod to Sam.

Sam followed Bobby's instruction to the letter. He poured an ample layer of salt upon the door entrance and the window frames, even the small one in the bathroom. Using the small wardrobe to barricade the door, Sam's mind still buzzed with resentment.

Sam's images hovered on the fear of losing Dean. He had never felt so self destructive before. He terrified himself, much less Bobby. If Meg was before him, he would hew her apart with his bare hands. He couldn't decide which apprehension filled him with more trepidation: Dean's death or the darkness within his own soul. The only thing that kept him from faltering in the darkness on that rooftop was the soothing warmth of Dean's breath- the joy of Dean being alive. Now, his mind was filled with the unwarranted persecution of his family. His nostrils flared and the vein in his neck strained.