Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing, SandraEngstrom2 and Gredelina1 for helping with the outline, and you all for reading, reviewing and supporting the story.

Chapter Ten

Dean wished he was drunk still.

He wished he was so loaded that his eyes blurred and his head buzzed and normal thinking was an impossibility, because then perhaps he would be able to handle the fact his brother was lying there, expressionless, unresponsive, a shell.

It wasn't the fact that he was unconscious that worried Dean. That he had dealt with a hundred times before, when some fugly had gotten a lucky punch in on Sam, when he'd been thrown into a wall, when he'd been dying. He could handle that, as he'd been able to help him then. He could wait it out, he could shake him till he woke, or he could find an angel to stuff down his throat. That wouldn't work now though, and that was what made this Dean's hell. There was nothing he could think to do.

Sam was lying on the bed where they'd placed him, perfectly indifferent to the movement around him. Dean had insisted they move him from the floor of the war room, but he had quickly realized that was about him not Sam. Sam didn't care that he was lying on soft foam now instead of the hard floor because he was past awareness. He didn't feel the pain Charlie was inflicting. His eyes didn't react to the light that filled his vision when she pulled back an eyelid. He didn't hear them calling him.

He was missing. At least Dean hoped he was still missing because the other option was that he was just unconscious, that the angel hadn't healed him as he had promised, and Sam wasn't waking up because the massive amount of damage there had been back in that hospital when they were telling him Sam was doomed was still there. Because that meant, soon, Sam was going to die and Dean wasn't sure if this time Death would allow himself to be evaded by angel or demon deal. If the guy could kill God, it was pretty much guaranteed that he could best Crowley.

Charlie stepped back from the bed and Dean looked at her hopefully.

"I don't know, Dean," she said in response to his unasked question. "All I know is that he's deeply unconscious."

Castiel turned away from the bed and blew out a harsh breath. "Unconscious," he said scathingly. "I need my grace! If I had it, I could see what is needed."

Crowley strolled into the room then, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "You need to stock better stuff if you want to keep your liver, Squirrel," he said, raising the glass.

Charlie cast him a glare and Crowley raised an eyebrow, goading her, and then peered past her to Sam. Dean felt an irrational urge to step between him and Sam, as if Crowley's now concentrated stare would harm him.

"Well, well, well, Winchester," he said, "What kind of dangerous games have you been boys been playing this time?"

Dean's attention snapped to him. Crowley had demonic perception; maybe he could see what was going on with Sam. "You know what's happened to him?" he asked.

"No. I wouldn't be asking if I knew, now, would I?"

Castiel seemed to catch on at the same moment as Charlie. She gasped, and Castiel asked, "What do you see, Crowley?"

Crowley looked from face to face and smiled. "Wow. You don't even know, do you?"

"What can you see?" Castiel asked in a demanding tone.

"Three piss-scared humans at the moment," he said in a tone of mirth.

"And Sam?" Dean asked.

"Can't see him," Crowley said blithely. "Well, I can see an abused gigantor body, but the moose himself, he ain't in there." He shrugged. "My condolences for your loss."

Dean disregarded the insincere words and fixed on the rest of what Crowley was saying. Sam wasn't in there. He was still lost, which meant there was hope.

"That's why the angel was running the switches then," Crowley went on. "I did wonder how he went from walking corpse to a Men's Health model overnight. One thing… Why didn't Moose cast the angel out himself when the angel started taking over? We all know he's capable of it."

"Sam's not in his body?" Dean asked, ignoring Crowley's question

"Nope," Crowley said. "Can't see a sign of him. I guess that's why he didn't cast out Feathers. Hard to do when you're not actually there."

"Do you know where he is?" Castiel asked hopefully.

"Not a clue," Crowley said cheerfully.

Dean turned away from the demon and looked at Sam again. No, not Sam. Just Sam's body—his living but empty body. What was he supposed to do now? How could he get Sam back when they didn't know where he was?

"Missing," Castiel said in a musing tone.

"Yeah," Dean said in a dead tone. "Gone."

"No," Castiel argued. "If he was gone, he would be dead. There is still something of Sam somewhere as he's living. He's missing. Think what that angel said—'You'll never find him'—He knew where Sam was."

"Oh," Charlie said. "And we just sent him back out into the world to find a new vessel. He could be anyone at all at now…"

"We couldn't have found out even if we'd kept him here," Castiel said. "He wasn't going to tell us willingly, and there's no way we could have made him talk."

"Speak for yourself," Crowley said. "I could have made him talk."

"Without hurting Sam?" Castiel snapped. "No. You could not."

Crowley shrugged. "I'd only have hurt him a little. I'm good at what I do."

"You're not torturing Sam," Charlie said stridently

Crowley rolled his eyes. "No point doing it now anyway, is there? He's not home for visitors." Suddenly, inexplicably, he grinned. "That's not to say you're completely without hope though, is it? You've got Squirrel."

Dean's gaze snapped to the demon. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing is ever truly lost. People just stop looking before they find it. I can't see the moose, and he's not in there, so where is he? He has to be somewhere. Way I see it, you just need to look harder."

Dean was confused. He thought he had done everything possible to find Sam. If he wasn't in the veil or within a demon's perception, where was Dean supposed to look next?

"Dean has looked—" Castiel cut himself off. "Oh."

"Oh what, Cas?" Dean asked. "What are you thinking?"

Crowley answered for him. "You and Sam have your super-fun codependency thing going on. Luckily, it's more than just bad parenting. You're connected."

"Special case…" Dean breathed.

"Soul mates," Crowley corrected. "You have an actual spiritual lifeline connecting the two of you. You could try, I don't know, using it!"

"How?" Dean asked. "What do I do? How do I do it?"

"With difficulty and risk, kinda like Russian roulette with only one empty chamber."

"What's the risk? Charlie asked.

"That he loses himself along with Sam," Castiel said.

Dean disregarded his words. He had already lost himself—without Sam, he wasn't sure who he was anymore. If there was a chance this would work, he would do it.

"You'll need an anchor," Crowley said. "Someone that you trust, so not me, obviously. Someone that's strong enough to tether you."

Dean turned to Castiel. "You up for it?"

Castiel looked uncertain. "You need to have a strong bond of trust in your anchor, and I…"

"You think I don't trust you? I do, Cas. Maybe I don't always show it, but I do. We both do. If anyone's getting Sammy back, it's us. Okay?"

Castiel looked pleased as he nodded. "Yes. I am more than happy to help."

"Okay, what do we need to do?" Dean asked.

"Well, first off, you're going to need to bleed," Crowley said.

Once, when Dean was around ten years old, he and Sam had become blood brothers. They'd seen it on a movie, and it had seemed perfectly sensible to use the tip of Dean's penknife to prick their thumbs and rub them together, making them tied for all time. Neither of them realized they were tied for all time by virtue of the fact they were brothers, as well as a special case, already. It had mattered to them both though, and when Crowley explained what he and Castiel had to do to form the anchor, he thought it was just one more perfect piece of the puzzle slipping into place. It was more than a finger prick, but the message was the same—you and I are in it now forever, you are one of us.

"I should say it, right?" Charlie asked. "Someone should say it. This is all kinds of shady, guys. Surely there's a better, safer, way to bind yourselves than a blood exchange."

Castiel blinked at her and Dean shook his head. "It's magic, Charlie. That generally means things get bloody. Besides, it's for Sam."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I'm sorry."

Dean cut across his palm with his penknife, barely feeling the sting, and pumped his fist to make the blood flow. Castiel hesitated before doing the same, unaccustomed to bleeding at will as Dean and Sam were. When they both had bloody palms, they shook hands and Castiel gripped Dean's tightly as he said his portion of the required Latin. "Tenetur a sanguine."

"Tenetur in vita," Dean finished.

He expected to feel something different, some charge between them, but all he felt was the stickiness of their clasped hands and worry that this was going to fail. He released Castiel's hand and wiped his own on the damp cloth Charlie handed him.

"You sure it worked?" he asked.

"It's a spiritual thing more than physical," Castiel said. "It will work, I am sure. Are you ready?"

Dean nodded and sat down on the bed beside Sam. Castiel picked up the mug of murky brown water with herbs floating on the top from the bedside table and held it out to Dean. "Drink it all."

Dean grimaced. It looked even less appetizing than Missouri's tea. Castiel had explained that it was designed to open his mind the way dream root did, though he would not be sleeping. He would be in a meditative state. He drained it in three swallows and gasped at the bitter taste.

"Just as we discussed," Castiel said. "Deep breaths and try to block everything out but your heartbeat until you feel the change."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to empty his mind, but Sam's face kept coming to the fore, reminding him and taunting him. He pressed his fingers to his own throat, finding his pulse and trying to find it in his body, too. It was faster than usual, stressed, and he wondered how he was supposed to reach anything like a meditative state when he was so wired. Sam's face came to the fore again, younger, happier, and freer than Dean had seen in a long time. Instead of pushing it away, he held onto it, and he felt the change. His heartbeat began to thrum in his ears, slower now. His hand dropped back to his lap and he opened his eyes.

Everything had changed. Charlie and Castiel were still there, he could almost hear them, but the rest of the room was silent but for the sound of his heartbeat. The room seemed shrouded in a kind of mist. He looked around and his eyes fell on his brother where he seemed to hover in the haze.

Sam's face was expressionless, just as it had been before, but that felt wrong to Dean, as if he was sensing something more than what was there.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said automatically. "I'm coming."

His words made no difference to the feeling of wrong that emanated from Sam.

Dean took another breath. "Just show me where you are."

A feeling of warmth spread across his chest, not comforting, more agitating that anything. It worried him. It felt like something was dragging at him, right above his heart. He leaned forward slightly to ease the pressure, and then he saw it. There was a light leading between his chest and Sam's. It was like a rope, twisted tightly and white. Dean's hand reached for it, and the moment it touched, he felt a rush of something like bliss.

"Sammy?"

Sam remained perfectly neutral, but the light burgeoned in his hand, almost like it was reacting to him, searching for him the way he was searching for Sam. He knew, without knowing how, that it was Sam, or at least what was left of him. This light, their connection, was where Sam now lay.

How could he ever leave?

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

The words had no sooner left his mouth than he heard his name being shouted and a felt stinging pain on his cheek. The light, the mist, Sam, disappeared and he was back in the bedroom with Castiel, Charlie, and Crowley standing and Sam on the bed.

The stinging pain had been Charlie slapping him he surmised, because she was rubbing her red palm.

"What the hell?" he asked, rubbing his own cheek.

"We almost lost you," she said accusingly, glaring at Castiel.

Dean looked at Sam and felt a wave of frustration. He had found his brother and they had dragged him away from him.

"What did you see, Dean?" Castiel asked, ignoring Charlie's huffs of annoyance.

"I…" Dean shook his head and tried to make sense of his thoughts. "I found the bond, but I didn't find him. I could only see him there the way I see him here. There was this light connecting us, but it only led to his body. There was nothing that tells me where he is." He raked a hand through his hair.

Castiel looked disappointed. "There was nothing that led you away from his body?"

"No," Dean said angrily, then his voice rose to a shout. "Dammit!"

"What do we do?" Charlie asked Castiel.

"I don't know," he replied. "I assumed Dean would find him somewhere outside of his body, giving us a clue as to what we need to do to bring him back, but if there was only a connection to his body… Sam is truly lost."

Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Or not," Crowley said pointedly.

Dean looked up and saw the demon standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"If you can only see him in his body, doesn't it make sense that maybe he is in his body?"

"But you said you couldn't find him," Castiel said.

"I did say that," Crowley agreed.

"You were lying," Charlie accused.

"No, but just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it's not there."

Dean and Charlie exchanged a glance. Missouri had said the same thing. That didn't explain how they could get him back though.

"You think he's in his body but hidden somehow?" Castiel asked.

"Well, duh, that's what Squirrel saw, isn't it? And as it happens, I know how you can get him out again."

"How?" Dean asked, lurching toward Crowley. "Dammit, how?"

Crowley leered at him. "Well, it's going to take another deal."

So… Crowley to the rescue *snort*

How was it to read? This story has been something of a new experience for me with the soulmates bond, and I'm a little nervous about it. Didn't want it to read like a YA fantasy novel.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx