Disclaimers - really... How many times do you have to hear it? Would you believe me if I said I did own Supernatural? bah! Bureaucratic red tape...

Chapter 12

The stage was set. The players were in their assigned positions. Thomas just had to conduct the final act. Simple. He was, after all, a god.

Sam was trapped in his own mind. That was where the yellow-eyed demon wanted him. Thomas had learned, from the works of art he created, exactly how to build the mood and environment that would break the young hunter down. And if he "accidentally" went too far and the boy killed himself, well, no matter to him.

Dean was in the hospital room alone, for all intents and purposes, and defenseless. They hadn't brought any weapons with them. He should be easy enough to dispose of. And if Thomas was able to possess Sam's body to carry out the act, well, more fun for him. Physical pain did not satisfy him as much as emotional pain. He figured Sam trying to kill Dean would cause emotional pain for both hunters. He had been short on time for this plan, so he'd take what he could get.

Kaitlyn, too, was right in her proper place. She was spelunking, while trying to find the lighthouse that shone so brightly. Her failure to save the young men, and even witnessing their deaths, would make her primed and ready for the final plans he had for her. He would even make her the centerpiece of his collection. For a while.

And to add to his insane pleasure, the other mortals in the physical world would be stunned and confused, but none the wiser. Yes, like God, he would be unfathomable in his power to control. Life was good, for Thomas, and he allowed himself to laugh at the sheer joy of his victory and ascension.

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Sam wasn't sure if he had opened his eyes or not. He thought they were open, but the world around him was pitch black. He took stock of his body and noticed that he was handcuffed, sitting in a chair, and somehow, he was immobile beyond the capacity of the handcuffs. There was something hard in front of him; he guessed it was a table. He held his breath and listened as carefully as he could to find out if he was alone or not. He was definitely not alone. He heard a steady breathing rhythm that was broken by a soft chuckle. It was the sound of someone laughing at you, not with you – cruel and low.

"Who's there?" He tried to remember how he had gotten here, but there was nothing. The last thing he remembered was entering Thomas Waynes' room. Oh crap! Another chuckle sounded in the dark – a little more drawn out and a louder.

Sam knew his brother wasn't wherever he was. He had always been able to tell when Dean was in a room with him. He figured that, with the life of hunting, instinct and dependence on awareness of one's surroundings, he learned the feel of Dean. Both he and his brother, from the time they were young, would awaken the instant their father, or anyone else, would enter the bedroom, but there was a bond of surety between the brothers that allowed them to remain relaxed when the other entered a room, and their sleep remained undisturbed. That simpatico wasn't broken until Sam had willfully broken it by going to college. They were just re-forging that bond, though it seemed everything in the world was intent on preventing it.

"What do you want, Thomas?"

Thomas outright laughed at this statement. "Just a little entertainment before you go."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm really not the funny one, you know. Ask my brother, he'll tell you. I'm boring, library-geekboy. So you might as well just let me go."

"Oh, don't worry. I bet you're far more amusing than you think. Let me show you…"

A small red light, like a red-eye reducer on a camera, lit from somewhere on, what Sam had imagined was, the table in front of him. Being in a pitch black room, it naturally drew the attention of his eyes. Like something out of a science fiction story, a stream of light discharged from… something… on the table - downloading images directly into Sam's head.

Sam saw in molasses-slow motion when Jess was pinned to the ceiling and stared down at him. Her abdomen was slit open, yet only enough blood dripped for Sam to open his eyes and find what was falling on him. It was as if her blood and life were being held to the ceiling long enough for him to find her and watch her die in fear and fire, impotent to do anything but stare in disbelief and shock. No… Don't make me go through this again…

In the sudden blackness that filled his vision after the images stopped, Sam heard Thomas' voice. "My, my, Sam. Who knew you had it in you to kill someone?"

"No!... I didn't kill her…" No amount of time and space would make those images any easier to see. Sam's eyes watered in frustration and grief.

"But you knew. You knew ahead of time what was going to happen. And you did nothing. Doesn't turning your back make you just as responsible as if you committed the murder yourself?"

"No! I did. Not. Kill. Her! It was the demon!"

"You say potato, I say pot-ah-to. He was just showing you who you are, Sam."

Sam was stunned into silence for a moment. The red light flashed on the surface in front of him again. He didn't want to look, but it was like watching a train-wreck. He couldn't not look.

Sam watched in horror as he saw himself pinned to a wall, watching the yellow-eyed demon with his father's face. "I have plans for you, Sam. You and all the children like you." He watched as the demon was killing his brother. His heart was torn and breaking as he heard his brother beg. He had tried. He had tried with all his might to make the gun move. To put an end to the quest for vengeance. But he couldn't. And now his brother was begging. Dean had never begged for anything in his life, but he did it twice that night. He had begged his father for help, hoping that his hero would be able to save him. And later, with what little life he had left, he begged Sam not to kill their dad, returning the favor – life for life, love for love. Sam's world had been turned upside down that night.

"You belong to another family, Sam. And the demon takes care of his own… with the same vengeance and ferocious purpose your father had. They're really not all that different are they? They even kind of look the same."

Thomas laughed at his own joke, but Sam could barely breathe. There was a time when Sam had hated his father as much as he hated the Demon. He wasn't even sure who he held more responsible for their crap-heap of a life. Yes, the Demon had stolen a precious piece of their life, but it was their dad who never allowed them to move on, and compounded every injury and emotional scar they received growing up. So Thomas' words cut Sam to the quick. It had been time, maturity, and Jess' death that enabled Sam to see things from their father's perspective. He had even begun to recognize how much he was like his father.

Thomas next reminded Sam of the lengths he had considered going to get revenge. Tears that had formed, but not fallen, started to spill out as Sam saw further evidence of his own corruption. The ever-present, steady-as-rock foundation of his family, that he had come to take for granted, had been shaken and broken. No son should have to hear his father beg him to take his life, however logical it seemed. But his dad had also begged that night, begged for everything to end. Sam had hated him for it. But he also hated himself because, without Dean, he would have done it. He would have killed his own father. His quest for vengeance had nearly cost him his soul.

"It's your destiny." Thomas whispered. It was not awe that muted Thomas' voice, but rather his knowledge of how to manipulate his victims, what tones of voice to use when, for maximum effect. "Stop fighting it, Sam. It will only wear you out. It will only hurt you… and your brother… in the end."

Thomas showed Sam another stream of images. Andy killing Webber. The two incidents where Max and Webber each intended to kill Dean. "If you leave him now… if you choose to stop fighting… at least Dean will have a chance. If you fight, and lose control, Dean might get in the way, and you'll do something you regret… or not." There was a hint of cold apathy in the last words. Sam had at one time thought that if he turned, if he did slide down the slippery slope to the dark side, he could at least count on his brother to take care of him and do what needed to be done. Knowing the power both Max and Webber wielded over his brother, Sam was afraid that Dean might not get the opportunity. Worse was that after River Grove, Sam thought Dean might not fight at all. He might just let Sam kill him. And Sam couldn't live with that.

A voice whispered in the darkness, bringing with it light and something more valuable – hope. "Sam."

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Kaitlyn sought out Sam. She could feel him and was relieved to find him in his own mind. She grew concerned, however, that she could not see him. He was usually a near-blinding light when she searched for his mind. Maybe it's because I'm actually in his mind, rather than just trying to find him, she thought. She stretched out with her sixth sense some more, trying to pick up on something. It was like waiting for you eyes to get accustomed to a dark room. Slowly, she began to feel Sam's emotions, and they were growing stronger. Kaitlyn became alarmed by the emotions she was picking up from him. He was experiencing grief and pain, but it was mixed with guilt, regret, and hate. They were the emotions of memories relived. She had relived enough of her own to recognize the echoes. What worried her most was Thomas' talent for getting people to commit suicide. He knew how to play in the darkness of emotions, those that threaten to drown or strangle their owner. She felt Sam slipping. He was being overwhelmed and he felt unable to fight. Kaitlyn became frustrated at her inability to read minds. How could she counter whatever lies Thomas was telling Sam when she didn't know what they were? She decided she would offer what she could. She said a prayer for Sam and then reached out to him, trying to comfort him with her presence.

"Sam."

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Kaitlyn. It was just one word, but the voice that carried it brought hope and purpose. Sam's mind started working its way back out of the mire in which it had gotten stuck. Kaitlyn was one of the chosen, and she had not yet given in to the dark. He remembered her words about having a choice, about responsibility. He remembered Dean's promise, that he would always be around to make sure nothing bad happened to him. And Sam saw that he had a responsibility in return. He had to continue to fight the dark for the sake of those who fought for him. Just as he knew Dean was tired and would not remain in battle without him, he found the strength to do the same – to make Dean his reason for continuing.

"Kaitlyn," Sam said aloud and turned his head, as if expecting to see her.

It was in this one word that Thomas noticed the shift in Sam. Dammit! I had him. I have to get her away from him. Separate the strands of the rope.

"Kaitlyn, how do I get out of here? I can't see anything. And I can't move."

Kaitlyn couldn't help but smile in relief at hearing Sam's voice and watching his light return. "This is your mind, Sam. It is your reality. You can free yourself. Thomas can't…"

"Shut up, wench!" Thomas' angry voice startled Sam and he waited. "You will not interfere anymore!"

Sam heard Kaitlyn grunt, yell no, and then nothing. After a second Sam shook himself from his stupor. If what Kaitlyn said was true, he should be able to find a way to free himself. He concentrated as he had when trying to use telekinesis. He pictured in his head what he wanted to occur and then willed it into reality. At once, his bindings seemed to melt away. He jumped to his feet and ran in the direction of where he last heard Kaitlyn. He needed light. The sun seemed to rise on the horizon. He was standing near the edge of a cliff. He reached out, trying to find Kaitlyn using the technique she had taught him. He decided it would be easier if the scene in his mind was the interior of a building, then it would be closer to his experience of locating Thomas. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was in an office building. Trying again to find Kaitlyn, he saw the familiar dim light that he recognized as hers. He could see that she was struggling with Thomas. He reached a door labeled Thomas' office. When he reached out to turn the doorknob, he heard a familiar voice call his name. It both chilled him to his core, and nearly dropped him to his knees.

Except for the fact that Sam had closed his eyes in a childish attempt to hide, he remained frozen with his hand outstretched, grasping the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip. No, no, no, no. You're not real. Please… When Sam refused to turn around, a gentle hand reached for his arm and turned him around. Sam's eyes were still closed, so she reached up and touched his face. "Sam."

When Sam's eyes opened, tears again threatened to spill out as he looked into the angelic face of the woman he would forever love. "Jess," he whispered. Despite himself, he grabbed her and drew her into his embrace.

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A/N - Mwahahaha. :) Ok, seriously now. Thanks all who have read and reviewed. And thanks much to J.A. Carlton, mom and mei mei. I know... same old, same old. Fortunately, repetition does not make for lack of truth. In fact, according to the science of the mind, the more you repeat something, the more true it is - whether it's true or not. Ha ha. Oh, sorry. Thank you all for your encouragement and support. And thanks to my special three for helping me tell the story better, and helping to make me a better story-teller.