It was freezing outside when I stepped out of the Impala, shutting the door behind me. Snow was pelting me in the face and I tried to keep my teeth from chattering. I hated winter. I hated snow. I hated being at this woman's house knowing her and soulless Sam had had sex last year.

"I'm waiting for the day we hunt something that decides it likes Hawaii and five star hotels," I grumbled to which Dean smiled at me over his shoulder. "Hey," I said, pointing in the distance. "Why are the lights on in the shed?"

"Let's check it out," Dean said, taking the lead immediately.

I fell in step beside Sam who was in total hunter mode. Our hands briefly bumped from the close proximity we had been walking in and I glanced up at him. He looked at me but quickly looked back up ahead at the shed. I frowned but brushed it off. I was supposed to be pissed at him after all.

"Well my spidey senses are tingling," Dean joked as we stepped into the dank shed.

I bit my lip holding back a laugh. Now definitely was not the time for stand up comedy.

"Sam!"

My eyes caught on the woman cowering in a corner. Sam rushed forward to her and I stood, scanning the room for some kind of a trap.

"What you did to Roy, is it true?" I heard the woman ask Sam, her voice shaking a little.

I had no idea what she was on about, but I thought I heard something behind me.

Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder and I was thrown into a wall. My back began aching as I tried to stand back up. That's when I realized I'd somehow been trapped in what looked like a spider web.

Sam rushed the guy, brandishing a knife, but was soon caught by his throat.

"Answer the question, Sam," the man hissed, his face just inches from Sam's.

Before I'd known how it'd happened, all the three of us found ourselves wrapped up in massive webs. I was fighting hard against my restraints, trying to break through, but it was pointless. The bonds were too strong.

The man, who I'll be honest looked like he stepped out of some messed up horror movie, strode over in front of Sam, taunting him. I couldn't believe the man's wife was just standing there as her monster of a husband was about to kill us.

"Every night I dreamed about ripping your throat out."

That caught my attention. My eyes turned instinctively to Sam. Frantically I began trying to reach for the knife I'd dropped behind me. If only I could move a few more inches, I could grab it and get free.

"The question is, do I kill you, or do I turn you?" the man asked, enjoying every minute of the whole situation.

I gasped in surprise as I saw Dean lunge forward at the man, somehow having cut himself free from the web. I fought harder to reach the knife beside me, but my fingertips just barely grazed the knife's handle.

"Come on," I begged.

Roy threw Dean back to the ground and his wife ran forward, finally trying to stop him. He pushed her aside with ease before grabbing Dean by the throat and pushing him into the wall.

I took in a deep breath and forced myself to reach, feeling my muscles protest in pain. I grabbed the knife and easily sliced a line up the web, freeing myself. The woman had grabbed a rather long blade and sliced Sam free moments later.

Wasting no time, I rushed forward brandishing my knife. I didn't hesitate, I sliced the man's head clear off. With a sickening thud it dropped to the ground with his body, rolling away a little bit.

"You alright?" I asked Dean, not able to keep my eyes on the gruesome scene.

"Yeah," he said, sounding breathless, "thanks."

Roy's wife ran forward, tears in her eyes, looking as if she was going to be sick. Sam looked defeated. No doubt thinking about how it was somehow his fault that a once innocent man was now dead because of him.

I said nothing after that as the guy's exchanged looks with each other. I just spun around and exited the shed back out into the snow. The adrenaline was wearing off and now I felt like I was going to be sick. Dean followed soon after along with the others. Once we reached the front of the house, Sam followed the woman up to the front door of her house trying so hard to talk to her. I stood by the Impala with Dean and watched from a distance. It didn't last long, she paused for a moment without turning to face him before entering her house and slamming the door on him.

I sighed, my breath becoming visible in the cold. Slowly, Sam turned around, his shoulders dropping. Our eyes caught, a sad look was on his face and it felt like someone had punched me in the heart. He looked so broken.

I began to walk toward him, forgetting about how upset I'd been with him for the past few days about something so foolish. Sam needed me, that's all that mattered. I didn't even care that Dean was watching us.

He met me halfway between the house and the Impala and I pulled him into a tight embrace, the snow swirling around us. He had his face buried in the crook of my neck and I gingerly ran a hand through his hair.

"It's not your fault, Sammy," I whispered to him.

He didn't say anything, just continued to hold onto me for dear life for a few more minutes.

"Let's go," he mumbled as he pulled away, not even looking me in the eyes. He just made his way straight towards the car, which Dean was now getting into.

Reluctantly I followed after him, getting into the backseat. The ride back to the abandoned house was silent. It wasn't exactly an awkward silence, but not a comfortable one either. No one knew what to say.

Sam sat down on one of the beds as soon as we got back. Dean stopped and stared at his brother for a minute before finally speaking up.

"You okay?" he asked.

"You were right," Sam admitted, getting up and beginning to pack a few things into his duffle bag, "we shouldn't have come back here.

"Well you did kill the uh, spider man."

Sam grunted. "So you're suggesting what I did back there was a good thing?"

"I'm just sayin-"

"What?" Sam stopped packing and spun around to look at Dean, cutting him off.

Dean ran a hand over his face in frustration before he answered. "Sam you've got to understand that all that crap last year, all of it, none of it was you."

Sam rolled his eyes, huffing loudly. "Let's be crystal clear, okay? It was me."

I shut my eyes, rubbing a hand over my temples as I felt another headache coming on.

"Can I get you anything?" I heard Dean ask.

"What are you now, my waitress?" Sam asked, his tone a cross between irritated and mild humor.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better, don't be a bitch," Dean defended himself.

I leaned against the wall in between the two rooms, my eyes still shut. My head was starting to feel like it was on the verge of exploding.

"You okay?" Dean asked gruffly.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. Sam had now turned to eye me curiously as well. I still had a hand to my head, trying to massage the pain away.

"Yeah, just a headache, I think."

"You think?" Dean asked, confused.

I opened my mouth to respond but was instantly cut off. Sam fell to the floor suddenly in a fit. It almost looked like he was having a seizure.

"Sammy!" I shouted, ignoring the extreme pain shooting through my head as I rushed to his side.

Dean was there in no time, kneeling down by his brother. "Sammy talk to me!" Dean demanded, grabbing hold of his brother's arm.

I felt sick to my stomach as I watched him rolling on the ground, his face contorted in pain. He was letting out ragged gasps of air and he had this distant look in his eyes.

There was a moment when he stopped breathing and I felt myself stop as well. Dean was calling his name over and over, his voice cracking a bit. That was when Sam started screaming.

Tears were in my eyes and I threw myself down on the ground against him. "Sam, please," I heard myself.

His screaming began to get worse; louder and more tortured. It was like he was being attacked by some invisible force. Tears were freely running down my face.

"Sammy, please," I begged again, running a hand down his cheek.

Slowly, his screaming quieted and he stopped the flailing of his body. He was staring up at the ceiling and the stillness and silence of the room felt painful.

Sam's eyes fluttered closed and he went impossibly rigid beneath my hands. I tensed up instantly.

Dean became just as anxious.

"Sam?" Dean called out hesitantly.

When he received no response he instinctively reached a hand to his brother's throat, checking for a pulse.

"Sammy!" Dean urged, tears in his eyes as he shook his brother.

"No. No no no no no," I began chanting.

Sam had to be okay, he just had to.