Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Please note that I do not speak Latin, and therefore the Latin in this chapter is derived from an online Instant Translator that is no doubt unreliable when it comes to accurate conjugation and such. Nevertheless, it sounds kinda cool, so I decided to go with it, even though I'm relatively certain it's not proper Latin.

A/N: Wow, I'm starting to get A/N happy…I'm sorry, but I can't just post without thanking mimishell for beta-ing this for me! Thanks, mimi! Oh, and as always, sorry for the long delay—sickness and holidays didn't lend themselves to a speedy update.

Chapter 25: The Subconscious of the Sleep-Deprived

The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town was damp and cold, but he felt nothing as he carefully laid the candles at each of the points of the compass, careful not to scatter the hemp seed that was poured in intricate swirls on the dirty, concrete floor. In the bowl at the center of the circle, dried calendula and amaranth waited to be lit as he carefully lifted the small bottle of galbanum oil and began to pour as he slowly walked the perimeter of the circle. Eyeing the sigils drawn throughout the carefully constructed design, he finally took a calming breath and leaned down, one by one lighting the candles before dropping the match into the bowl, leaning back as the dried herbs ignited.

"Adveho procul meus dico," he murmured softly, the Latin words flowing off his tongue and settling in the still air with a heaviness that spoke of their weight. "Sub rosa, adveho dum nemo teneo nostri presentia quod voluntas es insciens. Adveho in obscurum ut ego dico vos iam , pro in umbra nos niteo."

With the last word, the air seemed to thicken with the power of the spell, and slowly, he sat back on his heels, waiting. He didn't have to wait long before a voice emerged from the darkness.

"You summoned me."

He turned, raising his gaze to the shadowy figure that had manifested behind him, nodding his head as he stood to face the presence staring back at him from the darkness.

"Yes," he replied gravely as he dropped his eyes respectfully.

"You risk too much—you could have been followed."

"I felt it necessary," he began, only to be interrupted by the sharp voice of his superior.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? If your actions are exposed, everyone involved will be in jeopardy—we can't afford that now!" he said harshly. "Not after the last time!"

"My apologies, but there was aught else I could do—m y task grows more difficult. The boy's defenses are expanding. He's beginning to erect shields—it's harder to take control when I need to."

"It was to be expected. He's no longer a child—even the head-blind develop mental defenses during adolescence, and the Winchester boy is no exception. Has he become aware of you?"

"No."

"He will. The time is at hand."

"Should I make myself known, then?"

"Only if you must. The truth is revealed in its own time. Patience in matters such as these is best. He will know soon enough."

"The elder—Dean—I worry that he may begin to grow suspicious. He observes the young one with an ever watchful eye, and I fear he may soon suspect if I continue to—"

"You mustn't allow him to interfere. Too much hangs in the balance if he learns of you. We can't afford any more questions, not after last time."

"The Minion incident was years ago—surely no one will—"

"Heed my words—take caution."

"Very well."

"Maintain secrecy as long as you can. Let nothing hinder you."

"Of course," he said, nodding as he watched the blurry form of his superior fade into the darkness, and with a sigh, he crouched down and blew out the flames, allowing them to cool while he carefully gathered all traces of his presence and the ritual. It wouldn't do to leave anything behind.

With a jerk, Braden came awake, his heart leaping in his chest as he felt the split second of free-fall that seemed to come whenever he was in that familiar state of not-asleep, not-awake.

Why's it cold?

It seemed as though he'd just dreamed something, something important, but he couldn't remember.

Did I go somewhere? What…

It was about that time that Braden realized, rather belatedly, that he was no longer asleep on Lyssa Martin's living room sofa but was instead standing on a dark, abandoned sidewalk. It was also about that time that it occurred to him that he had no idea where the sidewalk in question was. A buzzing sound in the back of his mind had him reaching for his head, rubbing at his temple as he struggled to think past the blurry haze of confusion and the headache that was nipping at the edge of his consciousness.

Aubrey? Aw shit, where's Aubrey?

Worry had his gut churning sickeningly, and he dropped to the curb on the side of the road, burying his face in his hands as he tried to figure out what to do and not throw up. Aubrey had the phone they shared, which meant Braden couldn't exactly call, but it didn't really matter, since he wouldn't know how to tell anyone where he was anyway. So basically, he was up shit creek without a paddle.

Can't stay here. Can't just sit. Move your ass.

He regained his feet unsteadily, feeling shaky and confused as he gazed around, trying to figure out where he was. But even in such a small town, Braden didn't have a clue, despite his attempts to assess his surroundings. His mind felt fuzzy, and grasping at coherent thought was proving more and more difficult.

Payphone—call home. Yeah… he thought, looking around desperately only to see nothing but dark, abandoned buildings and graffiti-covered signs.

Maybe if I…yeah…

Subconsciously picking a direction, he began to stumble down the street, hoping absently that the shakiness in his limbs would dissipate. But it didn't, and after only a short distance, he dropped back to the curb with a shuddering sigh, drawing his knees up to his chest. He buried his face in his arms, trying to think rationally about his next course of action but unable to push past the confusion and the headache and the weariness pressing down on him.

'm tired. Don't feel good. Can't think.

He didn't know how long he sat there staring through his arms at the ground beneath him, his body wigging out on him and feeling not-his-own before someone spoke.

"Hey, kid—you alright?"

"Lost," Braden mumbled, and while that really wasn't the worst of his problems, it was really all he could manage at the moment, he decided vaguely.

Shouldn't talk to strangers.

"I'm Officer Clarke—can you tell me your name, son?"

Cop. Aw, shit. Not good. Gotta answer.

"Braden," he replied, too tired and sick to lift his head, even if it was a cop.

"Braden, are you high?"

"Nosir."

Why's he askin' me that?

"Can you look up at me for a minute?"

"'m tired. Don't feel good," he said in lieu of a reply, remaining as he was, his face hidden as he closed his eyes, willing the quaking in his limbs to go away.

"How about just for a minute, so I can get a look at you," the cop told him reasonably, his tone striking Braden as surprisingly friendly, gentle even, if not a tad cautious. Reluctantly, Braden lifted his head to see a tall, broad-shouldered police officer standing over him with a concerned expression, searching his eyes for a long minute before crouching down beside him and putting the back of his hand against Braden's flushed cheek.

"How old are you, Braden?"

"Fourteen," Braden mumbled, allowing his head to drop back onto his arms and wearily closing his eyes again.

Why can't ya' just leave me 'lone?

"What's a kid your age doing out here in the middle of the night?" Officer Clarke continued, obviously unwilling to just go away.

"I dunno. 'm lost."

"Yes, I can see that," Officer Clarke said with a smile, "but how did you get out here in the first place?"

"I dunno. Fell asleep. Woke up here."

"You woke up without any recollection of how you got here?"

"Yessir."

"Then where did the backpack come from?"

"Huh?"

Backpack? What?

"You're wearing a backpack, son, which suggests that your coming out here was premeditated."

"Backpack?"

Sure enough, Braden suddenly became aware of the straps pressing into his shoulders, the weight of the backpack pulling against him.

Huh. Where'd that come from?

"You didn't know you had it?"

"Nosir."

"And you haven't taken any drugs, had any alcohol to drink?"

"Nosir."

Don't do that shit. D would kick m' ass.

"You live nearby?"

"I dunno. 'm lost."

Didn't I tell him that?

"Alright, well why don't you rest here for a second, let me see what I can do to help you out, okay?"

"'kay," Braden mumbled, already feeling his limbs grow heavy as a deep fatigue pulled at him.

"Dispatch," he heard the cop say into his radio, "this is Clarke. I've got a kid out here near the old glass factory—male, Caucasian, fourteen years of age, approximately 5'10", dark hair, blue eyes, first name Braden. Do we have any missing child reports matching that description?"

As the cop fell silent waiting for a reply, Braden felt himself drifting closer and closer to the sleep that had eluded him for so long, and for the first time in weeks, he couldn't seem to resist it.

"Nah, I don't think so," Officer Clarke was saying. "He's disoriented, but his eyes aren't dilated…think he's running a fever…no idea how he got here…yeah, I'm gonna take him on into the ER—he's not acting right…try and call his parents once I get there…"

Don't wanna go, Braden thought, but somehow, he just didn't have the strength to say it.

"Yeah, he's too out of it to talk to me much…negative on the ambulance…10-4..."

The next thing Braden knew, he felt a warm hand grip his arm, jostling him awake as the cop suddenly spoke to him.

"C'mon, kid, let's get you into the squad car, okay? Can you stand?"

Maybe.

He was vaguely aware of the cop pulling him up, and he swayed on his feet, managing to stay upright only because Officer Clarke maintained a firm hold on him, guiding him over to the squad car.

Shouldn't be doin' this, he told himself, even as his traitorous body sank bonelessly down onto the seat. He was asleep before the door closed behind him.

Time had long ceased to have meaning when snatches of conversation and the familiar, gruff tones of his father's voice began to penetrate the dark nothingness that had dragged him under.

"Yeah, he sleepwalks…disorients the hell out of him if he wakes up in the middle….musta been… usually do a better job of watching…don't know how he…yeah, I wanna get him home…"

Home? he thought with growing alarm as higher-order brain functions began to come online again. Aw shit, where am I?

"How often does the sleepwalking disrupt his sleep, Mr. Winchester?"

"It comes and it goes, Doc."

Doc? How the hell did I get in the hospital?

"Often enough, I guess," John was saying. "His older brother and I try to run interference and get him back to bed, but it's taking its toll on us."

Don't blame all that on me, Dad—you and D sleep lightly anyway, 'cause you worry about evil shit coming after us in the dark. It's not just me.

"If that's the case, there are a number of medications that could help him sleep soundly. However, it's best if you discuss them with Braden's pediatrician—it might take a bit of trial and error to get just the right medication and dosage."

My pediatrician—riiiiight, Braden thought wryly, fighting the urge to shake his head out of sheer amusement. That implies that we actually stay in one place long enough for me to have a pediatrician.

"Yeah, I hate to think about drugging him every night, but I can't have him doing this again—it's just too damn dangerous."

Oh fuck, this is bad. What did I do? Braden thought, shifting nervously as a slow sense of dread filled him. Dwelling on the implications of his father's words, Braden missed the doctor's reply, and the next thing he knew, the door was closing. And judging by the sound of the footsteps approaching the bed where he was lying, Braden knew it could only be one person.

Uh-oh.

"Braden, you and I both know you're not asleep, so cut the bullshit, son," his dad told him gruffly, but underneath the sternness, Braden could sense the worry in his voice. "Open your eyes and look at me."

Braden ever-so-slowly opened his eyes to see his dad leaning over him with a mixed expression of worry and irritation.

"Hey, Dad," Braden said uneasily, biting his lip as he forced himself to meet his father's gaze.

"You scare the shit outta me disappearing in the middle of the night, and all you've got to say for yourself is 'hey, Dad?'"

"I don't know what happened, Dad," he said slowly, shrugging helplessly as he stared back into the other man's eyes.

"What happened is that you disappeared from a damn party—a party that you had no business being at in the first place, I might add—and I had to spend most of the night searching for your ass when I got home from that hunt outside Denver. I looked for you for hours before I finally got the message that you were here."

"Oh."

Aw shit.

"Yeah."

"Dad, I swear, I don't know what happened," Braden told him earnestly. "I was—"

"Save it. We'll talk about it later. Get dressed—we're getting the hell out of here."

"What time is it?" he asked tentatively, as he sat up and pushed the sheet aside, already peeling the hospital gown off his shoulders.

"About 3 in the morning." He picked up Braden's neatly folded jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie and dropped them into Braden's lap, motioning for him to hurry up.

"How'd I get here?" he asked, pulling his jeans on over his boxers before pulling the t-shirt on over his head.

"Some cop found you wandering somewhere on the outskirts of town. Cop brought you in 'cause he thought you were acting strange."

"What did the doctor say?"

Please say they found something—anything. Just so I know what's wrong with me.

"Mild fever, exhaustion. That's why I'm giving you a reprieve. For now. We'll talk about this after you get some sleep."

That's gonna be a fun conversation, he thought with a grimace.

"So, um…where's Aubrey?"

"At home with your brother."

"She okay?" he asked softly, looking back at his father as he held his hoodie in still hands.

"Son, you took off and left her alone without a word—what do you think?" John asked, not unkindly but his point was made just the same. "You scared the hell out of her."

"Dad, I—"

"Not here, Braden. Now, I'm gonna go sign the discharge papers—finish getting dressed and do not leave this room—I'll be back for you. Understand?"

"Yessir," he said, watching his father leave before letting out a deep sigh.

Well, the good news is, Dad doesn't seem quite as pissed as I would've thought. The bad news, though, is, if he stays true to form, that only means he's saving it up for when we get home. Yep. It's gonna be bad.

He stomped into his tennis shoes, too tired to kneel down and tie them, and was sitting on his bed when his dad came back in.

"Let's go," he said, picking up Braden's backpack from beside the door and motioning for Braden to follow him. As he trailed his father down the corridor, he could feel the pressure in his head beginning to bear down on him again, the same headache he'd had in varying strengths for what seemed like weeks.

Why won't it just go away? he thought with a growing sense of frustration.

"You're doing it to yourself, you know."

So surprised by the almost inaudible words whispering through his mind, Braden stumbled, almost face-planting into the floor.

What the fuck?

But there was nothing else, no sign that what he'd heard was anything but imagined.

"Braden, I'm pretty damn tired. Now, quit playin' around and move your ass," John said, motioning him forward impatiently. He bit his lip and hurried forward, following his father out to the familiar black GMC pick-up in the mostly empty parking lot.

Maybe it's just 'cause I'm tired. Yeah, that's it. I just need to get some freakin' sleep.


Braden awoke when the truck came to a stop outside their apartment building. He dragged his hand through his hair before heaving a sigh and reaching for the door handle.

"Braden."

"Sir?" he asked, his hand pausing on the handle as he waited apprehensively for his father's next words.

God, please let Dad channel his inner-girl and be sensitive, just this once— I'll totally go to church with Aubby next time she asks, I promise, just please don't make him wanna talk about everything now.

"You go in, change, and get your ass into bed. We're all too tired to deal with this right now."

"Yessir."

Guess I'm going to church with Aubby then…

He slipped out of the truck, closing the door quietly but firmly before falling into step with his father. When his dad unlocked the door to the apartment, Braden took a deep breath and slowly slipped in behind him, pausing at the sight of Dean sitting on the couch staring at the TV with unseeing eyes as Aubrey slept restlessly, curled up at his side with her head on his leg.

"Bout time you dragged your ass home," Dean said, his voice devoid of emotion as he gazed back at Braden blearily, his posture a picture of exhaustion.

"'m sorry, D," Braden murmured, feeling like absolute shit as he saw the unspoken worry that had obviously taken its toll on his older brother.

"Braden, bed. Now," John said, nudging him in a not-so-subtle hint to get moving. "You want me to get her?" he asked, addressing Dean as he nodded towards Aubrey, already moving forward to take her. But Dean shook his head, wordlessly shifting Aubrey into his arms and climbing to his feet with the ease of years of practice.

Ah man, this sucks—Dad musta said something to D, and now he's pissed and not talking to Dad. Again. 'Cept, this time, it's all my fault.

Braden followed silently as Dean carried Aubrey to the twins' bedroom, and as his older brother laid her down on her bed and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, Braden felt his throat tighten at the sight of the dried tearstains on her face, no doubt a result of not knowing where he was.

Aw shit.

"Is Aubby mad at me, D?" he whispered as he toed off his shoes and peeled his hoodie off.

"You'll have to ask her. In the morning. Don't wake her up," Dean said, not glancing at him as he stopped near the hamster cage on Braden's dresser and bent down beside a stack of books from their father's collection, grabbing up a few of the larger ones and placing them firmly on top of the lid of the cage before straightening to move past him.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Are you mad at me?" Braden asked, biting his lip worriedly as he risked a glance into his older brother's face.

"Bray…" Dean said with a sigh, "as much as I would love to kick your ass for what happened tonight…mostly you just scared the hell outta me."

"I didn't mean to, D, I swear."

"Yeah, I know," Dean told him softly, jerking Braden forward in a tight hug. "Try to stay in bed for what's left of tonight, okay? I gotta get some fucking sleep."

"'kay," Braden replied with a half-hearted smile, glad at least one sibling wasn't pissed off at him. John walked in then, eyeing Braden sternly.

"Go to bed, son," he said, gently pushing Dean towards the door before he turned to Braden with a stern expression. "I thought I told you to get to bed, too," he said gruffly.

"Yessir." And though he really wanted to defend his actions, he knew well enough that arguing with John Winchester about the nature of any given order at three in the morning was asking for a shitload of trouble. So he kept his mouth shut and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt as his dad pulled the covers down on the bed.

"Get in."

Tucking him in was a nice gesture, certainly not an unwelcome one, even if it was treating him like a little kid, and it was one that he and Aubrey both had grown to appreciate as a gesture that their dad didn't indulge in much anymore. But all Braden could think about was the fact that his dad was expecting him to get in bed and sleep. Sleep. Something that had eluded him for the better part of three and a half weeks. And though the prospect of sleep should have been something he welcomed with open arms, the possibility of what he could do if he let himself fall asleep caused a sudden, inexplicable sense of panic to well up as his dad waited for him to comply.

"Dad, can't I just stay up with you for awhile? Please? We can watch TV or something, or…um, we could go ahead and talk…and…and, then there won't be anything hanging over our heads all night," he said, well aware that he sounded like a little kid begging to stay up past his bedtime, and just as aware that there was no chance in hell his father would go for it but desperate enough to try anyway.

"No. I'm tired, you're sleep-deprived, and it's almost four in the morning. We're all going to bed, and that includes you."

"But, Dad," Braden protested, even as John steered him to the bed and gently pushed him in.

"I said no," John told him, pulling the covers up around Braden's shoulders. He laid his hand on Braden's head, sweeping his hair back from his forehead affectionately. "Go to sleep, son."

And as Braden closed his eyes, the comforting weight of his father's hand on his head, his last thought before sleep claimed him was, Please, God, keep me here for the rest of the night—don't let anything else happen.

Braden couldn't say for sure what woke him, but as his eyes opened, he realized with an irritated scowl that the digital clock by the bed was showing 7:03.

Still early—what the hell? I've only been asleep a measly three and a half hours, dammit!

But as he shifted to go back to sleep, he caught sight of Aubrey sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her chin propped on top of her knees as she stared back at him silently.

"Aubby?" he asked softly, sitting up in bed and swiveling around to face her, mirroring her. "Aubby, are you okay?"

"We never should've gone to that stupid party," she murmured. "We should've just stayed home with Dean."

Aw, shit, Aub—c'mon, don't do this to me.

But apparently whatever connection the two of them shared was currently offline because she was looking back at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

"I'm sorry I ruined it for you," he told her regretfully, unable to meet her eyes as a swell of guilt filled him.

"Why'd you do that, Braden? Why didn't you just come and tell me you were too tired to stay any longer?! We could've just come home, and then I wouldn't have been alone, and I wouldn't have embarrassed myself in front of everybody!"

"I'm sorr—"

"I was scared, Braden! And I completely humiliated myself—you just left me there!" she cried, staring back at him with angry, tearful eyes, and he felt something inside of him snap then. It wasn't often that Braden lost his temper—in fact, it was almost never, which definitely set him apart from the rest of the Winchester family. But on the rare occasion when it did happen, he wasn't one to hold back.

"Dammit, I'm sorry!" he exploded, suddenly tired of being blamed and chewed out for something that was out of his control, something he didn't really understand. Something that wasn't his fault. "I'm sorry! What the hell do you want from me?" he yelled.

"I want you to stop lying to me!" she yelled back, abruptly coming to stand in front of him, her hands clenched in angry fists as she glared back at him. "You've been lying to me for weeks, now, and I'm sick of it!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about how you've spent the last three weeks lying to me every time I ask you if you're okay! You've hardly slept, and you're tired, but you just keep on lying, telling me that you're fine when you're not! Or you downplay it, which is just as bad! If you had just told me the truth, none of this would've happened!"

"I only went to that stupid-ass party because of you! And now it's all my fault?!"

"Well if you'd just told me—"

"Aubrey, I lost two fucking hours! I don't know where I was or how I even got there—so what the hell are you bitching about!?"

Aubrey opened her mouth to deliver what was no doubt about to be a blistering retort when the door was thrown open, slamming into the wall to reveal Dean staring back at them with a majorly pissed off expression, their dad right behind him.

"Why don't you both shut the hell up!?" Dean yelled, his eyes dark with fury. "I am fucking tired, and I need some damn sleep before I fucking lose it!"

Aw shit.

"Dean, I got this," John broke in, stepping in to put a stop to Dean's tirade before he really got going or broke something, wrapping his hand around Dean's shoulder and maneuvering him back towards his bedroom. Jerking away from their father's hold, Dean swept his arm out, slinging the clock radio that sat on Braden's dresser against the wall with a crash that had Aubrey cringing before he stormed out of the room, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him with a resounding bang.

Not good. Definitely not good, Braden thought, watching with a sense of dread as their dad turned to stare at them, and based on the look on Aubrey's face, Braden suspected that she, too, was anticipating the lecture that was no doubt coming. Aubrey opened her mouth, no doubt about to start justifying her actions, but John held up a hand, cutting her off as he cocked his head, listening, Braden knew, for any sign that Dean was still raging.

When he apparently heard nothing else, he refocused his attention on the twins, staring back at them sternly.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Dad had definite rules about being a smartass before he'd consumed coffee, so with that in mind, Braden decided against pointing out the obvious "Nosir, because Dean just broke our clock" and settled for shaking his head instead as his father continued.

"It's seven o'clock in the morning, and while that might not seem all that early to you two, some of us have been up most of the damn night. I just got back from a hunt, and I didn't get much sleep while I was gone. To top that off, I had to come and spend most of my night looking for you, Braden. I'm tired. And since both of you are obviously too busy fighting with each other, maybe you haven't noticed how exhausted your brother is right now. He's on edge, and he can't deal with much more right now. He needs some sleep, so I suggest you both put whatever issues you have with one another on hold and go back to bed, because I promise you, if you wake Dean up again, I don't care how old you are, I will spank the hell out of both of you. Are we clear?"

"Yessir," they both replied without argument, because Braden knew that his father's suggestion wasn't really a suggestion, and his promise was exactly that: a promise. Dad hadn't spanked either of them in a good long time, but with things as they were right then, Braden didn't doubt the old man would go through with it if they disobeyed.

With one last hard look, John closed the door meaningfully behind him, leaving a thick silence in his wake.

"I was scared," Aubrey whispered into the stillness, staring down at her feet before glancing back at him apologetically.

"'m sorry, Aubby, really."

"You can talk to me, you know," she offered softly, and Braden felt a pang in his heart, well aware that she was issuing an invitation to talk but knowing that it was one he couldn't accept.

"I can't this time, Aub."

"We used to tell each other everything," she said sadly.

"Yeah, I know. But this time, it's different."

"How?"

I wish I knew.

He shrugged, not really knowing what to tell her. It was the same reason he hadn't told Dean a few days before.

"Please, Bray, try—for me."

He sighed, tired of keeping shit from her, and knowing well enough that he couldn't hold out against her for much longer. He'd kept it from her for weeks now, and it would be such a relief to unload. And he realized right then that he really did want to tell her everything he knew.

Which isn't a lot, but at least I won't be keeping everything to myself anymore. At least I won't be alone.

"I don't really understand it, Aubby, but…I've been having these dreams, except it's hard to remember when I wake up. I feel like…in the dreams, I'm doing something, something important, except I can't really control myself, and when I wake up, I start to forget. Like what happened at the party—I fell asleep, and I was dreaming, I know I was. But I don't remember any of it anymore. I dunno. 's like, when I think I'm dreaming, it's really me sleepwalking—you know when you're aware, kinda, but not really? 's like that. I keep doing shit in my sleep, Aubby, but I don't know exactly what I'm doing. And then there's the backpack," he said with a sigh.

"What backpack?"

"The backpack I had with me when that cop found me early this morning."

"How'd you end up with a backpack?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face as she gazed back at him.

"No effing clue. I've never even seen it before. But that's not even what I'm worried about—it's what's inside that I'm really worried about."

"What's in it?"

"Well, from what I remember from when I got a quick look—candles, some herbs—amaranth and calendula, I think—some chalk, maybe some other shit. I didn't get a good look."

"What do you do with stuff like that?" she asked him, scooting back against the headboard as she waited for him to explain.

"Well, you can do a lot with them…tons of spells and rituals use them. I'm not real sure about the specifics, but any one of 'em is pretty strong. But shit, Aubby, what was I even doing with all of it?"

"Could you figure out what spell or ritual-thingy you were using them for?"

"Maybe. If I saw all of the stuff in the bag…like I said, I only got a quick look at it earlier, and I was kinda out of it."

With a resolute nod, Aubrey stood and tiptoed to the door without a word.

"Aub, what are you doing?" he asked, frowning as she silently turned the doorknob.

"I'm gonna go get the backpack," she whispered. "If you can look at everything you had in there, maybe you can at least figure out what you were doing. Daddy left it by the door, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so," he said, standing up to follow her.

They hardly made it four steps out of their room when they heard the familiar sound of their father's voice from the couch.

"Both of you, go back to bed. Now. And do not even think of getting up until ten."

"Dang it," Aubrey muttered under her breath, voicing Braden's sentiments exactly as they reluctantly went back to their room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Aubrey shrugged helplessly, aiming an apologetic look at him before crawling back into her bed. Braden followed suit, pulling the blanket back up around his shoulder as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Before long, they were both asleep, and Braden would have been hard-pressed to say which one of them had fallen asleep first.

"Look for the signs."

Floating in a sea of darkness, he was disoriented, but Braden was relatively sure that it wasn't his voice that he was hearing.

What the hell? he thought , vaguely aware that he wasn't exactly dreaming but neither was he awake.

"Things are beginning to happen, boy—you need to look for the signs. We're running out of time, and you must be ready to act when the time comes."

"Who are you?" Braden asked, feeling pretty stupid but too eager to get an answer to let it stop him.

"Nevermind that. Just do as I said and be ready."

"I don't know who you are—why should I listen to you?" Braden thought mutinously, wondering at the same time why he was arguing with a voice in his head.

Isn't that a sign that there's something wrong with you, when you start talking to the voices in your head? Maybe I'm losing my freakin' mind.

"Because if you don't listen to me," the voice said darkly, "you're going to force my hand."

"What do you mean?" Braden thought, a sick feeling of foreboding pervading him as the voice's words sank in.

"It means, boy, that if you don't act, I'll have to take matters into my own hands. And if doing so means wresting control from you as I've done in the past, then so be it."

Aw shit.

And suddenly, all of the times when he'd been distantly aware of his body acting seemingly of its own accord while he slept, of times when his mind had no control, of wandering off to random places and saying things he didn't understand—all of it—began to make an eerie sense.

"It was you! All those times when I was sleepwalking! It was you! You're the reason why I haven't been sleeping!"

"It's because you're fighting me," the voice said matter-of-factly. "If you'd simply quit resisting me, things would go much easier for you."

"Tell me who you are!" he demanded, hot rage flowing through him at the realization that his body was being hijacked. But the voice was silent, not responding to his angry demands. "I'll keep fighting you! D' ya' hear me? I won't let you win!"

"You can't fight me indefinitely—you haven't the strength for it," the voice said quietly.

"Just watch me," Braden thought back defiantly.

"As you wish. I know well enough how stubborn a Winchester can be. But know this: in the end, you'll only be hurting yourself."

Braden woke with a jerk, shooting up in bed with a gasp, his heart feeling as though it was about to burst from his chest.

Fuck.

A quick look at Aubrey showed that he hadn't woken her, and with a shaky sigh, he dropped back onto his pillow, willing his heart to slow. He ran a trembling hand through sweat-soaked hair, grimacing at the feel of it.

Aw shit—what the hell just happened? Please tell me that did not just happen. Had to be a dream. Can't be real…can it?

He tried to shrug it off as just a bad dream, but a sickening sense of dread was filling his stomach, giving him a feeling that it was far from a mere dream. Sweat coated his body, too, an unwelcome reminder of the dream he was trying desperately not to think about. He looked back at Aubrey, wondering whether or not he should wake her.

But what would I tell her? 'So yeah, Aub, I've got some dude in my head threatening me—oh, and there's a chance I might be losing my effing mind, but don't worry or anything.' Yeah, I don't think so. Shit, maybe I should tell Dad or Dean.

But as quickly as the idea occurred to him, he discarded it.

No, I can't. Dad's right—D's got too much on him already. He can't deal with anymore right now. 'sides, he'd just worry, and 's not fair to put anything else on him. And Dad? Dad already eyes me funny sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking. I don't wanna give him another reason to look at me like somethin's wrong with me. Besides, it's sorta the same thing that it was with Aubby—what the hell would I tell them anyway? That I'm hearing some weird-as-hell voice in my head? I don't have any proof that it's anything more than a dream.

Throwing the tangled sheets off, he slid off the bed, shivering as the cool air hit him. Padding to the door, he soundlessly opened it, not shutting it behind him as he silently made his way to the living room.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" John mumbled, blinking his eyes open blearily, not moving from where he was stretched out on the couch.

"Is it ten yet?"

"No. Go back to bed."

"Can I take a shower instead?"

John sighed, rolling over to face Braden with a weary expression.

"I'd rather you get some more sleep, son—your brother said you haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Yeah, I know…but…"

"But what?"

"Um…I had a nightmare…" he told his father, praying his father couldn't sense the half-truth. "I don't wanna sleep anymore. Please, can't I just go ahead and shower? I'll be quiet, and I won't wake D, I promise."

"Yeah, alright. Keep it down. Give everybody at least a couple more hours. You and me—we're gonna talk later."

"Yessir," Braden mumbled, not really looking forward to it, but well aware that his dad wasn't going to let the matter go. John shifted on the couch, closing his eyes once more as Braden turned away. He turned to go back down the hallway as his father's eyes drifted closed again. And it was then that Braden's gaze caught on the backpack that his father had dropped by the door.

Hmmm…

He took a silent step towards it, only to cringe when his father spoke.

"Leave it alone, and go take your shower."

Well shit.

Quietly shutting the bathroom door behind him, he stripped out of his sweaty pajamas, and gratefully stepped into the hot spray of the shower, sighing as the water eased some of the tension in his body. Too bad his mind wasn't so easily subdued. As the water cascaded over him, his thoughts wandered back to the backpack.

Man, if I could just get a look at what's in there, then maybe I could figure out what the voice was up to—what it made me do. I mean, obviously he had something to do with what happened…and if I can figure out what exactly, then maybe I can figure out why. If I can just figure that much out, then maybe I can keep him from getting what he wants.

But there was a bigger question at stake, he knew, one that wouldn't be so easily answered, and with a sigh he realized that finding out the answer was probably going to be a bigger challenge than he feared.

What does he want?

A/N: Translation of Latin (roughly): "Come at my call, under concealment, come while no one knows of our presence and the senses are unaware. Come in darkness, as I call you now, for in the shadows we flourish." Like I said, I have no illusions that the Latin is grammatically accurate.

Okay, so there you have it—the plot thickens. Anyways, I hope you all will let me know what you think of the chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

eggylaine: So glad that you gave my story a chance, especially since it's not really your type of story. Thanks for the compliment about the long chapters, too—I hate that it takes me longer to update, but I hate short chapters, so I like to think it's worth the extra time to have longer chapters. You can definitely expect to see the POV changes in every chapter, though it's very likely that you won't see many John chapters, at least not any time soon. The focus has shifted to the others, since the issue with Braden is taking center stage—I want John to be separated from things a bit. Anyways, thanks so much for the review! Hope to continue hearing from you!

Sammyluvr83: Thanks for reviewing! Glad to hear you're enjoying it!

Hero Lilly: Aww, you're so sweet—you write such nice things! Sorry that I kept you waiting for so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! Thanks for reviewing!

rholou: You know, I'm quite partial to angsty Dean and hurt Dean as well, so you'll probably continue to see one or the other as the story goes along, with some angsty Braden thrown in for good measure. Oh, and I'm so glad you said you enjoyed the bit about the Sharpies in the last chapter—I thought it was fun, and it was nice to have someone mention it—lol! Anyways, thanks for the review!

Cowboy Steel: Glad you found the last chapter worth the wait—what did you think of this one? LOL! Thanks for dropping me a line—I appreciate it!

PRaCK: Okay, so you got your wish—Braden's back! What'd you think? Did you like it? New Aubrey chapter coming up next, which sort of delays the Sam chapter I promised, but based on your review, I guess I'm forgiven for that, since you got Braden back. So you have to keep your Sammy alive now! BTW, I'm totally going to get to your Chapter 5 now--I've been trying to finish up this chapter, so I haven't had a chance to beta Chp. 5 for you, but I'm going to get to it ASAP!

zuimar: You know, it's funny—I actually love John's character. He's just so brutally honest that it makes for a fun character to write. I dunno, just something about him—I tend to forgive him for his ass-like behavior. You're definitely of the same mind as one of my betas—she calls him a jerk (and worse) all the time—lol! He loves his kids, really, he does, but he doesn't always show it well (if at all). Oh well. Continue to expect that sort of thing from him. I hope you still enjoy the chapters anyway—after all, I'll always have an extra sibling around to make Dean (or whoever) feel better. Thanks for reviewing!

Jenmm31: Okay, so I'm so late with this update that not only does the chapter not count as a Christmas present, but it doesn't even count as a New Year's present. And I'm a bit too early for it to count as a Martin Luther King Jr. Day present…so uh…yeah, sorry. I'm also really sorry to have to break the news to you, but…well, Sammy's chapter has gotten pushed back, for at least one more chapter. Aubrey's got a chapter up next—I didn't exactly plan it that way, but I needed a slight delay before Sam's chapter, or this chapter was going to get massive. I wasn't too sure about the Aubrey chapter, but now that I'm about six or seven pages into it, I'm feeling pretty good about it. Anyways, I hope you'll bear with me—don't worry, you'll definitely get Sammy back soon!

alwaysjensen: Oh, thanks for reviewing! Don't feel bad about 'being lax' on reviewing—I get the same way with fics that I follow, as much as I hate to admit it. There are just some days when it seems so hard to press that Review Story button. I'm gonna do better, really! Anyways, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Thanks again for the review!

irishgirl9: I'm hoping that John's behavior in this chapter sort of made up for his harshness in the last chapter—hey, he didn't yell at Braden for what happened, so that's progress, right? I actually really like John, so I don't want to make him totally unsympathetic. I think he's a man who deeply cares for his children, but doesn't know the best way to show them. That and it sort of goes back to what Jim told Sam many, many chapters ago—John lives in constant fear that something will take what's left of his family, and he was definitely worried about Braden there in the last chapter. The fear doesn't exactly bring out the best in him…, that's my defense, anyway ;) So did I sort of redeem him in your eyes?

lblficwriter: Wow, you read the whole thing in one go?! I hope your posterior didn't go numb—I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed it so much! I was really touched by all of the lovely compliments you gave me, and I'm incredibly happy that you liked my version of John—I try not to make him too harsh, but some of my readers think he's sort of a jerk. LOL—actually, one of my betas can't stand him! I'm always glad to find someone who shares my love for John. Wow, you wrote so many nice things—I don't know what to respond to first! I guess Dean's my first love, so you'll likely see a lot of Dean angst and a lot of Dean chapters in the future. Braden and Aubrey are a little trickier to write, not so much because they're OCs, but because I aged them up so suddenly. They're at that age where they're still children, but they're also starting to gain that hormonal teenager vibe, and I'm sort of having to figure out their personalities all over again. Dude, it's sort of like going through puberty all over again—LOL! As far as Sam goes, well, he obviously didn't make it into the chapter physically this time around, but I like to think he still has a presence in the story—he'll make it back into the story physically in a few chapters, though, so don't worry! Anyways, thanks again for all that you wrote in your review (which you've probably forgotten by now, since it's been so long), and thanks for taking the time to review!!