Well, here is the next chapter. Thank you all for sticking with this story. You make an old gal happy! Warning: TISSUE ALERT!!!

Cindy.

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Dean awoke abruptly, not quite sure what it was that startled him. He sat up, noting he was fully clothed and sleeping in Sam's bed. Sam! He jerked his head to where Sam should be, his sleep slowed mind taking a few moments to comprehend that his brother was not there. Dean scooted across the bed, slapping Daniel's foot as he sprang to his feet. Daniel jerked awake, his surprised eyes staring up at Dean.

"What the hell Dean?!" Daniel cried.

"Sam's gone!" Dean replied as he ran out of the room.

Daniel sprang from the chair and followed Dean into the livingroom, holding his ribs tightly. He then ran to the kitchen to see if Sam was there.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean yelled, his eyes scanning the room.

Daniel returned from the kitchen, shaking his head at Dean's inquiring look. The two brothers looked to the staircase when they heard three distinct footfalls pounding down the stairs. Three very disheveled and panicked men ran into the room.

"What! What's wrong?" John cried, his dark hair sticking out at odd angles from his head.

"Sammy's gone! I woke up and he was gone, Dad," Dean cried, running for the door and ripping it open.

Dean ran out onto the porch followed by the three oldest hunters. Daniel started after them but stopped when he heard something from across the room. He made his way toward the barely audible sound and found himself outside the bathroom door. He tried the knob, finding the door locked. He pressed his ear to the door, hearing the shower running and something else that he couldn't make out. He softly rapped on the door, trying the knob again.

"Sam? Hey kiddo, unlock the door. It's Daniel. Will you let me in please?" Daniel called through the door, his anxiety growing steadily.

Daniel turned when he heard the other men reenter the cabin. Dean glanced at him quizzically. Suddenly realizing that Sam had been found, he hurried across the room.

"He's in there?" Dean asked as he reached Daniel. John, Bobby and Caleb stepped up behind Dean as Daniel answered.

"Yeah. Shower's running, but I can't get in. Door's locked. Something's wrong. I can hear something but I can't tell what."

"Kick it in," Dean said, preparing to barrel through the door.

"No Dean! That'll just scare him," Daniel cried.

"Well, we have to get in Dan!"

"Pick it Dean. Pick the lock," Daniel said.

"Shit! Yeah, okay."

Dean ran upstairs and returned a few minutes later. He kneeled in front of the door and had it unlocked in seconds. He carefully pushed the door open and peeked his head into the room. The other men crowded the door and they all waited for the steam that filled the room to dissapate. What they saw and finally heard broke their hearts.

Sam stood in the shower, stripped down to his boxers, his skin red and raw. He was scrubbing viciously over his body, blood mixing with soap and water where stitches had been pulled free. He was not aware of the audience he now had, didn't even appear to see the room around him. Dean and Daniel stepped forward, but stopped when Sam started speaking again.

"Dirty. So dirty. Have to get clean...Never be clean again. Always be dirty. No one will love me. Too dirty..." Sam chanted, his words trailing off to indistinguishable murmurs.

"Sammy? What're you doing kiddo?" Dean asked softly as he neared the tub.

Sam continued to scrub and murmur, unaware of anyone's presence. His eyes were red and puffy, his pupils dilated to the point that no color but black was visible. He moved to grab the soap and a collective gasp filled the room when he slipped, nearly tumbling from the tub. Dean reached out, grabbing his arm to stop his fall. Sam jerked back at the touch, pushing into the corner and sliding down the tiles until he sat, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. He shivered uncontrollably despite the scalding water and he dropped his head to his knees.

"Please...leave me alone. No more...please, no more," he pled, the words muffled but audible.

Dean kneeled beside the tub then reached over and shut off the water.

"Sam? Look at me. It's Dean. Nobody's going to hurt you again. We're all here and we won't let anything else happen to you," Dean said softly, wanting to reach in and pull Sam into his arms, but knowing that would only frighten his brother more.

Sam slowly lifted his head and looked out from beneath wet bangs, his eyes full of pain and despair. "D-Dean?" he whispered fearfully.

"Yeah kiddo. It's me. What are you doing in here?"

"I...I can't get clean. I can... I can still feel him on me. Still smell him. I'm dirty. I'll never be clean. Please don't look at me, I don't want you to see," Sam cried softly as tears spilled from his eyes.

"Oh Sammy. You're not dirty. He's gone and he's not coming back. Please, let me help you. Let us help you," Dean pled, reaching tentatively for his brother.

Sam cowered further back, his eyes widening in panic. "I'm garbage. I'm not worth anything. I deserved all of this. I deserve to die..."

"Don't say that! Don't you dare say that Sam!" Dean cried, causing the younger boy to jump.

"I'm sorry Dean, it's true though. This is my punishment. God is punishing me..."

"For what Sam? What do you need to be punished for?" Dean asked wearily.

"For being a bad son; a bad brother. For...for killing Mom..." Sam's chin dropped to his chest as sobs began to wrack his body.

The three older Winchesters exchanged pained glances as Daniel and John neared the tub. Bobby leaned against the doorframe, his head lowered and his heart heavy while Caleb turned away, his hands on his head, fingers entwined.

"Sammy, you are the best brother Dean and I could ever hope for," Daniel said softly as he sat on the edge of the tub. "And Dad couldn't ask for a better son."

"It's true Sam," John's gruff but soft voice said. "We may have our disagreements, but you've always been a wonderful son."

Sam looked at his family, his eyes settling on John. "What about Mom? She's gone because of me. It's my fault she's dead."

"No Sam. Nothing is your fault. Not your mom's death, not Wilcox. Now I know we haven't talked about your letter yet, but I can tell you this. In no way are you responsible for what happened to your mom. Whomever did that to her, whether they were after you or not, is responsible. Not you son."

"But God must think so Dad. That's why He let Wilcox hurt me. It's my punishment. Now...I can't wash him away. I'll always be dirty...I'll always be unworthy of anyone's love."

"Oh Sam. God didn't send Wilcox to punish you. You have nothing to be punished for. You are not dirty and you are more worthy of love than anybody," Daniel said softly.

Sam shook his head and slowly stood. He started once again to scrub with the cloth he still held. His tears continued to fall as he scrubbed harder and harder. He looked up at his distraught family sadly.

"I'll never be clean. I can still feel him. Always dirty...never clean," Sam murmured. "Please don't hate me. I'm sorry...so sorry."

Dean climbed into the tub and grasped Sam's wrist, stopping the scrubbing. Sam pulled back, trying to get as far away from Dean as possible. Dean gently pulled Sam to him, wrapping his arms around his trembling brother. Sam tensed, fighting to get away but soon the fighting stopped and Sam relaxed into his brother's embrace, burying his face into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean whispered softly to his baby brother as he carefully maneuvered him out of the tub and into the waiting arms of Daniel.

"We could never hate you Sam," Daniel whispered as he embraced the shivering teenager. "You're everything to us kiddo. Don't you know that? Don't you know how much we need you?"

Sam gazed up at his oldest brother, disbelief in his eyes. Daniel smiled warmly as he took the towel John offered him. He began to dry Sam, gently pushing him down to sit on the toilet lid. John kneeled down, examining Sam's wounds.

"Well Sammy," he said softly. "Looks like you pulled a few stitches. We'll just fix that up and get you bandaged again, then it's time for your meds and back to bed."

Sam peered at John, smiling timidly when he saw no anger in his father's eyes.

"Sorry Dad," he muffled, lowering his eyes.

John reached his fingers beneath Sam's chin and gently raised his face up. He smiled reassuringly at his youngest.

"Sam, you have nothing to be sorry for. You are my son and I love you more than life. You mean the world to me and I promise we are going to get through this. Together."

Sam stared at his father then suddenly lunged forward, wrapping his arms around John's back. He laid his head on John's shoulder and wept. John wrapped his arms around his son, resting his cheek on Sam's head, breathing in the scent of his hair. A single tear trickled down John's cheek as he pulled his baby closer to him. He vowed to himself and to his beloved Mary that he would do whatever it took to get his enthusiastic, vibrant and brilliant son back. Wilcox would not win. Sam would not be ruined. Not if John Winchester had anything to say about it.

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That's it for now. I'll probably only post one chapter per day for now...at least until the weekend. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.

Cindy.