Once again, your reviews were lovely. Thank you. Hope you enjoy chapter 6 as well.

Warning for creepiness ahead. But, then again, it's close to Hallowe'en, so I'm allowed

Chapter 6

I'm still the voice that speaks inside your head

The demon under your bed

I am the one who haunts your soul with devilish lust for fright

After Forever- Face your demons

Dean sat in the Blackstones' cookie-cut living room, his hands around a cup of coffee that he had not really wanted. Robert's wife had made it for him and then left in a huff. She clearly thought the conversation would be a waste of her time and energy. Robert did not seem too pleased to have Dean there, either.

"I really don't see why this is relevant," he said. "You can't think it's the same person from twenty years ago."

"Why don't you leave that to me to decide?" Dean asked.

Part of him felt bad. He was, essentially, stringing Robert Blackstone along. He still believed his daughter was out there, somewhere, and, until they got confirmation that the DNA in the 90-year-old corpse was, indeed, a match for Kelsey, he would keep on believing that. Dean did not like giving false hopes to grieving parents. But this was about Sam. When it came to Sam, there were a lot of lines Dean was willing to cross.

Robert tapped his fingers on his own coffee cup, thoughtfully.

"I remember it all, you know," he said, at length. "Funny that. I was pretty young back then, at the early start of my career. But something always stuck with me."

He got up and walked towards the window. He seemed nervous. Dean watched him carefully.

"So, I knew about the kids disappearing, but it didn't really matter back then, you know? And I'd vaguely heard about the FBI agents staying at the Bracegirdles' hotel – and that one of them had this scrawny twelve year old with him."

Dean's lips twitched involuntarily, hearing Blackstone describe Sam as "scrawny".

"So, one night this guy shows up on my doorstep with the kid," Blackstone went on. "Not his father. The other guy. That sent a lot of alarm bells ringing, I'll tell you that. Anyway, guy says the kid was missing for two days and had just been found in the woods. Kid looked a state, I can tell you that. He didn't even have shoes on, and two nights in the woods dressed as he was – well, it didn't do him any favors."

"What was wrong with him?" Dean asked, surprised that he could keep his tone casual, considering the subject of their conversation.

Blackstone grimaced.

"To be honest, I was sure he wasn't going to last the night, his fever was that high."

Dean's hands clenched against the coffee cup. He set it on the table gently, before he broke it by accident. What had he been doing then? Had he been cozying up with Robin? Performing one of Sonny's so-called character-building activities? Unaware that Sam had been dying, that a doctor had been certain Sam would not survive. Would he have felt it, if Sam had died? Would it had struck him, the sudden emptiness, the terrible knowledge that he was all alone? Or would he had gone on, blissfully unaware, until his father came for him to tell him Sam was gone for good?

"But…he did survive the night?"

He did not know if he was asking this to get Blackstone to start talking again, or because he suddenly needed confirmation that Sam had not died back then. That Sam was alive and well and had survived everything life had thrown at him.

"Well, I'm not one to allow a little pneumonia to challenge me," Blackstone said. "Besides, when his father came, he made it clear if his kid didn't survive, I'd be next. Somehow, I don't think he was bluffing."

"Did he say what happened to him?" Dean asked.

Blackstone resumed his seat at the table, across from Dean.

"When I say he was incoherent, I mean it. He was talking about rats – well, that's not surprising, we were having a rat infestation back then. He was also saying that someone was not going to allow him to be found – his kidnapper, I assume. But, here's where it gets strange. He talked a lot about someone showing him the future."

Dean tensed.

"Tell me exactly what he said about that."

Blackstone shook his head.

"I don't remember it exactly…"

"Well, try!" Dean cut him off.

If Blackstone was in any way suspicious of Dean's emotional outburst over someone who he claimed to be a virtual stranger, he did not show it.

"He was saying he knew he'd end up in hell. He said that over and over, actually. I don't know if his family was overly-religious…"

"They weren't," Dean said.

He had sprung from his chair, the restless energy that had taken over him making his limbs shake. He had left Sam alone in the hotel room – he had left Sam trying to remember.

"I've gotta go," he said curtly. "Thanks for your help."

"He was saying a name, though," Blackstone added. "I think I told your partner that, but I did not remember the exact name. Now I do. Dean. He was saying it repeatedly. Could it have been the person that took him? Was he trying to warn us?"

"He was calling for someone," Dean corrected harshly. "He wasn't trying to warn you, he just wanted someone to be there with him."

He tried to ignore that he was on the verge of tears and firmly told himself to keep it together. It was hard, though. The image of twelve-year-old Sammy sick and in pain and calling for him while he could not be there would haunt Dean's nightmares for the rest of his life.

Now was not the time for that, though. Sam had made it through that crisis, but he might be headed for another if he was not careful. And, if Dean had been unable to be by Sam's side then, he'd make damn sure to be with him now.

He dialed Sam's number, cursing when it went straight to voicemail.

"Dude, why the hell do you even have a phone, if you never answer when I call?" he snapped. "Listen, don't do anything stupid. Actually, don't do anything at all. Just sit tight until I get back, ok? We need to talk."

Switching off his phone, Dean ran in the direction of the hotel, desperately hoping Sam had not tried to remember anything on his own.

xxxXXXXxxxx

Sam would later justify himself by acknowledging that he had, indeed, thought about waiting for Dean to come back. However, this was about something that was taking kids. Jim Hayes might have escaped – unless the Piper had let him go – but the next child he took might not be so fortunate. Sam did not have time to wait. Besides, if he did remember everything, what was the worst thing that could happen afterwards?

He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He had been here before, he just needed to remember it. He tried to recall how he had felt back then. It was the first time it had been just him and his Dad. There had been lots of quarrels, the atmosphere had been tense. And Sam had missed Dean. He was pretty sure the main reason he had been so vulnerable in the first place was because he had missed Dean – had felt lost without him, like he did not belong anywhere. The Pied Piper probably focused on the kids who felt, however briefly, that they did not belong.

Sam focused on that feeling. He hadn't tried so hard to remember something before – not even the Hunt he did with his grandfather while soulless. Dean was probably going to blow several gaskets when he discovered how Sam was playing with fire in such a manner. But, if he got results, everything else didn't matter. Kids were dying. It was certainly worth the discomfort.

xxxxXXXXXxxxxx

He and Dad had one of their arguments that evening. Dad had gotten a lead and, of course, he wanted to go check it out immediately. He'd given Sam the usual spiel: stay safe, don't go out, don't answer the phone unless it rings with the established signal and don't try to do anything idiotic. The last one had Sam's hackles rising.

"Like what?" he snapped.

John frowned.

"There's no way you're going to talk to me like that, Sam. You know like what. After all, the reason you're here is because I can't trust you not to disappear from Bobby's due to some idiotic notion that's got into your head."

"I want to find my brother," Sam snapped. "What about you?"

"I want to find this bogeyman, Sam," John said sharply. "And whatever else is here. Kids are going missing and turning up dead – when they're turning up at all. Don't you care about that?"

"What about Dean?" Sam shouted, unable to keep it in any longer. "Dean's your kid, and he's missing! And you don't seem to give a damn."

Something dark and dangerous flashed in John's eyes.

"Don't you ever say that to me again, Sam? Understand?"

Sam stared back at his father, undaunted.

"Then give me a reason not to. Tell me we're going to find Dean, after this."

John's eyes were still hard, but Sam thought his father might give in. At least, he might tell Sam where Dean was. In the end, however, John simply turned and headed for the door.

"Watch out for yourself tonight, Sammy," he said in parting.

Sam shook his head.

"Usually there's Dean to watch out for me, you know," he muttered.

He wondered if he should hate himself for being a baby – but the truth was he did not feel safe. He hadn't been able to make himself feel safe without Dean being there.

xxxXXXXXxxxxx

Sam had been so upset after his fight with his father that he forgot to double check the wards before going to bed. He only remembered when he was already under the covers. Still feeling angry and rebellious, he decided not to bother. After all, Dad was bound to remind him of the error of his ways as soon as he came back from wherever he had gone.

He must have fallen into a light doze at some point. When he opened his eyes again, it was fully dark in the room. The light outside the hotel must have winked out. It was quiet outside. Sam couldn't even hear the dogs barking, and they had barked every night since he got there.

The music took him by surprise. At first, he was sure he was imagining it. It sounded so faint and far away, Sam took it as the echoes of his own dream. It seemed to get closer, though. There was nothing too special about it, Sam thought. Just somebody playing the flute or some other wind instrument. He was about to lie back down and try to get some more sleep when something about the music changed. Sam had no idea what it was, but, all of a sudden, he was certain it was playing for him.

There was a voice calling to him. Initially, Sam rebelled against it. Random voices calling to someone at night was not good news for a Hunter's kid. Suddenly, Sam regretted very much not checking the wards. Was it his imagination, or was something scuttling outside his room?

His fear vanished from his mind, though, when he started to pay more attention to the sound. He thought that a voice was calling to him, urging Sam to follow the song. Sam would find what he was looking for, if he followed the song. He would find Dean.

Sam flung the covers away from him, leaping out of bed. He was out the door before he could think more about what he was doing, nearly tripping over a stray rat. It did not even register to him. He snuck out of the hotel and crossed the street, following the song. His father's car was nowhere in sight, and Sam was glad. He was not sure his Dad would let him go. Perhaps he would go to find Dean himself, but the music told Sam that Dad could not help. Only Sam could find Dean. Only he could rescue his brother. He quickened his pace.

He must have been halfway across town when he registered the pain in his feet. He had left without putting any shoes on. That did not stop him, though. This was for Dean. Sam was ready to cross an entire field of rusty nails barefoot, if it meant getting to Dean.

It did not take him long to figure out that the song was coming from the woods. That was not a good sign, he told himself. He wondered if that was where the other children had been taken. He clenched his teeth against the fear and ploughed on.

The forest was dark around him. He could not hear anything except the flute. It was louder than before, more urgent. Then, Sam spotted the fallen tree-trunk, and the dark, bent figure, sitting there, playing a pipe. It was surrounded by rats.

"Take me to Dean," Sam ordered. "You said if I came to you, you could take me to Dean."

His voice was trembling. He realized he was terrified and hated himself for it. Had the roles been reversed, Dean would not have been afraid.

The figure grinned. Sam could not see its face clearly. Only the flash of white teeth and the red glow of its eyes.

"Are you sure you're here for Dean? Maybe you're here for yourself."

The voice was hoarse, and Sam was slightly surprised. He had expected it to sound sweet, like the flute.

Sam took a step forward. The rats were moving away from the figure and converging around him. Sam tried to ignore the feel of their fur touching his bare feet, or their wet noses on his skin.

"Take me to Dean. Please."

Never beg to them. It had been something his father had taught Sam as soon as he had discovered he had found out about the family business. If Sam was ever in a confrontation with a supernatural entity, he was not to show weakness. He was not to plead with them. That would only reveal how vulnerable he was. But Sam was vulnerable now. He was a child, all alone in the dark with some unknown creature, and the only thing he wanted was his big brother. And he was going to beg, if that was what it took.

The figure advanced towards Sam. He noticed it never let go of the pipe. Distantly, he wondered why it was clutching the instrument so possessively. Then, he forgot about that as the Piper reached out a cold hand and grabbed Sam's arm. Sem felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing him. He tried to pull away but found out he could not move.

"Dean doesn't want to be found," the Piper said.

"You're lying," Sam accused. "Dean won't ever run away from us. And he'll always want to find me."

The Piper was now dragging Sam towards the fallen tree. The rats were following him like some funeral cortege.

"He wouldn't want to, though, if he knew what I know," the Piper said. "I know your future, Sam. I can show it all to you. Just let me know what you want to see."

Another thing John had tried to drill into his sons was that one never made bargains with the things they hunted. They lied and they twisted their deals, and everything they offered mortals came with a terrible price. But if the Piper could show him Dean – well, it didn't hurt to try, did it?

"What do you know that you think Dean would not want to find me?" he asked. "Show me that."

The Piper's grip tightened and Sam winced. Dimly, he thought he should not have felt that much pain just from someone clutching at his arm. It felt as if his very soul was being twisted inside out. Then, he realized it was not from the Piper's grip. That was only calling forth Sam's fear and terror. But the pain came from somewhere else. It came from the future.

And suddenly, Sam knew. He could not understand it, but he knew. He saw himself as the instrument of utter evil, saw himself bringing Dean nothing but death and ruin. Saw himself enduring torments no one had ever endured, locked somewhere with the devil himself. The flames and the pain took hold of him until Sam became part of them. Until that all-consuming torment was all Sam knew and all he would ever know.

xxxXXXXXXXxxxxx

It took him some time to register that he was on his knees, breathing heavily like he had just run to the forest and back several times. It took him even more to feel the hands clutching at his shoulders and hear the voice talking to him. It was a familiar voice, the only constant in his ever-shifting reality. The only thing he had to return to.

"Sam? C'mon, Sammy, come back to me…Sam, answer me right now, damn it!"

Dean. Dean alternating between barking orders on a tone that would have made John Winchester proud and begging Sam to remain by his side. It must be bad, Sam thought dimly, if Dean was ready to resort to pleading.

The thought of Dean so spooked was enough to make Sam pull himself back to reality. He reached out a shaky hand and clutched the arm Dean had on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and saw Dean kneeling in front of him, looking as though he was afraid his world was going to end then and there. Sam tightened his grip, offering and asking for comfort at the same time.

"Hey," Sam muttered breathlessly.

Dean's lips twitched in an involuntary show of amusement.

"Hey yourself. You OK?"

Sam took a deep breath, taking stock of himself for the first time.

"I…I think so. I mean, I'm here."

Dean's shoulders sagged as he tried to hide his concern. He helped Sam up and pushed him in the armchair by the window. Sam leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He was feeling more unsettled than he liked to admit.

He sat there listening to Dean moving about the room. He heard the sound of running water, then footsteps approaching him. His eyes snapped open when Dean nudged him.

"Here," Dean said, handing him a paper cup filled with water. "Drink up, looks like you need it."

Sam gulped the water, spilling half of it on himself, since his hands were still shaking. He was starting to feel much better, though, more anchored in the present and not being bombarded by the ghosts of his past. He looked up at his brother.

"You're an idiot," Dean said abruptly.

Sam let out an annoyed huff.

"Thanks. What for this time?"

Dean dragged a chair and sat down in front of Sam.

"What do you mean, for what? I walk into the room and find you hyperventilating and shaking on the floor and you have the nerve to ask me for what? What did you do, Sam? What made you think poking around in that messed-up head of yours while you were on your own would be a good idea?"

Sam could have said he had been trying to figure out what had happened with the Pied Piper and had no intention of going anywhere near the Hell wall, only he had received enough hints from Greenberg to have a pretty good guess about what he would see. Besides, he did not want to start lying to Dean again.

"I thought about waiting for you," he admitted. "But…."

"But then decided not to," Dean finished. "Which brings me to my initial conclusion. You're an idiot."

Sam shrugged. He was too tired to rise to Dean's baiting – besides, he did not think any arguments he might have would be convincing enough in this situation.

"I went to see Blackstone," Dean said. "We talked about you. The Piper made you see things from the future, right?"

Sam took a deep breath.

"It was more than that," he admitted. "It was like, being offered the full experience of what would happen. And he was doing something to me while he was showing me all those things…Like, draining me, I think?"

"What, like your energy?" Dean asked. "Is that why Kelsey Blackstone returned looking as if she was ninety?"

Sam thought about it.

"More like my emotions. Terror, loneliness, shame. Everything that his visions caused me, he was feeding on them."

He noticed Dean's stony expression and he shook his head.

"I keep saying he. The thing is, I don't really know if it was a he. All I saw was a hooded figure with a multicolored cloak."

Dean frowned at that.

"Yes, but, the Pied Piper is a dude, right? That's what the stories say."

"The original Pied Piper, yes. But, we're not talking about the original here. That one had his vengeance when he kidnapped the kids of Hamelin. This one is someone else."

"All right," Dean said. "Let's leave who it might be for a while. I think you should tell me everything you remember, Sam."

xxxXXXXxxxx

Sam took a deep breath and spent the next half hour telling Dean all that he remembered about the first Hunt in Rattigan. He did not leave anything out. He talked about his attempt to run away at Bobby's that had led to Dad taking him on the Hunt in the first place. He mentioned the overheard conversation between Bobby and John and Sam's persistent fear that his brother was dead. That had no bearing on the Pied Piper Hunt, he thought, but now that he had started spilling his guts, he found that he could not stop.

He then went on to talk about John's conviction that there was something more than the boogeyman and about Greenberg's suggestion to use Sam as bait - which he eventually did, after sending John on a wild goose chase. Sam mentioned how he heard the song and had the unwavering conviction that it would lead him to Dean. He finished by mentioning the Pied Piper's words about the future and about how Dean might not want to be found by Sam, if he knew the future. He did not talk about what the Pied Piper had showed him, though, and Dean did not press him for details, either.

After his confession, Sam felt drained. It was as if he had turned his soul inside out and laid anything bare for Dean to see. But he had never regretted showing Dean his weaknesses before. He would not regret it now.

Dean, meanwhile, had that thunderous look on his face that told the world he was about to commit murder. He moved away from the chair in a fit of restless energy.

"That bastard Greenberg," he said through clenched teeth. "When I get my hands on him…"

Sam smiled slightly, because leave it to Dean to get fixated on that.

"Dean, he didn't really do anything. He just…"

"Used you as bait, Sam. He put you in danger."

"Dean, it was a long time ago," Sam reasoned. "I was…"

"Twelve," Dean interrupted soberly. "You were a kid and he put you at risk. How can you be sure he hasn't done the same with other kids, too? How can you be sure he won't in the future?" are you really willing to let someone like Greenberg walking around without warning him what happens to people of his type?"

Now that he thought better of it, of course Dean had a point.

"We can't do anything about Greenberg just yet," Sam said. "Let's just focus on the Pied Piper. I think we should talk to some of the people who knew the first set of victims. Then compare it with these new victims. See what the pattern is. The Pied Piper must choose them for a reason."

"And then what?" Dean asked. "Find the douche with a grudge against the town?"

Sam shrugged.

"Or against a specific person in town. Then at least we'll know who we're dealing with."

"Our best bet is still the forest, though. That's where the kids disappeared."

"And that's where the Piper probably has the most power," Sam agreed. "We'll have another go at the forest afterwards."

At least I've got the boys more or less on the same page again ;) Let's see what else we can do…To be continued…soon.

Note on flashback (and, maybe on any potential pre-series stories, if there'll ever be any): Just so you know, I don't hate John Winchester. He's a complex character, who did what he thought was best with a crappy situation, but who could have definitely done better. He's both traumatized his kids and helped them become the men they grew up to be (even though I think Sam and Dean more or less raised each other, their father's influence still can't be denied). It's this dual nature of his that I'll try to portray in my stories.