Thanks to nightrider67, YellowEyedSam, and souless666 for your reviews and ideas! I will definitely be incorporating some of these things in the coming chapters.

I try really hard to do my research for my stories and keep anachronisms to a minimum. But I just couldn't resist using the song mentioned in the fic. It came out in 2012, so please forgive me. It just worked too well!

He angrily pressed his speed dial again and tucked the phone to his ear as he pressed down on the gas pedal.

"Hello, Dean."

"Finally! Where the hell did you go?!"

"Something very strange happened in La Crosse. I encountered another angel, Apsinthion. Once I realized what was going on, we tried to find your brother, but when we got close, we were blasted away by a sudden, indomitable divine force. I have just now recovered myself and my vessel."

Dean suppressed his anger; it didn't sound like this was Cas's fault. Hell, he'd seen the crater with his own two eyes. An 'indomitable divine force'? He'd bet anything Lucifer fit the bill.

"Are you alright? Do you know what did it?"

"I am fine. It was no worse than being cast away by a banishing sigil. I don't know, but I have no doubt Sam was involved. Did you find him?"

"No. They were already gone by the time I got there. There was just a huge crater left in one part of town. No trace of Sam or the hunters. There was one survivor by the time I got there, I think it was a demon. He said Lucifer did it."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "Yes, Lucifer would be powerful enough to do such a thing. That is a likely explanation."

"Do you think he was there for Sam?"

"Who knows why Lucifer does what he does. It's certainly a possibility."

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "Goddammit!" he growled. "We were so close! Guess I should have listened to you. Going out to La Crosse was pointless. I think it's best we go talk to Lindsey."

"I can take you there immediately. Where are you now?"

"I'm on my way back to Bobby's. Let me get the Impala situated and get everything else stocked up. Don't know what we're gonna be dealing with."

"How long until you arrive?"

"Uhh, about four hours, depending on how many cop cars I see along the way."

"And how long have you been awake?"

"I, um… I don't see how that's important."

"Dean." He could just see the grumpy look on the angel's face, Castiel's paternal admonishment evident in his tone. "I have told you before. You need to take care of yourself if you're going to help Sam. Get some rest at Bobby's and we will go once you wake."

Dean didn't want to waste any more time, especially since he had gone on a fool's errand pursuing Sam's captors a state away. But a few more hours wouldn't change anything. "Fine," he acquiesced. "But I'm calling you the moment I wake up."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you."

Dean had barely finished putting on his boots when he called Castiel. "I'm ready."

Within seconds, that all too familiar flutter of wings graced his ears and Castiel was standing before him, his features grim. "How do you propose we do this?" he asked.

"You said she was in rehab, right?"

"She is at St. Monica's Behavioral Health Services for Women."

"Yeah, Cas, that sounds like a rehab." He rolled his eyes. "They're probably not gonna look too fondly on two dudes in there if it's only for women. Walking up and asking to visit isn't gonna work. Best bet is probably you just teleporting us in as close as you can get to her. Well, make you sure you add in some personal space," Dean added, partially amused, partially fed-up with his too-close encounters with the angel.

"I will take that into consideration," Cas murmured as he put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Deep nausea punched its way into Dean's gut and he kept his eyes closed, riding out the swelling waves lurching around his body. "God, I'll never get used to that," he complained aloud.

A scream penetrated his discomfort and he opened his eyes, the sound of a running shower finally registering as he looked around. He was in a communal bathroom and only one stall had the curtain closed. A shocked face was poking out, staring at him, its owner frantically wrapping herself in the curtain.

"What the hell are you doing in here?! This is the women's bathroom! Get out of here, you pervs!"

Dean recognized her face and put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Are you Lindsey Kangas?"

She halted her movement, one that would have resulted in a fair amount of shampoo covering Dean. Her eyes narrowed. "Who's asking?" She turned the shower off and grabbed a towel.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. You know my brother, Sam – well, you probably knew him as Keith."

Her features instantly softened and before he understood what was happening, damp arms embraced him and wet hair was pressed against his face. He looked at Cas, who seemed just as confused as he was, and awkwardly put his arms around her.

"Oh my God, Sam, it's horrible, he—, I tried, I really did, and I tried to get to Sioux Falls, like he told me to, but this place is locked down and it's crazy and he let them and he did it for me and every day it kills me and—" she blurted out quickly, all her words rushing together. Her voice broke in a sob and she squeezed Dean harder.

"Okay, okay Lindsey, we can talk about it, but we need to go somewhere else, someone might find us here."

She withdrew her arms and looked up at him. "Can you get me out of this place? Please, I need to get out of here. They think they're helping but it's only making it worse."

Dean ran his hand through his hair, thinking. He had no idea why she was here, what she was in rehab for, but her earnest expression and sincere concern for Sam left him with no other option. "Of course. No problem."

"Great!" she exclaimed. "Let me grab my things and we can go."

She led them out of the bathroom, peeking around the corners to make sure no one would see them. They walked briskly down the hall and to her room. She knocked and seemed relieved to hear no answer.

"Got a roommate," she offered as an explanation. "Come on!" she beckoned them inside and closed the door. She picked up some clothes and then looked at the two men pointedly. "Turn around while I get dressed." Dean suppressed a smile as Castiel opened his mouth, clearly to ask 'why?', before Dean just grabbed his arm and spun him around. "How did you find me?"

Cas again seemed poised to answer but Dean preempted him, deciding that revealing the existence of angels might be a bit too much for the woman right now. "I was trying to find Sam, tracked him to the bar in Garber. Convinced your boss to give me your name. Eventually found the police reports and was able to hack your medical records. I'm sorry for doing that, but finding my brother is my priority."

"You can turn around now," she stated quietly, grabbing a bag and throwing in her belongings carelessly. "I totally get it, Dean, I understand. And you need to find him, it's… it's bad…" She was tearing up again and her grief was doing nothing to quell Dean's ever-growing anxiety.

"What happened?" Cas asked when Dean found himself unable to speak.

"It's a long story," she replied, obviously struggling to calm herself down. "Can we go before I start? Don't want my crying to give us away as we flee the scene." She smiled sadly.

Dean bit his lip, already seeing why she and her brother had clicked. He nodded. "Thing is, we won't be making a great escape. I'll explain it in a second, but for now, just take Cas's hand, and trust us."

Lindsey sniffed and stood tall, her bag slung over her shoulder in a show of attempted confidence. She grasped Castiel's outstretched hand. Cas put his hand on Dean and then they were gone.

Dean found himself winded and staggered to the couch immediately. Two angel flights in fifteen minutes were definitely gonna do a number on all his internal processes. Lindsey gasped at the new surroundings, seemingly unfazed by the physical weirdness of divine teleportation.

"What… How… I…"

Castiel bobbed his head in sympathy. "I am an angel of the Lord. We just flew, though our 'flying' is more akin to the bending of spacetime to meet our needs."

She stared at him and blinked a few times before letting her bag slump to the floor. "That… Well, I guess that makes sense. If there are demons, then there would be angels…"

Dean instantly suppressed his bodily complaints and focused on Lindsey. "You know about demons?!"

She gulped and found her way to a seat. "I know a whole lot more than that…" She paused and looked down, preparing herself. She took a deep breath. "Let me start from the beginning."

Before she got a chance to say anything, Bobby wheeled himself in and glared at Dean. "You're not gonna introduce me to our guest or offer her anything? Thought we raised you better than that, boy!"

Dean ducked his head and inspected the floor. "Sorry, Bobby."

"Wait, are you Bobby Singer?!" Lindsey exclaimed.

The older hunter seemed confused. "Yeah, at your service…"

Lindsey smiled weakly. "Sam, he…" She swallowed again and steadied herself. "One of the last things he said to me was to find you. And I tried, I did, I just couldn't, not with what happened and…"

"Hey, it's alright, you're here now. Why did Sam want you to find me?"

"He said I had to find you, that you were a," she hurried out, "that you were a hunter and that you would teach me what I needed to know to protect myself."

Bobby nodded. Always looking out for others even though he's the one who needs help! "Yeah, that sounds like him… Can you tell us what happened?"

She nodded and inhaled deeply, staring at the floor. "Sam had always been super misterioso ever since he showed up but I didn't think it was anything more than a front. He didn't really talk, would just come in, work his shift and any overtime that was offered and then some, and disappear."

Sam not talking? Is that even possible for him? Dean thought to himself, almost needing to suppress a smirk until he remembered how few words would sometimes come out of a sullen teenage Sammy, especially when he didn't have time to do his homework because a hunt didn't go exactly as planned. Like they ever do!

"One day this group of guys came in, said they were hunting buddies with Sam's dad. They seemed friendly, had a few beers, left without a fuss. After close, I guess they came back, the tall black guy, Reggie, grabbed me when I was taking out the trash and threatened me with a knife, and dragged me inside. Another guy was in there… Sam got Reggie to put the knife down then said that 'what the demon said, it's all true' and then they made Sam admit what happened – that he started the Apocalypse."

Finally, a fucking lead! Dean tried to remember a Reggie but no one came to mind. He was shocked Lindsey was handling this so well, though considering they'd found her in a rehab center, maybe she wasn't really doing that well.

"Lindsey," Bobby rasped, his voice wavering. "The other man with Reggie, was he short with blonde hair and a gruff attitude?"

Lindsey nodded adamantly. "Yeah, exactly like that. He and Reggie seemed to be partners, with another guy named Steve, but from what I could tell, demons killed Steve."

Bobby hunched over in his wheelchair and covered his face with his hands. "Oh God, this is all my fault!"

"What?! How could this be your fault?" Dean's attention was laser focused on Bobby.

The older hunter was still for a few more moments before lowering his hands. "Sam – there was, he–" Bobby took a deep breath then started again. "Sam called me to report some demon signs. I told him he should take care of it, but he wanted to stay out of it. So I called up another hunter I knew, Tim Janklow, and gave him the job. I didn't think he'd be capable of anything like this but—"

Dean inhaled to release a shout but Lindsey interrupted him. "He actually said something about that. The blonde guy, uh, Tim wanted Sam to drink something and Sam refused. He threatened—"

Dean blanched but tried to maintain his composure. "Could you tell what it was?"

"It was in a little vial… It looked almost black in the light. He said it was 'go juice', that Sam would drink it and 'hulk out'."

Dean turned away and ran his hand through his hair, doing his best to push down the panic rising in him. These hunters knew all about Sam, the Apocalypse, and demon blood. No way this was ending well for Sammy.

Lindsey watched Dean pace anxiously. "They told him to drink it or they'd kill me. Sam said 'you wouldn't do that' but Tim just responded something like 'It's funny how watching your best friend die changes that.' Sam looked real scared, then they started fighting and they pinned him and forced his mouth open and poured it in."

God, Sammy, I never should have left you alone. Dean clenched his jaw so hard his teeth started to ache.

"But Sam spit it out into Tim's eyes and fought 'em off and he was gonna kill Tim with Reggie's knife then he looked at me and he stopped." She paused to wipe a single tear away from her cheek. Dean felt his chest fill with pride when he heard Sam had spit it out. He'd been so hard on Sam recently, and rightly so, but he was still proud his brother would choose to do the right thing, even when it must be difficult. "As bad as it sounds, I wish he'd done it. Maybe he'd be okay right now..."

Still facing away from Lindsey, Dean asked "then what happened?"

"He told them to leave and they said they'd be back. And they were… Sam helped me calm down and clean up then told me he'd be gone by morning. I thought it was over. But Reggie was in my apartment when I got home… He grabbed me and told me if I tried to scream or get away, they'd kill me and Sam, when they got him."

"Lindsey, I am so sorry you got dragged into all this. This is my fault. I sent Tim and Reggie there, thought they'd be able to handle it…" Bobby looked crestfallen and defeated.

Lindsey sniffled and smiled weakly. "It's not your fault these guys are crazy. It's not Sam's fault either."

Dean turned back around and focused on Lindsey, unable to spare a glance towards Bobby without exploding. "How'd they get Sam?" he forced out.

"Tim followed him home. Reggie brought me back and then they waited til Sam left his place. They followed him on the highway til he pulled over at a gas station. While he was inside, Tim put something in his gas tank that caused the engine to seize up later. They jumped him on the side of the road and put him in the trunk. They must have knocked him out because I didn't hear anything."

"What did they want?" Bobby murmured.

"Tim wanted Sam to kill the demons that killed his friend. We drove to a house and they dragged Sam out, then used me as collateral to force Sam to play along. This man came out, it had to be the demon because he had black eyes, and before I knew it, Sam had his arm stretched out and the demon was like frozen, then this black smoke was pouring out of his mouth and into the ground."

"Dammit!" Dean yelled, fury and worry fueling his strength as his arm swiped several stacks of books and papers off a desk. Lindsey and Bobby jumped in their seats and stared at Dean. "He's back on the blood, the exact thing we split up to avoid in the first place!"

"It wasn't his choice!" Lindsey defended. "He only did it because of me!"

Dean let out a harsh breath through pursed lips and forced himself to calm a fraction. "I know, I know, it's just, this is a lot to take in…"

"I haven't even gotten to the worst part…" Lindsey said quietly.

Dean's head snapped over to scrutinize her face. "What?" he snarled.

Lindsey flinched and put her head down.

"Dean," Bobby growled. "This ain't easy for any of us. We should let her finish then we'll figure out what to do."

Dean nodded and sat down again, his lips pressed in a thin, pale line.

"Sam went inside and Tim followed him. I heard gun shots and Reggie brought me back to the car before I could tell if Sam was alright. I thought they'd killed him, but he was alive, I guess he was just unconscious. They brought us to an empty house and put us in the basement. They—" Her voice faltered and she wiped away another tear. "They tortured him for information about Lucifer and the Apocalypse. It just seemed to make them more and more angry and Tim was just wailing on him… Sam seemed real out of it, he freaked out when I went to check on him. Later he told me he was hallucinating that I was a demon named Lilith."

Dean and Bobby exchanged grieving looks. Neither were sure how much more they could take.

"When he seemed a little more glued in, Sam, God, he, it was so sweet, he was so focused on trying to make sure I was okay and figuring out how I would escape. He didn't care about himself at all."

Both a familiar warmth and piercing fear spread through Dean. It was a relief to hear that his real brother, the generous, selfless, nameless hero, was still in there. He'd had plenty of reasons to doubt the good side of Sam still existed. But it could also mean that Sam was giving up, that he knew he wouldn't make it out of this, so he was willing to sacrifice himself for Lindsey. That wasn't a thought Dean wanted to entertain any longer than necessary. "Then what? Did he get you out?"

"Well, kind of. They overheard us talking and they made a deal: if Sam cooperated with whatever they wanted, and didn't try to fight, they'd give me a chance to escape. I told Sam not to but he agreed. Turns out they wanted to use Sam as bait for something… They took us to this clearing by an abandoned mine and tied us both to a post in the middle. Then, like they were doing us a favor or something, they…" Lindsey glanced up at Dean then back to the floor, "they shot him in the knee."

"Fuck!" Dean cried out and Bobby just winced in sympathy.

"Sam said it was so the monster would focus on him and I'd have a chance to get away…" Tears were dripping more steadily now, her eyes becoming red. "He told me to find you, Bobby, because you'd know what to do, know how to keep me safe. Then this eerie sound came out of the woods, and got so loud we felt like our eardrums were gonna burst. Sam cried out and said something stabbed him." Tears began flowing in earnest and sobs started choking her voice. "Then this… thing floated out… it had glowing red eyes and thin skin covering its bones. Sam said it was there for him. It had this club and it swung it at the post, breaking it. It grabbed Sam and I wanted to— I tried—but he told me to run and not look back! It was dragging him away and there was so much blood and, and…" Her throat locked up and she crunched in on herself.

"Dean!" Bobby urged, "she's hyperventilating!"

Dean shook himself out of his stupor and stepped over to her, rubbing her back and whispering the sweet nothings he wished he could be giving to Sam instead. "C'mon, breathe with me, in, out, in, out, in, out… It'll be okay, I got ya, breathe, breathe…"

Several minutes of this calmed her enough so that she could speak again. She glanced up at Dean. "I'm guessing you haven't found him yet…" she panted through weak sobs.

Dean shook his head. "No, we haven't, but we're pretty sure he's still alive." He has to be.

"So now what?" she asked, her teary eyes pleading with Dean for an answer.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. "Well, first thing to do would be call up Tim and Reggie." He dragged his eyes to study Bobby's face, forcing himself to temper his glare.

Bobby ducked his gaze to the floor. "I had already called them while looking for Sam. They said the last time they'd seen him was Garber."

"Fucking liars!" Dean shouted, resisting the urge to destroy something. "Call them again."

Bobby reached over for his phone and address book. He dialed the number and put it on speakerphone. "The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected…"

This time Dean gave in and toppled another stack of books.

"What if you go to the Roadhouse? With the amount of traffic there, I'm sure you'll get a lead," Bobby offered quietly.

"What's the Roadhouse?" Lindsey asked.

"Hunter bar. Lots of people stop in for information, weapons exchanges, shoot the shit," Bobby explained.

Lindsey nodded. "Alright. Let's go then."

Dean whipped his head to look at her. "Wait, what?"

She stood and stared at Dean defiantly. "You really think I'm gonna just let this go? Ditch Sam? No, I'm helping you find him! So let's go to the Roadhouse."

"But you're not a hunter…"

"No, but I can tend a bar."

He narrowed her eyes, assessing her. "Is that a good idea? Considering we just busted you out of rehab."

She looked away and sniffed, before crossing her arms and composing herself. "I got this. I messed up before. But I can do this, for Sam."

"How'd you end up in that place anyway?"

Lindsey looked down and let her hair fall in front of her face to shield her eyes. "I ran til I found a road. I picked a direction and followed the road that way. It was the middle of night in the middle of nowhere, so no one came by. I was scared that if anyone did, it might be Tim and Reggie coming to check on us, so I'm not sure I woulda flagged down a car anyway. I finally came across a bar on the outskirts of town… I thought I'd be okay to go in and use their phone, but I was so shaken up I couldn't even talk. I told myself I'd have just one drink to calm my nerves… well… Not soon after, I'm blackout drunk and causing a ruckus so they call the cops. The cops then call my family and they send me to the nearest rehab in Lincoln. Been there ever since. I tried telling one of the counsellors what happened and they said I must have severe alcohol-induced brain damage, so they wouldn't release me under my own power. I know they're just trying to help, but no one who's seen this stuff can be completely sane and sober all the time!"

"Yeah, we hear ya," Dean admitted and Bobby nodded in agreement. "We've both been through things no one should have to bear…"

They sat in silence for a long moment, each recollecting their own experienced horrors.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Let's do it. We'll go to the Roadhouse and see if we can get anything useful. I don't know what else to do…"

Lindsey leaned forward and grabbed his free hand, a determined grimace on her face. "We'll find him. I know we will. Let's go."

Trapped within his own mind, he could do nothing but watch as his body was degraded by every form of abuse imaginable. Drawing on his college psychology course, he suspected his mind had splintered as a means to protect itself but it was pointless: he still saw and felt what the other parts of him experienced. He knew Lucifer was behind it somehow, probably just one more way the archangel was trying to force him into saying 'yes'.

Lucifer visited more frequently, even when he wasn't resurrecting him, but he was determined to ignore the fallen angel. He would turn and walk to the opposite side of his frozen prison.

So Lucifer started making the open area smaller and smaller.

Eventually he was unable to walk away when Lucifer appeared, completely surrounded by crystal clear ice. He could still face away from him though, and he exercised whatever control he had. Lucifer would sigh in disappointment and wait for a while, before he got bored and left.

Until right after the epic La Crosse debacle. When Lucifer showed this time, he heard fingers snap and felt sudden pressure around his boots. Ice had grown to encapsulate his feet up to his ankles. He couldn't even bend down to scratch at the ice. He was well and truly fucked.

Lucifer sauntered into his field of view, coming to a stop in front of him. Suddenly grateful for the thick barrier separating him from the angel, he thought about what he could do to ignore him now. Lucifer started talking and he knew he had to blot out the voice. Listening to the fallen angel would be his undoing. He couldn't move his hands but he could still move his lips.

So he sang.

The first fitting song that came to mind was from a band Jess used to listen to. It stabbed a little dagger of pain through his heart, but he almost appreciated the reminder of his love and it focused him. The song was 'Broken Crown' by Mumford and Sons. He glared at Lucifer and sang it to the fallen angel, changing the lyrics to convey his challenge to Lucifer's hold over him.

"Touch my mouth and hold my tongue
I'll never be your chosen one
I'd rather be dead, safe and tucked away
Well, you can't tempt me if I don't see the day
The pull on my flesh was just too strong

(And it truly had been. He had let himself become addicted to demon blood, addicted to the power and control it gave him. Truth was, Famine barely had to touch his soul to make him break. He wavered on the edge all the time.)

It stifled the choice and the air in my lungs
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
'Cause when I open my body, I breathe a lie

(For all Lucifer's sweet promises, he knew that to accept the archangel would mean the end of himself and everything he ever loved.)

I will not speak of your sin
There was a way out for you

(Couldn't Lucifer just ask for forgiveness? Wasn't God supposed to be forgiving? And least in the New Testament He was. But Lucifer had been far too vain for bow down in the first place; eons in the cage were unlikely to soften his heart.)

The mirror shows not
Your values are all shot

(The angel had convinced himself of his righteousness. There was no reasoning with him.)

But oh, my heart was flawed
I knew my weakness

(And oh how well he knew it! Every mistake he'd ever made, big and small, played on an endless loop in his head, the relentless waves of failure crashing on the eroding bluffs of his ego.)

So hold my hand
Consign me not to darkness

(The irony of ironies: Lucifer, the Light Bringer, would damn the world to darkness and destruction.)

So crawl on my belly till the sun goes down
I'll never wear your broken crown
I took the road and I fucked it all the way

(He thought he'd been on the virtuous path, but he had been deceived at every turn. Now he was alone, truly adrift, fighting a losing battle against one of God's first creations.)

Now in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace

(Yeah, Lucifer may be an angel and he may have grace, but his grace was the farthest thing from angelic. At times, he could feel the sinister energy embracing the shivering fragments of his soul, seeking a way in. Though the archangel would never admit it, he was growing desperate for his vessel to relinquish control.)

So crawl on my belly till the sun goes down
I'll never wear your broken crown
I can take the road and I can fuck it all the way

(He'd messed up everything else so far, why not also ruin the angels' plans for the Apocalypse?)

But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate

(And his last choice was to say 'no'.)

So I was telling my therapist about my story, which lead to me trying to explain the hurt/comfort genre. We were discussing why so many authors and readers like to hurt the characters we supposedly love and I didn't have a good answer for her. So mini study time! Why do you like reading hurt/comfort? Which part do you enjoy more? Is the hurt necessary for the comfort? What do you think it says about us as individiuals (!)? I'd love to go back to her next week with some answers!