"Staring out into the night,

trying to hide the pain."

- Home, Daughtry

oOo

Dean was suspicious.

It came from years of honing and refining, registering the tiniest of signals and interpreting them subconsciously until they formed a solid conclusion that was based in no firm evidence. It wasn't even his hunter instincts that caused it (although he was sure that they probably helped). No, this suspicion was formed completely from his role as big brother.

Sam was up to something.

There was one part of the older Winchester than was glad; it had been a dismal few days filled with the both of them wandering around the bunker, not really having a purpose or anything productive to do which was probably the cause of Dean's suspicion. He had watched his brother flinch, jump and hyperventilate at the smallest thing. Sam thought he was concealing it, but he'd forgotten just how attuned to him Dean really was. It pained him so he did what he could to help. He quickly realised that water seemed to be a particular trigger for Sam; every time a tap ran, the shower spurted or something dribbled, Sam's face would drain of colour. Dean didn't ask why but he could guess. Instead, he set to work in the showers, modifying the cubicle next to Sam's usual one, switching the showerhead and its mounting so that it was fully adjustable and flexible, unlike the static one next to it, so that Sam could bend it without getting it on his face. It seemed to bring a small amount of relief; Sam's showers were still ridiculously quick but at least he didn't come out with huge pupils, breathing like he'd run a marathon.

It became Dean's quest; spot the things that affected Sam and fix them.

The only thing he couldn't fix was Sam's mind. After the initial peaceful night following the detox, their nights had been fitful and broken. Sam's shrieks had rung throughout the whole bunker and he would wake in the middle of full blown panic attacks that took Dean hours to pull him down from. Dean would dutifully go to his own room at the start of the night, but each morning he would wake in Sam's room. It was all a charade; he knew he'd end up in there but he played his part for his brother.

All of that was expected though and not the cause of his suspicion. Strolling as nonchalantly as he could past Sam's room, Dean casually glanced in. The bedside lamps emitted a soft orange glow in the room, revealing Sam's slumbering form. He slept more now than he had since he was a kid; the sleep his did manage to get at night wasn't exactly restful and left him drained in the day. Dean sidled in, edging up to the bed. Sam was propped up against his pillows, head lolling to the side, hair flopping in his face. Their father's journal lay open on his chest, cradled under one hand. Dean frowned. Sam's other arm was stretched out, his iPad just out of reach of his fingertips. Leaning over carefully, Dean scooped it up and snuck back out of the room, heading to the library. He swiped at the screen, entering the pin code that Sam didn't know he knew. He looked up briefly and started, nearly dropping the tablet.

"Cas! For god's sake, will you shout when you're here?" he grumbled, shooting a half-hearted glare at the angel who was perched on the edge of the long table.

"I just arrived, Dean; I was about to" Cas replied, cocking his head to the side quizzically.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, sliding a hand down over his face. "I'm tired. But you do need to be louder…but not loud." Cas' confusion deepened. Dean sighed and sat down. "Just…be careful around Sam. He's not…coping so well."

"How is he?" the angel asked, taking a seat opposite the hunter.

"Crap. He jumps at everythin', he won't talk about it and I think he's up to somethin'" Dean answered, turning his attention back to the iPad that was in his hand. His mouth set into a hard line when he read the screen.

"What do you mean?"

Dean turned the tablet and passed it over the table to the angel. Castiel took it and scanned over the page. A picture of a young teen smiled up at him, her eyes bright and warm. LOCAL GIRL MISSING FROM FAMILY HOME glared up at him above her image.

"He's lookin' for a hunt." Cas looked over the iPad at Dean, his expression impassive but expectant. He waited; it didn't take long. "He's not ready!" Dean burst out, gesturing animatedly with one hand. "He wants to go hunt things when I can't even get him to sleep on his own. It's stupid."

"Maybe it's what he needs" Cas remarked, meeting Dean's scowl evenly.

"No. What he needs is quiet and time to heal. We can't deal with other people's crap yet."

"He's trying to do exactly what you and him always do."

"What do y'mean?" Dean asked, taking the iPad back.

"Rather than talking about your problems, you and Sam would rather go out and hunt monsters than address what's bothering you. You've always done the same thing. You make things needlessly complicated – a trait I have noticed that you humans tend to do" Cas explained, his tone entirely factual. Dean opened his mouth to reply and closed it again. The angel was right. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"Well, this time it's different. I'm not lettin' him go out and get himself killed because he thinks that's the right way to deal with this."

"What are you proposing?"

"Good question," Sam butted in, making the pair of them start as he entered the room. He frowned down at his iPad. "Dude, why have you got my iPad?"

Dean looked down guiltily, putting it on the table. He grinned sheepishly at his brother. "My laptop died and I couldn't find the charger. I…needed it."

"Dean, seriously. Stop using my iPad to enable your sick hentai fetish" Sam grumbled, pulling a face as he sat down. He gave Castiel a tired smile. "Hey, Cas."

"It's good to see you lucid, Sam" Cas replied, returning the smile.

"It feels good to be lucid. So what's the proposal?" Sam asked again, turning his attention back on Dean. Cas mirrored him.

"I got a text from Jody this mornin', asking how you are. She's been worried. I figured it'd be good for you – us –" Dean amended quickly, "to go visit. You know she'll turn up eventually if we don't."

"I don't know, Dean…" Sam hesitated, chewing his lip.

"We can take it easy; quiet roads. Make a trip of it. C'mon, Sammy; we need to get out of here sometime. What if she cooks for us again?" Dean urged, salivating at the memory. He watched his brother carefully, saw the war going on behind his eyes. "You just have to say the word when we're out Sam and we'll come straight back. Me and Cas'll be there the whole time, alright?"

Sam hated it. Hated that he needed that reassurance that Dean gave to him freely, without patronising him. All he saw in his brother's face was concern. He was right; they couldn't hide in the bunker forever. It wasn't who they were and Sam needed to remember who he was before everything that had happened. He took a deep breath.

"Okay. Let's do it."

oOo

US-81N, outskirts of Madison, Kansas

Rain pelted dismally against the Impala, streaking in rivulets up the sides and battering against the windshield. It had been the first real rain they'd seen for ages, soaking the whole world in a sombre grey. They'd set out that morning after another fitful night in the bunker. Sam sat in his place in the front, watching the road roll away in front of him quietly. Cas was relegated to the backseat where he too watched the world go by. Motorhead played softly through the speakers; Sam had thrown Metallica into the backseat without a word. Dean didn't question it. Most of the drive had consisted of him lightening the mood: he talked about anything and everything he could think of, desperate to try and ease Sam's anxiety. It was almost palpable; there were several false starts to their trip where Dean had thought Sam wouldn't even make it into the car back in the bunker. Yet, as when facing so many things, in the end Sam squared his shoulders, set his jaw and did it.

"So, it was really Mom?" Sam asked, breaking the silence. Dean had finally told him of the events following his confrontation with Amara and Chuck. The older Winchester smiled wistfully.

"Yeah, it was her. She was just like I remembered. Better even. I'd give anythin' for you to have had that moment too" he replied. Instead of spending months living in hell, he added silently, bile rising in his throat. He pushed it down; now was not the time. The last thing he wanted was to turn this into an enforced car therapy session.

"Who knows: maybe one day I will" Sam murmured, the corners of his lips curving up minutely at the thought. Someday he would catch a break; it was about time he was due one. He glanced over at his brother. "So tell me something good."

Dean chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. His face broke into a wide grin.

"So turns out that Cas actually thinks the pizza guy has a double life…"

"Dean!" Cas grumbled in the back. Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror.

"The story has to be told, Cas. For posterity," he laughed. "So the last time the pizza guy came…"

Sam shifted back, letting the warm comfort of his brother's amusement wash over him, calming his jangling nerves. He was safe. In that moment, he knew it.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

The sleek BMW X5 rumbled to a standstill on the dirt track, the tires wet and crunching over the soaked stones beneath it. Thomas cut the engine and slid from the driver's side, grabbing an umbrella from the backseat before running around to the passenger door. He held the huge umbrella up high, above the car door, shielding Anna as he helped her slide from the SUV.

"Honestly, Thomas, I don't understand why these people insist on such monstrous cars. I asked for a suitably sized car and they gave us an elephant. It's quite ridiculous" she huffed, her thin mouth pressed into a firm line.

"They do bring a whole new meaning to the term 'excessive'," he concurred, keeping the umbrella poised over Anna, letting the pelting rain drive against his black overcoat. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to stay in the car?"

"Nonsense; it's perfectly safe. We watched them leave hours ago" she chided, strolling with a brisk purposefulness towards the cast iron door. A single rain drop evaded the umbrella, landing on her dyed auburn hair. She patted it away with one hand as she reached into her handbag with the other, producing a large ornate key: the twin of the Winchester's. They had been lucky enough to grab Toni's key from the house before they had left England. Passing it to Thomas, she stood to one side as he inserted it in the lock, twisting it. The lock popped with ease. Entering the bunker without it would have been impossible.

The door squealed as Thomas dragged it open, holding it so that Anna could step inside first. The lights flickered to life immediately as they entered and stood on the balcony, looking down over the lower levels. Everything was silent.

"You're sure no one else will be here?" Anna asked softly, keeping her voice low.

"Miss Toni's records never mentioned anyone other than the Winchesters and their pet angel. However, I would suggest we proceed with caution" Thomas answered, lowering the umbrella and leaving it propped up next to the door. He shook the rain drops from his coat before pulling a pistol from his pocket. Leading the way, he descended the stairs, eyes scanning the control room below.

It was time to find out what made the Winchesters tick.

oOo

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Jody met them at the door, a wide grin spread on her open features. If Jody felt it, she showed it. It was part of what Sam loved so much about her. In a world of secrets, betrayals and half-truths, he always knew where he stood with Sioux Falls' sheriff.

"Sam! Thank god! C'mere" she cried, arms open wide as she reached up to hug him, the same as she always did. He couldn't suppress the flinch, even though he knew to expect her touch. It's normal. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, played over and over in his mind as he returned the gesture as best as he could. For how long was physical contact going to make his heart thump and his panic rise? He had nothing to fear from Jody and he knew it. But knowing it and telling his subconscious that were two very different things.

She let go, scrutinising his face carefully. It was such a soft, motherly look that it squeezed his heart. Finishing her inspection, Jody said nothing, clearly deciding that her evaluation was best left until later. Dean and Castiel were next in her line of fiercely protective hugs and general exclamations of welcome.

"Claire and Alex have gone to the cabin for the night; they've taken a bit of a shine to it. I figured you could do without snarky teenagers around" she explained as she led them into the house.

"You didn't need to send them away" Sam murmured, guilt lacing his tone as she ushered them into the sitting room.

"Honestly? I'm enjoying the fact that they're gettin' along enough that they wanna go away together. It gives me a moment of peace too" she replied, a warm smile lighting her face. "I'm looking forward to some adult conversation."

"Well we can't promise that" Dean grinned, plonking his bag by the door. He sniffed the air questioningly. He snuck past Jody, heading for the kitchen. She clocked his movements, taking off after him.

"Dean Winchester, if you touch those mashed potatoes, I will cut your damned hand off this time!"

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

The bunker was empty. Good.

Thomas didn't know how long they would be gone for, but the tracker he'd managed to secure to the Impala the night before meant that he would have clear warning of the Winchester's return. As it was, the car was over 300 miles away in Sioux Falls. According to Toni's files, that neanderthal never went anywhere without his precious Impala. Thomas had made a mental note of it, filing it away for later. That kind of knowledge was never too invaluable.

Wandering through the bunker's living quarters had been eye opening. Considering the boys had been living there for three or four years, there were few personal possessions. It was as if they were expecting to up and move again at a moment's notice. Well, Sam did, at least. After skulking down the corridors, they had discovered the two occupied bedrooms. Thomas had entered the first, wrinkling his nose in disdain. The bed sat in the centre of the room beneath a shelf that had weapons and crosses strewn haphazardly across its surface in some bizarre attempt at personalisation. A huge pair of headphones sat on the bedside table and a bundle of clothes had been thrown across the desk chair.

Dean's room. Of course it was.

Thomas' lip curled in disgust. He was nothing more than a brutish thug; he couldn't even keep his personal effects in order. Dean Winchester deserved everything that was coming to him. And, after all he'd done, he was going to get his due.

Moving onto the next room, he recognised it as Sam's instantly – he would have identified it even if he hadn't spotted Dean's first. There was a quiet calm, an order to it, despite the mess. Though it was almost devoid of personal possessions, Thomas could see Sam in this space. There was a sombreness to the whole atmosphere. A gentle dignity. During their time together, Thomas had always quietly admired his charge's silent ingenuity. Even though he was never destined to be a true Man of Letters, he would have been phenomenal. Of that, Thomas had no doubt.

"How can anyone stand to live in such conditions?" Anna remarked, glaring at the disarray inside the room.

"You can't blame him, Anna; Sam has had a lot to go through. I'm sure adjusting hasn't been easy for him" he replied, his tone soft, sympathetic.

"If he'd been a man of his word, we wouldn't even be here. I have every right to blame him" she snorted haughtily. She watched as Thomas moved into the room, making a beeline for the desk. He ran his fingers along the top of the polished surface.

"No, Anna; Sam isn't at fault. He's misguided," he explained as he thumbed through the stack of books on the desk. He grasped one of the desk drawers, sliding it open smoothly, smiling at a battered book that sat nestled inside. Pulling it out, slowly, almost reverently, he flicked it open.

Sam's journal.

He knew he'd find one; Sam was not the type of man who wouldn't keep a record. A photograph slipped out of the first page. Turning it over, Thomas stared down at a younger version of the Winchesters: Dean grinning widely as he looked at Sam who had his head thrown back in laughter.

"Misguided? His refusal caused Lady Toni's death!" Anna spat. Thomas looked up, surprised. Anna was not the kind of woman who was prone to sudden outbursts of emotion. He pocketed the photo and crossed the room quickly, placing a comforting hand on her arm as he looked down into her eyes.

"It wasn't Sam. He was ready; I know he was. If his damned brother hadn't shown up, Miss Toni's plan would have worked. We wouldn't have had to have moved and Sam would never have had doubts. Dean caused it all. It's he who has to pay. And believe me, he will."

oOo

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Quiet had descended on Jody's house, the bustle of dinner finally over and all of the occupants were suitably satiated (with all limbs still intact in Dean's case). The soft clattering of dishes and cutlery being washed drifted through from the kitchen where Dean and Castiel were cleaning up, leaving Jody and Sam in the living room. The incessant rain continued to batter against the windows but inside it was warm, comforting. Sam swirled his glass of red wine slowly while Jody peered over the top of hers at him. The wine he'd consumed had relaxed him, draining away the tension in his muscles for the first time in days. He'd only had two glasses which would never have bothered him before, but he hadn't had anything alcoholic in…he couldn't remember when. It made him dozy, a warm blanket wrapping around him in the relative safety of Jody's home.

"So how you really holdin' up, Sam?" Jody coaxed, her voice warm and inviting. She was everything Toni hadn't been, Sam mused silently.

"I keep…I keep waiting to feel like me again. I don't. I feel like a stranger in my own head. It's odd. I've been through shit like this before, but somehow…"

"It was different this time?"

"Yeah. I dunno. Maybe it was because they were human. The supernatural, I get – I can deal with; I've done it long enough. But I just…couldn't. Not with them. I was ready to give it all up, Jody. Honest to god, I was. The things they did…the way they made me feel…" Sam swallowed. He couldn't. This was his burden.

"Have you talked to Dean about any of this?" she asked quietly, her heart aching when she saw the battle he was waging within himself. She'd seen her boys in a lot of ways: bloodied, broken, happy, guilty, grieving…but she couldn't bear to see the look in Sam's eyes now. If Toni hadn't been dead already, Jody would have wrung her neck herself.

"No. I can't, not yet. He blames himself – for all of this. It's stupid. He went off to save everything! How was he to know that some crazy English bitch was gonna be at the bunker?" he mumbled, downing a large mouthful of wine.

"There was no way you could've known either," she replied. Sam looked away. "You were grieving for a brother you thought you'd lost and you'd got to the one place you thought was safe – and you had Cas with you. It's okay to let your guard down. But if I know one thing about you, Sam," she caught his eye again, her expression serious but encouraging, "it's that you don't give up. You may have felt like you were at the end but I'd stake my life on the fact that you would have fought tooth and nail up to that point. I can't even begin to imagine what they did to you, but I also know that you probably went through more than most people could even begin to comprehend, let alone survive." She put her wine glass down and got up, settling herself on the arm of his chair. Pulling him gently to her, she ignored his involuntary flinch, cradling his head against her torso as she stroked his hair softly. Bending down, she kissed the top of his head.

"I'm proud of you, Sam Winchester. Don't you forget that" she whispered fiercely against the top of his head as he relaxed into her embrace, his tears dampening her shirt.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

Oh, he had hit the jackpot with Sam's journal. He knew Sam would be detailed and thorough, but he had no idea how much so. Obviously, there was a large gap missing from when he'd been a resident with Miss Toni, but it would seem he'd started writing again two days ago. And what a tale it told.

Poor boy. He'd suffered so much since being taken. The demon detox, the nightmares…not knowing what was real. It was all here. His idiotic brother had been attempting to help but was essentially useless. Thomas wasn't surprised. Dean didn't know how to look after his brother – that much was clear.

"You look like the cat that managed to get into the whole vat of cream without getting caught" Anna remarked as she reappeared, a bundle of sheets in her arms. Disgusted by the state of Sam's room, she had set to work straightening it, muttering about 'clean space, clean mindset'. At first, Thomas had thought to stop her, but the more he read, the more he approved. Sam needed a clear mind before they relocated him. He smiled up at her.

"We're going to have a slight change of plans. Nothing too drastic, but it will serve our purpose better than we ever expected" he explained as he pulled a pen from the desk tidy. Taking a page from the back of the journal, he held the book open, copying a few notes – key sections – whilst trying to match his handwriting to Sam's as best he could. Satisfied, he folded the page, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Concentrating, he began to write in the journal, keeping his script soft and clear. Anna peered over his shoulder as she tucked a pillow into a new case.

"Oh Thomas, you are devious" she smiled approvingly. Satisfied, she plumped the pillow with extra vigour. He finished what he'd added, putting the pen back in the pot, his knuckles brushing against another journal. He put Sam's back in the drawer before picking up the other one, inspecting it closely. The cover was a soft tan leather, darkening with age and use, held closed by a buckle on the side. Popping it open, he scanned over the handwritten pages, drawing his fingertips lightly over an ornate brass medal and the inscription 'HW' on the inside cover.

"I'll be damned" he murmured. He flicked through a few pages, eyes bright. Closing it, he slid the clasp back in. He'd known coming into the bunker was going to be fruitful but he hadn't realised how much so. He rose from the chair, tucking John Winchester's journal under his arm. He looked around thoughtfully. The bundle of clothes had been cleared away and the bedsheets were clean and crisp on the bed. It looked so much better already. He would never have let Sam's environment fall into such disarray when he was caring for him. Yet again, it showed how inept Dean truly was, adding yet more fuel to the loathing that burned inside him.

Thomas wandered over to the wardrobe, opening it and trailing his fingers along the shirts that hung there. He frowned at the frayed edges of some of the garments. Hunting wasn't a lucrative business, but still, there was no reason why Sam needed to go without all the time. At least he'd been properly looked after in Thomas' care. Clothed, housed and fed. It was yet another of Dean's failures.

"What are you looking for, Thomas?" Anna asked when she saw him gazing around.

"I want something that we can use which will provide Sam with some comfort. He's bound to be distressed in the first few days – it's only natural – but it can't be anything he'll miss or could use once he's with us."

Anna finished straightening the bed cover, her eyes thoughtful. She held up a finger.

"I think I've got just the thing!" she chirped briskly, disappearing from the room. Curious, Thomas followed her out, giving Sam's room one last once over, clasping John's journal to his chest. At least it would be more comfortable now that it was ordered; just the way he knew Sam would have it.

He found her in Dean's room, rummaging through the bottles on a shelf. She held aloft a small bottle, giving it a quick sniff. Holding it out to Thomas, he breathed deeply. His nose wrinkled in revulsion.

"I doubt he'll even notice it's missing. Disgusting beast that he is, he probably only wears it when he's off to plough the local harlots. I'd imagine it's a smell Sam would associate with his brother though" she explained as she slipped it into her handbag.

"Anna, have I ever told you you're a genius?" Thomas smiled. She swatted playfully at his arm, motioning towards the door.

"Enough of that. Flattery never worked with me Mr Maguire and you know that full well," she chided, but there was a hint of a smile. "Come on, I think we've spent enough time in this squalor; let's go and see about those changes you want made."

oOo

The rain was all he had heard for what felt like hours. It smashed against the sides of the car, a distinct sloshing sound reverberating around him from the tyres gliding across a waterlogged road. He couldn't remember getting here. He'd woken up in the back of the car; his last waking memory was of James and Toni digging the bullet from his leg without anaesthetic. It still ached now, sending fire through his nerves whenever he wiggled around. The sloshing sound slowed and the dark world around him slowed to a stop.

Car doors thudded.

Sam heard voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. He shifted uncomfortably, sick of the ache in his shoulders. Boots crunched over gravel and he quickly closed his eyes, letting his whole body go limb. He breathed deeply through his nose.

In. Out. In. Out.

The rain got louder as the tailgate was raised on the car, a cold wind swirling in and around him. He kept still, relaxed. Fought the urge to jump when two fingers pressed against his throat.

"Too fast to be asleep. You're not fooling anyone" James remarked, twining his hand in Sam's hair and wrenching his head up. Sam growled at the unwanted contact, eyes flying open and glaring maliciously up at James. The thug sneered down at him, letting go and twisting him around. He grabbed Sam's bound ankles, dragging him towards the tailgate. Sam struggled, trying to kick out with his legs but James' grip didn't slacken. "Pack it in!" he snarled, flicking open a blade. He sawed through the ropes around Sam's ankles and knees, moving to the side and out of Sam's kicking range. He hauled the Winchester upright by the arm, his grip so tight that Sam knew it would leave bruises.

Sam glared at Toni who was stood a few metres away, talking quietly to a man Sam didn't recognise. He wore a grey suit, his dark hair glistening with a few raindrops as he held an umbrella over Toni's head. His mouth was set in a serious line beneath the neatly trimmed beard that peppered his cheeks. Her eyes met Sam's head on, her mouth curved into a cold half smile.

James yanked him to his feet, holding him steady when he swayed. Sam leaned into him heavily, feigning his unsteadiness, forcing him to readjust his grip. He slammed his head down, catching James on the temple with a rancorous headbutt and a swift kick with one foot, knocking the Man of Letters to the ground.

Without missing a beat, Sam ran, his feet pounding against the wet driveway, splashing through puddles as the rain pelted against his face, stinging his eyes. His thigh burned but adrenaline pushed him on; he had one chance and he knew it.

He had to get to the road.

Someone bulldozed straight into him from behind, sending them both crashing to the ground. He writhed frantically against the weight on his back, his bellows of frustration muffled by the gag that was still in his mouth. He twisted his head, seeing the man he didn't recognise straddling him, one hand gripping Sam's bound hands, the other on his shoulder, pinning him down. Sam panted heavily, exhausted, but still he bucked and fought, harder still when he saw James approaching, his rage clear and frightening.

He stopped just behind the other man, crouching down and disappearing from view. White hot agony sparked through Sam as he felt James jab into his bullet wound with his thumb, ripping open the sutures, drawing a muted howl of agony from the Winchester who writhed on the soaking floor, trying to pull his leg away from the excruciating intrusion.

"Get him up" James snarled. The other man got off his back, the pair of them yanking him upright. Satisfaction filled Sam when he saw the dribble of blood mixing with the rain on James' face. Good. They marched him back towards the house, holding an arm each, ignoring his now pronounced limp. They stopped in front of Toni who grabbed his jaw roughly. He tried jerking his head away but her grip was tight, fingers digging into the cloth that covered the lower half of his face.

"That was your last escape attempt, Sam. I hope it was worth it" she hissed, backhanding him viciously when she let go, snapping his head to the side. She turned and led the way up the porch steps, an auburn-haired woman holding the door open for her as she entered. Sam wrestled with his two captors, fighting them every step of the way, dragging his feet and trying to yank free of their grips constantly. Yet nothing worked. They held on with vicelike grips, hauling him into the house. His panic rose as the door shut, muffling the sound of the rain. His cries and shouts were incoherent and ignored, their wet shoes squeaking across the wooden flooring. Toni stopped at a door, opening it and descending into the darkness below. Sam's heart hammered; if he went down there, he'd never come back out. He kicked up with both legs, planting them on either side of the doorframe and propelled the three of them backwards. James and the other man stumbled but didn't fall.

"Grab his legs" the other man instructed, adjusting his hold so that he was holding both of Sam's arms. James moved down his body, his arm snaking around both of Sam's legs, lifting and clamping them to his side. Sam groaned, writhing desperately between the two men as they carried him down the stairs. His eyes adjusted to the gloom below, a whimper escaping his throat when he saw Toni stood next to another open door, this time leading into a bright white room. The two men carried him across, stopping just inside the doorway so that James could drop Sam's legs. The other man pushed him forwards, sending him stumbling inside as James slipped out, slamming the door shut behind him. Sam ran at the door, flinging himself into it with a loud bang.

It didn't budge.

Panic filled him, sending his pulse skyrocketing as the full weight of his predicament began to sink in. He was thousands of miles from home, alone, bound, gagged and locked in some crazy woman's basement without anyone having any idea where he was. His foot slammed against the door again, the bang reverberating around the room.

He kicked again.

And again.

And again.

oOo

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

The next peal of thunder crashed through the room, jolting Sam into the waking world and out of the nightmare. Not a nightmare: a memory. Lightning flashed, sending him scrambling up the bed, kicking out when the sheets tangled around his legs, restricting him, stopping him. He had to get out. Couldn't stay.

"Sammy?"

He heard his name, saw Dean in the chair, his eyes bleary, confused, but none of it registered. The thunder smashed through the room. He clambered out of the bedroom, almost falling when the sheet snagged his foot. Rain pelted against the windows, lightning flaring through the room again. How did he get out? Where the hell was he?

Not home.

Sam raced through the open door, feet thumping down the hall, ignoring the shouts behind him, other voices adding to it. Oh god, where was he meant to go? He couldn't stay – he couldn't breathe. Not here. Too closed. Too small.

He had to get out. He needed Dean. Dean was dead.

He ran.

The front door loomed and he yanked it open, eyes wide and fearful when the thunder rolled overhead. His legs propelled him out into the storm, into the rain. His bare feet slapped against the puddles.

"Sam, stop!" a voice shouted. He wanted to – he did. He couldn't. A hand grabbed his arm. Without thinking, he swung, his fist connecting with his assailant's face. The grip on his arm didn't let go though. It pushed him back until he collided with something cold, metallic. His panicked glance slid to the side, registering the Impala. "Sam! Look at me, c'mon, man; you're scaring the shit outta me here!" Two hands held either side of his face. He grappled with them to start with but his eyes centred on the face in front of him. Saw the rain flattening and darkening Dean's hair, droplets running down his face, mixing with the blood that ran from his nose. Sam's hands grasped his brother's, clinging on. "That's good, c'mon, breathe with me, Sammy. You can do it. That's it" Dean reassured him, keeping his eyes locked on him, his voice calming. Sam felt his lungs inflate, drawing in a deep breath. Dean wasn't dead; he was here. Misery filled the Winchester; how much longer would he be confusing the real world with memory? With his imagination?

"I can't do this, Dean" Sam whispered, despair in his eyes. Dean smiled at him, but his eyes remained hard, fiercely protective.

"Yeah, you can. We can. It's alright. Nothin' bad will happen to you. Not while I'm around."

oOo

So I wrote all the Jody stuff before seeing Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox; loved so many scenes in it! Any similarity was purely coincidence (including the hentai aka Japanese animated erotica comment!).

Please review!