"If you want to get out alive, run for your life."

- Get Out Alive, Three Days Grace

oOo

Anna watched him as Sam raced away, her frown creasing into her forehead. Looking down, she scanned over the piece of paper Thomas had given her. The flicker of the firelight scorched across the page before she folded it and put it in her jacket pocket. Picking up a small vial of a deep purple liquid, she slowly began to pour it over the mess of crackling leaves and twigs that sat in the ornate bowl over the open flame.

"Et ignis consumet," she intoned, watching the mess of foliage catch alight, burning a vibrant green, flames shooting up momentarily before dying down. Perhaps there was more to the Men of Letters' mumbo jumbo that she had anticipated. She hoped it did whatever Thomas was expecting it to. She hadn't envisaged needing to do it at all; Thomas had instructed her that afternoon to wait outside with it, around the back of the house, and only finish the spell if she saw Sam leave without him.

Hurrying around to the back door, she let herself in to go and find Thomas, concern rising within her.

oOo

His lungs were on fire, but Sam didn't stop. The ground disappeared beneath his feet as they devoured the distance, taking him away from the house. Ahead, the trees loomed, tall and protective. To his right, Sam could see the open expanse of fields but the darkness was setting in too quickly, cloaking the horizon. The view to his left was the same, but the driveway led that way; that was where the road was going to be. Entering the small copse, Sam dodged a thin branch that nearly caught his cheek, stumbling over the roots as he dove forwards. The wind rustled the leaves around him, twigs cracking beneath his feet. Looking up, he veered to the left, grabbing a low branch and swinging himself up. The Winchester climbed with ease up into the tree, settling himself on a wide branch a good fifteen feet off the ground.

He stopped, letting himself breathe.

Running a hand back through his damp hair, Sam forced his breathing to even out and slow, sucking in air through his nose and exhaling through his mouth as he calmed the adrenaline sparking through his veins. Straining his ears, he listened for sounds of pursuit. There was nothing except the rustling around him. From his position, Sam couldn't see the house – at least that meant they couldn't see him either. Not that he could stay here long; when Thomas woke, this copse would be the first place he'd look. Sam had been predictable, but he hadn't had the time, information or resources to be anything else.

Regaining his breath, Sam felt his heart begin to slow, letting him think clearly. Again, predictable though it was, he had to make for the road. There would be hundreds of miles of farmland out here and he could walk for days without seeing another soul. If he found the road, he could make for a town or try to grab a lift. Hell, if he could flag down a car, he could borrow their phone, get through to Dean. Hear his voice. God, he wanted to hear Dean's voice.

Sam.

The hunter's head whipped around, wet hair plastering to his cheek, as he looked for the source of the voice. There was no one there. He shook his head, scowling. Wishful thinking playing tricks on him. Hadn't he suffered enough?

Clenching his jaw, Sam swung down out of the tree, moving with a quiet grace. He landed softly, stopping, listening. Still nothing. Turning on his heel, he jogged through the dim copse, having to take extra care as the light failed.

Where are you going?

The voice echoed again and Sam skidded to a halt, glancing around him. What the hell was going on? He was absolutely sure he was alone. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he moved again, dodging around trees.

oOo

"This is completely unacceptable," Anna hissed, her eyes flashing fire as she gently washed the blood from Thomas' face.

"Anna, it's alright. I expected him to lash out," Thomas replied, his voice thin and rasping. He winced as the warm water met the cut across the bridge of his nose.

"You never said a broken nose was a part of the plan," she grumbled as she worked. She'd found him at the top of the stairs covered in his own blood. He'd wanted to go straight after Sam, but she'd assured him that she'd done as he asked. They needed time for it to work anyway so sparing a few minutes to clean him up wasn't going to hurt. So he let her mother him, knowing that he would catch up to Sam soon.

oOo

Sam cried out, falling into a tree when light slammed through his mind. He grasped the sides of his head, gasping as images clouded his vision. Images of a world burning. Cities on fires, the flames raging up towards the darkening sky. People screamed and monsters roared, the noise deafening.

As soon as they had appeared, they went.

The dark copse came back into view, Sam's eyes wide and horrified. His breath was ragged, raking up his throat in short spurts. He blinked several times, brushing a shaking hand across his face. Now was not the time to be losing it! Not when he was so close to getting away. Pushing away from the tree with one hand, Sam stumbled on, making it out of the clearing.

Darkness had set in completely now, the shapes of the world lit with silver edges from the rising moon. Sam looked around, trying to get his bearings. Over to his left, he could see the faint glimmer of lights: it had to be the farmhouse. With that behind him, he should press forwards. Keeping a steady pace, he jogged on, aware that the ground beneath his feet was uneven. The last thing he needed was a twisted ankle when Thomas was probably on the move already.

A woman's face, terrified, horror filling her eyes as she stared pleadingly up at him, swamped his vision, driving the hunter to his knees.

"Please don't. Please," she whimpered, her hands scrabbling against the ones that were wrapped around her neck. Sam bent over into a ball, hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut as he rode through the vision. He watched the hands tighten, her screams choking in her throat as the light died in her eyes.

Shaking his head violently, her face vanished. Getting to his feet, he ran again, the desperation within him rising. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. He'd never seen that woman before, let alone strangled her!

He pushed forward, making his legs work. He had to get to the road. Had to get to Dean.

oOo

Thomas pulled the polo-neck sweater on over his shirt, carefully avoiding his face. It had been a long time since anyone had clocked him in the nose; he'd forgotten how painful it was. He'd expected the punch, but not the chain wrapped around Sam's knuckles. The lad was resourceful, he'd give him that. He'd known that anyway and a small part of him was pleased.

Looking in the mirror, he pulled down the sweater's neck, revealing the ugly purplish bruises that already crisscrossed over his skin. It hurt, physically, but he couldn't blame Sam. It was fear and uncertainty that made him lash out – not Sam himself. Never Sam. His Sam would never actually try to kill him. He knew, deep down, just how much Thomas cared for him.

Thomas had counted on that very idea and his faith had been rewarded.

He left his bedroom and made his way downstairs, heading into the dining room. He frowned at the shattered window, Anna on the outside sweeping up the broken glass. He would need to get that fixed in the morning. He'd expected Sam to pick the locks, but it would seem brute force had won that argument.

Walking over to the desk in the corner, he unlocked the drawers, pulling out his laptop and switching it on. It booted almost instantaneously and he clicked on one of the icons on the desktop. Wandering over to the destroyed window, he looked out.

"I'll call the repair company in the morning once Sam is safe again," he remarked, typing in his password. Anna nodded and looked up at him, her mouth downturned.

"How are you going to find him? He must be long gone by now."

Thomas smiled and turned the screen to face her. A bird's eye map of the surrounding area had taken over the whole screen, a small yellow dot moving towards the nearest road, heading east.

"I drilled a hole into the bottom of Sam's boot and put a tracker inside while he slept. It tracks him to within a five feet radius."

"As clever as always," Anna smiled, sweeping up the remaining shards. "Go on then. I know it's getting late, but the last thing you really want is for him to come across some kind soul on the road who'll give him a lift or let him use their phone."

oOo

Sam dropped to the ground, hunkering down behind a short fence post, making himself as small as possible. The car sped past him, making his heart thump. He didn't dare sneak a look to see if it was Thomas or not; he was too close to the house still to risk jumping out at unknown cars. Knowing his luck, he'd flag one down just for it to be his captor. Either that or that was the only car he was going to see for the rest of the night. He hated ifs and maybes. Yet, there wasn't any point dwelling on it; he needed to move forwards.

Hauling himself up, Sam climbed the wooden fence, nearly toppling over the other side when another round of images pierced inside his head. He caught himself at the last second, fighting to push the images out as he stepped onto the hard asphalt.

oOo

Thomas glanced at the open laptop in the passenger seat beside him, watching the small yellow dot disappear behind him. Sam had made it onto the road and was following him – just as he'd predicted. To head west would mean going past the driveway up to the farm: Sam was smarter than that. His eyes swept over the dash's clock before staring out at the empty stretch of road. 8.04pm. It wasn't a particularly busy stretch of road; he'd spent a few evenings down near the farm's entrance counting the number of vehicles that went past. It was useful information to know.

He would go on for a few more miles: let Sam wear himself out with the hike and the visions which were likely to be wreaking havoc with him by now. Thomas wasn't too worried about cars travelling in the same direction as him; Sam wasn't likely to trust them, thinking they'd be Thomas. His instinct would be to hide. Instead, he'd be more inclined to try and flag down one going the other way.

Thomas would make sure that didn't happen.

oOo

Despite the chill that hung in the air, Sam was sweating profusely. He trudged along the broad stretch of asphalt, his arms wrapped around his torso, holding himself together as he warded off the sights and sounds that rose up unbidden and unwanted in his mind. Most he seemed to be able to stifle enough to keep walking, others seared through with such burning intensity that they crippled him, plunging him to his knees.

They were all of a similar vein: the world was burning.

The hunter didn't recognise any of it though – not the people and not the places. He didn't know how that was even possible. Figuring it out wasn't the priority; getting to safety was. Dean would fix it. His big brother always fixed it. He just needed to get to Dean.

Sam hadn't seen another car since the one he'd hidden from earlier but that wasn't really surprising; he was in the middle of farming country. Traffic wasn't always a given. Hell, he and Dean had driven down numerous roads without seeing another vehicle for miles. He'd already decided to hide from any that came up behind him, just in case. Without a watch or much else to go on, the hunter had no idea how long he'd actually been walking for. His progress was slower than he'd like with the headaches hounding him, but he'd been going for a while – probably nearly an hour and a half, maybe a bit over. The farmhouse should be a good four or five miles behind him by now. Maybe Thomas was still unconscious, maybe he'd gone the other way. While he couldn't be sure, the thought was a comforting one.

Something caught his eye up ahead.

His fight or flight reflex kicked in, adrenaline surging even though his steps slowed. He squinted in the dark. There was a faint light – sat off to the right, away from the road by a few feet. It wasn't bright enough – or high enough – to be a house. What was it? He kept his pace measured, sticking to the edge of the road where he could bolt into the fields on his left if he needed to.

Another round of images battered the inside of his head, forcing him to stop and curl in on himself, clutching at his head.

"Not now, not now," he winced, mumbling over and over to himself, screwing his eyes shut. The pile of burning bodies faded from view slowly, painfully. Exhausted, Sam straightened up, stumbling onwards.

Getting closer, he began to pick out the details in the dark. Two dim lights shone bleakly, static, point forwards, illuminating a small patch of green. They were rectangular and stood around chest height. Finally, it clicked.

It was a car.

Sam kept his feet cautious as he advanced, ears straining for any signs of life or noise. He couldn't hear anything but a soft clicking sound the closer he got to the car. In the dark, the outside became more apparent and Sam started to jog. The vehicle had flipped over; it was resting on its roof. Something had run it off the road. Alarm bells went off in his head, but he ignored them. Sam waited until he was close enough to see that it wasn't a BMW before sprinting over. He slid to a stop by the driver's door, arm on the car's frame as he bent down to look in the window.

"Hey! Dude, you okay?" he asked, seeing the outline of a person but it was too dark. Grabbing the door handle, Sam yanked, hard, the door screeching under the force as it opened. The interior light flickered on, revealing carnage. The airbags had blown, the white material now deflated and sagging down towards the roof of the car. Fragments of glass were strewn around from the shattered windshield. A man hung upside down from his seat, eyes closed, blood dripping from several lacerations crisscrossing his face. Sam knelt down next to him. "Can you hear me?" he called, pressing his fingers against the man's neck.

Nothing.

"Goddammit." Sam hissed, his shoulders sagging. He looked over his shoulder at the road, wondering what would've caused the guy to swerve that hard. It wasn't uncommon for deer to be in farmland areas; one on the road would've been enough to scare him into jerking the wheel. Particularly if he was distracted on his phone…

His phone!

Sam's heart nearly leapt into his mouth as his head shot back around. He looked at the centre console; it was hi-tech enough to have a Bluetooth system so he probably didn't even need to get his phone out. Stifling the desire to apologise, Sam reached in, searching the man's pockets.

And hit the jackpot.

He pulled out the guy's phone, his hands shaking. Pressing the centre button lit it up in the darkness but it was locked. Looking at the man's hands, Sam grasped his right gently and pressed his thumb to the button, unlocking it. His heart beat hard.

He punched in Dean's number with trembling thumbs and hit call, lifting the phone to his ear, praying with everything he had that Dean picked up.

It rang.

"What?" Dean's harsh tone snapped down the line. Sam near sobbed with relief.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

"Dean?"

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck shot straight up as he bolted upright, back ramrod straight, eyes wide, mouth open.

"Sammy?!" he asked, incredulously. Jody and Cas' heads both snapped up and both were around the table in an instant. Dean heard his brother's sob and it broke his heart, his own eyes welling. "Are you okay?!"

"Yeah – no – I don't know," Sam's reply was broken and tinny down the line. "I'm not hurt but my head…"

"It's okay, Sammy, listen to me," Dean interrupted, his tone soothing but serious. He motioned at Jody to grab him a pen. "I need you to tell me where you are."

"I don't know. I found this car on the side of a road – the guy's dead but I've got his phone. I don't know what happened. It's not safe, Dean; I don't know how close Thomas is. He was with me in England. He worked with Toni."

"It's alright, Sam, take it easy. We know about Thomas – we've got the Brits comin' to help. But I need you to focus and help me find you. What's the guy's licence plate?" Dean calmed him as he held the pen poised. He listened as Sam moved, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"116-PHG, Kansas – AL. Allen County?"

"That's great, Sam. What can you see?" Dean prompted gently, scribbling down the plate information. He fought his own panic and desperation, keeping it together for his brother. Sam needed him.

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

He crept forward, light as air on his toes, using the light from the overturned car to guide him. He'd been forced to stow the BMW further down the road and jog back, surprised to see Sam already at the crash site. The man was a regrettable casualty; he'd only meant to force him off the road, not get him to flip over completely. If he was alive, Thomas would call for help anonymously later – after Sam was safe.

He prowled forward, stalking closer, watching Sam intently as the hunter moved around the car. Thomas bit back his annoyance – he was on the phone! To who was predictable.

Dean.

Thomas' fist clenched around the cloth in his hand. Sam's voice floated through the air, panicked and rushed but his back remained to Thomas.

"Farmland. I can't see anything – no lights in the distance, nothing. I was on a farm – in a storm cellar. Shit, Dean, they branded me," he choked out, falling to his knees.

Perfect.

Thomas drew closer, raising his hand, getting ready. He slowed his feet, measuring each step, gauging Sam's movements, calculating constantly. It had to be timed just right. Sam knelt there, listening to Dean as Thomas began to loom over him, casting a protective shadow in the moonlight.

"It's some kind of Enochian sigil. It blocks angels which is why –"

Thomas had him.

He hooked the damp cloth around Sam's mouth and nose, cutting him off, slipping his other arm around Sam's torso, holding him tight, pulling him back into his embrace. The phone fell from his hand as he thrashed, trying to reach Thomas' hand and pull it from his face but he couldn't get close enough. Dean's frantic shouts echoed up through the darkness, lost beneath the stifled shouts and moans from Sam as he jerked his head, but Thomas just pulled him closer, cradling him against his chest.

"Shhhh, it's alright, Sam. I've got you. There's nothing to worry about," Thomas crooned, tightening his hold as the hunter bucked and writhed. His struggling began to lessen, body loosening slowly as the choloform took hold. Thomas rested his chin on the top of Sam's head as he kept the cloth in place for a few moments more, making sure that he was completely out of it. Sam slouched back against him, his breathing deep and even. Thomas took the cloth away, sticking it back in his pocket. He shifted position, kneeling down and picking up the discarded phone, Dean's shouts still screaming through the speaker. He cradled Sam back against his chest, the hunter's head lolling onto his shoulder, Thomas' cheek resting against his forehead as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Dean, honestly, do you always make such a racket?" he huffed, annoyed. His voice was raspy and strained. The shouting turned to silence as he caught Dean off-guard.

"Thomas." Dean snarled. The Englishman blinked, surprised.

"You've been doing your homework. Good for you."

"Listen to me, you piece of shit, you let Sam go now and maybe I'll let you die quickly. I don't care what you want. Either you let my brother go or I'm gonna get real creative when I find you," Dean growled. Thomas smiled, eyes glinting in the dark as he gazed down at his ward.

"You poor misguided soul, Dean. Of course I'm not going to let him go. I'm what Sam needs now. I'm the one who will guide him. He's mine and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it," Thomas replied, his croaky tone laced with joyful confidence as he hung up, leaving the older Winchester hanging.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

"Woah!" Jody shouted, pitching forward when Dean's arm raised, his phone clasped in his hand. She grabbed his arm, wrapping hers around the tense bicep that was about to hurl the object across the room. "We need that, honey; we need the number that called you," she murmured, prising his fingers open to save the device. The Winchester's hand loosened, letting her take it as he lurched to his feet.

"GOD DAMMIT!" he bellowed, picking up the closest chair and smashing it into one of the long bookcases that lined the library walls. He howled and raged his anger, booting over another bookcase, raining destruction through the library.

"Dean, stop!" Castiel came up behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Dean turned and swung, catching the angel across the jaw with his fist. Cas' head snapped to the side but he was unfazed by the blow, grabbing Dean's other shoulder and looking him square in the eyes. Eyes that were narrowed and full of anger, pain and frustration, guilt flicking through when he met Cas' look and the rage began to quell. Cas gave him a grim nod, answering the unspoken apology. "It's alright. You're allowed to be angry, but we need to focus – use this time effectively."

"Castiel is right," Jody interrupted, rubbing a warm, comforting hand across the hunter's back. "Sam managed to get away –"

"He took him again –"

"I know, sweetheart, but that means we have a window of time where Sam was free. We need to focus on that, Dean. Maybe someone saw him, maybe he left a trace somewhere. We need to find that to find him. It's more than we've had in days and we need to focus on that. We'll start with the phone and the number plate."

"The phone's no good," Dean mumbled, taking his phone gently from her hand and bringing up his call list. He showed it to her. Jody frowned. "We can't track an unknown number. Whoever's phone it was, they didn't use it for personal calls."

Once again, Jody gently plucked it from his fingers and gave him a hard, reassuring smile.

"Then we'll track the car. Sam got us that much and the plates will be real. It's something and we need to get to work on it."

"Did he say anything else?" Cas asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at the pain that flashed through Dean's. The Winchester swallowed visibly.

"He said they'd branded him."

Jody and Cas stood in stunned silence. Jody's expression twisted into one of horror, speaking volumes on its own.

"Sweet Mary Joseph," she whispered. Dean screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose, controlling the waves that tried to pull him under.

"He said it was Enochian. That it blocked angels. He started sayin' somethin' else but he got cut off." Taken. Again.

Cas frowned.

"That must be why I haven't been able to get through to him. I'll start looking for it in the archives – see if I can narrow it down and see what they used. I might be able to find a way around it," he explained, walking off to the cataloguing section.

"Hey." Jody gave Dean's arm a squeeze. He looked down at her. "Do you know what the most important thing you got from that conversation was?"

Dean frowned, confused. He shook his head and she smiled fiercely.

"Sam's still fightin'. He hasn't given up and he knows we're looking for him. Hold on to that."

oOo

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