Thank you to everyone who is reading/reviewing and following!

Quick warning: Be advised that there is one scene which is more graphic than usual. If you wish to skip it, it's halfway through the section which I have made the 'oOo' BOLD at the beginning and end.

oOo

"I only see the truth through all these fears."

- Here by Me, 3 Doors Down

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

Don't scream. If you scream, he'll hear. He'll come.

Sam bit his lip, blood drip onto his tongue – it was the first moisture he'd felt for what felt like days – as he burrowed his head beneath the pillow. Still the static resonated, louder and louder, drilling into his head. The mattress and the pillow made barely any difference, but he couldn't raise his hands to cover his ears and he had to do something.

It had been hours.

Hours of continuous darkness and white noise pressing around him, interjected with visions of blood and death and pain. It was like being back in the cage all over again. He couldn't stop it and not even screaming for Thomas had made the Englishman materialise. That brought its own panic; why wasn't Thomas coming? Had something happened? Sam knew he couldn't do this alone; he needed Thomas: as much as he had ever needed Dean. That opened up a whole new level of his grief, throwing in an overwhelming guilt that stole the air from his lungs. He'd never needed anyone more than his brother. But Dean had left him and Thomas was all he had.

He couldn't take much more; he was going to lose it.

Just like that, the static ended and the lights flickered on. Suddenly all he could hear was the sound of his own ragged breathing. Blinking rapidly against the invasion of light that peeked in beneath the edge of the pillow, Sam peered out from underneath, afraid to lift his head, just like he'd done when he was little and thought that if he showed his face the monster would appear. Only, this time, that monster was real.

Looking to the door, he waited, hoping with everything he had that Thomas was going to appear.

oOo

Anna moved away from the laptop, having shut down the cellar's speaker's audio controls and went to the door, opening it for Thomas. Behind him, it had grown dark and his face was pale and drawn in the light shining from the house. He cradled a black metal box under one arm and a book in his other hand.

"You look exhausted," she commented sympathetically, taking the items off him and helping him to remove his jacket.

"I'm alright. How is Sam?" he asked, brushing off her concern with a tired smile. Walking over to the laptop, he peered at the camera footage, a concerned frown marring his forehead when he saw the hunter lying in a bizarre position with his head beneath his pillow. "How long has he been like that?"

"A little while," Anna shrugged. "I'm assuming he found the light too bright and is trying to sleep but I didn't want to turn it off. He hasn't made a sound for a while."

Thomas nodded, too weary to probe further. Sam was in once piece and nothing drastic had happened. He picked up Sam's journal, thumbing it lightly.

"I need to go through Sam's journal and prepare the spell for the final few visions; I know we've had to change our plans but we can't do a lot until tomorrow so I'd like to continue with them anyway," he explained, taking a seat at the desk. He looked up, surprised, when Anna plucked the journal from his grasp.

"No, Thomas. What you need to do is go and sleep. You need to be well-rested for tomorrow. I can do the spell for you; it's not a problem. Just show me what you need me to do," Anna instructed, tucking the journal under her arm, away from Thomas' reach. He was going to argue, but one quirk of her eyebrows changed his mind. Pulling out a tome from his desk drawer, Thomas flicked through to a bookmarked page.

"It's this one," he showed her, pointing to the top half of the page. "You'll need to look through his journal for names of people he knows and has a connection with – living people. Be careful with the spell: the bottom half of the page is the same but far more potent; I don't want to do that to Sam."

"I can manage – I'll follow it as I did last time. Now, go on," Anna chided, ushering him from the room. He left, taking the odd black box with him. She listened, taking a seat back at the desk, as he went upstairs, setting the spell tome on the table, her gaze lingering on the second half of the page. She'd wait until he was asleep properly before she started.

Turning back to the laptop, her lips pressed into a thin line. The way Samuel was lying, his head jammed under the pillow, curled into a foetal position on his side, made her wish she could go down there. Her fingers itched to press down on that pillow. He wouldn't be able to stop her – not with his hands chained to his waist as they were. It would take a few minutes, ones that she would savour, listening to the end of his pitiful moaning. It would be such a sweet sound.

Not yet though; she would have to be patient.

Sighing, she flipped open his journal and began a cursory read.

It was time to find out what made Samuel Winchester tick.

oOo

Thomas eased his shoes off, placing them carefully by the door as he loosened his tie, slipping it over his head and hanging it from his tie rack. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt as he sat wearily on his bed with Sam's box in front of him. While he was exhausted, he was dying to know what Sam considered precious enough to keep in a world where he didn't keep many possessions.

Opening the lid reverently, he let it fall backwards gently, revealing its treasures. He began pulling out each item one at a time, holding each one up, feeling them between his fingers, inspecting them closely. The leaflet for the retirement home – Oak Park – was the newest item in the box; it still had that crisp smell that recently printed booklets came with. Its cover was immaculate and free from creases. Perhaps it had something to do with a case Sam had worked? Thomas put it to one side and picked up a simple gold ring. It was large – a man's ring – and unadorned with any design or stones: a wedding ring. It was smooth and well-cared for but was far too big when he slipped it onto his own finger. It was most likely John Winchester's.

Next came a curious object. It was on a piece of black string, the kind that some necklaces were made with, and had a strange head carved in clay hanging from it. It was bulky and crudely made – similar to something a child would make in school – with two long flat ears and a pointed face that looked almost like some forgotten deity. It was a most peculiar object: Thomas couldn't imagine Sam – or the other one – making such a thing in school and valuing it enough to keep it. One day, when this was all behind them and they had their peace, he would ask about it. His mind flitted back to the present momentarily: he would need to make sure Sam go another round of his concoction tomorrow as well; the lad would need to keep taking it until Thomas was certain that Sam's emotional connection to him was firmly cemented. He'd given him enough in the water to see him through for the next day or so; he should be desperate for Thomas' company by the morning.

Placing everything back in the box, he closed the lid, knowing he would have time later to go through the rest. After tomorrow, Ketch wouldn't be a worry.

oOo

Jody. Claire. Alex. Eileen.

Interesting how Samuel seemed to have surrounded himself with women in recent years. Anna was hardly surprised; hunters were base animals after all. They had base needs. He didn't speak of them that way, but he was probably deceiving himself, making it seem different to how it was. A typical hot-blooded male.

She wrote their names out carefully on small slips of paper, ready to be thrown into the fire when the rest of the spell was ready. Anna looked again at the ingredients. It was intriguing how the two spells only had one difference: the regular one used juniper berries whereas the 'potent' one (as Thomas put it) required nightshade. Luckily, they had both. Anna had no idea what the second version would do, but she hoped it made Sam suffer. She imagined him writhing in despair, watching those he cared for dying in horrific ways – the more horrific, the better as far as she was concerned.

Picking up the vial of purple liquid which she'd used the first time Thomas had had her prepare the spell, she dribbled it over the bowlful of leaves and twigs.

"Et ignis consumet," she chanted as the bowl caught fire, this time flaring blue rather than green. She dropped the slips of paper into the flames, smiling with grim satisfaction as they caught alight, curling over and disintegrating. Leaving it to crackle and burn, she turned to the laptop screen, wondering how long it would take to work – hopefully before she retired for the evening. She could wait. Turning back to the spell tome, she started flicking through it, looking for anything else that could be useful later on.

oOo

Finally, Sam pulled his head out from under the pillow and rested back on it, staring up at the ceiling. He was exhausted. Between his grief, his fear and his near-constant state of heightened anxiety, he had left his breaking point drifting in the past a while ago. He simply had nothing left to give. All he wanted was to sleep.

Letting his eyes drift closed, he tried his best to quieten the noise inside his head. Yet, he couldn't find anything peaceful to focus on. All the things he loved were gone. Taken.

Where do I want to be?

Sam let his mind wander, trying to answer that question. Slowly, like rain dribbling down a window pane, an image painted itself in his mind. A picture of himself sat on a porch, a book on his lap and Thomas sat opposite him, smiling fondly.

His eyes snapped open. That wasn't what he wanted.

Why not?

Look what he's done.

Protected you. Kept you safe. Put himself in danger. All of it: for you.

The depravation, the restraints…

Done out of necessity to make you see the truth. He would never hurt you. Deep down, you know it's true.

I can't live like this.

It's not forever.

Sam lay there, staring up at the blank ceiling, trying to fight the longing that rose up in him. He didn't know why he felt it – a part of him knew it wasn't natural but the soothing that came with the thought of the Englishman – much like the feeling when he would think of Dean – washed over him, draining away the doubt and the desire to defy.

Before he could linger on it, agony lanced through his temple, spearing behind his eyes. He gasped, eyes wide but the ceiling was gone, replaced by a wide redbrick room. He was standing at its centre, a metal surgical table in front of him. The edge of the metal was cool beneath his fingertips as his body leaned forwards, the digits tapping out a disjointed rhythm, the blade in his right hand clicking against the metal. There was silence except for a gasped choking, the sound hitching and gurgling. It matched the jerking, convulsive movements of the body lying on the table in front of him. The pale skin was barely visible beneath the red wash of blood that covered it. She was naked, huge strips of flesh missing from her abdomen. Sam felt his stomach roil and his throat constrict.

She was still alive: her skin flayed piece by agonising piece.

He didn't want to look at the poor woman's face, didn't want to see her expression twisted in excruciating pain as she choked through the pain. But Lucifer turned their gaze up and Sam felt his mouth widen in a grotesque parody of a smile. Her hair was matted, plastered to the sides of her face, blood bubbling and frothing from her lips. Dark, ugly bruises were barely distinguishable beneath the blood that marred her swollen cheeks. Wide, terrified brown eyes fixed on him and Sam howled as recognition set in.

"Please…stop…" Jody gasped, splattering from her toothless gums.

oOo

Oh, this was…exceptional. Anna had no idea was he was seeing, but Samuel's reaction was priceless. She leaned forward, turning down the speakers – Thomas didn't need to be disturbed by his piercing shrieks – as she sat back and enjoyed the little wretch writhe in the midst of his vision, unable to escape it.

This was only the first: it was going to be a long night for Samuel.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

"Is this the first time you've noticed that Thomas has been here?" Ketch asked. They were sat around the library table, the fragments of the photo laid out in front of them. Dean and Castiel sat opposite Jody and Ketch, a half-empty tumbler in Dean's hand next to a slowly disappearing bottle of whiskey. Dean glared at the Englishman.

"I was kinda preoccupied with the idea that my brother had been abducted. Noticin' somethin' wrong here wasn't high on my list of 'things to notice'," he growled, hating how Ketch was making him feel incompetent. "He wasn't taken from here."

"That may be true, but, if Thomas could get in undetected this time, I would assume he has done it before. He would want to understand his target. Is anything missing?" Ketch pressed, ignoring Dean's look and tone. He wasn't interested in emotions; he wanted facts.

"Sam kept a box of stuff – photos, Dad's wedding ring – stuff that meant somethin' to him. I can't find it," Dean murmured, clearly bothered by the fact that it was missing. That box was a part of who Sam was; he didn't know what else his baby brother kept in it – it was personal. To have it taken was a complete invasion of his privacy.

"Does Sam keep a journal?"

"What does that have to do with anythin'?" Dean frowned.

"If he does, I imagine that's gone too," Ketch explained. Jody rose.

"I'll go look," she offered.

"He kept it in his desk drawer," Dean called as she left. "Why would he take them?"

"Think: have you noticed anything else go missing?" Ketch ignored him. Dean huffed, frustrated by Ketch's lack of answers, but mulled over the question. His hand stilled on the glass tumbler as he glanced at Cas.

"Wait here." He got up and left, heading out to the garage. Jody came back in a few moments later, empty-handed.

"It wasn't there," she confirmed as Dean came back, stalking past them and heading for the bedrooms. She frowned after her. "What's he doin'?"

"Looking for something else that's missing," Cas explained, aware of the irony of the statement.

"Well?" Ketch prodded as Dean came back a deep scowl marring his forehead.

"My dad's journal," he answered as he tipped the reminder of his whiskey down his throat. "I haven't seen it since before Sam got taken. He had it last and there's no way he would've lost it. I don't get it."

"As I said: Thomas would want to understand his target. Given the nature of what's happened, I suspect that Thomas has become…obsessive. I would assume the journals went first – he wants to know Sam, beyond the captor/captive relationship. He will be studying your brother, learning all he can. The journals allow him to do that."

"So why come back for the box?" Jody asked. Ketch clasped his hands together, his thumb idly rubbing at the crucifix tattoo on the back of his right hand as he thought.

"That, I believe, is key to our understanding of their relationship," Ketch replied. Dean visibly bristled.

"They don't have a relationship or a connection; the bastard took my brother and that's it," he snarled.

"Hardly. Clearly, it's not something you wish to consider, Dean, but we must speculate on what has been happening – both when Sam was in England and in the last few weeks," Ketch chided, meeting Dean's scowled with a frank expression. "From what we'd gathered in England, following my questioning of James amongst other things, Thomas appeared to fulfil the role of a caregiver. He rarely aided any of the torture that Sam was subjected to; that was James' job. Instead, Toni had Thomas see to Sam's wounds – a practical move, considering Thomas' medical experience. We can therefore assume Sam came to associate Thomas with safety.

"Thomas is most likely using that to his advantage. We don't know what his plan is or even what he has been doing, but I suspect that he has been trying to indoctrinate your brother into whatever his plan is," Ketch continued, dread filling Dean the more he spoke. "If he can nurture those positive associations, Sam will do anything Thomas wants him to. Sam's mindset, from what Castiel has told me, was already fragile. It wouldn't take a lot to break him completely. I would even argue that taking the box could suggest that Thomas has succeeded in doing that – or that he's close. He might need more…ammunition, as it were, from Sam's life to use against him. Or, the items could be a sign of trust; Thomas got them to bring a level of comfort for your brother. I doubt it though; any associations to here – and you – would probably be detrimental to whatever he is hoping to do."

They sat in stunned silence, letting Ketch's speculations sink in. Dean skipped the glass and necked a mouthful of whiskey straight from the bottle. Jody took it off him and followed suit, letting the drink burn down her throat.

"Of course, there's another reason why he would come back," Ketch pointed out. Dean locked eyes with him. "He's goading you. It's a display of dominance: he can invade your home, your territory and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh, he's so wrong about that," Dean growled, taking another mouthful of the fiery liquid, "when I'm through with him, he'll be beggin' to die."

"Be that as it may, empty threats are pointless at this moment," Ketch remarked, almost rolling his eyes. "What we need to do is to find him."

"No shit."

"What did you find in Emporia?" Jody interrupted, redirecting them away from Dean's sarcasm.

"We identified the symbol and confirmed that it was made there," Cas replied, trying to help cool the tension that was rising between Dean and Ketch. The Englishman remained completely unfazed by Dean's sour look, simply nodding his agreement with Castiel's answer.

"How's that supposed to help?" Dean grumbled. Jody frowned at him; she could understand his frustrations and how much what Ketch had said would hurt but getting drunk and petulant wasn't going to help. She tugged the bottle out of his hand and put it on the floor beside her, out of his reach.

"Get your head outta your ass, Dean. I know you don't like what's bein' said but it's the most logic we've had for weeks. We need to use it so shut up and listen," she barked, staring him down until he dropped his gaze. His jaw worked as he seethed but he said nothing. Jody looked to Ketch, nodding for him to continue.

"While we have large gaps in our knowledge regarding Thomas' motives, we have enough that we can start to narrow down where he is," Ketch explained. He pulled out a notepad and began scribing a list as he spoke. "We know that Sam is being held on a farm and it's not out near Jefferson City – that was most definitely a red herring which suggests to me that we need to be looking in the opposite direction. Did Sam tell you anything about the farm? How many people were there, whether there were animals or crops, that sort of thing."

"No. He didn't say anythin'."

"I would doubt that Thomas would want to house Sam anywhere near people he doesn't know or trust; it gives him greater control over the situation. Let's assume then that they not on a working farm. Thomas wouldn't want to travel far – that would mean leaving Sam with Anna and, while I'm sure he would take more than adequate precautions, he will be paranoid. Have you got a map of Kansas?"

Jody hurried to a shelf and picked one up. She laid it flat on the table as the three men rose.

"Right, so, we're here," Ketch drew a circle around Lebanon with his pen, "and Emporia is…here." He circled again. He held the pen poised, his gaze thoughtful. "Where did Mr Tupper live?"

"Here, in Carlyle," Jody replied, pointing to it on the map. He drew another circle. Again, he straightened up and studied the map, tapping his pen against his lip.

"Lebanon is the anomaly in this picture," he explained. "Thomas wants to be close enough to be able to travel here but he wouldn't want to be close enough that you could find him easily. The rest of the activity is primarily down here. Therefore…" he drew a wide circle, encasing Emporia and Carlyle within it, "this is our preliminary perimeter. We're going to start looking up farm properties within this circle."

"That's a helluva lot of farms," Jody remarked, her eyebrows lifting.

"True so the sooner we begin, the better. We'll need to focus on disused ones or ones used as holiday destinations. Once we have a list, we'll be able to narrow it down further based on location," Ketch confirmed. "We also need to contact Mr Tupper's employer – they must have a record somewhere of where he went on his business trip. That will also help. Ms Mills, I would suggest you do that whilst Castiel and I begin narrowing it down and Dean goes and get some rest."

"Like hell am I –"

"You are no use to us at the moment," Ketch snapped, turning cold, hard eyes on the hunter. "You're intoxicated and frustrated. That's detrimental for us if we're going to try to use people's good natures to help us find your brother. You've been driving for two days and barely slept thanks to that tornado. You need to be sharp for when we go to find Sam – not sleep deprived and useless. It makes you a liability. I do not go into any situation with a team that is likely to put me in danger."

Dean stared at him incredulously. He looked to Cas and Jody, waiting for them to step in and defend him. Both were conveniently looking anywhere but at him.

"Fine," he snarled, lurching to his feet. "Come wake me when you got somethin'."

The hunter stormed from the room before Ketch could reply, his pride wounded even though he knew, deep down, that the Englishman was right.

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

Sam jumped, his frayed nerves sparking panic through his chest when he heard the cellar door creak open. He'd spent the night being tormented by more visions – ones of Claire and Alex and Eileen – where he was forced to watch those he cared for die slowly and horrifically. Unlike the other visions, these hadn't cut out; they'd been long and agonising, every second lasting for hours. His dry throat was sore from screaming and begging as he watched, the sound of his own laughter ringing in his ears.

He'd killed them.

The underlying knowledge that they were suffering because he had let Lucifer in, let him take control, was the worst part. They could have been saved if he hadn't been selfish. Because they'd known him, Lucifer had hunted them. Because they'd been kind to him, Lucifer put them through the worst torment he could devise. And for each of them, he told them why he was doing it.

He'd lost everything. Except Thomas.

The only thing that gave him the tiniest shred of hope was that Thomas would help him escape and put things right. Sam would never get his loved ones back, but he could end the suffering of everyone else. He didn't deserve to have them back, not after what he'd done.

Sam struggled to sit up as light pooled onto the floor by the entrance, quickly disappearing when the door was shut and Thomas descended, a tray balanced in his hands. His tripping heart slowed, easing the tension from his shoulders when Thomas smiled at him softly.

"Lunch time, Sam – sorry it's a bit late," he greeted, keeping the smile plastered in place, even though concern welled inside him. Sam looked awful: his eyes were bright – almost feverish – with anxiety, his skin had a sickly pallor and he was sweating.

"Lunch?" Sam rasped, his voice crackling. "Thomas, you've been gone for days!"

"What? Sam, it's been a few hours; I left you at breakfast," Thomas lied smoothly as he sat on the chair and uncapped one of the water bottles that he'd brought in. He'd mixed in a double dose of his concoction, shaking both bottles until it had dissipated. He was perhaps being overcautious – the dose from the previous day was clearly still working.

"It can't have been – you…I…" Sam hesitated, clearly unsure but unable to pinpoint why.

"Here," Thomas offered the straw in the water bottle and he watched as his ward sucked on it greedily. "Slow down, Sam – you'll make yourself sick," he chided, almost pulling the straw away but Sam followed the movement and continued to drink, slowing the pace until he'd finished the whole thing. It was a good thing he'd brought two bottles down. "Why do you think it's been days?"

"That's what it felt like," Sam murmured, his voice a bit smoother thanks to the water. He licked his dry lips. "I thought something had happened, that Lucifer had…" His voice trailed off.

Concern. Oh, this was excellent – better than he'd expected. Thomas fought to keep his excitement cloaked.

"Had what? Found me?" he finished for Sam. His ward nodded. Thomas gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Sam; you needn't worry. I do have some news but, first, I do have a concern."

Sam frowned in confusion. Thomas lifted a hand and tugged gently on the gag still hanging around his neck.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, guilt etched across his face. "I was just so damned thirsty. I got it off so that I could have some of the water you left but then the lights went out and I knocked it over anyway."

Thomas stilled. Anna hadn't mentioned anything about the lights.

"The lights went out?"

Sam nodded. "When they went out, the static started too."

"Have you been having visions?" Thomas pressed, putting what Sam had said to one side for the moment. Maybe the visions had been stronger than he intended. Sam nodded. "Do you know what they're of?"

"I see Lucifer," Sam replied quietly, lowering his gaze. "I'm guess I seeing what he's doing. Out there – in the real world."

Silence hung in the room as Thomas waited before answering, his silence confirming Sam's fears.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Thomas offered quietly, stretching out a hand and patting Sam's thigh comfortingly. He didn't flinch at the contact – yet another good sign. Sam shuddered, tears welling in his eyes.

"The things I've seen him do – the people he's hurt…" Sam's voice broke before he could finish and he swallowed hard, trying his best to control his despair.

"I know, Sam, I know. But we'll make it right. I'm sorry you've had to see that, I truly am. You're protected from them when Anna is around – she's able to block them, which is why you didn't have any while we were down here with you. I hadn't realised how severe they'd gotten."

"What does it mean?"

"I think it shows the connection between you and this world is beginning to loosen. But the fact that the lights went off, coupled with the research I've been doing, concerns me. I need to go and make some arrangements before I come back and tell you what we're going to do next," Thomas explained as he reached up and untied the cloth from around Sam's neck. His ward looked at him, his eyes wide and pleading.

"Please don't – not again, Thomas. I got it off hours ago and I've not said anything – you know I haven't. You can trust me. Please," he begged. Thomas chewed his lip, staring at Sam thoughtfully. Perhaps it was time to test Sam's loyalty.

"Alright," he said, putting the cloth to one side. Leaning forward, he produced his keys and unlocked the chain linking Sam's wrists to his waist, but left them connected to each other. "I'm trusting you, Sam. Please don't let me down."

"I won't," Sam replied, his tone emphatic.

"Good. I'll be back in a bit. I want you to have eaten by the time I come back, alright?" He instructed, pointing to the sandwich and fruit on the tray next to the other bottle of water. Sam nodded. Thomas patted his knee and rose, pocketing his keys. He left, locking the cellar behind him as he walked back across the lawn to the house.

He climbed the steps and walked in, making his way into the kitchen where Anna had laid out breakfast. She was busy putting various items into a cool bag, but she stopped when he came in.

"How is he?" she asked politely as she poured his tea. Thomas pursed his lips, a pensive frown flitting across his face.

"Troubled," he replied, running a hand over the fine hairs of his stubble. "Did anything happen with the lights yesterday?"

Anna sat down and began buttering her toast as she shook her head.

"Not that I remember, why?"

"There were no power surges?"

"If there was, it must have been brief – I didn't have the lights on during the day, except in the cellar of course, so it would have been minutes if it had," she lied effortlessly, her tone perfectly normal.

"How strange. Sam said that the lights went out and he heard static. Did you hear any coming through the speakers?"

"I didn't hear a thing from them, I'm afraid. What does that mean?"

Thomas stirred his tea idly with a spoon, watching it create a miniature whirlpool.

"I don't know exactly. I can only assume that the spell which created the visions and the concoction in his drink reacted together, creating an anomaly within his hallucinations. It's fine; we won't need to recreate the visions again so that shouldn't be a problem."

He didn't suspect a thing and there was no way that Samuel would even consider that she had done it to him. It was…pleasing to know what she was able to do undetected; it left plenty of avenues open for the future. Having spent the evening going through that rather fascinating spell tome, she had more than one trick up her sleeve.

"Did you bring up the restraints we'll need for travel?" she asked before taking a bite of her toast.

"No. I don't think they'll be necessary," Thomas replied. Anna stopped chewing. She stared at him incredulously before swallowing.

"What on earth do you mean 'not necessary'?"

"Sam is much more cooperative – he's not going to be a problem. You said yourself that you hadn't heard anything from the cellar and he got his gag off yesterday. He's terrified of Lucifer and I need to nurture the trust between us. Being heavy-handed now isn't going to be conducive for that," he explained as he ate.

"You can't seriously be considering moving him without any sort of restraints?! Thomas, that's madness – you can't trust him that much!" she exclaimed. There was no way she was going to be in a car with the brute loose.

"Of course not," Thomas retorted mildly. "But I don't think a full set of irons is necessary. To be perfectly honest, I think I'm going to have more trouble getting him out of the cellar than anything."

Inwardly, Anna seethed. She didn't want that wretch comfortable; she wanted him to suffer – strapped down, immobilised and cramped. Silent and out of the way was exactly how she wanted him. At the very least. A growing part of her didn't want to put up with him at all. That part was expanding, swelling within her. She wanted to stamp him out. Permanently. She couldn't help but imagine waiting for Thomas to get out of the car, Samuel lying on his side, tightly bound, on the back seat behind her. She would wait a moment, watch Thomas go into the rest stop, before reaching back and jabbing a needle into one of his veins. She would depress the plunger slowly, taking her time, letting the air bubble ooze out of the syringe and into his blood stream. It would take a few moments; he'd buck and squirm, moaning pitifully before he finally stilled. And she'd watch every second of it with pleasure.

But the image of Thomas' plan coming to fruition overshadowed the fantasy. She wanted Sam gone, but she needed to see Thomas' work completed just as much as he did. For that to happen, they needed the little nuisance. His time would come eventually. She was a patient woman.

"Are you at least going to gag him?" she calmly inquired, controlling her tone, letting the image fade. "Blindfold him? We've put so much emphasis on keeping him quiet so that he thinks Lucifer won't find him that not doing so now when we're moving him will be detrimental." Plus, there was no way she wanted to sit in a car with him for ten hours when he had the ability to make conversation.

"He'll be blindfolded, yes; I don't want him to know where we are or where we're going. I'm not gagging him though. He's proven to me that he can be trusted," Thomas answered calmly. Anna fought to keep herself civil but it was proving difficult.

"I think that you're making a mistake, Thomas. We'll have to stop for rest breaks and I dread to think what will happen. Ten hours is a long time in a car – longer considering he's not been out of that cellar properly for weeks. Think about what happened last time," she remarked, gesturing to the yellowing bruises on his face from his broken nose.

"That was before. He's different now. I think you're worrying over nothing," Thomas smiled, his flippancy irritating her.

"Mark my words, something will happen." She would make sure it did.

Thomas sighed. "We'll be taking most of our belongings with us anyway, Anna, so if – and that's a big if – something does go wrong, we'll be prepared. The last thing Sam wants is to leave in the same way he arrived; I can guarantee that he will do whatever he can to avoid a repeat performance. Now," he ended the conversation, wiping his hands on his napkin, "I'll start packing the car before I head back down to him. Moving Sam will be the last thing we do before we go."

Anna nodded silently as he got up and left, missing the glare which pierced his back. Resentment seared hot within her; Thomas always listened to her. That he wasn't this time was Sam's fault. It was yet another strike that she needed to add to his list of misdemeanours.

It looked like she was going to get the chance to try out her new tricks sooner than she'd thought.

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Dean felt a lot better having slept for a few hours. He hadn't thought he would, but it would seem that stress, forty-eight hours on the go and bad whiskey combined to make one hell of a knock out combination. He would never admit it to Ketch though; Dean was still seething at the Englishman's patronising nature. He was not a child – he was a damned good hunter and he was not going to be side-lined again.

Yanking on a clean shirt, he walked towards the library, almost bumping into Jody as he rounded the corner.

"We got something!" Before he had a chance to say anything, she grabbed his hand and pulled him eagerly towards the library, her eyes alight. His heart tripped at her words as he hurried after her. Castiel and Ketch were both stood up, looking down at the map, the pen back in Ketch's hand.

"What've you got?" Dean asked eagerly, noting the palpable difference in the whole atmosphere.

"We've found it – the farmhouse," Cas replied, giving one of his rare smiles.

"What?! Where is it?" Dean looked down at the map, leaning on the table. Ketch jabbed a finger to one point. Dean looked at the name: Geneva.

"We've been working our way through the lists we created last night and began cross referencing against Thomas and Anna's names and aliases. Nothing was coming of it until we received a call back from an associate of another man on our list. He'd heard that a neighbouring farm had been leased to a man named Magwitch," Dean looked at Ketch questioningly, "– another character from Great Expectations which is where Thomas got his previous alias from."

Finally. They had something.

Dean studied the map.

"That's a four hour drive from here," he calculated before looking around the small group. "Pack up: we leave in five."

All of them nodded, even Ketch. They would get a plan going on the way, but, right now, they needed to move and move fast.

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

Thomas had come down twice, in the last half an hour, murmuring a few reassuring words and offering praise when Sam had eaten, but he'd primarily gone to the shelf and the metal cabinet, packing a range of items. The white pyjamas disappeared into a black duffel bag and the chains, handcuffs and straps went into another. Sam's anxiety grew as Thomas worked. He'd asked what the Englishman was doing, but Thomas had simply told him to be patient.

Now he paced nervously alongside the bed, brushing a hand back through his hair. Something was going on. It wasn't good – that much he knew. That Thomas wasn't telling him made it worse. He needed to know what was making the Englishman pack. Was he leaving? Was he giving up on Sam? The thought made his stomach plummet into the floor and his lunch threaten to reappear. Somewhere, deep within him, he loathed what he felt; he should've been stronger, able to take on anything alone. Yet, he was weak and he knew it.

The door creaked open and Sam's gaze whipped up to watch Thomas enter again. This time he carried another bottle of water in his hands.

"Thomas, please. What the hell is going on?" Sam implored, not even waiting until the Englishman was properly in the room.

"Take a seat, Sam; drink this," Thomas instructed softly, motioning to the bed. Sam did as he was told, taking the water and drinking. Even after the other two bottles, he still felt parched. He could feel the chilled liquid sliding down his oesophagus, fanning out inside him as though it was rain spattering on cracked ground, bringing it back to life. He kept his eyes on Thomas as he sat in the chair opposite. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows as Sam stopped drinking, holding the bottle between his hands.

"Now," Thomas began, his tone grave enough to send a chill through Sam. "In light of the research I've been conducting and the advanced nature of your visions, Anna and I have decided that it's become necessary for us to go."

Sam stared at him in stunned silence, his heart thumping hard and fast.

"You're going?" he murmured, eyes wide, hurt. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't do this on his own!

"No, no, no, Sam! You misunderstand me," Thomas replied quickly, shaking his head. Relief pooled inside Sam, but his heart didn't stop thumping. He sipped at the water again, trying to calm his nerves. "We're worried that this location is compromised; we need to go somewhere else. Somewhere safer."

Blood roared in his ears. Sam shook his head slowly, feeling almost like he was disconnecting from himself, like the movement wasn't really controlled by him.

"If we leave, he'll find me," he whispered. He hated the four walls of the cellar but he was safe here. Leaving the confined space had once filled his every waking thought, but now the notion filled him with terror. He couldn't do it. Despite his rising panic, he felt his heart begin to slow.

"He won't. I'll keep you safe, I promise. But I can't do that here anymore," Thomas insisted.

"I can't leave. I can't," Sam repeated, blinking slowly. He gulped down more of the water, wetting his dry mouth again. A wooziness was filling him, stuffing his head with cotton.

"You must, Sam. I know you're afraid but we must go now before Lucifer realises where we are," Thomas replied, his voice disjointed, far away. Sam looked at him, a confused frown etching into his brow. He looked down at the water in his hands.

"What did you do?" he asked, hearing his voice echo, the end of his sentence slurring slightly. Thomas gently took the water from him and reattached the chain between his wrists and waist.

"It's going to be alright, Sam; I've just given you a small something to help calm your nerves, that's all. It's absolutely nothing for you to worry about," Thomas soothed as he disconnected the chain linking Sam's ankle to the wall. He grasped his ward's upper arms firmly and helped pull him up.

"No…" Sam moaned, trying to twist from his grip, but his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated.

"Hush, Sam; trust me. It's all going to be fine. We're going to take a short walk to the car where Anna is waiting for us. I'm going to protect you: nothing is going to happen," he explained, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he pulled Sam towards the steps leading up. Sam took small shuffling steps, his stride shortened by the chain between his ankles. He barely fought; the sedative was working its way through his system, just as it was intended. Thomas hadn't wanted to resort to chemical compliancy, but he didn't have time to coax Sam out using reason. If he knew Ketch, he would be hot on their trail and they needed to put as much distance between themselves and the farmhouse as possible.

They climbed the steps and emerged out into the sunlight, Sam blinking owlishly against the bright light. Thomas kept a tight grip on his arm but it was almost unnecessary; Sam didn't try to pull away. In fact, he was walking as close as he could to the Englishman. They approached the car, the back passenger doors already open, whereupon Thomas helped Sam slide up into the seats.

"Good lad, lie down for me," Thomas praised, gently pushing the younger man down so that he was lying curled on his side across the backseats. He placed a pillow beneath Sam's head and produced a strip of black cloth. "I'm going to put this on Sam – just in case Lucifer has got any semblance of a connection left; I don't want him to know where we're going," he explained as he held it aloft. Sam nodded slowly but said nothing as Thomas draped the cloth over his eyes and tied it gently behind his head. Finally, Thomas placed a blanket over his prune form, tucking it in around his shoulders. "Try to rest if you can; it's going to be a long trip," Thomas murmured as he smoothed back Sam's hair before checking the child-locks were engaged and shutting the door. He climbed up into the driver's seat and smiled at Anna.

"Everything is going to be alright now."

oOo

I think I'm having a bit too much fun playing cat-and-mouse with Dean…

Please review!