Disclaimers - Yeah, the usual...don't own, no money

Chapter 5

"Hey, Dan. It's Kaitlyn." Kaitlyn used her cell to make the phone call alerting Dan the fax was on its way. She stood outside the hotel room, not wanting to disturb Sam.

"Hey, Kait. What's up?"

"I've got a fax coming to you in a couple of minutes, if you could keep an eye out for it. It's a drawing - a portrait."

"Sure thing. You workin' a case out in Nebraska? Is there a link to something back here?"

"Uh, something like that. It's a…personal favor."

"You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?" Dan asked concernedly.

"Nah. I don't think so. I just want a general rundown on the guy if you find anything. And, don't worry, I'm in good company." Kaitlyn felt bad about being misleading, but there was really nothing Dan could do for her from that distance, so she'd rather he didn't worry, either.

"Sure thing, kiddo. I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thanks. You can reach me on my cell if you find out anything."

"Okay. I'll ring you later. Be safe."

"You too." Kaitlyn hung up after their familiar farewell and stepped quietly into the room. The sight that greeted her would have made her laugh if she hadn't known what was going on. Sam was sitting on the bed as still as a statue with all the concentration and focus he could muster, staring at the pencil in front of him. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked.

Sam was so intensely concentrating that he startled when Kaitlyn spoke. She had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from laughing out loud, but she couldn't stop the smile that escaped.

Sam gave her one of his patented two-second smiles. "Nothing yet," he said in frustration.

"Well, give it time. Things have always come easy for you, haven't they?"

"Some things. Studying, remembering odd facts, or even not so odd. But Dean was always the natural at the hands-on stuff - not just fighting, but…inventing things to make our job easier; or to save us money."

"He seems like a great big brother."

"Yeah, he is." There was great pride in that statement, but a certain amount of sadness and worry weighed the words down. Kaitlyn was forcibly reminded of the times Sam had watched as his brother was dying, somehow always pulled back from the edge. She had never been privy to the latter side of these events and had occasionally wondered if Dean had died, but on her occasional "check-ins" with the chosen ones, she never sensed that despair of loss that she thought Sam would have felt at losing his brother. When their father had died, it had come as a shock to Sam and he felt incredibly guilty about it, as he so often did about the too many tragedies of his young life. When her husband had died, Kaitlyn experienced a loneliness that couldn't be eased with the presence of those around her, not at first. She could understand, with the kind of lifestyle these men lived, that the loneliness that surrounded them was far more pervasive. It colored almost everything they did, and yet, they managed to stay afloat, finding happiness where they could, like little pieces of treasure they held up and shared with each other. That zest for life, despite the burdens they carried, was one of the things that bonded the brothers so deeply.

"You know he loves you, right?" She asked. Sam nodded. "Love is not blind, Sam, despite what people say. Love sees every flaw, every foible, and all the freakishness; but it chooses to love anyway, to stand by you, and to want you to become what you're meant to be."

"But what is that? Is this what I'm to become? A bigger, better freak? Or maybe just a pawn?" Sam asked with bitterness in his voice.

"Hey! I resemble that remark." Kaitlyn smiled gently at Sam. "This," Kaitlyn touched her hand to his head, "doesn't have to define who you are. When this war is over, you won't cease to exist because you're no longer a combatant. Who you are at your core, in your soul, won't change, just what you do."

Sam contemplated this a bit and nodded.

"Here. Let me help you. Try again." Kaitlyn offered. They took up the same position as before, sitting facing each other with Kaitlyn's hand on Sam's knee. The psychic connection was re-established and Sam set about concentrating on moving the pencil, drawing on the memory actively "playing" in his mind.

There was a shift, for lack of a better word, in their connection that caught Kaitlyn's attention. "Sam? What are you…"

At that moment, a third presence made itself known in Kaitlyn's head. With her defenses down, the yet un-named "he" had gained access to her mind, deeper and with more control than he had been able to in the past. A cackle ripped through her mind and she drew back.

The new psychic presence had an effect similar to electricity. When a person is being electrocuted by a strong enough current and gets locked in place, any person attempting to help by grabbing them ends up becoming part of a chain. Unable to let go, the electricity passes through to that person as well. This was the affect the invasion was having on Sam and he could do nothing. He was still linked with Kaitlyn, experiencing the charge like she was, and he wasn't skilled enough to let go, let alone help her.

The man went through Kaitlyn's memories as one would a file cabinet. He flipped quickly past some, and grabbed others to examine, opening, spreading them out for all to see, so to speak. It wasn't so much that the memories he pulled up from her past were painful. She, fortunately, had very few of her own painful memories. It was the utter lack of control. Her mind had been her sanctuary. She had come to terms with the fact that her body was subject to the physical world. Age, illness, things beyond her control, could affect her body. Her soul had been surrendered to her God at a young age. It was bought with blood and she didn't own that anymore, either. But her mind was still hers to control. She sometimes made poor choices, but they were hers to make. That was no longer the case. And the man who had taken control either didn't realize Sam was still connected, didn't care, or possibly, enjoyed the fact that Sam was as helpless to do anything but witness as Kaitlyn was to prevent it.

Dean walked into the room at this moment, nearly letting their food, which he carried, hit the floor. Both Sam and Kaitlyn were on their feet, bent slightly at the waist with their hands holding their heads. It was an odd mirror effect. Each had backed into opposite walls of the room. Dean dropped the food unceremoniously on the table and walked the two strides it took to get over to Sam, grabbing him by each arm to support him and try to communicate with him.

"Sam? Sam!" He glanced at Kaitlyn then back to Sam, giving him a slight shake to try to bring him out of whatever state he was in.

The unseen presence spoke to Kaitlyn, "I was told a secret." He laughed. "I think you might enjoy it as well." He honed in with a precision that comes from practice and skill to the memory of the night of the accident. Like the nightmare from the night before, he started the sequence of memory from when she awoke in the car. Since he had something specific to show her, he didn't let her sit alone long, superimposing himself on her husband's image. Like the dream, he reached over and grabbed her chin, but this time instead of leaning in, he simply said, "Look."

Things were happening so fast, Kaitlyn was having trouble keeping up with what was going on. From the moment of the cackle, realizing someone else was there, and knowing who it was, she had started trying to put up defenses. It seemed, however, that each wall she put up was either torn down, or erected too slowly to be of use. When the voice spoke to her of a secret, she filled with dread. Then she found herself in the last place she ever wanted to be…again. She opened her eyes, knowing what she was going to see. However, when she looked over at her dead husband, she saw that other man's face and, like last night, drew back as far into her seat as she could. She was oddly relieved not to have to see her husband, but knew that something worse was coming. The relief was, indeed, short-lived. He reached out with his bloodied hand and grabbed her face.

"Look," was all he said as he directed her attention out the car window. She didn't understand what she was supposed to be seeing. A large black plume of smoke came off the drunk driver's car. Funny, I don't remember there being a fire.

"Did you catch it?" He sneered and, with a laugh, he said, "Let me show you again." And this time, the memory played out in painfully slow motion. The black plume of smoke hadn't emanated from the car's engine, radiator, or from anywhere under the hood, but rather from the area of the driver. As the memory started to replay for the third time, Kaitlyn actually leaned slightly in the direction of the drunk driver's car and squinted to get a better look, filled with both curiosity and trepidation. There was something familiar that was clawing at the back of her mind. The man, sensing she was on the verge of understanding, stared at her with insane delight. While she watched, the black plume was released, and she saw that it came from the driver. Sudden realization hit her. She had seen that before. It was the same black release she had seen when the demon controlling the driver of the truck that had rammed the Impala, decided it would rather live than be killed by Sam. It was the same swirling black that escaped John when he could no longer hold onto it. It was the same alive blackness that spewed out of Meg when the exorcism ritual was completed. The drunk driver that had killed her husband had been possessed. Its job done, it left the scene of the crime.

Something inside Kaitlyn gave way and she pushed out with all her psychic strength, forcing all presences from her mind. She crumpled to the floor, her energy spent.

At the same time, the psychic push snapped Sam's head back and he crumpled. Had his brother not been there to catch him, he also would have fallen to the floor. He had what could only be described as a seizure as the push wreaked havoc with his nervous system.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean was near panic now.

Sam stilled beneath him. Weakly he said, "Yeah. I'm good." He tried to get his breathing under control.

"The hell you are! What happened?"

It took a second for everything that happened to register with Sam. He unsteadily got to his feet, still holding onto his brother for support. He looked at Dean and, as the fog cleared and understanding came to him, he tried to push away from Dean to get to Kaitlyn. "Kaitlyn?" Dean held fast, not ready to let Sam go, afraid he would fall, and not wanting him anywhere near Kaitlyn.

She was also getting up from the floor. At the sound of her name, she looked up at Sam with wide, terrified eyes on the verge of tears. She was still processing what she'd seen and what it might mean.

"What did you do?" Dean's accusation cut her to the core. Had she not just witnessed what she had, she might have been able to offer a defense. But his question came too close on the heals of finding out that her husband had been killed in a demon attack and her only thought was that it was her fault. She tried to run from the room, but Dean let go of Sam with one hand and grabbed her arm. "What. Did. You. Do?" Fury showing through his eyes; his own guilt, for leaving Sam alone with her, rolled off him and added itself to hers. She struggled to get her arm free of his grip, as her fight-or-flight response was in full flight mode.

"Dean. Let her go." Sam said gently, patting his brother's chest and bringing Dean's attention back to himself so it wouldn't be on Kaitlyn. Dean let her go as he saw tears start to spill from her eyes, and she ran from the room.

She ran to her car - her place of safety and familiarity. In an attempt to shield herself from the emotions of others, Kaitlyn had built, in her mind's eye, a dam. It had enabled her to control the flow of emotions from other people. She could open it wide, when she wanted or needed to, or she could close it tight, blocking herself off from those around her. What she hadn't realized was that her own emotions were part of the reserve behind the dam. This memory, replayed with all too graphic detail, and the revelation that came with it, served as a well-placed explosion. There was now a crack in her dam. She had to find a way to shore it up or be swept away in the flood when it came crashing down. Right now, drowning seemed like a welcome option - to just let go and be carried away - but the voice that guarded her soul spoke words of comfort and wisdom. Instead, she opened the spillway of her own emotions and cried, releasing some of the pressure on the wall.

"What happened?" Dean asked, not for the first time.

"That man, the one from the portrait she drew, came back. He…attacked her. She was trying to help me with the telekinesis, so we were linked. It wasn't her fault, Dean." Sam was trying to explain, but it didn't totally make sense even to him. He continued. He wanted Dean to know it hadn't been Kaitlyn's fault. He needed Dean to know. They couldn't lose faith in another of the chosen children. "She…she was trying to stop him. Then he showed her the car crash. And I guess she just lost it, but she wasn't trying to hurt me, just get free."

"So, what? You were just…in the way?"

"No. I don't think she could get rid of him without breaking the connection with me. She had been trying to block him, from both of us, but he was too strong. I didn't sense that she was trying to hurt me at all."

Dean sighed, "Alright. But what made her freak out?"

"…Dean!" Full comprehension of what Sam had witnessed came to him. "That car crash - the one that killed her husband - wasn't the result of a drunk driver. It was a demon!"

"What?"

"A demon. A demon was possessing the drunk driver. It left right after the crash. She probably never knew until…now."

"Wait. How do you know? What happened?"

"I was there. I couldn't break the connection with her. I saw everything she did. And that bastard showed her the car crash and the demon."

"Son of a…" Dean trailed off.

"Yeah."

"Well…was it related to the Yellow-eyed Demon?"

"I don't know. The driver didn't have yellow eyes, I don't think, but that doesn't mean it wasn't working for him." Sam sat down. He was getting tired. The weight of what they had just found out was settling on the room, dampening everything and adding to his feeling of tiredness.

Dean looked out the window and saw that Kaitlyn was sitting in her car with her head resting on her arms over the steering wheel. She appeared to be crying. He felt a bad for having jumped to conclusions, though he really had no way of knowing. Guilt was something that both boys seemed to be able to cultivate easily in the well fertilized fields of their emotions. He also felt sympathy for her, knowing what it was like to have your mind and emotions turned against you. And he was angry, angry at the Demon - well, demons in general – their disregard for life, how they twisted lives and truth. He was angry at this s.o.b. who had stripped more innocence from an already torn and damaged soul. So he focused. He took the emotion and turned it into the raw energy that made him the extraordinary hunter he was, shifting his mind into overdrive and his body on high alert.

And the hunt began.

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Hundreds of miles away, a man lay in a hospital bed. His room was full of medical machinery, keeping alive an otherwise dead body. He was wasted away and atrophied – a weak and feeble shell of the human he used to be. His mind was the only part of him that seemed to be functioning of its own accord, but since he had been unconscious for months, the doctors were not really sure if that was even truly working.

All at once the machines that beeped and blipped, monitoring every aspect of his condition, went haywire. Alarms went off on almost all of the machines. Nurses and the resident on call came running into the man's room. But as quickly as it started, it ended, and the machines returned to their normal cacophony.

"Huh. It looks like he had some kind of seizure," the resident stated, marking his chart. "I've just never seen anything quite like that before. We'll have to run some tests."

A/N - Thanks to all who review, and thanks to all who are continuing with me on this journey. Much love to my test subjects, J.A.Carlton, Mom and mei mei. Thanks for enduring.