-1Sam woke first, his head throbbing, battered and bruised, but otherwise unhurt. Groaning, he lifted his head from the dashboard, gingerly checking for broken bones. He didn't appear to find any, there was no nausea or dizziness so Sam assumed he was safe from any sort of concussion or head trauma.

'Dean?'

Turning, the youngest Winchester let out a pent up breath he didn't realise he had been keeping in, Dean was in a similar state; bruised but fine, he blinked a couple of times before breaking into a grin.

'You alright Sammy boy?'

'I'm fine, Dean.'

'Now let's check what that fucker's done to my car..'

Sam, smirked, rolled his eyes, then climbed out of the equally torn out car.

'Dean?'

'Oh man, look at this! Look at this! I only just got this damn thing back into shape!' Dean whined loudly, putting his hands on his head, he was seconds away from stamping his foot on the floor and bawling.

Sam bit his bottom lip worriedly. 'Dean?!'

Almost snarling, Dean shook his head and looked at Sam. 'What?! Can't you see I'm trying to panic her- Holy shit.'

In the middle of a road lay a body, the same kid they had seen before. His hands were still by his sides. Sam paused before rushing over to him, fingers finding the boy's wrist. But as Sam's soaked hands reached out and took the boy's, he jumped backwards, almost skidding over.

'Sam? What's up?' Dean asked, surveying the scene with dark eyes.

'Uh, nothing,' Sam lied through gritted teeth. When his fingers touched the boy's skin, there was a surge of heat, blood boiling, scorchingly hot. Slowly, Sam reached out again, brushing the boy's wrist with his fingertips. Nothing.

Still gnawing on his bottom lip, Sam turned the boy's hand around and felt for a pulse. But not before he saw the bloody mess on the underside of the boy's skin. It was red raw, a maw of symbols and complicated lines and shapes. Eyes widening, Sam poured over them, again brushing them with his fingers. The symbols had a greasy sheen of blood coloured over them.

'Sam? Is he alright?'

Looking over at Dean, Sam remembered what he was doing and quickly felt for the boy's pulse.

'There's a pulse, but it's weak.'

'Good, that's good, right?' Dean replied, shaking his head again. Sam looked back at the boy's wrist. There was no wound, no carving of symbols embedded in flesh.

Startled, Sam closed his eyes and opened them again. Still no symbols.

Thinking hard for a moment, the gears in his mind spinning with remarkable efficiently, Sam manoeuvred the boy and lay him down by the car, so that his head was away from the gathering puddles of frigid water pooling around them.

'Hey, hey, can you hear me?' Sam said softly. He couldn't see any visible injuries, there didn't appear to be any broken, fractured or dislocated bones jutting out of any limbs. He actually looked pretty damn good for somebody who had been supposedly hit by a car.

The boy's eyes fluttered, a faint noise, a groan perhaps, escaped from his blood caked lips - Sam hadn't noticed this little fact before, slowly he put his head slightly closer to the boy's, attentively listening to what he was trying to say.

'NO!' The word echoed across the landscape, cutting through the rain like a razor blade, there was a sound like a whip and Sam was catapulted into the air, landing haphazardly on his back with a yelp several feet away from the boy.

'Sam!' Dean delved into his pocket, pulling the .36 from his pocket, there was a click as he hurriedly loaded it and cocked it at the boy.

'Dean, don't!' Sam shouted from the ground, easing himself back up, wincing slightly.

'W-What?! Sa-'

'Don't.'

The voice wasn't Sam's this time, the two brothers looked over at the boy. He was stood up now, leaning against the car for support, hands slipping on the wet metal before he managed to regain his balance.

'P-Please, I didn't… I didn't mean to…'

His eyes rolled back and he fell forward.

There was a thump as he landed on the soaking floor. The soft underside of his wrist was facing up, Sam saw the symbols again, etched into flesh. By the time he registered it though, they were gone. They stared at the boy for a moment before Sam and Dean looked at each other.

'Just another day for the Winchesters..' Dean muttered under his breath.

'We should take him to the motel with us,' Sam said as he stood over the boy, frowning down at him.

'What?! Sam, are you serious?'

'Uh, yeah! You saw what he could do.'

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the depth of Sam's ignorance for a second before he opened them and glared at him. 'Yeah, exactly.' His voice went a step louder. 'I saw what he can do, he nearly killed you!'

Sam let out a hollow laugh, paused, then with little effort, lifted the boy into his arms. The kid let out a groan, winced, but was otherwise silent. There was no instant searing of pain this time, Sam was grateful of that.

'Sam! What the hell do you think you're doing?!' Dean demanded, hand drawn to the gun that he had put back into his jacket, waiting for the inexplicable cracking sound and the falling body of his sibling.

Sam sighed, shaking his head at Dean, and proceeded to lay the boy gently in the back seat of the bruised car.

'Sam, seriously? You're not putting that thing into my car!'

'That thing? Dean, he's just a kid.'

'A kid that can throw people around like rag dolls? Remember the last 'kid' who could do that? Yeah, the one that started murdering people, remember him?'

Sam turned to Dean, glaring. 'This one, he's different. You've gotta trust me with this, Dean.'

'Look, Samm-'

'Stop calling me that! I'm not six years old anymore, Dean. My name's Sam, alright?

The words cut through Dean like a knife. He stood there, speechless for a moment before grunting and walking to the driver's seat.

Sam exhaled, paused so he could let the rain soak into his skin a little more and cleanse him. It didn't work.

Looking up at the battered sky, Sam opened the passenger door and slid into the car, the seats squeaking slightly.

'Dean?'

Instead of replying, Dean stared out of the smeared windscreen before booting the car into willing ignition and slamming his foot down.

Sam kicked himself inwardly, however, in the back of his mind his mind was locked on the bloody symbols and the body on the back seat.