Disclaimer: (Forgot to add this in the last chapters!) None of the characters of Supernatural belong to me. It makes me cry at night...

Authors notes are at the end. Thanks for the reviews folks! Appreciate it!

Part Three: Splintered

-

I'll sing for you

If you want me to

Ill give to you

And its a chance ill have to take

And its a chance ill have to break

- Luna by the Smashing Pumpkins

-

The silence in the car was so thick that it made Sam feel even more nauseous than he had been. In fact, he was only able to finish half his Mc Muffin and one of the hash browns. The orange juice was gone in a flash because the drive had made him thirsty.

The scent of their father's black coffee permeated the Impala; Sam inhaled the scent of it and tried to calm himself down. The nauseous feeling in his stomach refused to go away, and the headache pounded at his temples and stabbed behind his eyes. The sunlight was too bright for his sensitive eyes, and only served to worsen the headache. Sam felt like he wanted to crawl under the biggest, darkest rock he could find and not come out for at least a year.

Dean was in the front seat stuffing his face with his enormous breakfast as he read one of his comic books and their dad was frowning at the concentrated on the road. Sam knew better than to disturb him when he was in such a mood. He tapped Dean's shoulder and silently offered his the remains of his breakfast.

Dean looked at it, then looked at him, frowning.

"Don't you want it?"

Sam shook his head wordlessly.

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I ate some of it. I'm just not hungry anymore."

Dean snorted. "I don't want leftovers that you've slobbered all over."

"I didn't slobber on it," Sam defended, but his heart wasn't in it, and they both knew it.

"Whatever. I don't want it either." Dean said, grabbing the Mc Muffin from Sam's hand and tossing it out the window. A passing driver honked their horn angrily and Dean gave him the finger.

"Dean," John said, frowning. "How many times do I have to tell you..."

"I know, I know," Dean interrupted, good-naturedly as he settled back down to read his magazines.

Sam jumped when Dean silently offered his own orange juice over the seat. Sam hesitated before he took it, and began to sip at the straw.

"Sam."

He looked up and met his father's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Find something to do that doesn't involve arguing with your brother."

"Yes sir."

Sam scowled slightly, but wasn't feeling up to starting an argument with his father, so he picked up his book and started to read, absentmindedly chewing on the straw of Dean's juice as he did so.

Sam had first met Pastor Jim when he was six. He wasn't sure exactly how long his father had known the kind minister of the small church in Blue Earth, Minnesota, but back then it hadn't mattered much. He remembered watching his father shake hands with the kind-faced pastor as Dean helped him out of the car.

At first he'd been shy, and afraid of Jim, hiding behind his father's legs and clutching Dean's hand. But it hadn't taken him long to come out of his shell. It seemed that Jim and himself were kindred spirits with a thirst for learning and an unending curiosity. And Jim had a kitten, one which he had rescued on a rainy night from the cold and the wet. Sam had always had a fondness for animals, and Jim had let him look after the tiny thing.

Blue Earth was a relatively quiet town in Minnesota, surrounded by rolling farm land and strands of woodland that lent it a peaceful air. The church was located on the edge of town, concealed by a stretch of woodland that was owned by the church.

Dean and himself had often been left in the care of the pastor, and it was Jim who had taught them Latin, and about god and all things holy. Dean had quickly become disenchanted with the idea of god, cynical even, but for Sam the awe that Jim had inspired in those days had never quite left him. There were times when he was down, or worried about Dean or his dad that he caught himself praying for them.

It had taken them two solid days of driving to reach Blue Earth, with Dean and John switching over frequently so the other could rest.

Sam still felt uneasy, and unwell and he had kept quiet for most of the journey, sleeping or trying to read. He had answered questions that had been directed at him, but hadn't spoken otherwise. No matter how much sleep he got, he still felt tired.

There had been a strange tenseness between the three of them since that night, and Sam couldn't help but feel responsible. He knew that he had in some way let down his father, and he was still waiting for the rebuke that never came and the anticipation left him on edge. So when the car eventually wound its way up the road that led to the church, the sense of dawning relief was almost palpable in the atmosphere.

Jim came down the steps of the church and smiled at them as they all wearily climbed out of the car.

He hugged Sam tightly and Sam inhaled the much loved scent of dusty books and herbs that he associated with the Pastor.

"How's everything?" he asked, releasing Sam and sweeping his sharp eyes over them all.

John smiled tightly at him. "As well as can be expected, all things considered."

"All things considered." Jim repeated as he shook his fathers hand. "Why don't you all come inside? There's dinner waiting to be eaten. I sent Caleb into town for some supplies but he shouldn't be too long."

"Caleb's here?" John asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I caught wind of a possible hunt a few towns over, and he came to get some information. I figured you two would want to catch up as well, so I invited him to stay for a few days."

John turned to follow Jim up the stairs.

"Unload the car boys. Usual rooms, Jim?"

"I'm afraid you'll be sharing with Caleb but I'm sure that won't be a problem will it?"

"Oh lord help us, no one will be getting any sleep," John grumbled when he saw Dean's grin.

Sam couldn't help but smile slightly at his brothers enthusiasm to see Caleb. The young hunter was in his mid twenties, and had been a part of both their childhoods. Dean and Caleb in particular were close and spent every moment that they were in each others presence arguing about anything and everything, and finding ways to piss each other off.

Dean and Sam often lapsed into periods of pranking and revenge against each other, and it was from Caleb they learnt most of their craftiness, much to John's exasperation.

Sam had often become the target for Dean and Caleb's combined efforts to annoy, and usually the thought of having the two in a room together would never fail to put fear in his heart, but he was too tired and nauseous to even worry about that now.

Dean helped him lug all of their stuff into their shared room but when Caleb's truck pulled up in front of the church he disappeared in a flash. Sam sat down on the trundle bed for a moment to regain his equilibrium. If anything, Sam was feeling even worse, the headache building in intensity over the journey until even the slightest movement of his head caused his vision to blur and bile to rise in his throat.

And he had never felt so weak. When he held his hands out in front of him, they trembled uncontrollably. Sam tucked them into the armpits and stood up slowly, wincing as his head viciously protested the movement. While he wanted nothing more than to sleep, he knew that his dad wouldn't be pleased.

So he made his way downstairs, avoiding the sound of his father and Jim in the kitchen talking in low tones, and Caleb's laughter and Dean's smirking voice in the lounge. Instead he slipped down the hallway that led to the church.

Pastor Jim's house was attached to the small church, and Sam had always loved to sit in the pews and look at the stained glass windows. Jim always had candles burning for some reason, and he knew that the church was blessed and protected with all sorts of wards and charms that only people who lead lives like theirs knew of.

It was shadowed and quiet in the church and Sam shivered at the sudden coolness, grateful for a moment to himself for once. Another disadvantage of being on the road all the time was lack of time to oneself, he had found. And in his family, that was a precious commodity if one was to maintain his sanity.

He raised his eyes to windows and smiled faintly, remembering a time when Dean had tried to scare him with tales of the mournful looking people in the windows. He had never been scared. Right now, they seemed to be a reflection of the tiredness in his soul, the bone-aching need to sleep so strong that his head felt muzzy with the need.

He half collapsed onto the front pew and rubbed his forehead as the headache receded slightly.

Churches were holy ground- nothing evil could tread upon blessed ground and finally, Sam felt like he was sheltered. That sense of being watched had never truly left him, and it was perhaps more draining than the constant nausea he was experiencing. He heard the side door he had entered through open and close quietly and he looked up to see Jim and his father approaching. A sense of dread washed through him almost immediately, and he began to stand but found he didn't have the strength.

His father looked grim and tired, and Jim smiled at him reassuringly.

"There's no need to look so apprehensive, Sam. We just want to talk." J

Jim sat down next to him, but Sam watched his father who had wandered over to the podium and was looking up at the windows as he had done.

"About what?"

"You father told me what happened. We believe it was a spirit, but we could find no trace of anything unusual in the area, no strange deaths. Nor any cursed ground. Is there anything you remember, anything at all that was significant about the incident that could help us?" Jim asked gently.

Sam swallowed and frowned, thinking. He felt the fear begin to rear its ugly head, but he pushed it back and thought over everything that had happened.

"No nothing. Just that it felt like I was being watched. I don't know of anything that does that. Do you?"

John turned to face them. "Neither do we. Are you sure that there was definitely something there? "

Hurt flashed through Sam like a whiplash and he glared at him.

"Of course I'm sure! I didn't make this up! Why would I?" he looked between his father and Jim. "You believe me don't you?"

John stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he looked away once more. Jim patted him on the shoulder.

"I know you wouldn't, Sam, but there's no evidence..."

"No evidence?! I was there! I know what happened! Why won't you believe me!"

Anger had lent Sam a burst of energy that he hadn't known he had possessed, and he was on his feet facing his father.

"Just because I don't know as much as you and Dean it doesn't mean I know nothing!" he shouted.

John whipped his head around to glare at him. "Mind your tone, boy! And mind your manners! You're a guest here, and you'll show Jim the respect he's due."

"Perhaps if we..." Jim began.

"Since when has that ever held you back?" Sam bit out, angry tears filling his eyes. "I'm not lying!"

"I said mind your tongue! I won't say it again!" John snapped back.

For a moment, disbelief filled Sam. A few nights ago, John had believed him. Hell, Dean had believed him. A fury so strong filled him that he thought he would burst. Tears spilled down his hot cheeks and for a moment, all he could do was glare at his father before he ran.

"SAM! Get back here! We're not done talking!"

Sam ignored his father and fled the church, running all the way up through the house and up the stairs to the room he shared with Dean. He slammed the door and threw himself down on the bed face first, giving in to the sobs that were tearing at his throat to get out.

The angry, furious tears scalded his cheeks but he did nothing to stop them, just buried his face in his pillow and cried until he feel asleep, feeling raw and bruised on the inside.

Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair. John looked irritated, and he barely spoke a word to Sam all morning. Caleb and Dean talked quietly together at the other end, and a part of Sam was glad that they had decided to leave him alone for once. Another part of him was hurt that Dean had decided to let him battle this one out alone. Dean was his protector, the negotiator of their dysfunctional family, and Sam couldn't help but feel abandoned by his disinterest in what was happening between him and their father.

Jim smiled warmly at him as he buttered a bread roll, and Sam managed a weak smile back.

"How are your studies coming along, Sam? Did you read those books I suggested?" he asked kindly.

Sam nodded. "I did."

"What did you think about the..." Jim began but Dean rolled his eyes and cut in.

"Please, Jim. Don't keep filling his head with all that crap. Who do you think has to listen to it day in and day out?"

"Dean, watch your mouth," John said sharply, not looking up from the paper.

"Yes sir." Dean said, grinning at Sam. Sam scowled at him.

"Anyway," Caleb cleared his throat hesitantly as he glanced John and then Jim. "Don't you think we should get started soon?"

Dean's interest was piqued immediately.

"Started on what?"

John folded the newspaper and glared at Dean, who shrugged nonchalantly. Jim sighed and put his knife down. Sam shifted nervously when he noticed Caleb watching him intently.

"A ritual, Dean, and one you will have no part in," John said wearily as if knowing he was in for a fight.

"What? Why?" Dean was immediately put off. John glared at him once more, and Dean backed off a little.

"It's a cleansing ritual," Jim put in. "For Sam."

Sam sat up straight, and Dean looked concerned.

"But...Why?" Sam could barely get his mind around the concept. "You...You think I'm possessed?" he realised shakily. John stood up.

"It's a chance we can't take, Sammy. We need to be sure," he said heavily.

Caleb stood up and slipped quietly out of the room as Jim began to clean up the kitchen inconspicuously.

"But...I'm not possessed, Dad," Sam began desperately.

"Yeah dad. I think..." Dean glanced at him looking upset. "We would have noticed."

"It's not just to make sure he's not possessed." Jim told them quietly. "It's to cleanse his spirit as well. To make sure that there's nothing that could connect him to a spirit of any kind."

"It's to make sure he'd not being haunted by a spirit for some reason that we don't know about." John added, his irritation lessening as he looked at Sam.

"Haunted?" Dean looked startled. "But he hasn't..."

"Dean!" John barked suddenly, and Dean jumped. "I know, okay? But it's better than nothing. Call it insurance, call it any damn thing you want but it's going to happen and its going to happen now."

John turned to Sam, who shrank back. John crouched in front of him.

"I know you don't like this, Sammy. But we have no other choice. I'm sorry." he said softly. "I just want to make sure that you're okay."

Sam stared at his father for a long moment, unable to believe the words that he had just heard come out of his mouth. It made sense, in a strange way. And if his father was so worried...

"Will it hurt?" he whispered.

"No, Sammy. It'll just be you and me." Jim crouched down on his other side and smiled warmly at him. Nothing to worry about. Your dad and Caleb will be in the background to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

Sam swallowed and attempted a cocky smile. "I'm not a baby, you know."

Dean smiled shakily at his from the other end of the table.

"You're not going to faint over there are you?" Sammy laughed weakly.

"Not on your life, Sam-o. Someone's got to stick around to save your scrawny ass."

"Come on then," John stood up, suddenly all business. "Lets get this over with then."

Sam got to his feet and looked uncertainly up at his father then at Dean.

"I'll be right there with you Sammy," Dean said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You'd better not," Sam muttered. "Keep your eyes on Caleb. No permanent markers or shaving cream, got it?"

Dean grinned as he feel instep beside him. Jim and John were leading the way into the church where Caleb was already waiting.

Dean took Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You'll be fine, Sam. Trust me."

"I do," he whispered, squeezing back. Dean let go and went to join Caleb at the back of the church. John's broad hand fell on Sam's shoulder and he looked up at his father uncertainly.

"Suck it up son. You listen to Jim and do everything he tells you to. Got it?"

A little hurt by John's words, Sam could do nothing but nod. His father left to join Dean and Sam couldn't hope but notice the gun in the back of his jeans.

Swallowing, he blinked back his tears and turned to Jim who wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"What do I do?"

Jim smiled at him as he drew him towards the stone podium at the front of the church. Upon it lay a pure white cloth, two gold candle sticks complete with slender white candles which were lit, a bible and a golden goblet.

On the floor before the podium a protection circle was drawn in chalk on the stone.

"It's just going to be you and me up here. They can't hear us back there, so you don't need to worry about that."

Sam nodded.

"Now first of all we're going to kneel in this circle here, and we're going to pray together."

Sam did as he was told and knelt beside the Pastor numbly.

"You remember the Lords Prayer, Sam?" Jim asked gently.

"Yeah."

"Let's pray together in Latin. You remember that don't you?"

"As if dad would let me forget," Sam snorted quietly and Jim smiled at the show of bravado.

"Okay then. Whenever you're ready, Sam."

Sam rested his hands on his thighs and bowed his head.

"Pater noster, " he began, his voice trembling and barely above a whisper. "Qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum."

As he spoke in sync with Jim, he felt the tears run unchecked down his face but he did nothing to wipe them away. Before him, coloured light from the windows spilled over the stone and he focused on the oddly beautiful display as he spoke.

"Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

He couldn't help but feel like he was condemned. Stained by what had happened, like it was his fault and he could barely contain the misery that caused.

"You still speak beautiful Latin, Sam. Let's get the rest of this out of the way shall we? "

Sam nodded wordlessly, and braced himself for whatever the next blow would be.

Translation: OUR Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

AN: Please note that i have no idea what Blue Earth, Minnesota is really like, so i've adapted it to suit my needs for this story! I have, however, looked at satellite imaging and from what i can tell, it's as accurate as its going to get. (I don't live in America, so i really have no idea about social norms and the like)

And the latin used in this chapter is taken from the internet, so i'm not sure how accurate it is either. I will be using bits and peiced of latin from time to time, so i will always try to provide an accurate translations.

Any questions, queries or suggestions can be directed to me via PMing/emailing or reviewing (HINT HINT!)