They emerged into the cold, dull gray light that permeated their surroundings: concrete, cars, stores, the downtown of the city.

"So, Dean…" Sam said, his voice trailing off as he took in the environ.

"Right," Canton replied. "You do your thing. I'll hang back a bit and make sure you're alright." He nodded.

Sam muttered his agreement, shaking his head as he concentrated on trying to pick out any sign of his brother from their surroundings.

Dean….he thought. Where are you? Who are you now? What would you be doing….?

He frowned as he noticed a commotion up the street.

Voices were rising and falling in unison, something that sounded like….

A brawl, he realized, as a door up the way ripped open, a group of irate men pouring out, shouting and shaking fists as a pair in the center of the mass duked it out there on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, uh, that looks like it might be him," Sam grunted, eyes on the two men in the center, one of whom appeared, even at this distance, to be of a familiar build, with dark hair. He walked quickly but in a way that he hoped appeared aimless, approaching the commotion. Canton nodded, following him at a distance, pretending to look at the signs that dotted the walls of the businesses along the way.

As he neared the clot of people, he saw that the potential Dean he realized, had the assailant pinned against the sidewalk, punching him repeatedly in the head, the onlookers booing and scrambling about as if uncertain of what to do.

His throat tightened as he saw the man's sleeve pull up, the unmistakable form of the Mark showing on his forearm as he swung for another punch.

Sam grimaced, suppressing the desire to call out. It hadn't worked before. Clearly it would do no good now, perhaps even harm in his brother's agitated state.

Instead, he lifted his hand to his mouth, mumbling into it:

"Up the block a couple doors, that fight. It's definitely him," he said, his voice betraying the underlying tension.

"Message received," The Doctor's voice chimed in his mind. "Carry on."

"Yes, good, keep me informed," Canton replied likewise.

'Yeah," Sam agreed, lowering his hand again.

He swallowed hard, trying to push the emotion back into himself as he focused. The people converged around his brother in the fight, blocking his view.

Grunting with dismay, he crossed the street, walking up the block a bit toward the fray, trying to get a better view.

As he neared, his view still eclipsed by the bystanders, he fought his impulses. Every fiber of his being wanted to rush forward to see him, grab him, stop him, anything. Yet he knew logically it wasn't going to do much good. There were too many people about here, too many to get in the way, too many civilians just waiting to get hurt. It was a fact that Dean wasn't going to come voluntarily, and might even attack, considering there was no telling what changes had taken hold from whatever Crowley had done to him.

He clenched his fist, feeling with his other hand the binding handcuffs in his pocket. If he could get close enough, he thought….

His attention shifted again, his heart leaping as the crowd parted, allowing him to glimpse his brother and his unwitting victim. Dean's figure was silhouetted against the neons in the bar windows as he stalked off up the street, a his gait swinging with a nonchalant swagger.

Sam shook his head, speaking into his communicator as he began walking quickly to follow.

"Hey, he's leaving the crowd, I'm gonna follow."

"I copy," Canton replied shortly, ending the communication.

Sam nodded grimly, focusing on his brother.

He followed at length from the other side of the street, walking two blocks in this manner, before pausing to jay-walk across as Dean darted away around the corner.

Sam grunted in frustration, speaking into his com, "He made a left. I'm following."

He raced around the corner, jogging to try to catch up so he wouldn't lose track. He jerked to the side at the last moment as a woman nose to her smartphone, sputtered at him as they nearly collided. He breathed a thoughtless apology, scrabbling around her to try to keep up.

He groaned under his breath as a clot of people poured out of a building, delaying him for several long moments as he craned his neck to try to watch past heads and shoulders.

People jostled by, the crowd thinning out as he made his way forward again. He paused, swearing as he realized he had lost him.

"Damn," he spat the words, making a face as he spoke into his comm "Do you have some sort of feed you can try to pull him up on? Because I can't see him—"

"Doctor?" Sam called into his communicator.

Silence.

"Canton?"

Nothing…

His forehead creased with concern, as he tried again.

"Canton? Do you copy?"

Error, error, a little voice sounded in his mind. Error, error….

"Ah, crap," Sam muttered, wondering. Where the hell are they?

"No …"

"Dean," Sam whispered to himself. "Where the hell are you," his brow creasing with a mixture of disgust, disappointment and pain. He turned, realizing that Canton was suddenly nearing him. Wait, he thought. Something's off….He's….his clothes...he's wearing the wrong clothes-

Canton came to stand beside him, laughing.

"Nice try, Moose."

"Oh, crap." He said, trying to move, but realized, panic mounting, that he couldn't.

"You're not Canton," he spat the words.

"No, Moose. I'm not. I'm the King of Hell, and as usual, you're none too bright." Crowley smiled arrogantly.

"Let me go," Sam said, voice shaking with rage.

"Or what? You'll call your alien friend? Shame, you can't get to your communicators, and besides, he's indisposed at the moment," Crowley replied mockingly.

Sam scowled silently, struggling ineffectually against the Crowley's powers, which were holding him in place, unable to move to resist in any meaningful way.

"No, I think you're coming with me. I'm not stupid, Moose. I know you've been tailing Dean. So I decided, it's about time to put a stop to this nonsense. Anyway, come along—" Crowley took a few steps back toward the corner, using his powers to compel Sam to follow. At first he tried to resist still, straining to stay put, to not move, but the invisible force of the telekinesis against his limbs felt as if it were going to crush his bones.

"Really, now, quit fighting. You understand I don't mind breaking your legs to make you move if I have to." Crowley prodded.

Groaning with effort, Sam relented, allowing the unseen force to make him follow Crowley.