Thanks so much to all who are reading and to my wonderful betas Maygin and Mizpah!

Evil, they were all evil. Sam could see it oozing from their pores, their skin glowed with it. He hated them. Dead, they needed to be dead, and he needed to make sure. Kill them, the evil inside them, kill them. Moving through the room, swaying slightly, Sam found them huddled in a corner. They weren't kidding anyone, he could tell, he knew. Lights flickered through the windows, confusing him. Flash, flash, flash, every few seconds light would blossom and fade only to be reborn again just as quickly. Confusion skipped through his head, for a moment he lowered the gun. The evil swarmed from them, coming at him. It was frightening. The room's swaying sped and decreased, making his stomach burn, anger, fear and nausea curled around one another, coiled into a hard knot lapping at his middle.

Where was Dean? Hearing his brother's voice, it was wrong, terribly wrong.

He had to stop the evil, there was only one way. The evil had to be stopped. He fired his gun again and again. It wasn't until it was over Sam realized the evil was him.

The room swayed in sickening waves, the lights flashed faster.

Dean shoved him back, against a wall. Sam wasn't even sure when he'd arrived. Dean's gun trained on Sam. Angry, Dean was angry to the extent Sam had never witnessed, not directed at him anyway. Dean was never this angry with him. Dean hated him, wanted him gone, wanted to be free of the burden of his kid brother. Dean's words bore into him hot and vile. Sam never felt so scared or lost in his life. Gone, his brother was right in front of him and gone all at the same time. Cast out, alone and despised Sam's world was crashing down around him, and he was powerless to stop it. Dean pressed one hand to Sam's neck, the other held the gun. The gun against Sam's forehead. Dean fired and Sam's world went black.

Dean hates me, Dean hates me, Dean hates me. The words followed Sam out of his vision. He lurched away from the hands holding him with such force he knocked the chair Dean must have sat him in over. Immediately wishing he'd not broken the contact, wanting it back more desperately than anything he'd wanted in his young life Sam pushed away the panic and abandonment worming through his chest. Still not able to see well from the pain and haze left from his vision he reached out and grabbed. It was the first time in his life he'd doubted there'd be someone…Dean… to grab onto.

"Sammy, slow it down." Dean's gentle tone, familiar and comforting, calling him 'Sammy' eased his fears. "It's ok Sammy, just a vision, nothing more." Dean's hand rested on top of his head. His offhand remark about 'just a vision' made Sam smile. How long ago did his visions become commonplace enough to be something referred to as just?

It'd been so long since Sam had a vision the agony they produced, the queasiness, feeling of helplessness, being so out of control had faded to the background of his memory. This vision brought all that roaring back full force. Wiping a shaking hand over his face Sam blinked, his eyesight cleared more. The world spun wildly out of control when Dean's hands vanished, Sam felt movement of air, the heat from Dean's body receding as he moved away.

Going away, going away, leaving, Dean's leaving, hates me, hates me, wasn't Dean.

Staggering to his feet, no idea where he was going other than to find his brother Sam took a few steps and promptly fell over the chair. Valkyrie licked at his face, he made out a blurred image of her tentatively wagging tail.

"Saa-uum!" Dean's voice was harsher, but not overly so. More from fear and annoyance than anger Sam knew instantly.

Sam felt his brother's movements in the room, heard him getting closer. Cracking his eyes open he caught sight of Dean's face as he grabbed Sam's arms, hauled him to his feet, swung him around and planted him on the edge of the closest bed. Dean's features were caring, edged with concern and maybe a bit of surprise.

"Hey, come on, you know better." Dean spoke in a low voice, as he always did when Sam was coming out of one of the more intense visions. They'd found out the hard way how easily Sam was startled until completely free of the after affects of his visions. Sam learned to sit still and Dean learned to use a quiet voice and keep his movements calm and slow. Dean had rules about the visions too, and number one was stay put. Sam usually obliged, quite happy to let Dean take care of him until he regained his senses. "You're gonna hurt yourself." Dean sounded a bit grouchy on top of worried.

Dean pressed a bottle of water into Sam's palm, crouching in front of him Dean's free hand curved around the back of Sam's head. As soon as Sam's fingers held the bottle Dean released it, settling that hand on Sam's shoulder. "Take it slow Sammy."

Sam's shaking made it difficult to drink. He managed a few gulps before setting the bottle on the floor. Dean waited patiently, quietly. That patience wouldn't last forever. In a few minutes Dean would be asking for details, wanting to know Sam was ok, wanting Sam to talk to him. Thing was Sam wanted to tell Dean everything, he always did, even on days Dean shut him down and out. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. But he sure as hell knew one thing, he needed to sort this out, needed Dean's help to do it and that meant finding the words.

"Kil-killed them. I killed them." Sam stammered.

Dean's fingers tightened on his shoulder, "Hey, take it easy Sam."

Sam figured he must look like hell for Dean to keep telling him to slow down, the stuttering probably wasn't so impressive either. Dean was usually pretty anxious to get details about Sam's visions, just as he was with Sam's dreams. Sam didn't want to slow down or take it easy, he wanted to get through this. Wanted Dean to know. Shaking his head venomously, bangs flopping all over, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's, "It was me. ME. I killed them." Running one hand through his hair, he forged ahead. "I was in some kind of room. I didn't see anything to give me a clue about where it was, or anything. But there were people, kids Dean, little kids," Sam's voice cracked. Dean silently handed him the water again. Taking another swallow, Sam went on. "I shot them, I executed them. And I didn't care." His face was wet, he wiped his hand over his cheeks, trying to stop the tears.

"Sam," Dean said softly, "You've got a dead serial killer messing with your head. I've known you your entire life so believe me when I say you wouldn't shoot anyone, least of all kids."

"I've never had visions that weren't anything to do with anything but the demon." Voice raising Sam pleaded with his brother for understanding. "I killed them Dean. Then you killed me, you shot me in the head, you hated me and shot me in the head, point blank."

Dean sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Sammy, I've never hated you, I never will, or could hate you, no matter what you did."

"But I—"

"Could you ever hate me Sam?"

"No, of course not, that's stupid."

Merely raising his eyebrows slightly Dean shrugged a bit.

"All right, I get the point."

"Are you sure these kids were just regular kids and not some kind of demon spawn?"

"I'm not sure. I think they were regular kids." He met Dean's eyes for another brief second before staring at the floor. "You wouldn't let me hurt kids?"

"Sammy it's a moot point, since you wouldn't. And no. I really think this is more from Redding and McCreedy. They're messing with you, with both of us. They've got you so turned around you can't even think straight."

"I'm not so sure it's that simple."

"I am Sam. Stay focused on what's real, and stop worrying about what you know isn't. You know you won't hurt anyone, kill kids, and you know I'd never even be capable of conceiving of hating you. Your visions don't always show you everything, and they don't always make sense, and they don't always happen how you see them. So if that was a real vision, it was distorted is all."

Sam could only stare at the floor, thinking Dean didn't hate him, hadn't shot him and maybe, just maybe Dean was right.

Alternating between watching the road and watching Sam stare out the window Dean drove to the piece of land the McCreedy house once stood on. They'd been there once before, a few days after Sam had been freed, not staying long and hadn't been looking for anything specific at the time. Going there started the healing for them both, but there'd been a price for that too. Sam trusted Dean enough then to go with him, see the burnt remains of the house and his prison. There'd been a few sleepless nights for the brothers in the week following, Sam's nightmares about the whole thing being ramped up from his return to the property. Fortunately they'd dropped off quickly, and in the long run returning to the place proved to be the right move.

Dean was starting to doubt Sam trusted him enough to do this again. If Sam didn't trust him Dean figured he might as well pack it in now. Losing Sam's trust meant losing Sam. Dean couldn't live with that, not now, not ever.

"Sam…"

"'M fine." Came Sam's curt reply.

"I could go by myself, take you back to the motel."

"No." Sam snapped, fist thumping the car door for emphasis.

Six months ago Sam spent days on end barely saying two consecutive words to Dean or anyone. Now it was like that time all over again. Dean hated it more now than he did then. He'd missed his brother terribly those first few weeks, had really only in the last month or two gotten him back and wasn't about to let him go again. He truly feared if Sam sank into those depths again it would be forever this time, there'd be no recovery, no getting him back.

Hearing Sam's breathing growing harsh, even separated by a foot or so of space in the car Dean felt his brother tense when he turned the Impala down the road the McCreedys and Redding had lived on. Eyes sliding to Sam for as long as he dared take them off the road Dean's chest clenched. Sam paled, one arm rested on the car door, fist clenching and unclenching. His jaw was so tightly shut Dean wondered if Sam's teeth would crack. It certainly had to hurt. Deciding trying to lighten the mood might just get him a face full of Sam's fist Dean kept quiet.

When Dean turned the car down the drive Sam squeezed his eyes shut. The first time they'd returned here they'd had to park farther down the road, duck police tape and keep an eye out for authorities. This day it looked like any other patch of land. Well almost. The place sent shivers coursing up and down Dean's spine, the sight was unnerving. Maybe bringing Sam here wasn't such a great idea.

The remains of the house, and the contents of the basement, including the cages, had been plowed over. Now there remained a slight bulge in the ground where the building once stood. The entire parcel of land to the obvious property line of trees and fencing was barren. Patches of mud from the spring rains dotted the area, grooves scarred the ground from the equipment used to bulldoze the remains and level the land. Dean had no trouble seeing where the house had been, it was almost as if the slight bulge in the terrain was a grave site. Trees and shrubs within the property line were dead, no buds popping out as they were on the trees farther away, off the property. These were nothing but spiky skeletons reaching up. No bits of grass peeked through the damp ground. There weren't even weeds.

Eyes shifting to Sam, Dean was disappointed to see his brother gazing out at the landscape, apparently having the same thoughts about it Dean did. Every muscle along Sam's neck and shoulders were rigid, he trembled slightly from the strain. Reaching out Dean laid one hand lightly on Sam's shoulder. Jumping at the touch, Sam looked over at him as if just remembering Dean was there with him.

"Sam…" He had no idea what he wanted to say.

"No. It's….lets just do this." Opening his door, Sam shoved out of the car before Dean cut the engine. By the time he was out Sam was waiting at his door.

The hand Dean rested on Sam's shoulder was shrugged off with a small, tentative twist of Sam's torso. Dean ignored it. Walking toward the bulge he was completely aware Sam walked close enough to keep his arm constantly brushing against Dean's side. He was grateful that at least Sam's flinching every time Dean moved too quickly had all but disappeared. Valkyrie followed them, walking subdued, tail down, ears and head dipped. She looked like she was sulking. The dog never walked anywhere. She pranced, trotted or galloped. Dean realized this might have honestly been the first time he'd seen her this lacking in animation.

"Sort of explains a lot." Dean commented, stopping next to the bulge, scanning the area.

"Yeah." Sam's voice was rough, raw. "It's a bit—"

"Creepy." Dean finished. That earned him a small smile from his brother and a hearty enough nod Sam's bangs flopped around for a second before resettling. "Let's take a look around, see if we can find anything and get the hell gone." Pointing to the far side of the bulge, "I'll look over there, you poke around on this side." Taking a few steps Dean felt Sam keep up with him. Glancing over his shoulder, the look from Sam meeting him made him shrug one shoulder. "Or we could just stick together."

Sam snorted, but relaxed some.

There wasn't much to find. Dean toed the dirt in a few places, kicking up nothing but common household items, or rocks. "Do we even have a clue what to look for?"

"No. But Dean, there has to be something here. I couldn't find anything specific on the land, but three generations of unrelated people all with homicidal, psychotic tendencies, and living on the same chunk of land. That's a bit much."

"Yeah, it is." Twisting when he heard whimpering from Valkyrie, Dean slouched for a few seconds then heaved a sigh. "She did that when we where here before."

"Brandon's cage was there." Sam's voice was so soft if Dean hadn't been right next to him he'd have never heard, or seen his brother's very liquid eyes.

"I'll get her." Hand against Sam's shoulder that wasn't shrugged off this time, Dean pressed him back a step. "Stay here."

Valkyrie lay on the ground, tail in a straight line behind her, whimpering softly. Covering the distance with quick strides, and a few glances back to be sure Sam was ok, Dean reached down, scooped the small dog up and headed back to his brother. Sam had wandered away a few steps, eyes focused on the ground, kicking at the dirt. He turned to Dean, one hand rose in the air to waist height and dropped, banging off his leg. Dean was about to suggest they leave, they were accomplishing nothing here. The scary place it had once been wasn't so scary, but it was still difficult to be here, and he'd admit to himself only still traumatic. They needed to face these things, not be overrun by them.

Without warning Sam ducked his head, staggering back a few steps, the palm of one hand pressed to his forehead. He gasped, groaned then cried out from sharp pain Dean saw all over his brother's face, in the tenseness of his shoulders, his entire body language. Sam dropped to his knees.

"Shit." Dean sprinted at him, got the dog down just in time to grab Sam's shoulders and stop him from heading face first into the dirt. Pulling in harsh, ragged breaths Sam's fingers found Dean's jacket, fisting into the soft leather. Sam couldn't see anything but the vision Dean knew, but it never ceased to amaze him how the kid seemed to have some sort of radar or homing instinct that always allowed him to find and latch onto Dean. Moving Sam back and away to drier ground Dean sat in front of him, steadying the kid until it was over. This one didn't last as long as the previous vision had been, but from Dean's perspective seemed twice as intense.

Sam came out of it slowly, Dean hated when he took his sweet old time, didn't the boy realize how freaking nerve-wracking these things were for Valkyrie, and Dean? Straightening, but still leaning heavily against Dean's hands Sam gulped in air, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's. Heart nearly cracking in two from the expression Sam wore, the kid looked absolutely tortured.

"Same. It was the same thing." Sam stumble over the words, his voice quavering, he jostled Dean's jacket with both hands. "Dean, it was the same thing."

Letting go Sam's shoulder and curling fingers around the back of Sam's head Dean had to make a real effort to not scream in frustration. "Sammy, you're not going to do those things, you're just not. It's not something you're even capable of, it's not in you. It's them, they're squirreling around in your head and doing this to you. Believe me, please." Dean kept his voice low, but the sheer intensity he put behind his words made Sam nod, his expression soften.

They sat quietly for another few minutes while Sam caught his breath, got his bearings back. Shoving off the ground, Dean bent to brush off his jeans catching sight of something odd. "What's that?" He pointed to a spot on the ground not a foot from his brother.

Twisting to look, Sam's gaze lifted, meeting his. "Maybe what we were looking for?"

Embedded in the dirt, at what would have been the corner of the house was a square foot or so slab of rock. A symbol carved into it. The etching was a circle, with smaller symbols placed at regular intervals and something resembling a Celtic knot in its center. "What do you suppose it's for?"

Sam shook his head slowly, "Maybe some sort of binding? I've never seen those combinations used before."

"Holding something out?" Dean pulled out his knife, worked its tip around the stone's edge.

"Or trapping something in?" Sam looked up at him, grasping Dean's wrist.

Yanking his cell phone out, flipping it open, "Good point." Dean took a few pictures of the thing from several angles, leaving it in the ground. Back next to Sam a minute later, Dean slid one arm around his brother's middle and hefted him to his feet. They headed back to the car.

"At least now we have something to investigate." Sam said softly, settling in the car, looking at Dean as he slid in behind the wheel.

"Yep. Let's get back, we can still get some library time in I think."

"Ok."

They drove in relative, but comfortable silence. Sam was more relaxed despite the visions he'd had. Stopping for a train, it was long and slow, Dean cut the car's engine. Sitting there, watching the thing lumber along, thinking if it were any slower it would be going backwards, he was startled by Sam grabbing his arm.

"Did you see that?"

Not getting the chance to answer Dean was doubly surprised when Sam dug in the glove box for his pistol, flung open the car door, jumped out and headed for the train. "Sam? What the hell?" Dean leaned out his window.

"You didn't see that?" Sam shouted, waving at the passing train. "It was right there, it got on the train."

"Sam, there isn't anything there, now get….God Damn!"

Grabbing some rail on the train, Sam swung up and disappeared into the car. Dean barely had time to process that before he saw the faces of children in the windows of one of the cars, many, many children. Flashing lights. Swaying rooms. Dragging his own gun out, and as an after thought grabbed his US Marshall I.D. Dean started the car, swung it off the road and into the woods far enough he hoped no one would see. Rolling down one back window far enough that Valkyrie could get out if they didn't come back, "Watch the car chicky." He ran at the train, found a handhold and swung up and on.

Slipping inside the first door, he found the occupants in utter pandemonium. Bolting through, holding up the badge and shouting "Federal Marshall, everyone down." Dean headed through the crowd that split for him to the front of the car. From the next car he heard screaming children, a shouting deep male voice….Sam's…and then gunfire. It clicked, the whole thing clicked into place in Dean's head. What Redding and McCreedy had been up to this entire time all fell into a neat little plan as simple as can be. Problem was until now neither he nor Sam had suspected what was going on. He was absolutely sure Sam didn't.

Racing through to the next car, when he burst through the door, again shouting orders for everyone to get down, he was met with the sight of Sam's gun swung at him. Kids, maybe a few dozen around the ages of eight or ten, with a few adults wisely took his advice. Huddling in a far corner of the car, wedged between the seats, and trying to get under them were some very frightened children. Taking a quick scan, Dean didn't see blood, or bodies, and they all seemed to be moving, yelling, crying, he snatched hold of the first adult he found. "Get them back and out of here." Swinging his own gun up, aiming at Sam, "Sammy, put the gun down!" Dean hissed out the words in as low and calm a voice as he could.

"Can't you see it?" Sam screamed at him, firing high, over everyone's heads bringing a round of shrieks from behind Dean.

"Sam there isn't anything there."

"It's right behind you." Sheer panic was all Dean saw in his brother's face, eyes. "In them, is them. Get away." Light from outside flashed through the windows keeping time with the train's progress to wherever.

"Sammy I mean it. Give me the gun. Nothing is going to get me, nothing is behind me, just kids."

Shaking his head, not trying to brush away tears welling up to slip down his cheeks, Sam leveled the gun at the group huddled in the corner.

Moving quick so he was between Sam and the kids, Dean held out one hand, "Sammy, don't make me do this."

"It's there, right there." Sam pointed with one hand to some point above Dean's shoulder, pistol still raised in the other hand.

Shifting his footing so Dean was out of his aim, Sam took hold of the pistol with both hands, preparing to fire. Dean had no idea what Sam thought he saw, but he wasn't going to be convinced it wasn't there. The car swayed, speeding up briefly, then slowing down again, dipping to the right ever so gently.

"SAM!" Dean barked loud and demanding. Sam's eyes shifted for the briefest second to him.

Dean fired.