A/N: I can't thank you enough for the wonderful response I'm getting to this story. I'm speechless with gratitude, and it's released a bunch of new plot bunnies in my head. As always, a huge, heartfelt thank you to my beta MuffyMorrigan whose help and encouragement has made my writing so much better.

Hitting Walls and Getting Scars

Chapter 3

Present

Dean watched Sam grow silent at the memory of his absolute terror that day. During Sam's tale he'd sat down on the bed facing his brother. As Sam's words seeped into his mind, he felt himself pale as he remembered his own terror when he saw the shapeshifter strangling his brother, fearing that he might have been too late.

Not to mention seeing you in that burning room with Jessica on the ceiling… Or crumbling in front of that mirror, blood pouring from your eyes… Oh God, Sam, trust me, I know how you felt. I feel it every single time those things lay a hand on you. Every single time, Sam. To be honest, those years were pure hell, not knowing what you were doing, whether you were safe. And, if that scar is anything to go by, you weren't…

'You must've thought… you thought that was me and Dad! Oh, God, Sammy!' Dean exclaimed when Sam finished.

Sam looked up at him and nodded. 'I was so terrified that I didn't even realise when I stepped into that waiting room that the man sitting there with two police officers was one of the burglars. I just thought Dad had gone out or had been called to your room or something like that. It wasn't until I heard them mention that place that I realised…' his voice broke slightly. 'I realised that it wasn't you, that you were safe. I was so relieved, I just dropped into the nearest chair, then started laughing. You should have seen their faces!' he continued with a slight tremulous smile.

Yeah, Sammy, know that feeling too. All too well, in fact.

Trying to steer the conversation in a direction that he was more comfortable with, Dean hit on the one part of Sam's story that would enable him to strike out at someone.

'Anyway, what did that Zach dude say? 'No sympathy for people sneaking through other people's stuff?' Seriously, is that the guy I just risked my ass for? If I'd known…'

Sam looked at him questioningly. 'You'd what? Let him be convicted of something he didn't do? And Zach's not that bad. In fact, you should be grateful, if it wasn't for him…' Sam stopped abruptly, realising that he'd said too much, that Dean was sure to pick up on what he'd said.

'Grateful? To him? And why is that, Sam? Because I sure as hell don't feel grateful for him getting my face plastered all over St. Louis. But I don't think that's what you mean either, Sam. Is it?'

Sam looked at his hand, at the now-empty cup being squashed between them. He kept quiet.

Na-ah, Sam. Not going to work this time. You're talking. I want to know what happened.

'Sam.'

Sam didn't react.

'Sam!' Dean's voice grew more insistent, his curiosity increased by Sam's stubborn silence. Yep, that's it, I'm just curious. That's all there is to it.

When Sam still didn't react, Dean rose and suddenly ripped the remains of the coffee cup from Sam's hands. 'Dude! Enough of the stonewalling. Talk to me, man. It's clear that something's going on in that freaky head of yours, something to do with that scar, something to do with…' He broke off suddenly when he realised what he'd said. Could it be? What he told me – that was just before…'…something to do with that hunt…? But you weren't…' Dean's voice was suddenly hesitant, almost fearful. That hunt… I knew something happened. I didn't manage to…Oh my God, Sam. Tell me you weren't there that night! Tell me you didn't see…

Sam finally looked at him, guilt in his eyes. 'Yes, Dean, I was. I was there, I saw it, and I was too slow to stop it, I couldn't stop it, and then you… and Dad… I couldn't stop it, if only I'd been there with you, but I wasn't, and you both got hurt… God, Dean, what it did to you, all that blood, you almost died...'

'Sam, you're not making any sense. You say that you were there, but then you say you weren't?'

'I was there, Dean. I wasn't where I should have been, but I was there.'

He turned his eyes back to his now-empty hands and resumed his story.

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Past

Near Palo Alto

After his laughing fit in the waiting room had passed (the police officers looking at him in a rather odd manner, as if determining whether he'd wandered off from the psych ward or something like that), Sam calmed down and started listening inconspicuously to what the rather crazed burglar was telling the police officers. They soon gave the burglar the same look that they'd spared Sam only moments earlier, and Sam didn't blame them; to anyone but a hunter, the man's story sounded like an acid trip.

'I swear, I'm telling the truth! I don't know what that thing was, but one minute Josh was standing next to me, and the text he's hanging beneath the ceiling, screaming his head off in terror. And I saw that figure standing beneath him, looking up at him, cackling in glee… And then it turned around and looked at me, gave me this sort of wink, and vanished. And… and that's when Josh fell.. Oh, God, I saw him fall, heard him hit the ground, and I couldn't do anything…' The man hid his face in his hands. 'I couldn't do anything,' he repeated, his voice broken.

The younger of the police officers looked at the other, slowly shaking his head.

Think what you like, what he's told you sounds very plausible when dealing with an angry spiritSam thought as he slowly rose and left the room. Just as he walked out the door, he saw a doctor heading for the waiting room, seemingly struggling to find the right degree of compassion for the man inside, who was clearly about to get some very bad news. Sam felt for the man, remembering his own panic only minutes before.

He walked out of the hospital and, now remembering his money clip in his back pocket, jumped on board the first bus headed back towards Stanford.

Thank God it wasn't them. I'm not sure I could've taken that. Have I made the right decision? Should I have stayed with them instead of following my dream coming here? But I couldn't… I just couldn't. It was tearing me up inside, the hunts, the victims, the bereaved. And that fear. Oh, God, that fear. I couldn't – I CAN'T – live with it anymore, that terrible, horrible, paralysing fear that I might one day cause them injury – maybe even cause their death – because of my inability to do the job properly.

No, I made the right decision. At least here, I can feel safe, I know I'm good at what I do here, I'm free of that fear of failure. So what if they don't understand? I'm doing what I want to do, so why should I care what they think? I know I can never gain their respect anyway – I'm not like them – so why shouldn't I just stay gone and spare them from having to look at the failure that they brought up?

But oh, God, how can I do that - it seems that the fear haunts me even now – can I go through with this, not knowing where they are, whether they're alright? But it's better than being there in the middle of it. I can't do that anymore. I can't.

He suddenly realised that the bus was drawing close to Stanford. He got out at his stop, but what he felt when he walked back towards his dorm in the midday sun wasn't welcome or safety but rather a profound sense of loss.

Sam spent the rest of the afternoon buried in his homework, trying to drive thoughts of Dean and John and the hurtful words he'd overheard out of his head.

Later that night, he met with some of his new friends at a local café. Letting most of their conversation flow over him, not yet feeling confident enough to voice his own opinions on their discussions of politics or family matters, his attention was suddenly caught by the conversation between two female students at the table next to where he was sitting with Zach and Becky.

'I'm telling you, that was the hottest cop I've ever met! He gave me this smile…' one of them, a tall blonde, giggled.

'Don't get your hopes up, Kathy, he's been giving every other female student that treatment, I hear, and asking a bunch of weirdo questions on top,' her friend said.

'But how many did he ask for their phone number?' Kathy said, sounding a bit miffed.

Sorry, Kathy, my guess would be all of them.

'With those looks probably more than one, Kath,' a boy of about Sam's age said, sitting down beside the two girls. 'Anyway, from what I hear, those cops are barking up the wrong tree. Or, rather, they don't know which tree they should bark up.'

'And what exactly do you mean by that, Jeff?' Kathy said, pouting at his comment about the hot cop whose questioning she'd rather enjoyed earlier that afternoon.

'Well, I guess you all read that article – they have no idea how those people ended up being dropped from that ceiling – and they have no idea how to figure it out,' Jeff said.

'Well, officer Harrison seemed to think it might be some sort of stealthy serial killer or something, at least he asked me if we'd heard about something like this happening before. I told him I hadn't heard anything,' Kathy said, sounding mildly disappointed that she hadn't had any interesting information that might have enabled her to prolong her interview with 'officer Harrison'.

Jeff laughed condescendingly. 'Serial killer, my ass. I tell you, if they knew what they were up against, they'd be hightailing it out of here before you could even say serial killer.'

Sam, who had had immense difficulty hiding his grin while hearing how the girl called Kathy had clearly fallen under Dean's spell I wonder how he manages to do that over and over again? now froze in his seat, his attention wholly directed at the boy's words.

'And what exactly are they up against?' Kathy asked.

'A ghost, that's what! And a bloodthirsty one at that!' Jeff said dramatically.

It was Kathy's turn to laugh condescendingly. 'A ghost?'

'Yes, a ghost. I know it from a very reliable source.'

'Oh, yeah?' Kathy's friend laughed. 'Why don't you tell us what your oh-so-reliable source has told you?'

'Well… Promise you won't tell anyone else? I don't want this spreading all over campus, and I especially don't want those cops to know,' Jeff said, lowering his voice.

Sam innocently leaned back in his chair to be able to continue hearing what Jeff told the two girls who nodded their agreement to Jeff's terms.

Wonder what he knows – and it sounds like he hasn't told anyone, which means that Dean and Dad may not know this…

'See, I overheard my father talking to one of his friends today, and apparently there was some controversy about that Murphy guy's purchase of the Heidegger place. My dad's friend's brother-in-law apparently made a higher bid for the place, but the prior owners accepted Murphy's bid – probably got a healthy amount of money outside the official deal, if you catch my drift. Anyways, my dad's friend's brother-in-law is mightily pissed at this, and having certain connections and knowledge, he figures out a way to get back at Murphy,' Jeff paused for dramatic effect, basking in the attention from the two girls.

Oh God, I know what comes next. When will people ever learn?

'So, he and his friends go out to the Heidegger place one day, finds the spot where the original owner was buried – incidentally, he died in a working accident during the actual building of the place – make some kind of summoning ritual to call the man's spirit to them, binds it to some kind of amulet and bids it to go kill the new owner. And you know how that turned out!'

The two girls looked at him incredulously, then Kathy started to giggle. 'Wow, Jeff, that's a good one, almost had me fooled! Ghost? Summoning? Amulet? You've got to be kidding me. We're not 10 years old, you know.'

'You don't believe me? Then how would you explain that guy dying in the exact same manner yesterday evening, huh? That was what really worried the guy my dad's friend told him about. See, apparently they thought that the ghost would return to its grave or whatever, nice and easy, after having killed that guy for them. So they left after seeing the guy dead, throwing the amulet into the forest near the house, thinking it was a job well done. Only, as you know, it wasn't, since apparently the ghost did a repeat performance last night,' Jeff said, annoyed that the girls didn't believe him. 'That was actually what that guy had started to worry about – he thought it'd be over, but now it seems the ghost just keeps on killing people going into that house at night. And he had no clue how they could even stop it, because they didn't have the amulet anymore.'

Kathy looked at him. 'You really believe this, don't you?' she said incredulously.

Yes, he does, and so should you. But of course you don't. People never do until it's too late.

'Didn't you hear what I just said? They summoned that thing! It's real, they saw it! And I know my dad's friend, he's not one to tell a lie,' Jeff said, clearly offended. 'You know, if you don't believe me, why don't you come with me out there tomorrow evening? Then you may get to see it yourself. Only I'm so not going with you in there, I don't want to end up a pancake on the floor.'

When will people ever learn?

The two girls looked at each other, then at Jeff. 'Deal!' Kathy said. 'We'll go with you, and if this ghost doesn't show, you're going to do whatever we want you to do during the next dorm party!'

'Deal! But I'm warning you, you may not even be here for the next dorm party!' Jeff said with a satisfied grin, then he rose from his chair and left the café.

Tomorrow evening… They'll probably be safe by then, since if Dean and Dad have been researching today, they'll be bound to go to the house tonight and take care of the spirit.

Then the full impact of Jeff's words hit him, and he rose quickly from his seat, almost spilling his coke in the process.

Oh my God! They probably won't know about the amulet! Salting and burning the bones won't be enough to stop it! If they think… They won't be prepared. I have to warn them… No matter what, I have to warn them.

'Sorry, have to go – something I forgot,' he managed to stutter, noting Zach and Becky's surprised looks at his sudden departure, then he walked quickly out the door.

Once outside the café, he pulled out his phone with a trembling hand.

Now what do I say? Hey, Dean, just wanted to warn you, this ghost you're hunting, it's been summoned, so you have to find an amulet in the woods to get rid of it? Oh, and I hope you're alright. And don't worry, I'll stay away from you? Somehow that doesn't sound right. Hey, Dean, I heard you were hunting this ghost…No. I just wanted to let you know I heard about this hunt…No. I just wanted to warn you this ghost...

He scrolled through the numbers in his phone, pausing at John's cell phone number.

Or how about Hey, Dad, sorry I walked out on you (well, not really), but listen, I just heard someone talking about this ghost you're hunting – how do I know that you're hunting it? Doesn't matter, listen… Dad, listen! Nope, not going to work either.

He closed his eyes in despair, trying to figure out a way to tell them about the amulet without getting into the hurtful issues standing between them like a solid wall, rendering them unable to see let alone reach each other. Finally, not finding any easy solution and feeling that time was running out, he opened his phone and speed dialled Dean's number, holding his breath as he heard it ringing. Please, Dean, pick it up. I know you don't want to talk to me, but this is important. Pick it up, goddammit! And ringing. And ringing.

Finally, Dean's voice mail picked up. 'This is Dean Winchester, if this is an emergency…' Sam froze, surprised by the pain he felt at hearing his brother's voice. When he realised that Dean's message had ended, he haltingly said, 'Hey, Dean, it's me… It's Sam. Listen… I, er… I have information about your hunt. It's important. Call me, ok?' The words rushed out of him before he quickly hung up, staring at his phone, willing Dean to call him back, hoping he would, hoping he wouldn't.

Then he tried his father number, no luck either. They're probably already at the house, too busy to pick up. Or maybe they've turned the sound off, not wanting to alert the spirit to their presence. Dammit! I have to warn them! And if they aren't there yet, I have to take care of that spirit myself – I can't allow those girls to go there tomorrow night with that Jeff guy, they might end up getting themselves killed. I just can't allow that. DAMMIT, I thought I was done with all this!

He tried both their numbers several more times, then gave up. He stood for a minute looking blankly out over the parking lot, thoughts racing through his mind.

I have to do this, if I can't get hold of them. But hunting this thing on my own…Never a good plan in the first place. But I have no other option. Thank God I took some salt with me when I left… But how am I going to find that amulet? I don't even know what it looks like, and it's going to be pitch black out there when I get there… And how am I even going to get there?

Finally finding a problem that he could do something about, he went back into the café and asked Zach if he could borrow his car once again.

'Sure,' Zach said. 'Sam… Are you ok?' He looked at Sam with worry in his eyes.

Sam nodded, trying to reassure his friend. 'Yes, yes. Just remembered that I'd forgotten something important. Something very important.' He gave Zach his best reassuring smile, not realising that it was very clear to his friends that something was seriously wrong.

Zach and Becky looked at each other, then Zach shrugged and handed Sam his keys. Sam nodded his thanks, then quickly left again, almost running across the parking lot to the car. Once there, he slipped into the front seat, took a deep breath and then set off for the Heidegger residence, only taking a small detour to pick up some things from his dorm room.

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Present

Dean had grown absolutely still listening to Sam's story. His brother still wouldn't meet his eyes but kept staring at his own hands, at the table, at anything but Dean, but his downcast eyes weren't enough to hide the myriad of emotions that crossed his face and were audible in his voice during his story.

God, Sam… If only you knew how much I missed you… You know, I interviewed all those people that day, but the only question I really wanted to ask them was whether they knew you or had maybe seen you... And everywhere I went, I was hoping I'd see you. I even thought I saw you once or twice, but it turned out I was wrong. Hang on… what was that? You tried to call me? I never got that message… Oh my God, Sam, you must've thought… My phone was smashed that night when I… when that ghost… Oh God, Sam, please tell me you weren't there, please tell me you didn't see that.

Fearing the answer to his silent plea, Dean didn't dare ask the question aloud but rather pounced upon the fact that Sam had called him that night.

'You called me? You called Dad? Even though… in spite of you thinking that… that we didn't want to see you?'

'How could I not, Dean? I knew you probably didn't have access to that information and that it might give the ghost an advantage over you.'

'Yeah, you can say that again,' Dean said, unconsciously rubbing his side where an old scar suddenly seemed to itch. Realising what he was doing, he quickly took away his hand and tried steering the conversation away from that particular topic.

'But, Sam, I never got that message… You must've thought that I didn't want to… But I never got it, Sam, believe me!' He looked into Sam's eyes, silently begging him to believe him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw awakening hope there as Sam's eyes widened slightly.

'You didn't?' Sam's voice was incredulous.

'No, I didn't. Otherwise I would've called you back at once! I lost my phone that night and didn't get the chance to go back and find it again,' not to mention the fact that I would've never been able to fit all the pieces back together again, much less make it work. No reason to tell Sam that, maybe he doesn't know how bad that salt and burn really went. And he doesn't need to know. But what if he already knows? What did he see? I hope he didn't see me… But I don't really believe that; from what he has told me, it seems rather probable that he knows what went on that night. Oh my God… what if… what if it was really Sam that I saw? That I FELT that night?

'You lost your phone?' Sam said, uncertainly still evident in his voice.

'Yes, I did. And can you believe how many new phone numbers I had in that thing??? Aaargh!'

Sam smiled at that, shaking his head slightly. Mission accomplished. Then he frowned and looked at Dean again. 'But when was that? When did you lose it?'

Uh oh. You just had to ask that question, didn't you, Sammy? You never could leave things alone, could you? How much do you know? How much can I tell you? Because if you don't know, then trust me, you don't want to know.

'Well, as you apparently know, there was this haunted house that we had to take care of. Dad and I figured it was a simple salt and burn, so we went out to the house that night,' Dean said.

'Simple salt and burn? I do believe it was you who once told me that there is no such thing,' Sam replied, daring to meet Dean's eyes and flash him a quick smile.

'Yes, well, it does happen once in a while, you know… Not our fault that we didn't have access to the college-boy network back then, students are apparently even less talkative than a mouse hiding from a hungry cat when they want to. Wouldn't have thought information like that would stay hidden for long, especially not with the way I was working my magic with those co-eds…' Dean grew silent as he saw the look of guilt and pain that flashed across Sam's face at his words. 'Oh, God, Sam, no, NO, I didn't mean… Sam, you tried to warn us, even though you thought… Sam, this was not your fault, ok?'

When Sam replied, his voice was so low that Dean almost didn't catch his words.

'Yes, it was.'

'What was that?' Dean asked.

'Yes, it was my fault, Dean. I should've gotten there quicker, I should've… But I hesitated, and I almost got you and Dad killed, Dean.'

What is he talking about? Getting us killed? Sammy? What are you talking about? What more do you have to tell, what have you kept hidden from me?

'What do you mean, you almost got us killed? You tried to warn us, it wasn't your fault that we hadn't gotten all the info on that maniacal ghost making human pancakes. How can it ever be your fault that the evil sucker got the drop on us?'

Sam's only answer was to look into Dean's eyes, his eyes filled with pain and guilt and a fear so tangible that it almost took Dean's breath away. And it dawned on him, the thought that he'd tried to deny for several minutes. It struck him like a punch to the stomach, hard, driving the air from him, sending a tremble from the very core of his body to the tip of his fingers. He was really there! He was the one I saw, I wasn't hallucinating. He… he was the one who saved my life that night, not Dad. He saw me like that…Oh, God, Sammy…

Before Dean could say another word, Sam took a deep breath and continued his story.

To be continued