Bobby watched, stunned, as Sam fell to the floor, curling into a ball and shaking uncontrollably.

"What the fuck is going on around here?" Moving to the other side of Dean's bed, he picked up the creature and put it back next to Dean, who's arm again, instinctively, drew it in close to his side. As before, the agitated dreaming stopped and he appeared calm.

Bending down to Sam, Bobby tried to rouse him out of whatever stupor he was in. Sam wasn't unconscious but seemed to be in a state of unrelieved terror. He was mumbling and Bobby leant in closer to try to make out the words.

"I can't, I can't. Don't make me!"

"It's okay Sam, you don't have to. C'mon now. Help me get you up. You big lunk."

"I can't do it!"

"Shh, Sammy, you're okay. You don't have to do anything."

It took a while but eventually Bobby coaxed Sammy up off the floor and got him over to his bed, where he curled up again, shivering violently, with his back turned to Dean and the creature.

Bobby stood looking at the two fallen Winchesters. What the hell happened? And what the hell was he going to do about it? He sat down and took a sip of coffee – it was cold. Grimacing, he put it down. Shit! What to do? This was all kinds of fucked up. Reluctantly he reached for his cell and searched for and found a number he really didn't want to call.

"Bobby!! What the hell are you calling me for this late at night?"

"Aw, come on Missouri! You know it has to be bad for me to call!"

"What – and that means I don't get to shout at you?"

"We really don't have time for the pleasantries…"

"Okay. What's up with those boys?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be calling would I?"

"Don't you raise your voice to me!"

Pausing to take a deep breath, Bobby tried again.

"Missouri, Dean is manifesting and has created some kind of creature. He's fading away right in front of me. And now, Sam has gone into some sort of catatonic state and I have no idea why. Got any suggestions?"

That shut Missouri up – for all of 10 seconds.

"Bobby, why'd you wait so long before calling me?"

"But….."

"Nevermind! Tell me everything you know."

After Bobby had recounted everything he had heard from Sam, he waited for Missouri to speak. The seconds stretched out in much the same way as his nerves, until he wasn't sure he could stand it. But finally Missouri was back on the line.

"I don't think it was just an ordinary poltergeist."

Bobby knew Missouri well enough to know she wasn't finished - he waited, glancing anxiously from Dean to Sam. Nothing had changed, which at this point, was probably a good thing.

"Bobby, you said Dean had a lump on his head?"

"Yeah, and when I touched it, it seemed to hurt. Well he reacted anyway. Why, what are you thinking?"

"Go look at it – don't touch it, just try to get a good look at it and tell me if you see anything unusual."

Bobby wasted no time and sitting on Dean's bed he very carefully rolled Dean over onto his side, avoiding moving the creature out of Dean's grasp. It was difficult to push the fine short hair away from the lump on the back of Dean's head, but eventually he spotted an angry-looking red spot. It looked like nothing so much as an insect bite. He described it to Missouri.

"Yeah, just as I thought. Now, you said Sam had fertiliser thrown at him?"

"That's what he said."

"I don't think it was fertiliser. You need to run him a bath and put holy water in it. Do whatever you have to do to get him in the bath and make sure he is totally submerged."

"You mean, like a baptism?"

"Something like that. He's been "infected" in a way. Bobby, when the boys are okay, you'all are gonna have to have a discussion with that guy from the hardware store."

"Why?"

"No time now Bobby. Get that bath sorted out and get Sam into it. He should be fine."

"What about Dean?"

"One thing at a time. Call me back when you're done." Missouri hung up.

Bobby ran the bath as instructed, pouring the contents of a silver hip flask into the water.

"That should do it."

Now, all he had to do was get a giant, shaking, mostly unresponsive Winchester into it.

He laid a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam flinched as if he'd been burned, and if it was possible, he seemed to curl up into an even tighter ball on the bed. There was no way on earth Bobby could manhandle the youngster.

"SAMUEL WINCHESTER! GET OFF THAT BED RIGHT NOW AND GET IN THE BATH!"

Bobby coughed, his throat felt a little sore, but he was relieved to see his barked orders being obeyed. Like an automaton, Sam got off the bed, still shivering as though he had a fever, and ambled towards the bathroom. Nothing would make him look towards his brother, as he passed the bed. He stepped into the bath, fully clothed. The water was warm, but still, his whole body shook as if he was lying in ice, and Bobby was a little nervous about trying to submerge his head.

But, there was no point thinking too much about it. Bobby leaned over the bath and placed firm hands on Sam's shoulders and pushed hard. With surprisingly little resistance, Sam's shoulders, neck and then head sank quickly beneath the surface. And then the thrashing started. Sam reacted violently and instantly, legs kicking and arms grabbing Bobby's. Bobby let him up. As Sam's head broke the surface, he opened his eyes and his mouth, dragging in air. He stared, wild-eyed, at Bobby.

"What the f…"

"Sammy! Are you okay son?"

"Wha… I… what the hell am I doing here?"

"C'mon, get up out of there, I'll explain once you get dried off."

Bobby left Sam to dry off, and called Missouri. She picked up immediately

"So, that worked. Now what about Dean?"

"Well, that's the easy part over. Good job Sammy's back with you. You're gonna need him."