A/N: Have a few very, very special people to thank lately. Vonnie, you are incredible. Supernaturalsammy67, Sammygirl1963, Skag Trendy, Soncnica, and of course, my very best friend, my sis, Blue Peanut. You guys have been in my corner, supporting me so much it's like you're right here in the room with me and my husband. The rest of this fic is for you girls! So, enjoy the read my friends.

Chapter 3

"AARAAHH!" Sam bellowed, sharp sounding and scared as he sat up on the bed. Dean dropped the duffel with a heavy thunk and went to the bed, gripping Sam's heaving shoulders.

"Easy Sammy. Just a dream. You're safe. You're alright."

"D-" Sam croaked as terrified eyes finally lit on his brother. Sam swallowed thickly, his face paling. The sheet pooled at his waist was quickly pushed aside and he lurched from the bed, stumbling across the room and running into the door frame before clearing it and making it into the bathroom. Dean followed him in, grimacing as he heard Sam's knees smack hard off the ceramic tile. Sam retched, heaving, his back tense as he bent over the toilet, sweat drenched tee clinging to his back. Dean crossed the room and crouched behind Sam, the smell of sweat and sickness being forced aside as he concentrated on helping his brother.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's middle, keeping him upright when another heave wanted to send him face first into the porcelain in front of him. His other hand stroked soothingly down Sam's spine, his shirt molding to the flesh beneath as if it were another layer of skin. Dean felt the ridges of Sam's spine. Looking down at the back of Sam's neck Dean saw red welts, long and jagged, disappearing beneath Sam's soaked collar. The lines looked like newly healed scars, ragged scratches or tears sealed over with new, sensitive flesh.

Dean held Sam through another bout of vomiting and smoothed his hand down Sam's back, concentrating on the detail he felt beneath Sam's shirt. The ridges of the scarring got wider and thicker, twisting and overlapping as they worked their way down the middle of Sam's back until about mid way, where they branched out and Dean lost them. He moved when Sam did, helping his brother to his feet, steadying him on shaking legs. Sam reached out for the sink, whimpering when Dean tried to steer him back toward the bedroom.

"Please." He said, a little high pitched. Breathless. Dean let Sam lean over the waist high basin, watching as Sam cranked the cold water, his weight supported by Dean and a one handed white knuckled grip that looked tight enough to shatter the sink.. He let the water flow over a shaking hand before rinsing his mouth and splashing water over his drawn face. It dripped off his nose and chin back into the sink and ran down his neck to saturate his already sodden collar.

Sam sniffed as Dean watched the top of his bowed head in the mirror, a hand still gripping the arm that Sam used to hold himself up.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. A new shirt might feel good, huh?"

Sam nodded once, another drop of water falling into the sink. Sam cranked the valve to off and stood straighter, letting Dean support him while he just concentrated on keeping one foot moving in front of the other .

Dean walked Sam across the room and back to the bed, easing him down. Sam remained sitting, one hand leaning on his knee. He pulled in a deep breath, releasing it and blinking as if he finally woke up a little bit. Dean handed him a soft gray tee shirt.

"Thanks." Sam said, his voice hollow, as he took the shirt, burying his fingers in the clean, soft material as if it was a treasured sight. Dean went to the other side of the bed, reaching for a warm can of Sprite that rested on the table inside the door, next to a full pizza box and a bucket of chicken that had shown up soon after Cas had left. He popped the tab and nearly dropped the can when he saw the lattice work of scarring across Sam's back, some small and white resembling lace, while others ran in thicker, curving bands that arched from the oldest scar, Jake's scar as Dean had come to think of it, up to Sam's shoulder blades to turn and drift downward to end at gathered points that nearly disappeared beneath Sam's waistband. A long, vicious scar ran the entire length of Sam's spine, from the base of his neck to his lower lumbar, the flesh still angry and sore looking. Sam straightened as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head and the scars seemed to move. To ripple. Like…

"Wings."

"What?" Sam asked, twisting to look back at Dean. Dean shook his head, and handed the can of Sprite over to Sam.

"Wings. Uh… got chicken. You feel like eating?"

Sam eased the can to his lips, swallowing a sip as if to see if his stomach would rebel. When it didn't he downed half the can of room temperature liquid.

"I can try. Where are we?"

"Cicero. Motel Six or something. Cas brought us here."

"Cicero?" Sam looked at Dean, standing from the bed. "You came to Lisa's." It wasn't a question. It was more like a statement, said in disbelief.

"I promised, didn't I?" Horror crossed Sam's features and his knees buckled. Dean leapt forward, catching Sam in time for him to hit the mattress more gently. "Oh god. I hurt her. I- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Sam hunched in on himself, rocking slightly, face pale, all thought of trying to eat now gone. He continued to talk, his tone verging on hysterical, babbling, eyes roaming wildly over the floor in front of him.

"Hey! Hey, Sammy, stop it!" Dean crouched and caught Sam's shoulders, pushing him back so that Sam was forced to face him. "Y'didn't hurt her. She's okay. Just scared."

"…louder and it was like it was talking to me…in my head. Static. So loud it hurt. I was so f-freakin' scared…"

Dean's hands tightened on Sam's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Sam!" Sam fell silent, breath loud in the room, eyes focusing on Dean. "I don't know what we're up against, but I do know one thing for sure. And that's that I am not gonna let it get to you. I promise you."

"I'm not sure you can stop it." Sam murmured. He pulled away and stepped up to the window, the salt crystals forming a protective line catching the moonlight and glinting as he watched.

Dean walked up behind Sam and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly when Sam flinched. "Sorry."

"'S alright." Sam said quietly, his eyes remaining fixed on what was beyond the window.

"Sammy…" Dean started, trailing off when he realized he had no idea how to ask the question that was eating him alive.

"You wanna know if I remember anything from hell." Sam said, his voice hollow and haunted.

"Umm…yeah."

Sam turned from the window, walking slowly, almost as if he was in pain, to the bed where he eased down. Dean followed, sitting opposite. He watched Sam lean forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. Dean mimicked the position, his knuckles brushing Sam's forearm.

*Supernatural*

I am stretched to the point of breaking, my shoulders screaming as the tendons and muscle threaten to tear. He leans over me, his face a mask of blinding white light, feeling my eyes sear in their sockets, turning to ash as he blinds me, but I feel no pain. He doesn't let me, instead I feel myself released from the rack just to be flipped over and secured again, my arms pulled tight, legs spread and locked into place. My heart hammers in my chest as darkness surrounds me when the white light steps back. The heat is killed off and turned to ice and I feel a freeing hand on my back, chilling my flesh until it crystallizes, splitting my spine wide open. I feel intense pain, something being ripped from me. I vaguely picture a snake slithering through a straw, before my mind implodes, shuts down. Coarse laughter rings in my ears in the seconds before I go numb, deaf, gasping for air that I can't pull in, can't feel it fill my lungs. They won't let me die as they wrap the bundle of nerves that is my exposed spinal cord around my neck and pull it tight like a noose.

God, PLEASE LET ME DIE!

They snap their fingers and I'm whole again. Not blind, not deaf, not numb. They give me back my tongue and I scream.

*Supernatural*

"Guh-huuuhhhhh…" Sam hunched in on himself, breathing hard as his eyes cleared before filling with tears. Dean had moved from his seat, crouching in front of Sam, both hands gripping Sam's shoulders, thumbs digging into his collarbones, working over the ridges, trying and failing to ground his brother, through whatever he was reliving.

*Supernatural*

I watch him stare at the carpet, thinking if he concentrates on it any harder the fibers themselves will catch fire. His eyes lose focus, beginning to search the space he looks at. He's not seeing the carpet, or my feet. He's not even feeling my fingers digging into his shoulders, tryin' to break him from what he's seeing. His eyes move and his breathing ratchets up a notch, whistling out of his lungs as fast as it's pulled in.

"C'mon Sammy, come back."

"Guh-huuuhhhhh…" I catch him as he seems to implode, fingers digging in more than I meant to, to keep him from face planting on the threadbare carpet. His eyes focus finally, stop rolling around, and well with tears and my heart breaks, shatters…right along with my brother.

*Supernatural*

Sam pulled away, picking his feet up and curling up on the bed, looking about seven years old instead of the plus twenty he actually was. He rubbed his face against the sheet, moisture darkening the powder blue to cerulean. Dean straightened and lowered himself to Sam's bed, his back deliberately touching Sam's thighs. Sam looked at Dean, another tear running from the corner of his eye down over the bridge of his nose to join with one from the other eye, running down his temple to disappear.

"I remember…it was a lot longer than a couple days. It was…years. They never let me forget…time. Every day when they tore me…" Sam pulled in a ragged breath and released it, muddling the next word, "…apart, they never let me forget how long they were down there. Because it was my fault. When each year ended they would show me things…about you. Little league games with Ben…picnics with Lisa. They showed me that you forgot about me. Then they would laugh and do something else…"

"No. I would never forget you. Sammy, you were on my mind every second. Besides, they lied, it was only five days. Just five days. What they showed you was all lies." Sam kept speaking over Dean's words.

"I would cry out for you…scream for you. I begged 'em. Just kill me. End it, I deserve it!"

Something hit Dean about what Sam had just said and he stopped, staring at his brother. "What'd they do, Sammy?" he asked quietly, his stomach beginning to churn.

"T-they tore out my spinal cord and strangled me with it. They wouldn't let me die!" Sam bared his teeth and sniffed, anger filtering through his features as he sat up and placed his sock feet on the carpet.

Dean leaned backwards, reaching for and pulling up Sam's tee shirt. "Did you know you have the scars?" He asked quietly.

Sam just nodded, another tear working free. "Sam, I know it's hard, but…what they did to you…it wouldn't leave scars like you have down the sides of your back. Did they say anything you can remember, do anything to you, that did that?

"Did what? All I can remember is them…celebrating the yearly anniversary of being in the pit by choking me with my own nervous system." Sam said bitterly. He quieted. "That's how I know it was five years. They were just about to start in on me for the fifth time. They were talkin' about it, like it was freakin' Mardi Gras."

"What happened after that, Sam? Did they…?" Dean choked, unable to finish his thought.

"Lucifer flipped me over on the rack, I remember him being so cold. Everywhere he touched it was like he froze me solid. Like if I would have fallen I would shatter. He started digging in and I screamed. My back burned so bad, he didn't let me go numb or…or, I dunno, I couldn't or something. Then there was this intense white light and flashes of…something…moving through it. Too fast to see. Then I snapped out of it and I was outside Lisa's. Don't remember much after that."

Dean's cell phone rang and he looked at it laying between the beds, ready to ignore it. Sam glanced at it and picked it up, handing it to his brother.

"It's Bobby."

Dean snapped the phone open. "Where the hell are you?"

"Don't you take that tone with me." Bobby sighed. "Look boy, I know you're broke over Sam, but somethin' weird is goin' on…"

"Didn't you get my messages? Somethin' already happened Bobby. Sammy's out. He's sittin' right beside me. Somethin's after him. It's already attacked us once."

"What?" Bobby made a strangled sound. "Sammy's out? You're sure its…"

"It's him. We're in Cicero. Super Six motel, room nineteen."

"I'll be there by nightfall." Bobby cut off the call with the roar of an engine that Dean caught in the background. He looked at Sam and smirked.

"He's gonna blow that old V8 wide open makin' it here by nightfall. Why don'cha get some sleep?"

"Can we go for a drive?"

"You wanna…"

Sam shrugged, "Kinda miss the car."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, okay." Dean grabbed his jacket, and keys, while Sam slowly slid his feet into his boots and reached for his jacket. Dean watched Sam move carefully. "You sure you're up to this? We can wait until later?"

"No. I wanna go."

"Well then, lets go." Dean gripped the back of Sam's neck gently and let him lead out the door. Dean moved ahead and opened the passenger door, waiting for Sam to ease himself against the leather. Dean shut the door and jogged around the front of the car, sliding behind the wheel.

"Where to?"

Sam shook his head, staring all around the interior of the car. His fingers worked over the leather of the seat by his legs. His fingers moved of their own accord, drifting toward the dial on the radio. He hesitated, looking shyly over at Dean.

Dean looked at Sam's hand, then at his face, smiling broadly. "Well, go ahead."

Sam flipped on the radio.

Never cared for what they know

But I know….

Never opened myself this way

Life is ours we live it our way

Oh, these words I don't just say

And nothing else matters

Sam looked at Dean and smiled as Dean hit the gas, pulling out of the motel lot with a squeal of rubber against the pavement. He sighed and leaned back against the seat reaching a long arm out to run his fingers over the edge of the dashboard. Sam's eyes roamed over the car while Dean glanced his way.

He's finally home. Dean thought, blinking back sudden moisture from his green eyes. Sam shifted in the seat, dropping his hand to his lap and stretching his long legs as far as the confines of the car would allow. Sam's head tipped back against the top of the seat and his hair, stirred by the breeze coming in Dean's open window, drifted down over his closed eyes before brushing back his forehead. He sighed and fully relaxed, the purr of the big V8 lulling him like nothing else.

*Supernatural*

He's finally home. I feel my eyes burn and no way in hell am I gonna cry while I'm goin' down the road. Not with him in the car. I have to see so nothin' happens to him. I blink and watch him from the corner of my…damnit, they're still stinging… and see him tip his head back, close his eyes.

I'll drive forever if it means he gets some rest.