Dean wheeled away from the woman; very sure he left chunks of his flesh under her fingernails. "Seizures." He stammered out, an excuse he hadn't used in a long while and had hoped to never have to use again.

"Dean, coming, it's coming! It's going to take me, don't let it, don't let it feed on me." Sam's voice was high pitched, childish, from the time before he even knew what hunting was. "Feeds on kids, sucks their souls. Man with yellow eyes, he's following us."

Luck was not with him today. Not really surprising.

"Seizures don't cause that!"

Dean ignored her. Sam was scrambling across the floor, away from him. Dean dove after him. "Sam! Sammy!" Grabbing Sam's shoulders elicited the immediate response of Sam's hands latching onto Dean's arms.

"In my head, he's in my head, says shoot, shoot, don't want to shoot…Dean! I shot you. Jessica's burning, everyone burns." Sam's words rushed out of his mouth so fast Dean was having a hard time piecing them together, making sense of Sam's nonsense.

"What sort of freak is he?" The woman shouted.

It was a good thing for her Dean was so preoccupied hanging onto Sam, or else he'd have punched her right in the mouth.

"He's not a freak!"

Dean jerked around to face Sam again when Sam's fingers clamped on his biceps, shaking him, eyes so wide Dean thought they'd pop right out of Sam's head. Sam shook him again, shouting at him. "It's nothing, there's nothing, just nothing, it's gonna swallow us up. World is ending, ending…yellow-eyed demon, he's coming for me. Jake killed me, you're dead…Dean's dead, don't die, don't leave me."

Hands firmly gripping the sides of Sam's head, Dean forced his brother to face him. "Sammy, I'm here. We're here. It's okay."

Tears streamed down Sam's face, his breathing such rapid pants Dean thought he'd hyperventilate and pass out. "The world is gone, nothing left, just gray, gray everywhere. It's inside me; she's inside me, taking over. I didn't want to kill him…where's Dean? I want to go home, I can't find Dean." His voice slipped disturbingly between that of a child, and his normal adult timbre.

Getting away from him, Sam half ran, half fell across the floor, knocked into a stand, sending it and the books stored on it flying in all directions.

"Sam, shut up." Dean hissed. Darting after Sam, he managed to get a hold of him an instant before another spinning book stand was sent crashing down. Kicking Sam's legs out from under him, stopping him, Dean pulled him up to his knees, shaking him so hard Sam's head whipped back and forth a few times.

The woman screamed, drawing both his and Sam's attention to her. She stared at the floor next to her. "She's gone. Just gone. She was here one minute then when I looked again…she was gone."

Dean stared at her, then it registered, there had been two women standing there. He'd wanted to ask them questions when Sam decided to have his…whatever it was Sam was having. If this was a vision, then it was the mother of all visions, like no vision Sam had ever had. He shifted his weight so he could watch her and Sam, at the same time keeping himself firmly between them both.

"It's coming, the end, everyone gone. Gone! I can hear them," Sam's fingers twined in his hair, pulling his own head one way then the other. "She's taking me over, made me kill the man, don't want to hurt Dean, don't want to hurt Dean." Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Sam curled in on himself, rocking.

"What did he do?" She shrieked.

"I'm sorry. I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry." Sam chanted, rocking faster. "Bomb, I'm a bomb, I didn't mean it, I'msorrysorrysorry. Two, two, zero one, one, two, two, one…same numbers…same…same…bomb went off, bombs go off, didn't mean to."

Sam's arms slid around Dean's shoulders, his forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder blade. Reaching back, Dean wrapped one arm around Sam, trying to quiet him. The eyes that met Dean's were wide, frightened, childish.

The woman backed away, eyes round, face white. "He set off a bomb? He caused this?"

Dean grabbed his panic, shoved it down hard and fast to somewhere deep in his chest, shoved Sam farther from the woman, standing in the same movement. Squarely between her and Sam, he shouted his frustration and fear. "NO! Seizures you dumb bitch, he has seizures and repeats what he sees on TV, which he is NEVER watching again!"

"Get back." She screeched, throwing a book at them.

Twisting his shoulders, one arm over his head, Dean ducked away, using his upper body to cover Sam. The book deflected off his back, bouncing harmlessly to the floor. The woman ran from the building.

Turning back to Sam, who was tugging at his hair again, rocking, muttering things from their childhood, from when Sam was maybe four or five, things Dean barely remembered. Pulling him up, Dean searched out Sam's eyes for something, anything of his brother, his adult, sane brother. Sam bit his lip, eyes dropping to the floor when Dean gently took hold of his wrists, pushing his hands down and away from his hair.

Sam's knees buckled, starting his slide to the floor. One arm securely around his brother's back, Dean eased Sam to the floor and settled on his heels next to him. Voices from the stairs to the second floor, where most the groups of people had gathered, had Dean's head snapping in that direction. Swiveling on his heels, hands firmly on Sam, Dean scanned the area.

He doubted he could get Sam back to the motel just yet. They'd walked here, not wanting to waste gas, which might become difficult to get soon with no power. They needed somewhere out of sight. Now.

There was a room off the main room, it was small, had a door and no window, so no natural light. Three of its walls were lined with magazine racks filled with tax forms. Pulling Sam with him, Dean scooted through the doorway, pushed Sam against a far wall and kicked the door closed behind them before settling next to his brother, one arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders, bracing him close.

Tears welled in Sam's eyes, "You mad at me?"

"No." Dean said softly, shaking his head. "Of course not." Pressing the palm of one hand against the side of Sam's head so his face pressed into Dean's neck, Dean whispered, "I want you to be very quiet for me, can you do that?"

A jerky nod was his response.

Dean couldn't help the smile twitching at his lips. "That's my boy."

Watching the silhouettes and shadows from people moving about the outer room, they scrunched farther into a corner, deeper into the darkest part of the small room. Sam pulled his knees up to his chest, rolling into nearly a ball, fingers clutching Dean's clothing. He didn't make a sound, but Dean felt how Sam's breath hitched every few seconds.

"Demons coming, they're coming to take us. Everything is gone." Sam whimpered the words out against Dean's side.

Bracketing Sam with his arms and legs, Dean leant down, breathing words into Sam's ear. "I'll kill the demons, Sammy. You're going to help me."

Those seemed to be the magic words. Sam immediately relaxed, his breathing evened out and he slumped unconscious against Dean. Leaning back, taking a few deep breaths, Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a few minutes. When he opened them there were people outside the room. He watched them mill around, some picking up the books Sam had knocked down. No one seemed to be searching for them.

Their words floated at Dean. Generators, old ones, the few that did work proved there was no TV reception, or radio, internet, phone lines, no communication in or out. Nothing but static was given up by any device used to reach the outside world. No proof one way or the other the outside world still existed. He found his breath coming easier, his muscles stopped trembling and he relaxed as the groups left that part of the library.

It wasn't until Sam shuddered awake Dean realized he'd dozed off too, adrenaline crash.

Pulling away far enough to sit straight, Sam looked around, the confusion in his expression grew as his eyes flitted from one thing to the next, barely landing on anything for more than a split second. The fingers of one hand gripped the fringe of Dean's jeans.

"Sam?" Dean kept his voice low, even. The last thing he wanted to do was set off another—hell Dean wasn't even sure what to call it—and send his brother spiraling down to wherever he'd just emerged from.

Sam's eyes lifted to his, focused on him for a few seconds before he drew in a shuddering breath. "What happened?"

"Do you remember anything?"

Eyebrows scrunching together, Sam rubbed his forehead. Pressing his eyes shut, shaking his head, "I don't know, it was…Jess, and Meg, a shtriga…but I was little…and…I hurt…hurt you…didn't want to…"

"Hey, hey." Dean leaned forward, taking Sam's arm, "Look at me, Sammy." He gave the arm a shake. "Sam." This time his tone was firm, leaving room for nothing but obedience.

Sam looked at him, eyes too bright, too glassy. "What's happening to me?"

Dean could only shake his head slowly. "I don't know Sammy."

"There's voices." Sam rubbed his temple.

Leaning forward until he could catch Sam, rest both hands firmly on either side of his brother's neck, Dean squeezed. "The only voice you listen to is mine, you got that? Ignore the rest."

Dean could only hope he'd be able to ignore the icy rock of fear building in his middle. Sam mentally unstable was something that sent spikes of terror through Dean, ones he had no idea how to control or even cope with. His head whirred with what ifs and scenarios he had no ability to stop, but at the same time had no desire to even consider. Would Dean be able to keep control if Sam couldn't? Was the influence he exerted going to be enough, and if not would he be able to keep Sam hidden away well enough to keep him from threats, from being a threat?

"The numbers, they were in my head too, with the voices."

Dean's hand wiped over his mouth. "It's here, all this, it's intertwined somehow." It had to be, before they'd driven into this crap town Sam had been fine, perfectly fine. People don't just go crazy overnight, do they? Dean had no clue.

"Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm causing this." Sam whispered, voice raw and rough.

"NO!" Anger swelled to replace the fear. Sam was not at fault, he wasn't, not in the least. Dean shoved away from Sam, to his feet. He stood over his brother, glaring down, shaking a finger at him. "No. You aren't in anyway responsible for this, so just stop that crap right now."

Sam flinched, but didn't move away. Dean didn't give a damn right then if he scared the kid or not.

"Something is doing this, screwing with us, with these people. You're getting caught in the crossfire. But you sure as hell are not responsible. Do you understand me?" He snapped out the last few words in a voice barely above an exhale, but harsh and determined nonetheless.

Sam nodded. "That woman might not agree with you." He pulled up on the hand Dean offered him. They both glanced out the glass partition, the people had cleared out of the library, or at least that portion of it.

"Sam, they're not going to…I won't—"

Eyes softening, Sam ducked his head, the corners of his mouth turned up. "I know. That's the one thing I always know, can count on." He drew a deep breath, met Dean's gaze once again. "It wasn't a vision, it was like before, I was part of it, participating, but everything happened so fast, I couldn't keep up. What I told you is all I remember."

"That's all right." Dean patted Sam's shoulder, "I think I got the gist of it. Anyone asks, you have seizures."

Rolling his eyes, Sam huffed, "Great."

"It was the best I could do under the circumstances. You okay to walk now?"

Sam nodded, seeming no worse for the wear. Leading the way out of the tiny room, Dean stooped and plucked Sam's bag off the floor, slinging it over his own shoulder. Sam gave him a bit of an odd look, then shrugged and trailed along beside Dean. "What else do you remember?" He glanced sideways at Sam as they stepped out of the library, into the early afternoon.

"Not much. I don't even know where some of it came from."

"You were talking about things from when you were pretty young, stuff I barely remember."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, cause you're sooo much older than me."

Pushing his elbow into Sam's side hard enough to make his young brother sidestep a few paces to keep from tripping over his feet and ending on the pavement, "Smart ass." Dean smirked. In reality, the past few hours he'd felt more like he was twenty years older than Sam not four and a half. "Did you have any warning, feel different, even in some small way?"

"No." Sam gave him a quick glance then watched his feet hitting the sidewalk.

Reaching out, Dean laid one hand on Sam's closest shoulder, he knew that tone of voice. A gentle pat and squeeze rewarded him with a relieved look and small, quick smile from Sam. "Don't sweat it Sammy. That was a long shot anyway. Your other visions never had warning either."

"These weren't visions." Sam's voice was soft and low.

"Yeah, I know, but what else do you want to call them?"

Sam huffed a breath but didn't comment.

"We need to keep an eye on Ernie, he could be useful. No one seems to know what he does, but he's got plenty of money, has his bunker set up for the next world war…well actually the alien invasion."

"Alien invasion?"

"You betcha. Interesting thing about aliens—" Dean's words were cut off as he and Sam rounded the corner to the street their motel was on. There was a plaza across the street from the motel. "Hey!"

Two men, maybe in their late forties, ran from one of the shops in the plaza, arms laden with cardboard cases and bags of fruit. A third man chased after them, stopping when one of the thieves swung around, punching the third man hard enough to send him sprawling back through the doorway of his store.

"Shit." Sam darted around Dean, chasing after the two men.

"Sam, where…get back here." Dean stopped long enough to haul the stunned man to his feet. "You okay?"

The man looked him up and down, nodding and looking plenty dazed. "You're not from around here."

"No."

"Thanks."

"You'd better sit down for a few." Dean pushed the man back, propped him against the counter, peering closely at him. "You are okay?"

"Yeah."

Without waiting for more conversation he sprinted after Sam. Catching a glimpse of Sam slipping around the end of the plaza Dean headed that way, rounding the corner in time to see Sam pull up fast, hands high in the air he back pedaled a few steps before stopping.

"Wait, come on, you don't need that." Sam's voice dipped up and down, covering a few octaves.

Without much thought Dean ducked in front of his brother, immediately drawing the attention of the pistol aimed at Sam to himself. "Whoa. Calm down." He held one hand out, pushed against Sam with the other one.

"Get back. We're not going to starve." The man not holding a gun on them shouted.

"You've got beer and oranges. That's hardly going to sustain you." Dean shot back.

"Dean." Sam hissed in his ear, using his arm under Dean's to nudge his brother's hands up.

The man fired, hitting the wall behind them and just to their right, causing both brothers to duck away.

"It's beer and oranges. Put the damn gun down and think about it." Dean quelled his shaking insides and put as much authority into his voice as he could.

"Come on." The other man tugged on his buddy's arm.

The distinctive click of a pistol being cocked and a cleared throat had all four turning. "I've seen you at the shooting range, you couldn't hit the broad side of this mountain so put that down before someone gets hurt. Keep the damn beer and oranges."

Dean immediately recognized the newcomer as Ernie.

"These boys," Ernie tipped his head at Dean and Sam, "don't want any trouble, and I'm sure you don't either. I sure as hell don't want to waste my ammo on you. We might need it for more important things."

Backing away, the other man's weapon leveled directly at Sam's head. His eyes, however, never wavered from Dean's. "Move and he gets it."

"Not moving." Dean shot Ernie a glare that clearly read he didn't care about either gun, anyone moved and Dean would stop them with his bare hands if necessary. "None of us." Dean's threat might have been wordless, but it wasn't empty.

Ernie seemed to understand. Nodding once, he lowered his pistol.

The two men stared at them for another few seconds before the armed one tucked his gun away, and backed up, pushing his friend behind him. When they reached the back of the building they both turned and ran, out of sight in seconds.

"Are you all right?" Dean barely had the words finished when Sam was echoing them.

"This has been happening all morning. People, friends, just turning on one another, acting like insolent children." Ernie slid his pistol into a shoulder holster. "Acting like they've forgotten how to be civilized folk."

Taking in a few deep breaths, Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "This is nuts."

"What they said earlier, about not being able to leave this area, it's true. I checked it out, saw it for myself."

"Yeah, us too. Did you see anything unusual?" Dean ventured.

Ernie shook his head. "No, just when anything reaches a certain spot in the road it vanishes, disintegrates. Seems some people have gone missing with no sign from inside the town too." He turned to face Dean. "What about you?"

"No, we didn't see anything." Dean met Sam's gaze for a beat.

"You really hunt aliens?" Sam blurted out. Dean immediately caught the change in his voice. It was awestruck, full of childish wonder and curiosity. Just like when Sam had been a small child.

Ernie caught the slight change in Sam's demeanor too. He was bouncing a bit in place, fingers twitching at his sides, eyes flitting from Dean to Ernie, waiting Dean's approval to speak to a stranger as if he were five again.

Dean watched as the other man slid his gaze over Sam, assessing, then his expression softened. He nodded. "I do." He turned back to Dean, holding out one hand. "Ernie."

"Dean." He shook the offered hand. "This is my brother, Sam."

"Hi, Sam." Ernie shook Sam's hand then stepped away from him. "You need to stay with your brother, not wander off."

"Yeah, I'll try and remember that." Sam replied cynically.

Dean bit back a smile, hearing the sarcasm dripping out of Sam's mouth with his words. Ernie's eyes narrowed for a second, studying Sam. He'd seen it too, the shift between child and adult.

"Not too many folks being rational right about now. I'm glad there are a few left."

While Ernie talked to them both, Dean had the distinct feeling he was being singled out as the rational one. The desire to run, get away, flee, crawled under Dean's skin, trying to claw its way out. Problem was there was nowhere for them to go and no way out.