Malcolm's Kitchen…

Sam shouldered his way into the diner. It didn't take him long to spot Peter. He had to grab the kid and get back to the motel. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to think they'd vanished as well. Of course Sam hadn't thought of that until he was just a few steps from the diner. Putting a damper on the rage coursing through him at the sight of Peter, Sam took a few deep breaths. Ignoring the stares and heads dipping at him, Sam made his way quietly across the diner.

We can't save them all.

Shoving thoughts of what Peter's neck would feel like encased in his hands, he smiled politely to Lynn and sidled up to Peter. When Sam's hand curled around Peter's arm, the kid looked up at him, clearly uncomfortable, if not down right afraid of him.

Sam unclenched his jaw and teeth. Acting like a pissed off deranged lunatic wasn't going to further his cause any. "Dean's going to think we disappeared, he'll be worried." Hell, he'll freak right on out like never before and rip this town to shreds in about six minutes.

Peter pulled away, or tried to, but there was no escaping the grip Sam had clamped on his arm. Looking from him to Lynn, he stammered out, "I…ummm…thought my mom…"

"Honey," Lynn's hand on Sam's arm was light, her voice soft, reassuring, and understanding. "Where is your brother? I'll take you both right now."

You were always my favorite, Sammy. Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm around.

Dean wasn't here.

"I'm sure your brother wouldn't let anything happen to you."

How did she know what he was thinking? Were the words coming out of his mouth too?

Sam didn't miss the way she looked around the diner, how she seemed nervous. More than one group of people had stopped their meal and their conversation. Entire groups of heads were turned their way.

Shtrigas take little boy's souls…Dean stop it…

"That's a funny word, shtriga, what's that?" Lynn was gently trying to remove Sam's hand from Peter's arm.

Sam bit down on his lip to stop the quivering. He'd said that out loud? He had to have. I'm sorry Dean, shouldn't say those things.

Do what we do and shut up about it. We can't save them all.

Lynn licked her lips. Since Sam refused to release Peter, she pushed against Sam's shoulder, moving him closer to the door. "Save who? Is your brother hurt?"

Winding the fingers of his free hand in his hair, Sam scrunched his eyes shut for a minute. Think, he had to think and shut his mouth, and why couldn't he just think? Get away, had to get away. Get Peter away, he couldn't do much with the kid while surrounded by people. That thought startled his eyes open. God, he was scared of them, of this town, of himself. Where's Dean? His brother never let him out alone, especially not when there was trouble. He'd even crossed the street by himself…not allowed to do that.

Sam's a bomb…kill things all the time…bombs go ka-BOOM!

"Why does he keep babbling about a bomb?" A man Sam recognized, but couldn't remember his name or why he recognized him stood from his stool at the counter, moved in pointing angrily at Sam.

"I don't think he understands what he's talking about." Lynn's hand put more pressure on Sam's shoulder, but he was too frightened to move. What had he done to make these people so angry with him?

You're a freak. Traitor to your own kind!

Burn, witch, burn.

Freak. Bomb!

Man with yellow eyes. Don't hurt Dean. Dean, please don't die.

Burn, witch, burn.

Traitor.

Voices screamed through his head. They hated him, they all hated him.

You were always my favorite, Sammy.

Sam staggered backwards, dragging Peter with him. "Where's my brother. I have to go be with my brother. He'll be mad I didn't stay in our room." Letting go of Peter, Sam brushed the back of one hand over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. His other hand tugged on his hair. Breathing hard, he tried to remember, in through his nose, out his mouth.

Where is Dean? Where is Dean? Where is Dean?

Dean's in Hell.

No, he's not.

Dean burns in Hell.

Burn, witch, burn.

Dean came back. Dean brought me back. Dean's alive.

"Honey, nothing happened to your brother." Lynn shot a look at Peter, who shook his head.

"That kid knows something!" The man shouted.

"He's a little boy, and you're frightening him." Lynn shouted back.

"He's no little kid."

Lynn tapped her own forehead. "He is in here. And you're scaring him. Stop it."

Jarring from his knees hitting the floor brought more tears to Sam's eyes. He didn't want to cry in front of these strangers, big boys didn't cry.

Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Sammy.

But Dean wasn't here.

Because he went to Hell, stupid. You let him die, you let him go to Hell…no, no, no, don't let go…never let go…back, Dean came back…

"Listen, kid, you'd better tell us what you know about a bomb!" The man grabbed Sam's shirt collar and hauled him to his feet.

"Stop it!" Lynn snapped out, both hands on the man's arm, jerking him away.

Burn, witch, burn…traitor…freak…turned on your own kind…traitor…turned…kill things…can't save them all…

Rounding on Lynn, he let go his grip on Sam. Tumbling back and to the ground, Sam huddled in a ball, hugging himself and bending at the middle over his arm. He stared up through his tears, violent rage tore through him when the man pushed Lynn back a few steps.

"No! Don't hurt her!" Sam shouted. The sound of shattering glass made him duck and cover his head with both arms. A second's worth of bright pain lanced his skull, evaporating as soon as it appeared. He looked up when he realized the entire diner had gone silent.

All the drinking glasses on the tables near them were lying in broken shards. Sam hugged himself, rocking back and forth, trying so hard to stop the tears that refused to stop. Sam huddled back against a booth, cringing away from the angry man in front of him, shouting at him. Words Sam heard but couldn't process. The only thing he could do in response was sob out pleas for his brother. "Where's Dean? Please, I want to go home, be with Dean."

She's chasing me, taking me, inside me, Meg's inside, makes me kill, don't want to kill that man.

"It's an act." The man was screaming now, at Lynn, at everyone. He pointed an accusing finger at Sam. "He knows about some bomb that can do that!" The accusing finger swept an arc in the air, indicating the now shattered drinking glasses.

"No one can pretend to be like that." Lynn insisted. She sucked in a gasp when the man pulled a gun, aimed it at her forehead.

"Back off. I'm taking him to the police station. We're getting to the bottom of this crap. It's some kind of an attack, and this boy knows what's going on."

Several other people stepped up, making a circle around Sam, forcing Lynn away from him. Sam saw her grab Peter by the shoulder, whisper something in his ear and give him a shove. The boy slipped, unnoticed by the crowd, out the door. Curling onto himself, Sam let his forehead rest against his knees, hugging himself tighter, he clamped his mouth shut and sobbed silently.

Smokey Mountain Inn…

Dean stepped out of the bathroom. It took a few seconds for the fact facing him to register. Empty. The room was empty. A wave rolled through him, turning his knees to mush. By the time Dean managed to grasp the doorjamb the feeling was gone.

"Sam?" The word died as it echoed around the vacant room.

Standing completely still, only his eyes moving, Dean scanned the room. His blood pounded like chunks of ice in his ears. Gone. Sam was gone. Vanished. He didn't even realize a tear skimmed his cheek until he reached up to brush away the annoying tickle of it slip sliding down his face.

His eyes went from the chair Sam had occupied—Sam's book is on the floor, closed—to trail over the carpet to the door—it's open, I left it shut. I locked it—then to their car sitting patiently in the parking spot just outside their room—keys are in the door.

Dean bolted outside, snatching the keys from the car door where they dangled, swaying softly. He stood and stared at them in his palm. The others, when they'd vanished, everything else was just as they left it. Sam had been sitting with a book on his lap. The door had been shut and locked. The car keys he'd left resting on the dresser.

Where was Peter? The sudden question thundered through his head. His stomach dropped then twisted violently. No way, there was no way Sam would hurt the kid. Two steps had him at the trunk of the car. Unlocking it and yanking it open, Dean jerked the false bottom up. Knees suddenly too weak to support his weight, Dean gripped the side of the trunk, pulling in deep ragged breaths until the world stopped its unruly spinning.

Everything was just where he'd left it. Sam's gun sat where Dean had put it.

"Where the hell did you go?" He asked the Impala. "Why did you go?" That question came out nothing but a weak whisper. Sam was hardly defenseless, gun or no. Sam was equally as dangerous with his hands. "He wouldn't do anything to Peter." Slamming the trunk shut, he shook his head at himself. He sure didn't sound convinced.

The sound of an engine pulling up beside him and cutting off made him jerk around. Please let Sam be in there. Ernie jumped from the driver's seat of an older 4x4 type truck. Dean stood there, staring at him, at the empty truck Ernie had vacated.

"I've just been to Irvine's house, they're gone."

"Ir-Irvine?" Dean's befuddled brain was working to catch up.

"Peter's family."

"They're gone."

"I know." Ernie seemed impatient.

"Not Peter, he was with us, came to the diner looking for him mom. Sam and I had him come with us. There was no one at his house."

"Where is he now?"

When Dean didn't answer, Ernie grabbed his arm, gave him a rough shake. Pulling away at once, Dean glared a warning. The man let go but didn't back off. Dean recognized at once the expression he wore. The boy, Peter, meant something to him, the rest of his family too, but especially Peter.

"Dean."

"He and Sam were…they were right there." Dean pointed through the open door to the motel room.

Ernie blanched, straightened, and gave Dean a hard stare. "You left Peter alone with Sam?"

"I went to the bathroom. It's not like I sent the two of them out on survival training in the desert."

"Look, I don't mean to sound nasty or anything, but your brother isn't exactly—"

"Exactly what?" Dean's upper lip curled to a snarl. Just let this man finish that sentence.

Taking a deep breath, Ernie's face softened. "He's not exactly babysitting material. No offence intended."

"No, he's not." Dean had to agree there. "I went into the bathroom. Peter was sitting on the bed, and Sam was in the chair, reading."

"People been disappearing." This time Ernie seemed to be talking to himself more than Dean.

Dean quickly pointed out, "It wasn't the same. We saw that too. People just disappeared, but everything else just left. Things were different when I came out. Stuff was moved. I think they left."

"Got any idea—"

Ernie's words were cut off and their attention was drawn to the parking lot when they heard someone running and shouting. "Dean. DEAN!"

Peter pounded to them, barely stopped before grabbing Dean's arm. He tugged and tried to run backwards all at the same time.

"Peter, what—" Ernie started questioning the boy, but Peter ignored him.

"They're going to hurt him. You have to hurry."

Dean looked at Ernie, realization spreading over his face in a way Dean was sure reflected his own.

"They think Sam did something. I went to the diner to see if my Mom was there. Sam came after me. I'm sorry. I should have waited and told you. Now they have Sam, they're going to hurt him. They think he did this!"

Dean jerked free, "Come on." He took one step toward his car before Ernie grabbed him.

"I know these streets better than you."

Wheeling Dean around, Ernie shoved him at his truck. "Get in." He shouted at Peter who scrambled in the back seat. Dean was shoved into the passenger side of the front seat. Ernie had his truck fired up and peeling out in mere seconds.

Dean was glad when they reached the diner it was Ernie driving. He stopped in front, whereas Dean would have plowed straight through and with the amount of people inside, no doubt killed someone, maybe even Sam.

Barely slowing down to crash through the door, Dean pulled up fast when confronted with the scene in front of him. Sam was on the floor, huddled in a ball, crying, freaking begging a man to let him go, let him go to Dean, to please get Dean. A group of about six others had formed a circle, blocking anyone else from them. The man had a gun. It was Knifeman, Dean recognized him at once.

Someone outside the group shouted, drawing everyone's attention for a minute. "All the people in the section at the back are gone. They were right there, now they are gone."

"Get away from him." Dean snarled out, slamming into the closest person, intent on grabbing his panicked brother.

Knifeman, now armed with a gun, swung on Dean, gun up and pointed at his forehead. Skidding to a halt, Dean threw both hands in the air. "Look, I just came here to get my brother. Then we're both gone, out of your way."

"Your brother isn't going anywhere until he tells us what he knows about the bomb."

Dean's mind scrambled for the words to get through to these idiots. He sure couldn't fist fight an entire mob and take them all down. Again his knees tried betraying him, a huge intake of air and Dean forced his body straight.

"NO!" Sam screamed.

Fascinated, Dean watched as a glass partition behind Sam cracked. Thousands of fractures wormed through the partition, making the entire thing pop and groan. Sam surged to his feet, lunging at Knifeman, stumbling a few steps and winced.

The glass wall exploded, sending splinters of glass in all directions.

Sam tackled Knifeman, reared back and punched him in the back of the head. The hand gripping the gun was flung out and to the side. The gun discharged. Hearing a grunt and a thud, then Peter's scream, Dean turned away long enough to see Ernie hit the floor, a line of red gauged across his temple. Eyes open, chest not moving, Dean knew without much further examination, the man was dead.

Darting forward, Dean grabbed Sam under one arm and hauled him up and away from Knifeman. Sam immediately latched onto Dean's arm. "Peter!" Dean turned to find the boy, moving a few steps toward him and Ernie's body, Sam in tow, stumbling along.

Get out. Just get the hell out now. It was Dean's new mantra. He intended to grab Peter, and hustle he and Sam somewhere they could hole up until things could be figured out.

Peter had Ernie's shirt fisted in both hands, pulling up and punching down, over and over. "No. No, no, no…" He hit Ernie again. "No. Please, no. You can't be dead."

A hand grabbed at Dean, another tried pulling Sam from his grasp. Swinging around, shoving Sam behind him, Dean's fist smashed into a jaw. A second later another body was sent flying as Dean hammered against another assailant.

How the hell Peter knew, Dean only spent a few seconds on. The kid sure couldn't have seen too many dead bodies.

One arm around Sam, Dean reached down for Peter. "We gotta get out of here."

Jerking away, Peter pulled again on Ernie's clothing. It did nothing other than make Ernie's body flop in odd directions. Dean opened his mouth to try reason, thought better of it, and just grabbed Peter around the waist and picked him up. The kid turned on him, throwing punches and kicking. Spears of pain lanced through Dean's shins where the kid's feet slammed against him. Clamping down against Peter's chest, Dean ducked away from the boy's fists, trying to keep him from twisting and hitting Dean in the face.

Sam turned on Peter. Reaching around Dean, Sam growled out, "Stop it." His fingers curled in Peter's hair, yanking his head away from Dean. Getting his other hand free from Dean, Sam grabbed up Peter's arm in a powerful vice grip, twisting and yanking. Stepping back against Sam, Dean tried pushing him farther away while at the same time not letting go of Peter. Trapped between the two Dean fought off the way his arms felt slow, sluggish, how his legs seemed to drag against the air around him.

"Sam!" Dean barked, his mouth close enough to his brother's ear, Sam pulled back, surprised. That gave Dean enough room to get one of Sam's arms, forcing him to partially let go of Peter.

People surrounded them, trying to pull Sam away.

Dean had to decide and do it fast. There was no decision really. No one wanted Peter dead. Letting go of the boy, he spun around so he had Sam with both hands. He shoved his kid brother away from the mob and at the door, shouted, "Peter!" commanding the boy to follow while realizing at the same time it was a useless act. Maybe he could stash Sam away and come back for Peter, but even as the thought went through his head, he knew he wouldn't leave Sam anywhere alone right now.

"Mr. Adaey, please! Ernie!" The sound of Peter's broken voice made Dean's heart bleed.

A hand landed on Dean where his neck curved into shoulder, another hand pulled on his arm. Jerking free, he saw fingers from yet another attacker wind around Sam's shoulder, someone else grabbed Sam's sleeve.

Using Sam as a brace, Dean swung around again, landing a solid kick to someone's midsection. Another punch connected with somebody else's jaw. He'd finally cleared space around them, and somewhat a path to the door. He just had to somehow get Peter away from Ernie's body.

Ernie coughed.

Dean sucked in his breath, and Sam made some odd choking noise behind him.

Ernie coughed again, this time added a groan, and rolled partially to his side. He squinted up at Peter who was still tugging on his clothes. "What hit me?" He took a look around and seemed to take in the pandemonium and general chaos in a few quick seconds. Pushing up farther, he took hold of Peter's arm. "We need to go."

Shoving people away, Ernie caught Dean's eye and jerked his head at the door. More staggering than running, Peter in tow, Ernie headed to the door, then out to his truck.

"He was dead." Sam hissed in Dean's ear.

Turning far enough to see Sam's wide eyes and pale face, Dean nodded. "I guess not dead enough."

Taking advantage of the path cleared by Ernie, Dean and Sam ran out before anyone else could get a hold of them. Reaching the truck, Dean wound one arm around Sam's middle and literally threw him into the backseat, the sound of footsteps coming at them slamming into his ears. Peter was shouting at them to hurry, and Ernie was shouting at their pursuers to back the hell off. The sound of gunfire over his head had Dean ducking as he threw himself into the backseat of the truck and over Sam.

The small group following them scattered.

Ernie jumped into the truck and had it going in reverse at a high rate of speed in no time.

"You'll be safe at my bunker. We all will," was all Ernie said as he guided the truck onto the road.

When Dean sat up and looked out the back window, the street in front of the diner was empty. Everyone chasing them was gone.