A/N: Thanks so very, very much to Cartersdaughter, skzb, and Catsluver, my wonderful betas. You guys are the cat's meow. ;-)

Thanks to all of you who are still reading and/or reviewing. You're the best!

**Warning:** Children in peril in this chapter.

Chapter 26

TJ's hands hurt. She'd been pounding on the door of the pantry for what seemed like hours, although she had no idea how long she'd been locked in the confined space. She'd tried kicking at the door, but it was old and made of solid oak, and there wasn't enough room in the pantry to swing her leg far enough to do any good. She didn't know how Aunt Liv had managed to lock it from the outside, but it wasn't budging.

She'd panicked when Liv had first shoved her into the windowless pantry, which was pitch black, except for a tiny sliver of light from under the door. TJ'd had a full-on anxiety attack. She couldn't breathe. Her heart felt like it would beat its way out of her chest. She yelled for Liv until she was hoarse, but Liv never answered. She cried. She thought the walls were closing in. She was running out of air. She pushed and pounded on the door until her hands were bruised.

But the walls hadn't closed in, and she was somehow still breathing. She slid to the floor of the tiny space. It was barely big enough for her to sit down with her knees hugged to her chest. She was exhausted, and now she needed to pee. If someone didn't let her out soon, she would have to pee her pants. Lovely. Where the hell was Jeremy? Surely he would be home soon. It seemed like she'd been stuck in the pantry for years. Please, dear Lord, let him come home soon, she prayed.

She felt along one of the shelves and found a bag of something, opened it, and smelled. It smelled like potato chips, and her stomach growled. At least she wouldn't go hungry. She popped a chip in her mouth, savoring the crunchy saltiness of it. "Look, Mom and Dad!" she shouted. Then she laughed, and it was tinged with hysteria. "Look, Sam! I'm eating! Are you satisfied?" Her words soaked into the inky blackness of the pantry, going no further than her own ears.

She sighed. It was ironic that she'd fought with Sam and her parents about not eating, and now here she was, locked in a pantry full of food. Was God trying to tell her something?

Remembering her conversation with Jeremy last night, she popped another chip in her mouth defiantly. When Jeremy had opened the front door, she'd been upset, crying, and madder than hell—and had practically fallen into his arms. They'd gone into his den and sat together on his brown leather sofa.

He hugged her to him, draped his arm around her shoulders, and idly rubbed his finger up and down her arm in a soothing gesture. "So, I'm not complaining, but are you gonna tell me why you showed up on my doorstep so upset?"

She sniffed and rubbed the tears from her cheeks with her hand. Her nose was so stopped up from crying she had to breathe through her mouth.

"Hold on," said Jeremy. He got up and left the room. A minute later, he came back with a box of tissues and offered her one as he sat back down next to her.

"Thanks." She blew her nose.

"Spill it, Pippi." Jeremy's silver-gray eyes were sympathetic and kind. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Sam and my parents, they think I need to see a shrink."

Jeremy frowned a bit, like he was trying to understand. "You mean because of the amnesia?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, not really. They think I have an eating disorder." He didn't comment, just listened attentively, so she sighed and went on to explain. "Apparently, when I was at SDSU, I, um—I developed bulimia."

His frown deepened into one of concern.

She felt a flush creep up her neck. "You know me," she said, a self-deprecating tone in her voice. "It wasn't just your everyday, run-of-the-mill bulimia. I had to take it a step further. I was diagnosed with bulimia with anorexic tendencies."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

She looked down, embarrassed. "They said I would starve myself until I couldn't stand it anymore, and then I would..." She trailed off and swallowed hard. "They said I would binge and make myself throw up."

He didn't respond.

TJ looked up, expecting to see disgust, but his expression was one of understanding. She'd left out the part where she'd ended up in the hospital. She couldn't stand him knowing how serious everything had gotten.

"Hey. Come here," said Jeremy softly, pulling her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Nelly. I never knew."

She huffed. "I guess it wasn't something I wanted to broadcast."

He nodded and loosened his embrace, looking at her.

"Sam and my parents—they think because I haven't gained back any of the weight I lost in the hospital that I'm starving myself again." She met his eyes, imploring him to believe her. "They're wrong, and I'm so sick of them telling me what to do. They want me to be a woman, but they treat me like a child. They act like I can't think for myself, like I would be stupid enough to develop the bulimia again. I mean, my mom told me all about what happened. I'm not gonna let it happen."

He took one of her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over one of her fingers. "You are really thin, Nelly," he observed, "thinner than I've ever seen you."

She rolled her eyes. "That's just it. You've never seen me this skinny, but it doesn't mean I'm not healthy. You're just not used to it."

He frowned again.

"Even Aunt Liv said I looked good."

"TJ," he said dubiously, "my mother is delusional. She sees what she wants to see. She's not a good judge."

"I thought you liked how I look. You even told me I was beautiful."

"You are. I meant it when I said that, but if you put some meat on your bones, it won't make you any less beautiful."

She snorted. "Right. Let's not sugarcoat it, Jer. I've always had the corn-fed look."

He shook his head, about to speak, but she didn't let him. "I won't go back to that: feeling like a stout, lumbering farm girl. I'm in control this time. I like the weight I am, and I like my body. I won't let anyone take that away from me—not Sam, not my parents, not you." Frustration was beginning to build. "I came to you because I thought you'd understand."

"Hey, I'm on your side. You know that. But I didn't know the whole story. I just thought you were so thin because of everything that's happened, because of the coma and being in the hospital. Have you been intentionally trying not to gain weight?"

She groaned.

"Answer me, Nelly. Have you been dieting?"

She felt defensive. "I just watch my calories; that's all. Just like I've done my whole life. It's no big deal."

"Have you—have you made yourself throw up?"

"No!"

He looked relieved. "And this shrink they want you to see—it's someone that knows how to deal with eating disorders?"

"For God's sake, Jeremy, I don't have an eating disorder!"

He held up his hands in supplication. "I'm not saying you do, but what have you got to lose? If you're in control like you say, why not just go to the shrink and prove to everyone that they're wrong, that you're fine?"

She felt like howling with exasperation. "I shouldn't have to prove myself! I'm tired of no one listening to me!"

"It's a two-way street, Nelly. If you want them to listen to you, maybe you need to listen to them."

Her heart sank. "I thought I could count on you." She hadn't seen this coming, that Jeremy would side with Sam and her parents.

He tilted his head. "You can always count on me. You know that."

She huffed and sank back against the sofa.

"Hey," he said, putting his arm around her again, "all I'm sayin' is, don't be so defensive. Think about it when your emotions aren't runnin' so high. I don't know about Sam, but I know your parents wouldn't make you see a shrink out of the blue unless they were really worried about you—unless they had a really good reason."

She crossed her arms.

He smirked crookedly with amusement and gave her shoulder a couple of quick squeezes. "Just think about it," he said in his laid-back drawl. "That's all I'm sayin'. I'll support you, whatever you decide."

She'd gone to bed not long after that, borrowing a T-shirt from Jeremy to sleep in and staying in his guest bedroom.

"Just think about it," he'd said.

Well, being locked in a dark pantry certainly lent itself to a lot of thinking. She'd been thinking and thinking and thinking until her head hurt right along with her bruised hands. At this point, she would happily embrace Sigmund Freud himself and spill her guts to him if he would let her out of this damn pantry.

She missed the twins and her parents. She missed Sam with his broody eyes and broad shoulders. She wished she hadn't left the farm. Sam was right, at least about how she should have stayed and talked it out with them. Maybe he'd even been right about how she needed to act like an adult, although the comment still rankled.

It wasn't really Sam, though, that had sent her over the edge so much as her dad's threat to strap her on top of the Tahoe. She knew he didn't mean it, but it was the idea behind it that made her furious—the fact that they would force her to see the psychologist against her will if she didn't agree to it.

Still, what if Jeremy was right? What if she wasn't listening to Sam and her parents any better than they were listening to her? What would Other TJ be thinking right now? She would probably be more mature and try to see their side of things.

TJ tried to imagine what it had been like for Sam and her parents before. The eating disorder and the purging had been so severe she'd ruptured her esophagus—she'd landed herself in the hospital, for God's sake—and she knew how much that would have scared and worried her parents. Could she blame them if they were being overprotective and overbearing right now?

Sam had been there through it all. Her mom said he'd visited every day in the hospital, and he and TJ weren't even dating then, just friends. It was a surprisingly comforting thought, and it made TJ feel warm inside to think that he'd been there for her. Maybe she should cut him some slack. After all, Sam—awesome father to the twins, incredibly intelligent, kind, totally hot guy—loved her.

She suddenly got a lump in her throat and felt more than just warm inside. Sam loved her. He'd told her so many times. The meaning of that, the implications of it, were finally sinking in, and she felt an emotion that was overwhelming, that made her heart feel like it might burst. Did the possibility of the demon blood really matter?

She laughed a little maniacally. "What's a little demon blood gonna hurt?" she asked herself aloud. "Didn't bother you, did it, Other TJ?"

God, she must be losing it. She was overwrought and overly emotional and talking out loud to her alter ego. Being locked in a small, dark pantry for hours would do that to a person. She ran her hands through her hair, her ponytail holder long ago discarded and lost in the abyss of her prison.

Was she too thin? She didn't think so, but was that how it had begun before? Obviously, no one chose to be anorexic or bulimic. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She'd actually wished sometimes she could be like those girls who had so much willpower, who could resist temptation and eat nothing, no matter how strong or painful the pull of hunger was. Still, she didn't think she would consciously choose it. Was the eating disorder something that had sneaked up on her and had her in its clutches before she realized what was happening?

She ate the rest of the bag of chips for good measure, just to prove to herself that she could. When she was done, she licked the salt off her fingers and then wiped her hands on her jeans. Now what? She was going crazy in here, all alone with her thoughts.

"Get me the fuck out of here!" she yelled for the hundredth time.

Nothing happened.

She kicked at the door the best she could in her cramped position, but it just jarred her bladder and made her need to pee more.

She wondered where Liv was. Had Liv wondered off from the house? What if she was out on the road, lost and confused? What if she got hit by a car or something? TJ groaned. It would be her fault if something happened to Jeremy's mom.

It was rare that Jeremy ever had time to himself to run errands without having to take his mother with him and worry about her wondering off or having an episode and causing a scene. The only time he wasn't with her was during the week when he was at work and the home care nurse stayed with her. Today was Sunday, and he'd needed to go into Colleyville to pick up some groceries, take a farm implement in for repair, and do some other chores. He'd estimated it would take three or four hours.

Despite the fact that TJ had been ready to go home and see the twins, she'd volunteered this morning to stay with Liv as a favor to Jeremy. At the time, she'd thought it wouldn't hurt to let Sam and her parents stew a little longer. She realized now how childish and petty that was, and, boy, was she paying the price. If she'd gone home when she first woke up like her instincts told her to, she'd be safely at home with the twins and Sam instead of locked in this godforsaken pantry.

Still, how could she have foreseen what would happen? How hard could it be to keep Aunt Liv company and make sure she didn't wander off? Liv had seemed lucid for most of the morning, had only had one episode where she didn't recognize TJ. Her lucidity made her deception all the more painful and shocking.

She'd told TJ she would like soup for lunch, so TJ went to the pantry to look for a can of Campbell's. The next thing she knew, she was pushed into the small space and the door slammed shut behind her. She was so bewildered that she hadn't reacted at first, not even when she heard something being shoved up against the door. By then, it was too late to do anything, and she was stuck.

Liv hadn't said anything—not even demented ramblings explaining what she was doing like crazy people did in the movies. Just nothing.

TJ was jolted out of her thoughts by the melodious doorbell suddenly belting out its song throughout the front of the house. She raised her head, which was lying on top of her arm on a shelf, and banged it on the shelf above her. "Ouch!" She rubbed her temple, wincing a bit.

Pulse quickening with hope, she stood up. "Hello?" she shouted. "Help me!" She was yelling at the top of her lungs. "Help me! I'm in the pantry! Somebody help me!" She repeated it over and over, pounding on the door despite her sore hands.

The doorbell rang twice more and then stopped. The house resumed its cruel silence, and her heart plunged to her stomach with disappointment. She choked out a cry of despair. Whoever it was must have given up, thinking nobody was home.

Several minutes passed, and TJ was about to sink back to her pretzel-like position on the floor when she heard it. She almost sobbed with relief. It was the deep rumble of Sam's voice, and it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

XXXXXXXX

No one answered the door. Dean shot an expectant, arched brow toward Sam. Sam nodded and rummaged in his backpack until he felt the leather case of his lock-picking tools buried in the bottom. He hadn't used them in a very long time, but he always carried them with him. It was too ingrained in him not to.

He'd used the side-wheel method to get up the front steps of the Suggs house in his chair like he had the day he confronted Jeremy. This time, Dean had been there to add backup and help, and Sam made it up the stairs of the front porch fairly quickly, much to Dean's surprised amazement.

They'd rung the doorbell several times, but no one answered. Sam started to pick the lock. Jeremy's truck was gone, but TJ's car was in the driveway. It was possible that someone might be out back, but Sam would have the front door open faster than the time it would take Dean to go around back. In fact, it only took Sam a couple of seconds and he had the door unlocked, carefully pushing it open. The cool interior of the house seemed empty.

The formal living area of the stately old farmhouse was an obstacle course of expensive-looking, elegant antique furniture that Sam tried not to bump his chair into. He listened and watched for signs of the twins or TJ.

Dean was beside him and had pulled his gun out from the back waistband of his jeans. He cocked his head, listening.

"Hello?" Sam called. "Anybody here?"

Suddenly, there was a pounding noise in the vicinity of the kitchen. "Sam?" came a muffled voice. "Help! I'm locked in the pantry!"

Sam shot Dean a look and then pushed himself toward the kitchen. When they entered, Sam saw a stocky, heavy wooden chair tilted up against a door. The back of the chair was wedged underneath the black-iron doorknob.

There was more banging. "Sam, help!" It was TJ, and she sounded frantic.

"TJ, I'm coming. Just hang on."

"Sam?" This time, she said his name through the door with relief, almost reverently.

Dean tried to heave the sturdy chair out of the way, but it was wedged so securely that he had to kick at the legs to get it loose. When he finally opened the door, TJ came spilling out, falling into his arms and hugging him tightly. "Thank the Lord," she drawled, her Kentucky accent thick.

Sam didn't think she really knew or cared who she was hugging at the moment, but he didn't like that it wasn't him. Dean gave him a look over TJ's shoulder that said awkward and returned the embrace, gingerly patting her on the back. Finally, she seemed to get a hold of herself and pulled back, frowning.

"Uh, hi." Dean's innate cockiness was in his voice, but the expression on his face was cautious. "I'm Dean. Your brother-in-law."

She broke completely away, crinkling up her freckles and looking perplexed. "Dean?"

"In the flesh. It's good to see you, TJ."

She stared at him. "You look like your picture."

"Devilishly handsome?" he asked, waggling his brows.

She stared at him another second, not commenting, and then turned her attention to Sam. Considering the argument they'd had last night, Sam was surprised when she leaned down and hugged him hard. He put his arms around her, lost for a second in the familiar smell of her hair and the warmth of her body.

"Oh God, Sam." Her voice was full of emotion. "You don't know how glad I am to see you."

As much as he was glad she didn't seem to be angry with him anymore and as much as he wanted to savor how good it felt to have her in his arms, they didn't have the time. He would give anything not to have to tell her about the twins, but he had no choice. Reluctantly, he placed his hands on her arms and pushed gently until she pulled back a bit. He was about to tell her the news when he noticed a red spot on her temple that looked like the beginning of a bruise. His gut clenched at the thought that Liv might have hurt her and he frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. Nothing a big drink of water and a trip to the ladies' room won't fix."

He brushed his fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

She closed her eyes briefly at his touch, then smiled sheepishly and straightened. "I hit my head on a shelf in the pantry."

"Did Liv lock you in the pantry?" queried Dean.

"Yes," TJ answered, glancing at Dean. Her attention went back to Sam, her gaze filled with worry. "We have to find her, Sam. She's so unstable. I'm afraid she's gonna hurt herself."

Sam caught Dean's eye.

"What?" said TJ. "Why are you two lookin' like that?"

"TJ..." Sam paused, feeling a block of ice forming in his gut at what he was about to tell her. "...the twins are missing."

She paled, freckles standing out against white skin. "What?"

He didn't want to say it, didn't want to admit that he was a freak and his horrific vision had come true. He saw the realization dawn on her face, saw her expression of fear.

"We think Liv took them," said Dean, his tone no-nonsense and brusque. He was in hunting mode now.

TJ put a shaking hand to her mouth. "Oh, God."

"We need you to think, Teej," said Sam. He could see that she was becoming distraught, and he needed her to stay focused and not lose it. "Is there someplace here on the Suggs farm that she might take the twins? We're guessing she's probably on foot, that she couldn't have gone far."

"There's the shed and the tobacco barn," answered TJ. "We should check those places first."

Sam nodded and they went out the backdoor, where there were fewer steps. He bumped quickly down the steps on the back wheels of his chair, hardly even holding onto the rail. They reached the shed first, but after a thorough, quick check by Dean, who said it was empty, they headed to the barn. The barn was well away from the main house and in close proximity to the tobacco fields.

The barn was set on a rise, and Sam pushed hard to make it up the hill, balancing on his back wheels so his front casters wouldn't get bogged down in the hard-packed gravel of the driveway that led to the barn. He held his own, keeping pace with Dean and TJ, fueled by adrenaline and fear. Dean and TJ appeared to be as breathless as he was, and neither noticed Sam's difficulty. He didn't know whether to take satisfaction in that or be irritated. Either way, he was too stubborn to ask for help.

As they neared the barn, Sam could see the white-and-pink blooms of the tobacco plants in the fields. The farmhands employed by the Suggs would begin cutting the blooms by hand tomorrow—same as at the Nelek farm, only with less help—but today was Sunday, and the farms were pretty much deserted of workers.

The tobacco barn was an old, tall, two-story structure that was made of gray, weathered wood. It had two huge, square double doors in front that hung on a track, and Sam could hear the twins' faint, muffled crying coming from somewhere within the barn even before Dean slid the doors open. Sam's pulse started to hammer with a mixture of relief that they'd found the twins and fear of what could be happening to them.

When they entered the barn, it was dim and cool compared to the much warmer temperature of the humid, early-August day outside. The twins' cries pierced Sam to his soul, and he frantically looked around the barn's lofty interior, his heart still pounding.

"Over there," pointed TJ. "The stripping room."

Dean and Sam followed her frantic pace over to a small side door, where a room for stripping tobacco had been added on. The door was locked, but the twins' cries were louder. Sam could hear Liv behind the door trying to soothe them. TJ looked like she was about to call out to Liv, but Sam grabbed her hand and squeezed, shaking his head urgently and signaling with a finger over his mouth that she should be quiet. He didn't want to spook Liv, who was obviously unpredictable. He wasn't taking any chances with the twins.

TJ, her hand trembling in Sam's, got the message and nodded.

Sam dug out his lock-picking tools and quickly unlocked the door, which was obviously newer than the age of the barn itself. TJ raised her brows briefly at Sam's nefarious skill but didn't comment. When Dean drew his gun, her eyes widened.

Dean tried to quietly open the door inward, but the hinges creaked.

"Get out!" Liv yelled from somewhere in the stripping room.

So much for the element of surprise.

Dean was the first to enter the room, followed by TJ and then Sam. "Don't move," barked Dean, pointing his gun at Liv.

Sam clamped down on his wheels with viselike grips as he took in the scene before him. The twins were lying together, side by side, on a yellow blanket with puffy little white lambs printed on it. The blanket was in the middle of a makeshift crib that Liv had made using a pile of loose hay she'd gotten from somewhere. Robby and Sami Joy were both a livid red, crying hysterically, hands fisted and little legs kicking rigidly with fury.

Liv was in the process of picking up a large, double-handled metal pan of what Sam at first thought was boiling water, but the thick, white, acrid billow of smoke coming from it couldn't possibly be water. His blood ran cold when he saw that she had heated the pan on a portable Coleman camping stove, and next to the stove was a very large, empty bottle of cooking oil.

His brain didn't want to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. He knew from what he'd learned in high school chemistry long ago that the smoking point of most oils was well over two hundred degrees Fahrenheit hotter than that of boiling water—and water boiling at two hundred twelve degrees would have been bad enough. If Liv's intention was to pour the oil on the twins, it would kill them. If by some miracle it didn't, they would, at the very least, endure horrible pain and be disfigured for life.

Liv straightened when she saw Sam, Dean, and TJ. She held the pan of smoking oil with what looked like white rags to protect her hands from heat. She backed up a step and hovered over the twins, the pot precariously looming over them. Her face was framed by the white smoke coming from the hot oil, and it made her look like a gruesome apparition instead of a human being.

Sam's heart lurched in a terrifying surge of panic, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain calm. He glanced at TJ and saw that she had gone pale, her fists clenched at her sides.

Liv scoffed at Dean. "I'm not afraid of your gun. God will protect me."

"Dean..." Sam said in warning.

When Dean glanced at him, Sam shook his head. It was too risky. If Dean shot her, she would more than likely drop the pan of scalding oil on the twins. Dean hesitated for a second, clearly reluctant, but then he lowered his gun.

"Aunt Liv," said TJ warily, "what are you doin'?"

Liv looked at her with contempt. "You escaped."

TJ swallowed. "I—I'm sorry." It was clear she wasn't sure what to say, that she didn't want to set Liv off.

Sam's body was coiled tightly, ready to spring. He wanted so badly to tackle Liv and get her away from the babies, but even if he were physically capable of doing that, he was too far away and so was Dean. Besides, there was the chance Liv would panic and spill the oil if she saw Dean charging her.

Sam kept his voice calm and even, belying the fear pumping through his veins. "Mrs. Suggs, what—what are you gonna do with that hot oil?"

Her eyes went to him—insane eyes in the face of a woman who was still attractive for her age, despite her madness. It was incongruous and disconcerting. "I'm gonna baptize these babies," she said self-righteously. "I'm gonna anoint them and cleanse them of the evil they've been exposed to."

TJ drew in a shuddering breath, and Sam felt his heart plunge to his stomach like a boulder. Dean's jaw cemented. Everyone was frozen—held hostage by fear for the babies' lives.

Sam fought to keep a clear head and held up a pacifying hand. "Mrs. Suggs, that will hurt them. I know you don't want to hurt them."

She shook her head. "No. It won't hurt them. It will cleanse them, anoint them with God's blessing, and make them pure again. Jeremy and TJ have been among evil. I'm going to save their souls."

TJ was quiet, but tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"No, ma'am," said Sam respectfully, gritting his teeth in order to keep his emotions in check. "They're just innocent babies. The hot oil will hurt them badly." He swallowed hard and searched her face for any hint he was getting through to her. "It's not Jeremy and TJ. Look at the boy's eyes, Mrs. Suggs. They're different from your son's. Remember?" Sam's voice was imploring, pleading with her to remember.

"I'm not fallin' for that this time," said Liv, shaking her head. "That is my son and TJ." She glanced at "grownup" TJ and then back to Sam. "You and that whore have influenced Ferna Sue and Vern—even Ross. You've brainwashed all of them." Her dark-blue eyes glinted with a fanatical light. "But not me. God has shown me the truth. He has shown me the way."

In Sam's peripheral vision, he saw Dean begin to move almost imperceptibly, easing his gun into the back of his waistband. It was a long shot, but if Dean could somehow get behind Liv, maybe he could disarm her of the oil without too much risk to the twins. Unfortunately, the chances of her not noticing Dean's movement were almost nil, but it was the only chance they had.

Sam's heart thudded. He needed to keep Liv talking, give Dean a chance to get closer. He tried to think, tried to drown out the cries of the twins and the anguish the sound stirred in him, the cold fear he felt at the sight of their angry, helpless, kicking little legs. "Think about it, Mrs. Suggs," he went on, talking loudly over the babies' crying. "Ferna Sue and Vern are good people—God-fearing people. They wouldn't let anyone evil near the twins." He indicated TJ. "TJ and I—"

"That is not TJ!" Liv shouted. "You think I'm blind?" She glanced down at Sami Joy. "That baby right there is TJ." She looked at TJ. "This girl is a whore!"

A sob escaped TJ. "No. Please, Aunt Liv—"

"Don't you call me that!" Liv roared.

TJ flinched.

"I'm not your Aunt Liv!" Her delicate features were twisted with rage.

TJ stared for a second, and then something hardened in her demeanor. She drew her shoulders back and became almost defiant. "You're right, Liv. I'm evil."

Liv tilted her head, intent on TJ, her eyes away from Dean.

"That's right," said TJ. "Can't"—her voice broke—"can't put anything past you, can I?"

Liv's mouth curled into a leer of satisfaction. "So the whore admits to her sins."

"Yes. I want you to cleanse me. I want you to use that oil on me to—to anoint me and burn away my sins."

Sam was horrified at the suggestion, but then Dean inched a little farther away from TJ and Sam. Sam realized that TJ's intent was the same as his—trying to distract Liv from Dean. Liv's hostility seemed to go much deeper toward TJ, and TJ was using that to hold Liv's attention.

Liv looked down at the pot of oil in her hands as if she were contemplating what TJ had said. The oil wasn't smoking anymore, but Sam had no doubt it would still be extremely hot.

"Please, Aunt—please, ma'am," TJ pleaded. "I need you to save me."

Dean moved another step, but he still wasn't close enough.

Liv looked up, her mouth tight with resolve. "No. These babies come first. They have to be saved first. After that, we'll see." She had to yell to be heard over the babies' crying.

"Please," TJ begged. She lost her composure, her face crumpling and a sob escaping her.

"Mrs. Suggs," said Sam, quickly trying to hold Liv's attention away from Dean, who had managed to inch a little bit closer to her, "shouldn't the...baptism be done in a holy place, a church?"

A beatific smile crossed Liv's features. "God has blessed this place. He told me so." She glanced down at the twins. "I even made a manger for them, just like where the baby Jesus lay after he was born."

Dean took advantage of her momentary distraction and made a bigger move, but Liv looked up in time to see him. Everything happened in a flash after that.

"No!" TJ screamed.

Sam was suffused with sickening terror. Suddenly, he couldn't hear or see anything but the pot of oil tilting toward the twins. It was all he could see, and he saw it with laserlike focus: the dark liquid flowing in slow motion over the lip of the pot toward Sami Joy's little trembling fists and Robbie's little legs that kicked out as if he had a chance of defending himself.

A head-splitting, life-draining force of energy, born of pure rage, was sucked out of what felt like every cell in Sam's being, along with his breath. The energy culminated in his chest and burst forth like an invisible, thousand-volt punch of electricity.

The dangerous contents of the pot froze in midair and then scattered into a harmless spray of emulsified droplets that were blown away without hurting anyone. The pot itself, along with Liv, went flying across the room. Both hit a far wall and fell to the floor with loud thuds, the metal of the pot making a whanging sound as it came to rest. Liv lay either stunned or unconscious on the floor from hitting her head on the wall.

Sam's vision grayed, and it was all he could do to stay upright in his chair. He grabbed his wheels to steady himself. It felt like ice picks were being rammed into his skull, the pain worse than anything he'd ever felt after one of his visions. Something trickled from his nose. He tasted the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue when he licked his upper lip. He felt nauseous and woozy. His heart was beating so hard, he felt like he was running a marathon. It was hard to breathe, and he sucked in shallow breaths, trying to get enough air.

TJ ran to the twins and scooped them up, holding one in each arm and hugging them to her. She shushed and crooned, crying right along with them.

Dean approached Liv with wariness, gun drawn again, but she wasn't moving.

TJ looked up from the twins, frowned, and called Sam's name, but he couldn't hear the sound of her voice—only the blood rushing in his ears. Everything seemed to slow down, as if TJ and Dean were moving through a mire of thick air, like the blurry heat waves that rise from the blacktop of a hot desert road.

TJ shouted something at Dean and he turned to Sam, then tucked his gun back into his jeans and ran toward Sam in slow motion.

Sam felt odd, like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, but maybe that was because he couldn't seem to find his balance, no matter how tightly he held onto his wheels. He felt very ill, and the pressure in his head was excruciating.

He couldn't think clearly, couldn't really fathom what was going on around him anymore. He had the urge to laugh like a mad scientist in a horror movie at the absurdity of his life. He might have if he'd had enough breath. The question of whether or not he still had the demon blood and its powers had been answered once and for all, leaving zero room for doubt. He was officially a freak. He would never be normal. Liv's accusations of evil hadn't been so far from the truth, at least where he was concerned.

He looked at TJ and the twins, his intense love for them mixing in his heart with irony and despair. He grimaced, blinded by the pain of it all. And then everything went black.

XXXXXXXX

"No!" TJ screamed, but it was too late.

It all happened so fast. One minute, the world was ending. The harm to the twins was imminent, and TJ's heart stopped and jammed up in her throat. She could see Liv beginning to pour the hot, molten oil over the crying twins.

Sam let out a harsh gasp—a gut-wrenching noise from deep inside him—and the lines of his face were taut with pain.

There was a burst of energy in the room, sort of like a powerful blast of static electricity, that made TJ's hair follicles prickle.

The oil stopped. In midair. Then, unbelievably, the oil changed its course, spraying harmlessly away from the twins.

Liv went flying across the room and hit the wall so hard it knocked her out.

TJ didn't understand what was happening. She was stunned for a split second, but the sight of Robby and Sami Joy's red little faces and the sound of their hysterical wailing spurred her into action. She ran over to them and picked them up, hugging them closely to her chest. "Shhh," she soothed.

She could feel the intense body heat of both babies, a physical manifestation of their acute distress. "Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. Mommy's here." She kissed both their heads, inhaling the scent of them, feeling the softness of their downy hair brushing against her lips. She thanked God they were unharmed and felt warm tears of her own trailing down her cheeks.

It was then that she looked at Sam, and her stomach pitched with alarm. He was paler than she'd ever seen him, as if his blood—his very life—was draining out of him. He was panting, his hands gripping his wheels tightly as if he were trying to maintain his equilibrium, but he was swaying dangerously.

"Sam?" she shouted, her heart beating frantically. "Sam, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her with a dazed, haunted look on his face. He seemed to grow even paler, and she suddenly knew without a doubt he was about to pass out.

"Oh, my God. Dean!" she yelled.

Dean was carrying the gun she'd seen earlier, cautiously approaching Liv. He turned with a questioning look at the sound of his name.

"Something's wrong with Sam!"

Dean's attention instantly focused on Sam, and he tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and ran toward his brother. He reached Sam just as Sam's eyes were rolling into the back of his head and he was starting to topple from his chair. Dean caught him and carefully lowered him to the floor, still keeping Sam in his arms.

"Sammy?" Dean wiped away a trickle of blood from Sam's upper lip with his sleeve, then patted Sam's cheeks, trying to rouse him. Sam's body was completely limp, his head lolling listlessly on Dean's arm. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up." Dean's voice was gruff with worry.

Sam didn't respond.

"Dammit! Come on, Sam!"

TJ rushed over to Sam and Dean, her heart still racing. "Is he—is he breathing?"

Dean hardly spared her a glance. "Yeah, but it's too rapid." He put two fingers on the pulse point of Sam's neck and paused for a second. "His heart's beating too fast. It could be a sign of shock. I'm calling an ambulance."

A cold wave of fear washed through her. She wanted to touch Sam, to beg him to wake up and be okay, but there was no way she was willing to put the twins down. Their cries had turned to little hiccups, but they were far from being completely soothed. Besides, she didn't know if she would ever be able to let them go again after the horror of what had just happened with Liv.

TJ stared at Sam's ashen face. She didn't understand what had happened—or maybe she didn't want to understand what her eyes were telling her brain they'd seen. It was one thing for Sam to talk about his demon power, to say he'd moved things with his mind and had visions, and quite another to see it in action firsthand.

As they waited for the ambulance, Dean kept trying to rouse Sam without success.

TJ gently rocked on her feet with the twins, continuing to soothe them. "Do you—do you know what's wrong with him?"

Dean looked up at her, his brows in a winged vee of concern. "You know about the visions, right?"

She nodded.

"They take a lot out of him, cause him to have migraines, but what happened today..." He trailed off, his eyes settling on Sam's face. "I don't know. I've never seen him react like this. He's never been out this long, but I've never seen him move things like he did today."

Just then, they heard the siren of the ambulance approaching, and Dean's head snapped up in her direction. "Follow my lead. Go along with whatever I say. We can't..." He gave her a direct, meaningful look with eyes that were the same color as Sam's. "We can't tell them what really happened. You understand?"

Again, she nodded. If they told the truth, there was a good chance they'd get hauled off to the psych ward right along with Aunt Liv. TJ glanced at Jeremy's mom, who was beginning to stir, making a faint moaning noise. Not knowing whether to be relieved that Liv didn't appear to be hurt too badly or to be afraid, TJ was glad when she heard the paramedics burst noisily into the barn.

"Hello!" one of the paramedics called.

"In here!" Dean yelled. He pried himself from Sam's side long enough to show the paramedics where Sam was in the stripping room.

Two young male paramedics entered. One started immediately assessing Sam, and one made his way over to Liv. She was awake now, although still dazed. Dean kept a wary eye on her, even as he hovered near Sam.

TJ stood with the twins as far away from Liv as she could get. Dean's weapon was concealed now, but TJ was reassured that, if Liv was suddenly capable of trying something, his gun would be within easy reach.

Dean helped the paramedic load Sam onto an ambulance stretcher, and the paramedic hooked Sam up to a portable monitor. An oxygen mask was placed over his face and an IV started in his arm. The paramedic was saying words like "shock" and asking Dean urgent questions about Sam's medical history and what had happened to him.

All TJ could do was stare at Sam. He looked so still and lifeless, even more vulnerable than he had when he'd been sick with the cold. It was painfully wrong seeing him like this. He usually filled up a room with his quiet, strong presence. The atmosphere was always subtly charged when he was near.

She kept silently willing him to wake up and barely heard the story Dean was telling the paramedics—something about Liv knocking Sam out and Dean, in turn, knocking her out in a struggle to keep her from hurting the twins. The paramedic who was working on Sam, a ruddy-complected guy with short, strawberry-blond hair, looked familiar to TJ. But who didn't look familiar to TJ in Moss Fork?

After a few minutes, Sam's breathing had eased, and she heard the paramedic say that he was stable. The paramedic, whose hands were covered with thin, blue, rubber-looking gloves, carefully examined Sam's head and then frowned. "I'm not seeing any head wounds to your brother's head. Where did you say Mrs. Suggs hit him?"

Dean scowled. "I don't know. It all happened so fast. I think I was in shock at what I was seeing."

The paramedic turned his attention to TJ. "Hey, Nelly."

"Hey," she said, racking her brain for the guy's name.

He smiled faintly. "Pat. Patrick Owens. I was a grade below you at Tucker County High."

"Oh, Paddy Owens!" He'd been a lot chubbier in high school. "I remember you. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you at first. I guess you've probably heard that my memory isn't what it used to be." Of course, she remembered high school, but he didn't need to know the specifics of her amnesia if he didn't know them already.

He reddened and concentrated on examining Sam. "Yeah. I heard."

She nodded toward Sam and his empty wheelchair that was sitting nearby, figuring there wasn't a soul in town who didn't know her story or who Sam was. "Then you probably guessed that's my husband, Sam Winchester." The babies were slipping a little, and she hefted them up to where they were secure again, then nodded toward Dean. "And this is my brother-in-law, Dean Winchester."

She wanted Pat to know that Sam and Dean weren't strangers, that they were part of her family and were trustworthy. She hoped if he knew who Sam and Dean were, he wouldn't have the suspicion of outsiders that folks from small towns often had. He might be more willing to swallow the story Dean had spun for him.

Pat inclined his head toward Dean in acknowledgment.

Dean was still scowling. "Look, can we get the pleasantries over with later? I'd like to get my brother to the hospital."

Pat bristled a bit. "Just hold your horses. I need to get an accurate history of what happened here."

TJ was uneasy. Apparently, Pat wasn't buying what Dean had told him. Dean looked convincingly pissed off, like he'd been wrongly accused of lying.

"Pat," said TJ, looking at Sam with worry, "please. We've told you all we know. Are you sayin' we're liars?" It was one thing to think it, but she knew Pat would never call them liars to their faces. He was a good ol' Kentucky boy at heart, and that wouldn't be polite.

He glanced over to Liv, who was now being helped by his partner. Her eyes were wild and skittish. She was cringing away from the paramedic, who was gently touching the back of her head. He was asking her questions, but she wouldn't answer. All she could seem to do was mumble incoherently.

"I'm sure you know about Liv's...illness," TJ suggested quietly.

Pat stared at TJ for a long moment and then finally nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "All right. Nate," he called to his partner, "let's get 'em loaded."

TJ watched a deathly pale, unconscious Sam be wheeled from the room. She tried not to think about what might be inside him that had made him capable of flinging Liv across the room without ever touching her. Closing her eyes, TJ lifted up another prayer that Sam would be okay—and hoped that God would still listen.

TBC