"Bobby!" I huffed down the basement stairs.

His head shot up. Wide blue eyes and a beard emerged from the shadow of a worn baseball cap. He'd been reclined against a wall, dozing away the long hours of his shift watching over Robo-Sam. We'd chained my brother to a cot inside a reinforced steel and iron panic room with a ventilation grill protected by high-voltage grating. Sammy's no-soul shell had tried to gank Bobby in an act of fratricide—Bobby was the closest thing we had left to a father—hoping the stain of such a sin might prevent the return of his soul.

Sure, putting the glow back in Sam's smile might kill him dead. Or what remained of him. But the soulless dick rotting on that cot wasn't my brother, so quite frankly, I didn't give a damn.

"Open the door." I panted.

"What happened?"

"Now!"

The old man hopped to in a flash of camo-sweater and blue jeans. The giant door creaked open, revealing a chamber you'd more likely expect to find on a submarine than beneath a retired mechanic's junkyard.

"Get away from me!" thrashed Robo-Sam.

Death had already swooped to his side. All I could do was stand with Bobby, watching the horror flick unfold and trying not to piss my undies too badly.

"No don't," Robo-Sam pleaded, "don't!"

Vulture-face perched on the edge of the cot and pried open an antique doctor's bag—you know, the kind that looks like a cross between a suitcase and a purse. Pure, white light blazed like a miniature sun.

One thing's for sure. Seeing a soul raw is pretty awe-inspiring.

"Now Sam," Death cooed, "I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind."

"Don't you touch me!"

"It might feel a little...itchy."

Soulless Sam gazed toward me with pleading eyes. Sayonara, douche-bag. Time to get my brother back. Sammy's coming home.

"Do me a favor Sam," Vulture-face reached into his bag, "don't scratch the wall." He paused. "Because trust me, you're not gonna like what happens."

"Please," Robo-Sam begged, "don't do this!"

The soul pulsated in Death's hand.

"No! You don't know! You don't know what'll happen to me! Dean! Please!"

Vulture-face pressed the light down on Robo-Sam's chest.

"No, no, no!"

Then came the sound of peeling flesh. And the scream. My knees buckled. I gripped the wall. My eyes burned. Louder and louder. God, the pain in that holler. My brother's pain. Vomit stung at my tongue. I swallowed. Bobby's hand was on my back.

I don't remember much after that. All I can say is, something went wrong. I think I saw a shadow streak across the wall, which was odd considering all the light. I can't be sure. Death got that classic deer-in-the-headlights look. He must've seen it too. A fierce wind picked up and thrust me down hard. I don't know where Bobby went. It was complete and total whiteout, like in a blizzard. Cold too. I wouldn't've been able to spot horse-shit on my eyelids. My screams spiraled into a piercing, ringing noise, then subsided. I was falling, even though I was on the ground.

That was one freaky-ass feeling.