I was awed by the response to the last chapter, figuring that I had pushed all my readers away with the almost month wait… Thank you all for your support it does a heart good.

I was reading through the reviews and found it kind of funny that only one person guessed right on who Dean was calling.

But anyway, onto the next chapter, happy reading!

XXXX

'Just stay away from the white light
I'll tell you what side's your best side
I never heard anyone
I never listen at all'

Polyamorous – Breaking Benjamin

XXXX

"Dean, honey, what's wrong?" The question made him draw back, forgetting for a moment that the woman could sense what he was thinking.

"It's Sammy, Missouri." He paused, floundering for words before settling on, "His powers are all out of whack, and I… I need your help." His voice lowered at the end, his attention refocusing on his unconscious little brother lying still on the bed.

"Okay, calm down Dean, do you want me to come to you, or do you want to come here?" Dean blanked on the question. Here or there? His mind supplied for him after a moment, making him feel stupid for not comprehending it sooner.

"Uh- there," Dean answered, "We'll come to you; we're only about a day out." Dean turned and looked at the clock, noting absently that it was around seven pm and that if he started out now and drove all night he would get to the psychic's house around three thirty or four in the morning.

"Okay honey, we'll see you around four." With that there was an audible click as the older woman hung up the phone. Dean shook his head and smiled ruefully, almost looking forward to seeing the temperamental black woman. Seconds later his phone buzzed with the warning of a text message.

'I am NOT temperamental!'

Outright laughing Dean closed the phone. He sobered instantly when his gaze fell on Sam, and set his sights on packing the room and getting them out of there and to Missouri, who hopefully would be able to help them.

Throwing the shirts and the few pair of jeans they had taken from their duffle bags haphazardly back into the bags, Dean walked into the bathroom and scooped their toiletries into the small overnight bag and zipped it shut.

By the time Dean had taken all of their bags out to the car and returned to the room to rouse Sam, it was quarter after seven. Rousing Sam wasn't as hard as Dean thought it would be, his brother waking with only a gentle shaking of his shoulder.

Sam was squinting with what looked like a migraine, and Dean was ready, two Advil liquid gels in the palm of his left hand and a glass of water in his right. Sam graciously accepted the pills, and though Dean knew Sam's migraine meds would have done a better job managing the pain, his brother had taken the last two the night before.

Sam said nothing about the lack of painkillers, just accepting Dean's help as he led him out to the Impala, not even asking where they were headed. He just sat quietly in the passenger seat, leaning his head against the cool window, his eyes drooping over ringed bruises that lined his bottom lashes.

Dean prayed it was exhaustion and not something more serious that kept his brother quiet, but said nothing, turning on the '67 classic and pulling out of the motel parking lot.

XXXX

It was around midnight when Sam jerked in the passenger seat and groaned, raising his hands to his head and fisting them tightly in his hair. His fingers white knuckled and he jerked again, this time the steering wheel jerking with him, sending the brothers onto the shoulder and spraying gravel everywhere.

Dean pressed the brakes and tried to guide the car to a stop as Sam whimpered and jerked again and the metal of the Impala's frame groaned. Dean's eyes widened and he got out the car as soon as it had stopped, idly noting the indentations in the doors as if something had pulled the metal into itself.

Dean ran around the car, skidding on the gravel as he pulled Sam's door open, moving fast to catch his little brother as he tumbled out without the support. Sam moaned at the contact, whether Dean was hurting him or it was just from the pain in his head, the older Winchester didn't know.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, pushing Sam up enough so his could look at his brother's face. "Sammy, c'mon little brother, fight this."

Sam's face had blanched away what little color it had gained since Dean had woken him earlier. His teeth were clenched tightly, his nostrils flared, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut against the pain.

"Hurts," Sam managed to whimper out, panting breathlessly through his teeth.

"I know Sammy, I know." Dean soothed absently, squeezing Sam's shoulder as a tremor wracked his frame and the tree the Impala had stopped next to, groaned. "I need to knock you out for a while, little brother, just until I can get you someplace safe." Sam's eyes cracked open at the soft words and through the agony and fear lacing them, Dean could see his agreement.

Nodding, Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder once more, before standing and moving to open the trunk. Grabbing the med-kit, Dean grabbed the cylinder of sedative and a needle. Filling the syringe, he dropped the rest of the sedative back into the case and moved back to Sam.

"M'sorry, Sammy." Sam looked back at him, no blame in his eyes, and then clenched his eyes through another spike of pain, the largest branch of the tree next to them cracking and falling to the ground.

Forcing himself not to look at the tree, Dean pushed Sam's shirt up and pushed the needle into the muscle of his bicep plunged the meds home. It took a moment, but finally, slowly, Sam slumped, his face evening out and his body going lax.

Scrubbing a hand harshly over his face, Dean maneuvered Sam back into the passenger seat and closed the door. Bracing himself with a hand on the top of the Impala, Dean sighed and leaned against the car, breathing deeply for a minute before making his way back to the driver's side and sliding in the seat.

Turning the key, he put the car in drive and pulled away from the shoulder. He reached over and settled his right hand in the crook where Sam's shoulder met his throat, carefully avoiding looking at his brother the whole time, not wanting to see his usually strong little brother so weak and worn.

C'mon little brother, you can get through this.

XXXX

Shutting off the engine, Dean leaned back against the leather seat, dropping his head back and shutting his eyes. A minute later he straightened and reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the button on the side and looking at the time.

3:48 a.m.

The neon green numbers glared at him until he looked away and turned his attention to Sam. His brother sat obliviously in the seat next to him; his body slumped uncomfortably in unconsciousness.

Seeing Sam so vulnerable made Dean's stomach knot.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, Dean grabbed his keys from the ignition and opened his door. Standing from the seat, Dean groaned and stretched his arms over his head, leaning back and cracking his stiff back. He had driven through the night only stopping twice, once for Sam and the other for gas, not wanting to waste any time in getting to Kansas.

Didn't think I'd ever say that. Dean thought to himself, with a small quirk of his lips.

Looking back at Sam one more time to make sure he was okay, Dean looked up at the house he had parked in front of. Walking up to the door was easier than he thought it would be, with all that had gone on the last time he had been there.

The door opened before he could knock, and he was greeted with Missouri's anxious face. "Oh, you poor boys." She said quietly before reaching out and pulling Dean into a hug. Dean sunk into the comfort, needing it more than he thought he had.

It took a moment, but when Dean finally pulled away his eyes were red.

"I don't know what to do."

XXXX

A/N: Man I'm getting evil again, it was like the when I first started writing Supernatural, a cliff hanger or a major emotional scene ending each chapter… YAY!

C'mon, yah'all know that it's fun to write this stuff… You love it! You know you do.

So let me know what you think.

Take care,

DS