Hey guys… So no excuses, with the exception of a lot of tests, and work… (Does that count as a good excuse?? Does college go before fic? I dunno, that's a hard decision! I need to ponder…)

So anyway… I own nothing, just the deranged illusions my muse thinks up for its playtime with Sammy… Poor guy.

On to the next chapter.

Enjoy!

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'Something missing
Left behind
Search in circles
Every time I try
I've been here before
I've seen you before
I can't escape winding down these halls
Hard to find a place where there are no walls
And no lines begging me to cross
Only straight ahead better move along'

These Walls – Trapt

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Missouri had been sifting through Sam's mind for over two hours before she finally bobbed her head up and smiled in satisfaction. "There you are," she whispered, and Sam looked at her in confusion.

"There what is?" he prompted, wanting to know just what it was she had found in his mind. In the corner, Dean stood straighter, also listening in.

"I found a sort of, wall if you will." She said slowly, still concentrating on the task of sifting through Sam's mind. "It's what is causing the outbursts of power you've been having."

"Wait, but wouldn't a wall stop the outbursts?" Dean asked, pushing himself off the wall and ambling over to the other two. He looked almost as confused as Sam felt, neither man understanding how a wall would cause outbursts and not stop them.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Missouri muttered thoughtfully, finally pulling back from Sam's mind and looking at both Winchesters before her. "See the mind is a funny thing, though. With the wall there, trying to block Sam's natural powers, it's hurting him, trying to push back something that's supposed to be there."

Both men nodded, but neither looked like they fully understood just what she was saying. She sighed and went on.

"When Sam went up against Samhain, the pain his powers brought with them created the wall, a natural defense against anything seeming to cause harm to it. Therefore it threw up the wall in front of something that is supposed to happen naturally." At the thoroughly lost looks on both Sam and Dean's faces, she wound her hands together on her lap and continued.

"Sam's powers are fighting to get through the wall, and the longer said wall is standing, the more power is building up behind it, and the more power, the bigger the explosion will be at the end." She paused, thinking, before, "The bigger and more damaging the explosions of power will be on the way to breaking the down that wall." Sighing she added, "If that wall doesn't come down, or if it doesn't come down fast enough, it will kill Sam."

When she took a look at both men Sam was nodding and resigned, while Dean had paled considerably and looked as if he wanted to throw up. She had known that the information would be hard on both Winchesters, but seeing the actual reactions brought a heavy weight down on her heart.

"But," she said, standing and raising a placating hand, "we're going to make sure it doesn't come to that." She gave them a smile, one that seemed tight even to her, and patted Sam on the shoulder before walking from the room.

"Well, ah, that kinda sucks." Sam said, throwing a glance and a small smile at Dean.

"That's not funny," Dean said a rueful smile quirking his lips.

"No, I guess not." Sam's voice was quiet, and the breath he let out was long and shaky, telling Dean just how hard the news had hit him.

Dean just gave him a strained smile, not sure what to say, and squeezed the shoulder his hand lay on.

XXXX

Missouri had been in her room since she had finished poking around in Sam's head that morning and neither man was apt to bother her, preferring instead to stay in the living room and what TV. Sam had dozed off within the first two hours, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts for the last three.

His thoughts weren't painting a pretty picture.

Most of them revolved around the 'what if' possibility of Missouri not figuring out a way to help Sam before his mind caught up to him and killed him. Most of the pictures weren't serene or soft either, leaving the oldest Winchester fighting to keep the food he had eaten earlier that day down.

He wasn't ready to see anything quite like the images displaying themselves in high definition in his mind. That had been the whole point of him going to hell in the first place, to save Sam from death and hurt.

Fat lot of good that did.

He didn't doubt that he had done the right thing in going to Hell, but that didn't make what was happening with Sam now any easier to deal with. He wouldn't doubt that it didn't make the whole thing worse.

He had already seen Sam die once; there was no way he would do it again.

There was no way he could do it again.

XXXX

Somewhere in the fourth hour of reruns of Miami Vice, Sam twitched in his sleep, making Dean, who had been intently forcing himself to watch the show, jump.

The elder Winchester turned to look at the Sam, trying to gauge whether he was having a nightmare, or if his powers were about to go haywire again. When Sam moaned and tossed his head, brow furrowing and lips turning down in a frown, but nothing in the house broke, Dean decided it was the former.

Sam twitched again, this time rolling his head toward Dean; the older man reached a hand over and placed it on Sam's shoulder. What was meant as a motion of comfort caused Sam's eyes to shoot open, and he jerked back and out of reach, the umbrella rack from in front of the door lifting to fly and embed itself into the TV.

Sparks and glass flew as Dean stared at his brother.

The younger of the two looked at Dean in bewilderment before listing to the side, closing his eyes and whimpering. His hands reached up to fist in his hair, and he curled in on himself, away from Dean.

Not again. The thought was automatic, but Dean pushed it aside, already reaching for Sam as his brother keened and the banister on the stairs broke in three places.

When Dean looked back to Sam from the stairs, blood ran in thick rivulets down the younger man's face, the crimson starkly evident against Sam's pale skin and almost bloodless lips. He hoisted the younger man up against his chest, forcing Sam's head back against his shoulder as he reached for the Kleenex on the table.

When he turned to the younger man again, Sam was gasping, the air he managed to draw in not enough for his seemingly starved lungs. His eyes opened, but only whites showed as they rolled back into head. The tendons in his neck pulled taught, his jaw clenched, and his whole body tensed.

Before Dean knew what was happening, Sam was convulsing in his arms. He froze, all his training going out the window, as he watched his little brother seizing in front of him.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when one of Sam's convulsions sent the back of his head into Dean's nose; hard enough to bruise badly, if not break entirely.

Dean ignored the pain and the blood in favor of getting Sam onto the floor and into the recovery position, holding his head steady, and screaming for Missouri.

XXXX

A/N: So okay, that wasn't the best place to end it, huh? Well call me evil, but you all know it'll be worth it in the end… I hope.

And I hereby tell you all that Munchies are evil…. They get you all addicted, and you're all happy eating them, and then poof, you reach in the bag and there's nothing left! NOTHING! I have to wait till tomorrow to go out and get more too… Oh the misery!

Cries…

Take care,

DS