(This chapter you're going to see a lot of italicizing. If you haven't read any of my other chapters or stories, that means a dream, a memory or the "other" line on a phone call. Sooo… yeah fair warning.

And I didn't quite make it to the 4000 word mark. But everything fit so neatly that it's just going to be a few hundred short. Ya'll can handle that right. I'm working on 17 now so hopefully by next Saturday I can catch up, and be a little ahead of myself.

ANNDD of course I have to thank everyone who reviewed. lenail125 and FriendlyTuesday you are beautiful beautiful '67 Chevy Impala's. 'N doncha forget it.)

Chapter Sixteen

Sam opened his eyes and he was gone from the room he'd been in previously. Now he was in a narrow hallway with painted on doors. They were all different patterns and different shapes, but they were the same dull grey pallet. The walls had picture frames that hung empty. The only door that lead out was at the end of the hallway. It hung open and very real looking with vibrant blue paint on the door. He had to get to it, leave whatever bizarre place this was.

He started at a walk towards the door. It didn't take him long to realize that he was getting no closer to the end. It was an endless hallway. The more he walked the duller, painted doors he passed but the vibrant, blue door at the end of the hallway stayed the exact same distance. In a panic Sam sped up. He lengthened his walk, and his breath caught in his chest. The way out kept moving he couldn't get out. He didn't even know where he was.

Speed walking turned to running. Full speed running towards the door. The door designs kept passing and blurring as he rushed towards the little blue door. His run startled to a walk when the lights in the hallway shut off and the door at the end of the hall was the only thing illuminated. He picked up to the same speed he had reached before though rather quickly. His impulse read to reach the door.

"Why?" A man's voice echoed loudly from seemingly nowhere.

Sam startled again this time to a stop. He looked up at the ceiling. He looked down to the floor. He looked around at the painted doors. "Who's there?"

"Why do you want to go to the door?"

Sam paused his thoughts why did he want to go to the door? He thought hard about why, when the impulse to want to make it to the door increased. "I need to get out." He simply screamed. "I need out. I need to get out."

"Why?" The voice pressed. "Why do you need to get to the door? Did something tell you to?"

Sam ignored the voice. He pumped his arms and raced towards the impossibly reached door. Sweat poured from him. He had to make it. He needed to make it.

"Okay, I'm calling it." A second, different voice echoed in the space. "Stop let him go."

Sam gasped and lurched forward in the chair the momentum from his mind seeming to infused in his own muscles. He breathed heavily his chest rising and falling wildly as he looked around the room getting together his bearings.

"Hey, sugar." A hand lightly touched his shoulder and he leapt away from the touch. He spun and faced the danger. It was Missouri. His mind switched to the second person in the room a man with graying hair and a sad expression on his face.

"Sorry. It-" Sam inhaled a large breath again. "I forgot what we were doing."

The man stood up. "That's the point, Sam. You're supposed to repel me, not give in to my wishes."

"This is the second time, Fred." Sam put a palm to his aching head, ignoring his hand getting slick with his own sweat. "I've not done this before. This is- new."

Missouri reached down and gripped the water bottle she'd placed there before the beginning of the practice. She pressed it into Sam's free hand and nudged it in an urgency to drink it. "Jones. He's right, it's something that'll come later. Right now you have much more practice than he's ever gotten. We'll try this again." When the man didn't move away her eyes flashed. "Later Jones. We can't push him like this. He needs breaks too."

"His mind needs to practice. He's too dangerous without it." Fred argued.

"You are not too old that I can put you over my lap." Missouri snapped.

He looked shocked up until a wicked grin crossed his face. "Would you Missouri?"

"Why you cheeky." Missouri smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Out. Out now. MR. Jones."

The man walked away grumbling to the kitchen, however the cheeky grin did not leave his face. Sam watched him leave and deflated. "He's right. I should have taken you up on the offer to train when you first put it out as an option. Maybe I wouldn't be such a bother."

"You are not a bother." Missouri soothed. "And you are getting there. How long did it take for you to physically reach your father's goals?"

"You know already." Sam raised an eyebrow. The second the thought about his 12th birthday she got the image of his father proudly telling him that he was ready to go on a hunt. Of course Dean had paled. As proud as his big brother was of the situation he was beyond worried as well about it.

Missouri grinned. "Point being you were in your double digits. You don't wake up one morning and find that you suddenly can juggle. It takes practice; years' worth of practice."

"I don't have years to practice." Sam spat. The urge to run pulsed through his veins. "I have this demon coming after me and my family and I can't let him near. He has to leave me alone. And all these things awakening in me I have to control them or they'll control me."

"Seriously, child. Drink the water." She waited until Sam had twisted off the cap and taken a large dose. It gave off a slight minty and lemony scent, and Sam wrinkled his nose his nostrils flaring. He'd been exposed to more herbs since he'd realized the demon had been attacking in his dreams and was becoming weary of them. Her entire being felt for him. "Just some lemon balm. I gave you a small dose to help calm."

Sam nodded and inhaled a little softer and slower this time. "It's helping."

"Natural sedative." She motioned to the chair. "We already mentioned boy, that this is a crash course. We don't expect you to pick up on it immediately, we just need you to pick up on the basics. The way your power is showing you should become a natural at controlling the impulses yourself."

"That's not what Fred seems to think." Sam put his free arm over his knees and dangled his hand off.

"Jones is a pushy know it all psychic who is impatient and cheeky as hell." Missouri picked up her tone so it would float across to the kitchen. The faint response of witch seemed to echo back. "He means well though. There was a time when he wasn't in control of what he had. Cost him someone near and dear. Now he sees you and he doesn't want that to happen."

Sam shifted and capped the water to put it off to the side. He sighed and ran a heavy hand through his hair. "It's just I know what this is doing to Dean…"

"The separation?" Missouri didn't get a clear read on his meaning.

"That and not being able to help me; with this at least. I had a problem in school I went to Dean; educational or otherwise. I needed advice on a girl I went to Dean. I needed cloths or food…" Sam cut off his meaning clear. "I want this part over so he doesn't feel useless anymore. Then maybe I can feel normal like my family-" He'd never imagined in a million years that he'd want that kind of normalcy. He'd take hunting over being hunted by a demon and possessing freakish abilities any day.

Missouri cocked her head to the side. "You are not jealous are you Sam Winchester?"

"What? No- I-" Sam groaned. "Jealous isn't the right term. I just don't wish this on anyone else, most of all myself."

"Life isn't a fairy tale. We get the cards we're dealt and we deal with them. Now I know it's not fair. I know what it's like to not have normal and want it. In school kids didn't want to play with me because I was weird. It took a long time but I embraced what I was." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Use what you have, baby. Be a benefit to the world with the abilities you possess."

Sam gave the woman a thin smile. "Thanks." He opened his mouth to talk more but snapped it shut when his phone went off. He reached down and looked at the caller ID. Dean.

He'd been calling his brother every morning, keeping the big worry wart updated with every breath and every mental and physical practice he'd endured the five days he'd been there. So far it had been all mediation the mental simulations had been added just the day before. He could tell his brother missed him but there was no reason for his brother to call again. Unless he needed more help with the case he was on for his ex-girlfriend.

"Dean?" Sam questioned the second he'd picked up the call. "Is everything-?"

"No time." Dean interrupted. "Hallowed ground- when a spirit crosses hallowed ground-"

Sam felt all worry about his abilities go away. It sounded like Dean and Bobby were in trouble. "It dissipates, it gets destroyed. Or at least it should."

"Should?" Dean breathed harshly.

"Very high chance of it being destroyed." Sam corrected himself. "Like 90 percent."

"And what if it's an old church. Something burned down years ago?"

Sam figured Dean was meaning the church that the spirit, Cyrus had burned down those years ago. Unless there was something his big brother hadn't mentioned. "Hallowed ground is hallowed ground. So long as the church once stood there-" The call ended and Sam pulled the phone immediately away from his face to avoid the dial tone. "Well he's at the tail end of the case. He's using his urgent tone." Sam looked over at Missouri his concern reading clearly.

"Don't worry. Your brother and uncle are very capable of taking care of this."

xxxOOOxxx

"You don't seem very capable of helping me out here, Winchester." Bobby growled into the phone. He'd been hung up on twice now and with a big black ghost truck on his ass. He'd already been rammed twice. "If You hang up on me again I will poison the chili."

"Shut up, you already do. I need to know where you are."

Bobby wished the kid was in front of him so he could slam his head into the wheel at least once. Gently. Well semi-gently. "You mean besides on a backroad chased by a ghost truck?"

"What street are you passing by?"

"I don't know. I haven't been stopping to watch the scenery." Bobby growled. He tightened his hand on the wheel.

"Well find out, old man." Dean growled back.

Bobby looked at the large truck looming behind him. He pressed on the gas and looked forward again for a sign; any sign. He locked eyes a street sign as it was illuminated by the trucks bright beams. "Deccatur Road; about two miles off the highway." He glanced at the truck behind him again. "Headed east. So what's the big plan?"

The truck sped up and bumped into the side of his bumper nearly causing him to lose control of his car. He'd have to pound out dents later on his car. He listened intently to the silence and grew angry.

"Now would be nice, princess." Bobby's patience was lost.

Apparently their spirit, Cyrus Dorian, was a racist truck driving maniac who had killed many black men 40 years ago. He had gone on a lynching spree after he found out his ex-girlfriend, Cassie's mother, had left him for a black man, Cassie's father. What burned him even more was that she had been seeing him while they were still together. The last man taken in the spree was Cassie's father, Martin Robinson. His reign of terror ended when Martin retaliated and instead killed Cyrus. In a panic, he had called his friends and they had hidden the body in the truck and sunk it in the swamp. Years later the mayor, someone who aided in the cover up, destroyed the man's home causing the spirit to awaken and get his revenge. Now everyone was dead except the woman who had scorned him and the daughter of the product.

Which was why Dean and Bobby had dragged out the truck from the swamp and burned the body found inside. After it had dried of course. Only it hadn't done the job it had merely pissed off Cyrus Dorian and that was why Bobby's Chevelle was being dented in a high speed chase.

Dean finally responded. "Just gimmie…wait okay. I have it. Take the next right."

Bobby eyed the next turn and knew he would be taking at neck breaking speed. "Okay." He pressed the phone between his knees and put both hands on the wheel. He twisted hard and turned sharply pointing his car now south. "Taken, now what?"

"You see another road ahead?"

Bobby didn't. "No." He kept his eyes peeled though as he tracked the progress of the massive truck. Despite the light casting disturbing shadows on the road he was finally able to see the unlabeled road that sat perpendicular. "Yes. I see it now."

The truck gained speed and matched Bobby's own nearly side by side now. He gritted his teeth.

"You'll want to make a left."

"What?" Bobby growled. How on earth was he going to do that? "I have him ON my left. How am I supposed to do that?"

"Do it!"

He died on this shitty stretch of road and he'd haunt the kid's ass till kingdom come. "Okay." He waited until he was on the crossing road and pressed hard on his gas. He watched as the truck sped passed and he turned nearly losing control of his car again. He inhaled only once he'd picked up the same speed he'd had before. "Now what?"

"Go seven-tenths of a mile. Exactly that." Dean informed his uncle.

Bobby squinted at the skeletal shape of a building up ahead. "The building? Is that-? That's the church...aint it boy?"

"Yes." Deans sounded relieved. The plan was clear to his uncle.

He drove his car into the space that once had been the small church. He killed the engine and opened his door half putting his body out to look around for the truck that hadn't seemed to follow him on the turn. "I don't see him yet."

"Stay where you are."

"I'm not stupid." Bobby growled. He startled when the truck reappeared from the direction he had come. He faced the truck not balking as it revved the engine. "I take it there was no way to burn the truck?"

Dean sounded nervous. "Did you think there would actually be a way to accomplish that? You must be delusional. The truck kill you yet?"

"Not yet." Bobby stated dryly. "He's mad though." Mad that they had burned his body. And to prove he was the car shot forward and rushed towards Bobby. It took every ounce of knowledge that he was safe inside the church to not turn tail up and run.

The car didn't stop as he rushed forward and Bobby inadvertently shut his eyes. And the truck hit the space where the church once stood and dissipated into a cloud of smoke. Bobby opened his eyes in time to see the cloud around him lift up. The phone he'd been clenching on his side nearly fell with relief. The chance of him getting out of the situation alive had been high but he still couldn't help but feel worried.

Once he'd pressed his phone to his ear he heard Dean on repeat asking if he was okay. He inhaled and finally spoke to calm the boy's nerves. "Ease up. I'm still breathing, and all limbs are intact."

"Thank God. I thought I had killed you with my plan."

"You may have well nearly killed me. You hung up on me twice, and kept me hanging how long between the calls?"

"I called Sam to double check my plan would work and I called Cassie to get the location of the church. I saved your ass."

"Saved my ass? You could have saved my time. I knew that hallowed ground would have that effect. Why didn't your fool brain ask me?"

"I didn't think about that."

"You foolish- moronic-"

"You're the one who hopped in the car and told me to burn the truck. The truck that has been sitting in a swamp for the last 40 years. I mean it took two hours for the body to be ready to burn, so a truck takes what thirty minutes? Who is the real foolish moron here?"

xxxOOOxxx

"So everything is good?" Sam asked his tone clearly anxious. He stirred around his coffee and tried to ignore the overly large plate of blueberry pancakes that Missouri had placed in front of him. He was trying to ignore her glare for not touching them too but that was turning into a losing battle. "I mean you got off the phone with me and never called back."

He heard Dean chuckle, but his tone held exhaustion and regret. "You sound like a girl. Chill Samantha, I needed some facts and you gave them beautifully. Ghost truck is dead. I've saved the damsel-" Dean paused and Sam couldn't account for why until he continued. "-and Cassie and everything is perfect."

Bobby's growl wasn't missed. Neither was the threat of leaving 'his sorry idjit butt on the side of the road and letting him walk all the way home.'

Sam couldn't hide the sarcasm in his tone. "Perfect huh?"

"Yes, perfect." Dean paused. "Well, perfect is a pretty big stretch for us. I'd say in one piece and not killed by a racist spirit controlling a ghost truck."

"And Cassie?" Sam glanced over at Fred who was wolfing down the food he'd received. For an old man he was pretty active.

"Cassie is safe." The regret overtook his exhaustion.

Sam thinned his lips and felt sorry for his brother. "You said bye again. Didn't you. Came over saw her again and told her goodbye."

"Sam. We ain't girls and you are not doing my hair or nails. So I am not discussing feelings right now." Dean bit out.

Sam was right though. He knew it. Dean had shown up in Missouri, the state, and seen her again. Feelings had risen…they probably had sex, and Dean had left her. Probably for good. The trouble they were having within the family wasn't something that a special woman needed to be dragged into.

"I'm sorry."

"Sam you don't stop this chick flick now I swear I will hang up." Dean's tone rose, and Sam could hear Bobby stop his tuneless humming to chuckle. He could only imagine the glare Dean gave his uncle.

"Okay okay. What do you want to discuss, mom?" Sam grinned. "Oh sorry the regular discussion, right? I've had a glass of water, and a healthy bowel movement today. Oh and I brushed my teeth. The top, bottom, the back of my teeth; oh then, get this, I flossed. How friggen' cool is that?"

"No breakfast?"

"Missouri gave me some, but I really don't feel like-"

"You will eat your breakfast." Dean stated firmly. It was the same authoritative tone he had used on him every time Sam did something disagreeable. "You are too skinny as it is. Hand the phone to Missouri, I'll get her to make you eat."

Sam looked up and saw Missouri's eyes narrowed at him. He tried not to laugh at the splotch of pancake batter on her cheek. When she was serious, she was serious. She had once whacked Dean with a wooden spoon when he had started eating before she'd placed everything on the table. Dean had bruised. "Chill. She's already giving me the death stare."

Fred looked up casually from his plate. "She'll go for the spatula next. It'll not only sting but it's been against the oven so it's hot."

Sam rolled his eyes. He cut into the massive stack and took a large bite. "Phere phu apphe ow?" Sam knew Dean didn't need translation.

"Please don't tell me food is flying out of your mouth right now just so you can make a statement." Dean sounded irritated now. Oh yeah his mother hen was definitely showing. "Whatever, so long as you eat what she gives you then I don't have a complaint."

"It's like-" Sam took the precious seconds to count. "-five pancakes. Who can eat five huge pancakes?"

Dean snorted. "Your height and weight Sasquatch, you should eat that and a side of bacon."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Please. It's too much. And just so you know; not everything in life can be solved with bacon, Dean."

"You take that back, you girly haired bitch!"

"Make me, Jerk." Sam completed.

"Okay! Sam eat your breakfast." Missouri clucked as she plucked the phone from his hand. She pressed it to her ear and rolled her eyes down at Sam as she nudged the plate. "I've got to train your brother, and you two arguing isn't making that possible, so hang up Dean!" Dean must have said something rude because she scowled and shut the flip phone. She dropped the phone on the table and steadied Sam with a glare.

"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Sam raised his hands in defeat and cut into the ridiculously large stack.

She studied Sam before nodding and walking away. Fred looked over at Sam and nudged his plate silently towards him. Sam forked one of the pancakes onto the plate and was prepared to stick on a second, but stopped the second the woman started speaking. "Good, second your finished you can start meditating. Oh and one more pancake leaves your plate Sam and I am whacking you with my spatula, you too Jones."

(Like it, leave a review, or drop a PM. I would love to hear what you have to say. Oh and advise me on any mistakes. I already caught myself stuffing cloths not clothes into Dean's duffle the other chapter. Geeze it irritates me whenever I make mistakes.

More training next chapter I promise, and ooohh do I have a doozie of a revelation for you. I didn't even think up of the idea until I started typing it out.)