(Souless666 thanks for the review!)

Chapter Eighteen

Sam opened his eyes and startled. He was in a narrow hallway. How he had gotten there he wasn't sure, but the doors along the hall were the same grey pallet only painted on, all bearing different designs. His hand scraped a simple one, one boasting the number 225 a dent painted in the middle. The next was much more elegant with swirls and little delicate leaves 'carved' on it. Where was he? Sam took the time to look around and get his bearings before he panicked.

"THE BLUE DOOR."

The voice nearly made Sam jump. He spun around and found at the end of the lengthy hallway was a door. Unlike the others it was a vibrant blue, very real, and very open. It was the way out.

Sam started to walk forward. He must make it to the blue door. His feet picked up speed and he started at a stumbling run once he realized he wasn't getting any closer.

Then he completely stopped.

"What are you doing?! Go to the blue door!"

Oh goodness, every ounce of him wanted to run towards the door. But he started questioning the reality around him. A hallway with painted doors? And very clearly he wasn't making headway on the blue door. No matter how far he went the door remained the same distance. Why was he running uselessly for something he couldn't accomplish?

Sudden pain in his head nearly knocked him over, and the mad impulse to run towards it invaded every poor, every ounce of his being.

"I SAID THE DOOR!"

"Why?" Sam finally asked pressing a hand to his head. "Why do I need to go to the door? Where am I? Who are you?"

More pain pressed him down to his knees. "Do NOT disobey me!"

"Who are you?" Sam bit out through his teeth. "And why do you want me to go to the door. Why are you hurting me? Stop it."

"Make me." The voice mocked. "Make me leave you alone."

Sam gave a grunt and fell to the ground hands pressed to his ears traveling up to his temples. "I can't. Stop it!"

"FRED ENOUGH!" A final voice shattered through the pain-

-and Sam's eyes snapped opened to find himself in the living room of Missouri's home. He was curled up at the legs of a chair sporting a headache of Mount Everest magnitude. Missouri pressed a hand to his shoulder and tried to pass down a bottle of water but Sam leapt at her touch and he heard the sharp sound of something very delicate and very glass shattering.

"Oh hell." Missouri looked up and her lips thinned. She considered the object then she considered the boy. Sam must have won out because the bottle was in front of him again and with the other hand she was swirling patterns on his back. Just like Dean did. The thought of his brother started to calm him. "Sit up and take a sip, boy."

With her and Fred's help Sam was sitting up his chest heaving wildly. The water bottle was pressed to his lips and he took in a sip. The relieving effect of the lemon balm washed over him and he took another hungry sip. The water bottle disappeared and Sam felt his hand raise and a tissue pressed into it before it was firmly fixed to the spot just beneath his nose. He must have started bleeding again.

The hand moved but his remained where it was pressing the tissue to his dripping nose.

"You went too far." Missouri snapped. "He's been at this two weeks and you pushed too far this time."

Fred's voice faded slightly as he stood up and away from Sam. "Missouri, you are missing what just happened…"

"You mean watching the poor boy slide to the ground in pain." She snapped again, her tone holding little patience for him. "I saw. I saw all of it."

"No, he didn't do what I asked." Fred kept his tone low and unaggressive, but his point had Missouri snap her mouth shut into a thin line again. "I even caused him to want it more, and he started questioning the reality I had created. He didn't quite repel me, but he repelled the impulse."

Missouri still looked unpleased with the man but didn't offer any more to him either. "Hey you doing okay, Sammy?"

"Peachy." Sam muttered. Hand fell away from his nose as he looked up at Missouri finally. "What did I break this time?"

"My Aunt Madera's glass horse. It was hand blown in 1875. Whatever, It's okay." She smoothed back Sam's hair. "Need a little more of the lemon balm?"

Sam shook his head. "The pains going away. If you give me five, I'll be fine."

"We are done anyways." Missouri scowled. She stopped Sam's protests. "It's nearing lunch time and I have to start that, besides you did fantastic today. You've made a lot of headway." She squeezed his shoulder before rising to her full 'miniature' height. "We don't want you passing out from blood loss."

Sam pulled himself back up to the soft chair he had originally been sitting on. "Okay. If you insist." He slouched onto the cushion. When he dragged away the tissue again and found the blood had stopped he breathed a sigh of relief. He was getting very tired of bleeding. "You're not going to charge me, are you?"

Missouri opened her mouth to ask what but her eyes lit up in amusement as she suddenly knew what he was talking about. "Boy, those things that you have broken aren't in your price range. Don't worry though. I've learned my lesson everything is being packed away and hidden tomorrow. Now you can just go back to break my windows and shatter my lightbulbs."

"Deal." Sam grinned leaning his head back. His head popped up at the sound of his phone. It trilled and vibrated on the coffee table once then died back down. Missouri gave Sam a stern look when he sat up then stood up to get it. He offered her only a shrug once his hand had fit around it. He glanced at who the text was from and looked back at her. "Sorry, business."

"Keep it short." Missouri snapped her mood back.

'Samo. Call me.' Was the short and sweet response from Ash. The mullet rocking, nearly MIT graduate. Their father had given Ash all of his notes. Every single one on the demon Azazel. Ash being brilliant with a computer had promised to call any of them whenever he got something.

Sam pressed the button to initiate a call and flopped on the closest chair. It rang once and Sam heard Ash's chill surfer tone. "Samo, my man."

"Ash. How's the Roadhouse?" Sam questioned.

"Well it's been busy since noon. Hunters really enjoy hitting the bottle early don't they."

"Whenever we can get a release, we take it." Sam chuckled hoarsely.

Ash paused. "You cool? You sound like you're coming down with something man…"

"I was just- exercising." Sam lied. "What do you have for me?"

"I was looking for more of the children, as you call them, and I came across something. It looks like they are being hunted."

"Hunted?" Sam asked sharply. He swiped a hand through his hair and tried to ignore the pulsing pain in his head. "What do you mean by hunted?

Ash sounded just as out of breath as Sam. "Three of your 'children' are dead." Ash expanded. "All stabbed, I sent you an email with everything fully detailed."

A husky voice sounded from the line. Between her and Ash it painted a picture Sam didn't want to imagine. "You done yet?"

"In a minute, Candy."

"Okay first off, I really hope you have pants on right now, Ash." Sam blurted. The breathy laugh he got eluded to him not wearing anything at the moment. "Seriously dude, I don't want you calling me while you're in the middle of having sex."

Ash laughed again at Sam's horror. "Chill, compadre. Everyone has sex, it's natural."

"Yes, everyone has sex, but not everyone needs to know when and with who you are having sex. Geeze man. That's sick!" Sam didn't want to imagine anything that had and was going to happen. "Look, get back to your activities. I'll take a look at the email. Thanks."

"Sure can do Samo." Ash giggled. Ash fricken' giggled. The line hadn't been closed by the time he must have turned back to Candy and asked, "So where were we?"

Sam was the one who ended the call quickly before he could hear any more.

xxxOOOxxx

The links shown were interesting to say the least. First few articles were confusing. They showed the deaths of one Miller family after another in unique situations. Father dying by sitting in a car full of exhaust. Uncle dying by being beheaded by a closing window. The mother was last to die after she stabbed herself in the eye. It made sense once he read the article on Max Miller, her stepson. He had been suspicious of their deaths but walked away. Only to be stabbed in some parking lot days later. Max had been born 1982. Just like Scott Carey. Found dead in a parking lot too. Stabbed.

The last link Sam plugged in a pair of headphones and listened to what sounded like a session with a counselor. How Ash got a hold of this information was beyond him. This kind of stuff was usually private. Unless Ash hacked into the man's computer. And the man loaded recorded sessions there.

Sam pressed his hands into his earphones as the man, Scott, claimed he could do things. Electrocute things. He looked even more shocked when Scott claimed he had seen the demon in his dreams, telling him to do awful things.

Sam inhaled when the doctor pressed.

"He wants the door opened."

Sam's own questioned echoed the doctors."What door?" He wanted to shake himself for asking it out loud but forgot to when the man answered.

"The door to hell."

xxxOOOxxx

Ellen's Roadhouse wasn't crowded, but there was a good number of hunters in the place though. Taking advantage of an afternoon drink. Dean couldn't blame them. He'd stopped purely to say hello to Ellen and stretch his legs mid drive but a stiff drink would be a bad way to work out the stress.

"Dean!" He turned his head from the rough looking clientele to the blond rushing his way. He lips sat in a wide smile and she dried her hand on a rag hanging from the waist of her jeans. "It has been way too long since I've seen you."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. "Yeah, since Thanksgiving, the year before. Still giving your mom hell about hunting Joey?"

"It's Jo, and yes. My dad hunted, all these morons hunt. Hell, you hunt and somehow haven't died in the last 60 years." She grinned at that last statement.

"Okay first off small fry." Dean saw Ellen step out of the back and tipped his head in a silent hello. "I'm Batman. I am the friggen' night. And second I am only six years older than you. If your mom wasn't here I'd have you in a headlock."

"Still afraid of my mother?" Jo didn't lose the grin.

Dean turned his voice low before walking away from the woman. "Who isn't…Although I'm sure Bobby would love a spanking from her."

"Ewww." Jo's face scrunched up. "Dude my mom."

"My uncle." Dean stuck his tongue out at Jo and took a seat at the bar. "Ellen! You are looking beautiful."

"Winchester…" Ellen rolled her eyes. "What has you in my neck of the woods?" She looked towards the door and around the bar before she looked back at Dean. "Where's Sam? Aren't you two attached at the waist?"

Dean held up his pointer finger to indicate he wanted one beer. She uncapped and slid a bottle his way. "Sam's good. I'm driving to meet him in fact."

"He on a hunt?" Ellen poked.

"Kind of." Dean stated blandly. "It's a weird situation."

Jo leaned up on the counter next to Dean and took a long swig of his drink before Dean could swat her away. "How is he doing anyways?"

"He's got a handle on- it." Dean stated unsure of what to say. Last year's Thanksgiving had been canceled. Sam was still depressed, and it didn't seem right to initiate such an occasion. Besides none of their hearts were in it. They were one-hundred percent focused on getting the kid up and running again. "He was in a bad way after-"

"After Jessica." Ellen said softly. Her heart had bled for the boy when she found out that his girlfriend had died. And word in the community was that it was the same thing that had killed their mother. "I tried calling him after, but he didn't pick up."

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. "He wasn't in the talking mood. It took a while to get something out of him that wasn't guilt."

"Guilt? The boy didn't do a thing. It was the demon that got your mother!" Ellen's voice raised a pitch.

Dean took the precious seconds to take a drink from his beer. "I know that. You know that. The whole goddamn world knows that! I don't know that he will ever figure that out though. Some part of him is always going to hold on to the fact that he could have done something. When in reality he could have done something and ended up just as dead."

Jo's face fell, and Ellen looked concerned at Dean's emotional outburst.

"I've put a damper on things now haven't I. Whatever. Sam's up and moving and working towards a goal now. Winchester's just have to have goals to keep us going." Dean masked whatever had come out and set his face with a wide grin.

"Yeah, like a mouse running in a maze." Ellen's face didn't lose its concern. "Whatever. I have a bar I need to tend, and very disturbed hunters who want something to forget." Ellen poked her finger at her daughter and growled. "And enough with the hunting bull crap. Don't try and push Dean to take you on a hunt. He knows better."

Jo pulled a Sam-worthy bitch face. "Twenty-one, mom."

"So go to school like your daddy planned." Ellen snapped.

"Geeze mom!" Jo followed her mother from the other side of the bar her words traveling through the place getting interest from the other hunters. Or more like she was getting interest from other hunters. Sure Jo was pretty. There was no denying it. But when guys looked at her with that look a protective big brother surge went through him. She was more than a piece of meat. She was a strong woman. She was his little sister.

"Nothing to look at. Go for women your own age." A familiar voice rumbled. Dean looked up and Gordon Walker, a common face seen at the Singer's Thanksgiving. He was the one who complained about the turkey and always sided with Rufus on whatever team was playing.

Jo scowled up at the man in the back and her voice quieted from the argument she was having. She gave one last scowl towards her mother and headed towards the back of the bar towards the pool tables.

Bobby always grumbled about him. Bobby quote "didn't know why he invited the fool if his cooking made him so miserable" unquote. Really Gordon was just another hunter that had wormed his way into the old man's heart just like Rufus.

Sure he was a bit of a religious nut. He'd met worse.

"So Ellen then." A cheeky bastard in the back called.

"So Ellen what?" Ellen dropped a drink in front of a hunter and threw the man who had called out a stern glare.

Dean threw his gaze back in the crowd where he saw a burly man sink down in his chair. "Nothing."

"Damn right nothing." Ellen grumbled. "If you want to be served here again, or walk out of here it better be nothing."

Gordon chuckled and dropped his beer on the spot next to Dean and took a seat. "Tough woman."

"The toughest." Dean nodded and took another drink. He wrinkled his brows when it came up empty. Stupid Jo. Barely twenty-one and draining him dry of his alcohol. "I was eighteen. She once caught me sneaking into the back of the bar and taking off with Budweiser. I got the tar beat out of me for the effort. My dad didn't lift a finger. Told me I shouldn't be stealing. I shouldn't be risking the beating." He dropped the bottle heavily on the counter. "I suspect he was more afraid of her and didn't want to step foot in the problem."

Gordon waved a hand at Ellen from the other side of the bar and she rolled her eyes firmly at him before nodding. "Most likely." Gordon scratched at the label on his beer. "Bet the woman keeps a gun under her pillow."

"I do, and a battle ax." Ellen grinned as she walked back over with two more bottles.

"Knew you had good taste." Dean nodded along.

"Suck up." She grinned at Dean before walking into the back.

"So you on your way to see Sammy?" Gordon asked his tone suggesting small talk but the second the topic changed to his little brother the man's stance on the stool stiffened. "How is the kid anyways? What's he been up to?"

Dean raised an eyebrow but kept everything casual between them. His spidey-senses were tingling, and that wasn't good. He could have been overreacting. Gordon was a hunter. Gordon was a vampire enthusiastic hunter and a good guy really deep down. He just didn't like to show it. Maybe he was just drunk. "Geeze with the way everyone is asking about Sam, I'm going to assume that they like him more than me."

"No just worried for the kid. Know he lost his girlfriend. I think we've all lost someone here. We all understand." Gordon drained his first bottle and moved to his second. Only he grabbed Deans. As Gordon's hand closed over the top of the bottle Dean smacked away his hand.

"Wrong one, Gordon." He had enough of people drinking out of his bottle. Jo was one thing. Gordon, needed to mind his own.

"Sorry." Gordon put his hands up defensively. "Going to protect that thing to the death, huh. Anyways where are you meeting up with, Sam?"

Dean knit together his eyebrows. "Okay now your just getting weird. You know it stays in the family. Besides we aren't going off on a hunt, if your goal was go party crash. Stick to your vamps, Gordon. Maybe you won't be so weird next Thanksgiving." Dean slid off the stool and took his beer with him. He ignored the eyes boring into the back of his head.

xxxOOOxxx

Two beers and Dean was already feeling the effects. Gordon's weirdness forgotten, a few games of pool, and 200 dollars more in his pocket he was pretty much done with the place. He had already spent way too much time there. And for what. He had to meet up with Sammy in Lawrence.

He stilled on the name for a second trying not to sway. The name had once put a shiver down his spine. Now after the closure he got with his mother moving on, he wasn't so disturbed by it anymore. It still wasn't one of his top places to visit, but he didn't loathe it.

Whoa. If he was allowing himself that thought middle of the Roadhouse when he should be getting his butt to his brother, then the alcohol was affecting him something bad. He must have been off the stuff too long thanks to his sober father, and trying to hide the stuff from his brother.

"Gotta go, Joey." He saluted the blond and deposited his second and last beer on one of the tables. "I have got to go or Sammy's going to get his panties in a wad."

Jo opened her mouth to protest the nickname, but stopped. "Hey Dean. You should probably detox an hour at least. You are swaying on your feet. One cup of coffee."

Dean waved her off. "I'm good. Really. I just need to start towards Sammy. I've been here too long already."

"No really." She put a hand out and grabbed Dean before he could walk off. "I'll call Sam; tell him you'll be a little while yet. Just, go up to the kitchen upstairs and just sit for a little while. I want to pump some water and coffee into you. You'll be no good to Sam dead on the side of the road."

"Ye of little faith." Dean smirked. "I'm fine. Scouts honor." He purposefully set himself to walk solidly as he shook off her arm and started towards the door. "I already paid for the drinks. You take care of yourself Joey."

Jo intended it to be under her breath but it was just barely audible for the retreating man. "Yeah…you too."

Dean focused on walking straight. She was right. He wasn't in the best condition, but he'd stop at a coffee shop and get something to wake him up. He'd be fine. He'd driven under worse conditions. Week after his birthday 2001. He and his father had been hunting a leprechaun in Massachusetts. Bugger got the best of him and his father very nearly and once the thing was dead Dean as left with a concussion and his father was bleeding out like a stuck pig. Dean had driven his father all the way to the hospital despite the sweat running into his eyes, his unfocused gaze, and the drum solo by Bohnam pounding in his head.

Once he was out the door and it was closed behind him, he allowed himself to stumble and leaned up against the wall to prevent himself from falling. Maybe he would go back inside. Take Jo up on that coffee. Two beers and he was worse than a girl at prom after the punch bowel had been spiked.

"You doing okay?" A voice rumbled above him.

Dean looked up and saw Gordon. He could have sworn the guy had left an hour ago. "Uh yeah. Doing great. I guess the alcohol was a little more effective today." Dean's mind swirled to when Gordon had gripped his bottle, and the conversation about his brother came back up. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "I'm good though. So…"

"I can help you to your car. Or better yet. I could drive. Tell me where the kid is and I'll get you to him safely." Gordon's intent wasn't good. Dean couldn't figure out why though. He'd been present in his life for six years and the man hadn't pricked this much concern in him before.

"I'm good."

"Sammy wouldn't want you wrapped around a tree." Gordon insisted.

Dean lifted an eyebrow. "I said I was good Gordon. In fact-" yeah a coffee with Jo was the better option right now. The way that Gordon's hand had touched his bottle had him questioning exactly what he had drank. "Jo offered me a coffee. I'll detox a little and take off."

Gordon's hand slapped onto the door and held it shut when Dean went for the knob. "I don't think so, Dean."

Dean brought his hand to his waist band to grip the handle of his gun, but his movement was sluggish. Oh yeah the fucker had put something in his drink for sure. Now was the time to scream like a girl and get help. Only Gordon anticipated that and his fist was swinging towards Dean's face.

Dean didn't have the coherency to block.

(Liked it? Leave a review! Or PM me I have it pretty much set up for the ending but you got an idea that could be better? I'm up for it.)