Memories & Demons

A/N: FYI, this chapter gets a mild little warning attached for mentions of abuse and violence, nothing too graphic. Thanks!

Chapter Four

Sharp teeth, glowing eyes, large ferocious bodies pounding through the now caved in front door was what Sam Winchester was seeing through a haze of pain, shock and he wasn't stupid enough to deny…fear, as well.

Despite it all he was relieved to know that his older brother and their mutual friend would be safe from the animals and also safe from those who wanted to use them. Sam wished that he and Dean had fixed all their problems. He wished he wouldn't die knowing his brother was disappointed in him or ashamed but he was also glad he could die knowing that he had at least tried to make up for the crap he'd caused Dean to suffer growing up.

Recalling the stories of how a person's life was supposed to flash in front of their eyes before death, he was surprised when he flashed on the very memory that had started what he felt was his deepest failure. Since, in Sam's view, it had been his childish selfishness that had caused the problem to begin with.

Flashback, Blue Earth, Montana, 1995:

"John, what the hell's going on?" Jim Murphy was demanding furiously, having just finished next week's sermon when his quiet house was turned upside down by the arrival of a furious John Winchester and his two sons.

If the Holy man turned Hunter was honest, he'd admit that he was less concerned by John's radical behavior than he was with the condition of the two boys.

Twelve-year-old Sam looked pale and withdrawn as he stayed glued next to the couch where his older brother had been more or less tossed by their Father. Normally an energetic and chatty boy, now he seemed quiet as he kept his head down and his shaggy head of brown hair obscured his face so Jim couldn't see the hazel eyes that were normally a window to the boy's soul.

It was sixteen-year-old Dean that truly worried him. Seeing John practically dragging the boy inside to dump him on the couch was one shock but when he finally saw how badly bruised Dean's face was, to the way his lip was busted and swollen, to the way his one eyes was already swelled shut and the other didn't look much better. He could only guess how bad the boy was hurt elsewhere and what the hell had happened to him.

"John, talk to me," he urged, finally grabbing the other man's shoulder to make him stop from where he was tossing the boy's duffels inside the house. "What's happening and what in God's name happened to Dean?"

Stopping to finally look at his friend, John Winchester's eyes showed fury and disgust. None of the concerned parental worry that Jim had been expecting.

"It doesn't matter what happened to him," he snapped, throwing a glare toward his boys before looking back at Jim. "All that matters is that you keep both of them here and that you don't let that one the hell outta your sight even for a goddamn second!" he pointed purposely at Sam when he said that, eyes cold. "I don't care if you lock 'em both in their rooms just keep them here."

Blinking at the tone, Jim couldn't make sense of this sudden change. "John, tell me what's going on," he urged calmly, hoping to settle the man but soon seen that wasn't going to happen soon. "I will not treat the boys like prisoners in my house. Where are you going and what happened to Dean?"

"I have to go help Bobby and Caleb on a hunt and I can't trust Dean to watch his brother anymore since clearly he's not any good at that simple job when a twelve year old slips past him," John threw back bitterly, going over to kneel down in front of Sam.

But instead of the usual gruff but still fatherly goodbye Jim had witnessed countless times before, he watched in growing disbelief when John's fingers gripped the much smaller boy's shoulder's almost painfully to shake him. "You listen to every word Jim says while you're here and you damn well better not try that crap you pulled ever again or this time you'll get the same lesson your brother did, understand me, Sam?" he demanded, giving the boy a harder than necessary shove back as he stood to regard his eldest. Before Jim could speak, he gripped a shoulder that the boy was clearly favoring when Jim heard the small cry of pain that broke free. "Try to actually do the damn job I trained you for, Dean. I also want you on your feet and training by tomorrow. None of this lying around crap! You brought it on yourself so suck it up and get past it!"

If Jim was horrified by what he was seeing in this exchange, hearing the painfully thin voice grit out a simple 'Yes, sir,' nearly broke his heart.

"Sam, stay in here with Dean," Jim ordered as he rushed out of his house after the boy's father. "John!" he snapped, no longer fooling around or willing to be patient. "What in the hell was that?" he demanded.

Ever since the first time that Jim Murphy had met John Winchester he had known that John was a bad choice to be a Hunter. He'd gotten into it for revenge, which wasn't out of the ordinary. However, his temper and the way he was obsessed with certain things made him a dangerous choice and Jim had cautioned him on his temper, his too rigid ways and certainly with the way he was bringing up his boys. But the one thing that Jim had never doubted, despite the fact that he had wanted to cheerfully throttle the man a few times, was that he knew John loved his sons. That was until today. Right then, he didn't know what to think.

Pausing by the Impala, John slowly turned to his friend but the rage made his already chiseled face even more hard. "I was on a hunt. I'd left the boys as usual but I finished early to go home to find that Dean had let his twelve year old brother scam him and had run off," he scowled while glaring back at the house. "He'd used all of his saved money to buy a damn bus ticket to Flagstaff. So, I went and dragged his ass home. Now, just keep them locked up until I'm done helping Bobby and Caleb and then I'll pick 'em up."

"John, what happened to…John!" Jim yelled but the Impala was already peeling out of his driveway in a cloud of dust. "Wonderful," he scowled after the retreating car to go back inside only to see that Sam had indeed stayed where he'd been standing since entering the house though he was glancing nervously at the couch where his brother was trying to curl up.

Knowing he could probably demand the answers out of Sam or lecture him on the dangers of running away, one look at the boy's downward casted head, the way his mop of shaggy hair covered his face told Jim that raising his voice to Sam now would be like kicking a puppy when it was down. So instead, he walked over to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder only to be shocked when he felt him nearly recoil at the touch.

"Okay, Sam, what say you grab the bags if you can while I get your brother upstairs to his room?" he suggested lightly, knowing he needed to take one thing at a time and right then seeing how bad the older boy was hurt ranked at the top of his list.

Seeing Sam merely nod before moving to grab the bags he noticed that he seemed to be having trouble with his right arm since he was using the left more. "Sam, on second thought, leave those there and go open the door to the room you and Dean usually share," he decided as he then reached down to carefully ease Dean up to a sitting position. "Up you go, Dean," he urged, sliding an arm around his neck when he heard the groan and soon realized the boy's one shoulder was probably dislocated so he switched sides.

"S'kay, Sir," Dean finally manage to get out, wincing as pain shot from his arm down to his side but managing to hide it. "I…I can make it."

"Right," Jim nodded, not releasing his hold as he steadied the teenager before he even attempted the trip up the stairs. "What was the name of the Wendigo, vengeful spirit or other unnamed creatures that tossed you around?" he asked easily, not liking the way the boy's breathing was labored when they finally reached the top of the steps. Jim was glad to see that Sam had thought to pull the covers back on the bed so that he could just gently ease him onto the soft mattress.

Hearing the way Dean struggled not to scream when he was laid flat warned Jim that the sixteen year old, that he had personally seen take risks no sane adult would, was definitely hurt in more places than he'd first believed but then he had other issues to deal with…like the obviously frightened little brother.

"De?" Sam was standing on the other side of the room, backed up against the closet door as if he really wanted to be inside the darkened little area. "Pastor Jim…is he…help him?"

Knowing that Sam normally didn't use the nickname for his brother unless he was scared, Jim swore to beat the hell out of their father for not telling him everything as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Dean's going to be fine, Sam," he hoped he was lying to the boy even as Dean was shifting himself so that he could try to find his brother.

"I'm…fine, Sammy," his voice though betrayed otherwise when he was forced to bury his face in the pillow as the Pastor touched his back and agony exploded. "Argh!"

"Dean, I need to know how bad you're hurt," Jim was anxious now after lifting the shirt up to find nothing back deep welts and bruises all over the boy's back and as he carefully went to turn him onto his side he felt something go cold inside when he saw what he prayed wasn't what it looked like. "Dean, did you get hurt on a hunt?" he asked tightly, feeling the thin body shake as shock began to come but after a couple seconds he caught the shake of a head. "Dean, I need you to nod just once for me. Did your Father do this to you?"

The silence in the room was deafening until finally the older man saw Dean's head move shakily in a nod before he hissed in pain and seemed to go limp as the pain finally made him pass out, leaving one scared little brother and one very angry Pastor.

Struggling to not say every swear word he knew right then, Jim Murphy shifted to look to where Sam was still standing and he knew the smaller boy understood why his brother was hurt. "Sam, go downstairs and get a snack out of the kitchen," he instructed calmly, wanting him out of the bedroom while he got Dean undressed to see just what the hell John had done. "Dean'll be fine, Sam. He's just sleeping. Go downstairs."

Sam looked like he might refuse but then his father's orders came back and he seemed to go even paler, nodding as he finally slipped from the room to leave Jim alone with his anger and a choice.

"Damn you, John," he muttered darkly, suspecting that John might have been a bit too rough in his discipline of the boys since he'd noticed bruises on Dean before and Bobby Singer had growled more than once about blowing John's brains out the second he saw more than a casual one that couldn't be explained away easily. But to see, to know that John had beaten his eldest son, had kicked him in the ribs enough to leave the print that he had seen…Jim might have thought better about his choice if he had known what to do but Sam was shell shocked and Dean would fight to protect Sam rather than take care of himself.

He could handle Dean's physical injuries but he wasn't sure about the mental wounds that were probably also raw, not to mention the fear that Sam had. Keeping a gentle hand on the unconscious young man's shoulder, Jim reached for his phone and after a second of hesitation dialed a number, then waited only two rings to hear the wary voice on the other end.

"How fast can you get to my place?" he asked casually, trying to find a good way to say this that wouldn't incite a violent reaction but not coming up with anything except… "Dean and Sam are here with me and…I'm not sure about Sam but…Dean's had the hell beat outta him and…hello?" he heard the dial tone and could guess what the next thing he'd hear would be.

Downstairs, Sam had picked up an orange but was sitting on the edge of the sofa with it looking at the spots of his brother's blood that stained the cushion. Wiping a hand under his nose, he fought not to cry since he knew it was his fault for running away that Dean had been hurt when he felt something like a pop in the air and then…

"Sammy?"

Jerking his tear soaked hazel eyes up, Sam blinked a second before he gave in to the urge and ran, throwing his arms around Morgan's waist. Holding on tightly while talking too fast about what he'd done and about Dean until finally the young girl, who was only two years older than Sam, managed to get him back on the sofa to sit beside him.

"Okay, Sammy, how bad is Dean hurt?" she asked, pleased that she was keeping her voice calm for the younger boy despite the anger she'd felt at Jim's call. "Are you hurt?"

Sam seemed to jerk at the last question, biting his lower lip before finally taking off his heavy jacket to allow her to help him roll his sleeve up to show the rather large hand print bruise on his upper arm but it was the bruise on his neck that she frowned at.

"Did you get these by whoever hurt Dean?" she asked him, absently peeling the orange for him as he nodded hesitantly.

"Daddy was angry cause I ran away from De so he…he hurt him cause of me, Morgan!" the boy responded, tears falling but his eyes had dropped to the orange pieces in his hand and he missed the way her eyes flashed dangerously.

"Your Dad hurt Dean, Sammy?" she asked tightly, rubbing a gentle hand over his shoulder before looking upstairs at his nod. While she wanted to go straight upstairs, Morgan knew that calming Sam down needed to come first so she sat with the upset pre-teen until the exhaustion and fear he'd been hiding won out and he fell asleep on the couch.

Keeping a hand on his shoulder a moment longer, Morgan whispered softly to him before taking the steps two at a time. "Murphy!" she snapped, stopping dead in the doorway and while Jim might have stopped himself from calling John Winchester every name available, the fourteen-year-old girl did not. "Winchester did that to him?" she demanded tightly.

Jim had taken the time to get Dean out of the bloody clothes and had just started to wash out the bruises, cuts and welts to get a better idea of how bad the boy was hurt when he heard his name, felt the change in the atmosphere and knew Morgan had arrived. "You saw Sam."

It wasn't a question so she waved it away. "He's got a bruise on his arm and one on his neck but nothing like this," she came closer and felt her stomach flip. "What the bloody hell happened to make the old man flip on him?" she wanted to know.

Jim had always known that Dean had been curious as to how he had known Morgan since as a hunter he should have been looking at her as a possible foe. He'd never told the boy that he'd known the young British girl since she'd been a child. If anything, Jim was probably one of the few people who knew all about her past, her friends, and her abilities so he hadn't been surprised when he'd first seen her and Dean together. He'd just been worried about hiding her abilities from John.

He wasn't sure how many other times the teenagers had seen one another though he recalled John talking about Dean's new friend. A highly suspicious man, John had his doubts about the girl but couldn't find anything to really make him doubt her intentions or make him see her as a threat…until maybe now.

"Sam said his Dad hurt Dean because of him," she had knelt down beside the bed to lightly card her fingers through Dean's limp, sweat soaked hair. "How bad is he, Jim?"

"He's hurt bad, Morgan," he replied after a second, rinsing the rag out again only to see her hand move down the unconscious teen's shoulder, to touch his back and he knew by the way her blue eyes seemed to darken that she was seeing the fight that caused these injuries. "Morgan…" he called warningly. "Using those are risky if you're not…"

Seeing the dingy motel room in which her friend had been tossed around in like a rubber ball, she not only heard the fight, heard the words John screamed at his son, she also felt every punch, kick, and fist but when she saw the belt strike the boy's back that's when she pulled back.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, absently brushing the wetness out of her eyes as Dean twisted restlessly as pain chased him even in uneasy sleep and his lips moved as he tried to reach for something or someone. "Sammy's safe, luv," Morgan assured him softly, knowing that's who he was searching for.

Resting a hand on his face, she stroked a finger gently and breathed easier when he relaxed again before choosing to hear the complaints the older man was tossing her way. "No, easing his pain, taking his fear away and helping him sleep isn't going to cause me any problems, Jim," she replied, standing after taking another moment to soothe her friend's uneasy sleep and meeting Jim's eyes with a gaze that he recognized as trouble. "What I do to his goddamn cold blooded father? That's another story. Stay with them and I'll be right back."

"Morgan! Don't do anything that…" Jim started to reply when he recognized the flash of light as an annoying mystic's power and sighing. "Well, this isn't going to be pretty and I pity Bobby and Caleb."

"Did Morgan go to see Dad?"

The unexpected tiny voice had Jim whirling to see Sam standing in the door, chewing his bottom lip while rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Sam, how much did you hear?"

"If she goes to see Dad, he'll find out about her powers, Pastor Jim," the boy knew his Dad didn't know that the girl his brother seemed to be getting closer to had powers and if he found out… "If Dad finds out about Morgan he won't let Dean see her again and then he'll be sad and it'll be my fault and…"

Motioning the smaller Winchester over to him, Jim wrapped a comforting arm around him. "Sam, yes, Morgan probably did go talk to John but I'm sure she understands to keep her powers off," he figured giving himself confession for that lie was worth the relief he saw in the boys' face. "Let's get you cleaned up now and we'll fix some soup for when Dean wakes up and Morgan gets back."

As Sam nodded, Jim silently prayed that the girl kept her head or this situation could get worse and Sam would end up blaming himself for it and that was never a good thing.

Present Day West Virginia, Sam:

Content with his memory, Sam felt something jerk him back from the blissful peace of his past only to see the snapping jaws that were about to rip his throat out. "Go ahead, bastards," he gritted. "Send me to hell."

The closest dog went to snap when it was burned out of sight with a bright light as a voice spoke that made Sam instantly wish he'd just been killed by the dogs. "Now, Sam, you didn't really think that's what we had planned for you, did you? Silly boy, this was much too complicated to just allow a bunch of homegrown mutts to chew you up."

Too weak to keep his head up, Sam let it fall back but struggled to keep his eyes open. "If I said go to hell, would you or would that be pushing it for you…Zachariah?"

"I thought you were the polite brother," the pudgy, bald Angel clucked his tongue as he stepped over the dead dog to approach the injured Winchester. "That's alright, I look forward to resuming that little talk we were having a few months ago," he knelt down to carefully nudge the useless shotgun away. "It's not easy to find you boys these days, Sam."

"Yeah, pity for you," he shot back, knowing that mouthing off to the hotheaded Angel wasn't a wise thing to do since Sam still had the scars on his back from the last time he'd crossed paths with Zachariah. "Dean's out now and you aren't touching my brother. He'll be long gone and…Argh!"

Making a fist, Zachariah shook his head as he made the boy scream in agony. "No, that's not quite true," he corrected very calmly, too calmly. "You're actually going to bring me your big brother, Sam. Because if I've learned anything at all about you Winchesters if that you can't help sacrificing yourself for the other and Dean will come for you."

Gasping when the pain in his chest leveled off, Sam glared. "I…I'm not calling De'n for you," he spit out, prepared this time for the pain but not for when the evil minded Angel slammed a flattened hand into his torn up leg. "Won't…use me for bait for…my brother."

"Sam, Sam, Sam," Zachariah sighed deeply, pleased to see the pain and shock deepening. "You totally misunderstand me. I don't want to use you as bait to lure in Dean," he replied, seeing the surprise in cloudy hazy eyes as he went in. "No, I plan on using you as bait for the little whore my annoying nephews work for and that will bring Dean to me. You see, I know that he's not the only Winchester she can feel. I mean, how do you think she always kept tabs on you or knew if something was wrong with either of you?" he grinned nastily. "Little Morgan may have a physical link with Dean but because you're his brother, she also made sure to be able to find you in a heartbeat if she needed to. That's how she found you in Oregon, by the way."

Sam's calmness was slowly vanishing. He'd accepted his death in order to protect his brother and Morgan but the thought of the Angels using him to get at either of them… "No, you won't…" adrenaline made him able to push up and attempt to pull the knife next to him but a swift kick to his head from an enforcer sent him reeling back into near darkness. "You…set this…up to get at Dean?"

"No, not just to Dean, Sam," Zachariah replied smugly, lightly patting his chest. "I see this as a good way to get things back on track and deal with a few other little errors but don't worry your little empty head about me doing the torturing this time," he declared, standing to dust off his hands. "You recall how devious normal humans can be, Sam? I mean, you've dealt with rednecks so I think you can probably understand just what cruel and inventive creatures they can be when given the right…tools, the right motivations and before they're done, you'll be begging either for Dean or to say yes to Lucifer."

With a snap of his fingers, Sam's whole body seemed to explode in burning agony as he screamed. "You…can't kill me…"

"You're right, my boy, I can't," the Angel agreed, looking toward the door at a pair of burly men. "But I sure can make you scream, Sam." he told him, pleased to see the younger Winchester convulse in agony before shock, pain and infection forced his mind to blackness. "Humans are too damn weak to enduring fun," he scowled, pointing to Sam as he faced the mortals to whom he had garnered help from. "You do what you want to him but don't do anything that'll kill him since I don't want to deal with Lucifer face-to-face unless this wretched asshole is willing to let Lucifer wear his meat." Zachariah snapped, blinking out as easily as he'd come now that he was content that his plan was back on track.

Elsewhere in Birkstown:

Unaware of what was happening back at the cabin, Dean Winchester was trying to plot three steps ahead while keeping his eye in the back seat and not get them both killed by crashing into something.

Since he'd allowed Sam to handle plotting their way here, all the directions for anything in the area was stored in Sam's phone…a phone that was back with his brother.

"Great. No clue where a hospital is, barely a clue on how to get back to the teenager from hell and…"

"…'magine what…he'll be like…at sixteen."

Surprise at even hearing a strained, halting voice behind turned to relief that she was not only still alive but able to try to relieve his tension…which it did slightly.

"If that's a thin way to say that he's like I was when we first met…" he let his eyes lift to the rearview mirror to meet swelled, glassy blue eyes with pupils that were nearly blown. "I was nowhere near as cocky as that kid is right now. He's more like you were that night."

He heard a weak cough that he knew was meant to be a snort before pain choked both and he saw her start to curl on her side. "Angel, I know it hurts but lie flat," he urged, seeing her eyes shoot to his in the mirror at his use of the nickname he'd given her. "You know where the hospital is?"

Something in her expression warned Dean that he wasn't going to like this news as he waited until she was able to speak again. "No…"

"There's no hospital in this town?" he demanded, feeling like slamming a hand into the wheel but restrained…barely. "Okay, plan B."

"Go…back for…him," she whispered tightly, now more awake she could feel the pain from her wounds but she was feeling something more right then. Fear for Sam. "Dean…drop me off and…"

Swinging the car around a curve that took him back into the town proper, Dean took a chance to actually turn quickly to look in the backseat at his injured friend. "I am going back for Sammy," he assured her firmly, adding quickly while sliding one arm over the seat to catch the hand that was weakly lifting. "After I drop you off with the kid, call a merc and maybe shout for that damn mystic who bailed my butt out in Oklahoma and call Castiel but after I get you safe then I'm going back for Sammy, babe. I'll bring him home," he promised huskily, feeling her grip his hand as best as she could right then.

Trying to drive the Impala one-handed up the winding road to the Murray B&B wasn't the easiest thing Dean had attempted recently and he soon saw that his luck was going to get worse when he noticed the Sheriff's cruiser parked in the driveway. "Sonuvabitch."

"Don' pick a…" Morgan had felt his emotions change, picking up the briefest thoughts about the cruiser and figured that Dean hadn't hit it off with Shea. She was about to warn him not to start a fight when a burst of pain went from her side around to her back and she fought the urge to scream.

"Damn," Dean gripped her hand tighter when he heard the pain, stopping the car with a jerk. He was out of the car in a flash to pull open the driver's side passenger door, which would allow him to ease his friend into his arms when he caught sight of the sandy haired pest he was looking for. "Shane!"

Having heard the Impala return, Shane Murray had hurried outside to hopefully keep it's owner and his father apart. When he heard the different tone in Dean's voice though he knew something was wrong.

"Hey, what's up?" he'd started across the yard easily, looking around. "Where's your bro…oh, holy shit!" he took off running when he saw his aunt in Dean's arms. "What happened? Where's Sam? Who…a ghost did…"

"Kid, I really need to lie her down and make some calls so I can go back for my brother," Dean interrupted, hating that the boy had to see this. "A hospital would be…"

Shane knew that was out for more than one reason so he grabbed the duffel that Dean was trying to manage, to lead him back around the house. "The garden house has that sofa bed that'll work until I can think of something or…"

"It's fine, kid," Dean assured him, noticing that Morgan had tensed but put that off to the pain he knew she was in. "I'll have Sam back here soon, Morgan," he assured her, hoping he was right as he watched while Shane pulled the sofa out into a nice full sized bed. "I need to know how bad it is and tell me the truth,"

Fighting the pain and the sudden extra pain that she knew dully wasn't a good thing, Morgan managed to move one hand to sign something that he quickly cut off.

"Hey, I always told you or Sam the truth when I was hurt…when it counted," he put in quickly, gently placing her on the bed but was careful when he propped her up slightly on the pillows that Shane supplied.

Steadying his hands, Dean laid one lightly on her stomach and was relieved not to feel it rigid. He didn't like the gasp of pain though when he touched her side or the way Morgan shifted to avoid the pillow touching the small of her back.

"No ghost did this, Morgan," he spoke tightly, seeing the boy off to one side with Morgan's cell phone in his hand. "You need to tell me who or what did this so I know what Sam's facing."

Barely remembering anything, Morgan did know that no spirit had inflicted the wounds she had. She just wasn't certain how to explain what had. Shivering as he removed his jacket in order to give him access to the wounds, she grabbed his wrist before he could touch her even as the sound of a pistol being cocked sounded in the room.

"Shane, get outside," Shea Murray ordered his son while steadying his service revolver at Dean as he stepped closer to finally see Morgan and immediately jumped. "You son of a bitch! Get the hell away from her before I shoot you…"

"Dad!" Shane snapped, stepping between them without a thought even as Dean was turning from where he sat on the bed. "He's Aunt Morgan's friend. Him and his brother found her when you wouldn't do a damn thing!"

Shea's eyes shot to his son for a brief second before locking on the cold green eyes of the stranger he'd met earlier. "I warned you about causing trouble in my town, mister," he declared evenly, holding the gun so it was aimed at Dean's heart. "Now, get away from the bed, drop to the floor and maybe I won't shoot you for any number of things I could name…kidnapping, assault, attempted rape…"

Shane yelled at this and Dean's body went rigid until he felt the weak hand that touched his back. Settling back beside Morgan, his eyes never left the Sheriff while motioning to the boy.

"Dial Robinson," he ordered, not giving a crap where the mercenary leader was right then.

Having already done that, Shane pushed the dial button and heard it pick up on the third ring. "Kel, I gotta a problem," he began slowly, holding the phone out so Dean could take it with one hand while his other was stretched out to give Morgan something to hold onto.

"Robinson, don't give me attitude, don't give me hassles," he began seriously, knowing the blond man on the other end would recognize his voice and also the tone. "First, I thought it was your job to watch out for Morg. Letting her get hurt in New Orleans and then get kidnapped in Hell Town is slipping up in the job description for you," he paused to catch a breath, slightly surprised that he was being given the chance to finish. "Second, I need a medic in Birkstown ASAP cause Morgan's hurt and I ain't got a way to get her to an ER. Then I want MacShayne here to tell me what the hell is really going on in this town because black dogs and chains with Enochian binding spells on them should not be an issue here! Or, and you want to tell the cop to put the damn gun down before I show him my gun?"

Kelly Robinson, leader of the mercenary team that worked for Morgan sometimes, already had a headache from the shouting match he'd just had with that very same mystic. Dean Winchester calling him just capped an already bad week "Oookay, put this on speaker, Winchester," he sighed, waiting until he heard a click and Dean's voice in an all too sweet way telling Shea that someone wanted to talk to him.

"No, I don't want to speak to him but I also don't want him putting holes in you since I know that will mean Morgan will try to vaporize him…again," Kelly growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shea, put that damn gun away because I can promise you that Dean has a much bigger gun than your service revolver and probably a few other nifty things that only Morgan would have otherwise," he snapped in his best tone. "He's a…friend," he nearly choked on the word. "If she was in trouble, you should've called me or…oh, I see by my second in command that Shane's left 150 messages…shut up, Dean."

"Not saying a word, Kel," Dean rolled his eyes, eyeing the cop. "You going to put that away or do you want her to continue to bleed out?"

Ignoring the shouting from the phone as Shane quickly turned off the speaker, he noticed that his Dad still hadn't lowered the gun but had moved it slightly so it wasn't aimed at the elder Winchester any longer. "Kel, Aunt Morgan is hurt…bad."

"I'll have Stan there as soon as I can and Jack as soon as I get him again," Kelly assured the teen. "Just make sure Dean doesn't kill your family."

Morgan had been trying to ease the tension when Dean slowly turned back to her. "Shhh, it's fine. Your…brother doesn't like me and I'm not thrilled with him," he replied easily, seeing that her eyes looked even more glassy than before. "What's wrong?"

Blinking up at him, she started to say nothing when an image seared her mind and despite being weak, she gripped Dean's hand tightly. "…Sam…"

"Babe, I said I'm gonna get Sammy as soon as I'm sure you'll be…" Dean frowned when she tried to grab his shirt with her other hand, a move that told him she was trying to make a point. "Morgan? What're seeing?" he demanded, recognizing the signs even if he didn't understand the how right then.

"Sam…Dean, go…get him…now," she whispered, not liking the images or the dull pain that she was too weak to shield herself from. "Please…he's hurt…he's…Dean, he's scared."

The words Sam+scared normally equaled Dean jumping into hyper manic protective mode and he was but he was also torn between making sure she was safe and doing what he knew he needed to for his little brother.

Seeing his hesitance, Morgan's injuries didn't seem so bad to her and she forced herself to grip his shirt tightly to pull him closer. "Dean…go…get…our…Sammy," she gritted. "You…promised to…"

Taking the hand away from his shirt since it still amazed him that she could cause him pain with no visible nails, Dean nodded. "Alright, I'll go. You stay still, stay with the kid and I'll bring Sammy back here so you can lecture him while I patch you both up and then I'm dragging both your butts to Bobby's." he replied smartly, standing to go when he paused. "The hell with it," he muttered, kneeling down to cup her face in one hand. "As soon as I get this mess fixed and we ditch Sammy with Bobby, you and me need to talk, babe," Dean murmured, feeling the fever under his hand before he leaned in to brush a simple, gentle kiss across her split lips then pulled back to address Shane. "You stick with her like glue until a medic or that mystic shows up and don't let anyone touch her but one of them."

"Got it," the boy covered his smirk with his hand as Dean pushed past the Sheriff without a word. "Yeah, I can see what you see in him," he told his Aunt with a laugh as she curled up tighter.

Morgan had known that Dean wasn't going to let the past drop. She owed him the answers he wanted but first she had to make sure both Winchesters made it out of this alive. 'Hang on, Sammy,' she thought to herself.

Hating to leave until he knew someone was with Morgan that he trusted…or at least abided, Dean had known when she said that Sam was hurt and scared that he needed to get back to that damn cabin in a hurry. Having taken a closer look at the map, he saw a way to actually take the Impala closer than they had before.

Swallowing his fear when he tried to dial up Sam's cell only to have it go directly to voicemail, he switched gears and pushed another number. "Cas! Birkstown, West Virginia, these coordinates, meet me now!" he snapped, parking the car as close as he could, pulling his .45 even as he ran full out for the cabin.

"Damn it, Sam, you better be alright or I'll never hear the end of it!" he growled to himself, knowing he'd hate himself if Sam was injured but also knowing that Bobby Singer would kill him. "Sam! Where are…oh, God."

Remembering his surprise when he and Sam had first come upon the still well preserved house. Now his shock came from finding the house badly in need of repair and half collapsed as it some great wave of power had just swept through and pounded it into the ground.

Looking around the dead ground to see the burned bodies of the black dogs, Dean's heart had finally gotten out of his throat when he saw the roof of the house caved in, making it impossible to get inside. "Sam!" he shouted, hoping to find his brother somewhere outside as he rushed forward but only saw more destruction. "Sammy, answer me! SAMMY!"

"He's not here, Dean."

Whirling, he barely stopped from firing the .45 at the trench coat wearing Angel. "Damn it, Cas!" he snapped, shoving the gun away to whirl back in search of his brother when what the Angel had said registered. "What d'ya mean, Sam's not here. Where the hell is he and what hit this place?"

Castiel had lost a great deal of his power since deciding to betray his orders and side with the Winchesters and while Dean could cheerfully strangle him at times, he did trust him…well, more than he did most of the Angel Patrol.

"I cannot tell you Sam's exact location since I can't sense him out anymore due to the carvings I placed on your ribs but I do know that he was taken from this place…by mortals…yet even that trail is blocked from me," Castiel didn't seem to like the implications of that. "What exactly are you doing in this place, Dean?"

"Helping a friend and now I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Dean replied darkly, running restless fingers through his short hair. "Sam stayed behind to buy me the time to get Morgan clear. He should've been fine but…what hit the house?"

"Zachariah," Castiel responded, having no doubt about that since he had picked up the Senior Angel's powers as soon as he arrived.

Slowly Dean turned from staring at the house to glare at his Angel friend, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Are you telling me that Zachariah, the douchebag asshole that has been trying to make me an Angel condom since the night Lucifer got out, was here?" he asked carefully, wanting to be sure he was understanding. "He was here in a spot where my brother is no longer? He leveled the house?"

Before Castiel could nod or reply, Dean was walking away to pace as things began to hit him. Shane had said that Zachariah had tried to nail Morgan in New Orleans before this started. Morgan's injuries were too severe for a simple witch's spirit to have caused them and she'd been bond by chains with Enochian engravings. Now Sam was gone and the last place Dean had seen his brother had been leveled by…

"Sonuvabitch!" he snarled, fury erupting. "That no good…find them!"

"Dean, you know that I…" Castiel had began to explain again how both Winchesters were invisible to Angels when they heard a familiar ringtone.

Grabbing for his phone, Dean looked at the caller ID first to feel his pulse jump. "Sammy?"

"Did you lose someone, Dean?" Zachariah asked condescendingly from the other end. "Oh, yes. That adorable little brother of yours seems to have gone missing, hasn't he?"

"Where. Is. My. Brother?" he demanded, pronouncing each word tightly. "Sam has nothing to do with this, Zachariah. You want me, not him."

Pausing to examine the very interesting cell phone, the bald suited Angel nodded as if he could be seen. "True, but Sam is the means to you, Dean…well, after your little whore feels him enough to lock on to him, that is. Dean, I meant to ask, how is that poor girl?"

"Why?" Dean demanded, feeling his blood go cold.

"No reason, no reason," Zachariah turned to look on to the latest activities going on near him. "I was just wondering. I meant to ask her about the scar on her shoulder, the one she got the night she and your Father fought. I wonder why she didn't have one of my annoying nephews remove it but then I'm sure it'll blend in with all the others she got this time. How is her back, Dean? Milt was especially creative back there."

Hearing the words but only seeing white, it took Dean several seconds to find his voice. "I will kill you for touching either of them," he promised, fighting back his rage to keep his voice steady. "Where's Sam?"

"I can't tell you that, Dean but…I will give you something," Zachariah assured him, holding out the phone just as his new little helped lifted something and a scream was heard. "I know I can't kill Sam, but I can take out my frustrations over you on your precious little brother…until you get here. Here, your brother's on the phone, Sam. Tell him how much fun you're having."

Fingers gripped the phone tighter when he heard the painful gasps and finally… "De'n?"

"Sammy, it's alright. I'll find you soon…just…" he broke off in frustration, not knowing what to say to help his brother. "I'll be there."

"…De, no…don't," Sam fought to get the words out, barely conscious and body wracked with agony he had to get that through to Dean. "Trap."

Dean laughed dryly, wiping a hand over his face to feel the burning tears. "Yeah, no joke there, kiddo," he agreed bitterly. "Morgan and I'll find you, Sammy. Just hold on to…"

Another painful scream tore into Dean's soul but before the phone was taken away, he heard his brother say the one thing that would ensure Zachariah and whoever else had hurt his little brother would pay. He heard words from Sam that he hadn't heard in fifteen years…he heard his Sammy fighting tears and him begging Dean not to hate him.

The scream still echoing, Zachariah came back on the line. "That should hold you until you figure out the rest of this, Dean," he sneered. "Have fun. I know I will."

Castiel knew by the way Dean's jaw was clenching that he was furious. He had heard the screams and wished you could have locked on to either Sam or the other Angel but couldn't. "We'll find him."

"Oh, hell yeah, we'll find Sam," Dean gritted, pocketing his phone to stalk back to the Impala. "You're coming with me and this time I want to know how Morgan could find Sam in Oregon and I want to know what the hell else is going on in this freakin' town."

Knowing that the Angel would show up in his own time, Dean slammed the door and jammed the keys into the ignition but the only thing he could see was his brother. Both as Sam was today and as he was at twelve.

He'd never guessed that his little brother still blamed himself for that time. He had thought that he and Morgan had assured Sam that Dean's injuries hadn't been his fault. Clearly though, Sam still thought differently and he knew by the last things he'd heard that his brother was dangerously close to reverting back to that time and that was bad for them in so many ways.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded bitterly, praying he found Sam in time because he couldn't lose his brother…not like this. "Hang on, Sammy. Big brother's gonna make it right…no matter who I have to kill."

TBC

A/N: Well, Sam survived the dogs so far but will he survive Zach's evil plans before Dean and Morgan can get to him or will someone else make an appearance? What is Zachariah's master plan? How do Dean and Morgan figure into it and as Dean finally learns some of the secrets of that fateful summer fifteen years ago, how will he react? Come back for CH 5 to find out as we will have evil Angels, some really ticked of Dean action, some more Teen!Chester flashbacks and more!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Those always mean so much as they let me know I'm going in the right direction.