Memories & Demons

A/N: While it's not much there will be mentions of abuse and violence in flashback form. Thanks!

Chapter Five

Murray B&B Meanwhile:

Not aware of what was happening not too far away, Morgan Harrison had decided that she needed to be up and moving, not stuck on the sofabed despite the growling of her newly arrived medic, Stanley Blackwell was doing as she struggled to stand.

The tension in the garden house since Dean Winchester left was nearly palpable. Stan had arrived with a clearly unhappy Jack MacShayne who took one look at Morgan's adopted brother and seemed to grow even more unhappy.

"Been busy, Sheriff?" he asked mildly, blue eyes sparking with energy that seemed to be reacting to being in the town which set off his alarms. "Many muggings, murders, big black dogs eating your townspeople?"

Sheriff Shea Murray glared at the mystic but kept silent while he smoothed a finger over the trigger guard of the pistol that he still had in his hand.

"Jack! Quit picking a bloody fight with Shea and tell me where the bloody hell you've been recently?" Morgan snapped, batting her medic off only to find that the pain in her back was so bad she nearly fell into the table if the mystic hadn't appeared by her in time to catch her arm.

"Oh, gee, I don't know. There's something called the Apocalypse that a couple moronic brothers started that's been keeping me busy?" he reminded her sourly, not liking the way she was looking or what he picked up when he touched her. "Wars, famines, pestilences, deaths spreading hither and yon across the lands not to be topped by the ever wonderful involvement of Angels and demons both looking to turn your boys into meatsuits for my damn uncles," he scowled. "All and all, I've been having a great couple weeks."

"Yeah? Try getting nailed by a stupid ghost witch with an attitude and an affinity for sharp objects," Morgan shot back sourly, reaching up to twist the chain on her necklace as she normally would when on edge before she remembered giving it to Shane to give back to Dean. "I've had a fun five bleedin' days and if Dean and Sam hadn't come who knows how long it would…what?"

Jack's eyes had narrowed. "What witch?" he demanded, looking at her injuries and the slashes on her wrists which had been all she'd allow him to heal. "You didn't get these injuries from no damn witch and especially not a ghost witch."

"I was the one chained to a damn slab, mate, so I think I know what…" she began to argue, wishing Dean would call or something so she'd know what was happening since her abilities weren't strong enough to find out herself and her last image hadn't made her too happy.

"You need to leave," Shea Murray spoke suddenly in a no nonsense tone that normally got the citizens in town to jump but only had his sister shifting a dry look his way while the mercenary medic just smirked and Jack ignored him. "Right now, Morgan. Leave town and just forget all of this."

"Yeah, I'm sure the boss will forget being tortured while visiting," Stan snorted, curious about the way the Sheriff was acting.

Morgan gave him a dry look that would have matched one of Dean's better used looks of disbelief as she nodded. "Sure, Shea. I'll be more than happy to leave Hell Town and never look back," she agreed, adding swiftly. "Just as soon as Dean and Sam come through that door I'll be gone but not a bloody second sooner."

"Where are they exactly?" Jack wanted to know, not wanting to tell her that since Lucifer brought up the final Horseman that his powers had been going weird due to the upheaval in the mystical realms. "I kind of expected to teleport Stan in here and have one of those morons pointing guns at him."

"Sam stayed behind at the witch's cabin so Dean would have time to get me clear," she didn't sound pleased with that plan and in fact wished she'd been able to get the younger Winchester to come out with them. "The bloody woman's black dogs had him surrounded and I caught a flash a little bit before you showed up so Dean went…Jack? What I tell you about swearing in Enochian/Latin when I don't have a translator handy?"

Jack had known things were wrong in this town from the second he'd ceased his spell but now he was positive things were more than wrong, especially since his friend had no real clue about her own injuries. "Alright," he began slowly, looking over to see the Sheriff shifting his service revolver uneasily. "Let me see if I have this straight. You came here after Zach nailed you in the Big Easy instead of going to South Dakota like you told me you were because Shane's little sister was almost grabbed by this witch?"

"Yeah, the town's very own dark little secret," Shane Murray put in from his seat at the table. "Abigail Stone was a witch who was killed by the town founders in 1863 because she made a pact with the Devil. She swore a curse on the town that every twenty years she'd return and people would vanish for two weeks and so on," he shrugged. "I called Aunt Morgan after Em was almost grabbed but this time the witch isn't doing the usual pattern that I could see was established."

"Shane, let's leave your…Aunt alone…while we go see about dinner," Shea spoke quickly, reaching out to take his son by the shoulder when a sharp pain went through his fingers.

Leveling a dark look at the Sheriff, the mystic held out a piece of paper to the boy. "Shane, do me a favor and go see if your Mom has any of this stuff either in her pantry or the house?" he asked easily, placing the list in his hand but as he went on his gaze never left the older Murray's. "I need them for a locating spell."

"I can help you if you wait a second, son," the Sheriff again went to reach out with the hand that wasn't holding his weapon when a firm grip suddenly moved his arm back.

"No, I don't think so, Sheriff," Jack growled lowly, wishing he'd thought to bring one of his brothers on this job. "Shane, go and if you see Dean come back…just keep looking for that stuff."

Stanley Blackwell had caught the tone the mystic used even if the teenager hadn't and as Shane left the tiny guest house, he felt the energy change a second before Jack's hand waved to send Shea crashing into a wall.

"Jack?" Morgan stared at the sudden action, starting to move when Stan caught her arm. "What're you…"

"You care to come clean now before I tell her, before I undo what my no-good Uncle did to screw with her short-term memory of the past five days, or before Dean Winchester gets back here and probably puts a few .45 caliber holes in your head?" Jack demanded tightly, letting his grip heat up slightly. "Winchesters are dense, moronic, stubborn, mule-headed sons of bitches but the one thing they are not is stupid. Dean will figure this out and I can promise that you'd rather I vaporize you into atoms than what either he or Morgan will do to you, Shea."

As the local law enforcement officer cringed at the heat shooting up his wrist, Jack snapped his fingers to make the service revolver vanish. "You'd only get hurt if I left that handy because point it at me, you'd be gone in an eyeblink." the mystic remarked, releasing his grip to cross the room to his usual employer. "Boss, you won't like me very much in the next five seconds."

"I don't like you very much right now, mate," she returned warily, looking between Jack to her scowling brother. "What's going on, Jack? What do you want Shea to tell me? What's going on with Dean? He found Sammy right?"

I can't tell that because someone, Zachariah probably, put up some type of shield spell to keep me from doing what I did in Oregon when I pulled Dean out of his clutches," the black haired mystic replied, seeing her concern for the Winchesters and really hating what he had to do. "You know in your heart that the memories you have of that past few days aren't right because you saw who cut you. You saw who put those welts and that mark on your back on you. You know but you don't remember so…I'm sorry."

Before she could ask what he meant or before she knew what he was planning, Jack placed a hand to her forehead and lights exploded a second before Morgan went limp.

"Jack?" Stanley gaped, not believing the mystic had just used his powers on their friend and certainly not liking when she passed out or the way her body had started to shake. "You want to tell me why or should I just call Kelly and let him kill you?"

"I'd wait until he had a real reason to kill me, thanks," Jack responded, not concerned as he turned his gaze back to the Sheriff. "You have maybe three minutes before she wakes up screaming and then she's either going to give me the nod to burn you, turn you into a baby dragon, or wait for Dean to get back and let him kill you. Because I can promise once he finds out about who really hurt her and about his little brother, Winchester's going to be pissed. Give me a reasonable excuse, say you were brainwashed for a short time, and I might slow him down."

Gasping and trying to pick himself up from the floor, Shea Murray glared at the mystic. "I don't know what you're…"

"Abigail Stone was a crazy woman in 1863 whose husband was killed by your ancestor. Her child died of a fever outbreak that spring. She didn't kill them in a pact with the devil…I mean Lucifer's nuts but he'd also choosy," Jack began evenly, keeping himself between where Stan was kneeling next to Morgan and the Sheriff. "Birkstown sprouted up way too fast and became way too prosperous in those days of the War for that to have been natural and since you are talking to a guy whose Father knows of ever major soul/town bartering deal ever made, I know what really happened. Care for a history lesson, Sheriff or do you just want to tell me why you sold out your own sister?"

"Huh?" Stan turned to stare. "Why would Shea betray Morgan to the Devil?" he asked, confused and hating all of this crap.

"Not the Devil," Jack laughed even though amusement was far from what he was feeling. "Wrong circle of friends, though his ancestors certainly sent enough blood to the lower caste demon they dealt with," he admitted.

Sighing, Shea Murray slowly slumped back against the wall as if in defeat. "I told her not to come. I told her not to get involved or go into the woods," he argued. "I wanted her to leave but…"

"Nice show. It works on the mortals but I can see into your damn heart and you knew if your daughter was threatened Shane's first call would be to Morgan," Jack snapped, flipping his hand to ignite a small sphere of blue light. "Your family and another made that deal in 1863 but while your ancestor thought he got out of it after his son died fighting back the other family has continued on with the practice but your family still has a hand in it," he declared, eyes cold. "What? Find the tourists? Hand over the innocents to be bled, tortured and finally killed? Is that what you do, Sheriff? Or have you taken a more physical hand in it?" he demanded. "Did you this time while Zach's new attack dogs were slicing my friend's, your sister's, arms?"

Before Shea could choose to respond, Morgan's eyes snapped open with a scream that died as soon as she laid eyes on him. "…Why?" she asked in a whisper, pain and confusion evident in her eyes as she clearly recalled the past five days.

"Morgan…you can still leave," Shea sighed, looking away from the accusations he saw reflected in his sister's face. "There's still time. They just wanted the Winchesters and…"

"Oh, shit," Stan breathed a second before whatever power or energy Morgan had gained back was used against the town Sheriff. "Boss, you're too weak for…shutting up."

Blue eyes still glassy with shock from injuries still raw, the young British woman ignored it all. She ignored the pain, she ignored the nausea, she even ignored the betrayal she felt but what she wasn't willing to ignore was that she was used as bait to lure her friends into danger. Set up as bait by her own… "I saw you there, Shea," she declared in a low, soft voice, accent vanishing as it did when really angry. "I saw you standing there with that fat, bald, bastard as he bragged about having the perfect bait for Dean and Sam. You watched as they…"

"I'm sorry," Shea murmured, seeing Jack smirk a second something crashed above his head. "The family is tied to the town and the town survives by these damn sacrifices. Jason usually is the one to help…them but this time…" he held out a hand to her while moving his other slowly around to his back up pistol. "This time at damn Angel appeared and changed the rules of the deal. He said if we…used you to get these brothers here that he could cancel out the deal. The town would be free. No one else would have to die and he swore you wouldn't be hurt but…"

"Dude, you've watched a little too much 'Touched By An Angel' on TV," Jack laughed, now very amused. "Angels aren't the honest, goody-two shoes, help in a pinch type like Roma Downey or Michael Landon made it appear. Most Angels are self-serving, deceitful when it serves 'em, backstabbing sons of bitches and Zachariah is the worst amongst those," he stated, shaking his head at the naivety of mortals these days. "Your town made a deal with a lower caste demon. Zach might think he's got power over everything but not even an Angel can cancel out a blood debt deal with a damn demon. Only one other person or entity besides another Crossroads demon can do that and…well, alright most Angels can't since Lucifer can but it's complicated."

Silently unsnapping the holster under his jacket that held the weapon, Shea sighed. "I know that," he admitted, looking up. "He said that once he got what he wanted he was turning the other boy over to Lucifer and that he'd cancel the deal."

"You…Zach said…" Jack caught how pale Morgan had gone at that statement while he was just left speechless. "How arrogant are you to expect to make a goddamn deal with the freakin' King of Hell, Murray?" he demanded, beginning to see that even he'd underestimated this situation and a call to his brothers was going to be needed. "Stupid, if Zach gets what he wants which is the Archangel Michael inside Dean Winchester. The only thing that will happen if he summons Lucifer is, if Sam's in bad enough shape to not be able to refuse or he's an empty shell, is that Lucifer wears Sam and your town and the surrounding county will be wiped off the world map as Armageddon happens right on your damn door!"

As Stan was deciding if it was best to have Jack take Morgan out of the area until he could get more help here, Shea made a quick move to roll out with his back up pistol aimed. "No, he promised that would happen elsewhere but that the town would survive." he held the weapon steady, swallowing at he let it settle on his pale, shell shocked adopted sister. "Please, just leave. The Winchesters are beyond your help. You did what you were supposed to do, now leave. I don't want to have to…have to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Morgan actually laughed at that, feeling the twinge in her ribs. "You don't want to hurt me?" she repeated, waving a hand to indicate herself. "I think you did that already, Shea. You also realize that Stan could disarm you with one shot or Jack could vaporize you before you could get that shot off?"

"Yeah, I know that," Shea Murray finally met her eyes with a gaze that told her to move. "I'm sorry, Morgan," he murmured, closing his eyes to avoid the sudden flash that announced the arrival of trouble and he fired.

Having his abilities dimmed since Lucifer started playing with Horsemen and all, Jack wasn't expecting the arrival of two of Zachariah's enforces. "Shit! Stan, grab the boss! I'm 'porting you both clear!" he yelled, hearing the sound of the pistol going off. "Stan!"

Whirling to check on his friends, Jack swore when he caught sight of the mercenary medic holding his side while the one enforcer was heading for him but before he could fire an energy sphere in that direction he had his own issues.

"Zachariah expected your trips this time, boy," the dark haired, black suited Angel goon sneered, pulling the long shiny silver knife Angels used to kill once another. "He's made sure to take care of this time."

"Just my luck, a choir boy with an attitude," Jack replied, leaning back to avoid the blade since he knew that while it wouldn't kill him, it would hurt like hell if he was even scratched by it. "Morgan! Get the hell outta here! Find Dean and scream for Ethan!" he snapped, too busy to look to see where she was and if he had he wouldn't have been happy.

Having just remembered in detail the last time she'd had any dealings with those black suited goons of Zachariah's, Morgan Harrison nearly froze at the sight of them but old instincts kicked back in. She started to move to help Stan who her so-called brother had just shot when she went down hard to the floor, not expecting to be grabbed by the ankle.

"Shea, stop!" she turned to her back to immediately see the muzzle of the pistol aimed at her heart. "How do you plan to explain this to Shane?" she finally asked, suddenly too tired to even try to summon a spark of power as her eyes seemed to blur in pain that was part hers and part…she stopped the thought. "Or, will you just ask an Angel to rearrange his memories?"

"It's a way," the law officer admitted seriously, aim shaking only once before it steadied. "If you'd just gone away and not remembered but I can't let you or Stan leave here knowing what's gone on, hon," he explained reasonably, pulling back the hammer of the pistol. "It'll be quicker than if Zachariah ended up doing what he wanted."

Morgan's heart clenched at that possibility since she knew what the underhanded Angel was capable of but it wasn't fear for herself that she felt now. It was fear for her friends. Knowing that Sam was in evil hands made her sick. The knowledge that she'd been used to put the young man in that position was worse.

Only the thought that Dean was still free and would find Sam gave her the peace to stare into Shea's cold gaze as his finger brushed the trigger. "So shoot me," she told him with an eerie calmness, adding. "Shoot me, Shea but when you do you'd better look over your shoulder every bleedin' day for the rest of your life."

"I'm not scared of Kelly's boys, Morgan," Shea laughed until he saw her eyes and he sobered.

"Good but it's not Kel you'll need to scared of," Morgan closed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over her when a more familiar feeling seemed to enter the room.

"Then who, little sister?" Shea asked, not liking her calmness.

"That would be me, asshole."

Whirling to bring his gun around to fire, the local Sheriff grunted when a hard knee hit him in the midsection while a fist gripped the front of his shirt to yank him further away from Morgan and hard against the wall. The sound of a .45 being cocked next to his head was heard. "Looks like I'm not the only trouble your town has, Sheriff but I'll still be around when it's over. I can't promise that for you," slamming the butt of the pearl handled .45 hard against Murray's skull until the cop finally slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Shoving the .45 back into his jeans, Dean looked to be sure Castiel was handling his end of things before he dropped to his knees to see that her eyes were partially open but he didn't like what he saw in them. When he'd left he'd seen pain reflected into blue eyes that he'd once seen so much life and energy. Now, he saw fear, confusion, and…guilt.

"Staring down a nut with a loaded gun? That's something I'd do," he chided lightly, hoping his hands were more steady now that he'd dealt with the threat than they were when he'd walked in to see the Sheriff about to pull the trigger on her. "You're supposed to be smarter, babe. Hell, even Bobby said you were smarter than me about not mouthing off…well, at gun-toting nuts, that is."

"Knew you were coming," Morgan murmured, looking into Dean's eyes fully for the first time and recognized the emotions he was burying and the reasons behind them. "Sammy?"

Moving his eyes to watch as Castiel dispatched the enforcer who was about to kill Stanley Blackwell, he took his time answering. "I'll get Sammy back," he promised her, emotions' showing in his voice even as he fought to keep them from his face while reaching down to help her sit up and was a little surprised when she reached for him. "Easy."

"I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered, feeling real tears burn for the first time since waking up to his voice but the thought that he and Sam had been brought into this because of her. That Sam was still in danger and being hurt even as he was dealing with this made walls that she'd always made certain held up in front of Dean most of the time began to crack. "If I had known about this, about any of this…I wouldn't have told Shane to call you. I'd…"

"Be dead or worse," Dean finished for her, having figured out a lot of this on his way back here and what little he hadn't guessed on his own had coming blaring into focus upon seeing the Sheriff holding a gun on Morgan while Angel enforcers were in the room. "Nothing's your fault, Morgan. Sam and I would've come as soon as anyone would have told us you were in trouble. Hell, how many times have you bailed us out over the years…and I really haveta talk to you about some of those too."

Feeling her shaking, he knew the signs of walls breaking in Morgan. He'd seen it this way once and he hadn't realized then how long she'd held those walls up for Sam's sake until he had made one joking remark in a cabin fifteen years ago and she broke.

"Shhh, it's alright," he whispered against her hair, tightening his arms only when he felt weak fingers gripping his jacket and like it was once before whatever it was went wrong, he felt the emotions and guilt running through her thoughts over a link that he wondered if she knew was getting stronger again. "Sam knew what he was doing and we'll…"

"He thought he was facing just black dogs and a bloody witch," she countered, feeling the pain building again. "He didn't know he was a target for…damn it!"

Dean's arms stayed locked when he felt Morgan try to push away, needing her calm for the moment as he gently lifted her face even as the second enforce went flying across the room. "That douchebag played a number and he still thinks he has the upper hand but he didn't count on something," holding her eyes seriously he added. "No one hurts our Sammy, right?"

One sentence that had come out of a summer of keeping an active twelve year old out of trouble and had bonded them more closely than few other things could seemed to settle Morgan down slightly until her eyes caught sight of her brother and she recalled his part in this.

"Morg?" noticing where her eyes were and catching brief flashes of her unlocked memories had Dean swearing under his breath. Moving quickly but gently, he stood to bring her up with him but was quick to steady her when she seemed to nearly double from pain. "Damn, Cas! Kill that other asshole so that mystic can tell me what the hell's been happening here!" he snapped, easily lifting her up fully into his arms and then debated on the wiseness of staying in the guest house if anymore 'friends' of the Sheriff showed up.

Hearing that order made Jack remember he didn't have time to play. "I do not need Castiel's help to burn this cretin, Winchester," he growled, whirling on one leg to spin kick the enforcer away from him before igniting his power into a sphere of fire that he tossed into the guy, promptly imploding him. "I just needed time to get breathing room."

"Dean, if Zachariah is willing to send his agents to eliminate…them then the danger of staying in one place is too great. We must leave," he warned seriously, trying to ignore the smirk on Jack's face after the mystic had healed Stan's bullet graze. "I can understand why he'd want you dealt with but why the girl?"

"Uh, probably because I made her remember the real events she lived through and the fact that she saw both the good Sheriff and good old Uncle Zach while she was being tortured?" Jack suggested, shaking his head. "Damn, Cas, how the hell do you survive down here without getting your vessel killed?"

The Angel had just started to turn when Dean whistled, not looking amused. "Cas, you can't kill him since I've seen him scare the crap outta Zachariah and you, what the hell do you mean you 'made' her remember?" he demanded, feeling her tense against him and understanding the flashes now. "I really want that bastard dead, Cas."

"Killing Zachariah is not an easy thing for even another Angel to do, Dean," Castiel responded, fighting the more human urge to snarl when he heard the snicker. "Jack, don't you have to…visit a parent or something?"

"Yeah, me visit Mom or Dad when ice hasn't grown in Hell yet," Jack chuckled, rolling his eyes but then glanced at Stan. "I'm taking him outta here since this is way beyond just him without the rest of the 'Raiders," he decided, ignoring the protesting mercenary. "I'll be back. Just get Morgan someplace safe and do not, I stress, do not go after your brother until I'm back, Dean."

Waiting until the mystic had teleported out to smirk, Dean shook his head. "That'll happen when I'm dead," he decided, motioning to the bag on the floor. "Grab it and the Sheriff. We're blowing this place so I can talk to her and figure out where in this tiny piece of Hell they're keeping my brother." he stated, not willing to put Morgan down until he had her inside the Impala.

"I would think blowing this house up would alert those we are trying to avoid, wouldn't it?" Castiel asked but did grab the bag and the still unconscious Sheriff for the uptight young hunter. "Dean, you do realize dealing with Lucifer and the Apocalypse is enough on your mind right now without having gotten into some sort of domestic issue or…"

"Cas, I think of you as a friend but you're a friend who doesn't know jack squat about me and Sam and you have no idea how complicated my relationship with her is," Dean cut him off before the Angel could say something he'd end up regretting. "So, let me spell it out for you. Other than my brother and my car, there has been one person in my life that I would, without doubt or hesitation, kill for and that's Morgan. So, you're better off not going in the direction you were planning too."

Walking away after taking a quick look to be sure all the noise hadn't alerted the main house, Dean headed for where he'd pulled the Impala and had almost breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the sandy haired boy leaning against the car. "Sonuvabitch," he breathed, seeing Morgan tense in his arms after he'd thought she'd fallen asleep and wasn't sure if she was awake or in pain. "Shane,"

"So, I guess Jack won't be needing the stuff for that summoning spell after all, huh?" he motioned to the tiny bag he'd tossed into the backseat, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester," he murmured. "If I had known about Dad or about…no, I did know that he was doing something wrong and that's why he didn't want to help find Aunt Morgan…that's why I called you. I knew you'd save her because if you weren't her friend she wouldn't have cried so much when she found out how bad you and your brother were hurting after losing your friends."

Swallowing the lump that admission caused, Dean merely shook his head. "Kid, you did the right thing in calling us," he assured him as the boy quickly opened the passenger door so he wouldn't have to disturb his friend anymore than was needed. "I can't promise how things will turn out with your Dad because he did something that pissed me off when he let her be hurt but if I can get my brother and Morgan outta this and not do permanent damage to him then for your sake, I will but…right now I can't promise."

"Aunt Morgan never makes promises either unless she's sure she can keep them," Shane grinned a little, repeating something his aunt had told him and while he didn't fully understand it, he thought it sounded important. "She said, she'd made a promise once a long time ago when she was my age and even though she meant to keep it, she couldn't and it ended up hurting someone she…oh." he stopped when he caught the way his new idol's face had twitched and the way his deep green eyes softened. "You were who she was talking about."

"Nah, probably my bratty little brother since she was always making Sammy promises back then," Dean cracked easily to put the teen at ease even though he felt his heart crack at those words, then he coughed as Castiel finally caught up. "Shane, is there anyplace in this town that I can take her until I can find Sam? I mean, someplace that no one would think to look or…"

The boy thought for a second before shrugging. "The old house on the south side is good since no one in town will go near it. It's been derelict since the '70's or something. Aunt Morgan owns it but Dad never knew that she bought it through proxy about five years ago."

"Uh-huh. why does that not surprise me?" Dean muttered under his breath, swearing that he was locking them both in Bobby's panic room until he got all the damn answers he wanted. "Okay, remember, if anyone besides a mystic or a merc that you know comes around asking about Morgan or us, you have no clue where we are and your Dad had to leave town for an emergency police thing or something. Can you handle that?"

"Dude, I've grown up listening to my Aunt and a bunch of hyper mercs," Shane smirked a lot like Morgan used to at his age. "I can handle lying to my family and people…just watch out for the Tolsons. If anyone else in this place is playing the wrong side, it'll be them."

Having gently eased his either sleeping or unconscious friend into the passenger seat and closing the door, he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll take care of her," he promised firmly, seeing the look of relief that passed through the teen's eyes as Dean got behind the wheel and started the car. "Cas, anyway you can shield us from prying eyes, ears, or snooping Angels?"

"I can make certain that no one can come close to this place you've chosen while you find Sam," the Angel sounded wary which for Dean meant that he was on board with this plan. "However, you are aware that the longer Sam is in Zachariah's hands the more liable he is to be permanently damaged?"

"Yeah, not telling me anything I don't know there, Cas," he muttered, looking next to him and finding it odd to have someone other than his little brother in that seat yet it wasn't as bad as when Cas had rode shotgun for that short while. It seemed to him that only two people in his life were meant to have that seat and that was Sam and… "Morg," he whispered, reaching across to brush the hair back from her face to see the livid bruises better now and he knew that if Zachariah had been willing to do this to her then he was deathly afraid of what he was doing to his little brother.

Elsewhere In Town:

"Ahh, the sound of a good day's work is always satisfying…even in this backwards place," Zachariah sighed, absently brushing dirt from the lapels on his dark gray suit as he listened to the ragged screams coming from elsewhere in the disgustingly filthy building he was currently standing in. "I told that boy I'd break the silent treatment but he didn't listen."

Hating to be on Earth for long periods, the bald Angel decided to make the best of it this time by expressing his more artistic talents…or at least he had until the fourth time he had to bring Sam Winchester back to consciousness. Then he decided to let the mortals play. They, he was forced to admit, had a penchant for doing enough damage to make the boy scream without doing anything life threatening.

Zachariah just knew he didn't have the patience for that type of slow work anymore. He preferred the quicker methods of using his powers to break, burn, or inflict grievous pain and torment. Not to mention the Tolson's way was much too bloody for him to remain clean if he were as close as he liked to be for this interrogation.

"I can't reach the Sheriff."

Forcing down his irritation at the whiny mortal voice, Zachariah reminded himself that when dealing with mortals, even backwards, country mortals, he needed to show patience. "Your Sheriff is an inbred moron who probably forgot his phone," he remarked calmly, frowning when the scream became hoarse. "Hmm, poor Sam isn't lasting long between passing out."

Milt Tolson cleared his throat, still not comfortable with the arrogant bald man's interference in what should've been a simple thing. "Shea might be a little slow about getting with the program but he knows how important this is. Neither his wife nor his Deputy have seen him this afternoon. Something feels wrong about this…"

"I can tell you exactly what is wrong," turning from the crack window in which he'd been watching the Tolson boys play at being torturers to roll his eyes at the senior. "Dean Winchester is what's wrong. Your precious Sheriff probably didn't do what he was supposed to do in time and he ran face to face with Dean. That being the case, I doubt if you'll see him anytime soon."

Clearly not happy with how blasé the Angel sounded, Tolson fought down the urge to slam a fist on the desk. "You said this was a simple thing. You said, lure Murray's sister back here to get those brothers you wanted to come. Now, she's still alive after seeing us, the brother you want is still on the loose and what good is cutting on that one gonna do if you don't tell his brother where the hell he is?" he demanded loudly, gagging as his throat suddenly felt tight.

"Milt, Milt, Milt, you have not dealt with Dean Winchester before so you have no idea what a huge pain in my ass he's been," Zachariah clucked his tongue as he walked back to dust off the rickety chair before easing his frame down onto it. "Let me tell you a story. I've been dealing with these sacks of meat since the Garrison was first given orders to charge into the bowels of Hell and drag Dean's sorry carcass out. You'd think a boy saved from an eternity of damnation would be grateful but ohhhh no, not Dean Winchester. He was still as cocky as before he went even though he'd broke in thirty years down there. I thought like you probably do. Give the punk a few well chosen nudges and he'd be on board with the whole Michael wearing him like a cheap suit plan but…he wasn't!"

Noticing that the mortal was now turning colors, he released the grip he had on his throat while continuing in a mildly sarcastic tone. "You see, despite going to Hell, being tortured on the racks for thirty years before he finally broke, there was only one other thing I soon learned that could break Dean…and that was his little brother. Dean would sacrifice, die, go to Hell even for Sam so I thought I could use that. I placed obstacles in front of them, made them doubt the other…I even made it so they were tore apart when Sam opened the cage to release Lucifer and still Dean went back for him," he shook his head in amazement. "Now, I know that I can threaten Sam to get to Dean but threatening's not enough. I need to break Sam in order to break his big brother but after my plans went awry a few months ago I learned that I had another obstacle in my road. An annoying little witch with ties to my backstabbing sister's brood but imagine my surprise when I found out that Dean had another weakness."

Always pleased to hear his own voice, Zachariah poured some of the fine wine he'd brought with him as he went on with his explanations to the now silently glaring mortal. "Finding out that there was one other person to whom Dean Winchester will or would do anything for made me so happy that I almost forgot how much I want to see this planet burn. So, I needed to see just what the boys were willing to do for this girl. Dean and Sam are always so easy to manipulate when they're reeling and emotionally shredded and I knew after what Lucifer did to them in Carthage that now was the perfect time to act. Sure, I might have went overboard in hurting the girl….Dean probably won't be happy when he sees those, but it had to be done and my boys didn't disappoint. Now, Sam doing what he did surprised me since I thought we'd have to work harder to get them separated but a Winchester isn't anything without the guilt they were bred on and little Sammy feels his like he feels his heart beat.," chuckling her lifted the glass in a toast. "Now, let me explain why we're ripping Sam apart so I can heal him and do it all again."

"Because you're a sadistic bastard who enjoys hearing the boy scream?" Tolson spat, expecting to be tossed or killed but actually earned a laugh.

"Well, yes but that's icing on the cake," Zachariah replied easily. "You see, you do not want Dean Winchester coming in here with his full mind and thoughts collected. If that happens, he'll mop the floor with your boys because he doesn't take anyone touching Sam well. No, we need him off balance and we need him so furious that he's not thinking straight. Bringing up the past he and girl share since he still believes what his Daddy told him, on top of her injuries that I was sure to make it clear who did those, to his fear for his brother will make him act recklessly when he does show up. That makes him easy to manage."

Tolson actually saw the wiseness in that plan but still didn't understand one thing. "So, how do you expect him to show up to be managed if he doesn't know where we are?" he asked. "I mean, even if he has Shea, it won't help since I never told Shea about this place."

"God, I remember why I don't deal with you people often," the Angel groaned, pouring another glass. "That's the reason I'm making sure that while I heal Sam physically, he retains all of the pain of the many, many hours of agony. That will ensure two things. Young Sam's pain will eventually get through to the link that the Harrison girl has with him and while it's not as strong as the one she shares with Dean, she will feel Sam. That will be what brings his brother to us and also, in order for her to feel that much pain since I know Sam's shielding it for the moment, the utter agony that will hit her will also take her out of this fight. I do not want her involved since her abilities make her actually more dangerous to me than even another Angel. So, Sam's pain knocks her out, Dean's emotions will make him leap before he thinks and I'll break Dean the way not even Alistair could have dreamed of doing because to save both his brother and his whore, he'll have to give in to Michael."

Seeing the mortal finally understanding, Zachariah stood to go down to the floor and expand his frustrations on his helpless prisoner some more. "Pity though that while Sam's body might survive this, his mind never will. Of course that will make it easier for Lucifer since even a child like mind can say yes," he laughed all the way downstairs.

Even a man who has killed and tortured as many people over the years as Milt Tolson had couldn't help but feel a little stirring of pity for the boy they currently had strapped to a table. He regretted, not for the first time this cycle, having to deal with this so-called Angel of the Lord.

Meanwhile…:

"How in the hell did ya idjits turn a simple rescue into this crap?"

Wincing as the loud and highly incredulous voice of Bobby Singer seemed to echo through his head, Dean kept the phone away from his ear until he was nearly certain that the yelling had died down.

"Bobby, I told you how it happened," he argued, going on quickly before the older hunter took off again. "I just need you to tear the history of this town apart. Find out who the bigwigs were back then and now are, see if there are any likely candidates for who might be helping Zachariah out, especially the Tolson family since that's who the kid said to steer clear of."

Wheeling around his desk back in South Dakota, Bobby was at the stage of Winchester frustration that he felt like banging his head into a wall but picked up a pen to write down some notes when he saw heard the flutter of wings, a crash in his pantry and another flutter of wings and rubbed his face.

"What the hell did Castiel just zip in and outta my house for, Dean?" he demanded.

Turning to see the just mentioned Angel reappearing with his arms full of things taken from Bobby's, the elder Winchester winced. "Ahhh, he's trying to make sure we're secure in the house we're staying at. Guess he feels the usual anti-Angel sigals just aren't enough this time," he shrugged, shifting from where he was sitting on the edge of a worn metal desk in what should've been the living room so he could keep an eye on the still knocked out and handcuffed Sheriff. "Just find out what you can."

Hanging up before Bobby could give him an opinion or a lecture, Dean made certain the Sheriff wasn't going anywhere if he did wake up when a sound from a back room made him tense before forcing himself to relax.

"Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty, Cas," he called, slipping his pistol away under his jacket but felt inside a pocket to check to be sure it was still there before heading for the only bedroom he deemed safe for humans.

The house that Shane Murray had directed them to was on the very outskirts of town, off a side road that unless you knew or had been told a road was there would have been missed. Up a road that had Dean offering silent apologies to his car the entire trip up until they came to a run down two story abandoned house that had certainly seen better days.

Expecting the inside to look as bad as the outside, he'd been shocked to see that certain parts had been fixed enough to allow habitation…if he wanted to picture someone living in this mess, that is.

He'd debated on laying Morgan down in the back bedroom even though it had clearly been recently remade into one if he took the slightly worn double bed as an indication. Dean just wasn't sure he liked the implications of who had been staying here since the only heat available was a couple portable kerosene heaters that he honestly wouldn't have trusted not to blow up so he'd sent Castiel on a run to find him more acceptable heating for the time being.

While the still grumbling Angel had worked on securing their little base, Dean had explored what he could of the house without going upstairs since even he wouldn't trust those stairs. He'd been relieved to find out the well supplying the house with water still worked which again made him wonder who the hell had fixed it up like this and he feared the answer.

"So, do I even want to ask why you'd buy this dump and please don't tell me you've been staying here," he called out to the closed adjoining bathroom door once he noticed his friend wasn't in the bed.

The door opened a crack so he could hear the sink running. "I bought it so Shane'd have a place to hang out when the homelife got too much," she responded after a couple seconds but the low curse didn't miss him.

"You know without Blackwell around you'll have to let me see those eventually," Dean spoke casually, picturing the look that comment earned him as he sat on the bed to open the nightstand and whistled lowly. "Damn. You got enough knives in this drawer?" he asked, while moving the sheaths aside to snoop when a yellowed envelope caught his attention because he recognized his brother's handwriting.

"I know John didn't teach you a lot in the way of manners but I'm sure Bobby told you about snooping through people's nightstands without…" Morgan had stepped out of the bathroom with a clean shirt in her hand that she'd planned to try to change into when she saw Dean sitting on the bed holding a couple faded envelopes and she stopped. "Dean…"

Looking up, the confusion plain in his eyes but so was a spark of anger when he waved the letters. "How long has Sam been writing to you and how the hell did he know where to send 'em?" he demanded, swearing his kill his brother.

"You want to level the tone and the attitude now or is this going to turn into a fight you won't like?" she sighed, snatching the letters away to shove them back in her duffel but kept her back to him when she heard the intake of breath.

"I haven't known where you've been since you took off that damn night and some of these letters are dated a few months after that!" he snapped, fighting to keep his temper in check but for some reason finding out that his brother had been writing to her annoyed the hell out of him. "No calls, no visits, at least not that I knew of, and Sam's been writing to you? How long, Morgan?"

Sitting on the opposite side of the bed away from Dean, she considered this answer since if she told him the truth it would end up hurting him but not for the reason he was probably considering. "He sent the letters through Kelly's address in Kentucky," she replied quietly, knowing his temper was on the brink already after recent events and accepting that she wasn't in any shape to deal with it. "They started coming about month after I left South Dakota and the last one was probably a week before the fire in Stanford because I was planning a trip to California to smack your brother for thinking about proposing to the blond Barbie wannabe."

Fighting to keep a straight face after that comment, Dean coughed and reminded himself that he was angry. "So, you'd write back to my brother but I never deserved a damn note to even say you were still alive?" he demanded, snorting. "That's real good. So I guess Dad was right and we had absolutely nothing between us but…" he broke off when the light by the bed broke into shards of glass.

"You don't even want to go there right now, Dean," she warned softly, shutting her eyes to avoid seeing both the hurt on his face and the pain of their past. "If you're still willing to take what your Dad told you at face value then…"

"You wrote to Sam, damn it!" Dean shouted, turning on the bed to reach for her on instinct when he felt the warning zing go through his hand before he touched her. "How is that not going to tell me that what Dad said was true when you'd write to my little brother but not to me? You left me, Morgan! You left without any word as to why and then I find out that not only have you been keeping an eye on us but you actually wrote back to my…"

"You stupid son of a bitch!" anger, pain, and exhaustion finally made Morgan break as she stood up quickly, a little too quickly when she reached for the wall to steady herself, and faced him fully. "I did write to you!" she snapped back, forcing herself to back off when she noticed the change in his eyes. "Let this go until we get Sam back, Dean. You can't be distracted and you're getting distracted by this."

"I've been distracted since you tried to slit my damn throat in a cemetery sixteen years ago!" he shot back, voice raising as he took two steps toward her only to stop when she stepped back, a look of wary fear forming that stopped him cold and something Zachariah had said on the phone came back to him. "When I talked to my less than favorite Angel he mentioned something about a scar on your shoulder from that night you and Dad had it out. Morgan, what the hell happened between you and Dad to make him turn on you?" he asked, hating that he was putting the letter thing off but something told him that this was also important since Sam blamed himself for the incident between her and their Father. "Sam said it was his fault what happened but that never made sense."

Thrown by his sudden switch in topics and unsettled by the sudden burning pain she was experiencing, Morgan went to wave him off when the pain shot from her back into her stomach and she nearly doubled up if his arm hadn't reached out to support her in time.

"Easy, sit down," watching her face, Dean sat next to her on the bed to wait out the pain which he knew it normally leveled off. "We need to talk, Morgan," he told her quietly, letting his hand settle on her shoulder but felt her tense as he slid it lower to feel the heat under her shirt at the small of her back. "How'd Zach know we were connected?" he asked suddenly, recalling the easiest way to get anything out of her was to bring it up suddenly and was pleased that it still worked.

"New Orleans, probably," she murmured, nearly rocking against the pain now until Dean's arm gently moved to bring her against his side as he had so long ago when it would be just them after Sam had been put to bed. "Bloody annoying…buggers nailed me down there. I don't have a lot of memory of what went on except Jack's brother threw on hell of a fit on Zachariah's ass but I think he…I just recall pain and then my memories were like sent into overload or something."

Nodding, Dean kept his arm loose even as he was struggling not to tense. He knew what had happened and it gave him another reason to hurt that fat braggart. "I'm sorry he hurt you just to get at us," he murmured, feeling her lean closer as if his presence would ease the pain. "This crap, the Angels, Lucifer and stuff, is one of the reasons I…I was sort of glad you stayed away from me and Sam. Having Sammy hurt has always been one thing but you…I don't want you involved."

"Little late, luv," she replied tightly, not understanding this pain because it was hurting where she didn't have any wounds. "I kinda got involved when I stopped those hunters from killing Sammy a few months ago…which by the way, I so owe you for leaving him on his own to even get nailed by them."

Figuring that was coming, Dean decided to avoid that topic in favor of one he wanted. "Tell me about what happened between you and Dad," he suggested softly, hearing a bang from the other part of the house and hoping Castiel wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be.

As the pain slowly eased, Morgan recognized the technique he was using as the one he'd tried when they were younger and wanted his way. "No," she refused tightly, starting to pull away but his arm tightened to keep her against him. "Dean, not while Sam's…"

"Until I get an idea on where he's at, neither of us are much good to Sammy. Zachariah's going to use his memories against him and Sam's worst ones right now, the ones that have been bugging him are a cross between losing Jo and Ellen in Carthage and losing you," he countered firmly, using his other hand to lift her face to him. "Angel, it's been fifteen years. You don't want to get into the night you left, fine. Then tell me what the hell set you and Dad at each other's throats because before that all happened…he was coping with you as my friend. I woke up after that whole mess in Flagstaff with Sam and I know I went to sleep at Pastor Jim's, I woke up in a cabin in the Nevada mountains. Tell me how you found out about it."

Forced to look into her friend's green eyes, Morgan bit her lip. Too tired to argue with him anymore and figuring he did deserve to know why Sam blamed himself so much.

"Jim called me when he saw how badly you were hurt and because Sam was so scared," she sighed, voice low as if usually was when she was tired or hurt too seriously and she let him settle them back against the headboard. "Sammy already blamed himself, Dean. He knew John had hurt you because he ran away and he had a damn bruise on his arm and on his neck that sort of pissed me off…before I had even seen what you looked like."

"Sam had marks on him?" Dean frowned, not recalling that but also knowing that he barely remembered much of anything from the moment his Dad had stormed out of their motel room to hunt down his youngest son to when he woke up fully a week later with only Morgan and his brother with him. "He didn't when I woke up."

Lifting her head enough to roll her eyes, Morgan smiled sadly. "You'd been out with a fever and infection for over a week, slick. I'd made damn bloody certain that his injuries were gone as soon as I got back from…"

"From where, Morgan?" Dean pounced on her hesitation, seeing her fingers reach for her neck as if searching for something and guessed what it was. "What happened when Jim called you?" he asked, figuring on her temper when she'd seen Sammy and guessing it probably tripled if Jim had let her see his own injuries. "Shit. You went to Dad, didn't you? That's how Sammy and I ended up with you and not Pastor Jim. You went after my Dad, didn't you, Morgan?"

He didn't sound angry. In fact, Dean didn't really sound surprised either. His tone was more of realization as some of the tension left him though he couldn't say why the thought of his then fourteen year old friend going to confront his probably still furious Father didn't scare the hell out of him, he couldn't say. "What happened, Angel?" he asked more gently this time, letting his hand begin to card through her long hair as he used to. "Something went on that day between you and Dad…he saw your powers."

Letting her eyes settle on the gold amulet he still wore, she didn't reply to that for a long while until he tugged gently on a strand of hair.

"Tell me," he felt the sigh more than hear it and knew he'd won this battle even before he heard her start to speak…

Flashback: the back country of Wyoming 1995:

"Sooo, you gonna tell what burr crawled up your ass and where Ace is?" Caleb asked easily, ignoring the warning looks Bobby was sending him and the seething anger still coming off John Winchester. "I thought you'd drop Sammy off with Jim but Dean normally comes with you."

Having joined up with the two other hunters just that morning after an all night drive, John was still furious at his sons behavior and it showed. "Until Dean learns how to be a proper hunter and grows up some he won't be going anywhere," he snapped, looking over the file that Bobby had given him.

"Learns to be…" Caleb blinked, hearing the anger but ignoring it. "Since when isn't he a proper hunter? He's nearly as good as me, at least so…"

"Let it drop, Caleb," John growled, glancing at the knuckles of his right fist to still see the bruises and scabs. "Dean screwed up something vital so…"

Bobby had been watching the man closely since he showed up and wasn't caring for the way he was acting or the bloody shirt in the rear of the Impala. "Dean hurt, John?" he asked suddenly, recognizing the shirt as his.

"Mind your own business, Singer," John growled, refusing to look up until Bobby's hand slammed down on the hood of his beat up car. "Bobby…"

"What the hell happened, John?" the grizzled hunter wanted to know as Caleb looked on. "I tried to call your motel but got no answer even though when I talked to you, you said Dean was there. Caleb said the last time he talked to the kid he sounded agitated, now you show up after dropping both boys with Jim and won't talk about it."

"Because it's my goddamn business what happens with my sons and how I handle Dean's stupidity!" the other man snapped, seeing his friend's back go rigid and he sighed. "Look, Bobby, let it drop. Dean's fine. He's…whoa!"

A sudden but highly trained burst of wind blew through the thin pack of trees the hunters had gathered in to physically throw a startled John off his feet and a good thirty meters away to land hard against the trunk of a huge tree, pinned there as if held by an invisible hand.

"Yeah, funny how your definition of fine might differ from that of a bleedin' sane person, old man."

Grabbing Caleb's wrist before the younger hunter could draw his sidearm, Bobby looked over his shoulder to see a young girl standing there watching them with curious blue eyes. Blue eyes that he noticed were sparking with power and he suddenly had an idea who they were dealing with and he wondered what the hell Jim Murphy hadn't told him.

"Pull the gun and eat it, mate," Morgan warned as she walked past the men until she was about a foot from John, cocking her head in a way that reminded Bobby of Dean.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester. We need to have a little chat…about your sons, or at least one of them," she began calmly, not appearing concerned that she was amidst three hunters as she went on. "You might remember me. We met a couple times at Jim's place. I'm a…friend to your sons, which is more than I can honestly say for you right now."

John shook his head to clear it, quickly realizing that he was pinned to the tree as he looked up at her with narrowing eyes as recognition struck. "You? Your…" he grunted as the same invisible force seemed to shove him harder.

"Umm, Bobby?" Caleb coughed, scratching the back of his neck. "This wouldn't happen to be the sweet, adorable, funny, cute little British girl that Ace's been going on and on about, would it?" he asked curiously, seeing the way the ends of her hair had started to appear as if they were floating.

"Yep, that's her," Bobby nodded, having met the girl on Sam's last birthday since Jim had arranged to have a little something for the boy and the hunter had instantly noticed that Dean had been paying more attention to her than anything else.

"Uh-huh." the younger man considered it, having no doubt as to what he was looking at. "Damn, Ace sure picks one hellava spitfire to fall for, didn't he?" he mused, leaning against the car to watch. "Hell, she can chew our boy up and spit him out."

Recalling something Jim had told him, Bobby laughed. "She did that already, according to Jim."

"Hey!" Morgan threw a glare back over her shoulder at them, clearing disgusted. "That was not my fault," she argued, shrugging. "I was after a zombie and Dean stuck his foot in my op. Now shut up while I decide if I want to fry this son of a bitch."

Head still ringing but clear, John gritted his teeth as he struggled to move. "What…are you?"

"What I am isn't your issue, John," she replied tightly, moving a hand to throw him back harder against the rough tree bark. "The issue is whether or not I burn you for what you've done. You see, I agreed with Jim to steer clear of the boys when you were home because hey, I know you're a hunter, I have powers, which you wouldn't have found out about if you hadn't decided to make Dean look like a bloody raw steak run through a meat grinder!"

The girl's words were said loud enough for both other hunters to hear and Bobby stood straighter but didn't take a step, keeping a tight hand on Caleb.

"I ignored the bruises I'd see on Dean. Oh, I knew he was lying when he said he'd fallen in training or took a hit wrong with something or the other but I let it go until this time," Morgan went on coldly, seeing the dark fury in the man's eyes. "Seeing Sam scared and shaking because it was his fault his brother was hurt is one strike against you but seeing every damn welt, boot print, bruise or open cut on Dean? Serious second strike and one that would, if you were anyone else would have had you dead the second I touched Dean and saw what you did to him!" she snapped, accent vanishing as her voice turned cold and she knelt down while pulling the very same knife she had on Dean one night. Only this time, she was fairly certain it would see blood.

"It's…none…of your business," he gritted, anger still there but something in her eyes was warning him also. "My boy…so I can punish as…argh!"

An invisible fist gripped his throat as Morgan's blue eyes darkened to a near midnight blue while power sparked from her fingers. "Let me make one thing very clear to you. You will never put your hands on either Dean or Sammy ever again," she declared very firmly, locking eyes with the senior Winchester to be sure he understood. "You are breathing clean air this time because of them. You are still alive, despite what my heart is telling me, because I won't hurt Dean by killing you. For some reason that bloody escapes me, he loves you."

Morgan shook her head wryly. "He doesn't see what you're doing to him, what you've done to Sam but he loves you so you live to breathe and hunt another day," she paused to tighten the fist around his throat until she was certain she had his full attention. "So, this is how it's going to play out. You're going to have your little hunt here with Bobby and the kid with the attitude and then you're going to go on another hunt, and another hunt. You are not going back to Blue Earth for your sons. In fact, you're going to leave your sons alone for the entire goddamn summer," she told him calmly, seeing him start to throw a curse or objection her way and merely moved a hand to cut off his air. "You aren't going to come anywhere near them until it's time for Sam to start school. By then you'd better have come to understand that you have one more strike going for you and if you ever touch either of them, if you ever touch Dean again like this, I will kill you," she promised, standing up easily but not releasing him yet. "Don't bother threatening Jim either because he won't know where they are. When Dean and Sam are ready to come back, they'll go to Bobby's place and he can call you but not until Dean says so and not until Sammy loses the haunted look in those big eyes."

Walking away, Morgan paused to look back at the still pinned and seething John, knowing that perhaps she'd made a mistake in one way but not doubting that protecting her friends was more important than their Dad learning about her.

"You trust him with a gun this hunt and you're off your rocker, Singer," she spoke to Bobby as she passed, only tensing as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Not wise."

"How bad's the boy hurt?" he asked, knowing by the way her eyes dropped that John had went over the line that he warned him not to cross. "John'll look for them."

Shrugging, she decided to wait until she was gone to release the hold. "He can look but all he'll find will be my friends and that won't be fun because they don't like hunters. Once I tell them why I'm taking the boys away for awhile, John Winchester will be lucky if a Wendigo eats him," she smiled at the thought, turning to look at the bearded hunter and read his honest concern. "Talk to Jim. He'll tell you about Dean. I won't ask you to trust me because now that you've seen me do that I know trust is out but I hope you know that I won't hurt Dean or Sammy. I…well, Sam's a cute kid with an annoying, obnoxious brother so…shut up."

Bobby quickly elbowed Caleb who had been humming a tune about marriage, kissing, and trees under his breath and then laughed. "Riiight, and she ain't as hung up on Ace as he is on her," he snorted, waving his hands as he headed to help John up as soon as he could move. "Want me to slam his head into a tree?"

"No, I plan on doin' that," Bobby growled, looking back at the big blue eyes in front of him to nod. "Get going. I'll give Jim a holler later to find out what the hell's happening."

The small smile was sweet and a bit shy as she seemed to look up and call to someone before disappearing and with a gasp, John was shoving to his feet only to have Caleb slam him back.

"Let go!" John snapped, furious that he'd been so foolish as to let his son get mixed up with… "I need to get back to…"

"You're not going anywhere except maybe to the ER, John," Bobby growled, taking his hat off which was Caleb's signal to get the hell out of the way. "I've warned you before not to loose your damn temper with those boys and I told you after that one damn time that I'd beat the crap outta you if Dean ever had a mark on him that couldn't be explained…well, I think that little visit tells me that he has more than a few. You're going to hunt with us and then you and I are going to Jim's and if I don't like what he tells me, you'll be spending the summer in a goddamn bodycast!" he snapped, throwing one punch that knocked John out cold. "Damn idjit Winchesters!"

Caleb gazed at the unconscious form of his mentor, pursing his lips as if in thought before nodding and looking up at Bobby. "I like her. If her and Dean don't kill one another, I think he should marry her and have little Dean's…no, on second thought, the world can't take more than one Dean Winchester."

Flashback, Blue Earth, Montana, 1995:

"Why's Dean so hot, Pastor Jim?" twelve year old Sam Winchester was asking, tears brimming in his large hazel eyes as he hovered by his brother's bed while Jim Murphy worked on cooling the boy off after his fever had spiked. "Why's he crying? What's wrong?"

Struggling not to snap out a reply to the frightened boy, Jim was trying to find an answer that wouldn't scare him more when he felt the air change again and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Do I need to prepare for triage or a burial?"

"Neither, he got off with maybe a bleedin' concussion and some tree bark burn from me. I can't promise what Singer does to him though," Morgan replied, stepping into the bedroom to kneel down just as Sam again went straight for her. "Sammy, it's okay. Jim's taking care of Dean and I have a surprise for you," she whispered in his ear.

Wiping his eyes, the younger Winchester was unaware when he snuggled into the girl's arms after she led him to the other bed to sit on it while Jim continued to wipe a feverish Dean down.

Now that the blood had been cleaned off, she could see the more livid bruises and the spot where he clearly had a broken rib and Morgan bit her lip to keep from cursing as she focused on Sam. Gently stroking a hand over his hair, she eased him closer. "You, Dean and I are going to go someplace until Dean's feeling better," she told him, seeing his eyes grow wider but also caught Jim's look but ignored him. "You know where Nevada is, right?"

"It's hot and has deserts," Sam nodded, frowning. "Dad hunted something there one time. He yelled at De'n cause I got sick from the heat."

A bowl cluttered as Jim dropped it too heavily but Morgan smiled. "Yeah, but Nevada also has mountains and high in the mountains there's snow for awhile and…that's where we're going," she told the boy, watching as his eyes seemed to be calming down. "High in the mountains in a cabin so you can play in the snow, build a snowman and…maybe after he's better, toss a snowball at your big brother."

"We haven't been in the snow in…" Sam thought for awhile but couldn't quite recall the last time they'd stayed something long enough to play in the snow. His Dad never allowed him to do that and that made him frown again. "Will…will Dad let us go though? He said we had to stay here or else he'll hurt…"

Smile tightening, Morgan ran a gentle hand down his arm but paused over the bruise to picture it gone in her mind…which was something she planned to do with Dean as soon as she lost the Holy Man. "No, Sammy. Your Daddy's going to be hunting with Bobby for a long while so you and Dean are gonna come with me for a few months until he's better."

"Dad…said okay?" Sam was amazed but too happy just to be with his brother and new friend that he really didn't care. "Thanks, Morgan!" he threw his arms around her neck in a bone crushing hug that made her laugh. "Dean'll get better cause you're here! I know it!"

"Yeah, Dean'll get better," Morgan assured him, feeling Jim's eyes. "Sam, how about going to check your duffel to see what you might need before we go?" she suggested but the boy was already out of the room. "Yeah, keeping him still will be fun. Alright, you want to say what you've been dying to?"

Jim Murphy had known she'd probably do this but wasn't sure if she understood the risks. "I know you have people who can help take care of Dean so that doesn't worry me," he began grimly, wiping the dried blood from his hands before laying the back of one hand on the teenage boy's head to feel the fever still raging. "I'm more concerned on what John will do once the boys go back…if he leaves them that long."

"He'll leave 'em alone if he knows what's good for him," she shrugged, looking over to see a young dark haired man about twenty had appeared in the room. "I know he won't be happy with me and…staying with them after I take 'em to Bobby's is a huge debate but right now, Jim, all I want is them someplace safe. Someplace that Sam can play like a real twelve year old."

"Just be careful, Morgan," Jim urged, seeing the doubt on the new arrival's face. "I'll handle John and Bobby but you be careful."

Laughing, Morgan ran a hand down Dean's back and as she did so, some of the more serious bruises seemed to lessen. "Jim, they're my friends. I'll protect them or die trying," she replied then went to find Sam.

"It's the die trying part that worries me," Devan MacShayne muttered, knowing he was there to act as transportation to Kelly's family cabin in the mountains above Taho. "She's in too deep to know what she'll lose if this backfires, Jim."

"They both are," Jim sighed, looking as Dean twisted restlessly in the fever but then settled a second before Morgan and Sam reentered and he wanted to swear violently as he realized what was happening but could only pray it worked out for all three of them. "May God protect you all," he whispered after Devan worked his power and he was alone in his house wondering how long he had until Bobby called.

Present Day, Birkstown, West Virginia:

"Damn," Dean whispered, recalling bits and pieces of feverish dreams but the one solid memory he had was that no matter when he'd open his eyes, even fevered and delirious, Morgan was always beside him. He remembered the night he'd come to fully and found his little brother curled up beside him, covered in a blanket while the teenage girl sat in a chair by the bed.

Right then what stood out in his mind was that his friend had faced down his Father without care or thought to the danger to herself…only to…

"Sonuvabitch," he groaned, looking down to see that Morgan had gone silent but had remained against his side even though he could feel the tears fall on his hand. "He could've hurt you," he finally spoke, shocked that he could keep an even tone.

"No, he couldn't," she replied quietly, not looking up at him as she went to wipe the annoying tears away when the back of his knuckles brushed them away before lifting her face up to meet his eyes. "So long as I was prepared, I could handle him and I figured Bobby wouldn't get involved."

Nodding, Dean figured that much as well but also wondered just how much the older man really knew about things when something else hit him. "If you were prepared?" he repeated, beginning to get a picture in his mind and not liking it. "You weren't prepared for Dad at Bobby's were you? Dad came too soon and you hadn't recovered full strength from the mountains or from those damn truckers at the diner that day…" when she didn't respond or deny, Dean knew he was on the right track. So with a leap of faith he moved his hand up to carefully slid the collar of her loose and ragged sweatshirt aside to look at her right shoulder and seen the jagged white thin scar of what he knew was a knife wound. "I have the knife that did this, don't I?" he asked her softly. "Dad's knife made this scar, didn't it?"

"Let it go, Dean," Morgan whispered, not wanting this right then when she suddenly felt a brief burst of pain shoot through her head but then it was gone. "You want to know about that night? Fine, but after we get Sam back and after we're someplace else. I just want to be someplace else with…Oh!" a burst of fire like pain took her off guard and she grabbed for her head a second before the rest of her seemed to follow in agony. "Dean!"

Taken off guard by the young woman's sudden cry of pain, Dean was quick to ease her down on the bed but kept his hand firm on her shoulder in order to still her from trembling. "Morgan? What's wrong?" he demanded, not liking the near panic in her eyes or by the way she was shaking. "Where's it hurt or…"

"It's not her pain, Dean," Castiel spoke from the door, looking grimmer than normal. "She is feeling Sam."

"She had a link with me, not Sam," he argued, seeing her grab for his arm. "Angel, talk to me or tell me what's wrong and I'll make it stop."

Fighting for breath now, she could see the unwanted images flashing in her mind and she wasn't sure if the tears were now of pain or fear for what she was seeing. "Dean…" she managed to grip his hand tight. "Sammy…oh, God…he's hurt."

Feeling his heart nearly jump out of his chest at those words, Dean forced down his first reaction to just go and tear apart the town until he found his little brother but he knew that wouldn't work. "Okay, where is he, babe?" he asked, already knowing she knew that answer and why. "They hurting him so you'd feel him? You can fell Sam? Like you can…could feel me?"

"Still…feel…you, stupid," she hissed, needing to keep her focus on Dean's eyes so she didn't close her own and see the bloody images being forced on her. "Just feel…Sam a little less because…he's…yours."

"Ours," Dean corrected automatically and without doubt as he gripped her hand in both of his. "Sammy's ours just like when he was twelve. Yours and mine, babe and I'll get our Sammy back but I need you to show me where he is."

Castiel knew that was a bad idea even as Morgan was trying to refuse but Dean's fingers touched her face in a way that told the Angel that this was between them.

"I know, but it's the only way to find him without me going postal on the soon to be ex-Sheriff and while I'm willing to do whatever it takes to find Sam, that's not something either of us would want me to do," he told her, letting his thumb brush over her mouth. "Angel, trust me. I can handle finding him without getting myself and Sammy killed. Show me, please."

Hating this idea, another wave of painful images shot and she could hear her friend screaming for Dean. "Keep your head," she hissed, turning his hand so their palms touched and opening the link that she'd been shielding him from so he could get the basic images of location but not all of what she was sure that bastard of an Angel wanted him to see.

"Sam," Dean whispered, seeing more than he knew she'd intended he was quick to soothe as Morgan suddenly went limp. "Morgan?" he gently felt for a pulse and finding one, reached for the blanket to cover her. "I'll find him," he promised softly, feeling her fingers try to hold on. "You're staying here."

"You…can't go in…there alone," she argued, too weak to do him any good but also knowing he was walking straight into a damn trap. "Dean…they're waiting for you."

"I know and I won't disappoint 'em," he shrugged, seeing the fear but also the shock as he knelt next to the bed to take something from his pocket and close her hand around his mother's necklace. "I'm putting this back on you as soon as I get Sammy back here," Dean remarked, hesitating before leaning over to kiss her fully as a thought nibbled the back of his head that said this might be his last chance. "Be safe, babe."

Looking over at Castiel he shook his head as the Angel followed his quick strides. "You're staying with her until Jack gets back," he ordered, not wanting to leave Morgan alone while she was this weak because he wouldn't put it past Zachariah to make a move on her again. "I'm going for Sam and God take the first son of a bitch who gets in my way," he growled, slamming the door of the Impala before Castiel could object and sent stones and dirt flying as the car burned away.

"Cas!" Jack MacShayne snapped just as the Angel was reentering the house to check on his current change only to see that she'd made it as far as the living room before collapsing. "You need to zap Winchester the hell back here!"

"That would be both dangerous and unwise given Dean's current state of mind, Jack," he told his nephew dryly.

Morgan was batting the mystic off while she fought to regain her legs, knowing that Dean needed help and while she couldn't stand real well and was seeing three of everything, she did have enough power maybe to protect him and Sam. "Told ya," she shot at her mystic who growled at her in a dead language even as Cas was chastising her about being out of bed.

"Guys!" Jack finally shouted to be heard over what Morgan was calling Castiel, only going on once he was certain he had full attention and when he did it was in a much quieter and somber tone. "Dean's not walking into a trap," he replied grimly, eyes dark. "He's walking into a goddamn massacre because… Lucifer has been summoned. He's here for his vessel and this time, he's not going to leave without it."

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the update delay. This one grew bigger than I thought it would. So, what can I say? Lucifer. Zachariah. Demented humans that Dean never has understood. Will our boys survive the coming chapter in one piece or will a certain former Archangel have a say in all this? Can Morgan and Castiel help Dean before he loses more than his life or body? Come back for Chapter 6 to find out…