Author's Note: Yeah, so I've been slow to finish this chapter. Hunt me down why don't you? Anyhow, this took much longer than it should have but hopefully you'll think it's worth it.

Chattanooga, Tennessee

Alle Wunjo took one last look at the body on the cold metal slab. The body itself wasn't unusual; not in the way that the local medical examiner would think. Alle had seen plenty of dead bodies before; it sometimes took years to hone the skill to determine if a death was related to the paranormal. She took the folder that suddenly appeared by her elbow, not bothering to acknowledge the other person as she flipped it open and skimmed the report. "You said one like this was found a few days ago? In Alabama?"

Sims took the folder back and nodded. "So you know what it is?" He had only been with the office for a year, but he knew when to call in help. Even when that meant breaking back into the office after hours so his contact could see the body herself.

"I know someone who will," Alle muttered as she pulled her phone from her pocket and ran through the contacts. She pulled a hundred dollar bill from her pocket and held it out, not looking up from her phone. "Thanks for the call."

She let herself out of office's back door, carefully stepping over the broken glass from the window. She was a few miles away before she got up the nerve to call Bobby. She didn't hunt anymore, not since a demon had thrown her off a roof, breaking both her legs and sending her into rehab for a year. Now she kept an ear to the ground and made phone calls, delegating work when she spotted it.

On the fifth ring he answered. "Singer here."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah," he mumbled tiredly into the phone. "Who is this?"

She hesitated, trying to remember the last time she had called him. "It's me, Alle Wunjo. Look—I heard you were looking for anything demon related. This might be something you want to know about."

She listened to him clear his throat. He hadn't hung up yet, a definite good sign for her. "Where are you?"

"Chattanooga," she replied quickly. "I heard from someone that you were looking for some—"

"Alle, what's going on down there? You find something or not?"

"I think so. It's not normal."

"Spill it."

"I heard about a body that was found so I went to check it out. It was completely exsanguinated."

"Could be a few things…"

"Bobby, it was also covered in sulphur. Single stab wound. And the body was found at a crossroads—"

Bobby cleared his throat. "I'll take a look into it."

"So you want me to—"

"No."

"Bobby, I'm not sure if you heard but one like it was found in Alabama. I was going to make a few phone calls and find out if it was near a demon's crossroad as well."

"Don't bother, Alle. I'll make a few calls from here."

"So you know what it is?"

"I'll take care of it," Bobby said before he dropped the call. It was late, or early, depending how you looked at it. He glanced up at the map he had pinned to the wall. Bobby sighed in frustration as he marked Chattanooga on the map. With the two Alle called about, that made seven bodies that he knew about. Undoubtedly more would be found. He wasn't sure what would be worse, the police finding Sam with a bloodless body in his hands or Crowley finding his crossroads demons were getting slaughtered. He'd probably get the death penalty either way and a real soul crushing detox on the way to it. He was going to have to hunt him down.

Delano, Tennessee

Alice ignored the ringing phone in her pocket and kept on digging. It was a few hours until sunrise and she wanted to be done in the cemetery before anyone came by. It was remote, but that didn't mean she was free to dig up a plot whenever she damn well felt like it. Besides, a new bishop was taking over the small church and being caught chest deep in a fresh grave wasn't the way she envisioned them meeting.

She hauled herself out of the hole and headed for the truck. She hadn't been home yet, except to grab a shovel from the barn. She'd bury Dean's bones and probably end up locking herself in her house for a month or two. However long it took to get over the disappointment of burying one of the boys.

The phone started ringing again. She brushed the dirt from her hands as she reached into her pocket. "What," she snapped into the phone as she pulled the crate to the edge of the truck's tailgate.

"We've got a problem," Bobby said.

"Bobby, it's 3am. I've been driving for days. I just spent the last few hours digging a grave, in the dark. I've got dirt in places you don't want to know about," Alice grumbled as she lifted the crate. "Your problems mean nothing to me, not until I get a shower."

"It's about Sam."

Alice set the crate back down, shifting the phone to her other ear. "Did he come back to Sioux Falls?"

"No."

"So he needs bail money?"

"I wish." Bobby cleared his throat before continuing. "He's killing crossroad demons."

Alice frowned. "If you didn't sound so worried, I'd think that killing demons was a good thing."

"Seven so far that I know about, bound to be more before this is over," Bobby explained as he stared up at the map on his wall. "The bodies were found at crossroads, each of them a known hot spot for demon deals."

"Have you tried calling him," Alice asked as she glanced up the hill to the graveyard. She was a few hours from a shower and she wanted to get this over with before dawn.

"No, I never thought of calling him and asking him to stop," Bobby spouted sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Don't get snippy with me, Singer," Alice snapped back. "I'm trying to bury Dean and you call about Sam working. As far as I'm concerned, it sounds like he's doing his job."

"The bodies were exsanguinated," Bobby stated.

"What—"

"The bodies didn't have any blood left in them," Bobby explained.

"I know what exsanguinated means," Alice hissed into the phone. "I'm not an idiot. I was going to ask if you're saying what I think you are. Because it sounds like you think Sam's draining the blood out of possessed people."

"That's exactly what I think," Bobby muttered into the phone. His voice was tired, but a tinge of disappointment could still be heard.

"Shit," Alice said loudly as she nearly dropped the crate. "Bobby, I really didn't think this was going to get any worse than Dean dying…."

"I know…"

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, hundreds of miles apart, both overwhelmed and exhausted from the recent events. Alice was the first to break the silence. "You wouldn't have called me unless you needed some help."

"He's close to you, at least he was. He's going to be hard to find."

"How close is he?"

"The most recent body is in Chattanooga. He's close."

"That's less than an hour from me," Alice said. "You think he's trying to get caught?"

"No. I think he's getting sloppy. And if he is, you might stand a chance of catching him."

Alice ran her hand over her face, brushing dirt from her cheek. She was tired and just wanted to bury Dean so she could get some shut eye. "Look Bobby, I need to finish burying Dean. I need a shower and a pot or two of coffee. Try to find me some help or at least a direction to start looking in."

"I can probably get us some help finding him," Bobby said cautiously. "He's killing demons….we might be able to get some help from the other team."

Alice nearly dropped her phone. "Don't say Crowley. If you do, lose my number and find someone else to help with the kid."

"Fine," Bobby snapped. "I'll make some calls. Becca should be back from her trip South."

Alice shoved her phone back in her pocket and grabbed the rough wooden crate. It was heavier than she expected but she slowly trudged back up the hill toward the small cemetery. It held a few dozen graves and not many new ones. The wrought iron fence that surrounded it made her smile. She remembered when it was put there, back when her husband had been alive. Now he was buried there, young in his life and forever ago in hers.

She pushed the squeaky gate open and took a step onto the consecrated ground before she was lifted off her feet and thrown back. She hit the ground hard, losing her breath as she did. The crate landed a few feet away, rolling down the hill before coming to a stop near the truck. She groaned and rubbed her shoulder as she rolled over and looked around for the crate in the dim light. She pulled her flashlight from her pocket and looked around as she got to her feet. She was alone.

"What the hell is going on," she mused out loud. "I don't have time for this shit."

She heard a nearby branch break and swung around, her pistol suddenly drawn. "Anyone out here?"

Only the slow hoot of an owl could be heard. She headed for the crate and picked it back up, heading back up the hill. This time she set the crate down at the gate and used her boot to try and slide it inside the cemetery. It refused to budge.

She pushed harder, only to have the crate slide back and hit her leg. "I'd like to think this is your doing Dean, but we're never that lucky," she muttered as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

Bobby answered on the first ring. "It's only been fifteen minutes, Alice."

"I'm not calling about Sam. I want to know what you did to this crate. Is there a seal I need to break or another one of your carvings I need to destroy?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to get the crate into the cemetery and I can't cross through the damn gate. What did you do to this thing? I can't feel any markings on the crate—"

"Alice, I haven't done anything to that crate. I want it buried."

Silence filled the line. "Alice?"

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm still here," she said nervously. "There's no reason his bones can't be here, is there?"

"No, not that I can think of," he said. "Anything unusual about the cemetery?"

"It's just a cemetery. Consecrated ground, the usual stuff."

"What happened?"

"I got thrown back when I tried to cross past the gate. Second time I just tried to push the crate in with my boot, it won't budge. Any clue what's going on?"

"Alice …I don't know why but you can bet your ass that trying to carry it onto consecrated ground made that thing go off like a paranormal beacon."

Without hesitation Alice hefted the crate and headed for the truck as fast as she could, abandoning the open grave. "What the hell do I do with it? Leave it?"

"I'd haul ass and get out of there. You're going to need to hide that crate until we know what's wrong with it," Bobby snapped.

"I'll call you back," Alice said as she threw the crate into the truck's cab. Driving as quickly as she could from the cemetery, Alice missed the silhouette moving through the trees.

Blue Ridge, Georgia

Sam let himself into the motel room and locked the door behind him. He glanced out the window before yanking the curtains shut and heading to the small bathroom. He didn't look at himself in the mirror as he pulled his jacket off, revealing the blood stained shirt underneath. He tossed it in the garbage can and started to scrub his hands. Blood stained his fingers, the red tinge refusing to fade. He had failed, again. The demon had refused his deal. He would try again, he had to.

He didn't both to answer his ringing phone, he knew it was Bobby. No one was calling him for help and he was on his own job. Freeing Dean's soul and sending it to Heaven. He wasn't sure how it was going to work but he had to do it. He had to do something. He'd call Cas once he got Dean's soul. Maybe Cas could find a way to get Dean's soul up there.

So far, all the cross road demons had refused to make him a deal. But that would change. He was getting more and more powerful with each demon he drained. Once he was powerful enough, he'd find the right demon and demand Dean's soul. He wouldn't even offer his soul in trade. He'd offer to let the demon live.

Sam dropped onto the bed and ran a tired hand over his eyes. His hands shook slightly, prompting him to remove the flask from his pocket. The demon blood was bitter and left his mouth tasting like ashes. He was running low; he'd have to find another demon soon.

It had been a long time since Sam had been on his own. His whole life had run parallel to Dean's, except for his stint in college. Their whole live they had fought together and sometimes with each other. They had slept side by side on the backseat of the Impala until the day John had handed Dean the keys, then their routine moved to the front seat, still side by side.

A ringing phone pulled Sam from another dream of Dean; he was half asleep when he answered it. "What?"

"Sam? Is that you? Where are you?"

He bolted upright in the bed, kicking himself for answering his phone in a dazed sleep. "Bobby—"

"Sam, Dean wouldn't want you walking this road—"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bobby," Sam said, denying what he knew.

"Seven bodies, Sam. Seven cross road demons. You think I was born yesterday?! I know what you're doing! You need to stop!"

Sam's heart raced, anger boiling inside. "I'm doing what I have to!"

Bobby practically growled into the phone. "I see a fool making a foolish mistake. You've done this once before and Dean hated it then too! You have to stop."

Sam wiped the stray tear from his cheek. His hands were shaking, from his anger or his newfound addiction he didn't know. "I'll stop when I'm done."

He listened to Bobby sigh. "What's your plan, kid? Once Crowley gets word of what's happening, you think he's going to let this go? He's going to kill you. And if he doesn't, the demon blood will. Let me help you."

Sam caught his reflection in the mirror across the room. He was pale, dark lines rimmed his eyes. In the dim light his face was angular and gaunt; skipping meals was beginning to show. He ran a hand over his unruly hair, now unable to look away from the mirror across the room. "Don't look for me, Bobby. Let me do this. If it's going to be my last job… that's okay with me."

"Well, it's not okay with me, you idjit! You hear me?! Your job is to live the life Dean fought for! And that means no revenge and certainly no drinking demon blood! Dean is dead and there is nothing you can do to change that!"

"I'm not looking to bring him back, Bobby…I want his soul. I need to know it's not down there burning," Sam yelled into the phone. The sound of glass caught his attention: the mirror had cracked. He fought to control his anger; wasting his power on being angry was a waste of resources. He'd need another demon soon; luckily there was nearby cross roads demon.

"Sam, listen to me son…you need to stop this. It's going to kill you. That's not what Dean would want for you," Bobby said. "Just tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

"So you can what? Throw me back in the panic room to detox?! No thanks," Sam snapped angrily as the mirror across the room shattered, sending shards into the air. "If the demon blood is going to kill me, I might as well finish what I started."

"Sam, please—"

"Leave me alone," Sam yelled into the phone as he grabbed his keys from the table. He dropped the call and yanked the motel door open and headed for the Impala. The light from the room cast shadows out into the dark morning. The engine rumbled to life as Sam sat behind the wheel, trying to calm down.

"Can't sleep?"

Sam glanced up the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Dean. Sam spun around on the seat but Dean was gone. A half mile down the road, Sam felt Dean's gaze again. He adjusted the mirror and glanced up at it. Dean's green gaze stared back at him. "Maybe if you weren't such a junkie you'd be able to sleep."

"Shut up!" Sam didn't turn around this time.

"You're looking a little rough Sammy boy. Running low, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Sam slammed on the brakes causing the car to skid on the wet pavement. When the car stopped, he looked in the mirror again. He was alone.

Delano, Tennessee

Alice's truck barely stopped before she jumped out, the crate in her arms. The truck's headlight's cast a set of long shadows toward her house; she ran up the steps as fast as she could. Thunder and lightning rumbled overhead while the wind seemed to fight her every step. She didn't bother to unlock the door, she didn't even know where her house key was in her bags; she kicked the door open and rushed into the dark house. She rushed through the hallway, dropping the crate in the center of her living room. After one quick glance up at the devil's trap on the ceiling she headed for her room.

The sudden storm rocked the house as she crawled halfway under her bed, trying to reach the rough rope handle on the side of the wooden box she needed. She heard glass shattering somewhere outside of her farmhouse. As the wind worsened, she shoved her way under the bed until she could grasp the rope handle. She scrambled back out from under the bed and dragged the box across the house. The sound of the box sliding over the wooden floor was enough to make her wince. So much for stealth.

Once the two boxes were side by side, she headed for the kitchen, pausing in the dark to pull a shotgun from the umbrella stand in the hallway. The oak door at the front of the house swung open and closed lazily in the wind. She tried to ignore the lightning that seemed to get closer and closer; whatever was coming was certainly making an entrance. The iron key she pulled from the bottom of the salt box stung her hand but she didn't let loose; iron keys were the best for hex boxes and salt was the best place to hide things but she hated to touch them.

She rounded back to the living room, keeping an eye on the shadows. Just because she hadn't heard anything come in didn't mean it hadn't already. The hex box sprung open once she unlocked it, revealing the brightly painted symbols that lined the inside of the box. She pried the lid off the wooden crate and upended the bones into the hex box. She hesitated before tossing the key back into the salt filled box and dropping the small box into the larger hex box. She fought to close the iron lock, sighing in momentary relief when it did. If she lived past whatever was coming, she'd figure out how to open the cursed box without its key. Better to seal everything inside than leave anything lying around.

As the front door swung open loudly and lightning exploded overhead, she tightened her grip on the shotgun. Something was coming.

She watched in horror as black demonic clouds suddenly whirled into the room, circling the devil's trap until the room was so thick with it that she couldn't see the lightning cracking outside of the windows. Wind whipped at her, trying to pull her to the edge of the devil's trap. The hex box slid across the rough floor before Alice jumped onto it and pulled it back to the center. The whole house shook and shuddered at the demonic invasion.

Alice felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and pulled it out. "I'm having a hell of a morning, Singer," she yelled into the phone as the wind whipped the words from her mouth. "Someone wants this box pretty bad!"

As the words left her mouth, the front door slammed shut, jarring the entire house and blowing out the remaining windows in a shower of glass. A sudden eerie silence filled the house, broken only by the heavy footsteps that were slowly coming down the hallway toward her. She tossed her phone down and gripped the shotgun tightly, cocking it loudly.

The dark demonic cloud parted, allowing a figure to step through, right to the edge of the devil's trap. "So…I'm going to need my scroll back."

"Crowley," Alice said, her voice unable to hide her surprise.

He smiled arrogantly and pointed. "Or better yet…what have you got the box?"

Alice frowned. "Grandma's linens and none of your business."

"Cheeky," Crowley mused as he slowly walked around the devil's trap. "I like it. I was hoping one of my lower level demons would find you eventually but you set off quite the dynamite charge by trying to take whatever's in that box onto consecrated ground. Is it my scroll?"

"Go to Hell."

"And leave you here with something exciting in that hex box? No…I want to know. In fact, we could make a deal, you and I."

"No."

"You tell me what's in the box and I'll tell you where Sam Winchester is going to be."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because he's giving me a headache," Crowley explained. "I'm a business man and when my crossroad demons can't even show up for work without getting slaughtered… it's bad for morale."

"Yeah, I bet it's really keeping you up at night," Alice sneered. "Get out."

"How about a thank you," Crowley said, stopping in front of her. "I'm handing you Sam Winchester on a silver platter."

"Why don't you just take him out yourself?"

"Oh I will, if need be," Crowley said as he continued to slowly walk around the circle. "But if you'd like a chance to save him from the tortures I have planned for him….or maybe you don't care what happens to the last Winchester."

"Or is it that you can't take him out yourself," Alice quipped. "After all, he's slaughtering your kind without any trouble. Maybe this deal is for your benefit."

"Or maybe you'd like me to just drop him off to Bobby, piece by bloody piece," Crowley offered with a shrug.

Alice said nothing. She needed to talk to Bobby. Crowley was bound to find out Dean was dead and they really could use Sam's location.

"What's in the box?"

"None of your business," Alice all but growled. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid; having to make a decision to by herself that affected everyone.

Crowley didn't look up from the box as he spoke. "You've picked an unusual place to live; an Amish community that is undoubtedly unprepared for the hell I could rain down upon them. You tell me what's in the box… or I'll rip apart this entire community to pieces."

She'd deal with Bobby later; there was no way she'd toss her neighbors into the mouth of Hell for anyone. "Bones," Alice said with a frown. "It's bones."

Crowley frowned. "What kind of bones?"

"Human," Alice snapped. "Get your friends out of here and we'll talk."

"Tell me whose they are first," Crowley said curiously. "A saint? Maybe a pope? Or better yet, some—"

"Dean Winchester."

With a loud snap of Crowley's fingers, the demonic cloud burst into flame and ashes rained down. The smell of sulphur and brimstone filled the room. "Can't have them telling stories back down below…Tell me more."

"It's like I said, it's the bones of Dean Winchester."

"He's dead then," Crowley mused as he slowly walked the circle, kicking up ashes as he went.

"Well, I certainly hope he's dead cause when he finds out I've got his bones in a hex box he's going to be pissed," Alice snapped sarcastically.

"I wasn't made aware of his death. I take it by the box of bones that you weren't looking for a deal," Crowley mused aloud, his voice guarded. If Dean Winchester was dead, he was getting a Fay for certain. The Fay took years to find, mark, and cull the Teinds; there was no way they'd have time to find a suitable replacement before the delivery date.

"Positive," Alice replied. "Now where is Sam Winchester?"

"Where is my scroll?"

"What scroll?"

"The scroll, my contract with the Fay. The one you 'borrowed' before running off," Crowley yelled, irritation seething from him. "I'd like to take a look through it now that things have changed. Where is it?"

"Bobby Singer has it," Alice replied with a shrug. "Now, where is Sam Winchester?"

Crowley smiled, the thought of a Fay to twist and turn into his own first demon weighing on his mind. "He'll be paying a visit to a crossroads near Murphy, North Carolina. Shouldn't be hard to find."

Alice blinked and Crowley was gone. She let out a shaky sigh of relief and sat down on top of the hex box. She picked up her discarded phone and checked the screen. "Bobby, how much of that did you get?"

"Enough to say get your ass out of there and back on the road."

"What about Dean? What can Crowley do with what I told him?"

"Forget about it," Bobby muttered, trying to keep his annoyance in check. "Least we know now where Sam is. I know a hunter over in North Carolina. You want me to call her?"

Alice glanced out the window; the sun was finally coming up. "He's all hopped up on demon blood, any idea how to catch him?"

"I don't care if you have to shoot him or run him over with the car," Bobby snapped into the phone. "You get his ass back here."

"And Dean's bones?"

"Bring them back with you. I want to find out why we can't carry them onto consecrated ground."

"Anything else you want me to bring," Alice asked as she stepped out of the devil's trap. Glass crunched under her feet.

"Your buddy still making moonshine?"

Murphy, North Carolina

"You're a disappointment, you know that, right?"

Sam woke to the sound of Dean's voice in his ear. He looked up and stared into Dean's eyes, looking down at him from over the back of the seat. "I'm doing this for you, Dean."

"Bullshit, you're doing this for you."

Sam pulled the flask from his pocket and slowly twisted the cap off. He ignored Dean's complaints as he drained the flask; Dean's words faded as the buzzing in his ears grew. Stuffing the empty flask back in his pocket, he glanced back over the seat. He was alone in the car again.

Sam stepped from the Impala and strode to the center of the intersection. It was midmorning and yet the backroad was silent and still, not even a bird call breaking the serene morning. He dug into the hard packed soil and dropped the metal box into the hole. He was sure this was the right demon. Something about this morning seemed right.

He had gotten an hour of sleep somewhere between Georgia and North Carolina, before Dean had woken him up. It was getting to be a habit, Dean showing up when the itch began. The more he drank, the more Dean came and spoke to him; yet the more he needed, the angrier Dean got.

Sam turned and spotted the young woman sauntering toward him, her hips swishing from side to side in her skin tight gown. She came to a stop a few feet away, a frown on her lips. "I can't help you."

With a flick of his wrist, she was pulled to him, his hand tight on her throat as the knife teased a hole in her black silk gown. "Can't? Or won't?"

She looked up at him, her gaze as black as her dress. "Both, maybe. There's a rumor you've gone off the deep end."

"Is that so?"

"Stories have been circling the pit," she mused aloud. "Some of us think you just want to die but are too scared to pull the trigger. Why else would you start this kind of game?"

"I'm not scared," Sam snapped as his grip tightened on her neck. She smiled.

"Go ahead. This pretty little girl means nothing to me. I can get a new one."

"You can't if I kill you. I'll pull you out of her and finish this," Sam said through gritted teeth. Her eyes went wide as she choked on the thick billowing smoke that swirled in her throat. Halfway through, Sam loosened his pull on the demon. It retreated back into its host and tried to pull itself from his grip.

Sam wiped the blood from his nose and shook her. "Now that you know what I can do to you, let's talk about what I want."

The black eyed woman pulled back from him and rubbed her throat. "I still can't help you. No one can cut you a deal."

"WHY?!"

She took a slow step back. "Because Crowley said so. No deals. No freebies. Nothing for either you or Dean."

"Why?"

"I don't ask questions," the woman said. "All I heard was it had something to do with a business deal Crowley's got going on."

"I WANT DEAN'S SOUL!"

The demon winced but took a step back toward Sam. "I know what you've been asking for," she said with a coy smile. "Everyone's talking about it. He's not down there. So stop asking."

She was gone before Sam could stop her.

Ducktown, Tennessee

Sam pulled into the parking lot of the rundown motel and killed the engine. He was running on fumes and needed a place to crash for a few hours.

"You were stronger before you became a junkie," Dean whispered in his ear as Sam climbed out of the car.

"Shut up Dean," Sam snapped angrily as he pulled the flask from his pocket. He was getting dangerously low but he needed time to figure out what the demon meant. He couldn't focus past the burning pain that seemed to linger in his bones. He needed to sleep off his encounter with the crossroads demon. He'd have to find another one soon.

He headed for the motel office, ignoring Dean sauntering behind him. He wasn't sure when Dean had showed up; somewhere after the fourth demon he had killed. Sam didn't bother to look up at the woman minding the counter; he just tossed down cash and took the key she slid across the counter.

His duffel hit the carpet and expelled a small cloud of dust. The room reeked of mildew and decay but the hot shower would more than make up for it. He was standing in the shower when he heard Dean again.

"If you weren't so friggin weak, I wouldn't be burning again," Dean said as the room filled with the stench of brimstone and singed flesh. Sam ripped the shower curtain open and came face to face with Dean, his skin singed and charred. He cocked his head and smiled, his face blistered and hair burned. "This is your fault Sam."

Sam rushed out of the room, slipping on the wet floor. He ignored Dean following him, digging through his jacket pockets until he found the flask. He drained it before tossing it on the counter and stepping back into the water. He turned the faucet to cold and ignored the shivers that followed, waiting for Dean to stop talking on the other side of the curtain. A long time ago, when he felt this kind of desperation, he would have prayed. Now he didn't bother. God was gone, Castiel was busy waging a war upstairs, and it seemed like everyone had an agenda that didn't include helping Sam.

He had lost track of time when the sound of the motel door being slowly opened caught his attention. He knew he had locked it.

"Sam," a familiar voice called out. Alice.

He scrambled out of the tub and slammed the bathroom door shut, yanking on his clothes as he cursed himself for leaving his gun on the table outside the bathroom.

"Come on out Sam! I want to talk to you."

"You tracked me down, broke into my room, and probably have a gun—I don't think you want to talk, Alice," he yelled through the door.

"Well, to be honest, I was looking for you. I drove right past this fleabag motel and had to turn around. You parked right out front. The Impala is hard to miss, you jackass. You're not even trying!"

"I'm working, Alice. Just go home!"

"I can't. Bobby called me, there's a string of bodies leading back to you. But it's more than that I think," she said as she eyeballed his gun and duffel bag. She wasn't sure if he was armed in the bathroom, but if he was back on demon blood he didn't need a weapon. He was one.

Sam turned the shower back on and climbed into it, hoping the sound of the water would muffle his movement. He ignored his soaking wet clothes as he tried to pry the window open. It was high in the wall but he figured he could manage. He ignored Alice's pleas to open the door and was pulling himself through the window when he heard the door crash open and felt her grab his bare feet. "Get back in here Sam!"

He kicked her away before dropping through the window, falling to the hard ground below. There were trees and a ravine behind the motel. Sam headed for the parking lot, hustling as fast as he could through the briars. He paused at the edge of the building, looking around for Alice. He could see an old Apache pickup truck parked closely behind the Impala, the driver's side door hanging wide open. He knew Alice's bad habit of leaving keys in the ignition; his dad had been the same way when he was hunting. The open door of his motel room was barely visible around the corner.

Sam pulled back around the corner as Alice came out of the room, cell phone to her ear as she sauntered to the motel office, the Impala's keys swinging in her hand. Once she disappeared behind the tinted office door, Sam took off, running as fast as he could toward the open truck door.

The gravel cut into his bare feet as he reached the truck; he had one hand on the door and the other on the steering wheel before he saw the well laid trap. A young woman rose off the seat and leveled her .45 at his face.

Sam took a step back and froze. Alice was behind him with her shotgun to his back. "Hello Sam. I'd like you to meet Becca."

The woman threatening to kill him point blank didn't look familiar but Sam knew she was a hunter. No one else would have been ready to ambush him like that. Alice moved into his peripheral vision and prodded his back. "Hands up, Sam. Any weapons you want to hand over?"

"You ambushed me in the shower, Alice. I'm lucky to have pants much less a gun," Sam snapped angrily as he slowly raised his hands over his head.

"Nothing like getting the upper hand while catching someone with their pants down," Alice snapped right back at him.

"I'm not doing anything Alice," Sam said as he tried to twist around to see her. "I've just been hunting—"

"Stop moving," Becca said sternly, staring him down.

"Alice, can't we talk about this? Look, I found something this morning and I think we—"

"This ain't no 'we' Sam. I'm here to take you back to Bobby's. You've gone off the deep end with this demon blood thing," Alice snapped as she patted him down. "Until you dry out, I can't trust you!"

Sam sighed in irritation and tried to turn again. "Alice, listen to me!"

"Stop moving around," Becca said again, this time louder. "Alice, what's the plan for him?"

"Let's get him down and then I need to call Bobby," Alice said as she pulled a handful of thick zip ties from her pocket. "Sam, bring your hands down one at a time. You so much as flinch and I'll be digging your grave before sunset. Becca here is a good friend of Bobby's and I hear she's a better shot than me."

Sam glared at Becca while he complied with Alice's demands. His anger began to boil when he felt the zip ties cut into his wrists. Why wouldn't she listen to him? He let himself he led to the back of the truck and sat down angrily on the tailgate while Alice pulled her cellphone from her pocket.

Sam watched Alice, hate burning through him. He wasn't doing anything wrong. She and Bobby, and now this Becca person, were getting in his way right when he was making progress toward getting Dean back. Sam ignored the sweat that broke out across his skin as he stared across the gravel drive toward Alice. She was watching him intently but he couldn't hear what she was saying to Bobby, the ringing in his ears was too loud.

Alice was telling Bobby her route back to North Dakota when she felt it. A wave of dizziness caught her off guard and pain exploded across her chest. She wiped a hand past her nose and frowned at the blood that coated her hand as it came away, she could taste it in her mouth as well. She didn't bother to hush Bobby as she walked up to Sam and grabbed his hair, whipping his head back until his neck felt like it was going to break. Holding the phone away, she leaned close and muttered in his ear, "Sam, you ever try out those demonic powers of yours on me again, I'll crucify you."

She let Sam's hair go and motioned to Becca, suddenly standing next to Sam with a burlap sack in her hand. Without a word she pulled it over his head, ignoring his angry protests as she blinded him.

He listened to Alice give Bobby a timetable for her and Sam; she was driving back right away. Alice stepped in front of him and spoke. "Sam, we'll be leaving for Bobby's in a few minutes. It's a long drive. Now, I can't let you have any demon blood, I can't risk you getting all dark side on me."

At her words, Sam felt a pit in his stomach. She was going to dry him out.

"I can get him back Alice. I was nearly there! Don't waste everything I've done to do this," he argued loudly, trying one last time to convince her.

"Now, you've got a choice," Alice continued, ignoring him. "You can go completely cold turkey or I can try to drug you to the gills so it doesn't hurt so much when you start coming off it."

"You can't do that," Sam sputtered, suddenly terrified of what lay ahead. "Bobby and Dean tried that last time. You can't just take it away!"

Alice heard the anger in Sam's voice slowly give way to fear. She had seen addicts before, hell, she had her own problems back in the day but she knew that the fear was only the beginning of his problems.

"I've talked to Bobby about it…goodness knows, he's probably the only person alive who's detoxed someone off demon blood," Alice said as she pulled him to his feet. She led him to the Impala and pushed him onto the backseat.

Sam couldn't see anything through the burlap but he felt the needle in his arm. "I hate to be the one who has to do this Sam," she said softly. "But it's time for some tough love."

So, here goes. I'm supposed to be writing a 25k word novel this month for camp nanowrimo. My plans hit the fan so I'm dedicating my word count to finishing this fanfiction. My out of towners have gone home. I will be writing at night again, barring any unforeseen problems. You want to help me out? Goad me. Email me. Review me. Friggin push me to work on this every day.

Also, yes, I did use/combine several reviewers names for the extra characters in this chapter. Want in as an extra? Drop me a line. Make it good.

Thanks for reading!