AN: Thank you for all the reviews. Here's the next chapter. NerdAngel: Happy Birthday!

*****S*P*N*****

"Sam!"

Dean shouted again, knowing full well his brother wouldn't answer him. Immediately, he started pacing up and down like an angry caged tiger. He had to find Sam. Before Amara could harm him. But how to find out where Sam was?

"Cas?"

Dean stopped pacing and tilted his head skywards, as if to locate the missing angel.

"Cas, I need you, man," Dean continued, urgency oozing from his words. "Amara has Sam and she's gonna pick him apart. Cas!"

"Dean, the bunker is warded,..." Henry tried to explain, but stopped himself the same moment Dean had turned to glare at him. Right, the angel had been inside before. They must have lifted or altered the warding. Henry lifted his hands in surrender and Dean resumed his pacing.

"Cas, if you don't get your feathery ass down here this minute, I swear I'll..." A hand on Dean's arm caused him to stop his threat and he looked at the hand followed it up until his eyes locked with his mother's.

"Maybe he can't hear you, Dean. Maybe he's out there already, looking for Sam. Maybe he's hurt, or worse."

"I have to find Sam. We have to find him. She's gonna hurt him bad, and then kill him. And then she's going to destroy us all. That's not an option. I can't let that happen."

"So, how do we find Sam?" John chimed in, looking straight at Dean.

"Cas could locate him. I mean, he's got the warding on the ribs just like me, but Sam can contact him, tip him off..." Dean closed his eyes, thinking.

"How about a locater spell?" Henry suggested.

"Look, I'm not going to drag Rowena into this," Dean shook his head. "And I'm..."

"Who's Rowena?" Samuel asked.

"A witch, but...," Dean started but Henry, uncharacteristically, cut him off.

"We don't need a witch for this spell. All we need is an item that belongs to Sam and a drop of blood from a blood relative. From the mother works best." Henry glanced at Mary, who nodded.

"Let's do it," she replied, exposing her arm again. Henry smiled and whisked about the upended room to produce all the necessary ingredients. Soon he had everything set up and added the drops of Mary's blood.

The bowl made from ulexite obliterated its white color to somewhat transparent. Five heads came together to hover over it, eyes squinting from each, to make out the shape materializing in the magic stone. Slowly, a building was distinguishable and after a moment, Dean pushed himself off the table.

"I know where he is," he simply said and took two steps at once to head up to where the Impala was parked.

***SPN***

Amara was standing in the wardroom of the barracks just outside the other side of Lebanon, looking down at her unconscious hostage. Sam would come too soon enough for her to thoroughly enjoy taking him apart until he was merely a bloody mess when his brother would find them. She was certain the older Winchester brother would be crafty enough to determine their location.

To ensure that it wouldn't be too easy for Dean to get to them, Amara has created a dense, white fog circumfering the compound. That would slow the man down as soon as he figured out where his brother was being held. As for the usual inhabitants of the baracks, they were under her control. In addition to sucking out their souls she had added a spell that gave them almost zombie-like invincibility. Sadly, most of the soldiers had been on leave but the thirteen she had transformed would do just fine.

Thirteen. Amara kind of liked the number. Humans considered it as unlucky so it had to be lucky for her. She watched as her army went on patrol, armed to the teeth. Time to test her torture skills on Sam Winchester.

She smiled.

***spn***

"Dean, wait!"

John Winchester's voice boomed and reverberated in the hall like garage as Dean was about to pull open the Impala's door. Dean halted with a sigh and turned towards the approaching hunters.

"If you drive off alone, how are we going to find you?"

"Yeah, well, no way I'm gonna load up Baby with all of you. When I find Sam, I'll need space for him. Dude's a Sasquatch. Can't fit him in if there's three in the back. Go find yourself a ride here. Plenty to choose from. Keys are under the visor. Henry, hop in."

Not waiting for a reply, Dean took place behind the wheel. Henry's eyes grew wide briefly but he swiftly followed Dean's request and claimed shotgun.

"Where are we going?" John called as Dean started up his black car, and headed towards a pale green 56' Thunderbird.

"Military compound other side of town," Dean called as the back door of Baby slammed shut, revealing Mary Winchester in the back seat. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"That car your dad is heading to is a two-seater," she shrugged and smiled. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and hit the gas. John barely waited for Samuel to get both his feet in the T-bird before starting up and trying to keep up with his oldest and follow him through the moonlit night.

That feat however was easier said than done. Night it might be but traffic in Lebanon was lively. It didn't take long for John to have lost sight of the iconic Impala tail lights.

"Damn!" John banged his hand on the steering wheel. It was Sam's life on the line and Dean drove like a maniac. "Who taught you to drive?"

"You telling me that wasn't you, John?" Samuel almost chuckled, earning himself a glare from the other man. "How did you know this tin can would drive? Those cars look like they haven't been moved in centuries."

John stared hard at the other hunter. It was obvious the man had no appreciation for a classic car. "You don't know Dean very well, do you? Any car in his supervision is always in pristine condition. So careful what you say." Samuel frowned briefly and then nodded.

"I gotta say I never really saw much in you. A soldier, maybe, but a hunter, a fighter? Not so much. Right now, I'm rapidly changing my opinion."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" John raised an eyebrow but kept his gaze firmly on the street.

"Not at all," Samuel denied. "Keep right, by the way."

"Yeah, saw the sign for barracks. I'm not blind, old man," John muttered when he worked the classic car around the bend with a bit more speed than Samuel had gambled for. He had to grab hold of the door handle to prevent himself knocking into John.

"Careful who you call old, kiddo," Samuel growled. "You're not exactly sweet sixteen anymore either." He glanced outside. "You sure you'll find where Dean's heading?"

"I'm a marine. I'll always find a compound. Now hold on to your flannel, old man."

***spn***

Amara was scrutinizing Sam. The young hunter was glaring at her defiantly, seemingly oblivious to the chains that bound him and the wounds that decorated his bare torso. If she'd actually care for humans, she'd find his endurance and composure extremely fascinating.

"So, Sam," she almost chirped. "Think your brother will be impressed enough to say that one little word?"

Sam spat out a glob of blood and saliva before smiling crookedly at his tormentor.

"Never!"

The smile on Amara's face disappeared instantly. "That's too bad. Because then, I'll have to do this." Stretching out her arm, she balled her hand to a fist and slowly turned it around clockwise. Sam couldn't help but yell as he felt his insides being twisted. He tried so hard not to shout but he had no chance. His scream turned into a labored cough as more blood came running from his lips, dripping onto his cut up torso before some of it collected in a puddle on the ground.

An unreasonable part of his pain flooded brain rationalized that theoretically the blood from his mouth could just re-enter his body via the cuts on his chest and help ensure he wouldn't bleed to death before Dean could save him. Sam hung his head as dark spots started dancing in front of his eyes in a parade that eerily reminded him of Dumbo's intoxicated dream.

Despite himself, a weak chuckle escaped Sam's lips. Leave it to him to think of Disney movie scenes that scared the crap out of him when he was a kid, when he was bleeding out. It just testified how thoroughly screwed up he really was.

Amara was talking to him once more, but Sam couldn't make out the words. It sounded like it came from a far away warped music tape. Blood was beating in his temples like a jack hammer and Sam felt himself go into shock. His limbs became heavy and cold.

"Dean," he mumbled weakly. "Dea..."

***spn***

"Son of a BITCH," Dean shouted when a white wall of thick fog materialized in front of the Impala. Slowing down he carefully entered the misty air, hoping it would not be too bad. Henry and Mary exchanged a telling glance at Dean's outburst.

It was no use. The fog was getting denser still, if that was even possible. Muttering another colorful expletive, Dean cut the engine and stormed out of his beloved car. He stalked to the trunk and popped it oped. Despite the poor visibility he knew his way around in the hidden arsenal and grabbed two handguns with a few rounds of ammunition.

Henry and Mary felt more than found their way to Dean's side and he unceremoniously shoved the weapons in their hands. Then he pocketed the Colt and grabbed his own pearl handled handgun. He scoffed briefly. There was just something about him and colts. He just hoped unlike the other times, this time he would be able to pull the trigger when facing Amara.

"Keep up," Dean said and slammed the trunk shut. Then he disappeared in the thick, white, soupy fog and left Mary and Henry to scramble after him. Dean had an exquisite sense of direction and he knew the barracks were not far off. When the fog got even denser, that he almost couldn't see his own hand in front of his eyes, he realized that in his haste he'd lost his companions.

Shrugging, he ploughed on. He couldn't afford to waste time by waiting. Sam needed him. He could feel it. His brother depended on him. Then, all of a sudden, the fog lifted and Dean found himself standing right in front of the building he knew Sam was in. Not letting another second idle on, Dean flattened against the wall and carefully pushed the door open. Glancing in, he saw a fully armed soldier, weapon at the ready, marching away from him.

When the man turned a corner, Dean stealthily snuck in, pulling the door closed again to prevent raising suspicion. He was now in a dimly lit floor that stretched up ahead but also to either side of him. The soldier had been in the passage straight on. Dean knew he wouldn't be the only guard and at the moment he didn't know whether Amara had put her whammy on them or not.

Footsteps were nearing him and Dean took cover, crouching down and bringing his own military like training into play. When he saw the soldier head on, he knew right away, Amara had built an army. The man's eyes were staring ahead, black vein-like growths sprouting from the man's neck. He was infected. With whatever darkness disease that Amara used to turn humans into zombies. Just like the croatoans all those years ago.

The footsteps grew louder. Cursing wordlessly, Dean gripped the handle of his colt tighter. Crouching down even more he snuck backwards until he reached another door. He stopped short and leaned against it. Holding the 1911 colt in front of his face, Dean closed his eyes to listened hard for any more approaching footsteps. Opening his eyes again, he glanced up and down the hallway, trying to decide what to do next.

TBC...

AN2: Please, let me live so I can fix Sam :) Reviews make it happen a lot faster :D