A/n: Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story. A special thank you to mckydstarlight, hectatess, MarbleWolf, freetobescary, Guest, jojospn, and LilyBolt for your recent reviews.

Chapter 25

The instant Sam's eyes cracked open, he was overcome with the urge to vomit. His head was pounding and his vision was distorted, making him feel as though he was wearing someone's prescription glasses. Sam groaned as he pushed himself slowly into sitting position, which was harder and more painful then it should have been, and he tried to take in his surroundings.

Sam couldn't make out where he was, but he could tell it wasn't anywhere he recognized. He could smell mildew as though wherever he was had been long forgotten or cared about, and the wood underneath him felt damp like it had been sitting in water for substantial amount of time. There were lights spread out on the floor in the room he was in, which gave off a star effect to his still fuzzy vision.

He moved his hand to his head and rubbed at it. It felt wet and sticky with something, but what he didn't know. Bringing his hand back, it appeared to red. Blood? For the life of him, Sam couldn't remember what had happened.

"Wh't the-" he mumbled.

"Oh, there you are. I was starting to think you weren't going to wake." There was something familiar about the voice, but the twenty two year old couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"'s there?" He asked startled.

"That knock to the head musta scrambled your eggs more than I thought," it answered simply. Sam tried to focus on where he's heard it before as well as picture the face that belonged to it, but he couldn't. He pushed his brain to make the connection until, finally, it clicked. He remembered. Sam tried to bring the blurs to a solid form in his mind so that he could see better.

"Meg?"

"Hey."

"Wh-wh't're you...wh't's goin' on ?" The young man slurred perplexed.

"Hold that thought, I've gotta make a call."

The form of Meg moved off towards the opposite side of the room and got down to the closed his eyes and reopened them again, still trying to clear up his vision. He wasn't sure he was just imagining it, getting use to it, or if it had actually done anything, but he felt as though he'd made a little progress. As Sam looked over at where Meg was kneeling, he noticed they weren't alone. Laying propped against the wall was a man who appeared to be in his fifties, bound and gagged. As Meg put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a knife, the man's eyes widened in terror and he began to squirm and yell into his gag.

"Wh't're you doing?" Sam asked nervously.

The young woman ignored him, grabbing onto what hair the man had left on his head, she slashed the blade across his throat and directed his gushing neck towards a bowl next to her. Sam's eyes grew wide in shock at the scene before him and once again, he fought back bile that threatened to erupt from the depths of his stomach. Once she had what she needed, she tossed the man off to the side carelessly, and grabbed a handful of blood which she then squeezed out in a swirling motion into the bowl. Sam could hear a disembodied voice, but he couldn't make out what it was saying.

"He's awake," Meg reported excitedly into it. Another sound of something communicating with her could be heard. "Yes, of course." The young woman got to her feet again and made her way back to Sam.

"Wh't the hell're you?"

"The same thing as you of course," she gave him flirtatious innocent smile.

"No. 'M nothing like you. I'd never kill anyone."

"Well, maybe not yet. All in due time Sam." The twenty two year old struggled to get himself to his feet, still disoriented and in pain, which he was still unclear of. Before he could make another move, he found himself gliding backwards until his back met with the wall. Sam stood confused only for a minute before he tried and failed to remove himself from it. It was as though there was some unseen force keeping him there and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull himself away.

"Why're you doing this?" He shouted. Meg slowly drew closer, her eyes not leaving the younger Winchester.

"It's just until you see you're full potential."

"My full wh't?"

"Hey there Big Boy." Sam's attention snapped over to look at his best friend, but instead of the usually relaxed feeling he got when he saw him, there was an air about him that made the younger Winchester feel uneasy. His heart dropped to his stomach.

"Brady?"

The man smiled at him, causing Sam's skin to crawl."How's it hangin?"

"Brady, wh't is this?"

"I am so glad you asked," he chuckled. "This Sam, is what I've been waiting for for a very long time. What I've been working my ass off to accomplish for the entirety of our friendship. You have no idea how hard this has been. What an honor it is."

The younger Winchester shook his head as he fought back tears. "No. We're friends. You were m' best man at m' wedding. This isn't you."

"Oh how wrong you are," the man said with a giggle. "Brady hasn't been Brady for quite some time now. Remember that Thanksgiving break? Yeah, that was me. And let me tell you something, when I first hitched a ride in your friend, I thought to myself 'this is going to be so much work.' I mean you were just so sweet and innocent. A hospitable domestic Kansas giant with a heart of gold who wouldn't hurt a fly. I studied your every move and thought I was going to be sick. I mean, I've never met such a pussy in all my life." Brady paused before licking his lips and continuing, "well that's what I thought anyways. Between the studying for class and the helping others who were in need, and of course you and Jess. Mmmmm, just the cutest couple ever. Am I right? The kind that would be there for one another till death do you part." Brady smirked as Sam gave him an un-amused glare. "Oops, too soon? Anyways I couldn't stand by watching you live this disgusting life anymore. Not when I knew what you were destined for. I mean what kind of bestie would I be if I let you just waste away into a worthless sack of shit? So I waited till opportunity came along and wouldn't you know it? I didn't even have to knock. The door was swung wide open with a welcoming smile and a plate of freshly made chocolate chip cookies."

Sam began to shake at the same time he could feel his body grow hot with rage.

"You sonofabitch," he snarled. "YOU SONOFABITCH, YOU KILLED JESS! S'whole time I've been defending you!"

"Her death was EXACTLY what was needed to give you that little push in the right direction. Well, that is, until I found out you were blowing town with your brother." His features grew angry only for a second before snapping back into his cocky smug self. "But I was able to clean up that mess real quick and easy by pertaining to your sweet side. How could Sam Winchester not open up to a guy who was eternally grateful and had a desire to do for him what was done for him? It was like taking candy from a mentally challenged baby," he laughed, then seeing the look on his friend's face, he smiled. "You want a demonstration on how she died, Sam? A little behind the scenes look at the perks of being one of old Yellow Eye's followers?"

Sam didn't answer as he stared down the man in front of him.

"All I need is a volunteer." His eyes lit up and a wicked grin slid across his face. "Brb." With that Brady was gone, leaving Meg and Sam alone.

"Wh't's he mean by 'destined for?' Destined for wh't?" He snapped.

"Oh you don't know the half of it Baby," she cooed. "You've been given a truly amazing gift Sam, and you're so close to taking it all. The throne, the world."

"Wh't're you talking about?"

"So this is how it all went down the night of November 2nd," Brady started. His sudden reappearance startling an unsuspecting Sam. "Pay attention now Sam, you don't want to miss this again do you?"

He glared at Brady.

"Right, so, you leave with Douche Breath, and here I come to the apartment. I knock, she answers."

The door to the room flew open to reveal a figure on their knees, bound like the man had been earlier, but not gagged. His green eyes blinked a few times as he tried to adjust to them being open, and that's when things began to click into place for Sam.

They had stopped Jessica and were on their way to the hospital for Dean's broken arm. But why were they here instead? Where was here? And why did Dean look worse than he did before? Why was Sam's head pounding and bloody? There was still so much that was unclear to him.

"D'n!" Sam shouted, trying again to pull himself from the wall. He instead felt himself lifted, and thrown to the wall opposite Brady and his brother. Like before, he was unable to get himself free. The elder sibling tried to move his head in the direction of where he had heard his name, but Sam could see Dean was having a hard time with it, moving as though he had woken from a drug induced sleep.

"It's rude to interrupt," Brady said in a mock scolding tone. "Now, she tells me that you've gone out for the night to spend some time with family and that's when I first discovered your worthless shithead of a brother was in town. She invites me in. I accept her invitation and help myself to one of her cookies. And wow, your wife's cookies were delicious," he giggled. Sam's eyes were fixed on his brother who he still seemed out of it. "Anyways, blah blah blah, we talk a bit, then I decided enough chit chat and that's when the fun began." Brady turned from Sam and concentrated on Dean. The elder Winchester rose from the ground and slammed into the same spot Sam had been earlier, causing a cry out from his brother as he was rammed against the wall.

"Leave 'im alone you sonofabitch!" Sam ordered.

"I dragged her, like so into your room, and up to the ceiling." As he spoke, Dean's body slide up the wall until it reached the ceiling where it continued to snake it's way toward Sam. Tears filled his vision as he watched his brother draw closer and closer to him. The elder sibling yelled in pain as his broken arm was scraped along, still tied tightly behind his back. "Then I placed her right where I knew you'd find her and played the waiting game."

"D'n," the younger Winchester's words were barely a whisper as they caught in his throat. Dean peered back, pain visibly shining in his eyes. "Stop!"

"And then just a few minutes before you opened that door, I took my finger and moved it, like so." At the same time Brady drew his finger in the air, an angry red line grew across Dean's stomach identical to the one Sam had seen on Jessica. He screamed in agony causing the younger sibling to try and pull himself free once again. Like before, he was unsuccessful.

"DEAN! NO!" Sam called out. "Brady stop! Please, stop!"

"And well, I think you know the rest," Brady replied ignoring his friend's request. He moved his eyes to peer up at the elder Winchester the way a kid stares up in wonder at fireworks.

"Brady please," Sam begged looking back down at him with large watering eyes. "Please don't do this."

"Make me," he challenged. Brady bowed his head and then raised it again, staring back up at Dean. The elder Winchester was suddenly over come with the feeling of his blood boiling within his body and he let out yet another agonizing scream, which quickly turned into the sound of him choking on his own blood. Dean's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he remained silent and still, blood dripping from his mouth.

"DEAN!"

Brady sighed as he smiled up at his work. "Isn't it bromantic? You know what would really set the mood for this scene? A nice cozy fire." Sam's eyes filled with horror and Brady winked at him. "I hope you brought marshmallows."

The younger brother looked from Brady to Dean before throwing Meg an angry glare. Maybe he was wrong, but she seemed to be why he couldn't move even his pinky finger. He focused all his rage on what he believed to be the reason he was unable to do anything other than watch his brother being played with like a mouse before a cat got bored and went for the kill. To his surprise, she flew backwards into the wall and Sam could feel his body released from the force that had been holding him there. He dropped to the floor, but managed to get himself back to his feet quickly. His dagger filled gaze fell on his friend who only smiled proudly back at him.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Feels good, doesn't it?" He asked Sam. "The power. The ability to make things go the way YOU want them to. You may not be the only one and hell, you may not be the strongest one, but with a bit more work, you will be. It has to be you, Sam. It always has to be you. You're our favorite."

The younger brother's mind was swirling with questions, but all of those were going to have to take a back seat.

"Let. Dean. Go. Now. 'M not gonna say it again," he demanded in a dangerous low voice.

"You're words Big Boy. Catch ya later."

With that Brady and Meg were gone and when Sam turned around to look back up at his brother, he was already tumbling down to the ground, landing with a sickening thud. He laid motionless.

"D'n? Dean?!" He called out to him as he dropped to his knees and gently rolled him onto his side. The elder sibling's eyes remained closed and his body stayed motionless. Crimson decorated Dean's face, and his skin looked piqued. "No no no! Oh God! Stay with me. Stay with me, Dean."

Sam dug around in his pocket, but came up empty. "Shit!" He roared. The younger Winchester began to look around rapidly in hopes that his phone had maybe fallen out while he had been thrown around, but still no signs of it. Torn between staying close to his brother and searching around more, Sam decided he'd be no good to Dean if he couldn't get help. He pushed his way out of the room and stumbled slightly outside.

It was dusk and the already cool November air had grown colder. It felt refreshing to his hot skin, but was ignored by the rest of him. Already the landscape was sinking into sepia tones and the wind had picked up. Luckily for Sam, it wasn't dark enough yet to prevent him from finding what he was looking for relatively quickly.

Not far from the door of the abandoned house they had been brought to, was the Impala along with a good size truck. Or what was left of them. It all made sense now why his head had been damp with blood and why he felt sore. The final piece of the puzzle.

The twenty two year old hurried the best he could towards the muscle car and only stopped when he was right in front of it. It was certainly not going anywhere any time soon. The passenger side was caved in and both the font and back were badly beaten if not completely dented. It was a miracle that they didn't die, Dean especially. Although if his brother had seen this, he more than likely would have died from a heart attack and then killed Sam for it happening with him as the driver.

The thought of Dean pulled Sam out of his thoughts and caused him to move towards the driver's side. As he did, he realized there was no door. At least, not anymore. It looked as though it had been torn from its hinges by something strong. With a brief glance around, he found it laying on the ground a good few feet from the rest of the car. Just as he moved to look into the vehicle, he felt his shoe kick something solid that slid on the dirt underneath the almost pretzel shaped Chevy. Sam dropped to his knees and reached a long arm under, groping blindly. Finally, he felt plastic graze his fingertips and with a big stretch, he was able to push it out towards him. The younger man snatched it up, saw his battery was dangerously low, and shot off back to check on his brother.

C'mon c'mon, please pick up," Sam said out loud as he pressed the phone to his ear. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, the line picked up.

"Agent W-"

"Robert! 's Sam!" Sam cut him off.

"Who? I can barely hear you. Connection's bad."

"SAM!"

""Sam? What's wrong son? You boys ok?" The gruff voice asked picking up on the panicked tone.

"Pr'tty damn far from it! We were in a wreck, the Impala's totalled and Dean's barely breathing!"

"Where are you?" Robert asked.

"I-I don't know. Some abandoned house somewhere."

"Alright hang tight Sam, I'm comin' to find you. Just keep De-"

"Hello? Robert? Keep Dean wh't?! Hello?!" Sam pulled the phone from his ear and peered down at a black screen. "Damnit!" He shouted throwing it off to the side and letting it slide on the floor forgotten. He placed a shaky hand on his sibling's neck feeling a faint pulse. "Hold on, Robert's on his way. Ok? J'st, please, stay with me Dean."

A/n: Alright everyone I'm so sorry to do this to you, but I may not be able to post for a week or two due having family visit from out of town. Also I'm currently struggling with how to go about this next chapter and I'd rather get something out that I think is something you will enjoy and does the story justice, rather than throw something at you that is crap just to get something out there. I'm hoping it'll only be the first Wednesday in October I don't post, but it could be the following as well. It's all going to depend on how I'm feeling. Thank you all so much for your time and interest in this story as well as patience, and again I am sorry for the little hiatus.

Guest: I agree. I'm happy with that choice. I had almost decided to have her be sent away by burning the ring completely, but I thought it would be nicer to have Sam, who's new at hunting, try something new and not harmful to Jessica's ghost. After all, he wouldn't have wanted to see that ands besides, we say him do that in "Roadkill." Plus, yeah, her rage wasn't really her. Sam knew that. True. Maybe he has some issues with Dean, but I don't think he would have wanted to have to choose his wife or his brother like that. I'm sure this chapter answered your questions, or some of them anyways. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you again for your review, interest, support, and loyalty. It means so much to me and I can't thank you enough.