Much to Sam's delight, a gentle knock on the door brought the conversation to an end.

"You boys ready to go?"

Sam turned to start for the door.

"I'm not going to stop digging Sam." Dean's words were tough but his eyes showed a simple need for understanding.

"Yeah…I know."

"What'll ya have?" asked the middle age waitress at Don's Diner.

"I'll take the special. And a coffee, black." John said, closing his menu.

"Same." Dean said with a wink.

The waitress looked to Sam, he had been starring out of the window and was caught off guard by the sudden need to order.

"Same," he said with great speed. The waitress nodded and hustled away.

"You sure you want that Sammy?" Dean asked, giving his brother a perplexed look. "You do know what you just ordered right?"

"Uh," Sam looked down into his lap, "No, but I'm sure it will be great."

Moments later three plates of bacon wrapped hashbrowns and fried eggs arrived.

John and Dean watched as Sam grabbed his fork with ferocity and began shoveling food down.

"Might wanna slow down son," John suggested quietly.

Sam looked up and realized that his father and brother hadn't taken a bite yet. He looked down at his half devoured plate and set his fork down.

"Sorry." He hung his head low. He was acting like such a freak and he hated himself for it.

"No need to apologize son, you must be starving." John had no idea just how true that statement was. "Just didn't want you chokin' on us." He offered his son a small smile and took a bite.

Thirty minutes and lot of awkward silences later the three men stood to leave. Sam had downed three specials, multiple cups of coffee and was taking a breakfast muffin for the road. Dean had done his best to keep up with the kid, not wanting him to feel bad for eating so much, but man that kid could pack it away these days.

"Alright, now for everyone's favorite part of the day," John said, the sarcasm dripping from every word.

***'

"How do they fit?" Dean called over the changing room door.

Sam looked at his reflection in the dressing mirror. The jeans Sam had on were barely hanging around his bony hips.

"Maybe a few sizes smaller." Sam called out, "but the length is good."

Dean had assumed that might be the case and he was already one step ahead of his brother. He tossed another pair of jeans over the door.

"Try these."

After a bit of work the right size was located and a few pairs of jeans were piled in Deans arms.

"Alright," John looked at the little clump of denim, "now for the rest of the necessities."

Boxers, socks, shoes, sweats, shirts, jeans, and a jacket were purchased.

"Thanks dad." Sam said with a little smile and a tinge of guilt in his voice. This was the first time Sam could remember buying clothes new from a store, and a nice store at that. "You didn't have to get all that."

"Yes I did. You needed some new things, it's no problem at all Sam," John smiled back at his son.

"So are we leaving town now?" Sam asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

"We've paid for the next few nights. No need to rush away. Or is there?" John asked raising an eyebrow.

"No…" Sam's eyes wandered, "no, I was just curious."

Later that night, back at the motel, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, knowing his family was staring at him. Waiting to hear more.

"Sam, I know it's hard to talk about, but we do need to hear more about where you've been and what happened," John's eyes held their strong watch on Sam, even though he knew his son wasn't going to look up.

Dean waited in the silence, fighting back the urge to jump into the conversation with all of his questions.

"Were you the only one being held?" John began.

Sam mumbled out a weak, "No."

"Are the others still there?"

"No."

"Where did they run off to?"

Sam exhaled and bit down on his bottom lip, "They…they, didn't."

"How many?" John asked, not really sure if he wanted this answer to this one.

After a few moments Sam finally looked up and into his father's eyes, "I lost count, sir."

All of a sudden Sam's face scrunched in pain. He took a few labored breaths and stood.

"Sammy you ok?" Dean rose and was at his brother's side in an instant.

"I just need a second," Sam took a few steps over to the bathroom, "headache."

Sam closed the door and pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket. With hands shaking he poured out one pill and swallowed it dry. Then splashed a bit of water on his face. A few minutes later he emerged from the bathroom.

"Sorry."

"Sam," John sighed, "How many times do I need to tell you to stop apologizing?"

Dean's eyes were still full of worry, "You ok?"

"Yeah fine, sorry. I mean..yeah."

Sam sat back down and started talking, because he knew that's what they wanted and all he wanted was for them to be happy and stop worrying so much.

"It was all my fault-"

"No, Sammy-"

"Dean, just wait. I need to say this all at once or not at all." Sam looked to his brother and didn't begin again until Dean nodded in agreement.

"It was all my fault, I was angry, and stupid. After that fight we had, I left but I didn't know where to go. So I started walking. After a while a van pulled up and I was too blind to see the danger of the situation. I climbed in and then it went dark. When I woke I didn't know where I was. All I could hear was screaming." Sam paused in his story, it was clear that reliving these memories wasn't a pleasant experience in the least.

"There were cages everywhere." Sam stopped again.

"It's ok Sammy," Dean's voice was low and warm, "you're safe now."

"And you're sure it was just one ordinary man running this place?" John asked, curious about the logistics of it all.

"He was anything but ordinary, but yeah. Just the one creep. Human."

"That's messed up." Dean ran a hand down his face.

"Yeah, well, the rest isn't really worth talking about. The others would come and…go, but there were a few like me who had been around for a while. He said it was because we were… special," Sam cringed.

Dean felt his temperature rising and his blood rushing.

"Eventually, I was the only one left, and then you know the rest."

John sat still soaking in all that his son had told him. He was sure there were many many details that Sam was leaving out. After all, it had been four years. Four years in a cage, apparently.

"And you're sure he's dead?" Dean asked, hoping in some sick way that this barbarian was still alive just so that he could kill him again. Nice and slow.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. He's dead, but…"

"What?" John prodded.

"But I still wouldn't mind if we got out of here. We're still pretty close to, uh, my old place."

"Unnerving?" John asked, already knowing the answer.

The rest of the night was quiet. The three Winchesters were still a bit unsure of how to be normal around each other with the giant elephant in the room.

Dean watched as his little brother took the tags off of his new sweats and wandered into the bathroom for a shower. It was like watching a rerun. He was still in awe of the fact that Sammy was back.

John stepped outside to refill the ice bucket and listen to a few voicemails.

Sam stood in the shower, letting the scalding hot water run down his body. It was a pretty good story he had come up with, at least he thought so. Some of it had been true. There were many others, they were kept in cages, and many had died. But those were about the only true pieces. As much as he hated lying to his father and brother he hating the idea of telling the truth even more.

He didn't want to go stomping through the woods flanked by his family in search of his captors, who definitely weren't human. He didn't want to face those he had left behind, they were probably already dead already anyways. And he didn't want to return to the living hell he had miraculously managed to escape from.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on the bathroom door.

"SAMMY!" Dean's voice rang out clear, "Sammy, get out here now!"

Sam shut off the water and nearly killed himself rushing out of the shower and into his clothes. As soon as he was covered he threw the door open.

Dean was standing with an ice bucket in his hands. He handed the bucket to his brother. Inside was a bloody finger on ice and a note that read: Come collect the rest of your father. We miss you Sammy.