WARNING: You will see some physical abuse in this chapter and some implied sexual abuse. I know it's been a theme since the beginning, but I thought this was a little more intense than usual, so I wanted to give you a heads up.

It was hard to figure out.

He knew it was bad, and he knew it was dark, and he knew it was pressing in on every side. It felt like it was choking him, but he could still breathe somehow. He looked down, and his body was covered in shadows, little wisps of black circling around his fingers. He moved his hands, watching the darkness shift, and then he heard a noise.

Is that… dishes?

Suddenly, the black exploded outward, obliterated by blinding light. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes, but the piercing whiteness was gone before he could tell whether the move was effective.

This is…

Swallowing hard, he stared at his kitchen. He watched himself—a much smaller, younger self—scoop cheerios into his mouth. He knew what was coming, but he didn't cover his eyes. It was like he couldn't.

"Mom, I'm all d—!"

He flinched, watching the bowl crash into the stained linoleum and break into pieces.

"You stupid brat!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Manicured nails grasped arms that bore the marks of previous holds, shaking hard. He tried to turn his head, tried to close his eyes, tried to cover his ears, but none of it worked.

"I'm sorry, Mommy! I—"

Clenching his jaw, he watched her grab the pan she had just cleaned and swing it, screaming as metal and bone collided.

"Go to your room!"

It was dark again.

He wasn't watching anymore. He was laying there, on the mattress, soaked in sweat, heart pounding, staring at the ceiling. He could feel a presence next to him, weight on the bed, and he felt a lump rising in his throat.

Don't touch me. Please, don't touch me.

But the arm wound around his stomach and dragged him closer. Skin met skin, every inch of flesh pressing into each other, burning him. Fingers trailed across a small, shuddering chest.

"My good boy."

Something pierced his wrist, not sharp enough to be a needle, but not dull either, and he knew the sensation didn't belong. It pulled on his arm, like it was physically trying to drag him away from the bed.

"Well, that's just gross."

He didn't startle, which was weird because the voice surprised him. It was still like he couldn't control his body, and his head only rolled to the right because that was what was supposed to happen. At the time, he had just needed to look away from his father.

"You don't know me, but we go way back."

He stared, still feeling that pain in his wrist, and he tried to figure out who the older man in the suit was. He vaguely recognized the voice, but nothing about the dark brown eyes or graying hair sparked a memory.

"If you think this is bad, you should see what's lined up for the next time you sleep."

Swallowing, he tried to process what was happening. Lined up…? So, someone was putting him in these situations? Sleep? He was dreaming, then. Why didn't he realize he was dreaming? But… no, dreams were sometimes like that.

"If you think this is going to stop any time soon, you've got another thing coming, kid. But," laughing, the man's shoulders lifted, "that's what you get for being a Winchester."

That pain in his wrist got worse, something digging into him and pulling harder and harder. He felt the grip around his waist tighten, and he closed his eyes, but the pain in his arm quickly distracted him. It started to twist, pulling again, and then—

"Well, I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We—"

Liam shot up with a gasp, drenched and panting, and he looked down to find Calypso standing there with his left wrist in her mouth. He grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he pushed himself back against the headboard. Screwing his eyes shut, he sniffed a few times, and then he chanced a look at the mattress on his right.

Sam lay there, sound asleep, one hand under his pillow. It was always there, resting on the gun in case something came to get them.

We're in Chicago. Am I awake?

He felt Calypso's head rub under his chin, and he started to whisper, praying Sam and Dean were both as unconscious as they looked. "It's okay. I'm fine."

She mewed softly.

"It's okay." Blue eyes flashed around the dark motel room, able to make out vague images of furniture but not much else. It looked like the man from his dream was absent, and he took a small amount of comfort in that. "It sounded like… like he was causing those memories to come back."

She made a noise of agreement, and he took another look. He could see a dresser with a TV on it, the bed next to the one he was in, a table over by the bathroom door, a window looking out into the night… but there was nothing to indicate the danger had followed him into the waking world.

Everything's fine. Everything's fine.

He slowly inched away from the headboard, sliding down and unwinding his arms to release his familiar. She didn't go far, stepping off his chest and immediately sitting down as a loaf on his left. She looked at him with discerning eyes, shades of yellow faintly glowing, and she didn't seem to like the situation any more than he did.

Just go back to sleep.

He rolled onto his left side, giving her his hand, which she placed a protective paw on. Part of him wanted to wake Sam up—for comfort, for safety, for understanding—but there was another part of him that didn't.

Lucifer is the only one I know of who has entered someone's dreams. Lucifer isn't a demon, he's a fallen angel. If an angel… if Heaven… is doing this… He inhaled slowly. He said it wasn't going to end any time soon. He… they… must be trying to get to me. They don't know where I am, but… Lucifer didn't know where Dad was. But how had they replayed his memories so perfectly? Wouldn't that mean they could get into his head, meaning they should know where he was by looking at his current thoughts? Well, no. If they could be in a dream without knowing where someone was, maybe they could look at memories under the same circumstances.

Calypso meowed softly.

"It's okay." Liam flashed a smile at her, but it didn't last. If Heaven was trying to get to him, that meant they were trying to get to Sam and Dean and Castiel. Liam wasn't going to let them. "Everything's fine."

Calypso stared at him.

Closing his eyes, Liam tried to convince her, relaxing on the mattress and trying to let sleep come back to him. He had no idea what it was going to bring, but he was used to nightmares. He would manage.

Everything's fine.

It's another new one. That must mean they're all working together to get me. Liam watched the figure in the corner—a dark-haired, suited gentleman—and completely ignored the sight of himself sitting on his bed. They're giving me these dreams, but they're making a point to show themselves. They want me to know they're in here. That means they want my family to know they're here.

There was movement in his peripherals, and he remembered exactly what he had been doing that night. He had been holding his arm to his chest, trying to figure out how a burn could still hurt so bad when it had been so long since it was inflicted. He had been crying, staying curled up and trying to be quiet, and he had gingerly touched the red, blistered skin. There was no need to watch it happen again.

I've seen a memory every single time I've fallen asleep. I've seen the first angel three times, and I've seen two other angels. He screwed his eyes shut, but it didn't do any good. It was a dream, so he could still see, and he knew exactly what was coming, so all he could do was try to keep himself calm. They're trying to keep me from sleeping. I need sleep, so they're taking it away, and it's all to make Dad and Uncle Dean and Castiel feel bad.

"Liam?"

Just breathe. Just breathe.

"Yeah, Daddy?"

It's in the past. It doesn't matter.

"I heard you and your mom got into a fight. I know what'll make you feel better."

He kept himself as steady as he could, trying to keep his focus on the angel as lights were dimmed, clothes were discarded, and the nightmare began.

It doesn't matter.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?"

Liam's reaction was a bit delayed, but he looked up from his burger and found Sam and Dean watching him from the other side of the picnic table. He blinked, as if he were confused. "Yeah. Why?"

"You just look really tired." Sam didn't quite frown, but there was still concern in his eyes. "You're hardly eating, and you didn't eat much for breakfast, either."

Shrugging, Liam looked back down at his food. "Just not really hungry." He put the cheeseburger down, knowing there was no point in forcing himself to eat it now that they suspected something was wrong. "I'm fine, Sorzie." He smiled at them, a quiet laugh rising in his throat. "You guys are so good to me."

Dean popped a fry into his mouth. "'Course we are. We love you like crazy, little man."

Liam reached over and snatched one of Dean's fries, hoping to convince. "I love you, too." He put it in his mouth and started chewing, letting his gaze wander over the park they were sitting in, not wanting to make eye contact or prompt any more questions.

It's been three days.

His sleep had been interrupted multiple times, and he tried to make note of the numbers on the clock when he would wake up and fall asleep. He knew they were preventing him from getting some sleep, but they weren't hitting him as hard as they could have, and he could only assume that meant it was going to get worse.

In his most recent dream, he had learned the first angel who appeared to him was named Zachariah, and that realization had brought another one with it. There was a reason he had recognized the voice.

"Shh, Zachariah left. I'll stay."

That was what Castiel had whispered to him during one of his post-nightmare meltdowns during his time in Heaven. Zachariah had tried to make Castiel leave him, and Liam remembered likening that slick, superior voice with some of the abusers in his past.

But that wasn't the point.

No, the point was that it was definitely Heaven. Every person he saw was an angel—a different angel, because Zachariah was the only one who showed up more than once. Heaven was doing something to him, and he wasn't about to tell anyone, because then the angels' plans would work. Even if they couldn't win the fight, they wanted to make Sam and Dean and Castiel feel as worthless and useless and guilty as possible. Well, Liam wasn't having that. His family was working entirely too hard, constantly looking for Death and a good place to conceal their angel army, and Liam wasn't about to make things worse.

"Lee?"

"Sorzie, will you sing 'You Are My Sunshine?'" Liam looked back at his father and uncle, his lack of sleep reminding him of that midnight trip to Walmart so long ago. "Please?"

Dean tried to hide his snicker with another fry, and Sam gave him a halfhearted glare before turning a smile to Liam.

"Of course."

And Sam started singing.

Sam startled slightly, looking up from his laptop in time to see Liam bolt from the bed to the bathroom. That's not good. He gave Dean, who was sitting at the table with an old book, a look of helpless frustration. Thousands of words passed between them in seconds, a silent conversation about how they had hoped Liam's nap would restore some of the sleep he clearly wasn't getting, and then Sam was getting to his feet.

"Liam?" He set his laptop down and walked up to the bathroom door, listening for a moment and quickly identifying the sound of vomiting. "Hey." He let himself in, crouching down by the toilet and rubbing Liam's back as he heaved again.

Liam kept his arms folded over the back of the seat, his forehead resting on them with his face to the bowl. He spat a few times, trying to get the taste out of his mouth, and then he uttered a weary, "Hey," in response.

Sliding his hand upward, Sam stroked the dark red hair a few times before returning to rub circles on Liam's back. "Bad dream?"

Liam sniffed. "Something like that."

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Sam asked, shifting from a crouch to a sit.

"Nothing's going on." Liam slowly unfolded his arms, pushing the handle to flush and moving back away from the toilet. "I'm fine."

Sam wet his lips. "You're not fine, buddy. You're not sleeping, and when you do sleep, you have nightmares. Always. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

Pushing down his frustration, Sam tried to find a kind of middle ground. "Don't lie to me, Liam." He paused. "If you… feel you can't tell me, or you don't want to tell me, or something like that, then just say so. Don't tell me you're fine when you're not."

Liam stared dead ahead, eyes underlined by dark circles. "I can't tell you."

Immediately, Sam felt concern flooding his brain. Liam didn't say he didn't want to, he said he couldn't, and Sam might have known there was nothing Liam couldn't tell him, but Liam clearly didn't. What about his dreams did he feel he couldn't tell Sam? What kind of consequences was he afraid of?

"Okay." Sam spread his arms. "I don't have to know what's wrong to help you."

Liam looked at him for a moment, eyes watering—though whether it was from throwing up or because he wanted to cry, Sam didn't know—and then he crawled over, winding his arms around Sam's waist.

Sam held him close, and it was almost physically painful to realize Liam was getting too big to fit in his lap. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to suggest they make a trip to Indianapolis to see Mrs. Statton, but he stopped short. He didn't want to make it sound like he was wheedling information out of Liam or trying to force him into anything when he was desperate for comfort. Still, Sam wasn't sure Liam had the self-awareness and confidence to ask to see his therapist.

"I'll be fine, Dad." Liam pulled away and slowly got to his feet, holding out a hand to help Sam up. "It's not forever."

Sam wanted to scream, 'What's not forever?' but all he did was smile and take the hand. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom, flashing Dean a worried look before putting his mask back on and turning to Liam. "Do you want to put school on hold until this problem clears up?"

Thinking for a moment, Liam let his eyes wander over the schoolbooks that occupied the table Dean was at. "Um…" It was hard to tell if he was so tired he couldn't think or if he was giving the topic a lot of consideration. "Maybe some of the harder subjects where I have to focus more? But I don't want to stop completely."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Okay, that sounds like a plan." He pursed his lips. "Maybe, if you're worried about stopping, you could still do your harder subjects, too, but not as often. Maybe one lesson every couple of days? Just when you feel you have the energy and mental clarity to do them?"

"Yeah, that works." Liam looked at Sam for a few moments, and then he flashed a weak smile. He turned that smile to Dean and then put it back on Sam. "I think I'm gonna work on my sunset drawing."

Sam tousled his hair. "Okay."

Liam walked over to his backpack, in between the wall and the bed he shared with Sam, and Sam turned to Dean with an anxious twisting in his gut.

This isn't good, his eyes said, hands spreading slightly. What do we do?

Dean gave him a helpless look. I have no freaking clue.

Sam fought the urge to sigh, knowing Liam would hear it and interpret it in any number of negative ways, and instead went back to his laptop. He sat down on the bed and started typing, sneaking an occasional glance at Liam, who gathered his art supplies and joined Dean at the table.

What can't he tell me? Is it… is it some kind of demonic something? No, I don't think we've ever encountered a demon that could impact dreams. That put Sam's mind on another track. Maybe Lucifer figured out how to get into his dreams now that he can't get into mine. But if that were the case, why wouldn't Liam tell me? He knows we have the resources to block Lucifer's access. It has to be something he doesn't think we can fix right now. His fingers were flying from key to key, but he was just typing gibberish in a Google search bar. It wouldn't be, like, drugs or something, would it? Because he could control that. If he started using some kind of substance that impacts sleeping, he could just stop taking the substance and fix the problem. Unless he's addicted to it, but…

Sam wasn't sure how long he spent trying to come up with answers.

"So, you were able to keep Lucifer out of Sorzie's dreams, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

Liam stared up at the ceiling of the motel room he was quickly growing tired of, his cellphone pressed to his ear. "I was just thinking… you know, Lucifer is an angel. So, the other angels might be able to get into Sorzie's dreams the same way." He was sure to use Sam's nickname to hide how serious the situation was. "But if they did that, would we really be able to keep them out? I mean, what if different angels controlled different dreams? You would have to guard against every individual angel, right?"

Castiel responded haltingly, confusion thick in his voice. "Well, yes. I don't believe there is a way to simply cut mental contact with all of Heaven. Has… has Sam told you of any concerning dreams?"

Wetting his lips, Liam continued to gaze upward, one arm folded under his head. "No, it's just my anxiety. You know, telling me that different things might happen." He glanced down at Calypso, who was curled up against his right side. "It's just me worrying."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. We haven't seen any sign of Heaven trying to get into Sam's dreams. Or anyone's dreams, really." Castiel paused, and Liam could picture the thoughtful crease in his brow. "If a situation arises wherein Heaven is entering someone's dreams, I can always look for additional ways to guard the mind."

Liam felt his stomach twist, and he tried to keep his voice as casual as possible. "Maybe you should start looking now, just in case. I mean, there's no reason why Heaven wouldn't attack our minds, so…"

"I understand your concern, and I can certainly take a look, but you must understand how busy I am, Liam. We're up to twenty-six angels who are willing to fight with us, and we're trying to recruit more every day. Heaven is sending more and more soldiers after us, and we are still searching for a place to hide the ones who have sided with us. I am scouring all of Chicago, trying to find some sign of Death. I just…" Castiel sighed softly, but it didn't sound like he was angry or annoyed. It was more defeated than anything. "I will take a look, alright? If it will help ease your anxiety, I will try to find some resources that shed some light on Heaven's mental influence."

Barely keeping himself from a sigh of relief, Liam nodded. "Okay. I really appreciate it." He glanced toward the door, wondering if Sam and Dean were having any more luck today than the days that came before. "I'm sorry. I know it's a bother, I just—"

"Doing bothersome things for people you care about is one of the ways you show them that you love them." Castiel didn't hesitate. "I will gladly do what I can to help you." He paused. "Liam, do you think Heaven has been affecting your mind?"

Liam tried not to respond too fast. "No, nothing like that. I mean, I'm sure Sorzie and Dee told you I've been having trouble sleeping, but… I just go through phases like that sometimes. I think it has to do with my trauma."

"I will see if I can find any spells or rituals that put you into a deeper sleep. Perhaps your nightmares and anxieties will subside if we involve something supernatural. I—" Castiel broke off, and Liam could hear someone talking in the background. "I apologize, Liam, but Amane and Balthazar are requesting my assistance."

"It's totally okay!" Liam felt a familiar sensation of guilt. "Thanks for listening. Love you!"

"Yes, I… I love you, too. Very much. Be safe, Liam."

Smiling, Liam held the phone to his ear until the call ended, and then he let his hand fall to the mattress with a sigh. "I've gotta figure this out, Cali. It's been a week and a half." He shook his head, hardly able to keep his eyes open. "I'm so tired…"

Still curled up, Calypso let out a soft mew.

"If there's no way to fix this, it's just… it's going to kill them to know I can't sleep because Heaven wants to get to them." He sucked in a breath. "I mean, it's already hurting them. It's only going to get worse if they know why it's happening." He squinted. "I wonder if Heaven knows I haven't told them. It's… it's strange how they can get into my memories and show them to me, but somehow they can't look in my head to find out where we are right now. But Lucifer was in Dad's head without knowing where he was, and we know angels can manipulate memories because they made Dad and Uncle Dean forget who they were when they sent them to Sandover."

Calypso lifted her head, looking at him for a moment, and then she slowly unwound herself. She climbed onto his stomach—he ignored the pain of her paws digging into him—and she laid down again, loafing on top of him.

"Zachariah has shown up a lot, but I've seen I don't even know how many angels. Eleven, maybe? Twelve? We can't stop all of them." Liam let go of his phone and ran his hand over her fur. "It's okay, though. Once Sorzie and Dee put Lucifer back in the Cage, this will all be over."

Of course, the thought had occurred to him that Heaven might continue tormenting him out of spite, but he chose not to dwell on that.

"It's not forever, Cali. I can do this."

She pressed her front paws into him, kneading his chest, and while she didn't seem fully convinced, she didn't argue with him.

"I can do this."

"Lee."

Liam tried to look at Dean, his eyes unfocused. "Hmm?"

Dean knelt down by the bed, wetting his lips and looking incredibly nervous. He watched Liam for a moment, looked down and took a breath, and then looked at Liam again. "Bud, you know I'm not good at this."

"Dee, I'm f—"

"Don't—" Dean held up a hand, taking a moment to calm himself. "Don't say you're fine." He dropped the hand. "I… Lee, I know that me and your dad, we… we try and take on everything ourselves, you know, because…" He struggled for words. "Because we feel like it's our job. We don't want to burden anyone else with our problems, and we don't want to hurt our family, and we… we just keep it to ourselves."

Sniffing quietly, Liam rolled onto his side so he was fully facing Dean.

"And sometimes, you know, that's okay." Dean took a breath, making extremely unconfident eye contact. "But not always. Sometimes you need to realize that… family is there to help you through stuff… and especially as a kid, it's just—it's not your job to protect everyone." He opened his mouth like he was going to continue, and then he redirected himself. "I… I get it, okay? I get it more than Sam does."

Liam blinked, scooting a little closer and trying to ignore the shadows on the edges of his vision.

"Man, when I was your age…" Dean sighed and shook his head, gaze drifting up before coming back down to Liam. "I don't resent my dad for it, but for as long as I can remember, it was drilled into my head: take care of Sam. Take care of Sam, take care of Sam, take care of Sam." He wet his lips. "I hid so much stuff. Not just from Sam, but from my dad, because I knew anything I told him would just be a distraction. It would just take his attention away from hunting and keeping Sam safe."

If it wasn't for how utterly drained he was, Liam would have been squirming uncomfortably, the logical part of his brain telling him that Dean was right.

"I didn't tell him about the nightmares, and the injuries, and how stupid I felt when I couldn't get good grades. I told him it was just a headache when it was a migraine that had me sleeping in front of the toilet because I was puking so much." Dean held his hands up helplessly. "You hear what I'm saying, Lee? I do get it. I promise, I do."

Eyes burning, Liam started to curl up, drawing his knees closer to his chest.

"But… buddy, part of growing up is learning when you can handle a problem alone and when you need help." Dean looked at Liam with earnest, passionate eyes. "And you need help, Liam."

Liam felt a sob burst up his throat. "I can't. You can't fix this, and if I tell you—" He shook his head, reaching up and covering his face. "If I tell you, you're just gonna get hurt."

"Don't you realize we're already hurting?" Dean let out a soft, sighing noise and put his hand on Liam's head. "Telling us what's going on might hurt us, but that doesn't make it your fault. You're not doing this." He gently brushed Liam's bangs back. "Cas told me you asked him about Heaven being in Sam's dreams."

Swallowing hard, Liam screwed his eyes shut behind his hands. I knew that was a bad plan.

"Liam, is Heaven in your dreams? Is Heaven doing something while you sleep?"

Liam curled up. "I—" He drew a shuddering breath, having no idea what he was supposed to do. "I just—I just want to protect you like you protect me!"

Dean didn't respond right away, but suddenly the hand on Liam's head was gone, and then the bed sank. "I told you, Liam. I get that. I get that." He put his hand on his nephew's shoulder, squeezing gently. "But you don't have to protect us. Especially not when it's going to cause you so much pain. It's not your job to protect us, and I know you want to do it anyway. I was the same way."

Liam sobbed as Dean started to rub circles on his back, and he tried to curl up even tighter. "Why can't I do this? Why can't I do this?"

"Buddy, it's not that you can't do it; it's that you don't have to. You don't have to push yourself to your absolute limit just to try and keep us safe." Dean worked his hand under Liam's body, pulling him into a sitting position and then tucking him into his side. "You are a survivor, Liam. You always have been. You have shouldered so much, all by yourself, over the years, so I know you could survive this alone, too. But we're here, and we want to help." He squeezed him. "Let us help."

Liam shuddered, knees pressed to his chest and hands tangled in his hair. He knew—he could feel it in his core—that he had already surrendered. Guilt and shame made him resist the sensation in his chest, but he knew Dean had won. He sobbed quietly, fighting with himself, sounds he couldn't quite describe rising in his throat as if he were yelling at himself.

"There's an angel…" Liam gasped. "Zachariah. He's the one who started it, and he's the one who shows up the most. But there have been others. That's why—that's why I didn't tell you! Because we can't keep all of Heaven out of my head. Even if we can stop Zachariah, they'll just send someone new to—"

"Shh, Liam, that's okay." Dean rubbed his shoulder, keeping him close. "It's okay if we can't stop him. Sam and I still want to know what's going on." He took a breath. "So, the angels make you see memories. What else are they doing?"

Liam shook, screwing his eyes shut. "It's—it's just that. But… it's every time I fall asleep." Sniffing, he let one of his hands fall away from his face and grab Dean's shirt instead. "It's right away, too. I know—I know it's hard to tell how time passes when you're sleeping, but I know you're not supposed to dream right away. But I look at the clock, and I wake up forty-five minutes later from a nightmare, and—and I'm not sure it's supposed to be that way."

"I honestly don't know, buddy. We'd have to look it up." Dean sighed softly. "And I bet whatever sleep you do get isn't making you feel rested."

"Not at all," Liam whimpered.

Dean muttered under his breath, and Liam couldn't make it out, but he assumed it was a swear word. "How long has it been, Lee? I mean, I know what we've been seeing, but… you're good at hiding stuff." He stammered slightly. "And I—I don't mean that in a bad way. I think we're all pretty good at keeping stuff to ourselves when we need to. I just meant…" He sighed. "How long, Liam?"

Licking his lips, Liam felt another tear slip down his cheek. "Two weeks." He sniffed. "I've started seeing shadows. Just… just out of the corner of my eyes."

"Okay." Dean took a breath, like he was trying to keep himself calm. "Okay. We gotta tell Sam and Cas, and then we gotta start working on a game plan."

Liam let out a quiet sob. "Dean." He shook his head. "I know… I know you wanna fix this, because that's what you do, but… we could barely keep Lucifer out of Dad's head." He grit his teeth as another cry escaped him. "We can't fix this."

"We won't know until we try." Dean gently grabbed Liam's wrist and pulled his hand away from his face, and then he put his own hand on Liam's cheek and pulled his face up. "It's gonna be okay, Liam. We're gonna figure this out."

Seconds passed with only quiet, repressed sobs, blue staring into green as Liam tried to process the idea that there might be a way to make his pain end.

It could be possible. I got out of Heaven, after all. I got away from Mom and Dad. I got away from the group home. I never thought I would get away from any of that pain, but I did.

"It's gonna be okay," Dean repeated. "We're gonna figure this out."

Liam just gripped Dean's shirt tighter, turning his body so he could bury his face in his uncle's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Woah, hey, no." Dean combed his fingers through Liam's dark red hair. "Don't apologize. You're trying to help us. You just want to take care of your family." He kissed the top of Liam's head. "I told you, Lee. I get it. I get it. It's okay."

Whimpering, Liam breathed in Dean's cologne and nodded. "Okay. Okay." He cried softly. "Okay."

"Daddy, please not that. It hurts when you do that."

"Shh, it'll start to feel good soon enough. You just have to get used to it."

"But—"

"Just relax and enjoy it, baby."

Liam gasped, eyes snapping open, sweat soaking his body. He curled his fingers through the sheets, feeling the weight of Calypso sleeping on his lower half. Trying to breathe, he felt around in the dark, grabbing his phone from where it sat charging, and he looked at the time.

3:52 AM

Sighing softly, Liam locked the screen and closed his eyes. It had been three days since he told Dean about the angels giving him nightmares, and his family had been working diligently to find some way of protecting Liam's mind. Liam smiled when they encouraged him, but he knew it was pointless. He knew there was no way to save him from this.

What if it's not really them?

His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't thought about it before, but… what if the angels had somehow captured him? What if he went to sleep one night and woke up in some kind of illusion? Or what if he went to sleep and never woke up at all? What if he was still in some long, drawn-out, convoluted dream?

No, that's… He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. They couldn't create something that complicated. All the different places we've gone, and the things we've seen, and the demons we've interrogated and… just everything. They couldn't fake all that.

But what if they could?

We've been in Chicago for almost three weeks. We've gone a few places, like the store and the library, but I've mostly been in this motel room. They could fake something like that… maybe they got me after they found out about us going to Chicago? But how had they found out they were going to Chicago? Well, if we can interrogate demons, then so can they. Maybe they got one to talk, and maybe…

Liam pressed a hand to his head, trying to shake away the thoughts. No. You're being crazy. He stopped. Maybe you really are being crazy. He had done enough Google searches to know delusions came with sleep deprivation. He hadn't gone the entire time without sleeping—the angels probably knew that would kill him way too quickly—but he hadn't been getting the amount that he needed. Maybe those delusions were kicking in.

I… I…

He felt a tingling sensation in his limbs, and he tried to open his eyes, but he was just too exhausted. He might have been delusional, and maybe going back to sleep was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was too exhausted to do anything else.

I…

And he fell under again.

"You okay, buddy?"

Liam swallowed discreetly and nodded, walking past the Sam imposter toward the door to the motel room. "Just taking Cali out."

"Okay." Not Sam smiled from where he sat on the bed, but there was something sad about it. "Do you have your phone?" He held up his hands. "I know you're just going outside, but… with Heaven being in your head and all, I want to make sure you can reach us."

Or you want to track me to wherever I go when I run away. Liam wasn't worried about the angels reading his thoughts—if they had been able to do that, they would have known Liam figured them out more than twenty-four hours ago. "Yeah, I got my phone."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too." Liam lifted his hand in a slight wave and opened the door, waiting for Calypso to step over the threshold before he followed her.

Okay. Deep breath.

Not Castiel was out supposedly looking for ways to shield Liam's mind, and Not Dean was following a lead on Death somewhere in the city. Not Sam was researching from his laptop because ever since Liam had admitted to Heaven being in his head, he hadn't been left alone at the motel. Yet another suspicious act that told him they were trying to control him.

It doesn't matter. I'm leaving.

Liam walked across the parking lot, slowing to a stop and pointing down the street. "Did you see that, Cali?"

Calypso followed his direction, mewing softly, but after a few seconds of staring, she looked at him in confusion.

"I think I saw something." He shifted, his worn-out Converse scuffing against the pavement. "Will you go check it out for me?"

For a moment, Calypso just looked at him, like she could tell he was up to something, but then she relented. She let out a meow and trotted off in the direction Liam had pointed, tail sticking straight up in the air.

That's everyone. Liam watched her move, waiting until she turned down an alley to investigate, and then he bolted. He ran in the opposite direction, the cold, December air biting his face as he made his way toward the inner part of the city. He figured the more people they had to imitate, the more their illusion would wane, and then he would be able to figure out a way to get out of Heaven.

It's so cold… But he pushed that thought aside, feet pounding against the blacktop and then against the sidewalk as he moved through the city. He glanced up at the massive buildings, wondering what would happen if he tried to touch them. Had they really gone through the trouble of creating fake skyscrapers in Heaven? Just keep running. Panting softly, vision blurring, he turned to the right, not wanting them to be able to see him from the motel parking lot. He passed some shops—mostly for food, it looked like—and then it was more gray squares that looked like maybe they were apartment complexes or office buildings.

He didn't know how long he ran. He just knew he kept thinking every step was going to be his last, and he remembered wondering if the shadow figures he saw from time to time were hallucinations from the sleep deprivation or a device of Heaven. It started to rain, moisture quickly soaking his red hoodie, and that made the sting of the air even worse.

But he didn't stop.

He didn't stop until his vision was blurring so badly he couldn't even tell where he was going anymore, at which point he turned down an alley. He stumbled past a dumpster, going to the other side of it and collapsing in a heap on the ground where no one on the street would be able to see him. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrestled an angel blade he had taken from the motel out of his hoodie pocket, clutching it with both hands and trying to catch his breath.

It's okay. It's okay. Even if they're in your head, they don't know where you are. Or at least, it doesn't seem like they know. Otherwise they would have taken me much sooner, but… but they did manage to find me when they found out we were coming to Chicago, so maybe they'll find me again?

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it. He could imagine all of the angels pretending to be his family were blowing the device up, but he wasn't about to make a phone call until he knew he was out of Heaven. Let them keep up the illusion. Let them try. He wasn't falling for it.

I'm not gonna be able to stay awake. I've… I've got to let myself sleep as much as the nightmares will let me, and then I've got to run again. Chicago is big, but it's not really Chicago, so I should be able to make my way to the edge of the city. Once I'm there, I might be able to get out of Heaven.

Sighing, Liam slouched against the dumpster, nose wrinkling at the odor it gave off. But it wasn't a big deal, so he closed his eyes and gripped the angel blade a little tighter.

Just… a little longer… then I'll be home…

Exhaustion dragged him down into the darkness.

Author's Note: I actually got the inspiration for this chapter from horatiofrog, on AO3, who suggested Zachariah might make a move to take Liam away from his home again. It got my mind working on a completely different track than it had been, and I really like how this chapter turned out!

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