"Chapter Nine: Thinking About You"

After hacking into every surveillance feed within a hundred mile radius of Lawrence, Ash turned up nothing on Sam. He went as far as searching through any of the fake credit cards the youngest Winchester had as well as his cell phone records. Nada turned up. Bobby and Ellen had returned to the apartment with nothing, not even the faintest trace of sulfur. It was as though the whole warehouse had been cleaned top to bottom. Dean felt like he was at the end of his rope, a deep ache filling his chest. Sam was nowhere to be found - a homicidal Sam nonetheless.

Dean knew that they needed manpower to find his brother; however, he wasn't too big on trusting. There had been too many times Dean was betrayed by those he allowed himself to trust. He had seen that not all hunters were willing to help their own. There were only two people that Dean had trusted without question: John and Sam. With John dead and Sam not quite himself, Dean was beside himself. Even a hunter that Bobby and Ellen trusted could turn out to be a mistake. Foolishly, he had trusted Gordon Walker - a man who he sought comfort in after his father's death, a guy who turned out to be a nut job who tried to kill Sammy.

"One day he's going to be a monster," Gordon's voice rang in his head. "It's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you."

Drowning the last of his beer, Dean stared at the hunters across the kitchen table. They were all telling him they didn't know where to go from here. Just wait it out, Ash had said. Let Sam come to us, Bobby continued. We'll find him one way or anothing but right now we don't know where to look, Ellen added. They could all give their comforting words, their sympathic smiles, their pitiful eyes but it meant nothing. They didn't care for Sam like he did. Sam wasn't their brother, their only family.

"What are you thinking about doing?" Savannah asked as she took a seat next to him.

The three hunters left to go back to their motel room for the night. Savannah offered her apartment up to them but they had refused. Instead, Dean was the only one staying with her. They were all weary about the FBI still being in Lawrence, snooping around to find the Winchester brothers so it was suggested that Dean stay in one place. In all honesty, Dean could care less if the FBI was hot on his trail or not. His only concern was Sammy.

"I have to find him. How the hell can I find him? The cell phone was ditched so I can't track him that way. He's not using credit cards, he's avoiding cameras…"

"I don't know much about this… hunting stuff, demons and whatnot, but are psychics real? I mean, I read this article about psychometry once-"

"A psychic," Dean whispered. "Missouri."

"You're going to Missouri?"

"No, my dad knew this psychic named Missouri. She lives here. Except… she can't find people. It doesn't work that way."

"Maybe she could sense him if he was still in Lawrence?" Savannah suggested. "I'm being annoying aren't I? I'm sorry, I've been doing a lot of research ever since… you know."

Thinking about Missouri, Dean wondered if she could help them. It was a lost cause, he knew it. When Sam and him visited her before, she told them that she could not help them locate their father. Why would it be any different now? Swallowing hard, Dean got up from the table and started to pace. Sammy was special, maybe the psychic could somehow tap into his mind. Maybe, just maybe, Missouri could help him locate his brother.

"Do you know if my car's parked outside this place?"

"Um, no… Ash - is that his name? - took your car."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Do you think you can give me a lift?"

Irritated beyond all else that his car was taken away from him so he wouldn't make any rash decisions, he hauled his frame into the familiar Mustang. Savannah sighed in the driver's seat as she twisted the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the parking garage, Dean leaned forward to turn on the radio. He couldn't stand the quiet. So many thoughts were flying through his head, scenarios flashing through his mind each one worse than the one before. Journey blared out of the speakers causing Savannah to reach over and turn it down.

Six Journey songs later and the Mustang was parked outside of the worn looking cream house. Dean was out of the car before the engine was even killed. By the time Savannah was out of the car, Dean was all ready pounding his fist against door. The door was swung open and Missouri Mosley stood in a fuzzy robe with her hands resting on her hips. Her hard expression was gone as soon as it came, her hands reaching out for Dean.

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said soothingly.

She stepped aside to allow Dean to enter. Her dark eyes then spotted Savannah standing on the porch steps, uncertainty clouding her features. Missouri motioned for the girl to come inside. Dean waited impatiently in the entranceway, rubbing the scruffy beard that graced his face. Missouri ushered them both into the living room.

"You really don't have any idea where Sam is?" she questioned as she sat down in a chair across from the couch where the newcomers sat. "How long has he been missing?"

"It's not just that-" Dean started.

"Oh, dear. This is what John was afraid of. I didn't quite understand at first… but now it all makes perfect sense."

"What do you mean? When was the last time you even talked to my dad?"

"Your daddy is the most stubborn man I've ever met in my life. He was here, in Lawrence, over a year ago when you and Sam had the job with your old house. He stayed here, stayed hidden in the shadows - told me that he couldn't see you boys because it was too dangerous. I said, John Winchester, those are you boys and they deserve to see you. He was so adamant, snapping at me whenever I accidentally read him. As though I can control it."

Dean didn't have time to be irritated at his father, didn't have pleasure to question farther about why John would purposely not seen them. His mind was wrapping around what Missouri knew about Sam, what she had read from their father.

"You read my dad? What- what was he thinking?"

"About the demon… about Sam's abilities… how the two were connected."

"He told me if I couldn't save Sammy, then I'd have to kill him," Dean choked. "Is this what he meant? Am I supposed to kill my little brother? How can he expect me to do that?"

"Dean, Sweetie, I did intercept some thoughts of John thinking about killing Sam…"

"He's lost, Missouri. He just needs help. Tell me you know how to help him."

"Demons aren't really my forte. All I knew is that it was real evil that took your mom that night, and I merely pointed John in the right direction."

"What do you mean?"

"I introduced John to a few hunters, get him started in the game."


"Daniel Elkins, Bobby Singer, and Jim Murphy."

"Do you know the Roadhouse crew?"

"Not personally. John talked about them a few times though. Said he thought he could trust the Bill and Ellen until..."

Dean leaned forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. He lazily looked at Missouri as though trying to figure her out. Pastor Jim was the one person John trusted most. He entrusted the good pastor to look after his kids which was a feat that no other hunter had acquired over the years. If the pastor was still alive, Dean was certain he would turn to the wise man for guidance. Missouri had introduced the two, so perhaps he could take that leap of faith and trust her.

"Is there anything I can do to help him? Get him back to his normal self?"

"From what I can gather about the situation, Sam died. I'm not positive that there is anything you can do. It could merely be a demon using Sam's body now and his soul could very much be gone."

"No, he's in there somewhere. There was another psychic, Max Miller… Sam told me that the kid talked about how the demon was a savior. That doesn't really scream possession to me but more like a psychotic kid who thinks that the demon is the next Jim Jones."

"If Sam's still connected to his body, then we might be able to help him."

"How do we go about that? You got some magical herbs you can cook up for me?" Dean faltered at the look the psychic gave him. "Sorry… Ma'am. Uh, but, Bobby said that he was lost inside his body so I think there is a good chance that he's in there somewhere."

"If he's trapped, my best guess would to be to trigger him. Do you understand what I'm saying, Boy?"

"Yes… no idea."

"Sometimes, with possessions, if a possessed gets enough emotional strength, they can override the demon possessing them. Now, if Sam is trapped inside his own body with no control, sort of like a possession, then enough emotional strength can help him push away the curtains."

"So even if Sammy's not possessed, if I trigger the right memories… if he realizes I'm there he can break through?"

"In theory, Dean, I'm not saying it would work."

Leaning back on the afghan, he thought back to when John had been possessed. He had pleaded for his father to stop as the demon tortured him. He remembered that John had broken through the possession, pushed that yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch back just long enough for Sam to get free and grab the Colt.

"You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, Son!"

After he found Sam, he'd just have to make the emotional connection he made with his father. He had to plead to Sam, help him to fight off whatever demonic control the demon had over his little brother's body. It was Sam's only shot… it was their only shot. Dean looked up at Missouri. He could feel her reading him, digging into his thoughts. He didn't know if it was intentional or not and he couldn't give a damn. He had what he needed. It had to work.

"Thanks," Dean said as he stood up wincing slightly. "You really helped. I just gotta find Sam now."

"Dean, Sweetie, you listen to that pretty girl, okay?" Her head inclined towards Savannah. "Don't overexert yourself or wind up back in the hospital. You'll be no good to Sam there."

"You're like one of those cheesy after school specials," he said with a slight grin. "Don't overexert… don't do drugs…"

"I mean it, Dean Winchester! You call me if you need anything. Let Bobby help you."

He nodded, keeping his lips together tightly. Savannah followed him out of the house and to the car. Getting in, Dean felt a small weight lift off his chest. He knew how to save Sammy now. All that he needed to do was get the Impala back and find his brother. Everything would work out. He had to believe that, drill it into his brain to keep him sane. There was no way he could function if he thought the worst, if he didn't believe that he could break whatever hold was over Sam.

The next morning, the three hunters appeared at the apartment with ample amounts of books, research, and a trusty laptop. Ash set up in the kitchen while Ellen and Bobby took the living room. Savannah, who had called in a family emergency at work the last few days, finally went back to the hospital entrusting Dean with her home. Dean sat with Ash, trying to figure out where Sam and the other psychics would go. If Lawrence was a set up to get Sam, where would their next set up be?

"No demonic signs cropping up, still no credit card usage, no guys matching Sam's description has checked into a motel room using any of the aliases you gave me, no video feed as of yet… I don't know what to tell you, Man. It's a big negative on everything Sam."

"Look, I know how to deal with Sam," Dean started, "and I'm afraid that Ellen and Bobby think that killing Sam is the only way. So I need you to get my car back here, and I need you to tell me when he pops up on your computer. He's bound to come out sooner or later, you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, Man, yeah. You want me to inform you when I get a hit on Sam but leave the old geezers out of it?"


"Lying to Ellen… that's really asking a lot from me. What do I get out of it?"

"A PBR, my friend."

"Make it two and you got yourself a deal," Ash replied with a smirk.

"I knew I always liked you."

Several counties away from Lawrence, Sam Winchester and Max Miller sat in a van outside of a motel. Sam's hands were tight around the steering wheel, his eyes shut tightly. Somewhere, deep down inside, he knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that he should just knock Max out and go find someone to help him. Swallowing hard, he was snapped out of his thoughts when Max started talking to him. He was explaining what to do, what would make their savior proud.

Opening the glove department, Sam pulled out a knife. He twisted it in his hand before getting out of the van and walking to room 12. On the way, he saw a surveillance camera - exactly what he was looking for. Looking directly at the red blinking light, he smirked before giving the thumbs up. The savior said that murdering hunters were trying to track them that way. The one he was told to kill before but failed was tracking him that way. That hunter needed to come, so he could finish the job.

Knocking on the motel room, Sam glanced down at his watch. It was nearly nine at night. The door opened until the chain was taut. He smirked at the brunette that peered out of the small space. She let out a small laugh of disbelief before the door closed. The chain rustled before the door opened again.

"Sam? Sam Winchester? How did you even know I was here in Kansas of all places?"

"It's what I do, Sarah, I find people. It's part of the job description."

Sarah Blake smiled warmly before stepping aside to allow the newcomer to come inside. He stepped through the threshold and looked around the motel room. It was a nicer motel than most, not decorated in an outlandish theme. The door shut behind Sam, causing him to turn around.

"I just arrived," she commented. "That's why I'm so surprised to see you here. I mean… that last time we saw each other was about a year ago."

"I was in town, and I saw you driving," he told her. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, my dad, you remember him? Buckets of sunshine. He's in Europe trying to find some artwork to auction off. He e-mails me yesterday telling me I had to get to Kansas to meet an aspiring artist by the name of Ted Nugent. Honestly, anyone who uses a stage name like that, can he really be any good? Wouldn't you want your own name to go with your work instead of some musician? What about you? You and Dean ghost busting around here?"

"Something like that. I am hunting here though."

"So my dad set me up with these accommodations, classy huh? I guess Mister Nugent is fearful of hotels," she joked as she walked to a mini fridge. "I mean, this motel, they have a mini bar. A mini bar filled with beer. It's so elegant I can't get over it. My penny-pinching father finally hit a new low. I hate motels. They have the worst beds."

Sarah opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. Handing one to Sam, he took it and immediately started to drink. Sarah chuckled softly before opening hers and taking a sip. Pulling the bottle away from her lips, she looked up at Sam with a disgusted look on her face. Her nose scrunched up as she stuck out her tongue as though to get the taste out of her mouth.

"It tastes more like bitter water than beer."

"You know, Sarah, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"That you have to get in the middle of all of this."


The smile on her face fell as she watched Sam set down his bottle on the floor. Cracking his knuckles, he advanced towards her. Sarah stumbled backwards until her back was pinned on the wall. The bottle dangled from her fingertips before tightening around the top.

"Hi, I'm Ted Nugent," he said with a smirk. "Actually, I'm your daddy too. I sent you that e-mail, and I made these shitty accommodations for you."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? Sarah, nothing is wrong with me. I've seen the light." He rubbed his chin as he let out a small breathy laugh. "You know, I used to think Dean was a hero, that he was some sort of godsend. I idolized him for years, ever since I could remember. You used to tell me not to worry, everything would be okay, that he'd always be there to save me. Except, he's a liar and a cheat and a murderer. I found this guy, Sarah, he's a savior. He showed me so much, really opened my eyes. I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but you're bait. No hard feelings though, okay?"

Tears burned Sarah's eyes as her gaze darted to the door across the room. Gripping the bottle harder, she brought it up as quickly as she could. Beer drizzled out of the top as she swung it at Sam. He grabbed her wrist tightly before ramming it into the wall behind her. She whimpered as the bottle slipped from her fingertips and crashed to the floor.

"Did you really have to do that? I thought we came to an understanding."

"You're not Sam," she whispered as tears ran down her face. "You're not him!"

"Oh, Darling, I'm better than Sam. Sammy Winchester… how pathetic was he? Followed his brother around like a sick puppy dog, following orders until he tried to grow a pair by running off to Stanford like the fuckin' coward his daddy said he was. That part of me, that I'm so pure and innocent with my floppy hair and sad eyes part of me is gone. I'm a better person. The man I was telling you about? The savior? I owe him so much."

"Sam, please, this isn't you," she whimpered as his grip on her wrist tightened.

"Save your blubbering for when I rip the flesh off your bones."

In Lawrence, Dean's cell phone rang. Quirking open an eye, he turned to the nightstand and saw Ash's number shining in the bluish tint. He sat up in bed as he flipped the phone open, placing it against his ear. His eyes lingered down to Savannah sleeping soundly next to him. Her pajamas were twisted around her small frame.


"I've got a hit on Sam. He's at a motel about two hours drive from here."

Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he looked over at the blinking clock next to the bed. 1:23. Running a hand through his hair, Dean swung his legs over the bed and hoisted himself up. He grabbed his leather jacket that was hung over a chair and made his way to the front door.

"Is he checking in?"

"No, but, Dean, Man, this is a trap. He looked right in the camera. He knows we're watching him, and he's waiting for you."

"Are there any hunters staying there that you know of?"

"No one I recognize. Then again, Bobby or Ellen might know but I can't ask them for the sake of those PBR's."

"Give me the names."

"Sylvia Henson. Marcus Fletcher. Polly Jacobs. Wesley Whells. Sarah Blake. Ned-"

"Sarah Blake?" Dean faltered. "You've got to be kidding me."

Author's Note - Another chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed. Next chapter: Sam and Dean show down. I'm excited to write it. Reviews are welcomed, so do click the little button and spend 30 seconds writing something. I do read them all and take in consideration of the suggestions I get - not that I got any for this story so far. Oh well. I just hope you enjoyed.