I own nothing.
I know I am trapped, even before I open my eyes. I can feel the crushing weight of the metal pinning me down. I struggle, trying to gain a little edgeway, then I can try to wriggle
out of the wreck that was once a car. I loved that car. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother me to see it like this. All I can think about is getting to Sam. The fact that my little brother
needs me is blinding me to everything. It's blinding me to logic. And, probably the pain, that has come with the crash that is my fault. Looking around I am relived to see that no-
one else seems to be hurt. I wouldn't be able to live with that. Knowing I deliberately endangered someone elses life. Mine? I don't hold it in that high an esteem. I lie within the
twisted pile of metal, just off the road, that used to be a car and wait. I have no chance of getting out of the car. I am only human. As frustrating as it seems, I will just
have to wait for someone to drive along and help me. Sammy's may be in a whole heap of trouble but I cannot get to him. I can only hope dad takes me seriously and goes to
Paulo Alto to check on him.
"HELP!" I yell into the darkness. Sighing, I save my strength and begin the long wait for a set of headlights to pierce the inky darkness. This isn't an easy thing. I am not the most
patient of people.
When Sam Winchester wakes, he knows that he is in a hospital. The smell of the disinfectant registers long before the hospital room does. He knows he is not alone. The erson
sitting in the seat beside his bed is not his girlfriend, as he expects, but his father. The sight of the man, whom he hasn't seen in over a year, rams home the harsh reality. Dad is
here because I'm the only family that he has left. Dad's here because Dean's dead. The rooms blurs as his eyes swim with tears. Sam isn't sure of how long he's cying before his
dad whispers to him.
"Hey hey Sam. It's alright. Your safe now. You are safe."
Sam doesn't feel safe. He feels afraid. Afraid for Dean. Afraid for himself. What was he supposed to do without Dean. How was he even supposed to contemplate something
"What happened Sam? What did it? What hurt you?"
This confuses Sam. He frowns. "What are you talking about?
"Dean said you called him tonight-"
"I didn't" Sam insists. "The first time I heard from either of you was when you called me tonight."
His dads expression hardens. "I didn't call you Sam," There is a steely note in his voice.
"You did!" Sam insists,"You called me to tell me that-" Sam breaks off, unable to continue.
JOhn is silent for a second. "What did I tell you?"
"That Dean's dead." His voice is barely a whisper. John gasps. The only reaction he gives to the news. "Dean's not dead."
Hope blossoms within Sam, "He's not?" He's afraid to believe.
"I think he's in trouble though. He was panicked when I spoke to him. He was convinced you were in trouble. The call cut out and I haven't been able to reach him since. That
was last night. I came here, hoping he'd show."
Sam doesn't say anything. He absorbs the news. It isn't good. If Dean though he was in touble, his brother would be here with him as soon as he could. His absence did not bode
well. A knot tightens in his stomach.
"DAd," he asks tentavily, "What's going on?"
"My guess is something's trying to get at you boys. It's playing on both your fears. It's using them against you."