In order to help John and Dean stop the human monster who had hurt young Sam, Pastor Jim called Randy to get the women away from the house. It was Pauline who answered the phone and although she was reluctant to leave her husband, Pastor Jim managed to convince her and Jane to come the church for a few hours.

Leaving Sam sleeping soundly in the rectory, Pastor Jim met Pauline and Jane in the parking lot of his church. He did not know how long Dean and John would be, but he would keep Randy's wife and daughter in town as long as he could.

Pauline looked frazzled when she stepped out of the car- her hair was uncombed and her makeup streaked by tears- but she smiled at the Pastor just the same. Jane kept her gaze on her white sneakers as she followed Jim and her mother into the church.

Unlocking the doors and turning on the lights, Jim revealed the interior of the church. Not large or extravagant, the church had a rather homey, unassuming design.

Pausing at the font at the front of the church, Jim dipped his fingers into the water in the font and made the sign of the cross on his brow.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," he told Pauline, "I could this myself if I was about ten years younger but now…"

Jim laughed and shrugged.

"It's really no problem," Pauline assured him, "In fact, Jane and I are happy to help. Right, Sweetie?"

The girl nodded but didn't say anything.

"We've had quite the day," Pauline commented apologetically and brushed her daughter's blonde bangs away from her brow.

"Oh?" Jim asked, "What happened?"

"I called that Mr. Winchester, like you suggested," the woman told him hesitantly.

Jim nodded.

"He came to the house with his sons," Pauline continued, "He said he could help."

"Good, good," Jim put his hands behind his back and began walking up the aisle towards the altar and large crucifix hung on the wall above it.

He didn't see Pauline's face twist but heard her tone as she spoke next.

"I thought it would work," she told him, "But when Randy came home the younger boy went crazy, slashed at him for no reason."

Jim stopped in front of the altar, peering up at the crucifix.

"I think the cut's going to need stitches," Pauline continued, "I hate to think what would have happened if Randy hadn't put his hand out; he could have been seriously hurt."

Jim didn't respond, he continued to look at the crucifix.

"I know that Mr. Winchester is your friend," Pauline added, "But to have a child who's clearly that unstable around people…"

"Yes?" Jim turned.

The woman blushed, embarrassed.

"Well, I… I don't know, I mean, it's really none of mu business," Pauline stammered and then tried to change the subject, "You wanted us to help decorate for the Youth Bible Camp, right?"

Jim smiled, "Yes, I did."

SPN

Dean sat bolt upright in the passenger's seat of the Impala, waiting impatiently for Pauline's car to pull away from the house.

"Relax," John told his son but the way he growled the command, it was clear he was not relaxed at all either.

"I just want to get this bastard," Dean ground out, "He can't get away with hurting Sammy."

John looked at his eldest son, his expression softening.

"I know, Dean. I want to make sure he never lays a finger on another kid ever again too."

The father reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder. Glancing out the windshield, John saw the exterior light suddenly come on at the front of the house.

"Looks like the wife and daughter are leaving," John said. Dean put a hand on the car door, eager to get inside the house and do what they had come to do.

"Wait," John put an arm out to stop Dean from leaping out of the car.

They watched in silent anticipation as Pauline and Jane climbed into Pauline's silver 1992 Toyota Camry and pulled out of the driveway, heading in the opposite direction from where the Winchesters were parked.

John didn't move for several minutes, waiting; he could feel Dean's heart pick up speed as the seconds ticked by. The light above the house's front door went out and John opened his door.

"C'mon," he climbed out of the Impala and went to the trunk. Dean followed, his face grim with determination but his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Reaching into the trunk, John pulled out a handgun, checked it was loaded and passed it to Dean. His son hid the weapon in the waistband of his jeans as John took up his own gun and closed the lid of the trunk.

John motioned to Dean silently and they crept towards the house, their footfalls silent as they approached the house.

Dean's heart hammered in his chest with dark excitement. In just a few minute's time Randy was going to find out he shouldn't have messed with his brother.

Crossing the wide lawn, crickets falling silent as the passed, the hunters climbed the porch steps, holding their breath as the wood creaked in protest and reached the front door.

John put a hand on the doorknob and found it locked. With a finger to his lips, he dug with his free hand into a jacket pocket and found his lock-pick kit.

Dean waited impatiently as, in the near-darkness, his father unlocked the front door, the task taking longer than usual as a result of the lack of light.

Stowing the lock-pick away, John slowly pushed the door open. The first floor appeared dark. John stepped inside first, quickly followed by his son, who closed and locked the door behind them.

Looking around, the hunter wondered if Randy had already gone to bed, but as they stepped further into the house, he saw an amber light glowing up somewhere upstairs.

"Pauline? Honey, is that you? Did you forget something?" the man's voice drifted downstairs towards the hunters.

Dean slid his gun out from his waistband but John held a hand out.

"Pauline? Are you okay?" Randy asked, his voice coming closer.

With one hand still held out, John put his finger to his lips to keep Dean quiet.

Randy suddenly appeared at the top of the staircase, his figure a silhouette.

Dean expected the man to ask who they were and perhaps try and run back the way he had come but he didn't seem to see them. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and began to head down the stairs.

Randy was halfway down the stairs when he stopped, hand on the railing and spoke again, "Who the hell are you?"

John didn't answer but aimed his gun at Randy and fired. Hitting the man in one knee and causing him to cry out and tumbled down the rest of the flight.

"God damn it!" Randy swore as he struggled to right himself, hands clawing at the staircase steps.

"What do you want? Money? Take it!" he snarled.

John stood over the man and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into a standing position.

"We don't want money," he said, "We want revenge."

"What?" Randy asked, eyes wide in the darkness as he tried to make out his attacker but then he spoke, "You."

Dean found a light switch and suddenly all three were blinded by the bright glow of the overhead light.

Randy squinted at John and Dean.

"I didn't do anything to that kid!" he growled, "You've got the wrong guy."

"We don't," Dean said, speaking for the first time since entering the house, "We know what you did to my little brother, what you did to those other kids."

Randy shook his head.

"It wasn't my fault," he said, "You don't understand. I didn't make your brother get into my car. I didn't force him at gunpoint."

John narrowed his eyes and pressed his gun against Randy's belly, "Don't you dare put the blame on my son."

"Go ahead, shoot me again, but really who's fault is it? Didn't you teach him about 'stranger danger'? Surely he's old enough to know he shouldn't get into cars with people he doesn't kn-"

Randy jerked as John fired his gun and then fell backwards when the hunter released him, sliding down the stairs. Randy gasped in pain, hands going to the bloody wound in his abdomen.

"What is this going to do?" he asked, his face going pale, "Killing me won't change what's happened."

Dean raised his gun but John stopped him as the temperature suddenly dropped, the hairs on the back of his neck raising.

Dean widened his eyes at his father, his breath visible. The overhead light flickered and suddenly a child appeared; a little boy wearing a pair of yellow overalls, one strap hanging down because it was missing, a blue-and-red striped shirt and bare feet. The little boy's face was an unhealthy grey colour, his brow eyes wide and sad. He didn't even seem to see the hunters but walked right past them towards Randy.

The man's eyes widened with shock.

"A-Archie," Randy stammered, struggling to back away, his uninjured leg scrabbling against the floor at the bottom of the stairs, slick with blood.

Dean shivered and stared as another spirit appeared, a small, blond-haired boy in a Boy Scout uniform.

The seventeen-year old jumped when he felt a hand on his arm but it was just his father pulling him to the side.

Two more spirits materialized. A boy of about ten or eleven with a shock of red hair and a boy with black hair. Just like Archie they only had eyes for Randy.

"Don't come any closer!" the man warned.

"Dean," John suddenly spoke and Dean turned to see one more spirit.

"Sammy," Dean whispered as the likeness of his younger brother appeared and began walking forwards, dressed in the same clothes he had been the day he'd accepted the ride from Randy.

Dean made to go forward but John put an arm out in front of him, preventing him from moving.

"Just watch," John spoke in Dean's ear.

The other spirits moved aside for Sam's likeness until they were all standing in front of Randy, the man laying crumbled at the bottom of the stairs, panting and voicing useless threats.

The hunters watched as one by one, the apparitions each reached out and touched Randy.

"Get away from me!" the man spat but the ghost boys did not move.

"Get- Get-" Randy stammered as a blinding white light began to glow from where he lay and his words were drowned out in an agonized scream.

Dean clenched his eyes shut against the light as the man's cries reached a climax and abruptly cut off, the lightbulb overhead shattering and plunging the house into darkness again.

Dean opened his eyes slightly, breathing heavily.

"Dad?" he asked and John spoke from beside him, "I'm here."

"What happened? Where did Sam go?" Dean asked, "Dad? Where's Sam?"

John put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, "It's okay Dean, I think he's okay."

"Is… Is Randy dead?" Dean asked.

In the gloom, he saw his father move forward and crouched down beside Randy's body, probably checking for a pulse.

"He's gone," John confirmed, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he told Dean and they quickly exited the house.

The hunters didn't speak again until they were in the Impala and driving back to the rectory.

"What was that back there?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," John admitted.

"How could Sam be there? I put him to bed at Jim's place. I saw him," Dean continued.

John just shook his head.

They pulled up in front of the rectory and Dean was out of the car before John had even cut the engine, the need to check on his brother overwhelming.

"Sam!" Dean called as he entered the pastor's home, "Sammy!"

Without stopping, he ran up the narrow staircase, taking two steps at a time and dashed down the short hallway to the bedroom where Sam lay sleeping, just as he had been when Dean and John had left.

"Sam," Dean reached out and shook his sibling's shoulder.

Sam blinked up at him tiredly.

"What's wrong? Is Dad okay?" Sam sat up, hair sleep-mussed, eyes barely open.

"Y-Yeah, Dad's fine," Dean muttered, "Are you okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Did you get him?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said and sat down beside him on the bed, "Yeah, Sammy. Randy can't hurt you or anyone else again."

SPN

"Sometimes when a person goes through a traumatic event," Jim spoke softly as he stirred sugar into his cup of coffee.

All three Winchesters sat with him at his kitchen table although it late at night, no one could sleep.

"They subconsciously form an energy, based on all their negative feelings that can, act for the individual."

"So, this 'other' Sam went out and helped kill Randy because Sammy couldn't do it himself?" Dean asked, hands wrapped around his own mug of coffee.

Jim raised a hand and tipped it from side to side, "In a sense, but these energies don't have a consciousness of their own. They don't think or feel on their own. It seems that Sam was so intent on revenge- whether he knew it consciously or not- that he sent out an energy just at the right time."

"Wow," Dean muttered and peered at his brother. Sam was sitting with his hands in his lap, having not touched the mug of hot chocolate Jim had made for him.

"The human mind is a very mysterious thing," Jim explained, "Even now, we've only begun to understand only a fraction of how it works."

"You're certain you don't remember anything?" John asked Sam, worried his youngest son would retain the memory of dispatching Randy.

The thirteen-year old shook his head, "I remember going to bed and then the next thing I knew, Dean was waking me up."

John nodded and reached out to squeeze his son's hand.

"We better get out of here," John told Jim, "We don't want to be around when Randy's family come around."

The pastor nodded, "It was good to see you all; if only the circumstances were better."

"Thank you for your help," John said and shook his friend's hand.

The boys stood, Dean with a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Thanks for everything," Dean said. Sam smiled up at Jim.

SPN

In short order the Winchesters were back on the road, putting Blue Earth, Minnesota in their rearview mirror.

"Hey Sammy, you okay? You're pretty quiet back there?" Dean asked, turning in the front passenger's seat to peer at his brother.

Sam looked up and smiled at his brother, "I'm fine."

"Good," Dean grinned back at his sibling, "That's good, Sammy."

As soon as Dean turned back around, Sam frowned. He'd been lying when he'd said he had no memory of killing Randy. He remembered everything but that wasn't what was bothering him, what troubled Sam was that he had liked it.

Author's Note:

Finally finished this very belated birthday story for my friend mandancie.

I try and not leave cliffhangers but I left like this story deserved it. I may, eventually write more about power of Sam's or I may not. I have so many other stories I need to work on.

Please leave a review if you enjoyed it.