Sam shakes as he picks up his cup and takes a drink. He still doesn't quite understand how he ended up here. On a purely logical level he understands, but it's a difficult thing to temper this utter despair with reason. He and Dean had spent nearly their entire lives staring death in the face, so really, Sam shouldn't be as scared as he is- but he is. The empty cup slips from Sam's fingers and he stares at it, watching the last few drops of water roll across the floor.

When they come to unlock his cell door, Sam doesn't fight, he doesn't speak. He walks as steadily as he can down the hall of the prison, watching his feet so he doesn't stumble over the chain between his legs. The guards are gentler with him than usual. Oddly enough, so are the other inmates- Sam doesn't hear a single word until he's sitting in the chair and a priest enters to read him his Last Rites.

Sam can't understand the words of the priest. They're familiar words, but all Sam can hear is his blood rushing through his head. It's so damn loud and he's so damn scared and he just wishes... If he could just have gotten a chance to say 'Goodbye'. He hasn't seen Dean since this whole madness started and that- that is the worst part.

Sam and Dean had been so careful about avoiding law enforcement- especially since St. Louis, but they hadn't ever met anyone like Phillip, and they hadn't stood a chance against him.

Sam was immune to Phillip's power, just like he'd been immune to Andy's and Ansem's, but Dean wasn't. When Sam's vision brought them to Phillip's last victim, they didn't know Phillip was still in the house. Phillip kept Dean frozen, locked in place and completely unresponsive, while he got away. Sam half-carried, half-dragged Dean out of the house and over to where they had hidden the Impala. Then he heard the sirens.

Sam was held responsible for all the murders Phillip had committed. The local authorities couldn't prove any but the last two. They had witnesses, they had testimony, they had Sam's DNA on the victim- Shelly, her name was Shelly. She couldn't have been older than fifteen. Sam had hoped- he'd thought maybe she wasn't dead- he just wanted to be sure.

Dean got away. Sam was sure Dean got away, because otherwise he would have heard something about his capture. They would have told him at the trial- his lawyer would have told him. Distantly, Sam still found the thought of him having been assigned a lawyer amusing. In another life, it could have been his job to defend someone accused of murdering twelve people in twelve days.

At the trial, Sam had told the truth- the absolute truth. He told them about his visions, how they'd led him and Dean to every one of Phillip's victims- they were just trying to help, they just wanted to find Phillip and stop him. Sam's lawyer told him it was far too late to plead insanity.

The priest finishes speaking, and snaps his Bible shut. Sam jerks at the sound, and looks up. The priest winks at him, there's a rumbling sound like distant thunder, and then all the lights go out.

Dean taps his thumb restlessly against the steering wheel. He's driving north on instinct alone. He has no idea if he's really heading towards Sam- he thinks he is, hopes he is. His gut still feels like it's full of lead, but at least he's doing something.

Three months. Dean had been out cold for three months. Phillip had whammied him hard. When Dean woke up, the first thing he saw was Bobby asleep in a chair in the corner of his hospital room.

Bobby's relief at seeing Dean awake was short-lived. He filled Dean in on everything that had happened- Sam's trial, his planned execution, and his entirely unexpected escape. He'd had a plan to get Sam out. Thanks to Deacon, they'd been able to get a warden into place at Arizona State Penitentiary nearly a week before the date of Sam's scheduled execution, but then something else had helped Sam escape. All the warden had said was, 'There was this flash, and then he was just gone.'

The sky above Dean is growing darker and darker the further north he drives.

When Sam can see again, he isn't in the prison anymore, but he is still restrained. Sam squints in the dim light and looks around. He's in a cave, and above him there are a few tiny cracks letting in slivers of light. ' It must still be daylight then...', Sam thinks. He's lying on stone, and his arms are down by his sides. At first, Sam thinks he still has cuffs on, but he can't see them- he can't even see his hands. He can see his forearms but not past them. He wiggles his fingers and realizes, with dawning horror, that his hands are trapped somewhere inside the rock slab itself.

There's a noise from nearby- the sound of wings beating. Sam strains to look towards the origin of the sound, but there isn't enough light to see. From somewhere in the shadows surrounding him, a man steps forward. Sam recognizes him as the priest from the prison.

The priest is wearing a cloak made out of feathers. He steps closer to Sam, looks down at him and says, "You're awake."

"Who are you?" Sam asks. He can feel a small split in the skin of his lower lip. The air in the cave is dry.

The priest smiles, "You don't know?" He leans over Sam, and lays three of his fingers on Sam's forehead.

Sam feels tired, he feels heavy- even his tongue feels heavy, but he forces himself to ask, "What are you?"

"Does it matter?" The priest asks. "What are you?"

Voices begin chanting from all around Sam. He can't see anyone else, but he can hear them. The language they're speaking is one he's never heard. Their words are oddly comforting to Sam and he feels a sense of peace come over him. He's so sleepy.

The priest raises a small knife up towards Sam's throat and begins cutting slowly, carefully, through the fabric of Sam's shirt.

Sam thinks he should be terrified, but he isn't.

The chanting cuts off abruptly. The priest turns away from Sam, towards the shadows and nods. There's an oddly loud, ruffling noise, and then the stone above Sam cracks open wide. Daylight pours into the cave and Sam blinks as his eyes adjust. The entire cave is filled with the deafening sound of dozens of massive wings beating. All around Sam, enormous birds take flight and leave through the gaping opening above him.

Outside, a storm has come. Dark clouds have blocked the sunlight, and Sam feels cool drops on his forehead, as rain starts to fall.

The priest looks back at Sam and blinks. Outside, the entire sky fills with lightning. "You have a brother."

Sam nods, "Dean. My brother's name is Dean."

"Your brother is looking for you. He has found our mountain." The priest brings his hands to the front of his cloak and pulls it closed around his neck. The feathers of the cloak thicken and spread slowly up the priest's neck. "If he tries to force his way into our home, the mountain will fight back. Your brother will fall, and die."

Sam swallows down the panic as much as he can and says, "Can you- can you let me go? Can I go to him?"

The priest tilts his head to the side as feathers flow up and over the top of his head. His eyes are large white discs. His face elongates and a large beak forms where his mouth and nose had been. When he spreads his wings they stretch far- further than Sam can see.

Lightning crashes over and over, and the cave seems to tremble with the thunder. Sam is blinded by it. He calls out, "Please, don't hurt my brother! Let me go!" but he can't even hear himself over the storm.

When Sam can see again, he's looking up at a massive expanse of cloudy sky. He's outside, lying on what feels like sand. Sam blinks and when he opens his eyes again Dean is staring down at him. "Dean?" Sam says, and sits up slowly.

"Sammy. I thought you were-" Dean swallows and pulls Sam into a rib-crushing hug. He lets go after a few seconds, leans back on his heels and says, "Dude. What the hell?"

Sam stares at Dean, "Huh?"

"Birds? Seriously? How the hell did you get thunderbirds to bust you out of jail?"

Sam laughs at Dean's exasperation and shakes his head, "I- I have no idea."

Above them, the clouds have parted.