Sam had lost Dean. They'd spilt up as the dark path had forked in two different directions, but now two hours had passed and he didn't know where he'd gone. Hallucifer walked beside him, singing 'The Teddy Bears Picnic' quietly as they moved forwards. Sam, as always, ignored him.

"If you go down to the woods today, you'll sure get a big surprise..." His voice changed to an ominous tone and he followed it with dancing around Sam like he was a kid under a sheet pretending to be a ghost. Sam stopped and sighed heavily, looking anywhere but at him. There was a low growl from somewhere else in the trees, Lucifer stopped and stood beside Sam again.

"Zoinks!" He jumped up, aiming for the Winchester to catch him like in Scooby-doo but Sam kept his eyes on the darkness around him and Lucifer fell to the floor. He pouted a looked up. "That was rude, Sammy." His eyes widened. "SAM LOOK OUT!"

Sam turned suddenly as a werewolf jumped out of the bushes, pouncing at him. He pushed violently against Sam's shoulders so he slammed against a nearby tree. Sam hit is head and saw stars, slumping down to the floor unconscious. The werewolf went in for the kill when there was the sound of gun fire, it howled in pain and fell to the ground. Smoke rising off it's skin from the silver burns. Dean lowered his gun. As he went over to Sam it took a moment to shoot the monster in the chest again for good measure. He bobbed down, touching his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy?" he saw he was out cold and groaned. "Aw come on! Like I can carry you, you, you... giant!" He swore and put his gun away. He took Sam's arm and fireman lifted him. He uttered a string of curse words as he took Sam weight and started back towards the car. The vulgar language continued the whole way there.

Also Sam could hear was a high pitched ringing in his ears and the low grumble of Dean's voice on the phone. He new he was back at the vomit orange walled motel he and Dean had been staying in, but he didn't remember how he'd got there. He remember the werewolf jumping up, but besides that... nada.

"I don't know Bobby, but it's been a day! He should have woken up by now." There was a pause as Bobby spoke on the other side of the phone. "and say what? He fell over? He's got claw marks on him." Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "He's fine, I checked. I've been thinking... maybe this has something to do with the wall Death put in his noggin coming down." Dean laughed sardonically. "Yeah, you and me both, Bobby. I'm going to kick his feathery butt into next Tuesday if I ever see him again." He sighed again. "One thing at a time, man."

Sam groaned and sat up, rubbing his forehead. He felt like he'd drunk too much everyday that week. Dean saw him and smiled. "Looks like he's up. I'll update you later, okay? Alright. See ya, Bobby." He hung up and went over to his brother.

"How you doin', Jack?"

"Huh?"

"You know... Jack and Jill?"

"Oh..." Sam took his hand away from his head which was slowly getting better. "Yeah, I'm okay, Jill. My head just stinging a little."

Dean made a face at the Jill comment, but admitted to himself he'd seen it coming so let it past. "No signs of Lucifer?"

Sam looked around the room, but he couldn't see the devil on his shoulder anywhere. "Not right now."

Dean grinned. "Awesome." He got two beers out of the fridge and gave him one. "Here."

Sam took it happily and sipped the cold alcohol. It numbed his head agreeably and he felt a pressure in his head easing. "How's Bobby doing?"

He was hardly surprised he'd heard and just nodded. "He's fine, currently on the search for our new God." He said that bitterly, with a twinge of something like sadness he was clearly trying to hide. Sam knew all this was taking its toll on his brother. There were only so many times he could lose Castiel. It was like travelling with a walking bomb, he was always afraid Dean was going to explode and do something he's regret.

"How's that going?"

Dean made a noncommittal gesture, and sat down on his own bed, facing him. "But you're really okay, right?"

Sam took a moment to check everything was in order, then nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm okay."

This is a story of a man named Sammy.

Sam froze. A dulcet voice of an upper class English man rung his ears. "The hell?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

Sammy worked with his brother Dean on the road, where he was a hunter.

"That! That voice!" Sam stood up, looking around.

Dean sighed, "Sammy, there's no voice."

Hunter Sammy's job was simple. He sat in the passenger seat of an Impala and he pulled the trigger of a gun.

Orders came to him through a monitor on his lap in the form of news reports, telling him what monsters to shoot.

This is what Hunter Sammy did everyday of every month of every year.

And although others might consider it soul destroying, Sammy relished every moment that the orders came in.

As though he had been made exactly for this job, and Sammy was happy.

"Well that's a load of crap." he muttered to himself.

And then one day something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change Sammy.

Something he would never quite forget.

Dean was staring at him in dismay. "Sam, what's going on?"

He had been in his bed for nearly a day, when he realized that he was hearing a voice. He was beginning to question what was real and what was a dream

Never in all these years in the business had this happened twice in one day. This complete... Insanity.

"Sammy?"

Something was very clearly wrong - shocked, frozen solid, Sammy found himself unable to speak for the longest time. But when his brother asked him what was happening, Sam decided to tell him the truth as he thought it was better Dean knew he had finally gone stark raving mad.

"Nothing. It's gone now, must have been an after affect." Sam lied smoothly, giving Dean a quick reassuring smile.

Dean didn't look convinced, but he took Sam's word for it. "Alright then. I'm going to take a shower, then how about we hit the road?"

"Sounds good." Sam nodded, gripping his beer a little tighter. Once Dean was out the room, the voice spoke again.

This was not the correct thing to tell his brother, and Sammy knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to give Dean one less thing to worry about.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Sam muttered to himself, hoping he was just dreaming.