Thank you so much Jenjoremy for working your magnificent magic on this for me. Thank you also Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for helping me hammer the ideas out.

Chapter One

"My body cannot hurt you, Dorothy," Sam intoned.

"But theirs can." Dean could feel the influence of the witch, making his jaw work without his direction and the words pass from his lips, but he couldn't stop it. He was like a puppet with someone else working the strings as his hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out the demon knife.

Sam grabbed Dorothy and pinned her in front of him as Dean brought the tip of the knife to her throat. In his mind he shouted, "Dorothy, run! She'll kill you!" but no words came from him. He slowly pressed down with the knife, then, as fast as it had come, the feeling passed and he was stepping back, panting hard.

Dorothy swiped a hand over her nose and glanced at the blood coating her palm.

"Damn, are you okay?" Dean asked.

"Just fine, thanks to Charlie."

Dean's eyes widened. "Charlie!"

He pulled his gun and ran out of the garage and through the bunker into the library. He could see Sam at his side and hear Dorothy behind them, but he didn't speak to either of them; his thoughts were consumed with Charlie. If she was hurt again… If she was… She was just a kid with no business being around them and the danger they were shrouded in, let alone hunting. She had saved his life once already today, something she should never have been in a position to do. She had to be okay.

As he sprinted into the war room, he called her name, and she appeared at the balcony, a red heel in her hand and a wide, satisfied smile on her face. "Ding dong, bitches."

Dean sighed with relief and turned to Sam to share a smile. He expected to see happiness, relief, maybe some of the same frustration he himself felt that Charlie had been forced to make the kill, but Sam looked oddly vague, as if he wasn't all the way there. As if he wasn't himself.

Charlie came clattering down the stairs and into Dorothy's open arms, chattering a mile to a minute about how she had killed the witch. Dorothy was expounding her thanks and Charlie was beaming at her. Dean glanced back to Sam and was annoyed to see it wasn't Sam's awareness in the eyes. It was Ezekiel's. The angel needed to disappear before Charlie realized something was wrong.

"So," Charlie asked, bouncing up to Dean and grinning. "Not bad for a newbie, right?"

"You were awesome," Dean said, internally willing Sam to step up and say something. "Really. Saved our asses, right, Sammy?"

"Yes," came the dutiful reply. Dean closed his eyes a moment, cursing the stilted quality to Sam's voice as he was controlled by the angel. "Dean, I need to talk to you."

Charlie frowned. "Are you okay, Sam? Did she hurt you?"

"Yes," Ezekiel said. "I need Dean to check something."

"I can help," Charlie offered. "I got myself emergency aid certified before I went hunting—thought it would be helpful."

"No, thank you," Ezekiel said stiffly, walking away.

"We'll be right back," Dean said hurriedly. "You two grab the beers."

He hurried after Ezekiel up the steps and through the side corridor to the bedrooms area. When they were out of earshot, Ezekiel turned and said, "We have a problem."

"Yeah we do," Dean said angrily. "Why are you still here? I appreciate the help and all, but now would be a good time for you to give me my brother back."

"I cannot give him back," Ezekiel said.

Dean scowled. "Of course you can. You just duck back inside, get to work fixing him up, and let Sam talk. I've already got a helluva lot of explaining to do to Charlie and Dorothy. You're going to need to do something for Sam, too, maybe go lie down so we can say he was knocked out or something. He can't just wake up here with the witch dead when last thing he'll remember is being possessed by her."

"I cannot do that," Ezekiel said.

"Why the hell not?" Dean growled. "Go already! Give me my damn brother back!"

Looking pinched and annoyed, Ezekiel said, "Very well, but remember you asked for this." His eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor like a marionette whose strings were cut. Dean was frozen in place, unable to do a thing to ease his brother's descent to the floor. Sam landed hard, his head making a sickening thunk on the hard floor. The sound broke Dean's inertia. "Sam!" He dropped to his knees beside him and patted his cheek hard. "Sammy! Come on, man, wake up, now. Sam?"

Sam's head rolled against Dean's palm but that was the only movement. He was otherwise almost perfectly still. Dean pressed hand to his throat, his fingers finding Sam's pulse point. He breathed out shakily when he felt the thrum of life there. His hand fell on Sam's chest and he watched as it rose and fell in time with Sam's breaths.

"Wake up!" he said in his most commanding voice.

"Dean, we couldn't find the beer. Did we already… Sam!" Charlie appeared in Dean's line of sight, her face pale and worried. "What's going on?" she asked.

Dean didn't answer, as he had no answer to give. He didn't know what was going. He just knew his brother was unconscious.

"Dammit," he whispered. The whole situation was out of control and his worry for Sam was paramount. He grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him. "Sammy!"

"Dean, don't!" Charlie said harshly. "You could make it worse." She knelt on Sam's other side and checked Sam's pulse, nodding to herself. She pulled back his eyelid and a flicker of fear crossed her face before she schooled it into neutrality again. Dean had seen it too, though. His pupil was blown.

"Did he have a head injury?" she asked, her voice tempered by worry.

"No…I mean, yeah…I mean, he hit his head when he dropped. But he was okay before that."

"He said he was hurt," Dorothy said, hovering behind Charlie.

"Yeah, that was…" Dean blew out a breath. "That was something different."

"He needs a doctor," Dorothy said.

"No!" Dean said harshly. "We can't take him to a hospital."

"Why not?" she asked.

"We can't move him," Dean said, grappling for an excuse. "And we can't have them come here."

"I know the Men of Letters valued this as a secret base, but your brother appears to be seriously injured," Dorothy said, sounding a little shocked.

Dean huffed a laugh. He didn't care about secrets. If he thought it would help Sam, he'd carry him to a hospital, but that would mean scans and x-rays, and they would see the sheer amount of damage to Sam's body that Ezekiel was healing up.

Charlie looked up into Dean's eyes and said, "Dean, you need to talk to me. I can help, but only if you're honest with me. What are you hiding?"

Dean knew it was over. As he looked down at his brother's lax face, he realized it was time to come clean. He couldn't carry the secret alone anymore.

He sat back on his haunches and said loudly and firmly, "Zeke! Come back, please."

Sam's eyes opened and light flashed in them before they returned to Sam's unique color. For a moment, Dean hoped it was Sam he could see in them, but then he spoke and Dean's hopes were dashed. "I told you, Dean."

He got smoothly to his feet, leaving Dean and Charlie kneeling, and rubbed a hand over the back of his head. Dean and Charlie scrambled up and Charlie pointed a shaking finger at Ezekiel. "Who the hell is that? That's not Sam."

"That's… Zeke," Dean said reluctantly.

"Ezekiel," he corrected. "Nice to meet you, Charlie Bradbury."

Charlie just gaped at him for a moment before getting herself under control again and saying, "If that's not Sam, why does it look like him? Are you a shapeshifter?"

"No," Ezekiel said, sounding disapproving. "I am an Angel of the Lord."

Charlie turned her furious gaze on Dean. "What the frick is happening now?" Her fury faltered to fear. "Is that… Lucifer?"

"Lucifer!" Dorothy gasped.

"No!" Dean and Ezekiel answered at the same time, and then Dean went on. "I swear, Charlie, it's not him."

Charlie looked only slightly relieved. "Then what is he doing in Sam?" she asked

"Saving his life," Ezekiel said mildly.

"What's wrong with him?" Charlie asked worriedly.

"Massive internal injuries, burned vital organs, almost complete brain death," Ezekiel listed dispassionately.

Charlie paled further and Dorothy took her hand and squeezed it. "What happened to him?" Charlie asked.

"I'll tell you later," Dean said briskly, turning to Ezekiel. "What's wrong with him now? Why did he collapse? That wasn't like anything what happened when you cured Cas or Charlie. Why didn't he wake up again? Why did he look…?" Like he was dying. Dean thought it but didn't dare vocalize the question.

"Because that was Sam without my influence," Ezekiel said.

"You telling me I've spent the last month talking with you and not Sam?" Dean asked angrily. "No, I don't believe it. I know my brother and I know the difference."

"No," Ezekiel said. "When I have withdrawn before, it has always been Sam in control."

"Then why isn't he in control now?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know." Ezekiel sighed. "When the witch possessed us, both Sam and I were pushed down by her influence. I could see and feel what was happening, but I couldn't control it. When the influence disappeared, when your friend killed the witch, I felt for Sam to check on his wellbeing." He looked strained. "I couldn't find him."

"What?" Dean said, his voice rising to a shout. "What do you mean 'find him'? Isn't he just… there?"

"Ordinarily, yes. He is always ready to return to the forefront, but I have not been able to locate him this time. He's just… absent."

"Well, look harder!" Dean shouted. "You have to find him!"

Ezekiel looked impatient. "Do you think I do not know that?"

"Then do it!" Charlie commanded. "I'm sure you're a nice enough angel, but we need Sam, not you."

"Very well," Ezekiel said. "Would you like to start immediately, or shall we take Sam somewhere more comfortable while I search? I don't want to heal another fractured skull in addition to his other injuries."

"Fractured skull!" Charlie winced. Dorothy squeezed her hand again.

Ezekiel didn't waste any more time with words. He just turned away and walked to Sam's bedroom. The bed was still wrinkled from where they'd sat watching Game of Thrones. There was a half-empty popcorn bowl on the chair and beer bottles on the floor. It was like a moment suspended in time, as if the room was waiting for them to come back to enjoy themselves again. Them: Dean, Charlie and Sam, not Ezekiel.

Ezekiel perched on the edge of the bed and said, "I will return as soon as I can," before closing his eyes.

Sam collapsed back, his eyes closed and his expression as lax as it had been before. Dean hurried over to him and brought his legs up to the bed, adjusting him so he looked more comfortable, even though Dean knew he was beyond discomfort.

"He's going to be a while, right?" Charlie asked.

"Maybe," Dean said. He hoped not. He wanted his brother back already.

"Then we have time for you to tell me what the frick is going on!" Charlie said.

Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Sam. His eyes moved over his brother for a moment before Charlie came to sit beside him. She laid a hand on his leg and Dean started to tell the tale.

"You remember when you saw Sam last time?"

"When he was sick you mean?" she asked.

"Yeah. The trials. Well, he got worse after you saw him. By the end…" He sucked in a breath as he remembered. "He was dying, Charlie. The last trial was supposed to kill him, so I stopped him doing it. He was still so sick though, and I was so scared. I drove him to the hospital, sure he was going to die right beside me any minute. I was planning in my mind what to do even as I was driving as fast as I could to save him. Then, when we got to the hospital, the doctors told me he was dying. There was nothing they could do for him. Like Zeke said, there were these internal burns and his brain was… He was going at any moment, so I prayed. I sent up an all angels prayer and Zeke came. He said he could help, but some shit went down, and by the time I got back to them, Sam was slipping away. Zeke said there was only one way to save him, and that was if he possessed him—worked on healing him from within."

"Sam let another angel in?" she said sounding stunned. "But… if he was that sick, how did he say yes?"

"I tricked him. Zeke kinda mind merged me with Sam, and I saw him. He was almost gone, Charlie. Death was there, and Sam was about to go into the light. I begged him, stopped him, and then, when he said yes, Zeke took over and possessed him."

"Wow," she breathed. "He must have been so pissed."

Dean looked away, fixing his eyes on Sam.

"He doesn't know," Dorothy said perceptively.

"No," Dean admitted. "I've been lying to him for weeks. He doesn't have a clue Zeke's in there."

Charlie pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Dean…"

"I had no choice!" Dean said angrily. "What would you have done?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know."

Dean turned his wrecked gaze on her and remembered a woman in a hospital bed for years, sustained by machines and doctors long past her time. He knew Charlie would have done the same thing as him if she'd had the option.

At that moment, Sam's eyes opened and Dean felt a thrill of hope. "Sammy?"

"No," Ezekiel said.

"Where is he?" Dean asked.

Ezekiel sat up and looked at Dean with something like sympathy. "I don't know, Dean. I cannot find him."

"He's really gone?" Charlie asked tremulously.

"Yes," Ezekiel said. "Wherever he is, I cannot reach him. Sam is lost."

So… A bit of a diversion from the Brotherhood verse, right? It was hard to get into a new world after spending so long in that one, but I hope this one doesn't disappoint.

Anyone got any theories on where Sam might be?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx