For a moment, John was afriad that he'd imagined the voice, that he'd been hit harder than he thought and that he was hallucinating.

Then Rory spoke again. "How-how did you know…?"

"Amy. I've met your wife, Amy."

"Amy! How is she? Is she okay? Did…" Rory's voice trailed off, then he muttered, "No. No, this is exactly the sort of trick he'd play on me." He went silent.

"No. No, no, no, I'm not a trick or a figment of your imagination or anything like that! Rory, I'm real! I've been helping Amy try to find you." John bit his thumbnail, then said, "I'm John Watson. I work with Sherlock Holmes." He hated playing that card, but maybe it would help Rory trust him.

He heard a rustle of clothing, but no answer. "Rory? Rory, how long have you been here?"

Rory answered hesitantly. "I-I'm not sure. Five or six days, I think."

"Have they given you anything?"

"Food, water. And before you ask, no, I haven't really seen them. They keep it pretty dark even when they're in here. I think…now, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I think they can see in the dark."

Shifters. "No, that doesn't sound weird to me at all, Rory. I've met the Doctor, I know you and Amy and he've seen all sorts of strange things." John huffed a short laugh. "B-believe me, over the past few days I've seen some pretty strange things myself."

"Okay, so-what was that?"

John frowned and tipped his head to the side, listening. Then he heard what Rory had heard-a low groan. It sounded further away from him than Rory did.

"Dean?" he shouted. "D-Dean, is that you?"

"Jumped twice," Dean replied shortly, still sounding pained. "Twice in one damn job. Must be time to retire."

"Are you okay?"

"Besides the fact that my head feels like someone broke a beer bottle over it?"

John guessed Dean didn't have to imagine how that felt. Despite himself, he smiled a little. "Rory, may I introduce you to Dean Winchester. He's been helping Sherlock and me."

"Uh, hullo, I guess," Rory said.

"Rory? Wait, as in Rory Williams? Amy's missing husband?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Dean swore, and fencing rattled like he'd bumped into it. "Awesome."

"Well, you can call it that if you like," Mycroft's voice came from the shadows. "Though personally, in your shoes, I'd find it a little less than awesome."

"Mycroft!" John swung around to where he thought the voice was coming from.

"Mm, sort of. Close enough for now." Mycroft chuckled. "I do so like this one's mind. He's quite strong. Put up a good fight when I first entered. Nothing like that stupid, airheaded assistant of his."

"Althea? I wouldn't exactly call her airheaded, I mean she is Mycroft's assistant," John answered calmly.

"And I think Mycroft's reply to something like that would be 'anyone is airheaded next to me'. Did I guess it right?"

"Sounds more like Sherlock."

"Oh yes, Sherlock." The Shadow chuckled again. "I would so like to sample his mind and see how it compares. Ah, well. Perhaps there will be time for that after I've scured Sam Winchester."

"Hey, limey," Dean broke in, his voice tense. "Did you just come for a social chat, or do you actually have somehting to say?"

Footsteps. "I'm sure you have enough to say for the both of us, Dean."

"Damn straight."

"Well, let me make it more comfortable in here, shall I?"

Lights flipped on. john flinched, squinted. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the metal walls and high rafters of some kind of warehouse space. At the far end, he could see a black car. Several creatures-at this distance John couldn't tell if they were humans, shifters, vampires, or some new monster the Shadow had dragged out of the woodwork-stood near the car.

Three cages sat to his left, each spaced about five feet apart. The farthest one away was empty, but Rory and Dean were in the next two. Rory had backed up to the back of his cage, but Dean stood right at the door, fists clenched and murder in his eyes.

About ten feet away from Dean's case, Mycroft's body stood at a large, closed bay door, his hand on a light switch. Two shifters flanked him.

The Shadow smiled at Dean. "Damn, straight? Well." He gestured to the shifters. "Bring him out."

As soon as the door unlocked, Dean burst forward. He smashed his fist into the first shifter's face. The creature staggered back, nose crushed flat against its face. The other shifter locked its arms around Dean. The two flailed back and forth as the first shifter casually popped his nose back into place, then clocked Dean over the back of the head.

Dean staggered forward, hand going to his head. The shifters grabbed his arms and pinned him down on his knees. One of them grabbed Dean's hair, jerking his head up so the Shadow could meet his eyes.

The Shadow smiled Mycroft's thin, twisted smile. "You had something to say to me, Dean?"

"If you touch Sammy, I'll rip out your throat, you son of-" Dean broke off with a grunt. He gritted his teeth, shook his head from side to side like he was trying to shake off a hangover.

The Shadow took another step toward him. "Yes, Dean?"

Dean snarled.

"Dean?" John pressed against the fencing at the front of his cage, trying to get a good look at Dean's face. "Dean!"

"Get out of my head!" Dean yelled, trying to jerk back away from the Shadow. The two shifters held him steady.

"Oh, Dean Winchester. You have so many secrets. So many delightful little secrets." Mycroft leaned forward and whispered something to Dean.

Dean stiffened, and John could see that the Shadow's words had cut him deep-deeper than physical pain. The look in Dean's eyes reminded John of the face he'd seen in the mirror every day during those two long years when he thought Sherlock had been dead.

Mycroft straightened. "Always a delight talking to you, Dean." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. "Let's say hello to your brother, shall we?"

###

Sam answered the phone with trembling fingers. "Hello?"

"Hey Sam," Dean said in a rough voice.

"Dean!" Sam blew out a deep breath. "Dude, what's going on?"

"He's here, Sam. The Shadow. He's right here."

Sam went still, and a cold dread crept through his chest.

"Sa, listen to me. Forget me. Don't sacrifice yourself for me. Just run. Run as far away as you can and forget-"

Dean's voice disappeared, and a smooth, British voice that sounded eeriely similar to Sherlock's took his place. "Sam Winchester, I presume?"

Sam glanced at Ash and pointed at the phone. "Trace it?" he mouthed.

Ash shook his head, raised his laptop and pointed at the screen. "Already got it," he answered.

Sam nodded and moved closer to squint at the laptop screen.

"Sam. I know it's you. Speak up, please, unless you want your brother to suffer."

"Leave him alone," Sam answered through gritted teeth. He clicked the computer mouse pad and zoomed in on the coordinates Ash had gotten.

"Ah, so you can speak!" The Shadow chuckled, then said softly, "You should know what I want by now."

"You've made that pretty clear." The coordinates were an abandoned warehouse outside of Negaunee, Michigan. Figures. Right back where they'd started.

"Vey good. And by now that squirrely little computer genius of yours should have found where I am. So here's the way we're going to work, Sammy. I have three very important people in my possession. I think you know who I mean. In exchange for their sfaety, all you have to do is show up here. Alone. No Sherlock, no Doctor, none of your precious little hunter friends. In exchnage for you, Sam Winchester, I will allow your brother Dean, Rory Williams, and John Watson to go free. Doesn't seem like a bad exhange, does it, Sammy?"

Sam glanced up, saw the Doctor, and looked away quickly before the Timelord could guess what he was thinking. "I dunno, sounds like I get a pretty short stick."

"Oh, but Sam, imagine what we could do together. Your power and mine, working in harmony. Because you feel that, don't you, Sam? That hunger, that longing? You don't know how to ignite your power just yet, but I can show you."

Sam clenched his hand around the phone, forced his mind away from the moment just a while before, when he'd flung the shifter against the wall. "No."

The Shadow's voice went flat. "You're lying."

"Maybe. What does it matter to you?"

"Tonight, Sam. Be here by eight o'clock tonight, or your brother's life will end."

The phone went dead.

Sam dropped his phone into his pocket, keeping his jaw clenched.

The Doctor pounced first. "Who was that? The Shadow? What did he say?"

Sam shrugged him away and headed toward the storeroom where he knew Ellen and Jo kept extra weapons and hunting supplies. "None of your bnusiness, Doctor."

Ellen stepped in front of him, her jaw set. "You'd best be tellin' us what's goin' on, Sam Winchester."

Sam stopped. His chest felt like it was ready to burst, rolling with a tangle of emotions that he couldn't unpack and didn't really want to. Fear, anger at the unfairness of it all, that he was the one with these powers, that he and his brother were the ones to suffer for it.

"I have to do this alone, Ellen."

"Just like a Winchester," Jo snapped.

Amy stepped up to Sam's side and grabbed his arm. "Wherever you're going, I'm coming with you. The Shadow has Rory." She tried to step in to give him a hug, but Sam caught her shoulders and gently pushed her back.

"You can't, Amy. Don't you get it? This is on me. This is between me and the Shadow because of my powers. I can't have anyone else getting hurt because of this."

"The Shadow picked a fight with all of us," Sherlock said.

Sam glanced around the friends circling him. Friends. For the first time in a long time, for this week, he hadn't felt alone. He hadn't felt like it was just him and his brother. Somehow, despite all of Dean's grumbling, these people had wormed their way into the Winchesters' hearts. Sam knew Dean would feel the same way as he would. But…

River crossed her arms and stared at him, and he could see the resolve in her eyes, the stubborn spark that Dean so often go. "Try as you might, Sam, you're not going at this alone. We're coming, whether you want it or not."

Sam looked again at everyone, and this time he saw it differently. They wanted to help. They cared enough to not let him walk off and try it on his own. They cared enough to risk their lives as much as he was risking his.

And for once, it felt nice not to be alone.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. You guys can come. Thank you."