Sam's voice shook just the tiniest bit as he sat on the couch, holding Bobby's coffee mug in a death grip.

"Sh-she gave me something, I think. I think it was in the punch maybe. She brought us both punch after I said I w-wouldn't leave the dance with her." Sam glanced up at Bobby to see how the older man was taking his words.

But Sam saw no judgment there, just concern. And he smiled, releasing a pent-up breath. He was afraid of how Bobby and Dean would treat him after they found out everything that had … had gone down - how easily she had drugged him and how he'd simply followed her to his doom like a little lap dog.

Sam's face flushed pink just thinking about it.

Dean saw and suffered with him. He placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder and smiled that special smile that was reserved for Sam alone. "'S'okay Sammy. Just … just take your time, okay? We got all night."

Sam looked up, desperate. "I thought I loved her, Dean!" He whispered. "I thought … thought … I mean … yeah, she was mixed up, but I thought maybe I could …"

"What, Sammy? Save her?"

Sam shrugged miserably. "I don't know. She was just so … damaged … I guess. I hated that she was so … that someone had hurt her … " He sighed. "I'm all mixed up." His hands holding the mug trembled as he lifted it to his lips in a desperate bid to calm his nerves.

Bobby sympathized with the poor kid. He sat silently studying him, his anger growing at the woman who'd left him so broken.

Sam whispered, "That … the first time it … it happened. I just … it caught me off guard, you know? She shoved me into the janitor's closet and school and started kissing me and her hands were … everywhere." Sam blushed again. "And I mean, it felt good, Dean!" He met his brother's eyes. "I didn't … want it to stop. Didn't want her to stop. I'd never …"

Dean nodded, swallowing hard.

"But then she bit me. She bit my lip so hard she drew blood and it just seemed to … you know … excite her. And then she was pinching me hard all over, and she sucked bruises on my neck, and I just wanted to scream, it hurt so bad." Sam buried his face in one hand, hiding his eyes. "Why did I let her do that? I shoulda' just stopped it right there. But … but she was so pretty and she smelled so … so good … and … and …"

Dean wasn't smiling now. In fact, it was all he could do to keep from shedding a few tears himself. "And what, Sammy?" He asked quietly, trying to help Sam move forward.

Sam looked up, his face wet. "She liked ME, you know? I mean, she coulda' had anybody, but she liked ME." Sam's throat was working but nothing was coming out. He dropped his head in shame.

Bobby and Dean exchanged worried glances over the kid's head. "Sam," Dean started. "You gotta stop beatin' yourself up, man. You didn't do anything wrong."

But Sam shook his head. "I did, Dean. I did do something wrong. I did … it's my … I mean … It's all my fault." He looked up again at Dean, pleading. "And then you were there, and you got dragged into it, and I never meant for you to get dragged in, Dean. I swear! I'd give anything If I could … could go back and do things over again … not follow her like a … like a dog … like I didn't have a mind of my own. I never wanted you to have to see me like that, to have to deal with that."

Dean's eyes welled, "Sammy …" He started, but his voice broke.

Sam met his eyes. "You can say I was drugged, Dean, but I knew what I was doing. At least, some of it. I knew. I knew we were leaving the dance. And I knew she wanted us to be alone, and I remember … remember standing on the sidewalk and just ripping my own shirt open. I did that. She didn't. I … it was just so hot. I was so h-hot."

"That was the drug, boy." Bobby tried to help.

But Sam shook his head. "She promised me." He whispered.

Dean didn't quite catch that. "What?" he asked.

Sam cleared his throat. "She … uh … she promised me. She knew it was our last date, and she wanted to … show me the right … you know. The right way." Sam's face was crimson. "She said she knew she was my … my first … and she was worried that she'd damaged me or something."

Dean said nothing, just rubbed comforting circles on his brother's back. But when Sam looked up again, he had devastation in his eyes. "I wanted it, Dean. I did. She made it sound so good. Like she would make me feel so good. I just … I wanted it. It's all my fault this happened. I knew. I knew and I wasn't strong enough. I wanted what I wanted."

Dean was growing angry. "No, Sam. You wanted what she was sellin' you. You wanted to feel good. No way in hell you wanted what she actually did."

But Sam was silent.

Dean jostled him. "Did you? Did you want to be tied down and have your sight and your hearing taken away and be … be tortured? Did you want that, Sam? Of course you didn't. That was all her. None of that was you, man."

"But I let it happen. You told me not to be alone with her, and I was determined I wouldn't. I swear I was. But then it was so hot, and the air outside was so cool, and she was telling me how good it was all going to feel."

"Right, Sam. That was the drugs she gave you."

Sam didn't reply. He just took another long sip of his coffee to help settle his nerves. He sat staring at the floor. "I'm not … I don't think I can talk about … after."

"After you got to the party?" Dean clarified.

Sam nodded. "I need a tissue." He looked around, searching.

Bobby stood up and moved over to the desk, grabbing the box. "Here." He said, handing it to Sam."

Dean hated this. He hated it. But he knew it was something his brother had to go through. Through it was the only way around it, and if Sam didn't come to terms with his fear, with his helplessness, he was only going to feel worse and worse.

"You can do this, Sammy. You CAN." Dean said comfortingly. "And I wish you didn't have to, man. I really do. But if you don't, it's just gonna keep eating away at you until there's nothing left."

Sam sat still and silent, his hands shaking, his mug empty in his grasp. Bobby saw.

"Here, Sam. Let me top you off." the old hunter said, slipping Sam's mug out of his nerveless fingers and moving to the kitchen. He returned just a moment later with another steaming cup of light-brown coffee, just the way Sam liked it.

Sam took and smiled, taking another long drawl. He leaned forward, holding the cup in both hands between his knees and began to speak. He kept his head down, eyes focused on the floor, as he opened up about what had happened the night of the party.

"When we … we got there, she took us in the back door - through the kitchen. People saw us, but no one said anything. I guess they thought if we knew where the back door was, we must belong there, you know?"

Dean nodded.

She led me downstairs to the … to that … place. There wasn't anybody there, but it was nice. It was … comfortable. There was a mat over in the corner, and we … we … sat down on it." Sam paused.

Dean met Bobby's eyes as they waiting for Sam to continue.

"I … I kissed her. I … it was me that st-started it. We were just kissing, you know, and I didn't know other people were gonna come around, but then, all of a sudden, we were laying down on the mat, and she … she …" Sam's voice hitched.

Dean upped the back rub - just soft little circles back and forth over Sam's shoulder blades to remind him that he wasn't alone.

Sam cleared his throat and continued. "She … um … she took my wrist and strapped it down, and I just went crazy, you know?"

Dean frowned, wondering if Sam had fought, how things had gotten as bad as they turned out.

"I f-fought her. I did. But there was this guy, and she … she had him sit on my arm. He was … he was huge, and he just planted his knee right on my forearm, and I couldn't move, Dean. I swear I couldn't! I tried! He was just so big!" Sam's hands shook so bad, his coffee sloshed over the top of the cup and dripped onto Bobby's new carpet, but none of the hunters noticed.

"And she strapped that wrist down then, and then I was … I knew I was in trouble then. She started talking about how I'd ratted her out to the guidance counselor and how her mom was sending her away and about how terrified she was. She said she'd done this stuff lots of times before with … with other guys, but they'd never, never ratted her out like me."

Dean tried to process everything that Sam was telling him, but he'd gotten stuck on the fact that Ronnie'd had an accomplice - a huge accomplice. And suddenly Dean remembered the man who Joey had sent to fetch him.

"She went and got the … that mask … and it was horrible. I … it was the awfulest thing I think I've ever seen, and then she … she was trying to put it on me, and I was freaking out! Sh-she said once it was on I wouldn't be able to see or hear or speak. S-said they could do whatever they wanted to me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"They?" Dean's heart suddenly dropped several hundred feet to shatter on the ground below.

Sam hitched. He set his coffee down carefully on the end table and leaned forward, burying his face in his knees.

Dean's stricken face met Bobby's, both suddenly understanding with sad certainty that neither wanted to hear what was coming.

"Sammy …" Dean breathed, horrified.

And Sam heard his disgust. He raised his head and looked at his brother, eyes pleading. "I tried, Dean! I swear to God, I tried! I … there was nothing I could do. He … he held me down so she could put the mask on me and then I … I couldn't breathe, and I was sure I was gonna die. And he was … grinning, Dean. The guy … It was the last thing I saw. He thought she was playing. He thought … thought I was acting. She told me that he thought it was a scene, and that I wanted it."

"Sammy. What happened?" Dean's voice was curt. He needed to know how far it had gone, how badly Sam had been hurt before Dean got to him, how …. What that bastard had done to his little brother. "What'd he do, Sammy? You tell me." Dean whispered.

Sam shook his head. "He didn't. Not what you're thinking, Dean. Just … he held me down. He helped her … helped her subdue me. He … he went away pretty quickly. I think he finally caught on that what she was doing …"

Sam took a stuttering breath. "Anyway … that's … I mean, she shocked me after that. And then you were there and I felt you write your name on my hand and … Dean, I was never so … I thought I was dying. Thought I was cut open and bleeding out and you were, you were seeing it all. And all I could think about was how I'd wanted this and now you were the one who'd have to deal with the … the mess. I didn't want you to have to deal with my mess, Dean."

Dean looked at Bobby. The old hunter's face was grayer than Dean had ever seen it, and he suspected his own color wasn't all that great in the moment. Swallowing back the bile that threatened to erupt all over Bobby's new floor, Dean forced a smile in its place. He scooted down off the arm of the couch to sit beside his brother, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"You did good, Sam. You talked about it, right? I knew you could do it, you big geek."

Sam swiped at his face, trying to smile. He gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."

"No guessing. You sucked it up, and you went back there, Sam. You did what needed to be done. Me and Bobby, we know how hard that was, but you didn't fink out, little brother."

Bobby added his own smile to the pot. Placing a grizzled hand over Sam's, he said, "You did good, kid. We're proud of you."

Sam laughed again - a sad, desperate sound. "I don't know …"

"What?" Dean jostled him when he stopped abruptly.

"I don't know if it'll help any with … the fear."

"It will, Sam." Bobby assured him. "You got textbook PTSD. It's gonna take a little time is all. Time and talk. That's what the doctor would order."

"You wanna go, Sammy? To a doc, I mean? There's no … no shame in it." Dean reassured him.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "I just wanna feel like me again." He shuddered. "I just wanna know that she's gone, and she's never coming back."

"She's gone, Sam." Bobby reassured him. "Deacon and Jody both got eyes inside that place they put her. She's hurt two people already. One more strike and it's prison."

Sam looked up, haunted. "What … what did she do?"

Bobby shrugged, "Same kinda crap she pulled on you. Hurting people and calling it play. It ain't play, Sam. Some of the nicest people I know are into that life, and not one of 'em would ever hurt a fly. She was the exception, not the rule."

Sam stared, "She wanted a slave."

"What?" Dean didn't think he'd heard right.

"A slave. She called me her little slave."

Bobby sat back, shaking his head. "It don't work that way. Wherever she got her ideas … well … she was wrong, Sam. Just know that."

"Hey, Bobby?" Sam asked, looking innocent.

"What, Sam?"

"How come you know so much about it, anyway?"

Bobby's eyes widened, "Uh … well … Sam … I …"

And Dean snorted, clapping his little brother on the back. "Don't go there, Sammy. Just don't go there, man."

And then both boys were laughing, feeling a little bad because it was at Bobby's expense. But then Bobby himself joined in, and that made it okay.

That made it all okay.