-Takes place before anyone knew Sam was soulless.-

Word Count: 3954

To Dean, Sam will always be his little Sammy, his baby brother. It didn't matter how much taller he got, how much more mature he became, or how he could turn from gentle giant to ruthless killer almost instantly. Sam will always be Sammy to Dean. He will always be that little kid who rather spend his day at the library studying and reading than at parties. Sam would get angered at his brother's nicknames for him as well. Nerd, bookworm, loser. But he knew Dean never truly meant it, which is what helped him put up with all of the vocal torture he received. He will continue to be Dean's last ray of light, the only person that could bring him any familiarity and family. There was a sort of comfort that Dean sought out when he was with his brother, a peace of mind knowing that the pair was together. Through the constant disagreements, arguments that lead to fights, which lead to falling outs and solidarity, Dean would love his brother no less. It did not matter to Dean if Sam absolutely despised him, who wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off his freckled face. Dean knew they would get through that barricade, it was a mere bump in the road they traveled down together.

Any therapist might tell them that this extremely unhealthy codependency they had with one another needed to stop, cold turkey. Their need for each other was almost heartbreaking to watch, as they seemed to have some sort of brother locator implanted in their brains. To go and meet new people, form relationships with them, to get out in the world, would also be another piece of advice said therapist may give them. Sam would have the most unsure and doubtful look on his face, keeping silent and quietly judging the shrink and his views on him and his brother. Dean would retort back instantly with a snappy comment about how some overly paid douchebag knew nothing about their lives and would conclude that they needed mental help. Even the two brothers hardly realize such a strong habit to reach out to one another formed, but that was another problem.

Even through all the lies, the self inflicted pain, the distraught brought onto these boys, nothing could break their bond. To Dean, Sam will always be his baby brother in need of protection and love that sometimes seemed too far out of his reach. To Sam, Dean will always be an overbearing older brother that tries almost a little too hard, but it's the thought that counts.

But now Dean is nothing more than a distraction, something that will only slow Sam down, a pawn if used correctly.

"Oh Castiel, get your feathery ass down here I have a problem. Well it's not exactly a problem, more of a mystery really. Look man, I need you and your all knowing angelic melon right now so..." Dean prayed, sitting on the motel bed he had rented for the night.

"Hello Dean." Castiel flashes in the grungy motel, his low voice ringing on the paper thin walls.

"Hey Cas." Dean smiles. It had been forever since Dean had last seen the angel, and frankly Dean didn't think that praying to him would even work. "Look, I know you have been busy up in heaven, fighting and what but I-"

"I already know about Sam." Cas answered Dean's unasked question, his eyes fully focused on the green ones in front of him.

Dean stared at the angel, dumbfounded. "H-how did you know about Sam? Do you know what is wrong with him? I can't seem to damn well figure it out and-"

"If I had any answers, I would have already let you know. Sam is not here, is he?" Cas asked, looking around the room.

"No, he went out looking for some leads on the case we got. Left about 10 minutes ago. But how did you know he was here and not in the pit?" Dean tried again.

Cas sighed, avoiding the intense gaze coming from Dean. "Sam has been praying to me ever since he got out. He wants answers, just like you, but I do not have any. I don't know how he got out, who got him out, and why he is keen on continuously coming to me for help."

"Well dammit Cas you get down here and tell him I don't know. The man deserves that much after the Hell he has been through." Dean snaps, obviously tense and worked up from the whole ordeal.

"Dean I am much more busier than you think. You are lucky I even came down for you to tell you I don't know. I don't have the luxury to come to your rescue every time you can't figure something out on your own." Cas defended, his tone threatening. "But you would have had to notice the difference in Sam. The other reason why I did not answer his prayers is because, quite frankly, I do not trust him anymore."

Dean's breathe hitched, so maybe he wasn't the only one? He had begun to notice how his brother was harsher, more blunt, and all around more rude. He happily went out to bars instead of staying up all night tapping away on his laptop with pay-per-view rattling on in the background. This Sam seemed to disregard morals or common sense, all of it being blinded by his now increased hunting power. Sam did not talk to Dean about the latest football games or which rock-n-roll band was better. It was strictly hunts and business, there was no room for fun or games.

"That's why I called you down here. I don't know how to even act around him anymore man, he's like Robocop or something." Dean stood up from his seat on the bed, grabbing a beer and almost downing it all.

"Perhaps Hell had damaged him more than either of us imagined. Considering he was down there with both Micheal and Lucifer." Cas suggested, now feeling a little sympathy for the broken hunter.

"Cas, he brought in a stripper. Multiple times in fact that he even locked me out of the room, stole my room keys right out of my jacket." Dean shook his head. "Normally I would be happy that Sammy brought in a few hot chicks, but he never pays for strippers man. Never."

Cas just furrowed his brow. "That does seem uncharacteristic of Sam, considering that is more of an activity you might do."

Dean took another swig of beer, letting out long sigh. He plopped himself down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees.

Cas looked at the state Dean was in, feeling guilty that he could not do more to help out his friend, but his face was as emotionless as ever. The only hint of anything that could be seen on his features was through his crystal blue eyes, but Dean didn't feel like trying to decipher those feelings right now.

"If I was able to do an examination on Sam, I may be able to find more answers. But there is no guarantee." Cas offered. "Sam's vessel, or his body seems to be running perfectly, perhaps it is something mental or something that is naked to the human eye unless brought out."

Dean just raised his eyebrows at that last part, too tired to try and figure out what he meant. "Wait, how is Sam's body running, quote unquote, perfectly?" Now this caught his attention.

"I have studied him a few times, from a distance of course, undetected. Sam's physical condition, his organs, functions, everything seems to be normal. Although his liver appears to be having a hard time keeping up with the rest of him." The angel answered.

Dean stood up, this news alarming the hunter. "Sam doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He never has to take a piss. At least the the times I am with him he never does any of that. So how can he still be alive?"

"Well I have a theory-"

The lock to the motel door was being undone, and with a forceful push, the door creaked open. Dean instantly reached for the silver gun laying on the bedside table, locked and loaded. Cas feels for his angel blade tucked into the folds of his trench coat, the both of them preparing for anything dangerous.

Sam walked into the motel, files in one hand, Impala keys in the other. He just stares at the angel, anger and disbelief boiling over in his facial expressions. He throws the files on the table, the keys tossed at Dean, who then dropped his gun at the sight of his brother. Cas however was to so trusting.

"Castiel, what a surprise. You show up for Dean, but not for me huh? The one who had been praying to you all this time and it's one call from him and a "Hello Dean"." Sarcasm was dripping off of his voice, the giant of a man began ripping off his red striped tie from his neck.

"Sam, I would have come if I have any answers, but I don't. I told this to Dean already-"

"You couldn't have told me that in a few short minutes? You have to leave hanging for months and months with no answer? But no I get it, Dean is more important." Sam hastily threw off his suit jacket, sitting down at the rusty table.

Cas was now getting fed up with Sam's attitude, reminding himself that this was not the Sam he knew before the Pit. "Sam, listen to me. I am very busy fighting a war in heaven. I don't have the time to come down and fix yours and Dean's problems all the time, so I suggest you pay me some respect for everything I have done for you and your brother." Cas glared at the unfamiliar Sam at the table.

"Yeah, okay." Sam just brushed him off, not having the patience to deal with the angel any longer. "So Dean, I think we are tracking a djinn."

Dean groaned. "A freaking genie man? That's gotta be like what, the third one in a row or something?"

"Or something. Look, all victim's bodies turned to mush, no blood, their brain fried like a hard-drive. Exactly like the last victims in Wisconsin and again in West Virginia." Sam threw the case files at Dean, the files he had stolen from the morgue.

Dean looked them over, sure enough, bodies turned into goo, brains looking like a charred steak. "So Cas, think this is a djinn...?"

Castiel had already left the premises, knowing there were more important jobs in heaven to be doing than listen to the Winchester brothers bicker. Although, the angel was quite glad for the small distraction from the war, with his senses running on over-drive, it was relaxing to hear Dean's jokes and humor once again. But the case of Sam Winchester was gnawing at him, there was obviously something wrong, and if his theory was right, Dean's world when come tumbling down.

"Looks like asshole angel is out of the way, I say we go search for any abandoned warehouses, garages, buildings or whatever. The thing is bound to be in one of them. All of the killings have been in a five mile radius of one another." Sam pulled out a map, marking an "X" of the three locations of the killings. He pointed at the area that the murders have all circled around.

"Wow, you got all this done in what, half an hour?" Dean said, skeptical.

"Well and last night too. I had gone to the places were with vics got offed and I just went to the morgue to look at them." Sam answered, beginning to pack up the necessary items for the hunt. "Is there lamb's blood anywhere nearby? Or in the trunk?"

"So you didn't sleep at all last night?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Well I got a few hours." Sam shrugged, his lying could easily tip off any other hunter, but not Dean. "I couldn't sleep."

"I noticed that." Dean practically growled, although unintentionally.

"So lamb's blood?" Sam tried again, looking impatient.

"I don't think we have any man, we used up the last bit in West Virginia." Dean replied, he too began packing up his silver knives and weapons.

Sam sighed in annoyance, dropping his duffle bag. "I think I saw a farm nearby, maybe they got some lambs." Sam snatched the keys off of the nightstand, slamming the door closed.

Dean heard the roar of his precious 1967 Impala, who he wouldn't mind letting Sammy use. But now, now it was like handing off Baby to a 16 year old, just-got-my-license, driver. To put it simpler, he was damn scared that his most treasured possession would come back looking like junkyard scrap metal.

Dean's face softened, his lips turned down in a frown, the little crinkles in the corners eyes were gone. Worry and sadness overcame him as he stared at the door, emptying one beer bottle and moving onto the next. "What happened to you Sammy? What happened to the Sammy that wouldn't even set out mousetraps in the motel?" Dean's words rang through his ears, the old memories haunting him.

*

"Okay so there are three warehouses and one empty building from what I checked out. All abandoned, not looking to sell either." Sam said, pulling out the map once more.

"Can't this wait until tomorrow? You took hours getting that blood plus you stopped to check these places out. It's like 11 man. I didn't even get my four hours last night." Dean complained, falling back on the bed in frustration.

"No, more people will get killed which means longer for us to get the djinn. He might have run off by now and we could have lost him. Get up Dean." Sam ordered, hoisting the duffle bag over his shoulder.

Dean groaned, sitting up and getting on his feet. He rolled his neck, yawned, and did a little stretch. He grabbed his baggage as well, letting it slide on the floor from his lack of a will to carry it.

"I'll check you the warehouse here." Sam pointed to the spot on a map, the warehouse was squeezed in between to streets. "You go there." The other place was almost right next to the other warehouse, just a road over, but at a dead end.

"Wait hold up." Dean shook his head. "We aren't doing this together? Cmon? Dontcha need back up or something Sammy? What happens if one of us gets caught?"

"Oh, I'll be fine by myself." Sam crumpled up the map, throwing it on the table. "Besides, this way we can just get the job done quicker and move onto the next." Sam was already half way out the door, not waiting for Dean's answer.

Dean took out the keys from his jacket, glad that Sam didn't decide to steal them. He threw his duffle in the truck, hopping in the driver's seat. With the roar of the engine the two were off.

Normally Sam would tell Dean to turn the radio down, or change the station. But there was not a single peep from the guy. He kept his eyes firmly glued on the road, not paying attention to Dean or his singing. Dean at first did enjoying the silence and not having to listen to the nagging of his brother. But then it got lonely. No one to argue with or fight over the radio controls with. It bugged Dean more than Sam ever could with his need for an iPod jack in his Baby.

The drive was short since the warehouses were close by to their motel. Dean first dropped Sam off, not trusting him enough to park his Impala where it couldn't get damaged.

"Be safe okay Sammy? Make sure to call if you got nothing or if you think you are in trouble, I will be there." Dean called out to his brother, who was making his way into the building.

"Yeah, okay Dean." Sam picked the lock with ease, stepping into the warehouse, and closing the heavy metal door without a second glance.

Dean, on the contrary, stared at that door for a little longer than he should have. He was contemplating on whether or not he should just go in there with Sam, and not do with whole 'lone wolf' crap. But, Dean did want to get the hunt over with as soon as possible so he could get some sleep, so he put her in drive and shot off down the road.

Sam was watching through a little crack in the door, waiting for Dean to drive off. Once he could no longer see the Impala, he began to take a shortcut through the back roads and alleyways to reach Dean's warehouse. He hid in the bushes, making sure to be completely concealed, knowing Dean could sense if something was following him. Sam couldn't have thought of a better plan. He did confirm that this was were the djinn was hiding out, he checked when he was supposed to be gathering lamb's blood. When he went in, he saw the whole set up, the ropes, the empty chairs, and the bags of blood for storage so the djinn could feed when there was nothing to feed on.

Sam watched Dean pick the lock, entering the abandoned building. He followed him, making sure he was as silent as an owl's wings. He barely caught glimpses of Dean's form as he walked along the corridors of the place, talking quietly to himself and humming random tunes. Once Dean entered the largest storage room, he immediately saw what Sam had seen.

"Bingo." Dean muttered quietly, examining the murder scene. "Hey genie, if I give ya a rub, you gonna grant me three wishes?" Dean cackled, looking around for said being.

Sam was hidden behind big wooden crates, keeping an eye on his brother. He watched silently as he saw the djinn, a female, appear from the shadows, sneakily following Dean until he was right in position. She jumped him, spreading the poison throughout his body and into his systems. Sam smirked, part one of the plan was a success. Dean lay crippled on the floor, out cold. He began readying the silver knife, dipping it into the fresh lamb's blood, a highly lethal weapon to the djinn.

"Don't think I didn't see you." A hoarse voice said from behind Sam, then everything when went fuzzy and black.

*

"Dean. Dean. Wake up." A low voice entered Dean's mind. It gradually got louder and louder, until it seemed to only be inches from his face.

Dean gasped, instantly sitting up with wide eyes, then knocking his head with something hard. He groaned in pain, rubbing his forehead. When he looked up, he was in a sea of blue. Castiel was hovering above him, those eyes checking over him for any damage.

"Cas? The hell you doing here man?" Dean asked, looking around the room. "How am I at the motel? What the hell happened?"

Cas sat down on the bed next to Dean, his face all scrunched up. "I had come into the motel to tell you something, but you were not here. I searched the rest of the town for the Impala, knowing if that's were it was, you had to be close by."

Dean grinned, his obsession with his car becoming more and more apparent. "I found you two in some distraught building, obviously abandoned form it's years of neglect. A djinn was feeding off of your blood, I killed it, I stopped the poison, and I brought you back here." Cas continued on with his story, looking over at Dean. "The both of you are experienced hunters, how did you get so easily ensnared by a single djinn?"

"It's a long story Cas, too long too tell you right now. But what I want to know is how you managed to wake us up." Dean said, walking over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a beer. He popped open the cap, taking a good, long drink to satisfy his thirst.

"Angels can dreamwalk. It does not require the African dream root, and we are much more powerful than that plant when we use it." Cas explained. "But I have yet to wake your brother, I need you to allow me some permission for the procedure I wish to do on Sam."

Dean took a gulp of beer. "What kind of procedure?"

"I need to look inside Sam, I fear that there might be a part of him missing, and the only way I can do that is reach inside of his spiritually." Cas said, standing up and walking over to Dean. "The process will be extremely painful but will not leave any physical damage. Do you allow me to do this?"

Dean thought about this process at first, wondering if it will do more harm than good. But after seeing what Sam had become, he was desperate for answers. "Yeah, if it can bring us closer to figuring out Sam's problems." Dean nodded his head, placing the beer on the counter.

"I will wake him up now." Cas walked over to Sam, who lay on his motel bed.

"Cas wait." Dean placed his hand on the angel's shoulder, halting him, "Do it while he is out, so maybe it can help stop some of the pain."

Cas nodded, stepping away from his brother. "Although, it is more than likely he will wake from this, that doing this is so immense it can throw him from his dream-like state. We have to restrain him."

Dean grabbed some rope from the array of supplies in the trunk, tying Sam's hands and feet down to the bed. Dean gave his brother one last look before giving Cas the signal to go on ahead. Dean watched as his friend forced his hand into Sam's gut, a bright light shining out from the hole he had created. He cringed at the thought of having to go through this, but it was even more worse for him having to watch his brother go through it. Dean would gladly take Sam's place if he could, so he could take away the pain.

Sam's eyes burst open, bloodshot and pained. He yelled out in agony, his facial expressions contorted into misery and hurt. Sam watched Cas's arm scrounge around in his body, looking for something that was clearly absent. Although he couldn't keep his eyes open for very long as they shut closed instantly.

After what felt like years, Cas pulled his arm out of Sam's midsection. Sam gasped and arched his back, taking in heavy, deep breaths.

"What the hell Cas! Dean!" Sam yelled at his brother and the angel, eyes searching around wildly for any answers. He pulled against the restraints, fighting the expertly tied knots.

Both men ignored him, each focused on one another. Cas's face was low and full of disbelief, a heavy burden of telling Dean the news lay on his shoulders. Dean was impatient, wanting the answer instantly. He implored the angel's face, searching for any hint that might give it away, but Cas was a seasoned veteran, his expressions as cold as ever.

"Well Cas? What's wrong with my brother?" Dean asked, eyes full of worry and need.

"Dean, Sam is soulless."