Lisa dropped down on a bale of hay and gave Dean a grin that invited for more. He straddled the bale and pushed a strand of hair off her face while admiring his own ability to get over the fact that she knew everything he thought.

She smirked. "Voiceless communication isn't half bad, is it?"

"Well, this is pretty one-way, though. Not that I mind. I think I'd go stark-raving bonkers if I had to listen to people's thoughts all day. How do you do it?"

"Oh, it's a matter of learning how to tune them out. I only hear them if I focus on wanting to hear them," she confessed. "That said, your little brother has issues, Dean. Big time."

"I was kinda hoping you'd fill me in since I can't understand him right now and that's kind of a bad thing," Dean countered. "So, fill me in."

"Self-worth issues seem to be the norm for you two. Nothing new there. But he's devastating himself, Dean. He doesn't think he should be alive. He keeps thinking that you should have left him for dead, that you shouldn't have bothered bringing him back. He sees himself as going bad, as turning evil," she said and glanced at the doors to the old barn.

"But he's not, is he?" Dean asked, feeling just a bit anxious about the whole thing. After realizing that he couldn't hide anything from Lisa, he had started to feel a tremendous sense of liberation whenever he spent time with her. She knew his deepest thoughts and still hung out with him.

"No, not that I can sense. He has some anger issues, but they seem to be mostly directed at himself and your dad for some reason," Lisa countered and edged a little closer. "Sam's a pretty conflicted guy," she added.

"Yeah, he's always striving to be more than he is," Dean agreed with a sigh, then grinned and leaned a little closer.

"Seriously, Dean," Lisa said and leaned back a little. "Shouldn't you try to figure out a way to get out of that deal of yours?"

He paused, then leaned back again and sighed lightly. "The problem is, I can't. If that bitch gets wind of that I had anything to do with it, she'll kill Sam. And I can't risk that. Since Sam is ... preoccupied right now ... well ... I didn't have much hope for a solution anyway, so ..."

"Don't be stupid. George and Tony are already looking into it. But George seems a bit preoccupied with Sam's dilemma right now. Don't worry, though. If anyone here is good at finding a solution to seemingly impossible problems, it's Tony. Of course ... there is one case around here that nobody can solve," she countered.

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Kyra. She's ... different. I can't read her mind. I think she's psychotic on some level," Lisa countered. "She's always talking to herself, muttering under her breath. It's a bit disturbing."

Dean glanced at the barn doors. "Is she that pale chick?" he asked.

"Yeah. She always keeps to herself, won't hang out with anyone. A real recluse, if you know what I mean," Lisa said and tapped her temple with one finger.

"Just because she's a bit different doesn't make her a bad person, Lisa," Dean said.

"Oh man, don't tell me you like her," Lisa countered, her tone exasperated.

"I don't know her," Dean countered and shrugged. "But I guess George has a reason for letting her stay, doesn't he? I mean ..."

"It hasn't taken you long to adopt George, has it?" Lisa asked and grinned. "Granted, he's a swell guy, but usually newcomers take a while to get used to his mannerisms. And you're not even one of the special kids."

With a light shrug, Dean got up and strolled over to the doors, where he lingered a moment, watching the others mulling around the compound, doing whatever they felt they needed to do. His gaze fixed on Sam sitting on the steps leading up to the porch and on Jennifer, who was sitting beside him. She nudged him in the ribs and laughed at something he said and Dean smirked. "Go, Sammy," he muttered, then sighed and turned back to face Lisa. "Where were we?" he asked, gave her a smirk and headed back toward her.

***

"Hey Sam," Jennifer said and jabbed an elbow into his ribs again.

"Huh?" Sam countered and glanced at her. "Would you stop jabbing your elbow into my ribs? I'm getting bruised."

Jennifer laughed. "You're a wimp, aren't you?" she asked.

Sam gave her a brief glare, then sent a glance out over the compound. "If you say so," he muttered.

Jennifer leaned in a little. "Don't be that way. Don't you have a sense of humor?" she asked.

"Not at the moment," he confessed.

"Don't be such a prude," Jennifer advised him. "You gotta try to lighten up a bit."

"And why should I do that? Things don't exactly look great from where I'm sitting," he countered a little heatedly. "I may be turning into a frigging monster and Dean has this deal hanging over his head. How much worse can it get?"

Jennifer eyed him for a moment, then she sighed and, to his immediate surprise, took his arm and leaned against him. "Okay, so things don't look too bright right now, but they have a habit of turning around when you least expect it. Why not just give it a chance, huh?" she asked.

Sam frowned at her, but figured she might have a point. "Okay, fine. If that'll make you back off," he countered grumpily.

"Back off? Not a chance," she countered and smirked. "You're too cute."

Some part of him couldn't help liking her for her stubbornness and that was probably the only reason for that he didn't push her away right now. The paranoid part of his mind insisted that George had put her up to this to keep an eye on him, but Jennifer had actually responded this way to him from the very first moment and as such he could not blame this on George. But he wanted to. And he knew why, too. He no longer could push the blame for his miserable existence off on his father, so he needed another scapegoat and George was as good as any.

Exasperated with his self-analysis and the less than flattering results he came up with, he closed his eyes and just sat there while trying not to listen to that inner voice that kept insisting he should give in to his anger and level this place. He knew where that voice came from and he had no intention of giving in to it. Not now, not ever.

"Hey Sam?"

He opened his eyes and flinched when Tony suddenly stood right in front of him. "Hey ... Tony," he said and involuntarily leaned back a little.

"George would like to talk to you. Do you have a moment?" Tony asked and took a step back, obviously aware of that he was crowding Sam right now.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, disconnected himself from Jennifer and got up. She gave him a small smile when he glanced back down at her and Tony arched an eyebrow and smirked.

"Come on," Tony said, ascended the steps and disappeared inside the house.

Sam glanced at Jennifer again, shrugged and followed him. Whatever George might want, he hoped it had something to do with a solution to his immediate problem. He needed to be able to focus on getting Dean out of that deal and he couldn't do that as long as he had anger issues up the wazoo.

When he stepped into George's office behind Tony, he almost regretted coming. Annie was there and for obvious reasons, he really didn't feel like facing her right now. He glanced at her, not meeting her eyes, and lowered his head a little.

"Sam, thank you for coming," George said and waved at a chair in front of his desk. "Sit down."

This felt very much like the principal's office in any school he'd ever gone to, but he could find no plausible reason for refusing and so settled uncomfortably down on the edge of the chair.

"How are you feeling?" George asked, eying him thoughtfully.

"Better," he said. It wasn't a lie, but it didn't really cover the truth either. He felt conflicted most of the time, unable to decide which way to turn, what reaction to go for.

George sighed lightly. "Let's try this again. How are you feeling?" he repeated.

Sam eyed him for a moment, then glanced in Tony's direction. "Like crap," he finally admitted. "I don't know which leg to stand on. I don't know how to react. And ..."

Annie rose from where she had been sitting off to the side and stepped closer. "It's understandable," she said.

"It might be understandable to you, but it isn't to me. I'm scared shitless that I'll hurt Dean. I have hurt him. And I don't ... I can't stop it when it happens. I don't want to hurt him, but ..."

"Sam," Annie said, holding up a hand. "You don't have to explain. We understand. What we need to do is find a way to rid you of the influence. Because, right now, that's all it is. If the demon could revive through you, if it could take you over, it would have done so already. There's a link here that needs to be severed. We just have to find out how."

"There might only be one way to do that, though," Tony intoned.

Annie glanced at him, a slight frown furrowing her brow. "Last resort, Tony. That's what that will be," she said, her tone of voice carrying an edge.

"What?" Sam asked and glanced at Tony, who was staring at Annie. When neither of them replied, Sam turned his attention toward George, who looked unhappy about the whole thing. "What?" he repeated.

"Well, right now it's a theory and a very vague one at that, Sam. Which is why it will not be taken into consideration unless we run out of options. And even then I don't like the idea and I'd prefer not to approach it at all," George countered.

Sam felt a cold shiver run down his spine when he realized what they were talking about. "You mean I have to die to severe the connection, don't you?" he asked.

George sighed lightly and then nodded once. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "But we are not taking that option into consideration. It's too risky in any event and it might be irreversible and that's just not a risk I'm willing to take."

The idea itself was scary, but the reason behind it wasn't and Sam was at an impasse anyway. "But if it's the only way ..." he tried, but George shook his head instantly.

"It's not the only way. There are a few other options I want to look into before ... and even then ..." He shook his head again. "This is not the kind of thing I want to even consider, Sam."

"But ..." Sam tried again, but again George cut him off.

"We won't discuss this any further today, Sam. I just wanted to know how you are doing, if you're holding up," George said.

Sam glanced at Tony, then at Annie and finally sighed. "Yeah, I'm holding up," he said tiredly.

"Don't fret. We'll find a solution. All you have to do is keep fighting the influence, Sam," Annie said. She stepped up behind him and slipped a hand onto his back. Slowly, his anxieties started to drain away at the contact and he found himself wishing she wouldn't let go again. "Promise me you'll keep fighting, Sam," she said quietly.

"Don't worry. I won't give in to this," he promised and suddenly couldn't understand why he had avoided her.

"Thank you," she said.

Sorry to let go, he slowly rose and almost shuddered when her hand dropped away. She had a very calming effect on him and he promised himself that he'd seek her out if it got too bad.

"Just remember that we're here to help you, Sam," George said.

"I know. I get that," he agreed, managed a halfhearted smile and then left the room.

Too restless to go back to sitting on the steps outside, he trailed through the house, opening doors as he went. The downstairs was for everybody and he was curious to find out where all the doors lead. One door lead to the basement, but he felt no particular need to investigate what might be hiding down there, so he closed the door again and moved on.

When there were no more doors to open, he went upstairs and dropped down on his bed. The idea of the barrack they had inhabited for one night was very intriguing, but he knew that staying there at the moment was out of the question. George wanted him close by and he really didn't feel comfortable being out there alone with Dean as long as he might hurt his brother inadvertently.

With a heartfelt sigh, he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, intent on just letting the world mind its own business for a bit while he hopefully rested as peacefully as he had the past many nights.

When he opened his eyes again, he did so because his phone had started ringing. "Aw man," he muttered and propped himself up on his elbows. Then he fished the phone out of one pocket and flipped it open. "What?"

"Don't use that tone with me," Dean countered a little aggressively.

Sam frowned and sat up. "Should I hang up? We can try this again, you know? How about introducing yourself instead of this crap?" he countered and very nearly switched the phone off again.

"Ho-wow. Have a sense of humor, dude," Dean countered hastily. He sounded kind of weird.

"I lost that somewhere around the time when Jake cut through my spinal cord," Sam countered tightly. "Why are you calling me? Why don't you just come up here? You know where I am, after all."

Dean was quite for a second and Sam's spider sense started to tingle. Something was wrong. He just couldn't quite get a fix on what it might be. Then Dean cleared his throat and something rustled in the background. "I was kinda hoping I could convince you to come down here," he finally said, his tone almost sugary sweet.

Sam swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor. "Why?" he asked. "And where is here?"

"The barn," Dean countered and sighed. "Not the one you went to. The rickety one at the front fence," he added.

Sam rose from the bed and stepped up to the window. He could see the structure clearly. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked.

"Because I'm asking you to," Dean countered and now he was beginning to sound a tad annoyed. "Just get your butt down here, Sammy. It's ... important."

Sam sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Dean, is something wrong?"

"Not per se, no," Dean lied and it was an obvious lie. "Just get down here, okay. You'll ... figure out what's going on when you get here."

Sam was starting to envision all kinds of horrible things and turned toward the door. "Okay, I'll be right there," he said.

"One more thing," Dean said before he could cut the connection.

"And what's that?" Sam asked, already heading out the door of his room.

"Could you bring me some pants?"

Sam stopped short and stared ahead of himself while another frown spread over his brow. "Say what?"

"You heard me," Dean countered, his tone suddenly aggressive. "Just grab a pair of pants from my room and get your ass down here." With that, Dean cut the connection.

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and eyed it as if it might bite him. "Pants?" he muttered, flipped it shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. "What the hell is he up to now?"

He made a detour into Dean's room to pick up a pair of Jeans and then headed toward the old barn. Jennifer was off to the side, helping some of the guys stack firewood, which seemed to be an ongoing process in this place, and she waved at him. He waved back, but did not divert from course.

The horrible things he had envisioned were crumbling while a vague idea of what might be going on with his brother wormed its way into his mind. By the time he reached the rickety doors of the old barn, the vague idea had blossomed into a fairly good one.

He pulled the door open and stepped inside, then closed it behind him before surveying the area. The smell was different from the new barn at the other end. This place smelled of old hay and dust and sunlight. But that was not what attracted his attention.

For a long silent second he just stood there and stared at Dean, who stood at the other end of the barn, his cheeks a hectic red and without a thread on. Sam eyed him, fighting a losing battle against the urge to keel over with laughter. "Dude, what the hell?" he finally managed and started chuckling.

"Just give the damned pants," Dean huffed.

Sam tossed them to him and started laughing.

Dean shimmed into his jeans, his face a bright red by now. "This is so not funny, Sam. Stop braying like a damned donkey."

Sam hugged himself and doubled over while tears rose in his eyes from laughing so hard. "What do you mean, it's not funny?" he hiccuped. "Man, look at yourself. What the hell happened?"

Dean sneered, quite obviously embarrassed. "What happened? What do you think happened, Einstein?" he huffed angrily.

"Oh god, this is hilarious. You were pranked? Let me guess. Lisa got you to drop your clothes and then left you here?" Sam asked and started laughing again. "Man, that's genius."

"Genius," Dean growled. "I'll show you genius. She thought I needed a lesson in etiquette. Bitch!"

Sam sank down on a bale of hay while he continued laughing. Damn, this was just too funny. He knew from his own experience how hard it was to pull one over on Dean and that Lisa had managed to do that spoke in her favor. "Man, I really think I like Lisa," he said and sniffed, wiping a stray tear away from his face.

"Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball," Dean huffed. "I'll get her back for this."

"Ah man, you should have seen your face," Sam said, still chuckling under his breath.

"Shut it, Samantha. I'm warning you," Dean said, stabbing a finger in his direction. "This is not over."

"Hey, at least she left you your phone. Imagine what would have happened if you couldn't call for help either," Sam countered. The idea of his brother streaking across the lawn to the house was so damned funny, he doubled over laughing again. It was liberating like nothing else to laugh this much.

"She didn't leave me my phone, wise guy. It fell out of the pocket. That's the only reason for that I have it," Dean countered grumpily and slipped said phone into the pocket of his jeans. "Give me your shirt," he added.

"Na-ah," Sam countered. "You got pranked, dude. Be thankful I came down here at all."

Dean made a face, but was obviously having a hard time not looking at the funny side of this. "She's good. I have to give her that. She really had me going there," he finally said and smirked lightly.

Sam sniffed, pulled his shirt off and threw at Dean, who caught it and pulled it on. The fact that Sam's shirt was a tad too big for him caused another bray of laughter.

Dean looked down at the overly long sleeves, then rolled them up a little and gave Sam a grumpy look. "You are so enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.

"Hell, yeah. I haven't laughed this much in years," Sam admitted with a grin. "Come on, man. Admit it. She won this round."

"Yeah, she did," Dean agreed and shook his head with a smile on his lips. "Damn that mind-reading ..." He stopped himself and sighed. "If I didn't have other things on my mind right now, I'd get her back right away. But ... revenge is sweet. It can wait a bit."

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed the barndoor open again. "I never thought you'd be that easy," he said and stepped outside.

Dean followed him, cursing under his breath when he stubbed his toe on a piece of rock. "I'm not easy. I just didn't take her for the prankster-type," he growled. "Keep going, Francis. I wanna get some shoes on so I can go hunt her down and get my stuff back."

Nobody paid them any attention as they hurried back toward the main building and Dean got back to his room without having to answer any odd questions as to why he wasn't wearing any shoes. And Sam felt liberated in a way. This little scene had readjusted his sense of what was important and he really felt the need to find Lisa and commend her on her ingenious prank.

***