Disclaimer: I in no way own Supernatural or any of its' characters. If I did, well I wouldn't be here writing. I'd be in the studio writing. But alas! I am here, and yet I'm glad to be.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Not really any. No pairings, slight cussing, nothing that will cause any permanent damage. So enjoy!

Summary: John Winchester is down to his last option in discovering his wife's killer, but will his newest solute be worth the sacrifice of his youngest son's peace of mind?

Hypnotic Effect

By: WinchesterHaunt

Seventeen year old Samuel Winchester headed down the raised steps of his new high school. His father, John Winchester, had just recently uprooted their lives once again to move back to they're home state of Kansas. Sam really didn't mind the move back, it's just he wished that their moves weren't as frequent as they were. A couple of months were barely enough time to do the normal things that many teenagers enjoyed, or even disliked for that matter.

For must families, moving in itself would take a few months, but not the Winchesters. Sam found out quickly that setting up his new room every few months wasn't much of a hassle when all of his earthly possessions could be stored into a large traveling bag. School was a bit harder to keep up with. Transferring to a different school meant adjusting to the unique work schedule of new teachers. Some teachers would be behind schedule and Sammy would have to sit in class and endure repeat lessons; while at other times teachers would be ahead of schedule, causing Sam to have to skip back a chapter or two to get caught up. In all, Sam's life was nothing short of stressful, and this was without adding ghost hunting to the list.

Two beeps and an engine rev brought Sam's attention down to the parking lot. He didn't need to look to see who it was. Only one person's car could make enough noise to be heard over other more modern cars and teenaged chatter.

"'Ey Sammy." Dean grinned at his lanky younger brother through the passenger side window, "Get in."

"Dean?" Sam flashed his older brother a confused face as he settled himself in to the shotgun of the Impala. "What are you doing here?"

"What? I can't give my geeky brother a ride home on his first day at a new school. That hurts Sammy. Besides, I wanted to check out the people you go to school with, you know, make sure it's safe." Dean ended his sentence by focusing his attention on a group of girls standing close to the school gates. He flashed them his signature grin before sealing the deal with a wink.

Sam raised an incredulous eyebrow at Dean.

"Sure," Sam wasn't convinced in the least, "So basically you got bored just sitting home with dad. And it's Sam."

Dean pressed his lips together and shot his little brother a glare; one that told Sammy that he had been correct in his assumption.

"Yeah, pretty much, Sam."

Dean revved his engine once more for show before pulling away from the school. There wasn't much conversation between Sam's school and home. He figured it was pointless to try to talk to Dean with Metallica blaring through the speaker at an ungodly volume. Anything spoken would have been lost among the jerky rhythm of rock music. However, when they did finally arrive at their small rental house Dean turned down the music in order to study the foreign car that sat in his parking place in the driveway.

Sam leaded forward in his seat, "Who's that?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and parked his Impala by the curb side, "Maybe it's one of the girls from your school."

"You're not that charming, Romeo."

The two Winchester sons entered into the small brick house to the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Dean and Sam traded glances before both proceeded into the kitchen. What they found there was their father pacing up and down the short distance of the table where an unfamiliar dark skinned woman sat with her large purse sitting in her lap.

"I don't like these John. It doesn't have a good feeling to it."

John stopped his pacing for the moment and ran his hand across his face. "I don't have very many options left, Missouri. I think he's old enough to handle it now."

Missouri lips pressed together in a thin line of frustration. "John Winchester, if you go through with this you'll do nothing but push that boy farther away."

There was a pause in the steady stream of conversation and Dean took it.

"Uh, dad?"

John gave a start at the sudden appearance of his two sons standing in the doorway to their kitchen. However, Missouri seemed unfazed by their surprised entry. John noticed this and sent a small glare her way. She simply shrugged it off.

"Dean. Sam. This is an old friend of mine, Missouri."

Missouri stood up when John gestured to her and turned to greet the two boys.

"This is Dean and Sam?" the question was directed at John, though her eyes never left the brothers.

"Well look at you two. I haven't seen the both of you seen you were knee height."

Sam and Dean held their fake grins well. Sam had glances over to Dean once already to see if he could come to a conclusion on who this woman was that already knew them both. He was reward with the same look from Dean. Clearly neither of them remembered ever knowing this Missouri character.

"Oh you two can stop pretending that you know me." Missouri complained and popped Dean on the arm. Dean looked a bit taking back by the action and Sam could tell he was wondering why he himself hadn't received the same blow. "You two were so young when I might you, but you're certainly not so young anymore."

Sam held out his hand to shake her hand when she approached him directly. He couldn't help but notice the sad little smile that replaced her happier one for the first moment their hands touched. "Sam. You certainly have grown up, and handsome too. A few more inches and you'll be taller than your brother."

Dean couldn't quiet suppress a snort at the idea of Sam, his younger brother, being taller than him.

"And Dean," said Winchester dawned his trademark grin as he took her hand in greeting. "You're taller. Oh and honey don't worry, you'll grow out of that goofy look."

Dean's smile instantly melted to a frown while Sam had his turn at not suppressing his own snort of laughter.

Sam saw Dean open his mouth to reply, so in an effort to stop what could possibly be Dean's first losing battle with a woman, he interjected.

"We're sorry if we interrupted you. We just wanted to let dad know we were home. We'll just be going…"

"Nonsense." Missouri waved Sam's apology away as if it were smoke, "I was just about to leave anyway and I'm glad I got to see you boys before I left. Now, if you'd be so kind as to walk me to the door, John, I'll be on my way."

John nodded and began to walk Missouri to the door. "I'll be back in a minute boys.

"Goodbye boys, you take care now, hear?"

Sam's cheerful reply to their father's friend wasn't lost to Dean's 'yeah' and half 'so-long' and half 'go-reddens' wave.

Once the front door sounded their absence, Sam headed towards the living room; Dean close behind him. Sam plopped himself down onto the old blue couch that had conveniently came with the house and began to work on his homework. Dean appeared shortly after Sam with a bag of chips and plopped down onto the other side of the couch. However, Dean's choice of activity was channel surfing.

After a few channels went by Dean popped a few chips in his mouth. "What d'ya wanna watch Sam?"

Dean waited for his brother's reply but in the end received none. After calling his name once more he finally got a confused answer of 'what?'

Dean rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Come on Sammy. You just got home from school. You ever heard of taking a break?"

"I'll take a break when I'm done," was Sam's absent minded reply.

"Do it later Sammy, it's why they send it home."

Sam looked up at his brother's disappointed face and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "They send it home, because at some point, they want you to do it at home."

"My point exactly Sam, at some point."

"But if I do it now, I want have to do it later."

"But if you do it now," Dean stopped flipping the channels and flashed Sam a grin, "you'll miss Matlock."

Sam groaned and shook his head.

Before Dean could farther push the subject of why it was important to watch TV now and study later, John appeared behind the couch.

"Sam?"

Both brothers jumped slightly.

"Dang dad, you're getting at that whole stealth thing. I'm gonna have to step up my game."

John acknowledged Dean's comment with a brief smile before turning his attention back to his youngest. "Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?"

Sam looked over at Dean in a way that almost looked as though he were getting permission, but was only meant to see if Dean know what there father wanted. No luck on either though; Dean simply shrugged and stuck another chip in his mouth.

"Uh, sure dad."

Dean remained on the couch staring at the TV screen, though he really wasn't paying it much attention. He instead turned the volume insanely low in an effort to hear what his father could possibly want to talk to Sam about. But his efforts were a lose. The only thing Dean was able to hear was Sam's bedroom door slam shut thirty minutes later, and that's were he stayed for the rest of the night.

---

The next morning Dean entered the kitchen and found his father at one end of the table with his usual cup of coffee and newspaper and his kid brother, who had finally deemed them worthy of his presence, sitting at the other end. Dean sighed. It was a common sight in their house. Sam and his father never got along. There was always something to fight about, whether it be dad's hunt for ghost or Sam's hunt for normality.

"Morning dad, morning bro," Dean greeted as he entered what could quickly become a battle field at any moment.

His only response was his name spoken simultaneously by the two combatants.

The silence was deafening and the tension was even worse. Dean hated mornings like this; morning where the least little movement or noise could possibly start an angry exchange of words between his brother and John. Mornings where opening a bag of cereal was the most painful task possible because of its loud crinkling. But Dean could stand the silent no more.

"So Sammy," Dean began, pulling out the chair between John and Sam, "How's soccer going? You've got practice after school today, right?"

Dean knew it was the wrong question when Sam shot him a confused look. In Dean's effort to start a somewhat peaceful conversation he had chosen the one thing he could think of that Sammy liked to do besides school. This tactic gave Dean away immediately. Sam knew that Dean, and John, weren't big on the idea of Sam do any after school activities. It took away from the training their father had been teaching them for as long his Dean could remember. Smooth move, Dean.

Dean was glad when Sam's eyes left his to rest on the paper in front of their father's face before looking back down at his untouched bowl of cereal. "It's fine. And no, practice was cancelled today."

"Your coach cancelled a practice? I didn't think that guy was capable of canceling anything," Dean grinned as he set his coffee mug down, "Poor dude cried for the first thirty minutes of your last game because two players didn't show up. What a puss."

"He's not like that. And he's not the one that cancelled." Dean was startled at the fiery edges to Sam's usually soft spoken words. Sam sighed before standing and retrieving his book-bag by his chair; his words once more regaining their peaceful nature. "I've gotta go."

"Sam," John folded and laid his paper aside. Sam stopped with his hand on the doorknob but didn't turn to look at his father, "I'll be picking you up after school today."

"Fine," was the only answer John got before Sam disappeared out the door.

Dean keep staring at the front door even after Sam was no longer standing in front of it. He only looked away when a metallic clang sounded on the table in front of him. His father had tossed the keys to his Impala in front of Dean and when Dean looked up for clarification John jerked his head in the direction of the front door. The eldest Winchester son didn't need anymore prompting. He knew what is father wanted without words and a part of him was more than happy to do it. So with a scoff of chair legs and a metal cling of keys, Dean was out the front door.

---

Dean tapped his thumbs against the stirring wheel to the nonexistence music in his head. Normally Dean's heavy rock would be all but trying to bust out of the metal frame of the car, but this morning he had opted to leave it off in case his kid brother decided to spill the beans on what was bothering him. It was obviously something important if his father had sent him after Sam. After all, he knew how much Dean didn't go for chick flick moments. But in Dean's eyes, their father was always right and always knew what to do and when to do it. So if John thought it was best for Dean to be Sam, then Dean would be right there. After all, it was his job as a big brother to cuddle the kid with tough love and rude comments, and Den was only too happy to do it.

"I don't want to talk about this, Dean."

Dean glanced over at his baby brother, whose head was resting on the passenger window. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Sam picked his head up and locked his eyes on his older brother; "why else would you not have your music playing."

"Tsk, tsk Sammy. What kind of person blares their music this early in the morning in a peaceful neighborhood where people are trying to sleep; it's rude you know?"

"It's never stopped you before," Sammy grumbled before placing his forehead back on the cool window.

"Seriously dude, what's up?"

"It's nothing."

"Oh it's something, and you're going to tell me what it is or else I'm pulling over and beating it out of you. And yes, those are your only options." Dean paused to look over at the reflection of his brother's face in the side window. He didn't look too angry at the statement, which told Dean that something really was wrong. Usually Sam would have chastised him for butting in. The elder son sighed. "What did dad do this time, Sammy?"

"It's Sam, and how do you know it has anything to do with dad?"

"What? You haven't heard?" Dean looked mocking incredulous. "I'm physic."

"Yeah," Sam laughed bitterly, "You're about as physic as I am."

Silent stole over the interior of the family car for a moment. Sam had hoped that they had gotten far enough off subject that Dean would drop the conversation, but one look over to the driver's seat told Sam otherwise.

Sam sighed and sat straight up in his seat, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Dad's taking me to a hypnotist after school today."

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced over to Sam before looking back at the road. "What for? Is he going to try and hypnotize you into willingly going hunting?"

Dean noticed the frown that still consumed his brother's face after his joke.

"I wish. He's taking me to have old memories dug up." Sam had trouble swallowing before the next sentence would form, "He… he wants me to remember the night—that mom died."

Dean thought for sure his heart had dropped into the bottom of his stomach from the horrible sinking feeling that had hit him hard in the gut. A red stop sign came into view and Dean stopped the car and just sat their. "What?"

"Dad wants to take me…"

"I heard that part." Dean voice sounded at bit harsher then he intended it too, "I meant why."

Sam's eyes seemed to wonder everywhere but to his brother's piercing stare. The younger boy swallowed again. "I was the only person that was in the same room with mom when she… So I had to have seen the 'thing' that, took her."

Dean sat back on the seat of the Impala and pulled his hand down his face. This was absurd. The only good thing about that night had been that Sammy was too young to remember what had happened. Many times Dean had thanked God that Sam didn't remember; especially the times when he smiled. Dean knew that Sam would never be able to smile like he did if he had witness whatever horrible tragedy had happened right under his little nose that night. What was his father thinking? Had he become that desperate in his hunt to turn to his last option?

"You'll be there, right dean?"

Dean was startled out of his thoughts at how small Sam's voice sounded. He even looked smaller and even somewhat defeated by the way his shoulders slumped.

"Yeah, of course."

"Good," Sam sighed, "I don't think I could do this by myself, and I'm not so sure dad would be much for support."

Dean's lips twitched to a sad little smile has he clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a friendly shake, "Don't worry bro, I'll be there. Besides, somebody's gotta make sure you get the cute hypnotist."

Sam grinned for the first time since the car had left their driveway and seeing it gave Dean enough power to find his own smile, which seemed to have left sometime during the conversation.

A loud horn beeped behind them and Sam and Dean jerked around to find a line of three cars sitting behind them. None of the driver's seemed too pleased.

"Yeah, shut up, I'm going already!" Dean yelled before literally pulling the petal to the metal.

---

Sam sat in one of the old clothe blue chairs in the hypnotist's waiting room. His father occupied the chair to his left and his big brother occupied the one to the right. He figured his father had chosen their seating arrangement to form a guard around him in case he decided to make a run for it. But Sam wasn't going to try that. He was sure that his nerve shaken legs wouldn't support any get-a-way plans he might attempt.

Sam's nerves had been nonexistent on the ride over, but when the Impala's engine had died in the parking lot, he suddenly found himself raked with dread. He wasn't even sure how he had made it from the car to the glass entrance door with worn chipped lettering. Sam hadn't even noticed how close he had be tailing Dean until his older brother stopped in the doorway causing Sam to collide into his back. He felt embarrassed that he had been using his brother as a human shield to hide behind, so he was thankful that Dean only grunted from the impact instead of his usual insulting sarcasm.

Dean hadn't even flinched from the blow. When Sam peered up at him he noticed Dean's ridged stance. His arms were held tense by his sides and his whole body took up the doorway making it difficult to enter. Sam had seen that stance before, many times in fact. Sam had to peek over the older brother's shoulder to see if they had walked in on some kind of spirit or mythical creature, but when he looked over he saw nothing out of the ordinary; only chairs and people.

"Dean."

Both brothers looked up towards their father who was already halfway to the clerk's desk.

"You and your brother go find a seat while I sign Sam in."

"Yes sir," Dean replied automatically. His monotone voice showed all seventeen years of order-taking from their father without explanation, "Come on Sammy."

Sam followed begrudgingly, but was glad to finally make it to one of the chair and give his jittery legs a break. Their father soon followed after and took the empty seat next to his youngest.

So this is where they were. Sam was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, John was busying himself with an old out of date magazine, and Dean had taken to making paper airplanes out of the folded pamphlets sitting on the desk next to him.

Sam took in his surroundings in hopes of taking his mind off of what was to come. Unfortunately his actions only proved to worsen matters. All the people that accompanied them in the waiting room looked to be off their rockers. Some wore large colorful garments that could easily be distinguished as homemade while others found regular clothes to be suitable; that is, as long as their head wear or glasses style was over the top.

Where had his father come across this place? He was beginning to think he had looked in the yellow pages under cuckoo after a woman with explosively large hair, neon green suit, and large multicolored bag came in. Apparently Dean had the same thought from the look of disgust on his face as she bounced past in her high heels.

Sam glanced up at his father as if to find his answer there, but John never faltered from reading his magazine. He breathed out an irritated sigh and looked up at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time. Sam wasn't stupid enough to think that his father was actually reading that magazine. No way was his father, John Winchester, interested in anything inside of an old Teen People magazine. All he cared about was the hunt and his own crusade. If the magazine didn't have people talking about ghost hunts while wearing camho casual, then he wasn't interested. Sam knew that his father was just using it as an excuse not to speaking or even make eye contact with him for that matter. But this confused Sam. Wasn't John leading commander of his small family army? Wasn't whatever he said supposed to be taken as law and given no room for debate? So why now was he going through such an effort to keep away from a conversation with him?

"Sam Winchester."

Both Dean and his father had taken to standing before he could even think about getting up. John had tossed the magazine aside like old garbage and was making his way towards the lady holding a clipboard. Sam swallowed and pulled himself up from his chair only to come face to face with Dean. Startled for a second, Sam fixed a puzzling stare into Dean's piercing one. His brother's stare only lasted for a moment or two, but in those moments Sam knew that Dean was searching for any signs of fear. His brother's jawed tightened into a frown; he had apparently found what he hoped not to.

"Come on Sammy. Let's get this over with, huh?"

Dean once again took the lead in front of his brother as they both hurried to catch up with their dad and the short young lady he was with.

A little ways down the hallway they found John and the younger lady standing on either side of what strangely resembled a dentist chair.

"Alright, which on of you would be Sam?" the young lady smiled while checking the name on her chart.

"That would be me, Samuel Winchester," Dean quickly strode forward and offered his hand to the girl with one of his devilishly handsome smiles, "and who, might I ask, would you be?"

Before the female assistant could take Dean's offered hand, John reached forward and grabbed Dean by the collar of his jacket and pulled him backwards. "Vivian, this is my oldest son, Dean. And that young man over there is Sam."

"Well, it's nice to meet you both." She said politely before handing out her instructions, "Why don't you take a sit Sam while I check to see if your vitals are good and then we'll see about getting you started."

Sam, in no way, wanted anything to do with the chair that sat in the middle of the room, but as all the other tasks he had been doing that day, he found himself doing it relentlessly under the watchful eye of his father. Vivian began her work of fastening a wide black strap to Sam's bicep and began to pump it up.

The tightening of the blood pressure strap was nothing compared to the strike pressure that was beginning to form in his chest. Throughout Sam's whole life he had been tough how to fight, how to defend himself, and how to avoid being pinned down by your enemy. It was all he could do to keep those instincts at bay and let himself by held captive by this oddly formed chair.

A sense of betrayal weighted heavily on his chest as he looked up at his father and brother who just stood there allowing it all to happen. They were family. They were supposed to look out for one another, supposed to be there when the other needed them. But instead of helping his son away from the executioner, John had been the one to hold Sam's head down to the cutting block.

"Well Sam, your vitals area a bit high, but that's not uncommon for first time patients."

"Will it be okay to proceed with his vitals being high?" John placed his hand on top of Sam's shoulder. He could see that his son was getting ready to call it a day thinking that he was ineligible to continue on with the session.

Vivian scribbled something done on her clipboard before acknowledging the oldest Winchester. "Oh, yes. It's probably nothing more than a bad case of nerves. Like I said, we get that all the time from new patient."

John nodded and patted his son on the shoulder in a frail attempt of comfort.

"I'll go get the doctor now and then we can get started."

After Vivian left the room an air of tense silence settled in the air. Dean cleared his throat several times in attempt to break it, but it was clear that John was off thinking somewhere in that mind of his and Sam was starting to look whiter than some of the ghost they had hunted.

"Hey Sammy, you think we can get one of these chairs for our places," Dean's laugh came out weak and stopped altogether when Sam turned to him with barely subdued fright in his eyes.

"The nurse was nice, huh?" Dean trying again, picking a subject he new he'd be better at, "Not too bad on the eyes either. Maybe you'll get that good lookin' doctor I promised you after all."

No sooner had Dean spoke the door creaked open and a large woman with thick rimmed glasses and blue skirt suit came stepping through the doorframe with Sam's chart in her hands.

"Ah, you must be Samuel Winchester, correct?"

Sam turned wide eyes to Dean and found that his brother was wearing the same expression.

"Sorry Sam," Dean whispered while glancing at the doctor again, "slim pickin's."

The doctor didn't wait for Sam to answer her. She already knew good and well who was sitting in her chair.

"Well then, let's not waste time on the pleasantries shall we. I'm Dr. Sarah McHaggly and you are Samuel Winchester." The doctor's clear British accent held none of the same welcoming tone that the assistant from earlier had. It was clear that she wasn't the type to call their patients a day later to check up on them. Heck, she barely showed interest now.

"You must be the father, John Winchester," The women glanced up at John before flickering surprised eyes over to Dean. "Oh. And who are you?"

"I'm the brother."

"Well, brother. Do you have a name or is brother your name?"

Dean glared at the doctor before smugly replying. "Yeah. It's Jagger. Mick Jagger."

"Well, alright th…" the doctor trailed off and glared back at Dean, who shot back a grin.

Dean could see the glare he was getting out the corner of his eye from his father, but it was lost to Dean as he saw his little brother's repressed smile.

"Alright then, tell us why we are here?" The doctor announced to the room, her hands coming to rest interlaced in her lap.

"I'm here 'cause me father is forcing me to be." Sam wanted to reply.

"Um, right," John stepped forward, "My son witnessed the murder of my wife 17 years ago. He was just a baby then. The police have been looking into the case for quite some time now and haven't been able to find any clear evidence."

"So you're wanting to see if I can dig it up correct?"

Sam flinched at the crude terminology. He didn't like the idea of anyone digging around in his head.

Once again the doctor waited for no answer, "Well of course you do. That's why you're here. But I must warn you, it'll be tricky work."

"What do you mean? Why?" John glanced at his oldest son before turning back to the doctor for her answer to Dean's question.

"Well what do you expect? Delving that far into the unconscious, shifting through 17 years of memories to get to the very bottom of the pile; it'll be like digging a hole. And as soon as we get down there, it'll be harder to pull out of then normal sessions where people only go back to the age of 9 or 8."

John felt Sam's shoulder tense under his hand and gave it a firm squeeze, "So are you advising against this?"

"Of course not! I am, after all, the best." McHaggler pulled a large silver pocket watch from the pocket of her skirt and let it drop down in front of Sam's line of vision. "I imagine you'll want to set back a bit. Wouldn't want the two of you falling out on me as well. Which reminds me, Vivian!"

A mere moment later, the lady from before came bustling into the room. "Yes, Dr. McHaggler?"

"The tape recorder?"

"Tape recorder?" John stepped forward again as Vivian placed the compact recorder onto the table behind them and left the room.

"Of course, Mr. Winchester. This is for the police so that they can have hard evidence of what transpires here today. Wouldn't want them thinking you made anything up and wasted a good session now would we? No, I think not. Now please, step back."

John was quickly becoming aggravated at the constant dismissals this woman keep giving him, but had no other choice but to step over to the other side of the room where Dean already stood, arms crossed in a disapproving fashion.

Sam tried to look and see where his father and Dean had gone, but was stopped short as the doctor's large fingers caught his chin and brought his head back forward. The silver watch was once again in his line of vision. It spun for a moment until a bright flash of light caught its' shiny edges and sent a blinding flash into his eyes. After that, Sam couldn't seem to focus on anything other than the watch. It was like nothing else mattered.

"Good," he heard the doctor say, "Now, keep your eyes on my watch. Back and fourth, back and fourth. That's right. Good boy."

Sam's eyes tittered back and fourth to the rhythm of the swinging watch. After 30 seconds of repeating the same movements he could feel his eyes beginning to work on their own. He no longer had to think about moving them, they just did so on their own. He was also aware of the heavy sensation growing along his body and especially around his eyelids. He didn't like this feeling at all. Sam wasn't trained to give up the actions of his body so easily. He was trained to fight, but when he finally got up the nerve to try and fight back, his body was already pulled far enough under that only a twitch of his arm and a desperate whine came out.

"Easy now. Don't fight it. We're almost there."

Sam couldn't help but notice the nicer tone the doctor had taken on. She was obviously nice when it came to the job and not the annoying first timers' speech she probably had to give out more than she'd like.

Nevertheless, Sam didn't like her simply because she was helping his father do this to him. His mind began to panic when he felt his eyelids completely drop closed on him. He knew that he was about to be under at any moment. And he knew as soon as he let go, the nightmare that had plagued his family for so long would be revealed to him. And despite all of his efforts to keep conscious, he never felt himself slump backwards as he fell back into the darkness of his mind.

Dr. McHaggler leaned back and wiped her forehead on the back of her hand, "Your son put up a good fight Mr. Winchester, but we're in there. Now, what's the date that we're trying to get to?"

Dean had to restrain himself from taking a step towards his brother, and knew he might have if not for the firm hand John had place on his shoulder. He didn't like the disturbing feeling that washed over him as he watched Sam slump back into the chair. He had to keep reminding himself that their dad was doing this for a reason. That his father knew what was best for the both of them. But it was still hard to shake off twenty-one years of protectiveness and stand idly by.

"November 2, 1983." John paused for a moment to look over at Sam's peaceful face. Within the next few minutes it could very well change. "It happened that night."

Dr. McHaggler gave a curt nod and placed her pocket watch down by the active tape recorder. She turned back towards her young patient and made an effort to sound more soothing than her normal speaking voice.

"Sam? Can you hear me?"

There was a silent pause before Sam replied with an "Umm hmm."

"Good, now. I want you to relax and let yourself sink. It may feel a bit strange at first, but don't fight it, do you understand." The doctor waited for his affirmation, which came only in the form of a nod, before continuing. "Now. Let's go back a little ways, shall we, to the night of November 2, 1983. Does that date sound familiar to you?"

"Yes," this time Sam's answer wasn't the same sleepy response he had answered with previously. This time it sounded fully awake, as if he were answering a simple question under normal circumstances.

"Good," the doctor sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, "then we'll wait for you to get there."

Sam could feel the darkness that surrounded him. He could feel it pulling him farther and farther into his subconscious and despite his instincts to fight back he reminded calm and allowed the invisible strands of his mind to pull him along. The doctor's voice was all around him, as clear as a bell. The strands that pulled him downwards seemed to be reacting to her command and were now pulling him farther down and back to the night of November 2, 1983.

The cloud of darkness he was riding on finally seemed to slow down and pass through something solid before laying Sam down and vanishing all together. He was now laying on something soft and was wrapped up by what felt like cotton. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling over head. The first thing that Sam noticed was the ring of five plush animals hanging above him. He reached his hand up towards the mobile unwillingly and quickly realized that his once mature teenaged limb was now the size of a baby's.

Sam sucked in a breath as he realized where he was.

"This is my room…" Sam breathed.

"Tell me what you see Sam."

Sam recognized the doctor's voice as it flooded in all around him.

"Um," Sam tried to look around on his own but learned that he couldn't control his actions. This was only a memory from the past and therefore couldn't be changed just because he wanted to look around a bit more. But despite not being able to see around fully, he was about to make out some details about the room that would satisfy the doctor's question. "A mobile—there's a mobile hanging over the crib and there's also a clock on the wall with little trucks and airplanes on it. There's a moon shaped light on the wall by a shelf of stuff animals. I can't see much. It feels like I'm just watching things. Like—like I'm guess a visitor in my own body."

"Don't worry, that's a natural feeling. Now tell us what's happening."

Sam waited a few moments just be satisfied with taking in the few sites of his old room. After a bit longer he was about to reply that nothing was happening when he suddenly heard the door to his room click open. Through Sam's large baby eyes he could see a woman of medium height with longish blonde hair and a shorter boy with shaggy sandy-blonde hair in her arms standing in the doorway.

"Come on, let's say going night to your brother."

Sam immediately recognized the young boy as his big brother, Dean. It was also in that moment that he realized that if this was Dean, then the woman with him must be his mother.

Sam found himself mixed with more emotions then he thought possible. He wanted to laugh at how right Missouri had been about Dean being a goofy-looking child, but he also wanted to cry at the very sight of his mother. This was the first time he had ever remembered seeing her alive; this was the first time he had ever heard her voice.

Sam swallowed passed the lump in his throat, "I can see Dean—and mom."

"And what are they doing?"

Sam grinned wishing that he could see his brother's face once he revealed what was happening, "Dean just kissed me on the forehead."

His grin only grew as his heard Dean clear his throat uncomfortably in the background.

"Goodnight love," Sam turned his attention back to his mother as she leaned down and ran her hand over his head before placing a tend kiss in the same spot that Dean had.

"Hey Dean." Sam looked to the doorway to see his father standing there waiting to caught Dean in his arms as the young boy ran for him.

"Dad's here now," Sam told the doctor, "Ha. He and Dean are discussing if I'm ready to play football yet."

Sam would have glared at Dean's insulting comment of, "You're still not, runt," if his eyes had been opened to do so.

"You got him?"

"Yeah."

Sam looked up to see his mother leaving the room. His dad and Dean weren't far behind.

"Sweet dreams, Sammy."

His father bid him goodnight and clicked off the lights in the room.

Sam felt distressed at suddenly being left alone in the room. He wanted for his mother to come back. He knew that this would be the last time he would see her before tragedy stroke.

Sam shook his thoughts away from that moment. He didn't want to be here when it happened. Sam had had his happy moment. He had gotten to see what his family was like before. He knew now that at one point in all their lives that they had been normal and now Sam was ready to go. He didn't want to stay any longer and give up this perfectly normal memory of his family to the nightmare that was about to arise.

But Sam knew it was too late for that when he felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked up at his mobile and watched as it started to spin and play soft music on it own. The moon-shaped lamp in the corner began to flicker. Sam knew that he wasn't alone anymore and he desperately fought to pull his self from his dream like state.

"Sam, what's wrong? Tell us what's happening."

Apparently his inter struggles were starting to show themselves on the outside. He could feel that his eyes were squeezed tight and his hands had a vice grip on the chair's armrest.

"I don't wanna be here anymore," Sam grunted as he felt the presence in the room getting stronger, "there's something else in here."

Sam's head turned back and forth around the room looking for the thing that was causing all the weird vibes. When he was finally ready to give up he saw it.

"Dad?" Sam said aloud. "I thought you left the room."

The man that stood over his crib smiled and suddenly Sam was aware that whoever this was, was not his father.

"John?"

Sam wanted to call out to his mother that something was wrong, that this was not his father. But his mouth would not work for him. Instead, she left the doorway when the man wearing John's face signaled for her to be quiet. Sam was once again alone with this strange being.

"Hello Sammy," the stranger even sounded like his father, "have you been a good boy?"

Sam knew from enough horror movies that Dean had made him sit through, that that line coming from a bay guy was never good.

"I hope you don't mind," the being asked as he took one hand off of the crib's railing and extended it towards Sam's little head," but I'd like to make a few—modifications."

The seventeen year old Sam inside his baby self struggled with all his might to distance his self from the creature before, but it was no use. At this age, baby Sammy didn't know the difference between friend or foe and just wiggled about as any other baby would when about to receive attention.

The moment the being had laid it's hand on top of his head, Sam felt a blinding white hot pain flood his brain that caused him to yell in pain.

"Sam!"

This time the voice wasn't that of the doctor's but that of his father and brother. He could feel them crowded around him in a panicked flutter.

"What's happening Sam? Sam!"

Sam wanted so badly to answer is father, but when he tried, he found that his vocal cords would no longer obey him.

"Sammy?" Sam turned his head towards another voice that was calling his name. It was his mother.

The being cursed and withdrew its' hand from Sam's head. Sam let out a struggled cry of relief as the pain eased away and breathed deeply as he felt someone back in the doctor's office running their hand through his hair.

But their was no time to worry about what was happening in the doctor's office as he watched the figure in his room look towards the doorway with a grin that could only be described as pure evil.

"You should be proud. Not everyone gets to say that their mother died trying to save them," and with that he evaporated to the ceiling in black smoke.

Sam felt sick. Hot tears pools in his eyes and threaten to spill over.

"Sammy?" His mother approached the crib and with all Sam's might he tried to tell her to leave. To run away. Do anything! Just don't be here.

"No. Mom. Get out of here!" Sam yelled and struggled violently trying to get his point across.

"Sam, come on," he felt someone roughly patting his cheek, "that's it. Take him out of this."

"No. Just wait a minute…"

"Dad!"

Sam heard Dean fight in his defense, but little did the two know that it was too late. The damage in this nightmare had already been done. Sam laid stock still as he looked into the horrified eyes of his mother. She was stuck to the ceiling, blood dripping from her abdomen. He began to visibly shake as the hot pooled tears began to leek from his eyes.

"Oh God…" he whispered and tried to turn his head away but like before, it was no use.

"Dad!"

"Take him out."

And suddenly it was over. He was back in his chair inside the small patient room. His eyes were wide and unfocused, but he could feel his father's hands on neither side of his face and the closeness of John's face to his. He was briefly aware of his hand clinging onto another hand and knew in an instant that his big brother was standing watch from his left side.

"Sammy?"

Sam's eye's slowly focused on his father's face in front of him. He could see the lines of worry etched into his normally stern face. But this time, instead of the normal stern façade, all Sam saw was guilt. Tears once again appeared in Sam's eyes and fell down his already wet cheeks.

"Dad," he croaked out before his father hugged his head to his chest and he crumble under everything that had just taken place in the last few minutes.

---

The ride home from the hypnotist was spent in strict silence. Not even Dean was brave enough to try and conquer it with his off-handish sarcasm or humor coated insults. No, this was one demon that not even the Winchester's were geared to take on. There family problems had always been the biggest monster in there lives, and yet, it was the one thing they never tried to get rid of.

That night Sam had skipped dinner and went straight to bed. However, no sleep had come to the boy that night, at least not without horrible nightmares tacked along with it. The following day had started just as miserable as yesterday had end.

Sam had gotten up early, which wasn't a problem since he was wake for most of the night anyway, and snuck off to school before either Dean or his dad had gotten up. In class, his teacher had yelled at him for the first time for falling sleep during his lecture. And after school Sam had to take an alternate route home just to avoid the black Impala that had once again shown up at his school to give him a ride.

He felt bad for leaving Dean to look for him at his school, but he couldn't stand the thought of another silent car ride. Sam was glad that when he got home the carport was empty. It allowed him to go up to his room without being intercepted and plop down on his bed to think things over.

But unfortunately for Sam, nothing even seemed to work out the way he planned.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam gave a start and jerked his head toward the door. "Dean? What are you doing here?"

"Dude I live here."

Sam scoffed at Dean remarked, "That's not what a meant. I saw the Impala at school. I thought it was you."

"Nah, dad decided to pick you up today. Looks like you had other plans though," Dean's assessment of the situation was casual but changed as a thought dawned on him, "and seeing how you thought it was me, I'm not sure whether to be insulted that you were trying to get away from me or impressed that you were able to sneak away from dad."

"It's not you, Dean" Sam sighed as he rolled over on his side with his back facing his brother, "I just want to be left alone right now."

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded even though Sam couldn't see him, "Sure Sammy."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, though he didn't dare fall asleep. He knew what awaited him there. He couldn't handle seeing his newest nightmare, not again. He was just about to nestle into his torturous thoughts when suddenly the other side of the bed dipped down before evening out again. Sam quickly rolled onto his back and propped on his elbows to see what had caused such an effect.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" his big brother replied has he folded and wedged a fluffed pillow behind his head and lend back.

"I thought I told you I wanted to be alone."

"You did," Dean grinned, "I decided to be alone with you. Twinkie?"

Sam wrinkled up his nose at the offered cream-filled yellow sponge, "No thanks, I'm not hunger."

"Lair," Dean frowned and sat the pastry down beside him, "you didn't eat anything last night and I'm willing to bet you fell asleep during lunch."

"So." Sam pouted knowing that his brother wasn't going to buy any lie that he made up at this point.

"So?" Dean asked incredulously, "You're going to be thinking so when your ass passes out from starvation and I'm stuck dragging it home."

"It's only two meals, Dean. I seriously doubt I'm going to pass out from two messed meals."

"Three. Don't forget breakfast," Dean picked up and offered the twinkie again, "It is the most important meal of the day."

"That must be why you eat brownies for breakfast then," the youngest Winchester pushed the spongy cake away again.

"Hey! Brownies are good for you. Breakfast of champions."

Sam rolled his eyes and plopped back down on his own pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He use to use this tactic to help him fall asleep at night. He'd aimlessly stare up at the ceiling and count sheep, but now he slept on his stomach with his head pressed into his pillow. It helped stop the images from coming to his eyes while he was awake, but nothing could prevent the images from resurfacing in his dreams.

Sam shut his eyes and squeezed them closed.

"You can't keep going on like this Sam. It'll kill you."

"I know." Sam whispered without moving.

Dean's brow furrowed at Sam's replied before being replayed with an angry glare. He realized that his brother hadn't said 'I know it can't go on like this', but that 'I know it will end up killing me'.

"So that's it then?" Sam's eyes flew up at the angry tone in Dean's voice, "You're just gonna sit here and let this thing win. You're just gonna give up. That's pathetic, Sam. So you've seen more then dad or I have, isn't that more reason to fight?"

"You don't understand," Sam's soft voice was low but didn't go unheard.

"Try."

Sam continued to brood in silence. His eyes fixed straight ahead but didn't look to being staring at anything in the room.

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean's fist hit the top of the night stand, "If you're not going to tell us what happened, then how are we supposed to help? And the thing that killed mom, don't you want to see that bastard dead?"

Dean paused to study how miserable Sam had grown during the course of his little out-burst. "If you keep us in the dark, Sam, then all that happened yesterday will have been for nothing. Everything that we've done up to this point will be useless. And that thing, that monster that killed mom…"

"Is me."

Dean frozen at the sound of his brother's small voice and wondered if he had heard correctly. "What?"

"It's my fault. I'm no better than he is." Sam's head hung downwards as his shaggy hair made a perfect shield for his eyes to hide behind.

"Whoa, what are you talking about?" Dean's brow crinkled in confusion.

"It's nothing, never mind."

"No, I don't think so," Dean grabbed Sam's arm to keep him from turning over and falling back into a laying position, "What do you mean this is your fault?"

"Let go!" Sam growled and slapped his brother's hand away, "I didn't tell you or dad because I knew you'd both hate me. I didn't tell you that I'm the reason mom died. If it wasn't for me she'd still be here, and you'd have a mom, Dean, and dad would have his wife. He killed her because of me. It's my fault."

Dean listened with wide eyes. Is this what his brother had been thinking ever since they left the hypnotist's office?

"Stop." Dean lunged forward and grabbed Sam's face with both hands and gave it a shake. He waited until Sam's glassy eyes locked with his before he continued. "Now you listen to me. Don't you darn blame yourself for this. If you want someone to blame, then blame the thing that killed her, but don't you ever think that this is your fault. Do you understand me?"

Sam tried to shake his head negatively and look down, "He said so, Dean. He said she died protecting me. If I had never been born…"

"Stop!" Dean's command held no room for argument. "Just stop it, Sam."

Dean just stared at Sam for a minute before the features of his face soften into a small smile. "If you had never been born, Sam, then where would I be?"

Sam blinked at the tears in his eyes and knitted his brow in confusion.

"If you were never born, Sam, then who would I have to pick on and poke fun at? Whose butt would I have to pull out of the fire when he gets into trouble, which you always do." Dean thumbed away one of the rogue tears that had managed to slip from Sam's eyes. "Maybe mom would have been here, but maybe not. There's really no way of knowing. But to blame yourself for what happened; it's stupid man."

Dean released Sam's head when he saw that some of what he was saying was starting to sink in. "You couldn't kill anybody, Sammy. 'Cause I seem to remember a certain little boy who couldn't stop crying when his dad killed a rabbit on his first camping trip"

"What? I did not." Sam looked embarrassed but knew that backing down to Dean would mean an automatic forfeit to his challenge.

"Dude, I thought I was going to have to throw you into the creek to keep you from drowning us all."

Sam opened his mouth to reply but closed it back and glared at the smirking older man. "You're such a jerk."

Dean just continued to grin smugly and reached for the TV control. The both of them sat in comfortable silence while Dean flipped through the channels. After a few minutes of channel surfing, Dean sat the remote down and got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," Dean replied as he stretched, "I'll be back. Matlock starts in ten minutes so don't even think about changing the channel. Oh, and eat something wouldja? You're scrawny enough already."

Dean left the room with a glare from Sam, but stopped to look back at him once outside the door. He watched as Sam eyed the twinkie that was sitting next to him for a moment before gently picking it up and peeling away the wrapper. Satisfied, Dean left the room and went down into the kitchen.

It didn't take long for Dean to find what he was looking for. He thought his father would be home by now, and sure enough, here he sat at that kitchen table staring blankly at a mini cassette tape.

"Looks like Sam skipped out on your ride home just like you thought, dad."

John didn't jump when Dean spoke. Years of hunting had trained his senses to pick up and detect the least little movement. There wasn't much that could get the jump on the oldest Winchester adult anymore.

John nodded thoughtfully before looking up at Dean when he took a seat at the table. "Did you get him to talk to you?"

Dean looked like he was thinking the question over before he replied with a yes. He thought back to everything that he and his brother had only just discussed moments ago. He knew that it wasn't all the information that his father wanted, but the fact that it was something to do with that night, something that was personal to Sam, would have been something his father would have wanted to know. Their father would be furious if he knew that the thing had spoken to Sam. That it had blamed Sam for their mother's death. But Dean also knew that his little brother didn't want his father to know. He knew that Sam was protecting dad's feelings as well as his own by not saying anything.

But what was Dean supposed to do? He knew the next question his father would ask. He would want Dean to tell him what Sam said and he would have to oblige, because he was daddy's good little solider. He always did what he was told without question and took whatever his father said to heart. However, there was also something else that Dean was.

"What did he tell you?" came John's predictable question.

First and foremost, Dean was something that he had been longer than he had been his father's solider.

"Sorry dad, all I could get him to talk about was his school work," Dean cracked a small smile at his father, "you know how we Winchester's are. We're stubborn by nature."

First and foremost, Dean was a brother.

John nodded grimly and flipped the small cassette tape around in his hand, "I think—I made a mistake, Dean."

Dean just sat in his seat and looked at his father. It was odd to hear those words from his mouth. Sure, he knew that his father had his own faults, who didn't? But to know something and hear something is two different things.

John sighed and stood to leave the table, but Dean stopped him.

"How are we supposed to fix this?"

His father ran a hand through his hair before replying, "Sometimes, Dean, when something is broken it can't be fixed so easily."

Dean glared down at the table, "Then I'll fix it."

Had Dean not been staring at the table he would have seen the short smile that didn't so often grace John's face and heard his quiet reply, "You always do." And then John left towards his room.

Dean continued to sit at the table. He would fix things. Dean always fixed things when it came to his little brother. He had stopped Sam's crying on their camping trip by telling him that the rabbit had gone to play with all the other rabbits in heaven. He had fixed Sam's bully problem when they both attended high school together. He had always made sure that he was close to Sam on a hunt to make sure nothing happened. And now he would take care of this new problem.

Dean rose from the chair with new found resolve and headed back up to Sam's room. There was work to be done, and plus, Matlock started in two minutes.

---

Fin!

A/N: And so it is done! I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.