It was a different nightmare this time, he could tell. Sam Winchester watched his older brother twist and turn in his sleep. That was different than all the times before where Dean had moaned and tossed just a little. It seemed like Dean was running for his life in dreamland.

Sam wished it all would stop, that it would all end. Dean was changed and there was nothing that Sam could do about it. His brother was worrying him. There was excessive drinking, cussing, and rude jokes. Sam knew that was all just a coverup to what Dean was actually going through. It still hurt anyway. What hurt wasn't what Dean was doing, it was the fact that Dean was going through it all in the first place.

There was nothing Sam could do to make his brother feel any better.

Sure, Dean had disclosed that he remembered everything from Hell. Yes, he had told Sam that he had been there for forty years. Dean had even told Sam that he had tortured souls all that time. Was Dean letting Sam know what was really bothering him? No.

Deep down inside, Sam knew that Dean withdrawing himself from Sam was his means of protecting his little brother.

That didn't make Sam any less upset, though. It just made everything worse.

So now Sam was sitting on his bed, awake, watching his brother go through the agony and misery of Hell one more time.

Sam decides that it's the last time.

He was going to put a stop to this, one way or another.


It took two weeks of constant praying, wishful thinking, and drawing all luck for Sam's miracle to appear. It was in the form of an angel. An angel that could play the part of a Holy Tax Accountant. It was Castiel, an angel of the Lord.

"Sam," Castiel spoke simply as he appears the night, two weeks after Sam's decision, "Your prayers have been heard. What do you need?"

"I-" this was hard for him to say, because Sam knew that if Dean was awake, he would never agree to this, "I want you to fix Dean."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, tilting his head curiously.

"I want you to heal Dean," Sam swallowed as he paced in front of the angel, "I want you to heal Dean to how he was before all this happened."


"Why? Because I don't want him to suffer anymore," Sam stopped and stared at him, "and neither should you! Don't you care about him? Don't you feel anything toward him? You're the one who pulled him out of Hell!"

"I do care about Dean."

"Then help him! Take the pain away from him!"

"If you wish."

Castiel walked over to Dean's bed silently. Dean was sound asleep, but living through one of his nightmares once more. Sam swallowed again and reminded himself that this was right. He was going to make Dean happy. This is how it's supposed to be.

The angel sat down on Dean's bed and gazed upon him. Sam could see the compassion in the angel's usual stoic eyes. Sadness was mingling with the compassion.

"I've watched over you since you were born, Dean," Castiel spoke, "Your mother Mary wanted me to protect you, and so I did. You're a good man and I am very proud of you. It is time for you to be rewarded."

Without further ado, Castiel lifted a hand and placed it on Dean's forehead. Immediately, Dean's breathing settled down and his body went back into a peaceful lull. Castiel held his hand on Dean's forehead for a moment longer and then stood up, facing Sam.

"It is done."

"What exactly did you do?"

"I released him from his burden. I erased his memories," Castiel explained cryptically, "You can start over. You can have your brother back, Sam."

"What?" Sam breathed in a gasp, "You took away all his memories?"

"Yes. Take care of him, Sam."

With that, Castiel disappeared.

A moment later, Dean woke up in a start.

"Dean!" Sam rushed over to him.

"What?" Dean asked, confused, "Where am I? Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean, it's Sam," Sam sat beside him on the bed where Castiel had been a few moments before, "What do you remember, man?"

"Uh. . .not much," Dean rubbed his head with obvious frustration, "I can't really remember anything. I know who you are, I know my name, but everything else. . .I'm going blank."

"That's okay," Sam consoled him, immediately, "We'll figure it out."

Inside, Sam panicked. What Castiel had done. . .Dean lost his memories! This was both good and bad. Good part, Dean didn't have Hell trapped in his mind forever. Bad part, Dean didn't remember anything. It was definitely a mixed blessing.

"Okay," Dean frowned, unintentionally giving Sam a sad puppy look that made the younger Winchester melt in compassion toward his sibling. There was nothing that Sam wouldn't do for Dean. They were going to make this work for the better. He promised himself that for Dean's sake.


Sam let Dean sleep in the next morning, knowing that Dean needed all the rest he could get.

The younger Winchester brother made himself busy by going out and getting breakfast for them. Chocolate chip pancakes for Dean, french toast for Sam, and coffee all around. As soon as he got back, Dean was awake. Sam was in the kitchen at the table, getting everything ready when he saw Dean walking toward the table. It was amazing how much different Dean looked. It was as if he had shed ten years off. He looked more innocent and less gruff. He was still muscular and lean, but not in the bad-boy swagger sort of style. The scars looked less mean, and more noble. Like Dean had earned them in some way other than fighting demons. What the most astounding part was had to be Dean's face. The older Winchester now adopted the innocent puppy traits that Sam had always naturally possessed. He was so innocent that it was adorable.

It was wrong, but so right in so many ways.

"Mornin', Dean," Sam greeted him, getting over the initial shock of seeing a changed man before his eyes, "sleep well?"

"I had a weird dream last night," Dean answered, rubbing a hand over his eyes and fixing Sam with a confused gaze.

"Yeah?" Sam's breath caught in his throat, "What about?"

"There was this man and he said that he was looking out for me," Dean went to where the food was sitting and picked up his mug of coffee that Sam had picked up, "He told me this when I was asleep. He said that Mom had prayed for him to watch over me and that it was my time to be rewarded. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Uh. . ." Sam paused, "No. I don't think so. I really don't have a clue."

"Oh, okay," Dean sipped his coffee, "Hey, this is pretty good."

"Wait til you try the pancakes."

Inside, Sam was going over the facts. Dean remembers the important things. Himself, Sam, what Castiel had said. . .so what all did he remember exactly?

"So, uh, Dean?"


"What do you remember?"

"Didn't you ask me that last night?"

"Yeah, but I need to know what all you remember, like a list of things."

"It's very short," Dean said forking a piece of pancake, "I remember you, Mom, Dad, Uncle Bobby. . .my car. . .all kinds of good memories. For some reason, I can't remember anything bad."

Because Castiel wanted you to remember the good things.

"Really? Well, that's interesting," Sam mused over his coffee.


Then it hit him. Dean remembered their father. Did he remember anything about hunting or what Dad did before he died?

"Dean," Sam swallowed, "You said you remembered Dad, right?"


"What did Dad do? Ya know, for a job?"

"I-uh-I can't remember that. It's all fuzzy."


Dean was left with no knowledge of the darkness and evil. Not even hunting or getting rid of that evil.

Sam couldn't hunt anymore with Dean like this.

This was the turning point.


A/N: Should I continue?