Chapter One ~ "Nightmares and Victims"
"Woah, I know this room. It's me and Sammy's room from that one motel in Albuquerque
from when we were younger," Dean thought, recognizing the fluffy red carpeting and the end
tables that were littered with hotel candy wrappers - their dad's version of dessert from the past
few nights. He saw his little brother, Sam, sitting at the desk in the corner, drawing.

"Everything seems the same, but something" Dean noticed while walking over to peer
at whatever Sam was working on.

Silently, he laughed at the brightly-colored rainbow and clouds his brother was drawing.
"Ah, Sammy, six years old and already on your way to wuss-dom."

The phone in the kitchen started to ring, "Must be dad," Dean heard his younger self say while
putting out an arm to stop his little brother already on his way to answer it (Little? He had
forgotten how small Sam used to be before he had that big growth spurt one summer.). "Wait,
Sammy," he ordered, "Dad said to wait for two rings and then he'd call back, remember?"

Little Sam frowned and returned to the desk while Dean went into the kitchen to get the phone.

He waited for the next call and picked it up on the first ring.
There was a buzz and some weird clicking noises.
"Dad? Hello?" No response.
A sudden scream ripped through the eerie slence.

"Sammy?!" Dean crossed the kitchen with three long strides expecting to be in the door
frame and about to find the monster causing his brother's fright, but finding himself back at the
table instead, the phone still in his hand.

"This isn't right," Dean thought, "this isn't what happened. I think I would've
remembered Sammy getting hurt!"

The screaming continued and Dean, throwing the phone to the ground, walked faster and faster
to the point of running. Each time he reached the doorway, he was back at the kitchen counter,
phone in hand, filled with utter rage and panic.

"Sam! Sammy?!"

The floor continued to grow underneath Dean's feet as if someone had put a treadmill there and
decided to turn it on at just the wrong moment as some sort of sick joke. The screaming seemed
to have stopped, making Dean panic further. He kept running, cursing himself for ever making
fun of Sam's high-pitched scream.

"There, there, Samantha, it's only a fake skeleton," he'd say, patting his brother on the back.

He ran and ran to no avail, still panting his brother's name until he felt a hand shove his
right shoulder, forcing him to fall and slam his head against the tiled floor and awake in a
completely different hotel room, Sam's hand shaking the same shoulder.

"Hey Dean!"

Big Sammy sat back on his bed after seeing that Dean was finally awake, a concerned look on
his face.
"What was that about, you okay?"

"What was what about man and why the hell'd you wake me up? Need to catch up on my
beauty sleep," Dean said, rubbing his eyes.

"Dude, you were screaming like a little girl."

"I was?"

Sam rolled his eyes then jumped at the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Oh come on!," Dean complained, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face, "Who
the hell calls at," he looked at the clock on the wall, "9:30 in the morning?"

Sam got up from the bed and answered his cell on the dresser. "Oh, hey Bobby."
Dean sat up and waited.

"Another one?" Sam grabbed a pen and wrote something on a yellow notepad that read "Country
Music Inn" at the top of it. "Yeah, okay. Alright we'll check it out." He flipped his phone closed.

"So another kid commit suicide?" Dean guessed.

"Yeah, there's definitely something going on in this town. That's the fifth kid this month. Bobby
got the address," Sam said, holding up the notepad.

"Well then, let's go get our new aliases," Dean got up and added with a grin, "You be
Bonnie, I'll be Clyde."


Slamming down her searing knife into the cutting board, Mrs. Stokes sighed in utter
annoyance at the sound of the doorbell ringing for the umpteenth time. She took off her apron
and threw it down on the counter top.

"Probably more visitors coming to 'mourn' Julius," she thought as she walked over and
opened the door, "As if casseroles will bring my son back." She was surprised, instead, to find
two strange men at her doorstep.

The shorter of the two men, who also happened to be tan and handsome, smiled.

"Hello miss, I'm Officer Armstrong," he said, flashing a badge. "This is Dr. Hill," he
indicated the taller brunette. "Are you Mrs. Stokes?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, her heart skipping a beat.
"How can I help you?"

"Well Mrs. Stokes, we're investigating the recent suicides of the children in this area
including your son, Julius. We're here to ask you a few questions."

Mrs. Stokes nodded slowly and motioned for them to come in, closing the door after they
had. She took a seat on the chair in the living room; Dean and Sam, the couch across from it.

"So what do you need to know?" she asked crossly.

"Well, first off, how exactly did your son kill himself?" Dean inquired. Sam elbowed his brother in the ribs, Dean was never good at being subtle.

Mrs. Stokes frowned in confusion, "I've already told the police that." she said.

"This is a separate investigation, ma'am," Sam cut in, ignoring his brother's angry glare, "being run by social services."
"Social services?!" she cried, "Why I never - -"
"If you'll just answer a few questions, this'll all be over a lot quicker," Sam said forcefully, but
not unkindly. "Very well," she replied, sighing.

Mrs. Stokes suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact and looked at her hands in her lap
instead. "Well, that morning, I found him on the kitchen floor. He seemed to have stabbed
himself in the chest with one of my cooking knives," she looked up at the two men, tears
forming in her eyes. "The other officers said there were no signs of murder, no prints were
found. I think they said, from how deep the wound was, that it could not have been an accident
either, but it had to have been!" She looked back and forth from officer to doctor. "An
eight-year-old doesn't commit suicide!"

"Were there any signs before Julius died, Mrs. Stokes? Had he been acting differently at
all?" Dean interjected.

"No," Mrs. Stokes shook her head. "He was his usual happy self."

Sam noticed a little girl in the next room over quietly playing with her dolls. "Is that Julius'
sister?" he asked.

"Yeah that's Katherine."
"May I speak with her for a moment?"
When she nodded, he walked over to Katherine and spoke to her in whispers.

Dean continued his conversation with Mrs. Stokes.
"What was going on the day before Julius died?"

"It was his and Katherine's birthday. We had a party." Tears started to trail down her
cheeks, she looked at her daughter and Dean followed her gaze. "I even had a magician come to
perform. Julius loved magicians, he said he always wanted to meet one in person." She turned
back to Dean and smiled a little, "He really believed in magic."

"What was the magician's name?" Dean inquired, wondering briefly why such a pretty
lady was still single.

"Umm...Charles Hayworth, I think. Oh, wait, I have his business card, I'll go get it." She got up
and went into the next room.

A moment later, Mrs. Stokes was back with a purse in one hand and the card in the other.
She handed the card over. Dean took it as he stood, glancing over at Sam who was just departing
from the little girl. He looked back at Mrs. Stokes. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Stokes, I
think that's all the information we need. Am I right, doctor?" Sam nodded and added,
"We're sorry for your loss ma'am, if you think of anything else, give us a call," he handed her a
piece of paper with his cell phone number on it.

Mrs. Stokes had just closed her front door when Dean asked, "Well doctor, have fun
playing dolls with Katherine?"

"I was trying to find out if she knew anything about Julius' death," Sam said as they
walked down the front driveway. "Figured she might have seen something, but came up with
nothing, you?"

"The day before Julius killed himself, they had a birthday party and momma got him
a magician. What do you think?"

"I don't know," Sam said, scratching his head. "I've never heard of children this young killing
themselves before."

"Well, according to his business card," Dean said before getting into the Impala, "this
Charles Hayworth guy doesn't live too far from here, what do you say we go pay him a visit?"