"Your name is Sam Winchester, you were born May 2, 1983. You are currently 26 years of age. Your mother's name is Mary Winchester. She died in a car accident when you were six months old. Your father, John, is a Marine. Your brother, Dean, is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force. He is four years older than you and took care of you during your childhood when your father was away in the military. He followed in your father's footsteps while you made your own path with being accepted to Stanford with a free ride. At the age twenty-two, you murdered your girlfriend Jessica Moore and went on the run. Then you coerced your brother to join you, him having no knowledge of your crimes. Your girlfriend, Ruby Cassidy, was a further bad influence and Dean ended up killing her in self-defense when she tried to murder you. You were admitted to this facility days afterward. Do you have any recollection of these events, Mr. Winchester?"

Sam Winchester looked up from his hands that were resting atop the cold metal desk before him. His eyes were tired and there were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't bothered in glancing up when Jess was mentioned. There was no point in arguing his case. They wouldn't let him. They thought he was crazy. Who were they? The administrators of the mental facility that had taken his file and reviewed it, agreeing that he need to be put into the criminally insane ward. Sam hadn't had any say in anything since he was considered a criminal for a crime he had never committed. He hadn't seen Dean or anybody that he knew.

"No," Sam answered, staring at the female doctor in white without much emotion in his voice. It was the same answer he always gave.

"Well then, Mr. Winchester, that is a problem," the doctor, Dr. Belinda Matthews, said in response, "Your memory should be improving by now."

Sam looked back down at his hands, disinterested in what she was saying. All he had was his name and his memories of his actual life that they told him was a lie. He hadn't done anything wrong! Nothing in his memory came close to what Matthews had been preaching to him.

"It's not my memory," Sam shook his head, "What you say isn't true."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester. . .Sam. . .Sam, what I tell you is the truth. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Oh yeah?" Sam's head shot back up to glare at her with dark eyes, "Why should I take your word for anything? What you say doesn't match up to what's in my head. Explain that! You have to be lying because a person just doesn't create a set of memories in his head as detailed as mine!"

That was the most he had said in nearly a month to anybody. He had given up talking to the doctors once he realized that they were thoroughly convinced that he was off his rocker. Sam watched Matthews scribble notes down on a thin notepad inside his file. He couldn't read what it said from across the table, but he had a pretty good idea what it said.

"So, Sam, what is it that you remember about your life?" Matthews finally glanced up at him from her notepad, "Here's your opportunity to put me in my place. Tell me what you know."

"You won't believe me," Sam answered sullenly.

"Who says?"

Sam didn't reply immediately, but he did speak after a long moment of silence, "Jess died in a fire. I didn't kill her. Dean came after me to look for our father that had gone missing. Yeah, Ruby was a bad influence and Dean killed her to protect me."

"Hmm. . ." Matthews scribbled more down on her notepad, "and what did you--"

"Sorry, Dr. Matthews, but time's up," an orderly spoke through the door. The female doctor smiled at Sam, "Well, that's some progress, Sam. I'll be back as soon as possible so we can talk further."

Sam watched her leave and then the orderly from the door came inside the room and unchained him from the desk. Sam stood and stretched his legs before the orderlies led him back down the corridors to his cell.