Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing, encouraging, and letting me eat your time with my many mistakes. Thank you Gredelina1 for being my sounding board and the first person to hear these chapters. Thank you all for sharing this journey with me. You support means to much to me. It keeps me going when the words don't flow.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Despite his eagerness to rediscover some of his missing memories, Sam was nervous as they drove into Lawrence. The feeling was apparently shared by John and Dean, as they exchanged dark glances and John's fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel.

They drove through the streets, coming to a stop outside a neat house with painted trim and a well-tended garden. Dean and John climbed out, but Sam hesitated before following. The weight of what was about to happen had settled over him and made him nervous. He wished Jessica was there. She would know what to say and do to reassure him.

Dean peered through the window at him, his brow creased with concern. "You okay?"

Sam realized he must look ridiculous, cowering in the car, so he opened the door and climbed out. "I'm fine," he reassured Dean.

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but the door to the house flew open then and a woman stepped onto the porch. She was dark-skinned, and stout, with a scarf holding her hair back. As she came closer though, walking down the path to them, Sam saw her eyes were kind and her smile wide.

"Well, look at you," she said, her eyes fixed on Sam. "Didn't you grow up tall. And handsome as anyone." She almost looked like she wanted to pinch his cheek. She laughed and turned away to greet John and Dean. "John Winchester, good to see you again, and, Dean… Well now, you're welcome."

Sam frowned and looked from her to Dean with a creased brow.

"Missouri is a psychic," Dean explained. "She can speak with spirits and read energies, but she can also… read your mind," he finished quietly.

"Seriously?" Sam blurted.

Missouri laughed again. "Yes."

Sam's hands curled into nervous fists. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was being around a mind reader. He wasn't hiding anything exactly, but that didn't mean he wanted his mind rooted through.

"I don't share what I hear, though," she said airily. "And I don't judge."

Sam realized she was responding to his thoughts and he fought back a wince. Her words had been reassuring, but the action behind them wasn't so much. Again, Sam wished Jessica was there. She wasn't though, and the only options available to Sam were to suck it up and go into that house with a mind reader or lose the chance to regain some of what he had lost.

"Shall we go in?" she asked, and then turned and trotted up the path and steps into the house without waiting for an answer.

John followed her but Dean hung back. "Are you okay with this?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Sam said with forced cheer. "I'll be fine."

"Missouri's a little out there, but she's a good person. She meant what she said: she doesn't share and she doesn't judge. She's heard all kinds of things from me, but never told anyone."

Sam wondered what those things were, but he didn't ask. Dean had as much a right to privacy as he did.

They walked along the path and up the steps into the house. It was a little dim inside, and despite the size of the room, the living room felt claustrophobic with its heavy drapes and dark furniture.

"Let's get some light in here," Missouri said, drawing back the drapes and flicking on wall sconce light fittings. "I have to create the atmosphere for my work," she explained. "People want to feel like they're getting their money's worth from me."

"What do you do?" Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch beside John. Dean took his other side, bracketing him in.

Missouri raised an eyebrow at John. "Did you tell him anything about me at all?"

"I told her you might be able to help," John said.

She shook her head. "John Winchester, you were born with a steel trap, not a mouth. No wonder the poor boy's having trouble." She turned to Sam. "I read palms and energies. I consult the talking board and commune with spirits. Basically, I provide woo-woo to the good people of Lawrence."

Sam smiled in spite of himself. Jessica would get a kick out of this setup. She had always been a little out there in her beliefs. Though, he supposed it wasn't 'out there' when it was now being proven as real. He couldn't wait to tell her.

Missouri beamed at him. "Now, Sam, we need to talk about what we're going to do," she said. "My idea is to try hypnotizing you, to see if we can dig up some of those memories."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"You need to be aware, though, that doing this may not just bring up good memories. They don't come with labels, and when I pull a thread, there's no knowing what's going to unravel and rise to the surface."

"I understand," Sam said. "I need to try, though. I have to get at least some of it back."

She surveyed him speculatively. "Why?"

Sam wished she had asked the question when he was alone, without John and Dean listening attentively at his sides. He decided to answer honestly though, as she would know if he was lying. "I am missing part of myself," he said. "If James had been my dad, it wouldn't have mattered that I couldn't remember those years, because I had a lifetime of other memories. He wasn't though. He was the thing that stole me. They, Dean and John, have these memories of me, and I have nothing of them. I feel like I am only partway there all the time. I don't want to start anew with them. I want to build on what we already had. I can't do that until I remember them properly."

John started to speak, but Missouri held up a hand, effectively silencing him. Her lips pressed together contemplatively for a moment and then she said. "But what about negative memories of the other man? He took you, and if you remember that, it might scare you. It might ruin the good memories you have of him now."

Sam thought of the diaries. "They've already been spoiled. The man I thought was my father, the man I loved, didn't exist. It was all a pretense he put on for the world. He was a Shtriga all along."

Dean shifted at his side, his shoulder brushing against Sam's. Sam took comfort in it. He was there, John was, too; they would help him through this.

"Okay then," Missouri said. "In that case, let's get to work. Would you rather we did this alone?"

Sam heard a sharp breath being sucked in on his right, and he knew John was unwilling to leave. He may have been more comfortable alone, but they deserved to be there with him. This was as much about them as it was Sam.

"I'd like them to stay," he said.

Missouri nodded. "John, Dean, you're going to need to park your butts somewhere else. Sam needs to get comfortable."

They both stood and moved to sit on the other smaller couch.

"Do I need to lie down or something?" Sam asked.

Missouri smiled. "Not unless you want to. You just need to make yourself comfortable."

Sam shifted and leaned back against the couch cushions.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

Feeling a little self-conscious, Sam did as she bid and tried to even out his breathing.

"That's right, nice deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth," she encouraged.

Sam felt himself relaxing deeper as he drew slow breaths. His muscles became loose and his heart slowed.

"Well done," she praised. "Now, Sam, I am going to count down from five, and when I reach zero, you're going to be in a state of deep hypnosis. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Sam said, his voice sounding distant to his ears.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Zero. Can you hear me, Sam?"

"I can hear you."

"I want you to go back, before college, before James, go back all the way to when you were very young. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Sam said dully.

"What do you see, Sam?"

"Dean," Sam said, his voice calm, happy. "I see Dean."

"What's Dean doing?"

Sam smiled again. "He's putting on his shoes… We're going swimming…"

Sam was excited. This was the big day, the biggest day. Today he was going to show his dad how good he'd gotten at swimming.

Dean had been teaching him, and even Dean, who was the best swimmer there was, said he was really good now. He'd been practicing forever, and it was hard to do. He'd been scared at first, not wanting to take his feet off the bottom, but when he'd seen Dean splashing up and down whole pool, he'd known he had to learn, too. Dean said he could do it, so he tried.

It was scary, letting the water hold you up instead of your feet, and sometimes he couldn't stay up. He would sink under and the water would get in his mouth and up his nose. It was gross. But Dean came and saved him. He held Sam's hands and pulled him along until Sam knew just what to do to float. Once he could float, it got easier. He could move in the water, splashing his arms and legs and going up and down. Dean said he was the fastest learner he had ever seen, but Sam knew that was because he had such a good teacher. Dean could teach anyone to be the best at anything because he was so clever.

And now Dad was home. He was going to come see Sam swim as soon as he finished his work stuff. Sam wanted to be ready, to practice a little more, so they were going to swim now. But first Sam had to wait until Dean had his shoes on.

Dean didn't tie his laces, and that wasn't fair because he always made Sam tie his, but it didn't matter because they were going swimming. "Okay," Dean said. "Let's go."

Sam tried to open the door, but it was fiddly and heavy. Dean smiled as he pushed Sam's hand out of the way and opened it. Sam couldn't wait till he was big like Dean so he could do that stuff on his own. But then the door was open and Sam was running out. He passed the doors and ran through the hole that led to the pool. The smell of the water tickled his nose but he didn't mind. He liked the smell as it meant swimming.

Sam kicked his shoes off and ran to the steps that took him into the water, but then Dean shouted, "Hey, Sammy stop a minute."

Sam couldn't stop though. He was going too fast, and he was too excited. He knew Dean would tell him off, but he wouldn't really be mad. He would just be pretending because he was the big brother and that's what they did.

Then he was skidding. His arms spun at his sides as he tried to get his balance back, but he couldn't. He shouted as he fell down. His back scraped the ground hard and it burned, then there was more pain. Something sharp cut his arm, making it bleed. It hurt but Sam didn't cry. He was being brave.

Dean ran towards him, and kneeled down beside him. His hands grabbed the cut on Sam's arm and made it burn.

"It's okay, Sammy, It's okay," he said in a wobbly voice and then he shouted, "Dad!"

Sam looked around and saw his dad appear. He dropped the things in his hands and ran to them, his voice breathy as he said, "Sammy."

He got down beside Sam, moving Dean back, and put the towel around Sam's bleeding arm. It was tight and it hurt, but Sam still didn't cry because his dad was picking him up and then they were running back to their room.

Dean didn't come, but Sam didn't worry because Sam had made a big mess on the ground and in the water, a big red, bloody mess, and Dean was probably cleaning it up. And Sam was with his dad, and his dad was the fastest, strongest man there was, and he was saying, "It's okay, Sammy, you're okay. I've got you." And Sam knew he was okay, because his dad was there and nothing bad could happen now.

It was one of those special nights when Dad was home at bedtime. Even though he made them go to bed early when Dean let them go late, it was okay because he would tuck Sam in with the special way he had, making him like a caterpillar in the book Dean read him, all squished inside. Sam knew Dean liked it best, too. He was much happier when Dad was there at bedtime.

Sam had brushed his teeth extra slow to make bedtime last, until Dad had called, "You fall asleep in there, Sammy?" Sam had laughed and the toothpaste had gone everywhere. Dean had come in and helped Sam clean up his face with a washcloth, and then he'd dragged him out of the bathroom with one hand, and he was laughing too.

Dad was waiting at the end of Sam's bed, and when Sam got on and bounced his way excitedly to the top, he smiled his special smile that he saved just for Sam and Dean.

"You boys ready to sleep?" he asked.

"Nope," Sam said happily.

"No?" Dad asked with surprise. "That's too bad. If you don't sleep, we can't go anywhere tomorrow, and I had a surprise planned."

"Yeah?"

Dean laughed and Sam thought he must already know what the surprise was. It wasn't fair. Just because he was the oldest.

"Yeah," Dad said. "We were going to see Ellen and Bill and Jo, but if you're going to be too tired, we can't go."

"I won't be too tired," Sam said quickly. "Promise." He loved going to Ellen and Bill's. Bill let him sit on the special high chairs and Ellen gave him juice in a real glass like Dean.

"You'll need to settle down and sleep early if you don't want to fall right off the chair, asleep," Dad warned.

"I will," Sam said. "Right now."

He quickly shuffled down the bed and lay down with his eyes closed. Dad and Dean laughed, and Dean said, "You're not fooling us, Sammy. You have to be really asleep."

Sam opened his eyes and scowled. "I'm trying!"

Dad smiled as he pushed back Sam's hair. "I know you are, kiddo. How about we tuck you in and you fall asleep really?"

"Yeah," Sam said, grinning.

He put his hands down beside him and Dad started tucking the blankets under him, starting at his feet and working his way upwards. When he was wrapped right up, Dad stepped back and moved to Dean's bed. Dean didn't like the caterpillar blankets, but he let Dad pull his up to his chin and tuck them around his arms.

"Right, boys, I've got some stuff to do for work, but I'll be back soon. If you're asleep before I get back, we'll go to see Ellen and Bill, okay?"

"Okay," Sam said, yawning. Now that he was tucked right up, he was tired. His eyes drifted shut and he heard Dad and Dean saying the things they had to always say before Dad went anywhere, the thing about keeping doors locked and calling Pastor Jim, and Sam's favorite part. "Most important, watch out for Sammy."

Sam couldn't wait till he was bigger, then Dad would tell him about locking doors and he'd say, "Watch out for Dean," in that same special, serious voice.

Sam felt sleepiness coming and he snuggled deeper in his blankets. Tomorrow would be special. Dad would take them in the car and they would see Ellen and Bill, and Dean would be happier because Dad was there. It would all be okay.

It was dark outside and in the room, and Sam woke up breathing hard. He was afraid. He'd had the scary dream of the monster again. He looked at the other bed, but his dad wasn't there. He was working again.

Though he tried really hard not to cry, his face was wet and his eyes stung. Beside him in the big bed, Dean was sleeping with his mouth open. Sam felt better with his brother there, because he knew he would take care of him, but then it occurred to him that Dean could only watch out for him if he was awake. The monster could creep out from under the bed and grab Sam, and Dean wouldn't know.

Sam reached over and shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean," he hissed, scared to make too much noise in case it woke the monster up, too. "Dean!"

Dean rolled over and yawned. "What's up, Sammy?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"The bed monster," Sam whispered.

Dean woke up properly then. He sat up and rubbed his eyes then turned on the light next to the bed. "There's nothing there, Sammy, I promise."

"How do you know if you don't look?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed. "Okay. If I look, will you go back to sleep?"

"Yes," Sam promised, crossing his fingers behind his back.

Dean climbed out of the bed. Sam curled into a ball, scared that Dean was going to disappear any minute. Dean bent down and pulled back the sheet covering the bottom of the bed. Sam held his breath as he waited.

"Nothing there," Dean said. "Just dust bunnies, and they can't hurt anyone."

"Promise?" Sam said doubtfully.

"I promise," Dean said. "Do you want to look, too?"

"No!" Sam said, his eyes getting wide enough to sting.

Dean climbed back in the bed and said. "It's okay, Sammy. Just me and you here. No monsters. I swear."

Sam uncurled from his ball and said, "Thank you, Dean."

"No problem," Dean said, mussing his hair. "Now, are you going to be able to go back to sleep now?"

Sam thought for a moment. He felt wide awake now. He'd never be able to fall asleep, even without the monster scaring him. He shook his head.

Dean sighed. "Okay. No sleep. What do you want to do?"

"Stories?" Sam said hopefully.

Dean grinned. "King Arthur?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yeah!"

Dean went to his duffel at the end of the bed and pulled out a battered book. He carried it back over to the bed and climbed in beside Sam, sitting close. He opened the book and started to read, "Many years ago, there was a king called Uther Pendragon…"

Sam giggled. "That's a funny name."

Dean sighed heavy and lowered the book to his lap. "You always say that, Sammy."

Sam shrugged. "It's always funny."

He looked up and saw that Dean was smiling with his eyes, even though his mouth was a straight line. Sam knew he wasn't really mad, so he didn't worry.

Dean picked up the book again and read aloud for Sam. "He had fought many times against the Saxons, who wanted to steal his land, and so he had many enemies…"

Sam leaned against Dean's arm and closed his eyes, listening to the story. Dean really was the best brother. He checked for monsters and he read the best stories. No one had a better brother than Sam.

Sam was fed up. He wanted to go play in the park, but Dean wouldn't let him. He said it wasn't safe for them, but Sam could see through the window and there were lots of other kids out there and grownups watching. If it was safe for them, why wasn't it safe for Sam and Dean?

But Dean didn't answer him when he asked. He just told Sam to watch his cartoons while he made dinner for them. Sam was hungry and he'd asked for SpaghettiOs but now that he could smell them, he didn't want them.

"Come sit, Sammy," Dean said, turning off the TV.

Sam grumbled as he got up and went to sit at the table. Dean poured him a glass of milk and went back to the stove.

"When's Dad gonna get back?" Sam asked. When Dad got back, they could play in the park all they liked because then it would be safe.

"Tomorrow," Dean said, bringing the pot over to the table.

"When?"

"I dunno," Dean said, pouring the smelly SpaghettiOs into the bowl in front of Sam. "He usually comes in pretty late though. Now, eat your dinner."

"Sam looked at the bowl of orange rings and shook his head. "I'm sick of SpaghettiOs."

Dean looked mad. "Well you're the one who wanted them."

"I want Lucky Charms."

"There's no more Lucky Charms," Dean said. Sam knew he was lying.

"I saw the box," Sam argued, mad that Dean was lying. If he lied, Dean told him off. It wasn't fair that no one was there to tell Dean off.

"Okay, maybe there is, but there's only enough for one bowl, and I haven't had any yet."

Sam just looked at him. Dean stared back for a moment and then he picked up Sam's bowl with an angry huff and dumped it into the trash. He came back and thumped the cereal box down in front of Sam.

Sam grabbed the box, and peered inside. Sitting on top of the pieces of cereal and the colorful marshmallows was the prize Sam had been waiting to get to. Dean wouldn't let him dig for it. He said it made germs. They had to eat it all to get to the prize.

He looked up and saw Dean watching him, his eyebrows low and his eyes sad.

Sam shook the prize out into his hand and held it out to Dean. "D'you want the prize?"

Dean's smiled as he took it. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam knew he was happy because it was Tygra, and Tygra was the best Thundercat there was.

Dean poured the cereal into a bowl for him and said, "Eat your dinner."

Sam spooned up the cereal and watched Dean turn the toy in his hand, his eyes happy. Sam liked it when Dean was happy better than anything.

Sam's eyes opened in the dim room and he stared up at the face of the man. He didn't know the man. It wasn't Dad or Bill, or Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby. It was a stranger, and Sam wasn't supposed to go near strangers. But Sam hadn't gone near him. He had come into Sam's bedroom and leaned over him.

"Dean?" he called, his voice shaky.

"It's okay, Richard," the man said. "You're going to be okay."

"My name's Sam," he said, wishing the man would go away.

The man smiled though, and said, "Well, Sam, I'm going to help you."

"Where's Dean?" Sam's eyes searched the room, but he couldn't see his brother. He was scared.

The man looked around, too, and when he looked back at Sam he was smiling in a creepy way. He pushed away Sam's blanket and picked him up. "Dean doesn't matter now. I'm going to take care of you."

"No!" Sam shouted. Dean mattered. He was Sam's big brother, his best friend, his protector. He was the one Sam had to listen to so he was safe. "Dean! Help me! Dean!"

The man carried him to the window and squeezed them through. The air outside was cold and it was very dark. Sam was really frightened.

He wanted Dean. He wanted Dad. He wanted to wake up and find out this was a scary dream the way the monster under the bed dream was.

Then he heard a voice and knew he was saved. "Sam! No! Sam!"

Dean! Dean was coming. But the man holding him ran fast, making Sam bounce as he carried him away, and he could hear Dean shouting, but he couldn't shout back anymore because he couldn't breathe and he couldn't see Dean now, and he thought maybe Dean wasn't going to be able to save him and he was so scared, and—

"Enough!" a new voice shouted, and Sam knew it so he clung to it, and then there was another voice saying, "One, Two, Three, Four, Five, wake up, Sam," and his eyes opened and he was back…

Back in Missouri's living room, Sam folded over himself and began to cry. He cursed the tears that dripped into his hands that covered his face, but he could no more control them than he could his own heartbeat.

Someone came to sit beside him, the seat cushion dipped, and an arm wound around his back. "You're okay." It Dean's voice, but for a moment Sam couldn't tell if it was the adult Dean or the child that had been committed to saving him. He wasn't sure if he was still trapped in the horrible nightmare world of memory.

"What the hell did you do to him?" John demanded.

"I know you're upset, John Winchester, so I'll ignore your tone," Missouri said patiently. "And you already know what I did. I warned him I could pull a wrong thread, and I did."

Dean's arm around him tightened and Sam tried to get himself under control. He was upsetting other people now. He drew in a shaky breath, wiped his hands over his face, and straightened. Dean's hand retreated to his side, and Sam cast him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Are you okay?" John asked intensely, his face as strained as it had been the day Sam took a spill by the pool.

"Yeah," Sam said. "It was just a lot, you know?"

"Yes, "John said seriously. "We know."

"Thank you, Missouri," Sam said sincerely. "It really helped."

She looked pleased but still a little concerned. Sam knew it was him she and they all were concerned for, so he cleared his throat and wiped a hand over his face again, removing the last traces of his tears.

The image of James bent over his bed came to him, but he pushed it away forcefully. He didn't want to dwell on that one twisted memory when there were more, better memories.

He smiled genuinely at Dean and then John. "Thank you, too. I understand better now."

They both looked perplexed. Sam wasn't sure how to explain to them what he meant. He had seen through those memories that he'd been blessed for the first four years of his life. He'd had the best brother and father anyone could have asked for. He had loved them so much.

It wasn't a magical Band-Aid. He didn't suddenly love them again the way he had when he was a child, but there was a connection that had been missing before. They were family, he could see that properly now. The years missed between them were meaningless, because they were together again now.

"Dean," John prompted, and Dean cast him a nervous look.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Nothing's wrong," John reassured. "Dean just has something to show you."

Looking uncertain, Dean reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something small. He held it out and placed it in Sam's outstretched hand.

Sam turned it over, his eyes burning with tears again."Is it the same one?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I held onto it."

Sam looked down at the plastic Thundercats toy in his hand and a tear slipped past his control and down his cheek. Dean had held onto it. For eighteen years, with their nomadic lifestyle, this piece of Sam had been kept, carried on Dean through what was probably an endless stream of motels and hunts.

Sam smiled. He had never really been completely lost.

So… There we go. They are ready to move onto the next phase as a family.

This story was a labor of love for me. It took a long time and it stretched me more than any other story has so far. The fact you have all supported me as much as you have has made every day it was a struggle worth it. As long as you guys are reading, I'll be sharing what I write.

Part Two will post very soon—just as soon as I come up with a summary ;-) It will be called Search On, and I hope you'll follow me there, as there is still so much story to tell and I want to share it with you all.

Until Part Two…

Clowns or Midgets xxx