That freaking rabbit was getting on his last nerve. If he twitched his nose one more time, Dean was going to get up and slowly bludgeon it. And he meant slowly. He wanted the little shit to see each blow coming.

"Dean, you need to finish your broccoli. You're a growing boy. Do you want to be short all your life?" Dean turned in the direction of the voice.

Madeline was sitting primly, with a slight frown on her very red lips. Sammy was munching on his last carrot, looking up and the blue, cloudless sky. Dean was trying to figure out where they were. He felt like he had known at some point in time, but now the location escaped him. What part of the US had warm temperatures, no rain, yet still somehow produced the greenest forest Dean had ever laid eyes on?

The broccoli tasted of bitter defeat.

"Good boy." Madeline placated softly. "Boys, you will need to go to bed early today. I have some things I need to take care of."

"Okay." Sammy smiled.

"Alright." Dean muttered.

"You'll play nice, won't you Dean?" There were her blue eyes, capturing and holding his attention. Not just attention, but his very being. There was no more Dean, there was only the blueness of her eyes and the darkness of the universe. There was no light but the one captured in her eyes.

"Yes, I will." Dean smiled. And he would. He wouldn't push and tease Sammy. Even though he found the urge to do so overwhelming at times. He found himself so angry at Sammy sometime. So angry, and unable to say why.

SNSNSN*

She left while the sun was nearing the forest covered peaks to the west. The day was turning a soft orange color. Mom had given them some milk before she left. The milk had been sweet and warm, and left his limbs feeling heavy and his mind unable to focus.

Sammy was already deeply asleep, his face relaxed. Dean tried to remember how old Sammy was, because he seemed to appear much older than Dean remembered. They had been traveling just the day before, in a big black car. There was a black haired monster in the driver's seat, and it scared Sammy, and Dean could do nothing to protect his little brother. Sammy was sitting next to him, small and afraid, and Dean did nothing.

They'd been traveling for so long, and now they could finally sleep.

SNSNSN*

Dean jerked awake.

It was not dark in the small room. There was a small lamp that illuminated cheery toys and bright colored paintings and walls. Outside the window, Dean could see the night sky and dark trees ahead.

Next to him, Sammy soft snores continued uninterrupted.

Dean felt nauseous. He struggled with the heavy comforter and landed heavily on the wooden floor. His body wouldn't follow his brain's instructions. He fumbled and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He braved a glance back and saw that Sammy had not stirred from his position.

The hall swayed in front of him. The lines that were previously straight, curved and bent now like mirrors in a fun house. Finally, Dean made it to the bathroom. It took him a moment, but he finally realized why he was there when he felt bile coming up his throat. He threw himself at the toilet and vomited.

It took what felt like hours to get everything out of his system. When he was finally able to rise, he did so on shaky legs. He flushed and turned to the mirror. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering his face, but he could feel the sweat all over his body. He looked down at the stupid orange pajamas that he was forced to wear and saw patches of wetness where he had sweated through. He jerked the offending articles off himself and through them on the floor.

He staggered into the shower and turned on the hot water. First, nothing but ice cold water pummeled his tired body. The small jabs from the water helped wake him up. And once the water started warming, Dean felt that he could finally move. Getting himself washed was a struggle. Every muscle ached. He felt like he hadn't moved in days.

Finally, he felt clean enough to turn off the water. His muscled had relaxed a fraction, enough not to make every move uncomfortable. He dried himself off and looked at his blurry image in the steam covered mirror. His head was pounding, but the constant fogginess was disappearing.

Shit! He remembered everything. He ran back to Sammy. He rested on the small bed, one long leg dangling off the side. He was also sweating, but his slumber looked peaceful.

"Sammy!" Dean shook his shoulder forcefully. He couldn't play games right now. They had a hypnotizing demon they needed to kill and they had to figure out a way to not fall under whatever mojo she was using.

Sam groaned and tried to roll away from Dean. "No dumbass! Wake up!"

"What…" Sam opened his eyes slowly. They were red and watery.

"Sam, you need to get up right now." Dean's tone brooked no argument. Sam tentatively tried to sit up, but fell back down under his own weight.

"Fuck!" Dean did not have time for this shit. He put both arms underneath Sam and pulled with all that he had.

"Bitch, you need to go on a diet. Or cut off some of your legs. This shit is getting ridicules." Dean grunted as he pulled Sam up.

"Yet, you still have the strength to complain." Sam mumbled as he tried to get his feet to stay steady and hold his weight.

"I don't complain." Dean ground out as they started walking down the hallway.

"Hmm. Dean, I think the walls are moving." Sam said as he slumped a little bit deeper into his brother's arms.

"Yeah, they'll do that when you're as high as a fucking kite." Dean pushed him against the door. "Sammy just hold onto that for a sec." He turned around and turned on the cold water full blast. The hot was probably out anyways.

"First, we gotta get this shit outta your system." Dean lowered Sam to the toilet.

"Don't make me stick a finger down your throat." Dean threatened. Sam shot him a glare from between the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He turned back around and stuck his own finger down his throat. Dean looked away when he heard the gagging.

"Must be just like you were back in college, huh Sammy?" Dean tried to lighten the mood, but his words did not come out as carefree as he wanted them to. Instead they came out like an accusation. And Sam heard it. Dean saw his whole body tense, but neither said anything at all. Maybe one day they would talk about it, but not today. Not when there was evil to be fought.

Sam stopped retching and rested his sweaty brow on his arm.

"Come on Sammy, time to wash off the stink." Dean hoped it came out as soothing. He lifted him again, but didn't say anything this time. If he opened his mouth, things best left unsaid would come out. He stripped him, while Sam held onto the towel rack with a white knuckled grip. Dean felt like he was a boy again, helping Sammy get his bath taken care of so that the kids at school would stop taunting him. Their father never did wash them. Sammy had often been dirty. That is, until a young Dean had heard the jeering of the other kids and made sure that Sammy never went to school dirty again.

"Cold." Sam said between chattering teeth.

"Sorry, I wasn't really thinking. I think I might have used all of it." Dean apologized. Sam rested his head against the tiled wall and shivered. Dean did the rest of the washing. He was still only in a towel and wouldn't mind getting wetter than he already was. He turned off the cold water after he was done lathering Sam up and tried the hot. It took a moment, but it started getting hotter and Dean saw Sam's shoulders relax. He washed the soap off him and let him stay a little longer under the spray.

"That's enough. Some aspirin and we'll be good to go." Dean declared as he shot of the water. He walked out of the bathroom – Sam could take care of drying himself. Besides, he couldn't stand to be in there much longer. It brought back to many memories. Good memories.

SNSN*SN

Dean was already dressed by the time Sam entered the small room that they had thought of as theirs. Dean wondered how long it had been. It seemed that sometimes the time they had spent in this room only lasted hours, and others it felt like a lifetime.

Dean saw the weary set of Sammy's shoulders. He knew, alright?! He knew that he was taking something away from Sammy. He knew! But it's what they did. The demon was not anyone's mother; it tortured and killed over a dozen people. It couldn't continue walking.

"You know what we have to do?" Dean asked from his seat opposite Sam. Sam was slowly putting on his jeans, every move looking like it was taking everything in him to complete.

"Yes Dean." Sam said softly.

Dean opened his mouth. Ready to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat. Sammy hadn't seen their mother die, but he had always felt the loss. And for a little time, that loss had been erased.

Dean shook his head and got up. He would wait for Sam in the car. It was easier to pretend that way.

AN:

Has it really been years?! Nah, can't be.