Thanks to everyone who reviewed and is still reading. It's been fun expanding on the AU storyline I (unintentionally) started with "In the Pursqueeter," and I'm happy a lot of you enjoyed it this much.

I want to extend another HUGE thank you to Faye Dartmouth and geminigirl11 for helping me with this one, they were invaluable to me.

I don't own anything Supernatural. Reviews and final comments welcomed.

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Epilogue

"I don't know what to tell you."

Dean blinked at Missouri for a moment, and then glanced at Sam, who'd been sullenly staring at the table since the discussion began. He turned back to Missouri, who also happened to be looking at Sam.

"Well…you must have some idea what caused it. I mean, Sammy's ability just cranked up a week ago…there must be a reason."

"Of course there's a reason, boy, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying that I don't know why it started so suddenly," the psychic replied gruffly.

"How can that be? I mean, you experienced something like this, didn't you?" Sam asked, finally looking up at her.

Missouri sighed, "My ability to sense thoughts started a lot earlier. And it's different for everybody. There's nothing in a medical journal about psychic abilities, Sam. You won't find any research about it to guide you. Truth is, even psychics don't fully understand what happens or why. Heck, sometimes people just get hit over the head and it starts."

Dean looked up at her sharply. Hit on the head…. "Wait a minute. Sam had a concussion…when he was abducted. And every time he had a---" he broke off, shooting a worried glance at Sam, but since the younger man didn't seem to be listening, he plunged on, "---every time he had a flashback, it was followed by a headache."

Missouri pursed her lips, "Hmm…it might be. Maybe the concussion affected something that set his telekinesis off. It's possible. But why did it stop a few days ago?"

Dean felt a sense of dread come over him. He reached into his coat and pulled out the voodoo doll, "Maybe it had something to do with this."

Missouri took the doll and looked at it appraisingly before looking at Sam, "Cute…it looks just like you, baby."

Dean grinned at Missouri's evaluation of the voodoo doll. He took what he had dubbed 'Gingerbread Sam' back from her outstretched hand and shot a shit-eating grin at Sammy, who was glowering at him from the other side of the table.

"Could the voodoo attack have…I dunno…gummed up the telekinesis? He was trying to use it when Eva attacked him."

Missouri shrugged, "Sympathetic magic like that has all kinds of side-effects," at Sam's scoff, she added, "Like I said, there's no books or research on this stuff. If I had to guess…I'd say Sam's mind was just stunned…his power will probably resurface when his mind recovers from the attack."

A distinct groan could be heard coming from Sam's direction. Dean glanced between them uncomfortably, reading some increased tension from Sam. He decided to switch gears away from the telekinesis.

"Okay, well, you think there's a way to destroy this thing without hurting Sam?"

Missouri considered the idea for a moment, "I think so. But, why don't you let me keep it. I read about a ceremony once that uses one voodoo doll to counter another…we might be able to do something similar with this one."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "You mean you can use this to make Sam immune to voodoo attacks?"

"Maybe. Leave it here and I'll check on it for you."

Missouri eyed them both, clearly waiting for one of them to reveal why they were really there. Dean suspected she already knew. He wished he did. Sam hadn't told him anything on the way here, but he had grown increasingly agitated as they got closer to Lawrence. Something was eating at him, but apparently he wasn't keen on sharing it. All the talk of Sam's ability and the voodoo doll had been at Dean's prompting.

"Dean, why don't you take that doll upstairs and put it on the desk in my bedroom?" Missouri asked. Her tone was pleasant, but her eyes were delivering a different message altogether, 'Leave the room.'

He looked at Sam, whose eyes were fixed on the tabletop. His stony expression revealed nothing. With a frown, Dean rose and left the room, glancing back as he passed through the kitchen door. He'd always hated being left out of the loop.

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Once Dean was gone, Sam fixed Missouri with a piercing stare. He must have looked angrier than he thought he did, because she flinched a little when their eyes met. He'd never seen her react that way before. She must have already sensed what he was going to say. Fine, that works too.

"You know what I want."

"Yes…but I don't know if that's possible."

Sam slammed his fist on the tabletop, an irrational fury bubbling over inside him, "I want this thing out of my head!"

Missouri looked as if she was about to chastise him for his outburst, but her face settled into a frown, "I know you do, honey. The question you need to ask yourself is why?"

Where do I begin? He opened his mouth to explain it to her…but found himself at a loss. He'd had it all planned out in the trip here, everything he wanted to say, but now, under her stern gaze, he was speechless. She didn't wait for him to reply.

"You have a powerful gift, Sam."

Sam snorted in derision, "Yeah…some gift."

"What do you mean by that?" She used that tone where she seemed curious, but Sam knew it was just a ploy she often used to make people talk. It always seemed to work.

"You call this a gift," he said quietly, "but it's a curse…and you know that. It destroyed my family, ruined all our lives. If it wasn't for this fucking 'gift,' mom would never have died…Jess would still be alive…and I wouldn't see futures that I can't prevent."

"Now you're thinking about Dean," Missouri stated matter-of-factly.

"You're damn right," Sam spat, his anger building again, "how many times could I have stopped him from being hurt? This power…the visions…the ability…it's all useless. I couldn't see that dad was possessed, I couldn't stop the demon in that shack, I couldn't stop those vampires, or Dean from getting beaten last week…" he was rambling, but he didn't care, "…or stop Max, or stop Meg----"

"You've saved Dean's life twice now, with your visions…the time with Max and on that road with the vampires."

"Twice. How many more times could I have? He got burned when I was kidnapped…a hot poker…did you know that? Those fucking hillbillies tortured him because he came to rescue me. We all almost died in Chicago when the daevas attacked us. Where was my so-called gift? If it won't work when my family needs it, then I don't want it!"

"It isn't that simple, Sam."

"Yes, it is!"

"Baby, I know you're angry…you're scared too, I can sense that, but this gift," Missouri paused when Sam rolled his eyes at the word, "this gift, is a part of you. You can't just cut it out or remove it…you can't do cosmetic surgery on your mind."

"Why not?"

Sam was startled by Dean's voice coming from behind them, "Because even if it was possible we don't know what it would do to you…you might get hurt."

So what? He wanted to say, but he bit back the retort, "You don't know that."

Dean slowly moved back to the table, watching Sam as he sat back down, "Yeah, well…I'm not going to take that chance."

Sam's brow furrowed at that statement, the fury returning, "It's not your choice…it's mine."

Dean stared back at him placidly, but his tone of voice was both dismissive and final, "Yeah…we keep having this conversation. I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself, Sammy. What kind of big brother would I be if I did?"

Sam looked to Missouri, hoping for support. Surely she could see why he needed to get rid of this thing. She met his gaze just as calmly, shaking her head in silent refusal. He cursed under his breath and was overcome by the urge to run away. He followed his urge. Scowling, he pushed away from the table and stormed out the back door, leaving his unhelpful companions behind.

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Dean stepped out onto the back porch silently, closing the door behind him. He found Sam at his familiar place, in Missouri's garden, slumped on the wooden bench.

Steeling himself to face his stewing brother, he moved out into the yard. Of all the things he disliked, arguing with Sam…really arguing…was his least favorite. He always felt bad for his little brother when it was over. Dad always told me I had too much of a soft spot for him…but how could I not? He supposed it just boiled down to not wanting to disappoint Sam. Usually when they argued, it was Sam's own good…or at least Dean's opinion of what was good for him. For better or worse, he had been a de facto parent to his little brother, as messed up as that was, and sometimes, he really did know best.

That didn't make adding to Sam's lifetime of disappoint any easier, though.

He wordlessly moved beside Sam and sank down onto the bench. He watched Sam staring off into the bushes behind the house, rubbing the slowly-healing scars on his arms with one hand. He was silently mouthing words to himself. Dean had seen the expression a hundred times. Sam was composing an argument. An argument that he intended to win. He suddenly saw Sam dressed as Matlock in his mind, and a laugh threatened to escape his lips.

Fighting back the grin that threatened to break out on his face, he settled back and relaxed, waiting for Sam to say something. His mere presence was usually enough to interrupt Sam's brainstorming when he got like this. It was a talent he had first used when Sam was twelve…and perfected during Sam's rebellious teenage years. The tactic had snuffed out more than a few bitter fights between Sam and their father before they got started.

Sam glanced at him, as expected, and quickly looked away, a defiant frown marring his face, "If you're here to tell me why I shouldn't get rid of my 'gift,' don't bother."

Dean kept his poker face on, "I'm not here to tell you that."

Sam's eyes moved towards him, but didn't leave the bushes, "Then what?"

Dean propped his arms up behind his head and shrugged, "I just like sitting out here." He waited. He knew Sam wouldn't be able to resist talking for long. He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye and saw the younger Winchester begin to shift restlessly. Won't be long now. Sometimes, the big brother had to cheat in order to take care of the little brother. He didn't mind using this subtle manipulation tactic one bit. As expected, Sam turned to him.

"You can't tell me," Sam spat, tapping his temple for emphasis, "that we wouldn't have been better off if I'd never had this thing…if I hadn't been born a---" he stopped and looked away abruptly.

Dean looked over at him, "A what?"

Sam's mouth tightened. He does a good imitation of a clam….

Dean thought he knew where that thought had been heading, so he took a shot, "You know…Sarah and me…we don't mind that you're a freak…if that's what you're worried about."

Sam turned back to him, looking like he'd been caught doing something wrong, "Dean…leaving blame and guilt aside for a moment…we both know that demon was after kids with 'abilities.' Mom and Jess died because they got in its way. That thing all but told us that."

Dean eyed Sam for a moment, and decided that for once honesty was required over platitudes and excuses, "You're probably right. As much as I hate to admit it, that's probably why that thing killed them…that, and it was an evil, sadistic son of a bitch."

The slight change in facial expression told him that Sam thought he was making progress in his argument, so Dean chose that moment to burst the bubble. He tapped Sam on the forehead roughly to get his full attention.

"But finding a crazy brain surgeon or some whackjob mind reader to go in and try to change the way your brain works…all that'll do is make things worse, Sam. It won't bring any of them back. Mom, Jess, Dad, Jim, Caleb…they're gone. And so is that demon while were at it. That's all over. It's just you and me now. And you need to let them go, or you'll always hate yourself for things you can't control…and for that 'Shining' thing that you can't change."

Sam held his gaze for a minute, and then went back to staring at the bushes. He looked more miserable than he had when Dean sat down. Dean sighed and joined his brother in staring. But, like Sam, he couldn't sit next to his sibling for long and not talk.

"You sat out here a lot when we were here last time. I didn't know you liked gardens that much."

Sam shrugged, "Missouri said she chose the flowers out here carefully…something about how seeing all the different color patterns swirling together soothes the mind."

Dean pursed his lips, "Does it work?"

Sam smiled for the first time all morning and shook his head, "No."

"Well, maybe it just doesn't work on you psychics. I kinda like it."

Sam sighed, "Dean. Maybe you're right."

Dean knew he wasn't talking about the flowers, but he didn't press. In the end, Sam was going to have to come to terms with his gift on his own.

"I try."

Sam glanced at him with a resigned expression, "I'm telling Missouri that you called her a whackjob."

"I didn't call her a whackjob…I was talking about…you know…other mind readers."

Sam nodded condescendingly, "Uh huh…she's so gonna hit you with a spoon…."

"Dude, it hurts when she does that! Don't tell her."

Sam's smile became a grin, and he turned back to viewing the yard. His leg bounced restlessly against the concrete walkway beneath them, "You wanna see if we can con her into making another apple pie before we leave?"

Dean nodded emphatically, "Absolutely!"

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Missouri Mosely's house, 5:00 PM

Sam was mostly quiet for the rest of the day. Missouri convinced him to let her do a deep reading on him to make sure Eva's voodoo attack hadn't damaged anything, but she couldn't find anything.

Dude, she said she couldn't find anything in your head! Ha!

Shut up, Jerk. Maybe she should read you, now.

No way! She might get jealous reading about all the girls.

Or start laughing hysterically.

…shut up.

By the late afternoon, it was time to move on. They bid their farewells to Missouri, and promised, as always to come back soon. Dean propped the apple pie she had…grudgingly and after much begging…baked for them on the seat between them, and looked over at Sam. The younger man slid into the passenger seat after hugging Missouri goodbye, and glanced back at him with a small sigh.

Between the two of them, Dean and Missouri had managed to convince Sam that the best way to deal with his 'gift' was to confront it head on. Learning how to use it, Dean argued, would do Sam better in the long run than running away from it.

He couldn't blame Sam for wanting to escape it. The Winchesters were always running from something, it seemed…haunted memories, emotions, even themselves. Dean didn't exactly fault that strategy…their Dad had taught them well: Live to fight another day…the rest takes care of itself eventually. Not exactly Hallmark or Philosophy 101, but it seemed to work for them.

But he also honestly felt that learning to control his abilities would bring Sam some peace…even if that only meant being able to sleep through the nights sometimes without being plagued with nightmarish visions. He promised Sam that he'd help, since this was uncharted territory for both of them…though he really had no idea how.

"Ready to go little brother?" he asked, reaching for the key. Sam grabbed his hand before he could start the car, though. Dean glanced at him in confusion, "What?"

"Shhh!" Sam hissed, staring intently at the steering wheel. Dean was about to speak again, when Sam closed his eyes and his brow furrowed in concentration. Then, with a gasp, his eyes shot open and Dean heard the jingle of his keys. The car started.

Without either of them turning the key with their hands.

Dean stared at Sam in surprise, "But…you didn't have a headache today…."

Sam looked at him and nodded slowly, "I know. I just…had a feeling."

Dean could only sit and stare. He didn't know what to say. Maybe this won't be so hard after all.

Sam just smiled at him, "Let's hit the road, big brother."

The End

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Well, that's it. The end of the AU storyline started in "In the Pursqueeter." Hope you enjoyed it. See you all next time!