Well, no one reviewed, and that makes me sad, but I'll keep updating, jsut hoping that someone stumbles across the story and enjoys it. Yep... just keep updating...


"Good morning, Millie," Sam smiled sweetly as Dean glanced around the hospital and yawned. They'd pulled into Onyx Montana at four in the morning and been searching for a motel since. The brothers had finally found a nice little fleabag and stowed their gear around five. After that, it was off to the hospital to try and find Peter Hemming.

Millie looked up at the two doctors. "Yes?" She asked politely.

"I'm Dr. Kent, this is Dr. Luthor. We are interested in one of your patients here, a Peter Hemming. His regular doctor is expecting us."

"Oh, well, Dr. Stable isn't in at the moment."

"That's OK," Dean said, approaching the desk, "he told us to go right ahead. We've never really seen anyone with, um, Peter's condition."

"Multiple personalities? He should be a nuthouse, but he's suicidal half the time. Go right on in. He might be sleeping. Wake him gently. Room 713."

"Thanks," Sam nodded as the brothers walked down the hall together.

"Kent and Luthor?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, "what would you have done if she caught that?"

"Told her it was a funny coincidence, that's all," Sam replied, grinning.

"Why did I have to be the bad guy? The bald bad guy?"

"Because," Sammy said, lowering his voice as he opened the door to room 713, "everyone knows I'm nicer than you."

"Watch it, Supes," Dean warned, "or I'll pull out some of that kryptonite you like so much."

"Who are you?" the very awake man tied to the hospital bed inquired.

"We're friends of your doctor," Dean said, "we wanted to talk to you."

"I'm sure you did," he sneered, "but I'm not in the mood right now. Leave me alone."

"We can't do that," Sam said, "we're supposed to, um, observe you today."

"Why? I'm not gonna do anything."

"We didn't say were. We just want to ask a few questions, see what your answers are. You know, doctor stuff."

"I'm not five. Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid. I know what you people think I am. A freak."

"Listen," Dean said slowly, "we need to know. Do you ever hear any voices that other people can't?"

"No. I never hear voices, I never see anything odd. I just change sometimes. Into this weak, pathetic version of myself. You wouldn't like him."

"Can I meet him?"

"No. He deserves to die. Like Millie. I'm going to kill her today."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other.

"How?" Sam asked.

"I'll show you," Peter smirked as Millie popped her head into the room.

"Hey, Peter. You awake?"

"Watch," he sneered, staring at the brothers as he pulled the match from under his mattress and lit it on the rough ropes that bound his hands to the bed.

As Peter tossed the match, sending it through the air to its fatal landing place by the oxygen tank Dean grabbed his brother and pushed him from the room. A blast of warm met shoved him through the door as the deranged man in the hospital bed laughed his last psychotic laugh.

Dean felt something tug in his gut as he and Sam flew from the room, like something was disengaging, and then he saw darkness.