So, the headache has gone and so has that pain in the ass doctor who took such delight in poking me in places that my injuries certainly don't warrant. Think Sammy's still here. That or some freak has set up camp in the corner. I can see by the gentle rise and fall of his chest that he's finally asleep. About time. I thought I was going to have to sneak something into his coffee.

I can't remember when he last got some real rest. Still can't really remember why we're here even. He asked me about Millie again before the doctor pushed him out to 'give us some privacy'. I lied to him. Told him the name meant nothing to me. Out and out lie. I should be ashamed of myself. I do remember her - bits anyway. I remember what brought us here but not why. It was a phone call from Pastor Jim asking us to check up on one of his ex-parishoners. He wouldn't say much else, just to do it soon if we could.

Sam thought we should contact her first so he called ahead as I was driving. She wouldn't say much over the phone - can't say I blamed her. She was probably scared we'd think she was crazy, although to be honest, I'd heard crazier by the time I was ten years old. She had a problem that Jim had assured her we could take care of for her and would we come out to Rapid City as soon as possible. She'd added a plaintive 'please' just for good measure. Should've known Sam would fall for that. He's always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress type.

I think we got here just over a week ago, although Sammy said it was ten days. Gotta go with him on this for now - details are all a bit fuzzy still. Drove out to Millie's farmstead and boy, was that worth the trip. Millie greeted us with a warm open smile and eyes that didn't quite trust us. I liked her from the get go. She had these beautiful... well, she was beautiful, let's just leave it at that.

Jeez – this pit in my stomach seems to be growing. What the hell happened out there? I'm gonna have to ask Sam. I'm not sure what's scaring me most here, the fact I can't remember or this feeling things didn't go well out there. I wonder when I can get outta here. This place is doing nothing for my memory, although the painkillers are pretty awesome. I bet Sam can score some of those before we leave. C'mon Sam, wake up, I wanna go now.

Oh, perfect timing. Here comes nurse Kirsty again. And there's my boy. Shows how tired he is. He should be on full alert and there he is, dragging himself into consciousness like a sullen teenager.

"How are you feeling this morning, Dean?" Oh, I'm good, sugar, I just wanna break free now.

"Better for seeing you," I smile at her and in the corner I can see Sam coming to his senses. Is that a little jealously I spy in his eyes? Why yes, I think it is. I turn my smirk on him. This is too much fun.

"I'm sure," she's obviously heard all the corny pick up lines in the world. Still, can't blame a guy for trying. "The doctor will be here in about half an hour." She fusses around for a bit, rearranging pillows and IV lines. Then she turns to Sam. "And how are you this morning?"

Sam turns an interesting shade of pink. It's a cute look on him, matches his stutter when he replies.

"I'm fine, well, could've slept a bit better but …" Kirsty smiles at him in a way she didn't smile at me.

"Well, all being well, you'll both be in your own beds tonight." And that is the best news I've heard since I first woke up. Sam looks relieved too. I think, but I'm not sure, that's because he's played the waiting game in too many hospitals, in too many States. We both have.

Kirsty must have upped those pain killers cos I think I zoned out for a few minutes there. She's gone and Sam's right by my side again. Not sure how he does that. For someone so big he shouldn't be able to move so stealthily, or at least not in such a confined space. Then again, maybe it's just me.

"How you doing? Really?" He's looking more refreshed than last night but I can still see the residue of worry, the creases in his forehead give him away.

"I just wanna go, Sam. Think you can bust me outta here?"

"Half an hour, Dean, you can't wait half an hour till the doctor signs you out? Seriously?" Talk about putting a guy in his place. I sink back into my pillow and glare at him. He starts to fidget and I know what's coming. He can't hide anything from me. Any second now he's gonna ask…

"What do you remember, Dean?" I open my mouth to tell him 'nothing' but before I can get the words out he jumps in, "And don't tell me 'nothing' cos we both know that's bullshit."

"I remember Millie," I sigh. The ceiling in here is real interesting. Did you know if you line up all the indentations up there you could make a line that stretches to the moon and back? I get to 38 before Sam interrupts my meditation.

"And?"

"And I think we screwed up, Sammy. I think she's dead because of me." And there's the crux of the whole affair. I think I killed her, or maybe just couldn't save her. Either way, when I think of her it's always in the past tense. I look down from the ceiling, directly at Sam. He can't hide stuff from me and the look on his face now rocks the foundations of my world. I wasn't sure before but now, with Sam looking at me with that mixture of sympathy, pathos and guilt, I just know that Millie is gone.

"I'm sorry, Dean. We did everything we could. I know you liked with her." He looks uncomfortable for a moment and reaches out to me. Half way to my shoulder, his hand stops and he looks at it as though it's got a mind of its own and he doesn't know how it got there. He's unsure whether to let it carry on its journey or whether to bring it back home. With the confirmation I just got and the effect of the painkillers, I really hope he lets it go on. I could do with something to ground me right now and he's all I've got. I guess he knows me as well as I do because his hand is on my shoulder and it's weight is comforting in its solidity. The room is swirling and to my shame I feel wetness trailing down my cheeks.

"What happened, Sam?" God, I hate how pathetic I sound. My voice is breaking because of the drugs in my system. It's nothing to do with the tears obscuring my vision. I hope the doctor doesn't choose this touching moment to come and check me out. But apparently that's too much to ask.

Since when did the Winchesters catch a break?