Have you ever had an out of body experience? You know, one of those moments when you see or do something you never thought you'd ever see or do and it's like you're watching yourself move but it couldn't possibly be you?

The fourth night I was with my uncle was like that.

Have you ever seen someone who's possessed?

I have.

Now I wish I hadn't.

It all started on the beginning of the third day with Uncle Sam (anybody else getting the idea he should be dressed in Red, White, and Blue?...just me?...okay……). We were in a motel, the third one in seventy two hours, and it was about six am. I was awake, mainly due to my uncle, and was sitting and staring.

I'd seen a lot of strange things surrounding my uncle. Firstly, I'd never realized just how many weapons he owned, nor had I realized that he always seemed to have a very worn and beaten brown journal with him. And while those weren't entirely weird on their own, them mixed with the fact that he didn't seem to have a house, or a job all kinda made me incredibly suspicious.

Naturally, I confronted him. I mean, already had a go around with my mom, right? Not much more here to lose.

He was just coming out of the bathroom, having freshly shaved and dressed, and I stood up, striding over to him. I was tall, six feet, but he was about six four, and that still beat me. This means, then, that when I stood in front of him, I didn't feel quite as full of self right as I had when I'd been sitting there planning it.

No going back now, though. "Who are you?" I demanded.
"Sam Winchester. Who are you?"
I frowned; sometimes I thought my uncle truly didn't get it.
"That's not what I meant. I mean, what do you do? Nobody lives on the road, owning nothing but a chevy and some guns. Where are we going?"My uncle took a seat on one of the beds, beginning to pull his steel toed boots on.
"I know what you meant," He said. All right, so maybe he did get it.
I waited, and when he didn't elaborate, "Well?"
He looked up at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your mother doesn't want you to know, and I don't blame her." He stood up, walking to the dresser to grab his watch. "Once you lose that kind of innocence, you don't get it back."
I frowned, completely annoyed by the response. "So if you're not going to tell me, then why bring me along?"
"Because I know how you feel." He said, gathering the few items we had brought and throwing them in a duffel bag. "I was always kind of rebellious as a kid myself."
He glanced at me, standing where I'd first confronted him, hands on my hips, two feet planted firmly on the ground. I was wearing the same sort of outfit I always wore; jeans, t-shirt, boots, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled part way up. I had a really old brown leather jacket I'd worn since I was big enough that it wouldn't swallow me, but it was thrown over the back of a chair. I'm not sure where the jacket came from, I'd found it in a closet in my mothers room when I was six and she'd let me keep it.
Sam laughed, looking at my defiant expression, and I frowned all the harder. "What?"
"Nothing," He said, shaking his head. "I was just thinking you looked a lot like the Dean Winchester I knew."
I looked down, reminded of the fact that I would never know that man, and Uncle Sam stood up, grabbing his own jacket.
"So I'm not going to tell you what I do, I'm going to show you. Your mother can't get mad at me then." He said, giving me a smile, and then we left that motel.

We spent the whole day driving, and then by late evening we arrived in Liberty, Montana.

That's when shit started hitting the fan.

First thing my uncle did was show me a newspaper clipping about a girl and her troubles. It was dated the day before, but the article described how she was having hallucinations and terrors and seeing as how, at the time, I didn't know better, I could sworn this girl had just seen Exorcism of Emily Rose one too many times.

I don't know how Sam knew, but he did. He knew, even though the girl (Melinda) seemed, by rights, to be normal. He knew she was possessed, and she knew he knew. So after brief moments of pretending we were psychologists (and what was up with that? My uncle lied so easily…..it made me question virtually everything he'd ever told me), and her pretending to be the kind hostess (did I mention she was twenty eight and living on her own and now claiming she was simply epileptic and not yet diagnosed.

I was willing to buy this reason, myself. I mean, what reason did I have not to? I was no doctor, and for all I knew about epilepsy it was a complete lie, but it surely seemed plausible.

But then she attacked my uncle as he referred to Jesus Christ, and I'm ashamed to admit, I froze. The woman had completely changed. She was no longer the petite, sweet young woman I'd just met. Her features had mutated into a grotesque mask of fury and hate and it was all directed at my uncle.

"Dean! Holy Water!"

My uncle's voice rang out and echoed through the room and it triggered me into action. I helped him subdue the young woman enough to tie her to a chair and immediately Sam began to speak in Latin. I couldn't have told you what he was saying, and in some ways, not sure I want to know. What I do know is in the middle of it he ordered me out of the room and I went, for once, without argument.

If anyone is interested, Gavin Rossdale's song Can't Stop the World kinda reminds me of lil' Dean here. You can listen to it at youtube, just type it in and it'll be the first one to pop up. It's a black screen and just plays the song. It's not completely like him, but I figure I'd give you guys background music if nothing else:p

Also, not to be a bother, but could you guys drop me a review? I'd like feedback of any kind to kind of gauge what people think of the story thus far and whatnot. Please and thanks.