January 12th - January 13th, 2010

We had stopped at a rest stop, and while I was waiting for Dean to come back to the Impala from getting snacks, I stepped out to get some fresh air. I went around back and sat on the trunk, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't really paying attention, and then dialed Nate's number. I took a deep breath and put the phone to my ear, hoping this time he would answer.

Sadly, he didn't answer again, but I decided to leave another message when it beeped. "Hey, uh, I've gotta be honest... I don't really know what to say anymore. I just really hope you're doing okay... I, uh, I miss you. I miss talking to you." I sighed. "I know nothing I can say will change anything or make anything better, but I hope you know how much I—" I shook my head and sighed. "Just call me if you ever feel up to it." I hung up and got back into the car.

Sam cleared his throat. "Still no answer, huh?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"He'll come around," he said.

"I really don't think so." I shrugged. "I can't really blame him. Jo and Ellen are dead because of us. He never knew his dad because of ours." I shook my head. "If I was him, I wouldn't trust our family either."

Sam turned to look at me.

"I know it's stupid, but I really like him, Sam..." I felt my lip start to quiver. "I never wanted him to get hurt."

Sam grabbed my hand. "I know..." He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. "I hate—"

Dean opened the door and got in. "Just got a call from Donna..." He looked at us. "Did I miss something?"

I cleared my throat and let go of Sam's hand. "No."

"Donna who?" Sam asked.

"Our old babysitter," Dean said.

Donna lived in Massachusetts. Apparently, Dad used to leave Sam and Dean with her whenever he was on hunts near there. She said her family was being haunted, and they really needed help.

We sat in her living room across from her daughter Katie, who was probably my age, and waited for Donna to come back with a tray of lemonade and cookies.

Donna set the tray down on the coffee table. "Dean and Sammy Winchester." She smiled at them as she sat down next to Katie. "So, how long has it been?"

"The summer before sixth grade," Sam said.

Donna nodded and smiled. "Mm-hmm, I remember. You assigned yourself your own reading list."

Dean laughed. "That's right. I forgot about that."

Sam brushed it off and looked at Katie. "Your mom happens to be the best babysitter we ever had."

Donna nodded and smiled. "Well, when I was a maid at the Mayflower, out on the interstate..." She gave Katie and me a look. "Long before either of you were even an idea." She smiled at Sam and Dean. "Their daddy used to pass through town and leave the boys with me while he went off to... work. One time, he was gone for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Katie asked, shocked.

Donna nodded. "Mm-hmm. Oh, he'd always come limping back." She looked at the boys again. "He loved you boys."

"Did you know what he did all that time?" Katie asked her.

Donna smiled. "Little Sammy kept trying to tell me. Of course, I didn't believe him. Not at first, anyway."

"Katie, our dad, um, happened to be an expert at getting rid of ghosts. And now, so are we," Sam said.

Donna nodded. "That's why I called them, sweetie. They can help us."

"Sounds like you guys got yourself a poltergeist," Dean said.

Donna's husband came into the room, carrying suitcases. "Started a month or two after we moved in."

Donna nodded. "Yeah, first it was, uh, just bumps and knocks and scratches on the walls. And then it started breaking things."

"And then it attacked Katie?" Sam asked.

Donna's husband nodded. "That was two nights ago."

"Can you show them, honey?" Donna asked.

Katie stood up and lifted her shirt to reveal the words, Murdered Chylde carved into her stomach.

"Murdered Chylde?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Katie, everything's gonna be fine. I promise. Why don't you guys take yourselves a little vacation, and, uh, we'll take care of it."

Donna sighed in relief and smiled. "Thank you."

We decided to go out and get some food. Sam got us a table and began doing some research while Dean and I approached the counter, ready to order.

Shortly after we ordered, a kid a little older than me brought over our food, but he kept staring at me. He broke his gaze at me and set the food down on the counter.

"Uh, two bacon burger turbos, large chili-cheese fry, small chili-cheese fry, uh, and a Health Quake Salad shake?" he asked as he eyed the variety of health in our food choices.

Dean nodded. "I know, I know. It's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "It's not ours." He grabbed the food, and we turned away.

"Uh, have a— have a nice day," the kid said awkwardly.

I turned and smiled at him. "Thanks, you too."

He smiled uncomfortably and then quickly turned back to another customer.

Dean and I sat down across the table from Sam. Sam grabbed his salad cup, squirted his dressing into it, and then started shaking it.

"Oh, you shake it up, baby." Dean smirked, making Sam give him a dirty look. "You know, poltergeist aside, Donna looked pretty good, don't you think?"

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Dude, don't tell me you've still got the hots for our babysitter."

"What?" Dean asked and shook his head. "No. That's weird." He chuckled. "I'm just saying that she, ya know— she— she's— she's doing good. Ya know, with her husband, her kid. This whole Amityville thing being thrown at them, and they're hanging tough."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"You ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, not really my thing anymore."

"Yeah." Dean nodded and sighed. "What do you got?"

"Uh, well, that house of theirs, it's old... really old. Um, hundreds of years." Sam scrolled through his computer. "And I found a legend. It's unconfirmed, but still."

"Saying?" Dean asked.

"Supposedly, in the 1720s, the house was owned by a guy named Isaiah Pickett." Sam turned his computer to us and shrugged. He was on a website titled Witchcraft. "Legend has it he hung a woman in his backyard for witchcraft... a woman named Maggie Briggs."

"So we've got an angry ghost witch?" I asked.

"If it's true." Sam shrugged. "That still doesn't explain what Murdered Chylde means."

Dean nodded. "No, or where the bitch is buried."

"Ya know, I mean, it's a long way back, but I can see if I can find something in the town records," Sam said.

Dean shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

I looked over and spotted the kid smiling at our table from behind the counter.

"Gary!" someone shouted, causing him to jump. "Curly fries are up!" Then he ran off into the kitchen.

Dean and I split from Sam, and the three of us went off to see what we could find out about the case. It was pretty obvious that it was an angry spirit, but we weren't sure why it would choose to attack Katie like that.

After a couple hours of searching, Dean's phone started ringing, and he answered, "So, any luck?" (...) He nodded. "All right. Well, we've got a minute to breathe here, so, uh, let's pick it up first thing." He hung up and looked at me. "We're calling it a night. Let's get back to the motel."

We drove back to our room and hung out there for about an hour, with no sign of Sam, so we both started calling him to see where the hell he was, but he wasn't answering. We decided to look for him around the town while continuing to call, but hours passed, and there was nothing.

After no luck searching for Sam, we went back to our motel, hoping he would be there. Thankfully, when we walked in, he was waiting in the room for us.

"Sam. Where the hell you been, man?" Dean asked. "We've been trying to call you for hours."

Sam shrugged. "I picked up some food." He handed Dean a bag of takeout. "Bacon burger turbos, large chili-cheese fries, right?" He gave me a bag and smiled. "I, uh— I wanted to tell you that you look really pretty today."

I took the bag and gave him a strange look. "Uh, thanks, Sam, you look nice too..."

Sam smiled and looked back at Dean. "Sorry, man. Really. I— I just— I lost track of time. I didn't mean to freak you out."

Dean gave him a look and shrugged. "Thanks. Don't know why it took you two hours, but thanks." He started opening the bag.

Sam put his hand up. "Oh, you're gonna want to eat that on the road."

Dean furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"The maid came in, saw that..." Sam pointed to Dean's bed, which was covered in our various knives and guns. "And now they're all kind of freaking out."

I shook my head. "What are you? New?"

"What?" Sam shook his head. "No—"

"Why'd you let the maid in?" Dean asked.

I furrowed my brow at him, a little annoyed that it was late, and we now had to search for somewhere else to stay. "That's like rule one."

Sam shrugged. "It just happened."

"Whatever." Dean scoffed. "I got to hit the head, and then we'll take off." He walked off into the bathroom.

I walked over to start packing my bag and cleaning up the weapons on the bed.

Sam nodded. "All right. I— I'll be outside." He grabbed a few things off of the bed before leaving the room.

Once Dean walked out, I zipped up my bag, and he picked up the weapons bag off of the bed, and we walked out together. Before we reached the car, I pulled out my phone to check if I had received anything from Nate.

"Here, I'll take that," Sam said and pulled my bag off of my shoulder, causing me to lose grip of my phone and send it in to a puddle at our feet. "Oh, crap." He picked it up, flipped it open, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, we'll have to grab you a new one somewhere."

I sighed, not really worried, since I didn't think Nate would try to contact me anyway. "Whatever." I sighed. "You're really off your game tonight," I said and got into the back seat.

Sam and Dean got in, as well.

Dean started the car. "Okay. You ready?"

Sam nodded. "Absolutely." He hesitated and then looked at Dean. "Hey, can I drive?"

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged, then they got out and switched seats.

Sam rubbed the steering wheel and then revved the engine. "Oh, this is so sweet!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You want to get the lead out, Andretti? Come on."

Sam smirked and put the car in gear, and stepped on the gas.

Dean's eyes widened in fear. "Reverse. Reverse!"

Then the tires squealed, and the Impala shot backward into some dumpsters, causing full trash bags to fall onto the trunk.

Dean glared at Sam. "It's in reverse."

"Oh my god!" I started laughing. "What the hell is happening?!"

Dean looked back at me. "You think this is funny?"

I wiped the tears from my eyes that had formed from laughing so hard. "No, but I get why Sam doesn't usually drive now."

Dean groaned and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

"You are so dead." I laughed at Sam.

Sam gulped nervously and got out too.

Dean walked back and forth around the Impala, surveying the damage, and then sat in the driver's seat.

Sam got in and sat in the passenger seat. "I am really, really sorry."

"Shut up," Dean said, without looking at him, and then we took off.

The next morning, we left our new motel room to get started on the case.

"So, uh, where we going, anyway?" Sam asked as we walked to the Impala.

"To work?" I asked, confused.

Sam still looked confused.

"The case?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded as if he realized something. "Oh, right. Yeah... the case. Of course. Where, uh, do you want to start?"

Dean sighed. "Well, since you couldn't find where Maggie Briggs was buried, now we have to do an all-day tombstone roll to see if we can dig her up."

"Wait. Ma— Maggie Briggs? You mean, like— like, the witch Maggie Briggs?" Sam asked, excited.

Dean and I exchanged a look when we reached the Impala.

"Yeah, Sherlock," Dean said.

"Yeah, she's in the basement," Sam said.

Dean furrowed his brow. "Come again? Wha— What basement?"

"Isaiah Pickett's house. Okay, there's this legend that he hung her, but he didn't. The real truth is that she was carrying his illegitimate child, and he killed her and then buried her in the basement," Sam explained.

"Murdered child," I said.

Dean nodded. "That would explain the scratches. How do you know all this?"

"Oh, I've done all kinds of research on it," Sam said.

Dean and I looked at him, surprised.

Sam shrugged. "I mean, ya know, last night."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Nice work... I guess."

We got into the Impala, and when Dean turned the key, the radio started playing Bob Seger's Rock 'n' Roll Never Forgets.

"Aw, man, turn it up!" Sam shouted happily.

Dean and I furrowed our brows at him. "Seriously?"

"Hell yeah!" Sam shouted.

Dean shrugged and happily turned up the radio.

We walked into Donna's house, all three carrying flashlights, Dean had a shovel, and Sam had a shotgun.

"Boo-yah!" Sam shouted when we reached the last step to the basement. "Master chief is in the house, bizatches!"

I furrowed my brow at him.

Dean slowly turned and gave him a look. "Are you all right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

Dean and I exchanged another look and went back to shining our flashlights around the room.

"Well, I'll be damned. Willow moss," Dean said when the light of his flashlight ran over the plant.

"Yeah, right. It's, uh, supposed to grow over witches' graves, right?" Sam asked.

Dean furrowed his brow at him. "Yeah."

"Did you like bump your head or something?" I asked.

"No..." Sam said, "I was just double-checking."

When Dean started digging up the grave, I looked around the room out of curiosity.

After a couple minutes, Sam spoke up, "Hey, man, I'm really sorry about this."

"Sorry about what?" Dean asked.

I turned, just as Sam got flung across the room into a wall.

"Sam!" Dean and I shouted and ran to him.

"You okay?" Dean asked as he helped him up.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Sam yelled and started running.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean shouted, making him stop. "We still got to burn the body, you idiot. Come on."

Then Dean and I were flung into opposite walls, and the ghost of Maggie Briggs appeared and started approaching Dean.

A moment later, she went up in flames, and Sam stood next to her grave, holding a can of lighter fluid. "Dude, that was sweet!"

Later on, we went to a bar to celebrate and have some food.

Our waitress brought over two more beers and tea for us and then cleared our empty glasses. "Here you go, guys."

"Ya know, do me a favor, sweetheart. Would you bring me a cheeseburger with extra bacon? And fry an egg on top of it, would you?" Dean asked.

"I'll have one too, please," I said.

The waitress smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

"Oh, that— that sounds good. Ditto," Sam said.

"Be right back with your order." The waitress smiled and walked off.

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Sam?" Dean asked.

"Wha— What do you mean?" Sam asked nervously.

"Bacon cheeseburgers now?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I eat them, don't I? Anyways, we are celebrating." He lifted his glass.

"Yeah, I guess. Another one bites the dust. Nice work today," Dean said and clinked his glass to Sam's before taking a sip.

"You too. I had a, uh, really awesome day, man. Seriously." Sam downed his beer and slammed it on the table. "Whoo! Sweet."

"A really awesome day?" Dean asked, surprised by how Sam was acting.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Why not?"

Dean shrugged. "It was a random, D-list ghost hunt. That's— That's awesome to you?"

"I can't be in a good mood?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I just—" Dean shook his head. "No, actually. It's not really your style, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "Well, then, it's a new me. I mean, come on. Why shouldn't I be happy? I've got a gun, I'm getting drunk, and..." He pointed to his face. "I look like this." He sighed. "I don't know. You ever feel like your whole future is being decided for you?"

Dean nodded. "Uh, yeah, Sam, I feel like that a lot."

Sam shook his head. "No matter how much you fight it, you can't stop the plan. The stupid... stupid plan. So, I don't know. I guess it's, uh— it's just nice to do a little ass-kicking for a change, that's all." He shook his head. "Uh, ya know what? I— I'm drunk." He chuckled. "Sorry. Just— Just forget it."

Dean shook his head. "No, no. It's all right. It's, uh— I'll drink to that."

They clinked their glasses together, and Dean took another swig.

"Wow, ya know, is it just me, or are we actually drinking together?" Dean chuckled.

"We don't do it that often, huh?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you could say that." Dean scoffed.

"Well, we should. You're a good guy, Dean." Sam smiled.

Dean laughed. "Oh, you are drunk."

The waitress walked up and set our food down on the table. "Here you go."

Dean looked down at the food, practically drooling. "Mmm. Thank you."

"Enjoy." The waitress smiled and walked away.

Sam shook his head. "No, but I mean it. You really are a good guy." He took a bite out of his burger. "Mmm! The bread alone! Mmm!"

A little bit later, Sam walked up to the bar to grab some shots and talk to some woman. Shortly after that, he and the woman walked past us to the door.

Sam stopped at the door and turned to us with an excited smile. "We're gonna do it!" He giggled and walked out with the woman.

I looked at Dean. "Okay, what is wrong with him?"

Dean and I decided to set up a trap for "Sam" because something was definitely off with him. Plus, we had a million messages on our motel answering machine from someone claiming to be Sam in another body. So, we decided to set up the beds with pillows to make it look like we were sleeping. Then we hid and waited to see what he would do. About a half-hour or so later, Sam came walking in and looked at our fake bodies sleeping and drew his gun.

Dean stepped out. "You're not Sam."

The imposter turned, and Dean punched him.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked.

"Ow!" the imposter yelled and dropped the gun.

Dean manhandled the imposter and tied him to a chair in the middle of the room. He walked over to the motel phone and pressed play.

Beep!

"You have thirty-eight messages," arobotic woman said.

Beep!

An unfamiliar man's voice came through, "This is going to sound crazy... really crazy... but, um, I think I'm in the wrong body."

Beep!

"Guys! The guy right next to you is not me!" the man yelled.

Beep!

"Check your friggin' voicemails. Damn it," the man said.

Dean clicked the answering machine off and turned to the imposter. "All right, pal. Either you start talking, or I start waterboarding."

The imposter shook his head, looking completely terrified. "Oh, my god. Please, don't hurt me. Please! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Hey, pull it together, champ." Dean scoffed.

The imposter shook his head. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die."

"Where's Sam?" I asked.

"In my— my friend's basement," the imposter stuttered, "His parents are out of town."

"Parents?" Dean asked, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," the imposter whimpered.

"Seventeen?" Dean shrugged. "Huh."

Out of nowhere, the door burst open, and Dean and I were flung into the wall. Dean was knocked unconscious, and my head was throbbing.

"Nora?" the imposter asked.

The demon's eyes turned black. "Not at the moment." She untied the imposter. "Boy, you earned your dessert tonight, kiddo. Tell me... what is it you want? Anything."

I grabbed the back of my head and pulled my hand back to see blood dripping off of it.

"Anything?" the imposter asked excitedly.

The demon nodded. "Lay it on me."

"I want to be a witch. For real. And really powerful." The imposter smiled.

The demon nodded. "Mm-hmm. Good choice. I get it. No daddy, no MIT. No plan. You get to be big and strong, and no one can tell you what to do anymore. There's just one small formality first." She smiled. "You got to meet the boss."

"The boss?" the imposter asked.

The demon nodded. "You know... your satanic majesty, or whatever the kids are calling it these days."

"The Devil?" the imposter asked.

The demon smiled. "Mm-hmm."

The imposter shook his head. "Uh... no. O— Okay. Um, it's okay. I... don't really want to bother him."

"Oh, but he's gonna want to meet you." The demon smiled.

"Don't listen to her!" I yelled as I sat up, knowing exactly what her plan was.

The demon put her hand out toward me, and I started to gasp and choke.

She turned back to the imposter and put her hand on his shoulder. "Relax. It'll be easy. He's just gonna ask you one little question, and all you got to do is say 'yes.' And then, you get your reward."

Dean lunged forward and took a swing at the demon with the demon blade, but she caught his arm, threw him to the ground, and kicked him. Thankfully, she dropped her hold on me, and I jumped up.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus," the imposter started reciting.

The demon turned to him with fury in her eyes. "What was that?"

"Uh, noth— nothing," the imposter stuttered.

"Were you trying to exorcise me?! You little piece of crap!" she yelled and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

I stood up. "Spiritus, omnis satanica potestas."

The demon turned to me, glaring.

"Omnis incursio infernalis adversii," Dean continued.

"Omnis congregatio," the imposter recited.

"Et secta diabolica," I said, causing the demon to finally start to shake and freak out.

"Ergo, draco maledicte," Dean said, and the demon screamed out in pain.

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire," the imposter said.

"Te rogamus," I said.

"Adios, bitch!" Dean yelled.

"Uh, it's adinos." The imposter corrected.

Then black smoke poured out of the demon's screaming mouth.

The smoke exited through a vent in the wall, and Nora collapsed to the ground.

We drove to the house that Sam was being held in. After untying him and discovering that their friend had been killed by the demon. The seventeen-year-old imposter, Gary, and Nora led us into a living room. At that point, Gary gathered the things he needed for the spell to switch him and Sam back to normal. Nora was wrapped in a blanket while Dean and I watched over Gary to make sure he wasn't pulling anything sneaky.

Gary had random ingredients and a bowl on the center of a table. He and Sam sat opposite each other.

"Animae domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoritate, sic fiat," Gary recited and then dropped powder into the bowl, which caused it to flame up.

The lights flickered, and then Sam stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, relieved.

"So, we good?" Dean asked.

Sam turned back to us and smiled. "Yeah. We're good." He patted his body. "Oh, man, it's nice to be back."

"Yeah. Awesome." Gary scoffed.

"So..." Dean cleared his throat. "Gary."

"I know..." Gary nodded. "My bad."

"My bad?" I scoffed.

Dean shook his head. "Kid, my bad ain't gonna cut it. See, if you were of voting age... you'd be dead. Because we would kill you. So either you straighten up and fly right, or we will kill you. Are we clear?"

Gary's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Crystal."

"Good," Dean said.

Dean parked the Impala in Gary's driveway, and we all stepped out.

Gary looked up at his house and sighed. "Crap."

"Gary, take it from someone who knows... chin up, man. Your life ain't that bad," Sam said.

"Uh, you met my parents," Gary said.

"Yeah. So what?" Sam asked. "It's your life. You don't like their plan for you, tell them to cram it. Rebel a little bit. In a healthy, non-satanic way, of course." He looked over his shoulder to make sure Nora was walking up to the house and then turned back to Gary. "By the way, ya know why Nora's into witchcraft?"

Gary shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"She doesn't like Satan, you moron." Sam smirked. "She likes you."

"Really?" Gary asked and glanced at Nora, who was now waiting for him at the door. "You think?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I know. I'm telling you, kid..." He shook his head and chuckled. "I wish I had your life."

"You do?" Gary asked, surprised. "Thanks."

Sam smirked and nodded up to the house. "Get out of here."

We watched as Gary and Nora disappeared into the house.

"That was a nice thing to say," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "I totally lied. That kid's life sucked ass." He laughed, and we all got back into the Impala. "All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me... we didn't miss a damn thing."

Dean shrugged. "Or we don't know what we're missing." He started the engine, and Rock 'n' Roll Never Forgets started playing loudly.

"Oh, come on, man. Turn it down." Sam groaned.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned the radio down. "Welcome back, Kotter."