Author's Notes: I hope that this chapter makes sense. It is written in 3 parts, 1 for each of the characters. The parts are not necessarily consecutive or concurrent, but over-lapping. And, while I usually write in 3rd person past tense, there are bits here that are 1st person present. I hope it is not too confusing!

Welcome to the Club

Did you catch the fever
Flying toward the moon?
Sailing in space to a distant shore
You kind of wondered what they came here for

Moon Crazy, Blue Oyster Cult

Dean

It's in his room. I can't see it, but I know it is there. It's too close to the baby, my little brother. I have to see.

Four-year old Dean, knowing it is way past his bedtime, climbs out of bed as quietly as he can and tiptoes across the hall to his brother's bedroom. He sees a man, or something resembling a man, looking down into the crib where his brother is whimpering. He takes a hesitant step forward but then hears his mother's steps in the hallway, coming closer.

No time to run back to my room. There's a dark shadow in the corner. I can hide there and then slip out when Mommy is looking at Sammy.

When Mommy comes into the room, the man turns and tells her, "Shhh…"

Here she comes, thinks Dean from the Hallway, and runs back to his room and throws the covers over his head. But Mommy returns, running up the stairs, calling for Sam. Quiet, then all Dean can hear is the scream.

"Dean," Daddy yells while smoke pours from Sammy's room. "Take Sammy!" Protect Sammy!

"Dean," Daddy yells again, trying to block the image of Mommy on fire, on the ceiling. "Take Sammy outside!" Save Sammy! "Run Dean!" Fight for him!

And Dean runs, but he doesn't have the baby in his arms. He is 26 and running up the stairs to Sam's apartment. There's Sam lying on his bed beneath a ceiling full of flames once again. Only this time, the fire holds Jessica. And Sam is no longer a baby, but is still unable to move.

"No!" Sam screams. Dean! "No, Jess!" Protect Sammy! Save Sammy! Fight for him!

Running into the room, Dean grabs his brother and pulls him to safety. He stops to catch his breath, and Sam is gone.

……….

Dean woke up gradually. His body didn't ache the way it did the morning before, but there was still enough lingering pain to make him move slowly. He turned his head to look at the clock on the nightstand, but instead saw the empty bed across from him. Suddenly, he was awake. Fear.

He scanned the room, looked out the window, Sam wasn't there. Trepidation.

Dean turned to the door connecting their room with Kole's and pushed it open slowly and quietly. When there was just room for him to fit through, he walked in and saw Sam asleep on the nearer bed. Hopefully he was asleep. From Dean's angle, he couldn't be sure that Sam was breathing. Panic.

"Sam?" he whispered softly as he tiptoed to the bed. Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw it. Again. It was the figure he had been trying to push from his mind for 22 years. It was dark and didn't make a sound as it moved behind him. Terror!

As it reached out, he heard a low, "Shhh…" Protect Sammy! Save Sammy! Fight for him!

Dean spun around quickly, grabbed the figure by the neck with his left hand, slammed it against the wall, and pulled his right hand back, poised to strike. But Sam's voice stopped him.

"Dean, no!"

Then, he was sleepwalking. He only vaguely remembered Kole defending herself and Sam telling him to back down. He barely felt the steps he took back to his room, to his bed, and when he sat down. He was cold and his entire body was shaking.

When Sam came in and began talking, the words were thick and deep, like a record being played too slowly. But when Dean spoke, he heard himself babbling, words spilling from his mouth, as the record was sped up too fast. It was too much. He couldn't control the speed of life, his own breathing, the coldness that wrapped around him like an unwanted blanket. He fought with his own brain to focus but the inner workings of his mind slowed to a stop.

Until an unexpected slap stung his left cheek. It started the gears moving again, slowly, but little by little he awoke as if for the first time that day.

The sound of a door slamming made him jump. He looked around his room confused, and saw Sam lying on the floor holding himself and gritting his teeth.

"What's going on?" he asked as he slid off the bed to see if Sam was OK.

"Kole," Sam roared. He mumbled something that Dean could not understand, but still knew that something was wrong. Sam, with some effort, got himself into a kneeling position and Dean saw him grab a knife from the floor.

"Sam," Dean said with surprise, "what are you doing?"

Between a cluster of rantings, including 'she won't get away with this', 'I'll make her pay', and 'she'll be sorry', Sam made his way to the door of their room with the knife clenched in his fist.

"Sam," Dean found his voice as he got up to meet his brother. Sam turned to face him and Dean did the first and only thing he could think of. He slapped Sam hard across the face.

Sam

I don't want to hurt him. You can't make me hurt my brother.

But Sam knows he's wrong, even as he is thinking it because at the same time, he is also thinking…

Stupid… pathetic… loser… control-freak… daddy's boy…

And there's a laugh. It's not Sam's; it's the mad ghost doctor laughing. He is so proud of himself, Sam can tell. It's as if they are one. Almost. The doctor is in control. He is taking Sam's innermost dislikes and pet peeves and twisting them until they are more, intensifying them until they are feelings of full-blown hatred and loathing.

But there is still a small part of Sam trying to regain control, trying to fight but just not strong enough.

No! I can't hurt him. I don't want to. He's my brother.

But there he is, shooting Dean in the chest. No, luckily only with rock salt, but the irate side of him is already trying to find a way to do more damage.

No! Stop! I don't want to hurt him!

And he is starting to get mad. The part of Sam that is trying to stay in control is getting angry at the part of him that wants to hurt Dean. And he realizes too late that he is giving in to the rage. Despite the old saying, it is impossible to fight fire with fire. You can not fight anger with anger, evil with evil, madness with madness.

Sam is only feeding the inferno. Both parts of him are angry now. One at Dean and the other at himself. It's a downward spiral and he knows it but he can't stop falling, let alone come back up.

……….

Sam woke up when he heard his name, sat up at the sounds of a struggle in the room, and was completely alert by the time he saw Dean with his hand on Kole's throat.

"Dean, no!"

All Sam could do was watch as his brother was kneed in the stomach and struck in the face. But, when he realized that Dean and Kole might not be finished with their battle, he jumped from the bed.

"Hey," Sam shouted, placing himself between them, "Mr. And Mrs. Smith! Why don't you two take your separate corners?"

Sam watched as Dean walked back to their room. Kole seemed to relax as well, so he followed Dean.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "I know I made the crack last night about you not being at your best, but that was… that was…" Sam stopped yelling and looked at his brother. "Dean?"

His brother was speaking quickly, and wasn't making much sense. Something about a dream and 'him'.

"Dean," Sam started to panic, "what are you talking about, man?" He's my brother.

Dean's eyes were dark and hollow, something Sam had never seen before. Sam hurried over and sat next to him. Dean took a deep breath and began speaking again. It was still quick, but also emotionless. Dean was talking about the night their mother died and seemed to think he could have prevented it. No, you will not hurt him again.

"No, Dean," Sam said angrily. "Dean, you can't blame yourself. You can't… Dean? Dean!"

But Dean didn't look at him, didn't move. He just sat there and stared at nothing. Sam moved from the bed to squat down in front of him to try and look him in the eye. Dean remained frozen. No! I will not let him be hurt again! Not by me or anyone else!

"Guys?" Kole's soft voice entered the room. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. It's like he just shut down." I'll get you help. I won't let anyone hurt you.

"Dean isn't bipolar or schizophrenic is he?" Kole had the nerve to blurt out.

"No!" I won't let you hurt him…

"Dean?" Kole said softly. "Dean?" a little louder. Then, she slapped him.

"Hey," Sam yelled and pushed her roughly, knocking her to the floor. You can't…

Kole began to try and explain, to defend herself, but Sam was no longer listening. He had gotten to his feet and took a step forward menacingly and she tried to back away.

"Just who do you think you are?" he said as he kicked her legs out from under her. I will NOT let you hurt my brother anymore!

"Sam, what's going on?"

"Sam, what's going on? I'll tell you what's going on. I'm thinking of finishing what the boys back at your house couldn't." And without looking away from her, he picked up a knife from the dresser. You won't hurt anyone ever again.

He liked the look of fear in her eyes. It meant she understood, and if she understood, then he was right. She needed to be stopped. He would not allow his brother to be hurt by anyone again.

As Sam lifted the knife above his head, crouching down, ready to strike, Kole kicked her foot up hard to meet his groin. The pain that radiated through his body only distracted him until he could once again move.

"What's going on?" Dean's voice, something that should have given him reassurance, was dismissed as background noise.

"Kole," Sam growled. "You can't get away from me that easy." Sam painfully rolled himself into a kneeling position, grabbed the knife from where it had fallen, and stood up.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"She can't hurt you. She won't get away with this. I'll make her pay for what she did. I'll make sure she's sorry for what she did." Sam was mumbling, barely able to hold onto one thought before the next one began.

"Sam!" Dean's voice made Sam flinch, having finally reached Sam's brain. He turned to face Dean and was promptly slapped hard across the face.

"What was that for?" Sam asked, rubbing his face.

"You tell me," Dean said. "You were the one that was charging after Kole with a knife."

Sam's eyes grew wide. He looked down and saw the knife next to his right shoe.

"Dean… I…" Sam stuttered.

"We can figure it out later. We need to find Kole."

Kole

She ran as fast as she could, trying to get out of sight before Sam could get up and try to follow her. If they were anything like their father, Dean and Sam were good trackers and she didn't want to make things any easier for them.

She hit the main road and stopped, looking one way then the other. She hadn't been paying attention during the drive the night before and had no idea where she was. All she knew was that she didn't want to head back to the college.

She began jogging the opposite wayshe thought they had come from and was soon greeted with a few small buildings. There was a gas station or two, a family owned diner and a couple different burger chains, and a few Mom & Pop type shops. Coming closer to the gas stations, she saw that one had a coffee shop inside. She took a deep breath and stepped in.

Choosing a booth in the back of the shop, near the emergency exit, Kole sat and put her face in her hands.

"What can I get you?" the waiter, having come surprising quick, made her jump. He was 20 at the most, tall and broad-shouldered, and had a sweet smile. Probably the guy that everyone in school would have hated, except that he was too nice.

"Are you OK, ma'am?" Well, so much for the 'too nice' stuff. I'm not a ma'am yet! But, there was genuine concern in the boy's voice.

"I'm fine," Kole lied, but then looked at her reflection in the silver napkin dispenser and cringed. She was a wreck. She looked back up at the worried waiter and smiled, "Minor car accident."

The explanation seemed to pacify him. He took her order and then left.

The menu told her that she was in Stillwater, which meant very little. Kole pulled out her cell phone and paused. There was no one for her to call. She hoped that Jane hadn't been involved in the cult gathering at her house, but she couldn't be sure. She also didn't want to put Jane in any danger by trying to reach her if she wasn't involved.

The only other person she could think to call was John Winchester. She had his number, but had never called it. She had never needed to. John seemed to appear when she needed him, like her own personal guardian angel or super hero. He was the one who pulled her out of a burning house when her father, John's brother, was killed. He showed up on a few occasions when she was in college and just needed someone, like a parent, to talk to.

But, two Winchesters had already attacked her today, why push her luck and make it three?

Kole was just putting her phone away when Tony, her waiter, came back with her coffee.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked. "We have donuts, muffins, some excellent egg dishes…"

"No, I'm not hungry," Kole said, appreciative of his concern. "But thank you. Do you have any bus schedules?"

"I think so. Let me check." And Tony left once more.

Kole had leaned over and was searching her backpack when another voice made her jump.

"Should an insomniac really be drinking coffee?" Dean asked, standing at the edge of the bench. Sam was standing, blocking the opposite bench, though no one was in it. Kole was contemplating her next move when Tony came back.

"Excuse me," Tony said, his voice a little deeper than it had been and Kole noticed that he was flexing a bit. "Is there a problem here?"

"No problem here, Sport," Dean smirked. Dean and Tony looked at each other for a moment, then Tony turned to Sam, then Kole.

"They weren't involved in your… car accident… were they?" Tony asked, looking conspiratorial.

"Car accident?" Dean and Sam said at once and looked at Kole with worried expressions.

"No," she sighed, "actually, they're the ones who helped me out of it."

Tony nodded, handed Kole the bus schedules, and walked away, but her made sure to keep an eye on the table.

"Can we talk?" Dean asked. Kole took a deep breath and looked from one brother to the other.

"Sure Joan," she said with a humorless smile, and indicated that they should both sit on the other side of the booth, "we can talk."