I wake up slightly panicked before I remember that I'm not in the basement of that place anymore. As tired as I was after that ordeal, I'd needed to shower last night to try and get the feel of that place off of my skin. Unfortunately, a simple shower can't erase the memories in my brain, the images imprinted behind my eyes of my mother, of Jessica. I'd thought I was ready to face my fear that I'm responsible for their deaths, but that fear apparently runs deeper than I'd been aware of. I try not to think about that, but still, it bothers me that this demon, and the one on the plane for that matter, seemed to know all about what happened to Mom and Jess. How could they both know that?

I push back the covers and sit up. Dean's still sleeping, snoring the way he does when he sleeps after being over-exhausted. I decide not to wake him despite the fact that I really want to talk to him about exactly what happened last night. Instead, I resolve myself to go check on Lindy and see if it's possibly easier to get the story out of her than my brother.

When I peek into her room, I find Lindy awake. She's sitting up on her bed and staring at nothing, still wearing the same clothes we put her into her bed in last night. I feel that maybe I should make my presence known so I gently clear my throat and step into clear view in the doorway.

"Oh, hi, Sam." she says in a deceptively casual way.

"Hey, Lindy." I reply, stepping further into the room, "I was wondering if I could talk to you about what happened last night. You know, after we were separated."

Lindy's eyes seem to lose some of the glaze on them and she meets my eyes directly. She's slow to respond, so I move over and have a seat on the foot of her bed. But judging from the look on her face, I feel fairly certain that she's going to tell me what happened.

"After you…" she trails off, coughing before she continues. I notice dark bruises peaking out from under her hair around her neck when she looks down, fixing her gaze on the sheets, "The demon almost got Dean, too. So, I distracted it and we ran out of there. We didn't want to leave you, but we didn't know what to do. The demon was ready for you guys, Sam. It knew your names and everything. I think it set you up. But the thing was, I don't think it planned for me so, like an idiot, I thought that I could save the day, you know?"

She pauses again and I smile at her encouragingly. The way she's looking at me, I think she's afraid that I'm mad at her. I try to communicate silently that I am anything but mad. In fact, it kind of sounds like she saved my life.

"Okay, so, I told Dean all that, but he didn't like it. He kept trying to think of something else. Called your dad for help, too…"

I have to interrupt her there, "He called Dad?"

She looks up at me, apparently not understanding what the big deal is, "Yeah, left a message. He didn't call back, though, so Dean agreed to my plan. We decided to use some exorcism ritual that Dean said you guys had used on an airplane demon before. He tried to prepare me to fight it, too, not that it did any good in the end. It was too strong."

She stops again, fidgeting with the blankets over her legs. I put a hand out to stop hers, seeking her eyes with mine, "It's okay, Lindy. Everything's okay."

She nods quickly, "Yeah, I guess. So, Dean and I went back in and the demon was waiting for us. But it didn't really pay much attention to me at first, just like I'd hoped. I guess that may be because it knew what I was doing and wanted me to finish that first part, the part that makes the demon material and extra-strong. And then, well, it became your mom, Sam. And she…strangled me. But Dean stopped her, distracted her. She said these terrible things."

"It wasn't her." I interject, more for my own sake than for her's. I don't even have to imagine what things the demon that looked like Mom said, I remember them.

"And then she became this demon thing and you appeared. At least, we thought it was you. And the demon put you on the ceiling and…god, Sam!" she breaks off, quickly looking away, but not before I see tears in her eyes.

"It wasn't me, either. It was a trick. I'm okay." I tell her, trying not to think about what she must have seen, what Dean must have seen.

She takes a few deep breaths and her voice is a little shaky, but she finishes telling me what happened, "So…uh…then you were gone and the demon was tormenting Dean. Then, it decided it was my turn, I guess, because I was trying to read the exorcism again. Something pushed me back against the wall and then dragged me up onto the ceiling. I didn't know what to do, but I thought maybe that if I could get the journal open…I don't know, maybe Dean could read the rest. So, I did that and I guess Dean got it 'cause that's what happened. He somehow managed to finish the exorcism even though the demon was choking him. It even transformed back into your mom and then into you, but the eyes… Weird thing was, when Dean saw it become you, he got this big smile on his face." she shakes her head, "Then, I fell."

"He figured it out." I realize, "He knew I wasn't dead."

"Guess so." Lindy agrees.

"Hey, we both owe you, Lindy." I tell her. If she hadn't thought to open the journal, remind Dean that it was a demon they were facing, who knows what might have happened. Who knows how much longer I could have taken the accusations without eventually believing them. Because I don't, do I? Wait, I'm not thinking about that. I force my attention away from my memories and back to Lindy, "How's your head?"

She smiles, "Hurts."

I make a quick decision in an attempt to both make her feel better and take care of Dean, "I was thinking that maybe we should crash here for a few more days until Dean looks less like hell. You staying?"

She sends me a supremely appreciative and relieved look, "Well, I sure don't feel like driving just yet."

"Cool." I agree.

Before either of us can say anything else, a rough and scratchy version of Dean's voice penetrates the room, "Sam!"

"Yeah, Dean?" I call back.

Dean stumbles into sight, still just dressed in a shirt and boxer shorts. He looks in desperate need of a shower.

"What the hell you doing with my girl?" he asks, absently scratching his head, his eyes still half-closed.

I laugh to myself at Dean's behavior, glancing at Lindy to see her reaction. She looks kind of stunned, but quickly recovers, an aggravated look taking over her features, "Who said I was your girl?"

Dean smiles that self-assured smile of his, "Oh, you did, babe. You're definitely a Dean girl."

"Should I be offended?" she asks me, "What does that mean?"

I shrug, not willing to get drawn into that conversation. Still, I'm secretly pleased that Dean and Lindy are hitting it off. I like Lindy. I haven't known her long but she clearly has a good soul and the kind of courage required to hang out with a Winchester. In my mind, she seems like the perfect girl for my brother. And who knows, maybe with a girl around, he'll stop flirting with everything and embarrassing the hell out of me.

"Hey, Sam, why don't you go get us some coffee or something." Dean phrases it like a question, but there's no mistaking it as a classic 'beat it' line. I roll my eyes to myself. Even though my insides are still upside down and inside out after the hell with that demon, Dean is still the same. That's comforting at least.

"Keys?" I ask.

Dean gestures with his head back into our room, "In my pants. Hey, gas up the Impala, too, while you're out."

I don't say anything, just get to my feet and head back into our room to get the keys. Truthfully, my mind has already regressed to those thoughts that I have been trying so hard not to think. It's like the second I stop focusing all my attention on something else, my brain resets to what happened last night. It wasn't my mom, it wasn't Jessica, I know that. It was a fear demon that was trying to mess with my head. But all the accusations it flung at me had come from somewhere in my own mind. And now that they've been dragged to the forefront of my consciousness, I can't seem to bury them again. But I can't let Dean know. No, that's priority number one right now. Dean must not know that I'm thinking about the possibility that I'm responsible for everything bad that has happened to our family and that maybe it's because I'm a curse, something evil. He'd beat the crap out of me if he knew regardless of the fact that we're not kids anymore.

I exit the hotel room and climb into Dean's car. I shut the door and wrap both hands around the wheel. I put the keys in the ignition and turn the car on. Dean's music blares out of the speakers, so I quickly turn down the volume. Even at its loudest, Dean's music can't drown out the sound of my mom's voice saying I'm not her son and the demon that killed her claiming me as his own.

I make it out of the parking lot and about five minutes down the road before I have to pull over. It's so easy to seem okay when there's someone else to reassure, but now, by myself, I feel like I have to scream or cry or something. I wonder for a crazed moment if I'm still in the demon's trap, if this is just another deranged scenario meant to break me. How could I tell?

I throw the door open and jump out of the car, pacing next to it on the all but deserted highway. All I've been able to think about these past couple months is revenge, for my mom and for Jess. But what if I get what I think I want? What if we somehow manage to kill the demon and nothing changes? What if it's revenge against myself I'm really seeking?

I yell wordlessly in frustration and almost forget myself enough to punch Dean's car, but even in my current mental state I know that I can't hurt Dean's baby. So, I whirl away from the car, stomping furiously at the dirt under my feet. There's no answer to this. There's no way for me to come to grips with this. There's just no way.

I don't feel evil. I try to do good every day. I try to help people. And yet I killed my mom and the woman I loved, setting what remains of my family on a quest for revenge that will almost certainly end in their deaths, as well.

I can almost hear Dean arguing with me. 'Sam, you were just a baby. No matter what kind of super psychic abilities you might have, you couldn't have saved Mom and you are not responsible. Evil demons attack and kill people. That's what they do. You didn't create the demon. You didn't ask for it to take Mom and Jess.'

No, but I'm the common denominator. If I hadn't been tied to both of them, they'd still be alive.

'Get over yourself, Sam. This demon has killed a lot of other people who you've had nothing to do with. Not everything is about you.'

No, not everything. But this is.

'Sam, I changed your diapers. That's the most evil you've ever been. Stop thinking like this before I kick your ass!'

Sorry, Dean. I can't.

My back hits the side of the Impala as I sink to the ground. The tears I'd hidden from my brother last night spring back to my eyes. I wipe at them frantically with my hands, but I can't stop the flow. I feel disgusted with myself, but I feel like everything is out of my hands, like I'm just a pawn in something bigger that I can't control. I hate the feeling and I hate that I can't fight this. I need something I can fight.

I stiffen and the tears stop. I wonder what the chances are of me finding someone drunk enough to fight me for no good reason. Then, I laugh at myself for being an idiot. It's not like I can join a fight club or something. I should just shove all this as far out of my mind as possible and take this out on the next bad thing that dares to draw the attention of the Winchesters. I should take it all out on the damn demon that killed Mom and Jess. Then, at least maybe the accusations will quiet because it won't be around to voice them. Then, maybe Dean and Dad will stop looking for things that will gladly end their lives and I won't have to worry about them anymore.

I shake my head at myself. I don't really believe Dad and Dean will stop hunting. Dean and I were raised to hunt and it's all Dad knows how to do anymore. No, they won't stop until they're forced to. Just like the things they hunt.

My cell phone rings. I curse mentally and force myself to take a few deep breathes and calm down before I answer.

"Hey, Sammy, Lindy was wondering if you could get her some girlie drink, what was it? Ow! Hey, don't hit. A chai tea. She claims it was on the menu." Dean's upbeat voice makes my dark thoughts stand out in contrast.

"Uh…yeah, sure." I say, praying that Dean won't pick up on anything in my voice.

Unfortunately, my brother knows me too well, "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." I lie.

Dean's quiet for a moment and I'm almost certain he's not buying it. I hold my breath and wait for him to say something.

"If you say so, Sammy." he says slowly, "Hurry up, will you?"

I let my breath out, thankful that Dean's let this slide, at least for now, "Yeah, I'm going. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

I hang up and after a brief pause to collect myself a little more, I get up. I walk around the car and get back in. I even manage to drive all the way to the local diner to get coffee and tea and back to the motel again without thinking anything beyond how to function. Maybe I can relegate future consideration about my responsibility in my loved ones' deaths and what that says about me to those sleepless nights like before. As long as I can find a way to keep anyone else from knowing about this and keep it from interfering with what we do. I've accepted that it won't go away, that I believe it too much. But as long as I can keep it inside everything will be okay.