Dean steered the car down another side street, using the momentary pause at the stop sign to fiddle with the radio. Finding a particularly obnoxious song, he cranked the volume up to a nearly deafening volume, then turned to see what, if any reaction he would get. But Sam just sat there staring straight ahead, as he had been for the last half hour.

Dean slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Dammit, Sam." he muttered as he continued slowly down the street. Rolling down the window, he breathed in the cool air and tried clearing his head. Since leaving the library he'd tried everythinghe could think of, including a few well placed pinches,to snap Sam out of the daze he was in. Sam's lack of a response to the word Christo ruled out possession. That was something, at least. Dean was beginning to wonder if Sam had fallen ill; his cheeks were still very flushed, and that would possibly explain why he seemed so out of it.

As Dean looked critically at Sam's face, an idea began to form. Pulling over to the side of the road, he hopped out and grabbed a bottle of holy water from the trunk. He thought back to the attack in the guest house, when the creature…Monica, he corrected himself, straddled Sam, her hands pressed upon his face.

"That bitch did something to you, didn't she, Sammy." he mumbled as he opened the passenger door. Crouching next to the seat, Dean wet his handkerchief with the holy water and gently pressed it to his brother's cheek. Sam started at the sensation and took in a shuddering breath. Encouraged, Dean ran the cloth against Sam's other cheek, then jumped back as Sam gasped loudly, his back arching as his eyes darted around frantically.

Dean ducked in front of Sam, grabbing his shoulder and saying his name in a stern voice. "Sam…Sam, look at me. You're ok, just focus. Come on, dude, just breathe."

Sam seemed to get himself under control, and he weakly removed his brother's grip from his shoulder. Concerned that Sam still hadn't spoken, Dean continued. "Do you remember what happened?"

Sam's eyes took in the surroundings before sliding back to Dean. "We were in the library."

"That's good. And…?" Dean prodded.

"We were on our way to the mansion. Why am I wet? Hey, did you pinch my arm?" Sam rolled up his sleeve, twisting his arm to get a better look at the three red welts near his elbow.

Dean squirmed a bit uncomfortably. He searched his brain for a glib remark, something to mask his worry. "Yeah, well, next time you decide to imitate a catatonic mannequin I'll just sell you to the nearest American Eagle, how 'bout that?"

Sam looked bewildered. "How can a mannequin be catatonic? It's not alive…"

Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face. "Dude! Focus! Ok, this is just a theory, but I think Monica did something to you back at the guest house. When she grabbed your face, what do you remember?"

Sam's thoughts drifted back to the previous night. The guest house….Monica….the mansion. The mansion. His eyes widened. "Dean, we need to go back to the mansion!"

Here we go again, Dean thought to himself. "Why, Sam? Why do we need to go to the mansion?"

"Because," Sam broke off. He could not think of a valid reason. He just knew that they had to go. Now. "We just do."

Dean set his jaw. "We're not going anywhere near that place until we figure out what the hell is going on with you."

"Nothing's going on with me, I'm fine! But we need to head back there right away." Sam's restlessness grew with each passing second. He couldn't properly verbalize what he was feeling to his brother. He just knew in his gut, in his soul that they had to get moving.

"Well then, you'd better start walking, cause I am not taking you there." Dean headed back over to his side of the car. The holy water had provided a temporary fix, but whatever hold Monica seemed to have on Sam was strong, and Dean was at a loss on how to break it. He was about to consult the journal when Sam spoke.

"Get out."

Dean draped his arm over the steering wheel and turned to a seething Sam. "What did you say?"

"Either start driving, or get out."

Dean held up his hands in a peaceful manner. "Sure, Sam. Let's go grab a bite to eat. Remember, that was the original plan? We'll grab a bite, sort things out, and then maybe we can head over to the mansion."

Sam's temper had reached its boiling point. What was Dean's problem? Why couldn't he see they had to go there now? Sam felt like every cloud, every tree, every blade of grass was pointing the way to the mansion, as if guiding him there. He couldn't waste time arguing with his brother. If Dean didn't want to go, fine. He'd go without him.

Sam got out of the car and slammed the door with every ounce of strength he had, feeling a glimmer of satisfaction as he heard Dean's angry cries of protest. A few seconds later Sam heard another door shut, albeit a lot lighter, followed by heavy footsteps on the pavement.

"Sam, get back in the car, now!" Dean shouted.

Sam heard the footsteps grow louder as Dean began to catch up. Sam waited a moment, then spun around and struck out his fist, hitting Dean square on the jaw and knocking him to the ground. Dean sat up slowly; the shocked look on his face was mirrored in Sam's as he looked up at him.

Had he really just hit his brother? What was going on? Sam began to reach down to help him up when Dean leapt to his feet and grabbed Sam's shirt in both fists, pushing him up against a tree.

"Sam, you get your ass back in that car now or I swear I will tie you up and throw you in the damn trunk!"

Sam felt the world around him narrow down to justone fact. He had to get back to the mansion; it felt as if his life depended on it. Why would this man, his own flesh and blood keep him from that? No, he couldn't let Dean stop him. Sam brought his arms up swiftly and broke Dean's hold.

"I'm going, Dean, with or without you." Sam tried pushing past Dean, who in turn grabbed Sam's arm and twisted it back behind his back.

"Sorry, kid, I can't let you do that."

Using the very same move Dean had taught him when they were teenagers, Sam spun out of his grip and caught him with a hard left hook. Dean fell to the ground and lay still. Sam grabbedhim and dragged him off of the pavement and laid him on the grass. With a final look at his unconscious brother, Sam got into the car and sped away.