Deana: ok, let's just skip Sammy's little reel and get right down to it. Basically, this is another universe. Sam and Dean are 14 and 16 respectively and this is an alternate version of their childhood. One fraught with such risk, who's to say they survived it here?

Samantha: Honestly Dean and you complain about me sounding mystic. There aren't really any warnings for this chapter...except for the cliff-hanger end.

Deana: Yeah, and you can blame her for that, I had nothing to do with it.

Samantha: You could have stopped me. Also, we didn't do this last time so this goes for the whole story, and probably all our stories: We do not own anything to do with Supernatural or anything in this fic that you recognise.

Deana: Except for Sarah, Jessica and their parents...or what's left of them

Samantha: DEAN, stop spoiling it -sigh- this is becoming a bit of a habit -leads giggling Deana away-

Unspoken Words by Samantha (with a little editing from Deana)

CHAPTER 2: And Then It Hit Him

Sam lay on his bed and watched the reflected moonlight play on the dark ceiling. He listened in the darkness, tears long dried on his cheeks. He shouldn't have said that to Dean, he was only trying to help.

Yeah right. The darker voice at the back of his mind laughed. If he really wanted to help you he'd let you go, he'd realize you didn't want to do this anymore.

Sam felt torn apart, he shouldn't have said that to his brother, it was horrible and unfair, but at the same time it was how he felt, at least some of the time. Was it wrong to tell the truth when you knew it would hurt people? People, Sam remembered guiltily, who where just trying to help.

He sighed and rolled over, peering at the clock. The luminous figures read 4:55. Great, just great, he wasn't even going to get any sleep before school. Sam started guiltily. It was Monday. He had history on Monday. And, unless the spirit which had kept them busy all weekend remembered and happened to have written down in its entire lifetime before they killed it, Sam hadn't done his history project. Whoops.

With a groan the fourteen year old dragged himself out of bed and over to the window, sleepily dragging in massive lungful of fresh air.

He stared muzzily down at the car park in time to see someone, or more likely, some thing, open the door to his brothers car.

"Dean." Sam hissed, turning away from the fresh air billowing through the window, suddenly wide awake "Dean!" he tried again crossing the dark room to his brothers rumpled, but empty bed.

Sam stared in puzzlement for a moment and then realized he hadn't heard his brother come in. With a grimace he remembered the horrible things he'd said to Dean. He might have forgotten them, but Dean probably hadn't.

He returned to the window. The figure was nowhere in sight and Sam wondered if it had been Dean. He sighed and turned away from the window again, flicking on the light as he went, might as well get started, if he got away early enough maybe he could finish at school.

He felt a breeze behind him and turned back toward the window. He blinked, something was weird. Then he realized that the moonlight in which he had stood was no longer on the sill. Strange. He walked slowly back over and, disregarding all of his training and his Father's constant warnings, stuck his head out over the sill and into the night.

"Hmmmmmmm." he peered up and down the length of the building and was about to pull his so recently saved head inside when it hit him. Extremely hard, and painfully.

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Samantha: Yep, we're back again, I think it's safe to assume that anyone who has actually bothered to read this far into the story knows what it's about by now. Nope, we don't own them. And Deana? -Looks nervously at Deana running around behind her chasing unseen butterflies- she's ok, just a little stressed right now. If you'll excuse me...-runs after Deana- Deana? Deana, put the knife DOWN.

Deana: Reviews make me happy –delirious laughter- REVIEWS! Ahhhaaaaa haaa haaa haaa