The little girl, Sari, was in uncontrollable tears, and she looked at Dean, who had just asked where Sam was. "He's inside," she cried, nodding toward the house and then looking at her mother. She glanced from her, to me, then back at Dean. She looked like she was unsure that what she was about to say was true. "...somethings got him..." she added to the end, in a sniffly voice.

Dean and I exchanged knowing glances, and Dean rushed to the trunk of the Impala. I followed him, but he shot me a look. I knew what he was going to say, but I wasn't going to buy it. Still, I let him argue his point. "You're not going in there, Page. You stay out here with Jenny and..."

I shook my head. "Dean. You know as well as I do that there is nothing you can say to prevent me from going in there. So, why don't you just hand me a gun and give it up, so we can get in there quicker and save Sam," I told him, watching as Dean agreed, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. I took the shotgun he handed me, and rushed to the door with him, watching helplessly as he chopped at it with an axe. Peering in through the window, I saw Sam be flung violently against a set of cabinets, and stand up sluggishly...and then...I watched him get pinned to the wall by...something? Nothing? I didn't even know what was going on. "Hurry, Dean...please..."

Dean chopped a hole in the door, large enough for us to crawl through, and we climbed in. Dean started shouting for Sam, "Sam? Sam!" he called out throughout the house.

I directed him to the living room, and pulled my gun before going around the corner. "He's in here!" I called out, watching as Dean followed me. We got into the room, and Dean pushed in front of me as he saw Sam...being approached by—God, I could only describe it as a human on fire. We raised our guns and aimed at it.

"No! Don't!" Sam struggled out, turning his eyes to us. "Don't!"

"What?" I asked, looking on with a confused face. Sam was...going to let this thing kill him?

"Why?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam's face curved into a confused smile. "Because...I can see who she is now..."

Dean and I glanced at one another, and I lowered my gun, listening to what Sam told me. Dean didn't right away, but he glanced at the figure before us. What happened next, it could only be described as...miraculous. The fire around the figure vanished. And...it was Mary Winchester. I recognized her from photos that Sam had shared with me. My eyes widened, and I looked at Sam, who wasn't sure what to think, then to Dean, who slowly lowered his weapon. "Mom?" he whispered, tears forming in his eyes as he took a step toward her. And I had to admit, I'd never seen that man cry before.

Mary looked at Dean and smiled gently. "Dean..." she glanced at me for a moment and nodded. I...was speechless. She was beautiful. And, she gave me a look, like she knew who I was. She smiled an all knowing smile, nodded her head, then turned away. She turned and walked toward Sam. "Sam..." she spoke gently, her smile fading slowly. "...I'm sorry..."

Sam was still smiling, but he had tears in his eyes, as well as a confused glance. "For what?" he asked, trying not to sob uncontrollably.

Mary didn't say anything. She simply looked at him sadly for another moment, then turned around and walked away from all of us, toward the middle of the room. "You," she said with a glance toward the ceiling. "Get out of my house," she commanded to...I wasn't quite sure who. "And let go of my son!" she said, and with that...she burst into flame. Dean and I stared in amazement as the flames engulfed her body, then seemed to leap into the ceiling.

Sam fell from the wall, and into a heap on the floor. He quickly stood up, and walked toward us slowly. "Now it's over," he said as he looked at Dean, wiping the tears from his eyes. He turned to look at me, and we slowly made our way out of the house.

That night, at the hotel, I don't think I had ever fallen asleep so easily in my life. But within a couple of hours, I was awoken again. Not by anything in particular. Just...because I couldn't sleep. I looked to the floor where Sam was supposed to be sleeping, and saw that...he wasn't there? Well, I wasn't worried. I knew that sometimes he liked to go outside and just, be alone. Look at the sky and be all...deep and...Sam-ish. And tonight, after what happened, I didn't know if he should be alone. I got out of bed and, quietly, so not to wake Dean, made my way toward the door. Peering out the back window, I looked around for Sam. But saw nothing. And then the worry set in. I walked out the sliding glass door to the small porch and looked around, until, finally, I saw Sam's figure, laying in the grass a few hundred feet away. He had his arms behind his head and his knees pointing toward the sky.

I walked over to him and took a seat in the grass. "You okay, Sammy?" I asked. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could call him Sammy. Even Jess had called him Sam. But I could call him Sammy. And did so. All the time. And that fact always made me feel so special.

He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. "As okay as I can be, I guess..." he half-laughed. "I just saw my mom's ghost, and I don't ever remember seeing her in the flesh, you know? I guess it's just...kind of weird."

I nodded. I felt horrible for Sam. Sure, I was in the same boat as him. But, God, the poor guy was going through complete and total hell over this. Everything seemed to be teaming up to make his life hell, and it wasn't fair. I was going to end everything that had hurt him. And everything that had hurt my family. "Yeah, I can see that..." I said, noticing that the grass was itching my legs below my pajama shorts.

He sat up and looked at me. "I...don't know. I mean, I..." he paused. "Dean got a chance to know her. I don't know what's better...having a chance to know the one you love and then losing them, or not even getting the opportunity. I've been through them both and as far as I can see they both fucking suck..." he looked at the ground. "I just..."

I nodded, and waited until he stopped to reply. "I was just thinking about that myself. And, I mean..." I looked away from him. "They're both painful. There's just...no win. I think, maybe...the way we win is...trying not to dwell on it all the time," I shrugged. "I mean, I know it's hard, since we face off against these things every day. But, like...maybe we should focus our free time energy on...things less—I don't know—depressing?"

He glanced at me, and a grin came across his face. "What did you have in mind?"

I shrugged and smiled. "I don't know. Maybe next time, we can go to the movies or something, rather than stay home after we finish, and moping about what happened. Distractions could be welcomed, you know?" I turned a little red. That sounded really...datish. And he was going to laugh at me. And I was going to feel like an ass for suggesting a datish distraction to my best friend. Who probably looked at me and saw a sister. But...I looked at him and saw...God, I saw so much. I waited for him to answer.

He smiled and nodded his head. "That...sounds awesome. I think the distraction would be...really good," he nodded and stood up. "You think it's time for bed yet?" he asked me with a slight grin, nodding back toward the hotel room.

That grin, coupled with those words...God, that wasn't fair. But, I nodded and pulled myself from the ground. Sam would most likely go back to his place on the floor, and I on the bed. I crawled into bed, and rolled onto my left side, preparing to try and fall back to sleep. Sam had become something of a warm, security thing to me since that day at my house when we shared my parents' bed. And the nights when we didn't stay in the same bed were...hard nights for me. I stared at the wall, when I felt Sam's warm hand touch my shoulder. I turned over and looked at him.

"Mind a little company?" he asked as he lifted the corner of the blankets.

I smiled and shook my head, rolling the rest of the way over. "I never mind your company, Sammy," I told him softly. I assumed my usual position, curled into his chest, with him holding onto me. It was kind of scary. How he could take everything and make it seem...less important. I curled into his chest and smiled. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Page..." he whispered.