Here's a nice long chapter!

Sam threw his arms around his brother and hugged him as tightly as he could, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. Dean knelt there in shock for a few seconds and then returned the hug just as fiercely.

"It'll be okay." Sam whispered softly as the world blurred and seemed to darken around him. "You'll be okay…" he smiled faintly, took one last shaky breath, and died.

Dean knew it the moment it happened, the moment that he felt his brother go limp in his arms. Sam was dead. "Noooo…" he whimpered, hugging Sam tighter against his chest, as though by will alone he could bring him back. "No…no, no, no...Oh God, please no, not again…not again…Sammy!"

Sam stared down at the scene in shock. He was standing a few feet away where he had appeared only moments before, watching Dean sob uncontrollably over his body…his body…

With growing dread, Sam raised a hand in front of his face and discovered that he could see right through it. "I'm dead." he said slowly, the realization hitting him like a bucket of ice water. "I—I'm dead…"

Dean's heart-wrenching sobs continued, and as Sam stood unseen beside him he realized with a jolt that he had never ever heard his brother really cry before. Dean never cried; he was always calm and collected all the time, so together, so unwilling to ever betray even the slightest glimpse of what he was feeling…

"Dean…" Sam said, his voice breaking, "Dean, stop."

"Oh, isn't this touching!" A voice said gleefully. Dean's head jerked up, his eyes overflowing with tears. Mrs. Winters was standing right beside him.

"What the hell?" Sam blurted out, unheard. "Where did she come from??"

Mrs. Winters smiled at Dean, unaware of Sam's presence. "Whatever is the matter, Dean, gone and gotten your baby brother killed again?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You."

She laughed. "Is that really all you have to say to me? One word? I have to admit I'm more than a little disappointed…"

Dean gently lowered Sam's body to the ground and then stood up and glared at her. "You're somehow behind all of this, aren't you?"

"May-be." She said, her smile widening.

"I'm gonna kill you." Dean spat, looking murderous. "I swear—"

"Oh calm down," she interrupted, rolling her eyes, "It's not that bad. So your brother's dead—big deal. Boo-hoo, let's all cry." She smiled wickedly, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Come on Dean, admit it, you're soo much better off without him."

Dean swung his fist as hard as he could toward her head—and went right through her. His mouth dropped open. "What the hell??"

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"What are you?" he demanded angrily.

Instead of answering, she shut her eyes for a moment. Her whole image flickered and then instantly changed to that of a beautiful young brunette woman. When she opened her eyes they were icy blue.

"Well…" Sam said from where he was watching, confused. "This is slightly unexpected…"

Dean opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "Do you really want to know who I am, Dean?" she whispered, a twisted smile on her lips.

"Sure," Dean said menacingly, getting out a gun. "I'd love to know, it'll make it even easier to kill you. At this point I'm so pissed off I could shoot anyone."

"You're not going to kill me Dean…you can't…no one can." She laughed softly, "My real name is Rebecca Winters—but you already know all about me, remember? I already told you…"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Rebecca? You mean your great-grandmother who murdered all eight of her own children?"

"She's not my grandmother…she's me. I'm Rebecca."

"Sure you are." Dean said disbelievingly, shaking his head. His gaze fell on his brother's body and he quickly looked away. "So what is this, some kind of messed up nightmare?"

"No." she said calmly. "You're not dreaming. This is real."

"I refuse to believe that…Sam can't be dead." Dean said. He raised the gun and fired.

The bullet passed right through her as though she wasn't even there.

"Don't waste your time." She said dismissively. "I already told you, you can't kill me. I've been alive for over 200 years."

"And how exactly did you manage that, huh?"

"I have…certain abilities. You don't need to know the specifics…I have to admit, though, I feel a teensy-weensy bit bad that Sam's dead…I'd never met anyone else with abilities like mine before…"

"What abilities?"

She shook her head. "Why should I tell you? I don't owe you anything, Dean…"

"You killed my brother!" Dean yelled, "Now tell me what the hell you're talking about!"

She smiled. "Now Dean, that's hardly fair…after all, it was Jake that stabbed Sam, not me. However, I suppose I could humor you with answers just this once. So, you want to know about my abilities? Hmmm…let me see," she thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip, "Well, first off I can change my appearance at will—course you already know that since I totally fooled you with my helpless old woman look. Secondly, I am indestructible—Nothing can kill me, and I don't age. And finally," she said, her eyes shining, "I can travel backward and forwards through time as I please."

"Whoa." Sam said softly.

"You know what I think?" Dean said loudly. "I think you're totally insane and out of your damn mind."

"Is that so? Yet here we are, in the past…Guess what, Dean? I set you up from the moment you and Sam entered the Inn. Did you really believe that every single room in the Inn was full except Room 37? How silly of you."

"I knew it!" Sam said angrily, mentally kicking himself. "I knew something was going on!"

"What did you do?" Dean asked her.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently, playfully twirling a curl of her dark hair around her finger.

"You know perfectly well what I mean! What did you do?"

Rebecca laughed excitedly. "Oh, you're so cute when you're angry, Dean! It's sweet, really, how much you cared about Sam…who's dead…and the rest of your family…also dead. But hey, that's how it goes, right? It's a cruel world."

Dean let out an enraged yell. "Damn it, just answer the question!"

"Alright, I'll tell you." she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Did you know that Room 37 used to be my bedroom…back before I discovered my abilities some 200 years ago…" she looked up at Dean, who remained silent. "I'll take that as a no, then…I have to admit, Dean, I thought you would at least figure something out on your own. You are a hunter, after all. Apparently I gave you far too much credit."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't really that concerned with your life story—"

"Of course not, you were working on how to get Sam out of the room and save his life…" she looked down at Sam's body. "Oh my, that didn't go very well, did it? For you, anyway…in my case everything went splendidly, just like always."

"Shut up!" Dean yelled. "Just shut up!"

"Aww, but we're having such a nice chat…" she said pleasantly. "Tell me, Dean…now that Sam's dead, who are you planning on talking to? It's not like you have anyone else—"

Sam watched as Dean's entire face contorted in rage and he pointed his gun at Rebecca and began shooting at her. "Dean! Stop it!" he yelled desperately. "Don't listen to her, she's just provoking you! You can't let her get to you!"

Unsurprisingly, Dean didn't hear him, and kept on shooting. Sam yelled in frustration and looked away.

Rebecca stood there calmly until Dean had emptied the last of the clip and was out of bullets. She sighed and shook her head, "How many times do I have to tell you? You. Can't. Kill. Me."

"You're a murderer!"

"Yeah I know, I've killed…" she paused, thinking, and then shrugged. "You know what, I don't really know exactly how many people I've killed, but believe me, it's quite a high number. In retrospect, I probably should have kept better records, but I just never could find the time—the Inn is always so busy, after all."

"You mean it's just full of people for you to kill." Dean said sarcastically.

"Oh don't be so cynical…I don't kill everyone. Plenty of people come to my Inn all the time and really enjoy themselves…but then there are always the people that I send up to Room 37: the ones I know no one would ever miss for years, if at all. The ones whose lives are screwed up beyond repair. The brokenhearted pitifully depressing misfits."

"And that would be us..." Sam muttered sadly.

"What, you thought no one would miss Sam or me if we went missing?" Dean demanded.

"Of course no one would miss you; you're the biggest losers I've ever seen! And anyway, even if someone noticed you were gone, it's not as if you told anyone where you were." She smiled. "No one can help you."

"We're still in Room 37, aren't we? People will come looking for us—"

"Haven't you been paying attention at all?" she said impatiently. "We aren't in Room 37 anymore; we're in your past! Room 37 is the portal that brought us all here, the portal that I created! I use it to trap people, have a little fun scaring them to death, and then give them the chance of a lifetime—the chance to try to change their past, fix their problems…"

"Oh come on! You're making it sound like you help them, but you failed to mention that they all end up dead!"

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, Dean—I don't even have to do anything. It turns out that no one can change the past because it's written in stone. Whatever happened is going to happen again no matter what they try to do—because of fate. Most of them just can't handle failure a second time, so they commit suicide…" she shrugged. "Less work for me…of course Sam's case is different. He tried to stop himself from getting killed." She paused, and then raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Do you know why he would do that?"

Dean looked at her exasperatedly. "Maybe because he didn't want to be dead?"

Rebecca let out a sigh. "You seriously don't know, do you? Or are you just trying to deny the truth?"

"What truth?"

"Sam didn't really care that he died, Dean." She said seriously. "Don't get me wrong, he tried his hardest to prevent getting killed, but that really wasn't his reason for coming back to this point in time."

"What are you talking about?" Dean said slowly.

"Isn't it obvious? He came back to stop you from making the deal." she said dramatically. "It turns out he'd rather be dead than have you go to hell because of him…the guilt has been eating him up inside for months."

Dean sighed and looked down at the ground. "I know." He said softly. "But I don't regret making that deal—"

"Exactly! You don't regret making the deal because it got you your brother back." She laughed softly. "You do realize how selfish you are, don't you? I mean, did you ever think about how he would feel about the whole 'my big brother's going to hell and it's entirely my fault' situation? No. You didn't. You thought only of yourself, and Sam's been regretting that ever since he died and you brought him back…and that is exactly why you're here."

"This can't be good…" Sam whispered fearfully.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a point?"

"Usually I just bring one person at a time through the portal—the person I trapped in the room. However, Sam's situation is interesting in that it involves you."

"Can you just skip to the point, please? You're giving me a freakin' headache." Dean snapped.

Rebecca smiled wickedly. "Sam doesn't want you to make the deal…in fact I believe he begged you with his dying breath not to do it." She paused, and then continued in a low voice, "I fully intend to make Sam suffer just like everybody else…and he's really not suffering while he's dead, because that's exactly what he wants. You're going to make him suffer, Dean, and you're going to do it far more effectively than I ever could."

"I would never do anything to hurt him, surely you know that!" Dean said loudly.

She stepped closer to him. "Oh, but you will Dean, you will. First, I'm going to wipe out your memory of the last few months so that you think little Sammy's died for the first time. You'll get upset all over again and rush to the crossroad demon to make a deal, and I'll make sure that this time she does it properly and sends you straight to hell instead of giving you a year." She grinned at Dean's fearful expression. "And do you know what the best part is? When Sam wakes up, he'll still remember the last few months and his decision to try to alter the past—and he'll realize that it's his fault that you got sent to hell early!" She laughed happily. "Damn, I'm good!"

"It won't work." Dean said defiantly, trying to remain calm as feelings of panic swept through his body. "It won't."

"Yes it will." Rebecca said confidently. "After all…I always win." Before Dean could say anything else, she raised her hand and the whole area was flooded with a blinding white light. Dean felt a sudden burst of pain hit his body, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

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