The sunlight shimmered amongst the ice cubes as condensation slid down the side of the glass. Sam watched as the light was distorted, becoming bent and broken so that it was everywhere at once; in the water, in the ice, in the glass itself, always changing, never constant. Fire and ice. The two polar opposites, each one with the ability to alter the other- though the fire always seemed just a little stronger.

Sam closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth. The coldness that had been hanging over him was finally starting to lift.

"Here, sweetie. Take these."

Ellen's hand lifted from the bar, revealing from four white pills. "You look exhausted. I got a room in the back, you're welcome to it. It's got a real bed, too," she smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Ash is the only one I make sleep on the pool tables."

Sam didn't have the energy to find the humor. "Thanks," he replied, "But I'm okay."

Her hand fell away. "Sure you are."

Dean shifted, leaning on his forearms. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sam swallowed the pills and pressed his fingers to his eyelids. "I just walked outside. I was almost to the car when Nicole came up to me. She asked if I was leaving alone, if I wanted some company. I told her no, she kept pressing. And then… nothing. Nothing till I woke up next to her."

Dean's fingers drummed on the table. "There's got to be something else. Do you remember seeing anyone else in the parking lot?"

Sam tried to think back that far, but it was like walking through darkness with only a match for light. "I don't think so…"

"I'm worried about that goose egg on your head," Ellen said, handing Sam a dishtowel with ice. "I wish you'd get it checked out by a real doctor."

Sam took the ice and held it gingerly against the back of his head. Doctors always asked questions and Sam really didn't have any answers this time- at least not the kind he wanted to think about. He imagined standing over Nicole, the knife in his hand, while she struggled and lashed out. Giving him a run for his money.

His stomach flip-flopped at the image.

"You said you had a vision," Dean continued. "What was it about?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know it was a vision?"

"Cuz that's what it feels like," Sam snapped, glaring at Dean. "What I want to know is, why Nicole? Why did the demon have me kill her? I didn't even know her."

"You didn't kill her. Ash," Dean called over his shoulder. "See what you can find out about our mystery girl. See if she was in trouble, owed anybody money-"

The other man looked up from his homemade laptop. "Already on it," he replied, typing furiously as he sat at the pool table-cum-desk.

Sam pushed away from the bar, unable to leave his fate in someone else's hands. "I can help," he started, standing unsteadily.

"Sit your ass back down," Dean ordered, stopping him with a glare. "You look like shit and you probably have a concussion. I told you, we'll figure this out."

"What if it happens again?" Sam asked. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, wincing as he prodded the bump. "What if I do something else, something worse? What if I hurt you?" Suddenly Sam felt very vulnerable. What was stopping the demon from taking over whenever he felt like it?

Dean snorted, one corner of his mouth rising in a smirk. "You? Hurt me? Are you forgetting who's the big brother here?"

"Dean-"

"Don't worry about me," Dean replied. "I can handle you. It's what's going on in that freaky head of yours that has me worried."

Sam dropped his gaze to the table, staring at the glass of water. The ice was completely melted now, and a ring of condensation had formed around the bottom. He pushed the glass around, smearing the water across the polished wood. "Me too," he admitted quietly.

"Hey guys, I got something," Ash spoke up.

Sam left the pouch of ice on the bar as he and Dean gathered around him, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. "That was quick. You could give Sammy a run for his money," Dean complimented. "You guys could have a nerd research race or something."

"What'd you find?" Sam asked, frowning as he squinted to read the small print.

"Lots of fun stuff," Ash began, running one hand through his uncombed mullet. "I ran a cross check with her name and the phone number she gave Sam the other night. It's a cell phone, belonging to one Nicole Whitbeck. Get this- I got police reports from her parent's deaths, enrollment into foster care, transferal between foster families… but this here takes the cake. Admittance into the Topeka State Psychiatric Ward, complete with doctor's notes."

As Sam struggled to comprehend that, Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Man," he chuckled, "What is it with you and the buckets o'crazy chicks, huh?"

"How'd you find all this?" Sam asked.

Ash grinned up at him. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Dean shifted his weight. "Alright, Stallman- just tell us what the good doctors said."

Ash turned his attention back to the screen and began reading. "She was admitted at age 12, diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic. Ramblings about monsters with claws and yellow eyes, killing her parents and then stalking her." Ash paused, glancing up at Dean. "They kept her drugged up and in a white padded room for years, trying to rehabilitate her. Multiple attempts of self-mutilation and hallucinations. This girl is seriously messed up," Ash muttered.

Ellen came around behind them, her eyebrows furrowed. "Is there a picture of her?"

Ash scrolled down a little to reveal a small, black and white photo of a young girl, no more than ten years old.

"Oh my God," Ellen gasped, her face going colorless. "I remember her now."

"You know this chick?" Dean asked incredulously.

An image flashed behind his eyes, of Ellen watching Nicole suspiciously from behind the bar. "How do you know her?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the dulling pain in his head.

Ellen sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and took a seat, motioning for them to do the same. When they were all huddled together, she explained, "Nicole lived with Jo and me for a while, years ago. She was just a little girl. Her parents had just died and she had nowhere else to go. I thought we could help her. We took her in, but we knew right away that she wasn't normal. Her behavior was… cruel. Irrational."

"Cruel like how?" Dean prompted, his expression a mix of intrigue and worry.

"Jo's father had gotten her a guinea pig for Christmas. Its name was Tinkerbell. Jo adored that thing, always dressed it up and played with it." Ellen sighed, running a hand through her hair again. "A week after Nicole moved in, Tinkerbell disappeared."

"So maybe it escaped and got stuck behind the dryer," Dean shrugged.

Sam stared at him.

"What? It could happen."

"I found Tinkerbell a couple of days later, stuffed in the trash can outside." Ellen looked into Sam's eyes. "She was cut open," Ellen forced out. "Sliced right down the belly, like a frog in a science class. Someone killed her on purpose."

Sam swallowed. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to regain his footing on a madly shifting reality. "How did her parents die?"

Ellen leaned back. "They were killed, by something supernatural."

Sam blinked as a wave of foreboding radiated outwards from his chest. "Do you know what? What happened?"

"We don't know much," Ellen said. "It came into their house at night. Nicole found her parents, mutilated. Torn to shreds. She saw the thing that did it, but was too shaken up to describe it very well. Her story changed every time." Ellen looked at the brothers, her lips thin and her eyes shiny. "She was in shock. No child should have to find their parent's body, especially an 8 year-old girl. Not like that."

Sam was suddenly on his hands and knees, gathering his father's cold and lifeless body from the floor, screaming for help.

Dean coughed lightly. "If no one saw it, how do you know it was a demon?"

Ellen looked around them quickly. "Her father was a hunter, and based on what Nicole sometimes described... But it was strange- the place had no EMF reading at all, but the wounds- no human being could have done that."

Sam shifted. "Did you ever find it?"

Ellen shook her head. "We looked- trust me, we looked. Even had your Daddy help us. But the thing was gone as if it had never existed."

Sam leaned back, taking a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair. "Wow. Poor girl."

Dean looked at Sam. "Sounds to me like we just found the killer. Is there anything in Dad's journal about a hunter named Whitbeck, anything about a monster with yellow eyes and claws?"

Sam shook his head. He'd read the leather-bound journal too many times to count and the name was unfamiliar. "Some demons have yellow eyes, some monsters have claws. Nothing about a creature with both."

Dean looked to Ellen. "What about the house? Think we can get in there and look around for ourselves?"

Ellen shook her head. "It was a small town, word spread fast. It was demolished."

"The report said she kept seeing the creature in the hospital," Ash spoke up.

"You think whatever killed her parents was trying to get her in the hospital?" Ellen asked.

"It's possible," Dean said. "And no one would've believed her."

Sam pushed to his feet suddenly, unable to hear any more false hope. "It wasn't a creature!" he blurted, pacing, uncomfortable in his own skin. "It was me. I killed her, with my knife. I've got her blood on my hands. I had a vision- blacked out- whatever, and the demon took control. It explains the headache, the amnesia, everything. You can't blame this on a made-up creature, Dean," he panted. "It was me. I killed her."

"What the- look at this," Ash said, pointing at the screen. "Here's a scan of her journal, before they upped the meds. What the hell does that say?"

Sam stopped, running a shaky hand through his hair. He approached slowly, curiosity getting the better of him. He stood behind Dean, squinting at the small, tight, blocky letters. Line after line, perfectly repetitive as if printed from a machine. Sam rubbed his temple, massaging the soft spot. "Help me," he said quietly.

Dean looked at him sharply. "Sam?"

He pointed. "It says 'help me'," he repeated.

Dean looked back to the screen as Ellen looked up at him worriedly. "Sam, sit down before you fall down."

"I'm fine," he grumbled, lowering his hand. "Is there anything else?"

Ash clicked through the pages, shaking his head slowly. "I don't see- wait, what's this…"

It was another scan of crumpled notebook paper, this one dated years later. The handwriting was steady and loopy, more feminine than the first. Heavy, dark lines, written with purpose. "Pede poena claudo," Sam whispered. He looked at Dean.

Ash looked from Dean to Sam, confused. "Okay, and for those of us who slept through foreign language class…"

"Punishment comes limping," Sam said. It didn't make sense. "It's Latin, like saying revenge comes slowly but surely."

Ash looked just as puzzled. "Revenge for what?"

Dean straightened, like he had just found the final clue of a scavenger hunt. "Revenge on whatever killed her parents."

Sam shook his head. "No. She was crazy, Dean- who knows what she meant. She was a paranoid scitzophrenic. It was all in her head. Nothing was chasing her, nothing snuck into that hotel room and killed her. It was me. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

"Would you listen to yourself?" Dean snapped. "Why are you so damn eager to take the fall for this chick? Do you want to rot your life away in jail? You think you'll feel better then? What about me, you're just going to turn away from this, what we do? And here I thought you were better than that."

Dean's breath was in hot on his face but Sam held his ground. "You just can't stand the truth, can you? That I might have done something so bad, even you can't fix it. I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. I don't need you to lie for me, to make up stories so my feelings don't get hurt. I know what I did. Maybe if I'm in jail, I won't be able to hurt anyone else."

"Bullshit!" Dean spat, shoving Sam. Ellen and Ash rose, ready to intervene. "Okay, so let's pretend there are no yellow-eyed monsters. Let's say you really did kill her." Dean ground out the words with such force that it was obvious they pained him. "You're going to let the demon win? You're just going to lay down for the bastard, after everything that he put us through? Everything that he's taken from us? You're going to let him take you too?"

A picture of Jess in a sea of flames erupted behind his eyes and Sam faltered, his resolve cracking. Dad on the floor of the hospital. Mom's photographs, tattered and worn. "I don't see a way out of it," he admitted, his throat pinched and dry.

Dean seemed to grow taller then, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He dropped a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. "Just leave it to me, little brother. I'll figure something out."