Chapter 2 – Visiting the nursery –

Falling, the first sensation his mind supplied; utter darkness as if being blind, only with open eyes. There was no up or down, neither left nor right; goose bumps on his skin even though he felt like burning up inside; Voices, loud, ugly, screaming although nobody was there. His own voice never being heard, muteness forced upon him.

And all of a sudden…

He stood on solid ground. A soft, beige carpet under his feet and a picture of a motorcycle on the wall, were the first things he noticed until the wooden baby crib jumped into his eyes. It stood next to the changing table, almost right under the window, which was framed by white curtains that displayed blue ships. The baby mobile turned slowly playing a soft lullaby.

Obviously a nursery but still completely foreign to him, he had never been here of that he was sure, with no clue to where "here" was, until a blond woman carried in a small four-year-old. Mary with Dean in her arms.

Not simply a nursery, but his nursery. Dumbfounded did not even begin to describe how he felt, standing in his own nursery at the age of 22.

Sam looked his fill. Never having seen his mother before made the experience not only unreal, but also strangely cherished. She did not stand tall, about 6''2, her blond straight hair shone even in the dim evening light and the smile and love in her eyes said everything Sam needed to know from her. Mary had loved him.

Slowly walking forward, Sam expected the boy to start screaming at the stranger in front of him but his young, older brother was completely obvious.

" How…?" Laying his hand on one small shoulder of the child and still not getting a reaction he guessed he was not really with them. Just seeing a memory of past happenings, but whose memory was it?

Being completely focused on watching his 'older' sibling and his mother he did not notice John coming in.

"Hey Dean, came to say good night to Sammy?" "Yeah Daddy." Recognizing the speaker instantly Sam spun around and put himself firmly between John Winchester and the man's wife and son. "Come on, let's get you to bed, champ." John picked the little guy up, reaching right through a 22-year-old version of the baby in his crib, who made gurgling sounds of joy at the occupants of his room. Sam sneaked a glance at his infant-self and spontaneously shuddered seeing the eyes, which were firmly trained on him, as if this toddler could actually 'see' him. Maybe, maybe he could.

Then the scene shifted.

He could hear his mother on the stairs and watched helplessly as the demon appeared in his room shortly after. Sam glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:03 am, he would be exactly six months old in two minutes.

- 3 -

Mary entered her youngest sons nursery, said "John, come back to bed." and walked back out again, going down into the living room this time, where she would find John asleep in his favorite armchair, no doubt – Sam knew, 'cause Dean had told him, when he was ten and dad had shown an ugly outburst of fury and fear after falling asleep in a motel-chair.

All the while the demon had slashed a shallow wound on his own arm and dropped a few of the cursed blood-drops into Baby-Sammy's mouth and there was nothing he could do against it.

Mary was back now, screaming at this abnormity with the yellow eyes to get away from her son but it was already too late – for her and him - The baby's eyes, his eyes, had just turned black, before returning to their usual hazel-brown, seconds later.

Watching his mother being thrown against a wall and slid up to the ceiling, where she stuck was single handedly the worst thing Sam had ever been forced to see.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't alone with his emotions. He could literally feel Mary's rage and protectiveness inside him as well as Yellow-Eyes zeal and anticipation. "My general. You'll make me proud, Sammy." The demon whispered while stroking the baby's cheek, almost lovingly – if demons could love, that was.

Those painful screams, his mother gave of from being gutted alive, woke John up. As he sprinted into the second floor all he could do was watch his beloved wife die. Dean entered almost simultaneously, eyes first flicking to his mommy and then immediately jumping to Sammy in his crib. As Yellow-Eyes vanished, two grown up men and a small, scared four-year-old boy witnessed Mary Winchester burn.

Fast Ex-Marine reflexes had John snatch his baby out of its crib, thrust him into his big brothers arms and say: "Take Sammy outside! Run!" But Dean, always obedient Dean, just stood there, eyes overflowing with tears, small body wracked with sobs. "RUN!" Their father snapped. His prospective protector snapped into motion, scrambling through the door, down the stairs and onto the lawn outside. He turned back at hearing a loud blast, anxiously searching for his dad, who was nowhere in sight.

Raging with fury, Sam – the older version – stood next to the small hunter in the making, who had been born tonight and was holding onto the precious bundle tightly, watching John Winchester finally run across the front lawn and snatching his sons up in his arms in midstride.

He felt that small part of Dean, which allowed him to show emotions die in that moment, more than he saw it leave his eyes.

It was the last thing Sam noted before waking up in his own bed, drenched in sweat and panting – next to his Jess –.