"Hello, Sam."

Sam didn't acknowledge the overly-friendly voice that spoke to him. It was the same one who had come when he'd seen the girl and the doll in his mind. He sounded friendlier this time, though—he noted that distantly, and then began to flick through his memories of Dean, trying to choose which one to immerse himself in today.

"Still feeling crappy, huh?" the doctor asked, coming and sitting down in the chair.

Sam ignored him, trying to choose between the time when Dean had decided to take him out Trick o' Treating one Halloween when John was out on a hunt, and the time when Dean had decided they should build a tree-house and it had fallen down before they'd even set foot in it.

"But then, who can blame you? After what you've been through…"

Sam finally decided on Halloween, and began to reconstruct the scene in his mind. Dean had chosen a simple ghost costume, but Sam had been unable to choose…

"I think you're entitled to a little bit of nutty time, don't you?"

There was something wrong with the way the doctor was talking. Sam knew that even though he was barely listening at all. The doctors here didn't use words like nutty.

But the memory he was holding in his mind was just so much more interesting, and he pushed the voices—both the one in his head and the one belonging to the doctor—off to the side so that he could concentrate better on it.

"Oh, Sammy, c'mon, just choose already!" Dean said impatiently. "Look, I have a little money, you can have anything you want. You can be a clown—"

Sam shuddered and pressed closer to his big brother's side, almost feeling Dean's grin as they both remembered Sam's first—and ultimately final—viewing of It.

"Okay, never mind. Hey, how about a werewolf? That looks cool."

Sam looked at the bag Dean was holding out to him, studying the picture on the package of what the costume looked like on. "Maybe…" he said doubtfully. Dean rolled his eyes and put the package back, taking a minute to look at a Frankenstein costume as he did. Seeing him staring at it, something suddenly occurred to Sam.

"Hey, Dean, why aren't you buying a costume?"

Dean glanced at him. "I'm gonna be a ghost, Sammy, you know that. I can just get a sheet from the motel room for that."

"Yeah, but don't you want a real costume?"

Dean shrugged, a funny look on his face for a moment before he hid it. "Not really. It's all the same to me. Now stop stalling and pick your costume!"

Sam ended up choosing a vampire costume, and it would be years before he realized that Dean had really only had enough money for one costume—and then, only if he went completely bankrupt.

"Hey, kiddo."

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Sam jumped—the doctors never touched him except to medicate him or sedate him or put him in a straight jacket.

"Look, I know you like remembering Dean and it makes you feel better. But it's not good for you. You're not gonna get out of here if you keep on doing it."

I don't care.

"At least, not if you keep doing it like that. You can keep remembering him in a healthy way, you know."

I prefer this way, thanks.

"Hey." The doctor actually sounded angry now, and Sam found himself actually having to work to ignore him. "I'm getting just a little tired of you ignoring me here, man. I'm trying to help you—and spending a lot of time on it, too. And I don't think I've been too horrible to you. The least you could do is look at me."

Sam turned to face the corner a little more, resting his head against the wall, and behind him the doctor sighed.

"You know what? Whatever. Fine, I'll just leave. But think about what I said—if you can drag yourself out of the psychosis long enough."

And then he got up, and started to walk out. At the door, though, he stopped, and said quietly, "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. What are we gonna do with you?"

Sam jumped, the question torn from his throat before he could stop it. "What did you just call me?"

For a moment, the doctor paused. Then there was the sound of a door opening, and he said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Sam."

If Sam had been looking, he would have seen the doctor's eyes flash black before he stepped out and closed the door behind him.