Notes: I've been going over some old fics that have been left unfinished, and I've realized that I've gone about 5 years without updating this fic. I think it's about time I finish it up and let this fic be officially done. The idea was novel when I first thought of it, but I guess frustration must have taken over. So now, five years later, I'm going to finish this fic. Thanks so much and my sincerest apologies! Additional note: I'm going to bring in a psychic we know from the show for this chapter.

The boys headed back to the motel room after the werewolf encounter. Bobby was waiting for them, and he was fuming.

"I told you idjits to call me when you found something!"

"It's all Sam's fault," Dean said quickly.

"Hey! Thanks a lot Dean!"

"Shut up, the both of ya, and tell me what is going on," Bobby said angrily.

"We went back to where we got jumped the other night. You were right. There are two of them. They're hunting together."

"Don't tell me—"

"It was an ambush. Sam killed one of them, and the other got away before I could get a clean shot."

"Any more scratches?"

"No, we got lucky this time," Sam said. "I've got an idea to help me remember," he added.

"What's that?"

"I was thinking of seeing a psychic."

"If you're gonna do that, I'm calling Pamela Barnes. She's the only one that can do it right."

Sam nodded, and Bobby stepped outside to make the call.

SPNSPNSPNSPN

~Approximately 10 hours later~

A knock on the door brought sighs of relief from Sam and Dean. They'd been waiting on edge for hours, keeping themselves occupied with random things. Bobby opened the door to reveal Pamela. Dean smiled, and couldn't help but look her up and down.

"Like what you see, Dean?" Pamela said with a smirk.

"I uh…"

"It's all right. So who needs to be hypnotized this time?" She asked, breezing past Bobby into the room.

"Sam," Dean said. He told their story in great detail.

"All right," Pamela said when Dean finished. "Let's get started, shall we?" Lie down on the bed, Sam."

Sam did as directed. Dean helped Pamela to sit in a chair next to the bed. Dean sat nearby, just in case.

"All right Sam, just relax… you're going to feel tired… every muscle in your body is going to be relaxed… that's it, deep sleep… relax…"

Sam's eyes drooped and closed as he drifted into a deep sleep.

"Sam, do you remember what happened the night you walked in your sleep?" Pamela asked gently.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

"I was hunting a werewolf…I saw it on 5th street… it was ready to pounce, another victim… I got to it first…killed it. It bled a lot. I got the bitch, though."

Dean felt the color drain from his face as he listened to his brother. They really needed to get a handle on the sleepwalking thing.

"Sam, what happened after you killed the werewolf?"

"Left it there… drove home… went to sleep… so tired…"

"Pamela," Bobby said gently from his seat a few feet away. "Wake him up now. We've heard enough."

"Sam, after the count of five, you're going to wake up, feeling refreshed. One, two, three, four, five."

Sam's eyes fluttered open immediately. He sat up in bed.

"Did it work?" he asked.

Dean nodded, got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sam looked at Bobby.

"What did I do?"

"You thought you were hunting a werewolf, son. We can't be sure if the girl you killed really was one or not. I think it's best we pack up and get out of town."

Sam nodded, unable to respond. Bobby stood up.

"Pamela, if you don't mind waiting, I'm gonna help the boys pack, then I'll drive you home."

"Sounds good, Bobby. I'm not up for taking that filthy bus again."

NCISNCISNCIS

After 10 minutes of prodding, and the promise of buying him pie, Sam and Bobby were able to get Dean to come out of the bathroom. The three of them silently packed up the room and wiped everything with their prints on it. When everything was packed in the Impala, Bobby said goodbye and left to drive Pamela home. Sam and Dean silently got into the car and left without another word, putting the small Georgia town behind them for good.

The drive was silent for the first hour. Dean turned on his Metallica tape after that. Neither of them talked for a while. After three hours of driving, Dean pulled off at a truck stop for gas. As he pulled up to a pump and stopped the car, Sam turned to him.

"Listen…"

"It's all right, Sam. You were sleepwalking. You didn't have any control over what you were doing."

"Then why aren't you talking to me?"

"It's not that simple…"

"That's crap. What's going on?"

Dean turned to his brother and looked him in the eye.

"It was the look on your face while you were sleepwalking that bothers me the most. It was malicious, almost like you wanted to hurt me. I guess it just makes me nervous."

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Sam said, eyeing the bruise on his brother's face that was fading black and blue.

"Eh, my face will be all right. But I think we should handcuff you to the bed from now on," Dean said with a smirk.

"Don't even think about it, Dean."

"They're only handcuffs…"

"I'm sure I know what else they've been used for. Keep those damn things away from me."

"Fine, bitch."

"Jerk."