A/N: I know lots of people don't like second person narrative, but I'm sorry, that's just how it happened. Also, thanks go to girlfan1979 on LJ.

Lost Days

Sam, what happened to your face?

He's ignoring your questions, brushing them aside and turning your attention towards other things.

Did something happen while I was asleep?

He's telling you what the plan is for today, reminding you of the research that needs to be done.

You look like you aged ten years in a night, man!

He doesn't look you in the eye and keeps his head turned away from you.

Come on, something's going on here, isn't it?

He sounds tired when he talks to you, almost bored at times. He can tell what you're thinking so well, it's almost like he's inside your head.

Don't give me that bullshit, there's something wrong. Tell me.

He walks with a slight limp that he's never had before but he won't answer your questions. He won't let you see the newspaper or watch TV.

You can't keep this up forever, I'm going to find out what's going on.

He smiles like it's a joke and that makes you angry. You want to get in the Impala and drive but he's got the keys. You want to leave the motel room and find somewhere to vent your frustration but he's standing in the way.

What is your problem? Sam!

He brushes you off again. Nothing you say gets through to him and all your usual wheedling tricks get you nowhere. You feel lost; you're his big brother, you're supposed to know all of his weaknesses.

What happened to you, Sam? Just tell me that.

He says nothing happened to him, but you know he's lying. It's such an obvious lie, you can't think why he'd bother with it. The both of you have eyes, the both of you can see he's changed. You start thinking back over the past few hunts, you try to think of anything that could age a man and make him act so peculiarly.

Dude, you gotta tell me what's going on.

He lets you use your phone, at least, so you call the only person you can think of.

Bobby, there's something wrong here, Sammy's--

Bobby isn't any help. Bobby tells you to calm down and not worry, that everything's fine. You think that perhaps the two of them are in it together. Something happened to them, maybe the whole world, while you were asleep and now it's up to you to work out what, exactly.

You don't ask any more questions. You don't say anything to him at all. You watch him working on his laptop. You watch him go through the motions of being your brother.

You don't touch the food he puts in front of you. He doesn't say anything, just eats his own meal. You don't remember him buying all that food. Not yesterday, or the day before. You wonder how much can be accomplished in one night, you think that maybe this – whatever this is – has been going on longer than you first thought.

You wander the room, looking for a way out, a weakness you can exploit once darkness falls and he goes to sleep. You realise that in your earlier distress, you failed to notice the lack of mirrors anywhere. You file the knowledge away, ready for use you're out of the room and free. You think maybe you could squeeze out of the bathroom window if you had long enough.

You spend the rest of the day on your bed, reading a book to avoid suspicion. You think that if he were really your brother, he'd be laughing at you. But he isn't, he's watching you, looking relieved. He's relaxing. You take this as a good sign.

You run over the plan in your head. As soon as he's asleep, you'll slip out the bathroom window because you couldn't find anything that you could use to pick the lock on the door. You will him to put that laptop away and climb into bed. He watches you, though, and the feeling that he knows something that you don't is unbearable. Neither of you say anything.

You fall asleep while trying to work out the quickest and quietest way of climbing out of the window. He smiles and moves your book away so you don't drool on it, takes your boots off and pulls the covers over you.

Tomorrow, you won't remember any of this, just like you don't remember what happened yesterday, or the day before. He watches over you while you sleep and hopes that tomorrow you won't be so difficult.

The End.

Isn't amnesia fun? No, no it isn't. Okay, thank you for reading!