Pairing: DeanxSam

Beta: Kiraynn

Genre: Slash, Angst, Deathfic, AU

Note: Spoilers until season three finale. Based on the cd from Dream Theater.

Fatal Tragedy

He watched the scenario around him as he waited for the librarian to come back with his request. There was only one other person in the public library - a petite girl barely in her twenties who was engrossed in some thick math book.

Impatiently he tapped his fingers to the rhythm of some old Led Zepellin song. Since his first regression session his dreams had changed, become stronger and even more real than before.

"Dave?"

The redhead looked up and smiled as his friend sat in front of him. Scott slid his bag between his feet.

"So, why we are meeting here?"

"You remember I told you how my dreams were changing?"

"Yeah?"

"So I came here to look for some news, some information, anything that could help me," Dave shrugged. "I know it's a long shot, but it's worth a try. Right?"

Scott bit his bottom lip, a thoughtful look on his face. "What do you expect to find?"

Before he could answer, the librarian came back with a stack of folders. Dave and Scott coughed as dust flew off the papers when they were placed down in front of them.

"Here you go, dear. It was quite difficult to find since the date you asked for was about twenty five years ago, but I finally succeeded. I hope it helps."

"Thank you," Dave smiled and the woman waved her hand, turning back to her desk.

Scott stood up and went around the table to sit next to him. "I wonder what she found."

"Let's see."

He opened the first folder to find an old newspaper with the bold letters:

'Satanic Ritual Kills Fifteen People in West Virginia.'

Dave arched his eyebrow, becoming more and more surprised as he got further into the article. Apparently a lunatic, Sam Winchester, was creating a satanic ritual with his brunette girlfriend and they sacrificed fifteen people so it could work. That was so off.

"Are you sure you want to discover more about Psycho Sammy?" Scott whispered, reading the article as well.

"He's not a psycho!"

"Well, this news clearly says otherwise."

"He's not, all right. I just...know."

"Why, because you dream about him?" the brunet retorted.

"Well...yeah."

Scott picked up another folder with a huff. Dave didn't dignify him with a reply; instead he just went on reading.

'According to the local police, the only witness of the case was a old man, Robert Singer, who knew Sam Winchester. The sheriff, Carl Banks, informed us the old man was very upset about the events and kept repeating that Sam wasn’t responsible for the deaths.

“That’s a lot of bullshit,” said the sheriff in answer. “All the evidence points to him. The candles, the knife and the sigils. Unfortunately freaks like these exist out there and sometimes we’re not quick enough to stop them.”

The investigations are still ongoing and the police said that Bobby Singer will be investigated as an accomplice.’

Dave worried his bottom lip. He put the article aside and moved on to the next one but it wasn’t much better. Apparently Sam, along with his brother Dean, made quite a fuss along the country with things like murder, robbery, fraud. Those were just the beginning.

“His brother was quite the charmer, don’t you think?” asked Scott, showing him a picture of the older brother from when they were once caught by the police. “No wonder you have the hots for him.”

“Scott!”

True, the redhead was more and more intrigued and fascinated by Dean Winchester, but he wouldn’t say that to his friend. The few vague visions he had about the man in his dreams and his sessions showed a very complex person. He couldn’t be the ruthless bastard all those reports were trying to say he was.

“You have a crush, how cute.”

“Shut up, Scott.”

The brunet laughed and kept on reading. Dave did the same and they were silent for hours.

-----

He was trying to keep as silent as he could as he moved through the shadows of the house looking for it. The whole living room was a stack of books and dust as familiar as a home could be. He passed his hand over the wall until he found what he was searching for and with a smile he pushed the secret button. From the revealed hole in the wall he plucked out a wooden box with a small package tucked inside.

“Stop right there.”

Sam turned around and raised his hands, still clutching the package. The light was turned on and he stared at Bobby with guilty eyes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, son?” Bobby narrowed his eyes, a shotgun pointed at him.

Sam bit his bottom lip. “Sorry Bobby, but it’s the only way.”

“Because Ruby said so?”

Sam sighed. “You don’t like her, fine. I get it.”

“Oh that’s not it, boy. I don’t trust her.”

“I don’t trust her, either. But so far, she’s the only one who came up with a solution.”

“You think that ritual is the only solution?” exclaimed Bobby. He sighed and lowered the shotgun.

“Four months, Bobby,” Sam whispered, lowering his hands as well. “And what did we find?”

“We can search more. We can look for another sources, son.”

“I’m tired of waiting, Bobby!” exclaimed Sam indignantly. “I did nothing but search for Lilith and for a way to save Dean in these last months and now…now I have a chance. Hope.”

With a saddened expression, Bobby raised the shotgun again. “I’m sorry Sam, but you know I can’t let you do this.”

Sam smiled bitterly. “I know that. That’s why earlier I put sleeping pills in your beer. Apparently with you they took longer to have an effect.”

Bobby widened his eyes as his vision started to fade. He let the shotgun drop and Sam caught him before he fell on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Bobby.”

The old man raised his face and caught sight of the tears that were glinting in Sam’s hazel eyes before he blacked out.

Dave opened his eyes with a gasp, clutching at the arm holding him. His breath was labored and short. He looked around him, startled to find himself on the floor of the library.

“Hey Dave, are you okay?”

Dave slowly sat up, Scott’s arm still in his hand as the librarian moved close to him in concern.

“Dear, do you want me to call an ambulance?”

The redhead lowered his eyes as Scott put a protective arm around his shoulders.

“Thank for your concern miss, but he’s like this when it’s too hot. I’ll take him outside so he can have some fresh air.”

The old woman nodded and helped the brunet raise Dave from the floor. Slowly they gathered their things and walked out of the public library. Once in the car Scott made Dave sit on the passenger side of his Impala, and he closed his eyes as he rested his head against the leather seat.

“What that was about?”

He turned his eyes towards Scott, who was gripping the steering wheel tightly. His lips were a thin line.

“What happened?”

“You fainted on me, man! You said you weren’t feeling well and then you just blacked out!” exclaimed the older man and Dave knew Scott was scared because he never freaked out like that.

“I’m better now, I just…” the redhead sighed. “It was another dream.”

“Oh, that’s it.” Scott turned the engine on, taking off out of the parking lot and slipping into the slow traffic. “We’re taking a road trip.”

“A what?” Dave looked at his best friend with wide eyes.

“These dreams are starting to affect your everyday. So you want to research about what happened twenty fucking five years ago? We’ll do it.”

Dave gasped, utterly surprised. His house came into view. “You mean…”

“Yeah. We’re going to West Virginia.”

TBC