More then your worst nightmare

Summary: "You die Sammy. Every night I fall asleep and there you are. You die, and I can never save you." Sam thinks Dean is just worrying about his safety, but then again, you should never dismiss dreams.

A/N: This is my first supernatural fic, and I know I have like 6 stories going now, but this one well…I'm on a Supernatural obsession, and I didn't think I could write a good fanfiction, but I'm going to try. I MUST WRITE ONE! Heh, anyway, criticism would be appreciated, and please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not; unfortunately own the wonderful Winchester brothers –Winks at brothers-

Sam: Dean, she scares me.

Dean: She scares everyone Sammy.

But that doesn't mean I can't play around with their feelings, does it? Isn't angst a wonderful thing? Also, this fic may contain spoilers for various episodes. This chapter contains minor spoilers for Something Wicked.


Chapter one: Frozen again

Dean grunted in pain as his back connected with the hard wood of the closet he had been thrown into. Damn that HURT! The wood gave way to his weight and he flew into the closet, not stopping until he met the back wall. He fell in a heap on the floor and groaned, slowly attempting to stand up. It wasn't easy, his back hurt like hell!

He heard the distressed calls of his brother and forced himself up, rushing towards the door. It took ages to get there, it was as if the door was stretching out before him, getting farther away as Sam's calls grew louder. Dean growled in frustration and finally reached the door, and stood shocked at what he saw.

The Shtriga was leaning over Sam, taking rattling breaths and lowering closer to him. But that meant.


Dean growled as the Shtriga began to feed off his brother and quickly went for his gun, quickly moving forward and taking aim.

But as the life was sucked from his little brother, he found that he could not pull the trigger. His feet were rooted to the floor and his hands glued to the gun. He desperately tried to force his fingers to pull the trigger, but they wouldn't budge. He began to panic. This couldn't happen, not again. Dad wasn't going to save him this time, it was his responsibility now! He had to take it out.

But his hand, as well as the rest of his body remained unresponsive. Desperate, he did the only thing he could think to do. "SAM! Sammy!"

Sam, miraculously, opened his eyes weakly and stared at Dean, betrayal evident within them. "Why didn't you save me Dean? Why do you hate me?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice before his eyes dimmed and he stared lifelessly at his older brother.

"Sam! Sam no! This can't be happening! I can't loose you, SAM!"

Dean pulled harder against his frozen body, and it suddenly gave away. He fell on all fours to the floor, crawling towards Sam as the Shtriga leered down at him. "Sammy," Dean whispered, cradling his fallen brother.

The Shtriga was not about to let him go free however, and was quickly upon Dean, holding his throat with his hands, quickly cutting off his supply of oxygen. 'Sammy, I failed you,' Dean thought, before everything went dark.

Dean jolted awake in bed, sitting up so fast it made his head spin. He was covered in a sheet of sticky sweat, and he was taking deep breaths of air without realizing it.

Sammy! Where is Sammy?

Dean turned around franticly before visibly relaxing when he saw Sam sound asleep on the musty motel sheets. He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair before slowly standing up, wincing as the springs that had previously been digging into his back squeaked, though thankfully not waking his brother.

Sam was sleeping peacefully, a rare occurrence these days, and Dean was not going to be the one to mess it up. He quietly made his way toward the bathroom, pausing only once to swear under his breath as he bumped into the dusty coffee table. He shut the door with a soft squeak behind him before finally relaxing and letting his arms come to a rest on the sink.

What had that dream been about? Sam was always the one having those kind of dreams. Plus, that day had happened weeks ago, and he'd never had a dream before this. Dean sighed and silently flicked on the light.

I shouldn't still be feeling guilty, not enough to have dreams about it. It's crossed my mind of course, but never so…vividly before tonight.

Dean turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face, cooling himself off and effectively calming himself down some more.

After all, they're just dreams right? It's not like they mean anything.

He sighed as he heard the squeak of those damn bedsprings, Sam had woken up. He turned off the faucet and wiped his face off with a towel that smelled like it hadn't been washed decently in months. He glared at the offending item before tossing it the floor and opening the door.

Sam was sitting up in bed, watching Dean as he quickly shut off the light and made his way out of the bathroom, making sure to avoid the now known coffee table.

"What were you doing?" Sam asked, in a voice that showed he was obviously half asleep.

"I'm coming out of the bathroom at two in the morning Sam, what the hell do you think I was doing?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

Sam grumbled something about how you could never be sure with him, before lying down and turning away from Dean. Dean chuckled and lied back down before closing his eyes; it wasn't like he'd have another dream like that again, right?


Dean awoke the next morning to the motel room door closing a little to loudly for his liking. He opened an eye to find his brother grinning stupidly at him and holding up a small bag. "Donuts," he said when Dean eyed it carefully.

"Where did you get them, I didn't see any place around here," Dean asked, sitting up and glaring at the uncomfortable mattress before standing and stretching. Sam looked a little nervous now, as Dean fixed him with a hard gaze.

"Well, it was about a fifteen minute…" he trailed off.

"Yes Sam?"

Sam smiled nervously and pulled out a chocolate donut before handing the bag to Dean, who took it without taking his eyes off his brother. "The place was a fifteen minute drive east, on the edge of town."

"You drove…my car."

"Um, yes."

Dean turned abruptly, as if to head out the door but stopped. He pulled a donut out of the bag and took a bite, looking back at Sam. "You didn't scratch her did you?"

Sam shook his head. "No Dean, your car is perfectly fine," Sam said in an assuring voice, now convinced his brother wasn't going to murder him for touching his car.

"I'll be the judge of that," Dean muttered, letting himself fall into a nearby chair and gazing at Sam. He didn't seem to remember their little nighttime chat, which was just fine with him.

It was weird though, he hadn't had any more dreams, but he remembered every single detail of this one. How his body froze up, how much it had strained him muscles to try and move, you Sam's eyes had been filled with such betrayal.

"Hey, you gonna give me some of those donuts?" Sam's voice broke through his drifting thoughts, and he tossed the bag to him. No need to dwell on it now, they had a job to do after all.

About an hour later the two brothers, after a thorough examination of the car from Dean (Have to make sure she's okay Sam), were in the car and heading toward the center of town. Sam had found an article online about a teenage boy going missing the other day from home.

"A and B student, in the drama club, has a good group of friends, he has no reason to run away," Sam had said earlier.

"You never know with teenagers Sammy."

"It's Sam," he had replied automatically. "But that's not the weirdest part. On his computer was a half written email to his girlfriend, and in the middle of a sentence the letters H-E-L were typed up, then a bunch of random letters."

Dean had paused then, before walking to the screen and looking over Sam's shoulder at the article. "That is weird, but what makes you think it's Supernatural?"

"All the doors and windows were locked, eleven at night, no sign of a struggle."

"I suppose it's worth checking out, does the kid have a name?"

"Matt Chasel, his parents were home that night, so that's our first stop," Sam had said. A little more digging and they had found the address and were now on their way over.

They drove up to a small two-story house. Quickly rifling through their fake ID's, ("Just in case," Dean said) they made their way to the door. Sam rang the bell and a middle-aged woman appeared, dark circles under her eyes and wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm Dean Carson and this is my partner Samuel Dongut, and we're here to investigate the case about your missing son."

"Oh of course, come in," the woman said, smiling tightly and allowing them inside. "The police had brushed this off as another runaway case, I didn't expect anyone else to come."

Dean and Sam shared a look. "Yes, they sent us over just to double check Mrs. Chasel."

Sarah Chasel closed the door behind them, glancing worriedly at the incoming storm clouds before turning and nodding. "Of course, come, we can sit in the dining room."

Once they were seated, Dean began asking the questions. "Was Matt a depressed kid?"

Sarah smiled. "Oh no, he was very cheerful, always smiling and going about a play he was in."

Dean and Sam nodded, and Sam sat forward a little, studying her carefully. "Did you and your husband get along well with your son? Was there any falling out you recently had that might cause him to want to run off for a few days?"

She shook her head. "No, we haven't had a big fight for a few weeks now."

"And did he have any plans he wanted to do this week?"

She shook her head again, and jumped a little at a sudden crash of thunder. "Oh my, that doesn't sound good," she commented quietly, clearly hoping Matt was not out in this kind of weather.

"Did you hear any struggle or sound from his room that night?" Dean asked.

"No," she said, suddenly looking sad. "Me and my husband, neither of us heard a sound. I woke up when Richard, my husband, came barging in, going on about him being gone." She sighed quietly, and jumped once more at another crash of thunder.

It was raining now, like bullets falling from the sky. Sarah anxiously turned on the television to check the weather forecast; apologizing to Sam and Dean who assured her it was fine.

"Sever weather will continue for the rest of today and tonight, it is highly recommended to stay indoors and out of this storm," the weatherman said.

"That doesn't sound good, maybe you two should spend the night. We have an extra room with two beds, granted they're small. I hate to see anyone out in weather like that."

Dean smiled and nodded at the woman. "That's very kind of you, thank you."

Sarah smiled and led them to their rooms on the second story. "Why don't we discuss this later, when my husband gets home over dinner?" she asked, and Sam nodded to her. She closed the door behind her.

Dean sat on the bed closest to the door out of habit, as Sam let himself fall to the feather mattress in glee. "We are going to sleep well tonight," he said.

Dean sure hoped so.


Whoa, turned out longer then I thought it would. So please review and tell me what you think, hopefully I'll update soon!