Dean awoke to hear gasping coming from the bed next to him, he turned his head quickly and saw his younger brother thrashing about, his sheets strewn all around him.

Dean bolted from his bed and ran to Sammy's side grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"SAMMY!" he shouted. "SAMMY!"

But the little boy continued thrashing, continued gasping, so much so that Dean thought Sammy would stop breathing altogether.

"SAMMY, WAKE UP! PLEASE!" Dean screamed with all his mite, willing his brother to open his eyes.

Then after what seemed like hours to Dean, Sam did just that. He opened his eyes, looked up at his big brother and burst into tears.

"Shhh Sammy, it's ok!" Dean exclaimed, pulling Sam into a hug. "I'm here, everything's going to be ok!"

Sam continued sobbing for a while, and Dean continued to hold him, remaining quiet until Sam had calmed down.

"You ok?" Dean asked once Sam's cries had sub-sided.

"Uh-huh!" Sam replied, but he didn't let his brother go.

"Hey Sammy, it was just a nightmare, everything's ok now."

No Dean, it wasn't, it wasn't a nightmare! It was real, it was, please Dean, please believe me, it was real!" Sam babbled, talking faster than Dean could understand.

"Sammy, shhh, calm down and slow down! What do you mean it wasn't a nightmare?"

"She had me, she hurt me, I don't know who she was but she was real!"

Dean just stared at his brother, not knowing whether to believe him. He reached over to the bedside lamp and turned it on, and that's when he noticed the red marks on his brother's neck, and the rips in Sam's pjs.

"Oh god!" he said leaning in to get a closer look. "Sammy I need you to take off you shirt for me, I wanna see if you're hurt where the rips are!"

Sam complied and Dean found thin scratches over his brother's chest. They were bleeding slightly, so Dean led Sam into the bathroom and got him cleaned up. On their way back to the bedroom Dean got some ice for Sam's neck, and grabbed the loaded shotgun from beside the door and placed it on his bed. If there was anything in the house, then it wasn't getting near his brother again.

A few hours later after Sam had gone back to sleep and nothing had happened; Dean decided he should call his dad.

"Dean, what's wrong?" John answered after the fourth ring.

"I'm not sure dad, but something's not right, it's Sammy."

He told his dad everything that had happened, and heard his father take in a deep breath after hearing of his son's wounds.

"I'm on my way back!" John exclaimed. "Dean, do not let your brother out of your sight. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

Dean then put the phone down on the bedside table and sat back beside his brother. He was going to stay right there until his father came home.

A couple of hours after Dean's phone call to his father he heard the door to the apartment open, and soon the door to his and Sam's room was pushed forward.

"How is he?" John asked, stepping into the room.

"Sleeping. I didn't know if I should let him, but he was so tired!"

John nodded, and sat on the edge of his youngest sons bed looking down on him.

"And you're sure nothing happened before he went to bed, that would have caused these marks?"

"No! We just sat and watched TV, had some dinner and then Sammy went to bed. I checked on him before I went to sleep, and he was fine!"

John nodded again, then touched Sam's shoulder shaking him slightly.

"Sammy, I need you to wake up. Sam!"

"Dad?"

"Hey Sammy, are you ok?"

"Why are you home? You said you'd be gone for at least a week!" Sam looked up questionably at his father.

"I came home early to see if you were ok. Dean phoned me and told me what happened."

Sam opened his eyes wider and looked from his brother to his dad. He knew that his dad was probably mad that Dean had called him. After all, they were only supposed to call in an emergency, and this definitely wasn't one of them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away from his father.

"What for?" John asked, confused by his sons words.

When Sam didn't answer, John took hold of his son and pulled him into a hug.

"What for Sammy?" he repeated.

Sam could immediately tell that John wasn't mad at him, he hardly ever hugged him and he definitely didn't when he was angry.

Before Sam knew it tears spilled from his eyes and he found himself crying for the second time that night. He couldn't believe he was being such a baby; this was not what an eleven year old did.

"Shhh, it's ok. I'm here now, everything's going to be alright!"

Sam pulled away, how could his dad say that, how could he lie, everything was not going to be ok.

"Don't lie daddy," Sam said, his voice coming out like that of a young child.

John looked slightly taken a back, "I'm not lying Sammy. I promise everything's going to be ok."

Sam tried to close his eyes, but they shot open before they were even fully down. He scrambled out of bed and began pacing the room. His breathing was becoming a little erratic, and as John and Dean stared at him they feared he was going to hyperventilate.