GONE TO THE DOGS

WOW: Withdraw. Intense fears always have a trigger; Dean's fear of dogs is no different. A 300-word triabble by Amberdreams, Dizzo and Edina Clouds; not necessarily in that order!

Minor spoilers for 8.15, 'Man's Best Friend with Benefits'.

Disclaimer: We don't own the boys; they don't know what they're missing.

xxxxx

I should've known our encounter with Portia would bring it all back. Must've been stupid to think it wouldn't, especially as my brother's got every right to be nervous around dogs.

Portia had asked me why; assumed Dean must've been nipped by a pooch as a kid.

I didn't want to go into too much detail; couldn't risk Dean finding out - he would've been pissed. Instead I changed the subject.

Now his pained whimpers tell all. The Hell Hound nightmare is back. And Dean's withdrawn into a world of pain and terror. It's going to be a rough night.

xxxxx

Heart racing, head pounding, hands shaking. Every breath's a struggle, and there's sweat pouring down my face. It's like the worst alcohol withdrawal symptoms, with a dash of sheer terror thrown in just to mix things up a little.

I know I'm dreaming, but that knowledge doesn't help when the hot stinking breath hits the back of my neck. I can hear that bitch Lilith laughing, and I know what happens next.

Before the teeth can sink into my flesh, I do the only thing I can, the only thing I ever do when this nightmare hits me.

I run.

xxxxx

"Dean, hey, Dean"

Head still thick with sleep, Sam rushed across the room toward the flailing, bucking figure in the next bed. Grasping Dean's shoulder, he shook firmly.

"DEAN," he shouted urgently; "wake up, man, please."

Dean's eyes snapped open, staring pebble-wide through the darkness, as Sam switched on the nightlight, trying to make his muttered reassurances heard over Dean's harsh gasping sobs.

Recognition flooded back into Dean's mind, washing away the nightmares; images of slavering, blood-flecked jaws gradually withdrawing; replaced by his brother's face, all frantic concern and watery, pleading eyes.

Puppydog-eyes.

They would chase the hell hound away.

xxxxx

end

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