.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Feel Bad Vibe

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

(3 days ago)

Okay, so the first few dreams weren’t helping much, at least not when Dean wasn’t playing by the rules. Maybe this meant more direct actions were needed, playing deeper on Sam’s fears. Get right into his head and cancel out the words Dean had said to him – make it everything seem worse.

And if this plan didn’t work then he would be forced to take more drastic measures, if he was forced into this he would certainly make them enjoyable though. After all, he needed a little entertainment and past experience taught him that a Winchesters cry of pain was definite source of pleasure.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tossing and turning in his sleep was a regular routine for Sam. Some nights Dean might wake him, and others Dean might let him be. Nights when the gentle grunts and groans of Sam dreaming didn’t wake Dean, he had no choice but to let him be. So Sammy lay tossing and turning and grunting and groaning in a far from blissful dream whilst Dean lay dead to the world in the bed next to him. The dream seemed to start in the same place the last one was left and if possible, everything felt even more real, probably because now they’d actually been the park it made everything that little more personal

Everything was so quiet; all that could be heard was the breeze rustling through the leaves on the trees. Sam stared down in front of him and an audible gasp escaped his lips.

“Dean!” he called and knelt down next to his fallen brother but he already knew he was too late. Dean was dead – he’d killed him.

“See what you’ve done?” A voice asked from behind and Sam twisted round to stare at the man walking up to him, “Is that really what you want to happen to your brother? Is that really what he deserves after all these years he’s protected you?”

Sam just stared at the man in numb horror, unable to respond.

“Ever since he carried you out of that burning house he made it his job to save you from everything. And you just go ahead and shoot him. How many times is that now?”

Sam shook his head in disbelief, not wanting to hear these words.

The man grew angry, “How many times Sammy? How many times have you shot me? Tried to kill me? When all I ever did was protect you!”

“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know…”

“You don’t know what?” The Dean in front of him spat the words out.

“I don’t know how it ended up like this and I don’t know how to stop it from happening.” Sam closed his eyes, his breathing had speeded up and his mind was racing.

“Yes you do. You’ve done it once already. You didn’t even do it for me then, you did it for your selfish self.”

Sam opened his eyes and stared up in confusion.

“Leave. Go back to Stanford and your ‘normal’ life. I’m not safe with you around and you know it. Yet now you refuse to leave, refuse to save me after I’ve saved you so many times.”

“But it’d kill you…” Sam protested, “Leaving you alone… abandoning you… it’s kill you.”

“And you’ll kill me if you don’t!”

Sam stood up and turned away, “I can’t Dean, please don’t make me.”

Facing in the opposite direction meant Sam couldn’t see this Dean’s eyes flash yellow, “You’re only going to hurt me Sammy. You have to leave. Just once do something for me.”

When Sam span back round to beg once more, his brother no longer stood their but an unfamiliar man with yellow eyes. “Listen to him Sammy; you’ll only hurt him if you stay.”

Sam gritted his teeth, ready to tell this demon exactly where to go but then he felt a hand wrap itself around his ankle and heard a weak voice calling his name. He looked down to stare at the dead Dean whose glazed hazel eyes stared back up at him and with blood gently dripping from the corners of his mouth he called his brothers name once more, only this time stronger.

“Sammy!”

The rough hand that was shaking him let go as soon as he opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. He was in the motel room and Dean, completely not dead, was leaning over him and watching with concern.

“Maybe we should start drugging you up so you stop dreaming so damn much.”

“Maybe.” Sam agreed mildly, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Dean dropped onto the bed so he was sitting beside him and his eyes never lost that concerned look, “What was it this time?”

“I…” Sam started, not wanting to finish.

“Oh come on, spill. It can’t be nearly half as bad as you killing me.”

Sam dropped his head, “You were telling me to leave, that it was the only way to stop me from killing you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Tell me you’re not gonna start listening to dream me when you don’t even listen to the real me?”

Sam smirked, “Even in my dreams your ideas are stupid.”

“Don’t blame that idea on me, that’s your subconscious fears not me.”

“Subconscious fears? Since when did you read Freud?” Sam’s smiled faded though as he gazed off to his right, “No… I don’t think it was either. There was a man with yellow eyes… He told me to listen to you.”

Dean growled slightly, “That bastard. What’s he trying to do?”

“I dunno but the vision, these dreams… he’s planning something.”

“Oh God.” Dean gasped, leaning forward slightly, one arm hugging his midsection whilst his free hand went up to his mouth.

“Dean! What’s wrong?” Sam’s eyes widened as he reached over to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean moved quickly from his reach though, mumbling something like ‘Gonna heave’ before rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door closed. Sam pulled himself from his bed and wandered over to the bathroom door, gently knocking. The only reply was the sickening sound of Dean throwing up.

When he emerged half an hour he dropped back down onto his bed looking like he wanted to stay there for the next few days, Sam could barely keep the smirk from his face, “I told you to just get pepperoni.”

“Shut up.” Dean grumbled, rolling onto his front and shoving his face into his pillow.

Sam stared down at his brother, he didn’t want to admit it to Dean but deep down inside he was beginning to wonder if maybe it would be better if he just left, then maybe Dean would live. He’d be pissed sure and he’d be hurt but he’d be alive. It wasn’t a good enough reason though and he knew, besides Dean being the stubborn ass he is, he’d just find some way to track him down and when he did, he’d give Sam hell for leaving him and being so stupid.

“Stop staring.” Dean muttered, causing Sam to jump from his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and looked at his brother suspiciously; he always managed to do that. Ever since they were kids and Sam would just stare at the back of his head when Dean sat up front in the car with their Dad or when he would watch Dean when he thought he was asleep… Dean always seemed to know though, “I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my head, stop it and go grab a shower ‘cause you stink.”

Dean smirked into his pillow as he imagined Sam rolling his eyes and heard the bathroom door close. He just knew Sammy far too well, recognised those moments when everything was completely still in the room because Sam was lost in his thoughts and sometimes that meant staring at Dean as he worried and fussed.

“Save me some hot water!” Dean called; lifting his head only slightly before groaning again and hoping Sam didn’t lock the door just in case there was something left to throw up.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.