Okay guys...this is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic! I ask that you be honest with me and tell me what you think. I'm a big girl...I can take it...to a point...
Sam Winchester was a man who was accustomed to the perpetual darkness that seemed to always engulf him. He spent his days and nights trapped in that darkness with no hope of escaping. And the weird thing was that the darkness had always been his friend since he was a kid. That's not saying he never got scared of the dark, because he did. He remembered when he was nine he told his father there was something in his closet, and the only thing John Winchester did was hand him a .45 and told him to take care of it.
After that incident, Sam learned to respect the darkness and let it become his friend, his constant companion. And it had been a good friend of his—until about six months ago. That was when Sam began to loathe the darkness, when he began to feel betrayed by the darkness. That was when the nightmares began to take control of his life.
Whenever the nightmares came, Sam prayed for the darkness to go away. He prayed for the solitude against the internal demons that always seemed to plague his dreams relentlessly. Even if it was just a brief reprieve, he would gladly take it and run with it…far, far away. Anything was better than waking up in a cold sweat and with a searing pain in your head. This had been going on for six months now, and seriously, enough was enough.
Sam knew Dean was scared to death of his "shining"—the nickname that Dean had aptly named his abilities. Hell, it scared the shit out of him more than he allowed himself to believe. And Sam knew that Dean was trying not to show how scared he was. After all, Dean was the big brother; he was supposed to be brave for Sam, his baby brother. He was never supposed to show weakness to Sam. He was never supposed to show Sam that he was human.
Sam thought that was crap. He wanted Dean to be scared out of his mind. That way, he wouldn't be alone in his fear. He wanted Dean to know what he was feeling, how this was scaring him. Especially after the incident with Max Miller. Even though Dean assured him we would never be like Max, a tiny part of Sam couldn't help but think that maybe one day he could.
And Dean had questions, lots of questions. And Sam wanted so desperately to give Dean the answers that he wanted. But the truth was, even Sam didn't have those answers. All he knew for sure was that his nightmares were tied to the Demon somehow. But Sam couldn't stop the questions that ran through his troubled mind. Why the hell did he have to get stuck with the mind numbing visions and nightmares? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have happened to Dean?
Sam cringed as he stared up at the lightly stained ceiling of the motel room they were staying in. They had stopped just outside of Green Bay, Wisconsin at the River Lodge Inn to rest up and look for their next hunt.
Dean's gentle snoring caused Sam to turn his head and look at him. He would never wish his visions and nightmares onto his brother. The pain was just too unbearable and he would never wish to put his brother through that kind of torment; not even if Dean managed to switch out his shampoo with Nair again…
So, here Sam was, lying wide awake in bed at three o'clock in the morning, dreading to close his eyes again. This is how he would stay for the rest of the night until it was time for him and Dean to get up and hit the road again towards their next job. He would put on a happy face and make his older brother believe he had slept peacefully because it would make Dean happy. And Dean's happiness was one of the few things that made Sam truly happy.
But there was a time a while back ago when Dean couldn't do that. There was a time when only Jess could make him happy…
Sam rubbed his hands over his face and stared at the ceiling once again. He refused to allow himself to go back to that nightmare. When he hadn't been dreaming about what happened with Max, his dreams had moved on to Jess. But it hadn't been his Jess—it had been the Jess as he had seen her last—pinned to the ceiling, helpless, and silently pleading for him to save her and flames engulfed her body. No matter how hard Sam tried to get that image out of his mind, it seemed to assault him more vividly with each passing night.
He wanted to remember Jess as she was before that horrible night—the vibrant, loving, care-free, happy, safe Jess. He wanted to badly for her to be in bed next to him, his arm around her slender body, holding her and protecting her. He wanted to remember her as the one who was always there for him—his personal cheerleader and the one that kept him sane. She was his reminder that there was still good in this godforsaken world, and her smile alone could chase away his misery. He had needed that so desperately after what he had seen as he was growing up.
But, instead, he only got Jess the way the darkness would allow him to see her. Maybe it was his punishment for not telling her the truth about his past, who he really was. Maybe he was being punished for not telling her about the nightmares he had been having about her death. But would she really have believed him? Not likely. But maybe if he had been honest about everything, she would still be alive. And now because he hadn't told her, his mind was punishing him every single night with the constant nightmares about her.
So, yes, Sam had every reason in the world to hate the darkness that he had once loved. He hated how something he had enjoyed when he was growing up was doing nothing but causing him agony and misery now. And he wanted to know why—why this was happening to him and what it meant.
As Sam lay on the uncomfortable motel bed, he vowed right there that he would find out those answers, not only for his sake, but for Dean's as well. Sam couldn't bear to see the look of fear and anxiousness that seemed to flash across Dean's eyes every time he had a nightmare. Dean tried his hardest to hide the fact that it hurt him, but Sam saw it. He saw it every single time.
So Sam would seek out the answers to his nightmares. He would follow the trail to where it would lead. He would reclaim the darkness that he once relished.
Sam Winchester would reclaim his friend once again.
