Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own nothing, and I am not making any sort of profit on this story. I just need to borrow the Wee!chesters for a chapter.

A/N: I have been writing this OneShot for a couple months now. It's sad really. Every time I started writing I would find something else to sufficiently distract me, so I would put it off another day. Then I had finally finished it, but it just didn't turn out good, so I sat myself down one night and I rewrote the entire thing paragraph by paragraph, and I must say I am MUCH happier with this version.

Tell me what you think...

Sweet Dreams Little Sammy

Chapter 1

When did Sam actually have his first vision? We all assumed it to be just before Jessica's death. But in the world of the supernatural assumptions were never good things.

A few weeks after he turned five, Sam awoke one night completely frightened, in a cold sweat. Sam's breathing came out in small gasps and he spotted Dean lying in his own bed a few feet away. Sam felt the intense urge for some human comfort, so he climbed out of bed and practically ran over to Dean, but hesitated as he attempted to wake his older brother. Sam bit his nails nervously and tears dripped off of his chin.

Dean stirred and waved his hand in Sam's face, figuring Sam was afraid of the dark or needed his to take him to the bathroom in the dark. But it was Sam's persistent shaking that got Dean rolling onto his back. The nine year old's eyes wearily pried themselves open. Dean was immediately alerted at the sight of his little brother, because even in the dark Dean could distinctly make out his brother shaking, whimpering and crying. He flicked on the bedside lamp and pulled his legs over the side of the warmed bed. Dean gripped tightly onto Sam's slumped shoulders and asked, "Sam, Sammy, what's wrong!"

Sam was shaking hard and Dean seemed to instinctively recognize the signs as a nightmare. "Come on, Sammy. It's Ok; it wasn't real. All a bad dream. Let's get you back to sleep." Dean gently led his distraught brother back over to his bed, laid him down, and tucked him in. But Sam's hand gripped onto his brother's white T-shirt. Dean bent down in front of his brother's face. Placing a hand on the side of his head, Dean quietly reassures Sam of his safety until sleep overtook him. Dean wiped away the tear trails left on Sam's face, and then walked back to his own bed. He turned off the light and listened for any distressing sounds from his brother, but with not a sound Dean rested his head on the pillow and went quickly back to sleep.

Dean's dreams that night expressed how proud of himself he was at how he handled Sam's nightmare. He had been tempted to go and get their dad but figured John would not appreciate being disturbed that late at night. His dreams had him on a pedestal, a crowd clapping and cheering for him. Dean had learned to deal with dreams early in his life, but he didn't even think about what he would do if Sam had them. So far, he could get an A for effort.

But waking up too early the next morning, his good feelings were dashed with figurative cold water for Sam was staring wide-eyed at the white bedroom door, his blankets rapped tightly around his body, up to his chin. Dean reacted and quickly got out of bed, once again kneeling down beside his little brother. "Sammy?"

Sam didn't respond. He didn't even move.

But as soon as Dean tapped lightly on Sam's face, he jumped. Dean steadied his brother, calming him down, and Sam slowly shifted his gaze from the closed door to the face of his worried brother.

"What's wrong little brother?"

Sam buried his face deeper into the scarlet bedsheets.

Dean sighed. "Bad dream again?"

With the appearance of tears in the youngest Winchester's eyes, Dean's question was confirmed.

"What about?"

Sam's head began to shake vigorously. Sweat beads on his forehead were forming on his temples.

Saying no more, Dean pulled Sam into a sitting position and quickly climbed in behind his brother. Dean slowly laid Sam against his chest, and running his fingers through his hair, Dean slowly comforted his brother back to sleep. It was still early in the morning and Dean couldn't stop himself from falling asleep as well, his back against the cold, white wall, his head rested on Sam's head.

John entered the room a few hours later that morning. Opening his mouth to tell his son's to come down for breakfast, John was silenced when he saw his boys. Worry lines appeared on his face. He quickly strides over to Dean and gently shakes him awake, being careful not to disturb Sam, and he asks, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nightmares," Dean whispers. He then frees his left hand from under his brother and lightly prods him awake. It doesn't take long for Sam's eyes to open. It took a little prying to get him up for they couldn't lie around in bed all day, but finally all three of them paraded down stairs to prepare breakfast.

It was a Friday morning, but thanks to Thanksgiving Day on Saturday there was no school. It didn't take much of the day for Sam to get back to his normal, annoying, little brotherish self. As a treat that night, John let his sons have a small bowl of ice-cream before heading off to bed.

They all slept fitfully... at first. But it would seem Sam wasn't allowed that peace for long when the same nightmare tormented him once more.

A young man walked outside a two-story home into a garage. He was at a huge turkey dinner, but apparently someone had forgotten to cook the turkey! So, he, with a 5-year-old girl cradled on his left hip, was out to retrieve the festive bird. Placing the child on the hood of his car, he opened the chest freezer, bent down, and attempted to dislodge the 25-pound turkey.

There was a twig snap from behind him outside the garage. He swung around, but... nothing. He looked at the smiling child, back at the darkness of night, and then he sighed as the little girl released a playful chuckle. He smiled back at her and turned back to the freezer.

Then from behind him, a big, wooden, homemade chair creaked and flew toward his backside. He barely turned halfway around when the rough chair hit him. He toppled over into his large, 8x3x4 chest freezer. Plenty of room for a man to fit, especially when the freezer was practically empty.

A figure dressed in black walked out from the darkness and into the light, and before the young man could get out or even make a sound, his legs were folded under him, fully shoving him in the freezer. Grabbing his head hair, the black figure then quickly sliced his throat with a knife, blood spraying all over the lid and the wall. The lid was then slammed down, leaving him in cold darkness, dead.

There were no sounds except for inside as loud music played and a thanksgiving party raged. The little 5-year-old stared obliviously at the dark, cloaked figure. Said figure left without so much as a grunt and not a trace of remorse, but his eyes flash yellow as he passed the little girl. Then he completely disappeared into the darkness as the 5-year-old is left alone.

Sam jerked awake, thick sweat covering him and tears escaping his eyes. He used his scarlet blankets to muffle his terrified outcries. Sam couldn't stop the whimpers that came out as the images in his mind flashed over and over, reminding him of what he saw. Glancing over at his older sibling, Sam resisted going over to wake him for the second time in a row, but he couldn't stop the tears from cascading down his pale face.

To Be Continued...

A/N: A little experience under my belt says that people don't usually read 3000 word OneShots, so I cut this OneShot in to a TwoShot. I will be posting the second one in a couple days. I also have a little twist planned. What did you think? Review...