Scene writer: darksupernatural

Responder: DancerInTheDark101

A/N: Hey there! This is part of the co-write challenge that darksupernatural started. Each oneshot consists of a scene that another author gives you and in return, you base a oneshot around that scene. A better description is in the fic Winchester Single Shots posted under darksupernatural's profile. I think there are around ten of now, so it's gona be a long fic :) Go check out the other girl's works! They're listed in my profile.

WINCHESTER SINGLE SHOTS: Mind Astray

"Man, why'd it have to be freakin' witches? Again! Seriously dude, we have all the luck." Dean said, pulling a face that only a mother could love.

"Hey, at least we haven't seen the bitch." Sam said, his hands on the laptop keyboard, fingers flying as he researched the victims of the case.

"Y'know, it' weird man, each set of victims here have been in the papers before. Here, the first couple. The dude went to pick up his then girlfriend at her place for a date. Found it fully engulfed in flames. Said his worst fear was her burnin' to death. He called 911 and ran inside, pulled her out with no injuries. Then, twelve years later, they're still together. Guess what?"

Dean shook his head.

"He ganks her. Burned her alive." Sam scrolled down the info on the computer. "Second set of vics…same thing. When the younger brother was a teen he suffered from clinical depression. Tried to hang himself. His older brother walked in to find him just as the dude started to asphyxiate. Got him down. The brother later wound up seeking counseling for nightmares. Finally got over it until a month ago when the brothers moved into their mother's house to take care of her. The older brother just…snapped and hanged his brother from the oak tree in the front yard."

"So let me get this straight… Those yahoos saw something almost happen to a loved one, called it their worst fear and then they turn around and do that exact thing to the same person?"

Sam nodded. "Pretty much."

"Hex bags?"

"Probably. Nothing mentioned of any weird little trinkets at the scenes though." Sam's lips tightened into a thin line.

"Dude, freakin' crazy ass witches!"

Outside under the swirling gray clouds a shrouded figure watching the brothers chuckled under her breath. Her long black hair fluttered out from under the gray hood of her cloak and she reached a pale hand up to brush it away from her face. "I see his fear in his eyes. It shall become real to him…" She said as she slowly waved a small hand in front of her face. Her green eyes studied the face that held another set of green eyes. She chuckled again and turned away from the window, her gray cloak merging with the gray mist that darkened the night.

Later that day

He tossed and turned in his bed, images flowing through his mind. They were flashes, not complete moving images – sudden flashes of a dark room flowing with water and the Impala. A hospital appeared in the montage of still images in all its white glory. Then came the horror. The feeling of sadness and complete and utter hopelessness filled him as he fought to breathe against the ache in his chest.

Seconds later, it became too much and his eyes snapped open, sweat running into his open eyes as his chest heaved. Oh god, where had that come from? Why of all times was he thinking about that now?

Running his right hand through his hair, Sam stole a glance over to where his older brother was lying in his bed, fast asleep. A smile took over his features as he held back a laugh. Dean was lying on the bed, the covers thrown back to only cover one of his legs and the other foot. He was lying on his front, face buried in the dull gray pillow and his hand resting underneath it, obviously gripping the knife that he adamantly said wasn't there.

Ridding himself of the remains of the nightmare, if you could call it that, and pushed the covers off him before standing and stretching. He heard the cartilage in his spine click quietly, sending an unnerved shiver down his back.

A glance at the digital clock resting on the table between the two double beds showed that it was half three in the morning. God, why was it that he couldn't sleep much anymore? It seemed that he only ever slept a few hours a night now.

As it was, after having dinner – which consisted of a cheeseburger, fries and a beer for Dean, while he had a chicken salad, fries and a coke for himself – they had watched a hideously bad horror movie, before Dean had gone out to 'earn' some money at the local bar while he stayed at the motel, researching the latest hunt.

Dean had stumbled back into the motel around one-ish, slightly intoxicated and sporting a nice black eye, but four hundred bucks richer. Sam had looked up from the laptop, groaning slightly as the sight that was his brother, but relaxed a little at the wad of cash clasped in his hand.

It was then that the brothers had decided to try and get some sleep. The next morning they were going to be investigating into the deaths a little more. Glancing once more at his brother, Sam headed into the small bathroom to have a nice long, warm shower before Dean decided to steal all the hot water.

-Supernatural-

"SAM!"

Sam choked back a laugh at the sound of Dean's yell from the bathroom, as no doubt, he had stepped into the shower thinking that it would be nice and warm and was hit with a blast of ice-cold water. Seconds later, the door opened and Dean's head popped out, fury written all over his face. Sam shot him an innocent grin and turned back to the police report he was scrolling through on the computer.

He was so engrossed in the detailed, if not slightly disturbing, report that he didn't even notice Dean sneak up behind him and tipped cold water down the back of his shirt. Sam let out a startled scream that even he would admit was kinda girly and turned, scowling at the laughing face of his brother.

"What ya find out, Sammy?"

A few minutes later, both the Winchester brothers were sitting at the small table, looking through police reports and their dad's journal. The journal brought back memories, both good and bad and Sam was reminded once again why they desperately needed to find him. Jessica's face found its way into his mind and Sam shuddered, her death something he was glad he wasn't having nightmares about very often anymore. Instead, that weird dream he had experienced the night before flashed into his mind.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice broke through his thoughts and Sam reprimanded himself. The dream analysis could wait until later. They had to focus on the hunt, so that no more innocent people were killed.

"Right," Sam started. "So what do we know so far, apart from the fact that we know that it's a witch doing the killing? You found any connection between the vics? Anything that would say why the bitch was picking these particular people?"

Dean shook his head. "Apart from the fact that they both live in the same town, I got nothing. They practically come from different walks of life. The girl who was burned alive by her boyfriend was a model for some swimsuit company, the boyfriend being her manager. The brother who was hung worked at the local supermarket, and the one who did the hanging was at college studying to be a psychologist. Apparently, he was on a break and had come down to see his brother."

Sam groaned. They had nothing. After everything they had researched, they had nada.

"Right, so I guess we better go talk to those who did the killing, huh?"

Half an hour later, the brothers sat in front of a middle-aged man with brown hair and a receding hairline. There was purple bags underneath his eyes, a haunted, glazed sheen covering the blue-gray irises. He was pale, hands shaking beneath the table that he was trying desperately to hide.

"Mr. Karlyle?" Dean spoke, his voice deep and authoritative. Sam glanced over at his brother, noticing the focused, stern look possessing his features. Dean was taking the case very seriously and for that, Sam was thankful. It always made him nervous when Dean decided to goof around when on a case.

"Yeah?" Jeff Karlyle's weak and trembling voice broke through Sam's thoughts. He could see Dean frowning from the corner of his vision and mentally shook himself. He had to stay focused.

"I know this is going to be a difficult question to answer, but we need to know the truth." Dean was really playing the FBI part today. Sam leant forward at the questioned issued by his brother, eager to see what the answer of the inevitable question was going to be.

Dean took a deep breath before continuing, steeling himself. "Why did you murder your girlfriend, Mr. Karlyle?"

Silence followed the statement. Jeff dropped his gaze, staring at some stains on the carpet, a single tear leaking from a blue eye. Sam watched the crystalline drop roll down Jeff's cheek before falling to the floor with a quiet splash. It seemed, as soon as that first one fell, it unlocked the floodgates and released a torrent of tears.

Watching in astounded shock, Sam shared a look with Dean as Jeff Karlyle cried over the death of his girlfriend. Sam really didn't want to have to stop the grieving man, but they needed to know the reasoning behind the murder of his partner.

"Jeff?" he asked quietly, hoping not to startle the man too much. Jeff's head shot up, a small gasp slipping out as his eyes widened. He wiped a hand over his eyes to stem the flow before looking back at the brothers. Sam caught the haunted look in the man's eyes, a flicker of doubt reaching the forefront of his mind. Jeff seemed really torn up about his girlfriend's death. He was beginning to wonder how he could have murdered her in the same way he was terrified of her dying. It just didn't make sense…

"I… I – I don't know…" Jeff stammered, voice hitching as sobs wracked his body.

"What do you mean, 'I don't know?' You murdered the poor girl!" Dean's angered voice cut across the otherwise quiet room. Sam flinched at the unwavering rage in his brother's voice. Throwing a glare Dean's way, Sam turned to Jeff, smiling at him in an attempt to undo the damage that Dean's angered statement had wrecked.

"Carry on, Mr. Karlyle," Sam motioned, hoping like hell that Jeff would take the bait.

"I… I don't know why I k-killed Meredith. We were happy. We've been together forever, y'know? I l-loved her. Sure, we had some fights – like every n-normal couple does. B-but when I h-heard Meredith scream and s-saw her…" Jeff trailed off, taking a few gasping breaths before composing himself. "I saw her bur…burning, I s-stopped. I can't remember why I d-did it… I can't remember b-burning her…"

The last word trailed off into a fit of sobs, the man burying his face in his hands as the tears fell. Sam shared a look with Dean before standing and placing a hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Karlyle. I know this has been hard for you."

Without another word, the Winchester brothers left and let the security guards take away the grieving man.

-Supernatural-

The dark room was back, the desolate place that hadn't been inhabited for years. The old wood creaked with every step, moaned under the weight of the people walking over the rotting boards. Wind howled outside, a symphony of agony. A sudden burst of pain ripped through him, taking him completely by surprise and he gasped at the abrupt surge.

A flash of white light erupted in his vision before fading to black. He could hear voices, distorted as if they were speaking under water. He couldn't understand what they were saying, no matter how hard he tried. And then he heard his voice and all the hollow grief lacing the unrecognizable words. Then he woke up.

Shooting upright, Dean swallowed reflexively as sweat created trails that flowed down his face to gather on the collar of his shirt. His breathing was shallow and fast, as if he had woken from a nightmare.

Groaning in frustration, the elder Winchester glanced over to where Sam was lying, asleep. Sam's shaggy brown hair fell over his closed eyes. Mouth hanging open slightly, his breathing was deep and even, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. As Dean watched, Sam moaned and screwed his eyes shut tighter and rolled over so that his back was to his brother.

A flash of hurt ripped through Dean. He knew that Sam turning over was a natural act, but for some reason, it hurt. It felt like Sam was turning his back on him, walking away.

Pushing back the thoughts of self-loathing, Dean slid back under the covers, pulling them up to his chest and stared at dirty ceiling. A multitude of colors swirled before his eyes as he thought about the strange dream he had experienced. It hadn't made any sense. The dark rooms… the blinding flash of light… the voices. None of it fit. Yet, somehow, it did. Somewhere among the flashes of image and distorted sound, it fit.

The dream had been coming to him every night for the past few days. Ever since they had started this hunt, things had been a little out of whack. Dean had noticed it straight away, and he wasn't even sure if Sam had noticed it yet.

Shivering, the hunter pulled the blankets tighter around himself and buried himself deeper within them, fighting the chilly mid-morning air now that the adrenaline from waking from the strange dream had started to wear off.

As Dean eventually drifted off to sleep, he glanced over at the window, frowning as a dark shape marred the light coming from the moon through the lightly curtained glass. A passing thought formed about it, but before he could do anything more, the shape moved. It was just a branch swaying with the wind. Gripping the knife kept under his pillow, Dean succumbed to the incoming darkness.

-Supernatural-

Sam stared down at his brother, rage swirling through his mind, darkening his thoughts to the point of making them murderous. It somehow didn't feel right, but he was so lost to the emotion that he was unable to fight. Sam's hands shook, from fright or rage he wasn't sure. He felt something push at him again and his face twisted into a sneer. He lifted his arm, raising the pistol clenched in his fist. Dean's green eyes snapped open and took in the form of his brother looming over him.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, propping himself up on his elbows. "Sammy, what's goin' on?"

"It's Sam." he said, dropping a heavy fist holding the butt of his pistol against Dean's temple. Dean grunted and fell back against the pillow.

"Nnnuhh…" Dean groaned, lifting his head to try to blink the seeping blood out of his eyes. His world spun on its axis and he groaned again, feeling bile rise to burn the back of his throat.

"I see you're awake."

"Samm- Sam, what's goin' on with you?" Dean looked at his brother, standing ramrod straight with his right hand concealed just behind his right thigh, as if he was hiding something from Dean's sight.

Sam didn't answer, instead he looked around the small, dark room, Dean following suit as best he could, his raised arms tied over his head blocking the view he'd catch with his peripheral vision. "Look familiar to you Dean?"

"I've seen this room before. In dreams. The past couple days- Sam, listen to me, somethin' messed up is goin' on here. Sammy, this isn't you."

"Oh Dean, I think it is. And you know what? You keep telling me that I'm not gonna go dark on your watch. You keep telling me nothing bad is gonna happen to me while you're around. You keep telling me that you're going to save me. Y'know what? Me turning into something I'm not, that's not my fear, it's yours. It's yours Dean. And it's coming true." Sam lifted his hand, holding out a small black object that Dean couldn't make out in the dim lighting.

"Sam, what?" Sam smirked and tucked the object into his pocket, turning around and reaching for what Dean thought was a bucket that was sitting behind him. He picked it up and Dean felt icy water cascade over his body and rob his breath. He gasped.

"Ya see Dean, You're in my way. In the way of destiny. I'm tired of it. You holding me back. It's time for it to end." Sam pulled the black object from his pocket and held it up in front of Dean's face. It was a taser, one of the seriously ramped up ones from the trunk.

"Sammy, no." Dean said, shaking his head and trying to force himself away from Sam where he hung, his toes barely connecting with the concrete beneath his feet. "Sam, please."

"Good bye Dean." Sam held the taser directly to Dean's neck. Dean flinched at the cold touch of the prongs, the metal seeming colder than the water that had sluiced down his body. Sam pulled the trigger on the gun. Dean's body locked up, going rigid as a bright light flashed through his body and the room. The blue energy raced through Dean and finally ceased as Dean's body sagged against the ropes, his eyes closed, unmoving. Not breathing.

Sam sat upright on the bed, his heart pounding and a scream echoing throughout the room.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, jumping out of the bed to hunch over Sam, catching him by his quaking shoulders. "Sam, what is it man?"

Sam shoved past Dean, a sob ripping through him as he bolted for the bathroom. Dean followed closely, supporting Sam as he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. Sam heaved, sobbing, and Dean leaned in, gripping him from behind to hold him up. Finally the heaves ceased and Sam fell back against Dean, his strength gone. Dean brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes and helped him to lean back against the bathtub. Sam's legs rested askew on the floor for a moment before he pulled his knees to his chest and buried the butts of his palms deep in his eyes, scrubbing the uncontrollable tears away. Dean squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and stood, going to the sink to wet one of the washcloths that rested in a small basket on the counter. He returned to Sam and pulled his hands away from his eyes gently. They were rubbed red, bloodshot and haunted. Sam refused to look up, his hands falling to rest over his knees, shaking. He stifled another sob and released a shaky breath. Dean wiped Sam's face, holding the cloth over his eyes for a second before removing it and refolding it, placing it against the back of Sam's sweaty neck.

"Wanna tell me what happened Sammy?" Sam shook his head vehemently, remaining mute.

"Come on man, you gotta tell me what happened to have ya so upset."

"We're leaving. NOW. I c- I can't do this hunt. I won't. We're leaving." Sam said, standing and rushing from the room. Dean stood and followed at a fast pace, trying to keep up.

"Sam!"

Sam shook his head, putting his cell phone to his ear after punching a button on speed dial hurriedly. "Bobby? It's Sam." Sam listened for just a moment, Dean hearing Bobby's happy sounding gruff voice over the line. "Hey listen, we need you to pass off a hunt. We can't take it." Sam gave Bobby the specifics of the hunt and finally spoke one more time. "Bobby, make sure that whoever takes this hunt works alone."

Dean stared hard at Sam as he heard Bobby ask something that sounded like "Why Sam?"

"Just…please." Sam disconnected the call. Sam tossed his phone down on the bed and threw his duffel up onto the bed, haphazardly tossing clothing into it.

Dean stepped up and grabbed Sam's shoulders, spinning him. "Sammy, tell me what the fuck happened to you man! I'm worried freakin' sick!"

"You been having dreams…bad dreams over the past couple days? Since we took this hunt?"

"Y-yeah." Dean stammered, images of the small room coming back to him.

"I have too. It's the hunt, the witch. I…" Sam sighed raggedly and collapsed to sit on his bed. "I killed you Dean." Sam said, meeting his gaze and blinking back tears. "We have to leave Dean. Please."

"Okay Sammy. We'll go."

Two weeks later…

"Hey Sam, I talked to Travis. He finished your hunt a few weeks ago."

Sam swallowed a few times, the sick feeling stirred up at Bobby's words finally fading. "And?"

Dean walked through the motel room door with a grease stained bag of take out food in his hand along with a carrying tray and two large sodas. He stopped and stared at Sam. Sam held up one finger, telling Dean to wait. He listened to Bobby.

"It was the witch. Turned out all the people who got killed bought it at the same address. The house was rebuilt after the fire. Witch was talking to her sister, a spirit, who was killed and buried in the basement of the house. All the murders happened in the basement. All the vics were lured there by dreams, thinking they could save their loved ones, that they were in trouble. The murderers relived their fears in their own dreams, acting them out like they were sleepwalking."

"Wow." Sam said, letting out a breath as he raked a hand back through his hair. "Thanks for letting me know Bobby."

"Anytime kid." Sam hung up the phone and looked at Dean as he put the bag on the table.

"What'd Bobby have to say?"

"Travis finished the hunt."

"And?"

"And I've never been so freakin' glad to put a town in the rearview."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

"Huh. Let's eat, and then hit the road. Got a salt and burn."

"Where?" Sam asked, taking a drink of his Coke.

"Roswell."

Sam snorted, wiping his mouth as he gagged around the fizzy liquid. Dean laughed.

END.

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