Okay. So.. this is my first attempt at something other than a oneshot. I plan on trying my very very best at updating this weekly for you. But if for some reason I fail to do so a few times, please forgive me. I have something going on in real life that won't be resolved for another two and a half months. But please, read and tell me what you think?

-Sam.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?" - John Lennon.

The birds chirped a melodious tune, planting cheer in stark contrast against the sullen quiet of the empty cemetery. It was abandoned, nobody else visiting their families or friends besides Sam. He had been here before, dressed in the same dark suit of mourning, hair slicked back out of propriety. He had walked this same path, knelt by the same grave, gazed in misery at the same name etched into the smooth stones surface. In his hands were a bouquet of vibrant flowers, a gift commonly presented to those loved ones who have passed on. Sam never understood this tradition, the dead were..well dead. They couldn't see the catching hues or smell their pleasing, comforting aroma. But in secrecy, Sam had bought this beautiful collection of alstroemeria, aster, and zinnia to gently place at the base of the polished granite.

Letting his fingers linger momentarily on the silky smooth surface of the petals, Sam lovingly caressed the name and date on the front of the headstone with his eyes. A picture of the deceased enclosed within caught his full attention. In his memory he could still feel the flames, the feeling of her warm lifeblood dripping against his forehead, and the look on her face as she took her last breathe pinned there to the ceiling the two shared. Ironic how a place that was symbolic with security and health had so quickly turned into a tomb. A sheet of moisture erupted against his eyes as the guilt and the pain of that day returned again. He lifted his right hand from the prone flowers to her smile and her hair.

A hand from the ground beneath him broke through the gritty surface and gripped his wrist in a clammy iron grasp before it could reach the picture. Sam's eyes widened in fear as he took an involuntary move backwards, gasping. The skin felt cold and strangely smooth against his. It didn't feel right, not right at all. Slowly starting to panic, Sam tried again to free himself from its unearthly strength and failed. Comprehension suddenly graced him as he realized what this was. Who this was - Jess. Jess had him locked in her embrace, an embrace that should have ended when she was interred. The ground rippled and cracked, Jess's hand releasing a relieved Sam in order to gain leverage to lift her form from the earth. Sam didn't have time to relish in his relief, as from the depth's below he could faintly hear his name. Or was it in his mind? He knew the voice, he could never forget that voice. It grew louder and more pronounced, more desperate. More malicious.

Absently rubbing his quickly bruising wrist, Sam was rooted in place, unable to flee. He was struck crippled from fear and morbid curiosity as Jess's decomposing form rose from the grave like some cheap zombie flick. Her skin had lost its luster, hair falling in ragged patches, eyes sockets left empty and desolate. A mouth that used to smile so sweetly now hung slack, forever open in an eternal wail of misery. Sam could almost hear the laments of the dead, the souls cursed forever to lay in a prison of wood. It chilled him to the core like the wind on a crisp winter's night. The form of Jess was practically screaming Sam's name, other ethereal voices joining her keening to add nuance. As Jess's bony fingers scraped and dragged the ground trying desperately to reach a terrified and panicking Sam, the keening and wailing grew in pitch until he had to cover his ears with trembling hands to block out the haunting echoes of eternity.

Faintly, as if from far off, a hazy and muffled voice made its presence known. It was familiar, comforting, also screaming Sam's name. The voice was different than the ones accosting Sam, it was deep and meaningful. It was alive. Sam held onto the sound of that familiar voice, using it as a buoy in the midst of the a turbulent sea. The more he held onto it, the louder and more clear it became. "Sam!" Jess's grasping talons reached Sam's side, and they poked and prodded him, trying to find a hold in order to pull him under to be with her forever. His skin crawled where the fingers met fabric. The poking became more prominent as the voice grew in strength. Sam twisted sideways to avoid the dry and cracking fingers, but they lunged forward in one last display of stubbornness and the corpse hand of Jess finally had him.

"Sammy!"

Bolting upright, reality struck Sam like a wicked uppercut. He had been sleeping. 'Only a dream, Sam. Only a dream.' Looking around with panicked and confused eyes, he allowed the comforting warmth of reality battle the bitter cold from the realm of nightmares as he located the source of the voice. His buoy. Dean was glancing over from the drivers seat, subtle concern reflecting in his expression. Sam was too busy trying to control his racing heartbeat and calm himself down to reassure his brother. The soft leather of the passenger seat was not the dry, brittle grass of the cemetery, and the man sitting next to the nearly hyperventilating Sam would never let a corpse even get close to him like that. These facts alone allowed Sam to calm his heart and his breathing.

Leaning back on the seat again, Sam studied the scenery passing like a blur outside to keep his mind occupied. It was a country setting, the trees and bushes lining the road and an overgrown wild meadow here and there. He closed his eyes again, willing the nightmares to stay away and allow the darkness of oblivion waiting behind his eyes free reign. It was short lived, however, when a poking at his side interrupted his relaxation. Sam felt a brief moment of panic before realizing it was his brother and not some decaying corpse. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at Dean with only his eyes. He was met with a sarcastic smirk. 'Oh, great. Here we go.'

"You! Sam! Wakey, wakey - hands off snakey!"

Groaning, Sam rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands as he answered, a little annoyance clearly audible. "What, Dean. I'm awake."

Pretending not to hear his little brother, Dean poked Sam in the side one more time for good measure. "Wake up, man."

"I'm awake!" To prove his point, Sam grabbed the lever at the bottom of the seat, shooting the passenger seat straight up from the reclining position. More rough than he planned, but it worked.

A moment of silence between the two allowed Sam to finally notice that the radio was playing. That was nothing unusual, Dean always had the radio playing on some kind of classic rock station. What was unusual was the song. Since when did Dean enjoy listening to Nina Simone? And this song at that? As Sam sat mute pondering why 'I Put A Spell On You' was coming through the speakers and not AC/DC or Metallica, quickly glancing from the radio back to the Dean, Dean looked over quickly before returning his eyes back to the road. The subtle concern was back.

"You were out for ages. You okay?"

"Yes, Dean. Fine."

Amazing. He could have trouble sleeping for weeks, so bad that Dean would be concerned over something going on in his 'freaky little head' as he so lovingly phrases it. But then when Sam actually does manage to sleep, a good sleep, Dean is concerned too. For sleeping too long. A quick rolling of the eyes and a small huff accompanied these thoughts, but Dean never noticed. In the same moment, Dean shrugged and leaned in to turn off Nina Simone just as she was beginning to sing 'And now you're mine…'

"We're almost here."

Looking out the window again, the country setting was replaced by a sprawling suburb of model houses, manicured green lawns, and uniform driveways. There was something familiar about all of this to Sam. Familiar and unnerving. His brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where this was. It was there on the edge of his senses but just out of reach. He never took his eyes off the passing town outside.

"Dean? Where are we?"

Sam was too busy studying the houses and the surroundings trying to gain his bearings to notice Dean's quick annoyed and confused glance over. In true older brother fashion when the little brother fails to notice something blatantly obvious, Dean mimics the severe mentally challenged as he answers.

"You - Jess - house - HOME!"

The name ignited the required memory and suddenly Sam remembered the location. This was a place he and Jess had wanted to go after Sam completed law school and was making an income, a name for himself. But..there was something wrong, something off. He couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding permeating his very being, screaming into his brain like a banshee over the deathbed of royalty. Where did the time go? There was a massive black area of lost memory where the missing time should be starting with the last time he ever saw Jess. This was unusual. This never happened. Sam figured the longer he was here visiting, the more he'd remember the missing time. So he shoved the anxiety to the back of his mind for the time being.

The creases in his brow smooth once more, Sam had enough sense to shoot his obnoxious brother an intense glare before returning to study the passing houses. The suburb seemed to stretch on for miles, house after house, lawn after lawn. It really would have been a nice, safe place to start a new life. A two story house, front and back lawn, fence, driveway. Maybe even a dog. Maybe…maybe a child or two. If… If what? There was that sick feeling again. Not giving Sam much time to dwell on it, Dean spoke startling him from his thoughts again..

"So, excited?"

"About what..?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe being back home with Jess after not seeing her for a good two years?"

Not meeting Dean's curious eyes instead preferring them locked outside, Sam merely shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He was too preoccupied trying to shake this intuitive feeling of danger and something just not adding up, like the beams on the Impala trying to break through heavy fog, than give much more of an excitable answer. It wasn't doing much of anything except blinding itself. 'Two years..?' Seconds of silence passed, broken only by Dean's surrendering sigh, as the scenery continued to pass. Soon, though, the speed of the Impala slowed as they apparently reached their goal. The car slowed to a crawl as Dean carefully guided it to the curb before finally cutting the engine. The two were met with deafening silence until Dean shattered the quiet.

"We're here!"