Title: Of Silver Bullets & PASIV

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Inception. Pity. However I do own my character Helen :) (even though she is based on FreekyDisaster18)

Warnings: Mild violence in later chapters and a bit of pOrn (ooh er)

Rating: M (being careful)

Notes: First crossover fiction - AHH! Hope you enjoy.

Summary: Helen has recently joined up with the Winchester brothers, and is settling in fine. Until she begins to have nightmares. Sam researches about something called 'extraction' and it leads them to the Dream Team. Whether it will help Helen is uncertain, but trip ups, weirdness, romantic fever and blind fear take over. Dean/Helen but also Helen/Dream Team member.

Chapter 1: Impala Songs & Dean Winchester

Helen sat at her laptop, browsing the Internet. At that particular moment in time she was in a discount hotel room in Madison County, Ohio. Her feet propped up on the bed, and a pillow tucked behind her head: she was in a comfortable position to be in. She wasn't moving anytime soon. Nope, not going to happen. Her laptop on her knees and Bon Jovi in her ears, she was settled. She tapped in, eagerly, to a site called Ghost House. Com. That sounded very promising, she thought to herself. There was a knock at the door.

'Come in!' Then realised the latch chain was on. She pulled her earphones out of her ears and switched off her music, pushing the laptop lid to a close. Getting up, she went over to the door, pulled back the chain and opened it. There she was greeted by a sideways smirk, which stood at around six foot in a leather jacket and convoy boots. In other words, Dean Winchester.

'Hey' the smirk was still there, and his green eyes did that twinkle thing they do. She smiled and moved to let him in.

'You and Sam found anything yet?' she asked as she shut the door. Dean walked passed her and turned around in a pivot. Helen jammed her hands in her jean pockets and just looked at the older Winchester.

'If you mean by that, have we found anything on legends attached to the town, then no. If you mean have we found a diner, then yes' and Helen rolled her eyes briefly.

'Do you ever stop eating. I don't know where it goes. It's like you've got a black hole in there' she muttered, shaking her head, ginger curls falling past her shoulders.

'You sound like Sammy when you say things like that. Are you moving or what?' he asked, and he ws beginning to fidget a bit. Helen snorted a laugh, and grabbed her cardigan from the bed and found her room key in her bag.

The hotel room door shut with a click. The air was swift with plenty of wind and the night had started to spread over the sky. She walked along-side Dean who, ran an eye check over his beloved Impala that was parked in a space. The car was stunning, it was a classic that should never be replaced. It was everything Dean, paired with his classic rock music tastes. Helen started humming Bon Jovi, and sneaking a look at Dean, he had a small smirk on his face.

They crossed the road and into the diner that looked like it was buzzing with enough with people (all local) apart from two at the window who were sat with a map. If there was anything to scream 'tourist' it was that. Helen scanned the place for Sam and spotted him. He sat, not quite at the back, but mid to back and he was reading while nursing a beer. Helen and Dean wormed their way through the people to Sam, who looked up from the book on the table. Helen sat on the inner side of the faded red cushioned seats, with Dean next to her.

'Tell me you've found something in that thing?' Dean groaned, tapping his hand on the table.

'Yeah I have, but it's sketchy'

'Sketchy'

'There's not much history, except for the Bowdega family's first appearance way back in 18th century'

'So, whatever killed the woman knew her connection with the family' Helen said plainly and the brothers nodded. 'Okay, well I've had enough talk of spirits of the supernatural kind. Give me one of the alcoholic kind and I'm fine' and Sam smiled at her. He then took one look at his brother and shook, his now slightly bowed head, with a smirk. The mop of brown hair shook a bit.

'Hey, hyena, what's funny?' Dean said and Sam shrugged. 'Like I said. Sammy here, has one beer and he's singing karaoke'

'Nothing. I'm getting something to eat' but Dean picked up the menu before Sam could get at it. Sam got the next one and Helen fiddled with the salt, making patterns on the table. Dean and Sam ordered, and when the waitress looked at Helen she said:

'I'll have what he's having except a kid's serving' motioning at Dean who was slumped slightly in the seat. The waitress grinned, eyes darting between them and when she disappeared Dean frowned and looked at his brother. Sam gave him a wide-eyed innocent look, then when Dean wasn't paying attention he smirked at Helen.

The rest of the night was uneventful, meaning that there was nothing tangible to find and Helen was getting a bit bored. She had to push for the staff to let her put classic rock on the jukebox. So they decided as a trio to let this one slide and just take a few days off.

These few days were filled with silly games and Helen laughing as Dean and Sam embarked on a prank parade. Dean, for example, ended up with itchy hair when Sam put itching powder in his shampoo. In revenge, Sam soon ended up with writings on his arms and hands in bright pink marker. It was all very amusing to watch. Luckily Helen was not involved, she had warned Dean that she would turn his gun on him if he tried it. Dean, dodging Sam's jokes, found black-out bars to hustle in and won them about $460.

Helen hadn't noticed it. Well, okay, that was a wrong statement. She had, but chose not let it bother her. The nightmares. She had asked Sam about his from before, and she knew hers were different. They had a recurring theme, where the supernatural beings they had been fighting showed up and slaughtered people in front of her eyes. But most of all, when mirrors appeared, Helen faced them and looked at herself. Her eyes had gone completely black and her reflection was moving and talking of its own accord. She had seen weird stuff in reality, but in her own head was just not right. Waking up alone never helped either, but she wasn't pining for attention. She would just sit awake, with her head slapping the headboard, as she nearly feared closing her eyes.

Sam knew, and had told her to tell Dean. To this, Helen merely replied that she thought it was nothing. Sam gave her a look.

'What?' she asked, sitting on the bench next to the kid's park, hair blowing this way and that. Sam, for a minute, just looked at her and then at the park and back. She wasn't being rude. 'Sam I –'

'I know, I just – jeez – I'm a bit concerned'

Helen blinked slowly. She knew that, she knew Sam Winchester had a big heart and couldn't bear seeing others hurt.

'Yeah, Sam I get it. Being a brother to Dean, I don't know how you wouldn't be' her fingers worrying at her jeans. Sam huffed out a laugh, and shook his head, his arms resting on his knees.

'He's difficult. He won't let other people help or care about him sometimes. It's like he's a martyr for a cause that I never signed up to'

That sounded like Dean Winchester.

'Will you talk to him? Just mention it… I don't want this to become a thing' he muttered. Helen shifted in compliance and then grinned at him.

'I think we should go back to the motel, because I don't know about you but I've been watching that roundabout go round and round forever' and that's what they did.

Helen didn't tell Dean that night. Nor did she the next few. And her insomnia was getting noticeable to the point where Dean was eyeing her. Green eyes, watching her movements as if she was about to turn violent.

Hell, she had fought off vampires and confronted pissed-off demons, but Dean Winchester standing cross-armed at her motel room door induced her to clam up. His eyes were blazing, and glimmering with intensity and his jaw was set.

'Sammy told me' he said. Short and sweet, gritting it out and staring straight at her. Helen mentally cursed Sam.

'It's fine Dean-'

'No! It's not! You're a hunter like me and Sammy, and you expect to fight off evil with that kind of stuff in your head? They pray on whatever weak thought you have. I should know…'

He trailed off, his gaze ripping away, looking instead to the chair just to her left.

She didn't have or need to ask, what that meant. Dean's weakness was Sam. The first thoughts in his head are 'is Sam okay?'. The silence was stopped.

'Listen to me. Helen, I used to have one person to look out for, and now I've got another. Yeah, I know your not a little sorority princess who needs taking care of – believe me – but let me do something. You hear me?'

There was nothing else to add. Dean, who was not one for saying exactly what was going on in his head or heart, had been honest. They locked gazes for what seemed like a minute or so. Green eyes into blue, with stubborness leaking out of both.

'Okay. Thanks Dean. I love working alongside you and it'll have to take something pretty damn bandy to stop me' Helen said, smirking. Dean flashed a priceless smile, one he used on countless women. It meant he was back to his stoic self.

'Alrighty. You comin' with, to map out some bars? Or are you staying with the librarian next door?' Dean asked, swinging his hands.

'I would but I don't know how to play poker' she answered honestly. Dean stopped and made a tutting sort of noise.

'Don't know, or won't know?' he asked with a glint in his eye like early. Only this one was softer, if playful.

'Don't know'

So Dean taught her how to play poker.

Helen and the other two sat having breakfast in one of the cafes. Dean was falling asleep in his plate, so Helen pushed it further away from him. Helen was blinking and drinking espresso after espresso to keep her awake. Sam just smiled at the pair.

'Where did you sleep Dean? You didn't come back to the room?' Sam asked in what Helen guessed he thought was an innocent voice.

'And you sound like a bitch from a soap opera. Do I gotta share your attention or something?' he grumbled and Helen laughed.

'Don't know why you're laughin', you kept me up'

At which point Sam put down his drink that was hovering between the table and his mouth.

'Missing something?' and Dean shot his brother a dirty look.

'No' Helen and Dean said in sync. If anything, this made the situation worse.

'Don't know what your talking about Sammy, we were playing poker' Sam's expression twisted with his nickname, but he didn't drop it fully.

'Okay' he said in that tone which meant I still don't fully believe you but okay kinda way.

Helen rubbed her face, scattering her fringe and sighing. Seriously, they had been up playing poker all night. It got to the point where they both fell asleep on the motel chairs. It was a very strange experience waking up, Helen thought. Blinking her eyes open to a sleeping Dean.

'Well, Helen I don't know if you're interested, but I did some research'

Helen watched the younger Winchester. He kept shifting in his seat. Surely Dean had let up with the itching powder?

'Yeah?' Helen pressed and Dean was looking between the two like he was decoding something.

'It's kind of underworld. Like what we do, but instead of fighting the supernatural. They deal in dreams' Sam said and Dean spluttered a bit of his drink, Helen grimaced.

'What?' Dean asked, nonplussed and disbelieving. Helen listened.

'It's psychology. They use people's dreams to extract information, for example, information on a business plan or a cheating husband. It's black market stuff, but there are quite a few teams'

Sam quietened for a minute and Helen replayed what he had just explained.

'Dreamwork… wasn't that a major in Freud?' and Helen and Sam looked at Dean.

'Hey, I'm not completely stupid! Well?…'

'Yeah, Freud said that he could eradicate phobias with dream therapy'

Helen's schoolwork came flooding back to her. She remembered sitting in class and hearing about these theories. When theory becomes a real concept, that's when life gets freaky. Before she met the Winchesters she was sure that things that hid in your closet were just clothes.

'Sam, what you're saying is, that you think they can stop me having these nightmares?' and he nodded.

'Trouble is, the team we're looking for that do therapy are based miles away' he muttered and finished off his plate of food. Dean piped up.

'Where?'

'New York'

'New York? That's going to take a few days! My baby only goes so fast' he got rather defensive over his car.

'Well it will take roughly around 10 hours, but that's without stopping. So yeah, we're looking at a day at best'

Helen had been thinking it over, wondering what it was they did. She knew Sam would have done his research, she wasn't doubting him. More scared if she did this therapy, what she would find.

'Well, I want this dealt with, so we'll check out and start heading off' Dean said and when he noticed he was being looked at he winked at Helen.

What they did on hunt drives, was to rotate the driving. Helen had seen how protective Dean was of his 'baby' when Sam had asked to drive on a hunt in Nebraska. She wasn't that keen on driving, preferring to sit in the back seat. That she did, and the first 2 hours Dean drove, switching between his tapes. Sam began groaning as Helen and Dean sang at the tops of their voices, along to the lyrics of Rock 'n' Roll Doctor by Black Sabbath.

Helen swelled inside because she had managed to get Dean to laugh. Even Sam looked shocked. Flash of white teeth in the rear view mirror. She slipped off her Converse, and put her feet up on the leather upholstery. Still giggling to herself, she watched the landscape go by through the right side window.

A couple of hours later, Helen's eyes slit open. She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but the scenery had changed.

'You okay?' Dean was in the passenger's seat.

'Yeah. How far are we?' Helen asked stiffly.

'Not too far. Are you hungry?' Sam asked and Helen nodded, then remembering he couldn't see her, she said yes.

'I saw a sign a mile back for a café' Dean stated. The rain that had began to pour as they drove over the state, pattered lightly against the Impala's body. She tapped along to the song that was playing, which was Metallica.

Helen surprised the guys with her appetite and finished two full plates and three coffees. Since she had been dealing with the work that they did, her body's need for food had readjusted. Meaning it had lowered, but it appeared to have cranked back up a notch.

After that they rotated once more with driving. Sam had been pushed to the back seat, and was reading something, possibly a book of demon incantations. Helen had been trusted with the Impala. Once Dean chucked her the keys, that she caught on reflex, she offered a smile. This was a sign of definite trust in Dean language. So she handled his 'baby' and before pulling out of the gravel, she changed the tapes around again.

I wake up in the morning and I raise my weary head, I've got an old coat for a pillow and the earth was last night's bed

'I don't know where I'm going, only God knows where I've been!' Helen sung, using the wheel as her own set of drums.

'I'm a devil on the run, a six gun lover, a candle in the wind, yeah' they sung together keeping each other's eye contact for more than a moment. Helen was glad Sam was too engrossed in his own work pick up on it.

Helen knew that when Dean walked into a bar, the girls began to growl and drool. If Helen didn't appreciate Dean's looks, she would have thought they needed a set of silver bullets. Sure he flashed his smile, and winked at the right moments and was smooth enough to receive free drinks, but he left it at that. She felt her cheeks flush up, so she pressed her lips together in order to look determined on the road.

'You get a little but it's never enough on your knees. That's what you get for falling in love, and now this boy's addicted cause your kiss is the drug' Helen sung, and took the I470 E into West Virginia. The impala roared along easily, passing less interesting cars on the way.

'Your love is like a bad medicine' and Dean brushed the knuckles on his left hand across her chin. She knocked his hand away; Dean smirked to himself and peered out the window.

New York was very bright compared to the States they were used to. Lots of flashing posters and loud taxis. High rise buildings; people rushing around and everything bit different. Sam gave more detailed directions to what he had been told, but Dean began mouthing off at how he couldn't find a place to park. So Helen stood with Sam as Dean left.

'So where's the… warehouse… you talked about?' she asked, still gazing around at the new view. She was more used to farm house barns and big set back mansions with huge spaces between.

'Not far from here. I already called ahead and told them a few things' Sam said his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. 'They seemed pretty confident in what they could do'

Helen nodded, and spotted Dean walking back through the mass of people. He reached the pair and then Sam began to walk, explaining roughly where the warehouse was. It was an abandoned art studio that was rented out to anyone who needed it. Cash in hand, no questions asked. Sounded familiar.

Even though they were not on a hunt, and this was nothing like usual for them, they remained a bit cautious in going into the warehouse. The main door (the one onto the street) was open, so they went in. There they were confronted with a gated door and lift with steps either side that mounted ascended about eight floors. There was a buzzer, so clearly the lift needed assistance from above unless you had a key. Sam – who was the one who set this up – pressed the buzzer. The sound echoed in the floors above. There was a faint clicking noise, and then a voice came through.

'Hello'

'Hi, I'm Sam I called for a therapy session'

'A therapy for Helen who has been having nightmares?' the voice was quite deep, a bit like Dean's, but slightly rougher.

'That's right' Sam said and Helen fidgeted from one foot to the other.

'Okay, come on up' and the gate to the lift opened. The lift was spacious enough for approximately eight people. Helen was counting the floors, the lift abruptly stopped at floor six. She pulled open the gate and stepped out to another set of doors. How the hell did art students ever get work out of here? The gate clicked shut behind them and Helen looked at the other two who had been quiet. Dean put a hand on the door and pushed. The view in front was of a wide, ultilitarian decorated studio. Apart from the people, some chairs, and equipment in the shape of a brief case, there was little else.

A man stepped forward; he was quite tall with blond dappled hair and blues eyes and strong jaw. He looked in his later thirties, and he held out a hand to Helen, who took it. He smiled at her but she could see it was guarded.

'Helen. I'm Dominic Cobb, I'm an extractor dealing in mind secrets and psychology' this was the voice on the buzzer she noted.

'Hi'

The man then turned to Sam and Dean who currently stood by her side like bodyguards.

'I'm Sam' Sam offered his hand and was greeted like Helen.

'Right, and you're concerned for Helen's wellbeing' and Helen suddenly felt a bit alienated. Sam and Dean nodded in agreement.

'Dean, I'm his brother' he said motioning towards Sam with a jerk of his head.

'I've been have very strange nightmares' Helen said when Mr Cobb looked back at her. He nodded slowly, looking her over like a test subject and then his expression cleared.

'Before you tell me anything more, I'd like you to meet the rest of my team' he said and walked further into the studio. There were three other people in the room. Helen looked at the whole group. They seemed like a very different bunch of people.

'Arthur?' Mr Cobb stated with a hint of a quetioning tone. A slim built man, possibly in his twenties, stepped forward. Dark hair that was slicked back, dark eyes, – if they were much darker they would be black - his clothes looked as if they were made to measure. The man known as Arthur, held out a slender hand to Helen who shook it and found that his grip was soldier like.

'Good to meet you' he said in a voice that almost matched Dean's tone. Granted the accent was way off, but the lack of outward emotion was much like Dean. Arthur shook hands with both Sam and Dean, looking between the three and trying to work something out. 'I'm a point man – I do the research' and Sam grinned, Dean looking at his brother. That was obviously not all he did, but she wasn't going to ask questions just yet.

It brought to Helen's attention that she had been standing slightly closer to Dean than Sam. So much so, if he shifted he would brush her arm.

A young girl came over, and she looked of similar age to Helen. She held out her hand and introduced herself.

'Ariadne - another extractor' she said and Helen shook her hand. She was a lot smaller than Helen and quite petite and looked confident. With auburn hair flowing past her shoulders, she was dressed like a student. Dean held out his hand and smiled at her. It was an easy smile, one he does without thinking about it too much. Ariadne smiled back, blushing a bit. Poor girl.

Another man had been waiting at the back. He was sitting in one of the chairs scattered in the room, and he flashed a smile in Helen's direction. He was built with strong shoulders and had stubble which peppered his skin. Out of all of the people, he was dressed the most casually which made Helen relax a little. He got up and walked his way over. He held out a hand. His eyes were green (like Dean's) except duller, less intense and a bit more analysing.

'Eames, I'm a forger' he was English. Strong accent that made her stop a bit and think. She shook his hand, his palm was cool to the touch. He then opened his hand to Dean who had stiffened slightly. 'Well sweetheart, we'll help out' he said to Helen. When Eames' phone rang he excused himself and walked away. Helen watched him, before turning her attention to the others. They were then offered seats, Helen choosing the wooden spinny one and focusing on Mr Cobb who sat in a chair opposite her, leaning forward.

'Your friend Sam told me that over the last couple of weeks these nightmares have got worse. Is that correct?'

Helen nodded.

'Using therapy, we will attempt to get to the genesis of your problem and eliminate it. Have you had any previous experience to therapy like this before?'

Helen shook her head.

'This is called the PASIV' Mr Cobb tapped the silver case on the table behind him. He swivelled and opened it in a quick motion. Tipping it he showed the contents to Helen, Dean and Sam. It had many dials, buttons and leads. Looked more like a bomb to Helen. 'A sedative is put through the leads and, like when you have vaccination, we will put a needle to your wrist or arm, and you will be dosed with the drug. Once you're asleep I, or another member of the team, can access your subconcious and find where the problem is'

Helen nodded, taking everything in. She looked about the room and the girl - Ariadne - offered her a small smile.

'It will be easier to understand when I show you' Mr Cobb assured her and Helen agreed. She had read up on psychology and knew her way around Freudian theories, but hearing someone talk of it as if it could be done was weird.

'You know what we do, what is it you three do?' Mr Cobb asked and Sam looked at Dean, who looked at Helen.

This would surely be fun to explain.