Title: Over and Over

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Sam

Prompt: 001 Fall

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of torture.

Word Count: 375

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.


Dean dreams of falling. Over and over again.

He curls up on the motel bed and tries to stave off sleep as much as he can. It's 4:03, and he's still awake. In two hours, it will be dawn.

He can hear Sam's breathing over on the other side of the room, but it doesn't soothe him. Sam can't save him from the nightmares.

He knows the routine. One minute, he's awake, and the next he's swallowed by darkness with something after him. He remembers. He remembers it all. Sometimes, he remembers things out of order, or things that never really happened.

And in the shadows, his nightmare awaits.

"Dean. My good boy. Hello, Dean." Alastair's voice reeks of memories.

In his dreams, Alastair is always standing there. Sometimes, the rack is there. Sometimes, it's not. But, Alastair is always smiling.

Dean backs away and bumps right into the demon himself. Alastair is everywhere. In every corner of his mind; breathing in his ear.

"Missed you, Deano."

Dean chokes and tries to turn away, but Alastair grips his torso and holds him fast.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Dean is staring into the demon's white eyes, and he can't look away. His reflection is imprisoned in their glassy spheres.

He screams in the blackness and sometimes wakes himself up.

Other times, he wakes up on the rack, watching lovingly caressing the very familiar knife until Dean feels bile rise up in his throat. He knows he won't scream right away, and a knows it too. He purposefully drags it out; teasing him with the blade.

"So shiny, isn't it? Beautiful, quiet, and gets the job done. Kind of like you, Deano."

Dean wails pitifully, and he struggles against his bonds out of habit. There's no avoiding your fate here. Your punishment. Your hell. His feeble movements make a laugh and laugh until the sound reverberates everywhere.

Dean screams in real life; clutching at the blankets and thrashing wildly against the mattress.

"Dean? Dean, what is it?"

He looks at Sam through terrified eyes, but plays it down. He never wants his brother to know if he can help it. "Another nightmare."

"What? Do you remember it this time at least?"

"No."

Dean lies over and over.