Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Don't make money from them. Dang it.

Sam was pissed off. No. He was mad. Really mad. It had been a bad hunt. Dean was hurt, and that made him so angry he wanted to kill that stupid chupacabra again. Watching his brother hurt, hurt Sam. It made him feel so bad for Dean and sick to his stomach with worry for himself. God I'm selfish. Dean was all he had in the world, and if he'd died tonight -- well, if Dean had died --- he'd have either -- no, not going to think about it, not going to -- push it back, bury it deep --

Dean had denied that he was in pain even while Sam bandaged the claw marks and wrapped Dean's bruised ribs. Of course.

Pain and concern and fear and love … none of them prevented Sam from being pissed off at his stubborn brother at the same time.

Finally Dean had fallen asleep. Finally. Sam had reached for the aspirin and taken his usual four, this time washing them down with water. It would help with the physical pain.

What he wanted to do was to walk out of the stuffy little motel room and run a couple of miles. Or go to a bar and get rolling drunk. He wouldn't though. If Dean woke up and wanted something, Sam would get it for him -- and incidentally prevent Dean from getting up to get it himself. Physically prevent, if Sam had to. The stubborn jerk.

And on top of everything, he was getting a headache again. That kind of headache. Damn damn damn. He was about to see something that would rip his heart out. Last time was a fluke.

He didn't need this. He just didn't. Visions meant something bad was going to happen. Something would happen to Dean. Something would happen to him. Something would rip his guts out just like Dean's had almost been ripped out tonight. Sam's lips twisted bitterly. He always resisted the visions. Tried to stop them happening, tried to wake up like from a nightmare. Not that it did any good. And it hurt.

The demon did this to me. The demon did this to other children too. I wonder if they all have what I have? I wonder if it hurts them too. I wonder what they're like, what their lives are. Are any of them happy? Probably not. He probably found a way to break their hearts too.

Sam's heart was still pounding and he was breathing shallowly. He was just so angry. Sam wanted to break something. But that would wake Dean. He wanted to scream, but that would wake Dean. He hated Dean. He hated himself, and he hated the demon, and he hated Dad, and he hated these fucking visions most of all.

Fine then. Fuck it. Let it come. No struggling, no fighting. Let it come. Maybe his head would finally burst open and he'd be done with his whole stupid, sick, painful life.

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Sam's eyes closed.

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Something ran into the road directly in front of her car. Dana jammed on the brakes, laying rubber. Her school backpack slid from the passenger seat to the floorboards with a heavy thump.

Stray dog?

Stray dogs don't stand their ground and snarl. Stray dogs don't have eyes that glow in the dark.