I do not own Supernatural, its affiliates, or its characters. Spoilers for All Hell Breaks Loose, parts one and two. Some language and violence.

Second in the Cold Oak AU Series. Sequel to Haunted

—TS (DoC: 02/16/08)

Nightmare

And Sam woke up to the sound of someone yelling: "Hello! Is anybody there?"

His name was Mike. He worked construction in New York City. He'd woken up two minutes ago still wearing his hard hat and confused as hell. Sam was the first person he came across, but not the last.

Sam felt his heart hammering in his chest as four more people gathered in the square of the haunted little town, near the bell that'd so frightened him his first day here. He didn't know what to do. He'd tried leaving, again and again, in the weeks he'd been stranded here. He always ended up turned around and back where he'd started. So they couldn't leave. Someone had to come get them, from the outside. Or be let go.

Sam didn't hope that Dean or Dad would find him. He didn't. It was stupid.

He decided that, for the moment, names were more important than powers, and got acquainted with the remaining four people. Jen, Simon, Mick, and Rob. And Sam and Mike. Six of them. Jen was a photojournalist; Simon was a bum, Mick a corporate employee, and Rob an orderly. They'd all woken up here within the last five minutes, confused as hell.

Sam told them he'd been there for weeks. He told them about demons and spirits and the things that went bump in the night. He told them he was a hunter (not a Law student, not now, not anymore) and a psychic and why they were here. He didn't tell them there was no way out. He couldn't (wouldn't? was afraid to?) hit them with everything at once.

It was Jen who was the first. Sam should have been surprised, but he wasn't. She'd had a broken, not quite sane look in her eyes when they'd met, and a power that cut a swath of destruction where she wanted it to. She killed Mike and Mick before Sam could stop her. And the only way to stop her was to stop her.

Sam wasn't sure how he'd managed it. She hadn't been as skilled and in control as she'd first seemed, true, but knowing the weakness and being able to exploit it were two different things.

Sam wasn't sure how he'd been able to stop her. But he knew the blood would never come off. She was going to kill me. Sam told himself. She was going to kill Simon and Rob. I had to stop her. I had to.

Sam went to sleep trying to convince himself he wasn't playing right into the demon's hands and woke up to Simon screaming bloody murder (probably literally, Jesus Christ), and then silence. Rob walked into Sam's room covered in blood, shaking and wide eyed.

"He–he–I had to." Rob told him. "I had to. I have to leave–I have to–god I've got to get back to Marissa and my kids. I've got to go. I've got to get back. I can't stay here!" Rob was clenching a bloody pipe in one hand, knuckles white. Sam lifted his arms slowly, kept his face blank.

"I know, Rob. I know. I'll get you back to your family. Just put the pipe down, okay? Nobody else has to get hurt. Put the pipe down, and I'll get you back to your family." Sam had no idea what he'd do if Rob listened to him. Sam couldn't even get himself back to his.

And what family would I go back to? Who would welcome me? Dad never has. He didn't even come to the wedding. Dean won't, after I spent all that time making sure he'd never get close enough to see.

Jess is dead.

Maybe Rob saw that despair on Sam's face, despite the former Law student's best efforts. Maybe he hadn't heard Sam at all. Maybe Rob just didn't believe a word he said. Sam had been the messenger, after all.

The fight was violent and brutal and desperate. Rob was a beast of a man used to wrestling patients down in throws of madness, and Sam had rust on top of rust when it came to fighting. He got clipped in the head by the pipe before he managed to get it away from the other man, and the wound bled into his eye and made his balance uneven. It was that handicap and his own desperation that did Sam in, imagining that son of a bitch's yellow eyes grinning out at him from his father's face and thinking I've got to stay alive, I have to; I've got to kill it. It killed Jess. It killed mom. I can't die until it's dead. I can't die. And his body trying to adjust and his reflexes and instincts taking over because he was half blind, and then his attacker threw a punch that left an opening and Sam's body moved like it was trained to, moved in and up and grabbed and wrenched, and then Rob collapsed to the ground with a terrible crunch.

Sam knew it was a sound he'd hear in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

He fell to his knees next to the body and looked for a heartbeat even though it was absurd to think it would be there when he'd broken Rob's neck. Sam checked Rob's pulse and breathing and had to force himself not to do CPR on a dead man. Only succeeded because he knew he'd be bringing the man back to life for nothing but agony and a slower death.

Sam bent over the body, wrapping his arms around his middle and pressing his bloody forehead to the other's chest, and managed not to scream. It was ridiculous to hope that Dean would find him. That Dad would even look.

Sam knew that. But it didn't mean he couldn't hope to wake up from the nightmare.