Sam meets the girl of his dreams, literally.
Having had visions of each other for more than two years, when Sam and Lyla meet all hell breaks loose. Lyla, who is intent upon living a vision free life, insists she doesn't know him while Sam tries everything he can to convince her to trust him. Little do they know the future that is in store for them and how closely their destinies are entwined. Sam/OC with funny Dean and a super cute golden retriever named Bob. Need I say more!
She smelt the smoke before she saw it. It snuck its way through every crack of the decrepit cabin wall, quickly filling the room with its wretched stench. By the time the first flames began to lick maliciously against the old pine, Lyla truly began to panic. Pulling violently at the coarse rope bindings that dug into her tender flesh, she whimpered in a type of panicked despair as they remained firmly intact.
"Sam, they won't budge!" she shrieked to her companion who was also furiously working behind his back. Looking up at her through his mattered, bloodied hair, she saw the first signs of true panic. There was no way out of this one and they both knew it. He shifted his body closer to her, as if to shield her from the coming flames and looking into her green eyes with his own brown ones.
"Lyla... I..."
But his words cut short as they took in the sight of the giant wave of fire rocketed towards them...
"SAM!" yelled Lyla, bursting from her bed and crumbling to the floor in a sweaty mess. Clasping her head in her hands, she breathed deeply as she always did and attempted to reorient herself. It had been a dream, just another dream. Jumping slightly as a warm, wet nose was pressed against her cheek; she turned to find her ever loyal bedtime co-pilot.
"Bad one" she mumbled, choking back a sob as she buried her face in his golden fur. Bob leant into the hug, nuzzling her head in his usual concerned fashion and pushing her in the direction of her bed.
"Can't go back to sleep, Bob. Not tonight." Rising to her feet gingerly, she flicked on her bedside lamp and pulled on her favourite hoodie over her old nightshirt. Bob stretched back on his hind legs, obviously in disagreement about the idea of returning to sleep but followed her companionably into the next room. Taking his usual perch on nights such as these, on the left side of the small floral couch, he waited patiently for Lyla to calm down enough to sit.
But Lyla was far from calm. It had been a long time since she had dreamt of Sam, weeks or maybe months. And never before had she been present in these scenarios. Never had they spoken or even looked at each other. Why had this been different? Had it been a vision or was she simply so put out at not having seen Sam in her sleep for so long that she had simply written her own version of their next encounter? Rubbing her eyes in frustration, she turned to her stove and lit a match to light the burner. As the red wick burst into light, Lyla jumped back in fright as a tirade of images from her dream flooded her senses. The smell of the thick smoke which made her eyes water, the scorching heat of the wall of fire as it connected with her flesh...
Shaking herself awake, Lyla lit the burner and slammed the kettle down with more force than necessary. It was just a dream, she chided herself. Just another wacky file to add to the ever ballooning folder in her mind marked "weird". And really, in the scheme of things, was this so weird? I mean, she had witnessed far crazier things. Pouring the steaming hot water over the tea bag and into her favourite green mug, Lyla frowned as she remembered the last year past.
How, as if overnight, she began to have the most vivid of dreams. Images of violence, despair and death which had plagued her almost every night. Brushing them aside as an overactive imagination or the effects of watching too many violent movies, Lyla had continued on with her daily life, unaffected. That was until she opened the paper to find the front page splashed with her nightmare's victims. Beaten and bloodied, their corpses blared angrily from the black and white images in front of her, mocking her for blasé attitude. Hoping to confirm her hopeful assumption of mere coincidence, Lyla had researched her other dreams and was chilled to discover their existence outside of her dreamland. Piles of bodies from months of dreaming flashed across her laptop screen. Men, women and children throughout the country, who had been slaughtered in their own beds. It was then that she had decided to assist these people, for what other purpose could she be having these dreams, than to help them avoid their messy fates.
And so she had. For months she researched and found the people she saw in her dreams and did everything she could to help them dodge death's plan for them. She learnt quickly that it could not simply be a matter of warning them (as strangely, very few people would heed the warnings of a 23 year old waitress from Memphis) but a matter of pushing them in the right direction. She had locked people in their apartments, hidden car keys, made false telephone calls from police stations across America advising her dream's victims to stay inside due to serial killers on the loose in their area... For 8 months she had worked around the clock to keep people safe and for the most part had succeeded. However with every saved life, there was another lost. She watched as dozens of people lived out her visions and were slaughtered through various means. Lyla felt the pain of these losses radiate throughout her body where they would fester silently like cancerous cells, until on nights such as these, they would consume her in an agonising grief so crippling she could not leave the house.
It was nights such as these, that frustrated her boyfriend the most.
"Why do you care" He would ask as he watched her cry over the morning paper's deaths. "You didn't even know these people?" Lyla didn't know why, but she had never shared with Nick, the true nature of her night terrors. She had never entrusted him with her secret shame and thus could never explain why she felt their loss so heavily within herself. His scornful looks over the breakfast table had grown all too custom and she had quickly ended their relationship. Deputy Sherriff Nicholas St Claire had not taken this well, never having experienced rejection in his 25 years until this moment. To say, their break up was a messy one, would be a major understatement. Lyla rubbed her left wrist unconsciously, as she remembered how he had crushed it tightly in his pudgy sweaty hand as he told her he'd be back.
Shaking herself from this uneasy remembrance, Lyla picked up her tea and padded her way over to the couch. Bob shuffled aside to make room before placing his soft head in her lap and closing his eyes to rest as was their routine. Dunking her teabag repetitively, Lyla thought back to the promise she had made herself not three months ago. She was not to interfere with other people's lives and was going to live the life of a normal human being. She would ignore her visions and doing so they would undoubtedly go away. And for the most part, it worked. Aside from her regular dream dalliances with Sam, the visions of death and violence had greatly lessened over the course of the last few months. It was only two or three times per lunar cycle now that her sleep was invaded by these terrors. She knew it was by this schedule because Fran, her elderly neighbour kept her diligently informed of such events. As a self proclaimed Wiccan, she was rich with advice on how to avoid "scary sleeping" as she called it. Lyla had been weighed down in charms choked down numerous herbal teas since mentioning in passing that she had trouble sleeping and despite a reluctance to believe that it was Fran's potpourri of herbs that led to her dreamless nights, she was comforted by the older woman's presence in her house and gladly accepted her offers. Rubbing Bob's silky ears, her thoughts drifted back to Sam. She wondered, as she always did, why it was that he came to her in her sleep. With his brown shaggy hair, caring eyes and toned physique, he was by no means an unwelcome addition in her mind, yet his appearance frequently left her confused and disorientated. He spoke of monsters, demons and magic, a world of darkness and despair... and yet... his presence was always strangely comforting in her mind. She felt an undefinable bond between them, a bond she had never questioned since she began dreaming about him two years ago. That was, until now. Why was she in this dream with him? What could it mean?
Noticing with a start that her tea had gone cold during her long bout of contemplation, Lyla decided that perhaps she should try and fall back asleep. She was working a ten hour shift at the diner tomorrow. Rousing Bob, who begrudgingly hopped off the couch and headed straight for the bedroom, Lyla stood and trudged back to bed, turning the lights off along the way. Snuggling under the covers she listened for Bob's steady breathing before closing her eyes and falling into a dreamless sleep.
A few hundred miles away, Sam awoke with a similar level of agitation. Sitting up quickly, he cradled his still aching head in his hands as he attempted to piece together what he had just seen. She had been in his dream again. And this time, he had been there too. Sam closed his eyes as he tried to clutch on to the memories that were already leaking away.
They had been inside some kind of cabin, tied to posts next to each other. Then the fire had come, bringing with it a heat so intense neither of them could breathe. He rubbed his arms uncomfortably as he remembered its contact with his skin. The way the flames had consumed them almost instantly...
Swinging around to place his feet on the dingy motel carpet, Sam looked for the first time over at Dean's sleeping form, wondering if his dream had woken him like they so often did. The bellowing snorts that emerged from under his covers, suggested otherwise. Looking down at his watch which cheerfully told him it was 5:30am, Sam inwardly groaned as he picked up a pile of clothes and headed for the bathroom. Stripping quickly, he sighed in content as he stood under the piping hot spray of water. His thoughts once again turned to his dream girl, Lyla. Never before had he seen himself in his dreams of her, and his sudden appearance startled Sam. It had felt like a vision, he realised as he rubbed the shampoo through his hair. Not simply a vivid dream like they were usually, but an actual vision. But that was impossible wasn't it? Hadn't he decided more than a year ago, that she was simply a made up creation by his mind? Her regular appearances in his sleep of more than two years, was merely his mind's attempt to offer relief from the horror of his other dreams, right?
Not that his dreams of Lyla had always been pleasant he thought with a frown. He had seen flashes of Lyla's childhood ... the death of her mother, the drunken violence of her father, the intimidation of a boyfriend... It wasn't exactly peaches and cream, white picket fence stuff... And yet every time Sam awoke from her dream visits, he couldn't help but feel comforted by her presence. His thoughts of Lyla really kept him from going insane with worry over his own life. His visions, his father's death, Dean's anger... it was nice to think of somebody else and their normal life for a change.
Shaking himself from his stupor, he stepped out of the shower and towelled himself dry. Buttoning up his warm flannel shirt, Sam decided that he needed to find a hunt. They had taken a break for the last couple of days to regroup and rest, but he was ready now to go back into the world. In fact, he felt deep in his bones that someone needed their help out there and that with every second wasted on sleep, their chances of survival dwindled. Firing up his laptop, he began his usual routine of checking newspapers throughout the country for strange deaths and disappearances. A few hours later, after a few cups of crappy motel coffee, he struck gold. More than twenty people were missing in the tri-state area, all having disappeared within the last month. All aged 23-25 and each residence showing no sign of a break in. These facts alone did not make a strong case for supernatural involvement but the casual mention of a sulphuric residue found in multiple homes immediately peaked his interest. Demons.
Snapping his laptop closed, he turned to his sleeping brother with a frown. Eyes lighting up as inspiration hit, he crept to his bedside table and set the Elvis inspired alarm clock for a few minutes from now. Sam then sat back down on his bed and began packing his few belongings into his bag.
"YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG!" Blared the radio a few minutes later, causing Dean to launch from bed only to fall in a crumbled mess on the floor.
"Oh, hey Dean" Sam said through a grin "Didn't realise you were up"
Dean looked up at him through slitted eyes, oozing annoyance. "What the hell, Sammy?"
"Got a hunt" Sam responded shortly, zipping up his bag and placing it on his shoulders. Dean looked up at him suspiciously, but got up and began to get ready.
"Where are we headed?" He grumbled, buttoning up his jeans.
"The nearest library" stated Sam, heading out to the car.
"And where's that?" Dean called impatiently
"Memphis"
Lyla awoke a few short hours later to the gentle yet persistent nudging of a furry head. Opening her eyes wearily, she couldn't help but let a giggle escape her as her whole vision was consumed by the smiling face of her golden retriever.
"Hey buddy" She croaked, reaching out to pat him on the head. Taking this as a clear invitation, Bob launched himself at her face which he covered in loving, doggy slobbers. She laughed loudly as they fell into a playful wrestle which ended as it always did with Bob simply sitting on her.
"Alright, alright!" She laughed "You win" And just like that, she was ready for the day. Stepping lightly out of bed and stretching, Lyla began her normal morning routine. While Bob was outside doing his business (and undoubtedly checking on Fran next door for the possibility of a morning treat), Lyla jumped in the shower and brushed her teeth. Pulling her hair back in a simple ponytail, she then threw on her uniform for work. Stopping for a moment to ponder her reflection, she smoothed the lines of her pale blue dress and apron and frowned at the mirror. It could be worse, she mused. Years of track at high school had left her with a decent figure which she maintained through her regular walks with Bob. Her reddish brown hair fell in easy waves which depending on the day and weather could be mostly maintained with a good hairbrush and her face, though plain, was relatively attractive.
"Ok" she whispered to herself as she did every morning "Here we go"
Grabbing an apple for herself and a biscuit for Bob, she closed the front door of her tiny cottage and locked it securely. The small yellow weatherboard house, surrounded in wild flowers was the very essence of home. Though not showy or extravagant, it was more than Lyla had ever hoped for. Crunching across the gravel path, through their communal garden, she made her way over to Fran's equally small yet quaint cottage where she knew she would find Bob. His excited barks confirmed this as she rounded the corner and took in the scene before her. Fran was sitting on her favourite swing on the front porch of her house, muffin in one hand and dog bone in the other. Bob was dancing in excitement in front of her, his eyes never leaving the dangling treat.
"Morning" Lyla called as she approached. Fran looked up at her through her bespectacled eyes and smiled warmly.
"Well there you are girly, Bob and I was just talkn' bout you" She rearranged her fluffy green robe and patted the seat next to her.
"Oh yes?" Lyla said easing herself down in the limited space not taken up by Fran "And what did Bob have to say?
"Said you work too damn hard and could use a muffin" Fran responded quickly, plopping the warm baked good in Lyla's lap. "Apple and rhubarb, baked fresh this morning" And with that she threw the dog bone into the garden, a considerable distance for a woman of her age. Bob immediately took off in search of his present. As he disappeared through the bushes, all that remained of him was his tail, wagging madly in the air.
Lyla bit into the muffin gratefully, savouring the subtle sweetness of the cinnamon and nutmeg.
"Rhubarb, good for your sexual vitality" Fran winked at her, settling herself more comfortably so she could take a good look at her young neighbour. Dark around the eyes and slightly pale, she asserted with mild concern.
"You need to have a sex life, to have sexual vitality Fran" Lyla chuckled, indulging herself in more small bites.
"Well you'd have one, if you stopped working every once in a while" Fran chided "Could go out on the town, take in a show... have dinner... All men aren't like our own Nicholas St Claire" she added with disgust.
Lyla got to her feet and whistled for Bob, knowing where this conversation was headed.
"Thanks for the muffin, Fran. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I've got Bob to keep me company"
"Bob and that dream boy of yours" Fran chuckled as the telltale blush passed over Lyla's pale complexion.
"Don't be silly Fran" Lyla said, attempting an eye roll. "C'mon Bob!" she called to the bushes "Time for work!" She smiled as he rounded the corner, proudly parading his prize.
"You spoil him" Lyla laughed as Bob dropped the bone long enough to give Fran a kiss goodbye, before picking it up again and heading down the path towards the road.
"He deserves it" Smiled Fran.
"We'll see you later. I'm working a late shift so don't wait up" Lyla called, catching up to Bob who stood patiently at the gate.
"I'm making chille! I'll save you a bowl" Fran responded, disregarding her last comment. "You take care, you hear!"
"Will do" Lyla answered with a smile.
The walk into town was a reasonably short and pretty one. Passing various fields and farms, Bob and Lyla fell into the comfortable tread they always did. Reaching the local diner in which she worked, Lyla turned and crouched down to her faithful companion.
"Be good" She instructed, rubbing his ears for good measure "I'll see you later"
Bob smiled through the bone in his mouth, before standing guard in his usual patch of sun next to the front entrance where he lay down and began chewing his bone.
Straightening her apron, Lyla opened the diner door with a cheery clang of the bell and made her way behind the counter. Smoothing back her hair, she grabbed her pad and launched herself into the hustle and bustle of the regular morning crowd. Calling her hellos to the other waitresses and Sal, the burly and permanently grumpy chef in the kitchen, she began taking orders, refilling coffees and handing out hot plates of food. She listened to young children's stories about school and answered their parents when they asked after Fran. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and that was how she liked it.
Before she knew it, it had reached the lunchtime crowd and Lyla was running from table to table, balancing plates of food. She was too busy to notice the two, young out of towners come through and be herded to a booth down the back of the diner
"Finally" Dean muttered as they passed the 'Welcome to Memphis' sign on the dusty old road. They had been driving for hours and his stomach was just about ready to start eating itself.
"Where's the nearest grub?" He wondered aloud, driving slowly throughout the streets, his eyes scanning his surrounds like the hunter that he was.
"There" Sam said, pointing ahead. "That little diner"
"Jackpot!" Dean grinned squeezing the Impala neatly into a tight car space. "Lets do this thing!" Promptly stepping out of the car and pulling on his weathered leather jacket, he quickly began making his way over towards the smell of French fries and onion rings. Sam trailed behind, frowning as he tried to remember why the diner seemed so familiar to him. Must have passed through here before he decided.
Lying down next to the front entrance was a golden retriever, happily chewing on his bone. Sam smiled down at him and leant down to rub him behind the ears in what felt like a natural gesture. The dog leant into his touch and smiled toothily at him.
"C'mon Sam. Let's leave Fido alone and go get some food" Said Dean impatiently, jumped from foot to foot.
"Dean, does he look familiar to you?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother while he continued to pat the silky ears.
"Yeah..." Dean said slowly "He kinda looks like, I don't know, maybe a dog?"
"No Dean, I'm serious. I've seen this dog before" Sam insisted, standing back up with a frown.
"Oh really?" said Dean sceptically "This exact dog, eh?" Lowering down, he leant out a hand. "You've seen this ugly..." He was cut short as the golden retriever barked loudly and crouched down into a growl.
"Touchy" Dean said, standing back up while Sam snorted back a laugh.
"Ok well I'm gonna let you guys catch up," Dean continued, opening the door "I'm hungry". Staring at the golden retriever (who had returned to chewing his bone) for another moment, Sam shook himself and followed his brother through the door, still ajar.
Inside was a madhouse. It must have been peak hour as it appeared half the town had squeezed itself into the cramped, retro building.
"Eating in or taking away?" asked a young, bleach blonde waitress at the counter, huskily.
"In" Dean smiled at her while Sam looked away in mild disgust.
"Right this way" she purred, sashaying her hips as she led them to the back of the diner, into the last booth. Placing two menus on the table slowly enough to give time for Dean to notice her ample cleavage, she smiled a knowing smile.
"Be right back, sugar"
"Well she's getting a tip" Dean grinned up at Sam. But Sam was too busy looking around the diner and frowning.
"Sam, you missed it" Dean tried again "I said she's getting a... oh forget it" he said in defeat as Sam continued to pay him no attention whatsoever.
"Have we been here before?" Sam asked as though Dean had not spoken.
"Memphis?" Dean queried "Don't think so. Only ever passed through, never stopped."
"Hmm..." Sam offered in response. They looked down at their menus and peered at their choices with interest as a waitress approached.
"Can I help..." CRASH! Sam and Dean jumped as a coffee pot smashed to the floor. Looking up, they caught a glance of reddish brown hair immediately crouch down to begin wiping up the mess.
"Sorry!" Squeaked the voice, obscured by her hair. Dean looked wide eyed at Sam and then continued looking at his menu.
"No problem" He said comfortably "We weren't really in the coffee mood anyway" Sam peered down at the young girl on her knees and offered her some napkins.
"Here, looks like you got yourself pretty good there" he said kindly. Either she didn't see them, or she was ignoring his offer, as she continued to pick up the pieces of glass and place them in a tea towel.
"What have you done now, Lyla?" Called the blonde waitress who had seated them.
"Lyla?" Sam repeated dumbly. Peering down again, at the young woman on the floor, he watched as she seemed to visibly stiffen. Looking up at him through a wispy fringe, were two very familiar green eyes.
"I'll just go wash up" She mumbled, getting quickly to her feet and heading toward the kitchen.
"Wait!" Sam called, more desperately than he had intended, but she had already disappeared into some kind of back room. It was Lyla
Lyla hadn't really been concentrating as she made her way over to the last booth to offer them coffee. She had been planning a pie recipe she had been meaning to try out in her head, pumpkin with a chocolate crust... As she neared them, Lyla plastered the usual welcoming smile on her face and began to offer them coffee when she saw him. Shaggy brown hair and overly intense eye assessing the menu. It was Sam! Before she knew what was happening, the coffee pot had slipped from her hand and fallen with a deafening crash to the floor. Lyla fell to her knees instantly and began cleaning the mess. 'Sam was real and Sam was here' her mind played on repetition as she quickly picked up the pieces. This was not good, so not good. She wasn't going to live a life governed by her visions! She had been doing so well! Lyla couldn't let herself get involved with him in any way. She would simply... And then he said her name and she couldn't help but look up at him. She looked into those warm brown eyes and was startled when she saw what looked like the beginnings of recognition there. What! How could he know who she was? She had to get out of here.
"I'll just go wash up" She mumbled, jumping to her feet and speed walking to the hot kitchen. She heard him call her and quickened her pace. What was he doing here? How could he recognise her?
"I have to go home" She found herself saying suddenly to Sal as he stirred pots and flipped burgers. Not waiting for an answer, Lyla grabbed her coat and walked out the back in a daze, deaf to Sal's shouts behind her. Rounding the corner into the car park, she whistled for Bob who bounced gaily over to her and began her escape at a steady pace. She didn't know where she was going. Just away, she had to be away. Anywhere but here, where he was. Refusing to let herself think about the meaning of Sam's presence her e in her hometown, Lyla focused all her attention on placing one foot in front of the other. She just had to get home. Bob must have sensed her discomfort, as his happy walk turned quickly into a steady march, flanking her body the entire stretch home.
When she reached her front gate, Lyla could barely breathe. Dragging in deep breathes of oxygen; she opened her front door and sunk to the floor against it, as it closed. Bob whined and circled her, nudging various parts of her body as if searching for her hurt. He stopped after a few minutes in defeat, choosing instead to drape himself over her shivering form to offer the only thing he could, his warmth.
It was like she was paralysed. Lyla's body simply shut down as panic consumed her. Sam couldn't be here. He just couldn't! Part of her had always known deep down that he was real and that her dreams were not simply her imagination run wild, yet his presence here still remained a shock. Her heart constricted in her chest as she remembered last night's dream. They had been together and... It was a vision, she realized with a start. It was a warning of what was to come. What an idiot she'd been...
But what could she do? She couldn't simply pretend not to know him... or could she? Timidly, she reached out to pat Bob as an idea formed in her head. Sam had not recognized her she assured herself, she was just being silly. Why would he recognize her? He would not look for her, what reason would he have to do so? Sam was passing through town. That was all. He'd be gone within 24 hours no doubt. Lyla would simply stay out of his way until then. If they weren't together, the vision could not come true. All she had to do was avoid him. Simple. Easy. She would call Sal and explain that she had suddenly taken ill and would not be able to come in. She would bunker down for the next two days, giving him plenty of time for him and his brother to leave and that would be that. It would be a good opportunity to catch up on her reading, she mused. Yes. It was decided. Sam Winchester most definitely would not look for her.
"Ok" Dean said slowly, placing his hands on the steering wheel as he frowned "One more time"
"Dean!" Sam whined, placing his hand over his eyes impatiently.
"Just once more" Dean insisted "You have been dreaming about the klutz waitress for the past two years?"
"Yes" Sam confirmed
"Dreaming about her living out her normal apple pie life bla bla bla?" Dean continued
"Well I wouldn't call it 'apple pie' but yes" Sam conceded
"And last night, you had a dream of you too burning extra crispy in some weird log cabin?"
"Yes."
"And you think for some unknown reason, she recognized you in the diner?"
"Yes..."
Dean paused for a while as he processed this information. Sam drummed his fingers impatiently on the dashboard of the impala as he waited for a response.
"Well ok then" Dean said suddenly "we best find ourselves some accommodation. We're gonna be here a while"
Hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think! Need to know if anybody actually wants this to be continued... I have major cool ideas so please say yes! Thanks for reading it anyway