Usually Sam would have woken up by now. He'd had this dream plenty of times before over the last three weeks, and they always ended when a fireball came down from the ceiling and engulfed him on the bed. Dean had never been there to drag him away before; Sam must have missed him more than he realized. That didn't change the fact that Sam wanted desperately to wake up, for the dream to end and for Jess to come out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her to kiss him goodnight and good luck and welcome back.
Now Dean had dragged him out the door and into the stairwell, and Sam let himself be led and pushed to the exit and into the cool night air. He would wake up now, for sure. He would wake up and hug his very much alive girlfriend, and they'd go to sleep together and he'd wake up and ace the law school interview and he and Jess and Brady would go back to the bar to celebrate. But first he had to wake up!
Sirens from firetrucks grew louder and closer until Sam felt like his eardrums were going to rupture, but he didn't cover his ears. Crowds of college kids and young families gathered around to watch in horror as the apartment burned, but Sam ignored them. He scanned around looking for something to clue him in about why he was still dreaming, about what his subconscious was trying to tell him in the extended version. Dean, always hyper-aware of Sam even in his dreams, led him to the back of the crowd towards the Impala.
"Dude what's going on?"
"I don't know why I haven't woken up yet…" he absently replied, still scanning behind his brother for clues. If he could trust anyone in this dream to help him, though, it would be Dean.
"Oh God," Dean muttered to himself, swiped a hand across his face, then took Sam's face roughly in his hands. "Sam, I need you to focus."
Sam listened. Finally, someone was going to tell him how to wake up.
"You are not dreaming. This is really happening, Sam, and you're not going to wake up. I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you different, but there's no waking up from this one."
Wait, but… He'd dreamed it before… Yeah, this was different, but it wasn't that different – just a lot louder and hotter and with Dean and longer. And Dean wouldn't lie to him, even in a dream –
Oh God.
Sam's legs buckled, but thankfully Dean caught him and leaned them both against the side of the Impala as Sam battled for control of his body past the wracking sobs brought on by the crushing reality. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream, but why did every nerve in his body scream at him to just wake up? Why did everything seem too bright, too loud, too fast? Why was Jess dead?
It was that question that brought Sam back into focus. Without warning, he pushed away from the car and brushed Dean aside to go to the trunk and check the weapons. He had to answer that last why; he had to find Jessica's killer. Maybe then he would wake up.
"We have work to do." he said to his brother, and closed the trunk.
Dean looked uncertain.
AN: I wrote this like a week ago and forgot about it? Title comes from Avenged Sevenfold's "Nightmare".
