A/N: This is a fic from another site. Sam is married to Sarah BUT Sarah is dead and has been for a while ... Inspiration came from a horrible dream I had the misfortune to have had. ONESHOT Be gentle, it's my first fic! R&R
Disclaimer: "I own nothing to do with Supernatural"
State of Dreaming
Sam woke with a jolt, "F#K!" He sat up quickly and ended up banging his head on the wall behind. This screamed out profanity roused Dean, sleeping in the other single bed, just across from Sam's. "Where's the fire?" He exclaimed befuddled still by sleep, glorious sleep. "Sam?" He queried. There was no answer. Dean sat up, a sick feeling clutching at his stomach. He almost knew for sure that something was wrong. He swung his legs out of the bed and stood wearing only his boxers. He walked the short distance to Sam's bed, briskly, and looked down on his baby brother. Sam was slouched against the wall, his head lolling on his shoulder and his tongue slightly poking out of his mouth. He tried awaking him by gently shaking Sam's shoulder – to no avail whatsoever. Then a snore erupted from the back of Sam's throat, Dean relaxed visibly – shook his head and returned to his bed to catch up on the sleep Sam was already making him miss out on. Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam was deeply taken by sleep and being dragged off into a fitful dream.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
Sam found himself sitting cross legged in the middle of a children's playground. He looked around himself and could see the blurry shapes of children running around and playing with each other, playing chasey, hide and seek or otherwise just having a good time. They moved with impossible speed, blurring and hard to look at for Sam, twisting his head this way and that – trying to keep up with them. The laughter and delightful screams of children rang through his ears. Then a sudden feeling of being ripped in two overtook his senses as he skyrocketed through the air. He paused. Floated back down, and could see himself sitting in the playground. This time he played with the children, moving and laughing and screaming with them, playing chasey and hide and seek with them – a large grin spread across his features. The playground slowly started to dissolve around Sam hovering in the air, and Sam running around in the playground. Time and space stopped and sucked both Sams into a black vortex of sorts, devoid of playground, sunshine or laughing children.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
Sam woke with a jolt, "F#K!" He sat up quickly to the sounds of gunfire outside their room. "DEAN!" He exclaimed in fear. He whipped his head around in search for Dean, soon finding him kneeling beside the front door, a gun in holster and another in hand – a determined look on his face. Dean turned his head to face Sam, his eyes glazed over and a small smile playing over his lips. "What are you doing?" Sam queried of his brother. "There's someone out there – I have to follow." He replied. "WAIT! Don't – I have a very bad feeling about this…" Sam warned Dean. Dean either hadn't heard or had ignored him; shrugging his shoulders, shrugging Sam off, he turned the door handle of their room slowly. The gunshots resounded through the room much louder than they had when the door had been shut. Dean slowly swung it further open to peer around and out into the street before them. Dean slowly crept out of the door and out of Sam's sight. Sam hesitated – should he follow Dean? Something was wrong, something was telling him NOT by any chances to go out there – but it was his brother. He had to follow.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
Sam started outside, looking down on himself he noticed he was barely in any clothing – wearing only his boxers. He whipped his long trench jacket from the side door table and huddled himself into it, walking out into the bright sunlight of the street. He scrunched his eyes and turned his head around looking for where Dean had gotten to. A gunshot fired. He whipped his head around to the place he heard the gunshot come from and found a man scaling a wall of a nearby home, an overlarge coat draped around his shoulders, large black army like boots, tattered black pants and a stained red white shirt. His eyes stood out even from a distance, they were a bright sparkling green and they startled Sam as those eyes bore into him. Dean was easily coming up behind him, first grabbing onto the nearest window ledge and hoisting himself up to stand on it. He grabbed the guttering and hauled himself over the side of the roof in pursuit of the strange man. Sam could see the man aiming his gun at something in the street, a woman seated behind the wheel of her car. Sam ran after her to try and save her when she screamed and fled from the car. A shot fired at the car and Sam dove in to huddle into the back, without realizing he was pressed up against the glass. He turned his head and up to see where this man was. He was standing on the roof of the house, Dean was coming up behind him. The man looked from brother to brother, unsure of who to aim at. He instead directed his gun down at Sam, firing his first shot. It smashed through the glass and dug deep into Sam's side, cracking a rib. Sam yelled out in agony. The man fired again though this time the bullet bit into the side of the car. Yet he took aim again, fired and Sam's world went black.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
Sam woke with a jolt, "F#K!" Dean, startled, sat quickly in bed and shouted out his brother's name. "Oh thank F#K for that!" Sam exclaimed. Dean smiled to himself a little and then worry consumed him. He swung his legs out of the bed and walked the short space to Sam's bed in naught but his boxers. "Are you okay?" Dean asked, more than a little worried. "I'm fi- " Sam started to say before the sound of gunshot rang through the air. "F#k! It's actually happening!" Sam exclaimed, bewildered by everything. "What? What's actually happening? Don't tell me you already saw this!" "I did – and I died…" Sam exclaimed. Dean sat himself down on the end of Sam's bed, trying to take it all in. "You died?" He asked, confused. Sam shook his head, trying to decipher what exactly it was that was happening to them. "There's a man, shooting at random out there, he's going to kill people Dean…" "Then we have to go out after him." Dean settled. That was it, Dean was going to go out and follow whoever it was that was firing their gun so willy nilly. He made to get up and out the door before Sam pulled him back by the shoulder. "You can't go out there, he killed me…" Sam looked deep into Dean's eyes, trying to make Dean see reason. Dean looked back, torn between finding out just who this mother f#ker was and staying behind like his baby brother wanted him to. He made his decision – he made for the door. But not before the door blew open. A man stood in the doorway; gun in hand, an overlarge coat draped around his shoulders, large black army like boots, tattered black pants and a stained red white shirt. He had a look of menace in his startlingly bright green eyes.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
Sam tried to ignore the voice that was calling his name so tantalizingly, trying to focus on the problem at hand. He backed away from the man that stood in the doorway, to come behind the dining table, his hands white with fear and pressure as he gripped the edge of the wooden surface. Dean backed away slightly; his eyes, straight and narrow as they were with suspicion and worry, never leaving this stranger. The man stepped into the room with the air of a killer who knew what he was doing. He walked over to the table and looking from brother to brother, took aim at Sam. His trained eye never leaving the sweat riddled forehead of the youngest Winchester. "You are going to die along with your brother." He stated, rather than queried. Sam gained back his resolve, remembering from before how this man had killed him and questioned him back, "Now why the f#k would you want to do that?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sam flipped the table out of the way and darted forwards, toward the man that threatened them with their lives. He grabbed the gun out of his hand, albeit with a little difficulty, turned the barrel towards the man, took aim and fired. The man's world went black and within an instant he was sprawled spread eagled on the floor, his left leg twisted underneath him and his right arm splayed across his chest. The green brilliance of his eyes slowly dulling as the life of this man left his body.
"Dude, what the F#K WAS THAT?!" Dean exclaimed, clearly confused about the whole thing.
"I dreamt all of this - only in my dream, I was killed - we must have taken more time, and in that time he would have come in - as he did, before you went out to try and catch him..." Sam shook his head, it was all too much.
"Try not thinking about it - I'm not - you've given me a headache already with your psycho mumbo jumbo... Maybe we should leave town - find another job?"
"Yeah..." He shook his head again.
A whisper in the wind… "Sam…"
He twisted his head, now trying to focus on the voice that was calling him. It sounded like... No, it couldn't be - he was trying to forget that, he was trying to forgive himself, hearing voices wasn't a very good thing indeed and he didn't want anything to do with them anymore. Dean packed their bags. Sam sat on the bed mulling it all over. Dean packed the trunk of the impala and made his way indoors to fetch Sam.
"I'll be out in a minute!" Was the call that came from inside, Dean smiled and instead went and got into the drivers seat of the impala.
Sam stood from his position on the bed, looked up to the ceiling.
"I miss you, I love you, I always will - I forgive you, I forgive myself, and now I must go..." Sam said in an attempt to make himself feel better. He walked out the front door and paused. Looked back inside, smiled.
"DUDE! Come ON before christmas 2009 if you don't mind!"
Sam walked on and hopped into the passenger seat. He rolled down the window as Dean gunned the engine, his eyes never leaving the place they had been staying in. They made their way away from this place, leaving it far behind, and hopefully memories behind to be forgotten.
The End