Rating: PG-13. Swearing, violence, angst, and some h/c
Disclaimer: It's all Kripke's...lucky.
Word Count: 1243
Warning/Author Notes: Teen!Chesters. Sam is 12, Dean is 16. All mistakes are mine.

Written for Livejournal's 30snapshots. Theme Table 3- Paranormal States. Prompt 26: Hell.

Sam was having the dream again. The same dream he's had five nights in a row now. The same dream that has had him crying and screaming in his sleep. The same dream that has had Dean bolting awake and running to his side in two seconds flat.

Every night when he goes to sleep he casts an anxious glance over to his brother, his eyes scanning Dean's torso before he's sure it's okay for him to close his eyes. But then the dreams start, and he wants nothing more than to wake up and lay with his big brother's arms securely around him.

It's always the same, and no matter how hard Sam tries, and he can't make it go away.

Whenever Dean wakes him, he always makes up an excuse; "it was clowns" or "you and dad got hurt on a hunt." Simple things. Things that Dean could easily believe to be the nightmares of a twelve year old.

Oh how Sam wished it were as simple as a clown or a hunting accident.

No, this was much much worse. And so vivid that it literally had Sam clutching onto his brother every time Dean woke him up.

It was always the same.

Fire and chains and screaming and crying. Blood and tears, bones and body parts. It never changed. It was a constant horrific loop in Sam's mind that would surely turn him mad if it didn't stop.

It never changed...but this time, it did. This time, it went longer.

This time, Sam heard them speak. Heard him speak.

"Why don't you just give in already, Dean? You'll never have to go through this again. All's you have to do it say .word." each word was punctuated by the slicing of a dagger against already destroyed flesh.

"...I'd say go to hell, but wait...we're already here. So how about just fuck you." Dean spat at him, blood pooling out of his mouth.

"Now now, no need for such language—" another slice, "Really, Dean, I expected more from you. When I heard that the infamous Dean Winchester was coming to dinner, I was honestly excited. But this? This is just boring." The man grinned hysterically at Dean as he plunged the dagger into Dean's stomach, twisting the blade before bringing it up, cutting a straight path through his chest.

Dean's scream was loud enough to practically be heard back on Earth.

"You gave up for life for your brother, and for what? To be my new play thing? Honestly, that's pathetic even for a human."

"Leave him out of this! You...fucking bastard...don't ever talk about Sam..." Dean screamed at him, tears and blood mixing as they fell onto the ground.

"Hmm, I'm sure I'll meet him soon enough...See you later, Dean." He said winking as he wiped the blade clean on his pants and turned.

"Alistair! Alistair, wait! Don't you fucking dare touch my brother!!!" Dean yelled out, but his screams were engulfed by the wails all around him, the pleas of other souls canceling out his as they all screamed for the mercy that would never come.

"...S-Sammy..." Dean mumbled as he allowed himself to black out.

"DEAN!!" Sam shouted as he bolted up into a sitting position, choking on his sobs and near hyperventilation.

Suddenly Dean was there, pulling the chain on the lamp and illuminating the room in a soft light.

"Shhh, Sammy, s'ok, I'm right here. Calm down, kiddo. Breathe." Dean urged as he sat next to Sam, rubbing circles onto his back and whispering reassurances to him.

Once he was sure his brother wasn't going to black out, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and rested his chin on his head, allowing the younger boy to cling to his shirt, tears staining the fabric instantly.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dean asked quietly once the sobs died down and Sam was crying silently. Dean felt Sam's head shake and he sighed to himself.

"Sammy...please? I...I'm really scared here. Please just tell me the truth...what're you dreaming about?" Dean all but pleaded with his baby brother but was met with nothing but silence.

"You...I dreamed about you." Sam finally mumbled into his shirt, voice raspy from crying.

"Me? ...And that caused you to cry?" Dean asked lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

That only made Sam cling harder, effectively wiping the small smirk off of Dean's face.

"You but...not you. Older. It was you, but older, an adult." Sam said so quietly that Dean had to strain to hear him.
"It's always the same, Dean, every night. It's dark and evil and I can't get you away from it."

"From what, Sammy?"

"Hell."

That had Dean pulling away from Sam with wide eyes. "Hell? What're you talking about, Sam?" he asked quickly.

"My nightmares...they're of you in hell. Until tonight, I only heard you screaming my name, screaming for help...I never even saw your face, but I knew it was you. But tonight...I saw Dean. Y-you were chained up, all over your body, a...and bleeding all over. He was torturing you...but you never ga-gave in." Sam told him, tears falling down his face with renewed vigor.

Dean was in too much shock from Sam's confession that he paid no mind to his own tears which were now slowly trailing down his face.
"Sammy, I—"

"He was giving you an out, Dean. He was willing to stop...all you had to do was give in to what he wanted, but you said no. He...he said you were down there because of me. You sacrificed yourself for me!" Sam all but yelled.

"Sammy, calm down, it was just a dream."

"No, Dean. Dreams don't happen the exact same way every night! And they were so real. Dean...what...what if it's not a dream? What if it is real...like a premonition or something?"

"A vision, Sammy? C'mon, you know as well as I do that's not possible."

"We don't know that, Dean. I mean, look at our lives! Who says we have the right to say what is and isn't possible after all that we've done?"

"Sam, look, I'm not going to hell, alright?"

"But Alistair—"

"Who?"

"He was the guy...the one torturing you..."

"Right, well, this Alistair guy, can go screw off, because I am not leaving you. I am not gunna go off myself and leave you here alone, there's nothing short of death that could make me do that."

"What if that's what it is? Me...dying."

Dean just scoffed.

"Please, Sammy, give me a little credit here. I'm your brother; it's my job to protect you. And besides, we've got Dad too, and Uncle Bobby. Nothing's gunna happen to you or me, promise."

Sam didn't look completely convinced, but he nodded just the same.

"So...was older me smokin' or what?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

"God, Dean, you're so full of yourself." Sam said rolling his eyes, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips, Dean's intention all along.

Dean just winked and stuck his tongue out at his brother.

"Now then, let's get you back to sleep, school in the morning."

Sam nodded again, but didn't let go of his death grip on Dean's shirt. Dean didn't say anything, just turned the light off, pulled the covers over both of them and laid down with Sam, hoping the circle of his arms was enough to protect Sam from everything around and inside him.