I'm baaa-aack! And after a long hiatus of reflection on my (seriously) disappointing previous SPN fics, I'm about ready to start anew and bring you something worth reading and with less ambiguity. (I'll probably go back and edit them later for those who care.)

I've decided a new story was in desperate need to be written, so here is the product of my restless mind. I wrote this all in about a day or so, so please don't critique too harshly. I'm really looking for plot points rather than grammar nit-picks at the moment (I'm way too tired for that).

So, I certainly hope that all of you will enjoy reading this as much as I will writing this. I also sincerely hope this will turn out a million times better than how my last fic did. Confusion towards the end, I know.

I'll be sending an email to those who have me on an Alert List for my previous story to tell them that this is the next, and hopefully more successful, installment of my 'Scary Just Got Sexy' continuation.

Without further boring you, I give you "Enter Sandman"!

Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are not mine, but oh my they are so fine. The WB's got all the rights, so please don't start any fights.

Chapter 1: A Good Night's Scream

Utica College, New York

One Week Ago

Piew! Whoosh. Ker-smack.

"Aw! Naw, dude! You did not just do that!" one boy groaned, furiously twitching the Playstation controller.

The other boy didn't reply, only concentrating more intently on his car maneuvering the course. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he twisted his shoulders in an attempt to will the virtual vehicle to turn as well. Josh Judd was a focused individual, good with his studies, and a devoted athlete. Sometimes his friends said that if he tried hard enough, his concentration could shatter a glass. He excelled in school and vowed to get a doctorate to impress his father.

Brad Trenton, his roommate, on the other-hand was not so concerned with school. He figured that since he was lucky enough to get into college, he didn't necessarily have to try anymore.

The male electronic voice sounded as Josh's car crossed the finish line first. "Player 2 Wins. Game Over. Game Over."

Josh got to his feet and rested the controller on the floor, "I'm tired." He ran his fingers through his short red hair and proceeded to shuffle off to the bunk-bed.

"I'm still amazed at your skill, man. That's just amazing. No one's that good at gaming. One day, though. One day I will beat you!" Brad defiantly said, switching off the game and scaling his top bunk.

"In your dreams," Josh teased, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Luckily for Brad, he did win in his dreams. Unluckily for Josh, however...

Brad was startled awake by his roommate's furious screaming. His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly as his friend shrieked, "GET THEM OFF ME! GET THEM OFF ME!"

"Josh! Hey! Josh! Come on, man! Wake up!" Brad shouted, leaping from his bunk and landing at Josh's side. The boy thrashed around and kicked at the wall, continuing to scream in agony. Brad tried to grab hold of his shoulders but he couldn't hold on long enough.

"NO! NO! NOOOO!!! THE SPIDERS!" Josh continued to holler, tears visibly streaming down his face. Although his eyes were closed, he was still crying, obviously the night terror was very real to him.

Too real.

Brad was beginning to get clearly upset and frustrated. This must be some sort of sick joke to get me out of bed. "Hey, dude! Cut it out! It's not funny anymore," Brad said, furiously grabbing hold of his squirming friend. All of a sudden, Josh stopped and fell limp. It was eerily quiet in their dorm room once again. With the dead weight, Brad slowly let Josh fall back onto his pillow. He watched him for a few minutes, just in case he started up again. He never did. Never even moved. Not the slightest rise of breath. Brad furrowed his eyebrows and stared.

Cautiously and curiously, he extended his hand and held onto Josh's wrist. No pulse.

Shocked, Brad stared at his friend, his heart racing. What the hell just happened? he thought. Brad leaned over his friend and began frenetically doing CPR. One pump, two pumps, three pumps--... Brad began to breathe frenetically, panicking.

A small hiss escaped from Josh almost as if the life was whisking away. Brad stopped the procedure, hopeful that his friend was coming back. To his horror and surprise, from the corners of Josh's closed eyelids a small trickle of sand poured down to the pillow. It was pearly white, almost like the sand one would find at the beach.

Swearing and screaming in terror, Brad leaped to his feet and backed away to the wall. In an instant, he turned and bolted out the door and down the corridor, out of sheer disbelief.

The mound of sand slowly waned and ceased, leaving the motionless body in silence once again.

Utica, New York

Present Day

A black, 1967 Chevy Impala rumbled down the narrow country road, zooming passed rows of corn and farms in the bright Fall sun.

Sam Winchester sat in the driver's seat, gently tapping on the steering wheel and quietly lip-synching to the song playing from the radio, "Hide Away" by Rock Kills Kid. Dean, however, snored against the window, his cheek pressed firmly onto the glass. A small river of drool slowly crept down the window, a fact completely oblivious to the owner of the precious car.

Where Sam was driving, he really didn't know. The only thing in his mind was to find himself some breakfast.

Sam took a glance at Dean out of the corner of his eye and quickly did a double take. He saw the stream of liquid and smirked light-heartedly. He was tempted to return the favor that Dean had so happily given to him a few weeks ago involving a spoon and a camera phone, but he rationalized that he was what would be considered the "good cop" of the duo and ignored his brotherly impulse to seek the other's embarrassment.

Dean really did deserve to sleep, especially after last night's hunt. Well, more like this morning's hunt, since they hadn't caught the damn thing until about 4:00 a.m.

Besides, Sam thought, this is the first time Dean really got a chance to rest since Dad--...

Sam's thoughts drifted away from the topic that had plagued his thoughts for days and returned themselves onto his grumbling stomach.

Laying on the road just ahead was a small convenience store, a perfect stop for a traveling appetite. Sam turned the Impala into the tiny parking lot, accidentally running over a large pot hole. The sudden jolt shocked Dean, whose eyes went wide as he jumped in his seat, "Dude, get your monkeys..." his lids drooped and his head bobbed, "monkeys... off of my... crackers." Dean snored loudly as he collapsed once more onto the glass window.

Sam parked and switched off the engine, staring in amazement at his brother. How can anyone sleep like that?

He poked Dean in the shoulder with the edge of the key to the car. Dean only swatted away Sam's hand and wined about someone "playing tennis with Frank's dog near the post office."

Laughing, Sam stepped out into the sun and stretched his arms over his head as he opened the door to the nearly-deserted store.

Among the stacked aisles of party-sized candies and Red Bull stood two younger men. One was wearing an orange hoodie sweatshirt with the Utica college mascot, the Pioneer Moose, plastered above an ice hockey graphic. The other was the clerk who was wearing the customary red apron of the convenience store.

They were talking in low hushes just before Sam walked in, and immediately stopped at the sight of him. Sam gave a friendly nod to the pair before heading towards the refridgerated section.

As he opened the door to retrieve a half-gallon of milk, Sam overheard the remainder of their conversation.

"So the police think it was suicide?" the clerk asked.

"Yeah, they said it was an overdose on sleeping pills. Completely accidental. But I don't buy it," the hockey player whispered.

Sam casually turned from the milk and proceeded to pick out a box of pop-tarts for him and Dean to split. Cherry? Chocolate? No, most definitely strawberry. He pretended to be deciding as he continued to eavesdrop.

"Why's that?" the clerk asked.

"Josh had everything going for him. Why would he overdose?"

"Like the police said, it was an accident," the clerk reasoned.

"I still think something else was going on that night. It just doesn't add up..."

By this time, Sam had heard enough. You know what they say about the cat and curiosity. "It's terrible what happened to Josh," he said, putting down his purchases on the counter.

"Terrible? What are you talking about? It's über freaky, that's what it is," the guy in the hockey shirt said.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed and the guy asked, "You do go to school here, right?"

Sam blinked and decided to play along and cheered awkwardly, "Y-Yeah. Uh... Go Pioneers!" He punched his fist into the air, using what information he could gather from the guy's shirt.

"You must've heard by now, then," the hockey player said.

Sam shook his head and the hockey player smirked, "Where have you been? Living under a rock?"

"I guess so. I don't really get out much..." Sam said, hoping that the guy would buy it.

The hockey player gave him a disbelieving snort and continued, "Brad, Josh's roommate, swears that his buddies eyes turned into sand. I mean, how ridiculous. They were definitely smokin' somethin' in that place for him to believe any of it."

"His eyes? Sand?" Sam asked, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah," he said. "I mean the guys a total psycho now. He keeps saying that his friend died of a night terror or something, that's when it happened."

"Really..." Sam said, taking the bag from the clerk who had just rung up his breakfast. "Well, thanks for filling me in." He backed out, grinning and holding up the bag, "Gotta study up for mid-terms."

In a millisecond, Sam was gone.

"God, what a square," the guy in the hockey shirt said, watching him leave. "Who studies for mid-terms anyway?"

Meanwhile, back at the Impala, Sam ducked back inside the car and threw the Pop-Tarts in Dean's lap. He jerked awake again, this time staring in confusion at his breakfast. "What's going on?" he asked groggily, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"I think we've got another job," Sam said, revving the engine.

"A job?" Dean asked, now fully awake, and ripping the box of Pop-Tarts open. "Good work, Sammy."

"I just stumbled on this one. Pure coincidence... but I don't know if it's for sure a true hunt. It's just college speculation, but what do we have to lose?"

"Another night's sleep," Dean said, chomping off the corner of his breakfast and popping in a tape from his impressive collection of classic rock.

"Enter Sandman" by Metallica blared in the speakers around them and Dean grinned at his younger brother, "I love Pop-Tarts."

At that, Sam pulled the car out of the drive and accelerated towards the Utica campus, not knowing how relevant this song was to their hunt.

Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Please, if there is something that isn't right about this fic, please let me know. I will try my best to edit or otherwise tweak to give the reader the most entertaining and fun Supernatural fic of mine so far. All critique is welcome, but please try to be civil about it.

Special thanks to Outsane for being my life-saving Beta.