Run Dean, Run, Stay alive...
Dean raced through the woods, tripping up on the overgrowth of the vines and roots. He could hear the growls and snarls from the hellhounds that were behind him. He had ran for what seemed like forever and he didn't know how much longer he could take, his legs were on fire, his eyes burned from the dripping sweat pouring down his face, the cuts all over his body were now starting to show themselves.
Don't give up, Almost over...
He ran for miles and miles until he didn't hear the snarling of the nasty hellhound pack behind him and he thought he had lost them, so he slowly went into a jog until he came to an open clearing in the woods where he could take a short break in case they came back. He sat down on a rock and took some deep, painful breathes. "What the hell did I get myself into," he whispered to himself as he looked around the woods for signs of the packs return, but saw nothing. He was about to get up and try to find a road out when he heard some sniffing from behind him and didn't dare move. The sniffing soon turned into growling once the hellhounds figured out this was their prey. Dean quickly turned around just as they pounced onto him and started ripping him apart. He felt the first slashes across his smooth skin then...
He sat up with a bolt, drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to him. He looked around wide-eyed at the old motel room and took a deep breathe in. He slowly turned to look at the giant figure sleeping in the bed next to him. Sam was sound asleep, snoring into his pillow. Dean rubbed his eyes and shakily got out of bed to get breakfast.
He had been having these horrible nightmares ever since he got back from Hell and each one seems to become more and more vivid. He didn't know how much more he could take, and how long he could hide them from Sam. Dean slowly walked into the bathroom and took off his shirt. Looking in the mirror, he couldn't see and claw marks from the dream, but he felt them, deep in him.
Dean heard rustling from Sam's bed and quickly slipped on a clean shirt and went over to the kitchen for leftovers. He felt Sam walk behind him to the cabinets for food.
"Hey Sammy..." Sam rolled his eyes at the babyish name that Dean had called him for as long as he could remember.
"It's Sam,"
"Whatever...hey I heard there was a case up in Colorado Springs, people randomly disappearing, four in the last week," Dean explained as he engulfed half a burrito.
"Sure, I'll get us packed up," Sam spoke as he grabbed his salad leftovers and went to his bag to pack his small amount of belongings. Dean stared at him and tried to rid his mind of the images that kept pushing there way in. His dreams were literally killing him if he didn't do something about it, but he couldn't tell Sam, he would never tell Sam. Dean went over to his bag and packed up then both Winchesters went out the door and into the Impala.
Dean turned up the music which was blaring Metallica to distract him as he drove down the deserted road to their next hunt. Sam was looking out the window, watching the scenery go by, as he usually did. They had been driving almost the entire day when they finally made it to the Colorado border.
"How 'bout we hit the hay at a motel for tonight and finish the trip tomorrow," Dean spoke through a yawn. Sam was also fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Yeah, I agree," Sam grabbed both of their bags while Dean checked into the first motel they came to. They walked into the old room and sat on their beds, ready to finally sleep their long trip off. Sam slipped off his clothes and right when his head hit the pillow he was out like a light. Dean on the other hand, took a little longer to sleep. He kept rolling around, trying to get comfortable, trying not to think of the next dream, or he should rather call the nightmares, that he would have. He tried closing his eyes but whenever he would, flashes of his dreams would come back to him and he would rush to open his eyes back open. He knew he wasn't getting to sleep without a little help. He got up and quietly snuck to the mini kitchen where they always held the miniature bottles of whiskey and liquor. He grabbed the strongest, most potent liquor and chugged the whole thing down. He laid back down on his bed and was out within a few minutes.
"Oh come on Dean, can't handle it," Dean heard Alastair's voice ring through his head. He opened his eyes and saw that he wasn't laying in his bed in a motel room anymore. He was strapped to a cold metal table by leather strips.
"You get the hell away from me," Dean growled as Alastair came closer, wielding a long, sharp blade, coated with a thing layer of dried blood.
"Sorry your just to good to resist," Alastair beamed as he slowly stopped next to Dean, staring intently at Deans face. He slid a little table next to him as well, which Dean knew all to well was covered with different weapons and tools that would soon be used on him. This is a dream Dean, snap out of it, Dean kept telling himself, but the more he looked around, smelling the rotten smell of smoke and ash, feeling the restraints on his wrists and ankles, watching Alastair pick his next tool, it all seemed to real.
"Lets have some fun, shall we," Alastair grinned as he made the first cut, straight down Deans stomach, creating a pool of blood around Dean on the metal table. Dean held back a scream as Alastair sliced through his entire body for hours and hours. By the time Dean thought that he had had enough and couldn't take much more, it had been what felt like a whole day. Every time he thought that his body had nowhere else to burn, or cut, or slice, he would magically have smooth skin with no burns, or bruises, or scars, and it would start all over again.
"Well this is fun, am I right?!" Alastair laughed as he took out the hot poker again, slapping it against Deans legs, leaving long black slashes. Dean hissed in pain as his skin sizzled from the burning heat of the metal.
"Screw you," Dean wheezed through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes, trying to get away from this, still hanging on to the little hope that this is actually all a dream, but that hope was slipping fast because all of the pain, the blood, none of it seemed fake, none of it felt fake.
"I have a little visitor for you, come on in," Alastair spoke to the open door and a large figure appeared and walked slowly towards the bloody table where Dean was strapped. As the figure got closer, Dean started to notice its long-ish hair, tall stature, muscular arms. He gasped as the figure stopped next to Alastair and smiled as he saw Deans condition.
"Hello Dean," Sam spoke, intently watching the dripping blood from the many slashes across Deans body. Dean didn't answer, just stared, wide-eyed at his little brother in front of him. It wasn't Sam, he could tell automatically.
"Well, this is very fine work Alastair, I'm impressed," Sam's eyes rolled back until they were completely white. Sam then stared straight at Dean and let out a deep, spine tingling laugh, that would make any grown man shudder in fear. Dean shut his eyes tight to get away from it all. It was all black, he wasn't awake, wasn't asleep. He felt as if he was floating all of the sudden and he kind of liked it.
"Dean," he heard in the distance. It sounded kind of like Sam so he started floating to the noise. As he got closer, his name got shouted louder and louder.
"Dean...Dean...Dean!" He heard over and over again until finally he reached they voice and his eyes were forced open to reveal blinding light and a worried face in front of him. He could automatically tell he was covered in a thick layer of sweat and was breathing very heavily. Sam sat next to Dean and stared as if he was looking for an answer for what just happened.
"Uh..." was all Dean could say, his cheeks turned red and he looked away, he felt like he was four, getting caught having a nightmare by your mom and having her love you back to sleep, or whatever the hell moms do to help the kid.
"Do you mind telling me when you started having these nightmares, you literally broke my nose punching me in the face when I tried to wake you, and don't mention the screaming, I mean, what the hell man, I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore, you don't have to have to whole world on top of your shoulders, let me help," Sam ranted on and all Dean could do was listen, he didn't think he had enough strength to sit up or even turn his head. His body hurt all over as if Alastair was actually here with him at that moment and none of it was a dream. He didn't feel like explaining anything to his mother hen of a little brother, he just wanted to go back to sleep, and not have a nightmare to go with it.
"Are you going to answer me, I will sit here and wait until you do, I have forever," Sam said, already plastering his signature bitch-face on him to try to get Dean to answer anything of why this was happening. He looked at Dean and saw that he really looked like crap, his eyes were sunken in and dark, he was a lot paler than usual, and he didn't have that spark in his green eyes he usually had.
"Can you at least tell me whats going on," Sam finally gave up, he just wanted to know what his brother was going through, once he figured that out he could help his brother, but he knew always to take small steps for big victory.
"Its about...you know..." Dean didn't need to finish his sentence for Sam to know exactly what he was talking about, he was talking about hell.
"So the dreams, are about that," Dean nodded to Sam's question, unable to say anything, because he wasn't going to turn this into a little pitty, girly, feely thing. Sam stopped for a few minutes to gather his thoughts, he just figured out that his brother was having pretty bad nightmares about his time downstairs and he didn't look like he was handling it very well, how was he supposed to help this, it wasn't your everyday run of the mill nightmare that anyone dreams about, it was hell, played back from real experience. Not many people could say that happened to them, thats for sure.
"Is there anything I can do," Sam ended up saying because he couldn't think of anything else. Dean just closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth, trying not to show how much pain he really was in. He could have sworn that if he didn't know that Alastair was a dream, he would check for the slashes and burns across his body, like he did the first time he had this dream, but he knew, he knew it was all fake.
"Ok...well...I'm going to go grab some breakfast for us, there is a diner a couple miles up, you rest," Sam spoke, his voice shaking a little, he felt bad for what his brother was going through, even though he only knew a little part of it. He grabbed the keys and headed out the door, making sure to take his phone with him.
So how did you like the first chapter, I will try to add as many chapters as I can. Please give truthful comments and I hope you liked the start of what I hope becomes an awesome fanfic. :D