Red. Everywhere. The colour was as intense as the blood running in gory rivers down his body, over other, more profound wounds. He was surrounded by millions of identical souls screaming in the excruciating pain they were forced to endure every day under the wrath of the most sadistic demons Hell could conjure up. But the worst were saved for him.

Strung up in what seemed to be oblivion, barely withstanding thick, iron chains penetrating into his delicate flesh with their brutally unrelenting grip, he called out for his brother for what had to be the thousandth time, his voice so hoarse it was barely comprehensible. Still, the pain refused to cease. His torture was eternal, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He still heard his brother whispering his name as he had faded away into this Hell, desperate, longing for him to hear…

"Dean…"

"Dean!"

"Dean! Wake up!" Sam yelled at his older brother as he remained reluctant to regain consciousness, despite the fact that it was clearly causing him discomfort. A moment later, Dean jolted awake with a start, his attentive green eyes wide open. He realised he was drenched in sweat from his recurring nightmare, which was awaiting him every time he drifted into sleep, no matter how tired he was or how much he drank before becoming unconscious. The young hunter was constantly plagued by memories of his time down below, yet he refused to let on to Sam how much his nightmares got to him; how terrified he was of Alastair, the most malevolent torturer of all, and his inevitable return. However, Dean was dragged out of his thoughts by his brother's voice yet again.

"Dean, are you okay? Were you having nightmares again?" The younger Winchester's face was full of concern, a definite crease present between his eyebrows and a slight frown upon his lips.

"Nah, I'm fine, Sammy." Dean replied in as reassuring a voice as was possible, since he couldn't quite muster up a smile so soon after waking up. Eager to change the subject, he dragged a hand down the full length of his face and sighed wearily, addressing his brother once again. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Uh… Just after four-thirty." Sam stated, peering over his laptop (which was placed on a table in front of him, omnipresent as it was) at the clock on the wall. They were staying in yet another cheap motel in Virginia after finishing a case around seven hours ago. It was the usual residence for the brothers: hideous brightly patterned wallpaper, hard therefore uncomfortable mattresses and a not-entirely-hygienic en-suite bathroom. Obviously, it wasn't the ideal lifestyle, but they were used to it by now, after pretty much living that way since they were far too young.

Dean groaned at Sam's remark of the time and almost went straight back to sleep again, but knowing that slumber was only a false sense of security prevented him from doing so. "Aw, man! This is way too early for anything. You're not seriously telling me you've found a job? At this unholy hour?"

"Yeah, afraid so. Then again, you were the one who wanted to be distracted – I'm only providing cases because you told me to, Dean."

"I guess… Although I'm sure as hell regretting that already." Dean sighed again, and then continued. "Well, what do we got?" He asked, reluctantly standing up and beginning to pack his things, ready to go.

"Fort Wayne, Indiana. A guy was found hanged yesterday morning in his apartment without warning. Doors and windows locked. According to the local cops, it was physically impossible for him to hang himself at that height and position." Sam read from the various articles he had up on his laptop, like he had many times before. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"So? Could just be a generic suicide. Doesn't seem like much of a case to me, Sam." The older brother remained skeptical.

"Maybe. But, get this; there have been three more deaths in the same town, completely identical, in the last week alone." Sam raised his eyebrows back at his brother as Dean's expression rapidly changed from wary to accepting.

"Fair enough. What are you thinking, vengeful spirit, something like that?"

"Sounds like it. Plus, we have gone much further for a lot less…" Sam trailed off, staring up hopefully at his brother, his expression verging on his infamous puppy-dog eyes. He disliked his research accounting for nothing.

Dean nodded, giving in, heading over to the bathroom for a wash after finishing up carelessly throwing clothes into his holdall. "Sure, it's worth checking out. It's only a couple of states over. If we set off now, we could be there by mid-afternoon."

As his brother splashed his face with tepid water from the rusty motel taps, Sam hastily shut down his laptop and packed it in his rucksack along with the unloaded gun from the top drawer next to his bed – he had already pre-packed his clothes, figuring he would find a job for Dean to jump on pretty soon. As he pulled on his jacket and waited patiently at the door, Dean's head appeared around the corner of the bathroom door.

"Dude, what were you doing up at this time, anyway?" The older brother looked rather comical, his hair still stuck up at all angles, since he hadn't time to brush or style it in any way, and a toothbrush half-hanging out of the corner of his mouth, crusted in white toothpaste which was rapidly drying. His eyebrows were pulled low over his sleep-encrusted eyes in confusion, as if he simply couldn't comprehend his younger sibling's willingness to be up in the early hours of the morning, researching cases and not even expressing grumpy tendencies.

"Couldn't sleep." Sam replied nonchalantly. Dean shrugged and disappeared back into the bathroom, finishing brushing his teeth quickly and following his brother out of the motel with his bags. The young (and older) Winchesters almost smiled to themselves. They were both pretty sick of the tiring demon and angel activity going on recently, so it was good to be able to forget all the rubbish that was ridiculously forced upon them; there was nothing better than a good old-fashioned hunt.