Title: My Dreams of You
Rating: Gen, PG-13
Author's Notes: 8,713 words. Many thanks to my beta fannishliss :)
Summary: Sam's powers aren't as gone as the boys would want to think, and ignoring it might just get Sam killed.

Sam's heartbeat echoed in his ears as he ran down the never-ending hallway. He searched desperately for a door along his pathway, but whenever he finally caught sight of one, it would shudder and vanish. A lung-heaving cough swept through his chest and sent him to his knees. He wanted to look behind him so bad, to see what was behind him, chasing him and causing such terror. He couldn't though; instead his body trembled as the coughs slowly subsided, leaving blood on his hand.

Sam stumbled to his feet, but it was already too late; whatever had been chasing him had caught up. A hand grabbed his arm and swung him around. Sam braced himself to see any manner of monster only to see the fat manager of the motel he and Dean had checked into earlier that day. Confused, he felt himself shudder in terror at the man in front of him.

What the... The man started shaking him forcefully, and Sam was crying and asking for mercy. "Wake up, man!" Sam blinked his eyes open. Dean's face hovered a few inches from his. With a yelp he rolled over and off the bed. "What the hell, man!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, you wouldn't wake up!" He hesitated. "Was it… one of, you know… those dreams?"

Sam stared at Dean incredulously. "I told you that I don't have those anymore, Dean!"

"Yeah, but they could start up again…"

"No! No, they couldn't, Dean, because you know what was causing them? The yellow-eyed-demon is dead Dean! They aren't going to come back!"

"Jeez, no need to get your freaking panties in a twist." Dean got up from the bed and started rummaging through his bag. "Look, since we're both up anyway we might as well get an early start on the day… check out this talking horse or whatever in Westminster."

Much to Sam's annoyance, Dean glanced over at him with a concerned look in his eyes. "Sooo… if it wasn't one of those dreams, what was it?"

Sam shrugged and made his way into the bathroom. It annoyed him that it only took one freaking dream to make Dean start thinking he was… well, a freak again. "Look, man, it was just some weird fucking dream, completely normal and trash." He called from the bathroom but lowered his voice as Dean appeared in the doorway.

"Yeah, well, if it was completely normal you won't mind telling me what it was about then, huh?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, but continued to put toothpaste on his brush and stick it in his mouth.

Dean returned Sam's look. "Dude, come on, don't give me that attitude…"

Like a dog Sam growled in annoyance. He spat and turned towards Dean. "Dean, I already told you it was just a normal dream! I'm not having visions anymore!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you said that already, wonderboy… why don't you just tell me what your dream was about."

"Why?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Well, for one, I had a fuck's hard time waking you up, and for another… you were crying."

Sam stared at Dean in confusion. "I was?" He turned to actually look into the mirror for the first time that morning and was stunned to see tear tracks running down his face. He blushed furiously and wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Dean looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Look, man… if it was about Jessica or something… you could tell me about it…"

"What? No!"

Dean frowned. "Look, I know that I wasn't really part of your life at Stanford or nothing but…"

He was cut off by Sam. "No, I mean, it wasn't about Jessica or anything…" Sam trailed off slightly awkwardly. "It was just a weird dream, dude; I don't know why I was crying." Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was way too early for Dean to go into big-brother mode.

"Yeah, well, there had to be some reason. Just tell me."

Sam turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face before facing Dean. "No, there really doesn't have to be a reason, Dean. My dream was just a stupid one about running down some stupid freaking hallway and then being grabbed by the motel manager that we saw earlier. See! No freaking reason to cry, it was probably just so weird chemical in my brain or something…"

Dean had an incredulous look on his face. "You're telling me that you had a dream about the motel manager that made you cry?" Sam blushed furiously.

Dean got this little smirk on his face. "Dude, if I had known that you were that afraid of him, I would have checked in myself…"

"Oh, shut up, I barely talked to the guy, his wife checked me in. Now will you leave? I got first shower."

Dean gave a huff of disapproval. "Who said?"

"I did, and you're going to let me cause you have been bugging me ever since I woke up and I need to get away from you, otherwise you're going to end up with a very unhappy passenger in the Impala for the rest of the day."

Dean looked unsettled. "Ooookay, whatever. No need to give me an hour-long freaking lecture on it…"

With that Sam rolled his eyes and slammed the door in Dean's face. Finally some peace and quiet.

Sam bit his lip as he tossed off his clothes and climbed into the shower. It really was a weird dream–but one of the many he'd had ever since he and Dean had managed to kill off the demon. Sam figured that it was his mind's way of replacing the headache-inducing visions he used to have, and eventually he would go back to having familiar, stupid, walking-around-naked dreams. Sam shuddered--he really hated those dreams. Still it would be nice if he didn't wake up freaking crying in the mornings…

It seemed like even though the dream had been messed up, Sam had still felt a sort of disconnect. It was like he was aware that he had been dreaming but really not at all, and like he couldn't do anything but follow to the end even with that awareness. He shook his head, frustrated; he couldn't even explain it to himself, let alone to anyone else.

He bent his head down and ducked under the shower-head to wash the shampoo out of his hair. He hoped Dean would just leave the whole dream thing alone. Sam still wanted to smack him one for thinking that it could be visions again. Those had only been caused by the yellow-eyed demon and now that he was gone, they weren't ever going to come back. Ever.

Sam groaned in exhaustion when they got back to their new motel room. They'd been drenched by a freak rainstorm that had hit them while out horseback riding trying to find that one "talking" horse, and it had both of them dreading getting back into the Impala the next day. The whole thing had been a big bust, and Sam was ready to call Bobby up and give him a piece of his mind for sending them out on a wild goose chase. Well, he would have if he hadn't been ready to drop … fuck. Why was there only one bed?

"Dean?" Sam's expression, gaze, and voice all spoke to the issue before him.

Dean looked at the bed with the same aggravation. "Yeah, well, since your weird freaking dream I decided that you shouldn't have to put your delicate sensibilities to the test by dealing with hotel management so you're just going to have to deal with it."

Sam rubbed at his eyes. "What does that have to do with sharing the same bed, Dean?"

"They only had singles left. Apparently there's some big family reunion and they're all staying here… Fuck if I know why--this place is fucking trashed."

Sam sighed and grabbed some clothes from his bag.

"Dude, what are you doing? I get first shower!"

"Snooze you lose, Dean!"

The door slammed shut in Dean's face for the second time that day. If Sam didn't know better he would say he could hear Dean growl from the other side.

Once Sam and Dean were both ready for bed and Sam forced Dean to shut off the TV after a brief argument about Tom Cruise and scientology, they remembered again why they hated sharing beds so much. "Dude, keep your feet on your side of the bed!"

"They are! Your legs are too long!"

"Dean! I swear if you touch your toes to my leg one more time…"

They shuffled around for a few minutes. "Fuck, Dean, just turn around."

"Yeah, right, man! I am not letting you freaking spoon me in the middle of the night."

"Ha, ha, in your dreams maybe!"

After a few more minutes of grumbling and shifting around they finally settled down with Dean somehow draped over Sam much to his vague exasperation. Unfortunately for him, he no longer had the will nor the energy to toss Dean off so instead he fell into a fitful sleep.

Sam grinned broadly as he walked into the smoky bar and headed directly for the beautiful redhead sitting all alone. He ordered a drink from the bartender and smoothly leaned over to ask the exquisite girl what she wanted. She looked up at him through long lashes before whispering her answer in his ear.

Suddenly they weren't in the bar anymore, but outside beside the Impala. Sam gave a sexy smirk as he guided her against the cold metal of the car. She giggled as he began to softly kiss her neck. Before they could get any further though, a haunting howl called in the distance. A shudder ran down Sam's back as he looked behind him, searching for the source of the sound. When he turned back both the girl and the Impala were gone, leaving him alone in an empty field.

Another shudder-inducing call rang out through the silent night. Sam swung around. It was there, he could feel it, but it wasn't coming close… not yet. Still he stumbled back a few steps before turning around taking off running. If he could get to the circle he'd be fine… Sam tripped on a tuft of grass and fell…

Opening his eyes with a start, Sam looked into his own sleeping face.

With that Sam woke up, gasping.

Dean looked at him worriedly. "Dude, you alright?" Sam glanced at Dean and noted that his brother looked flustered himself. "Yeah… yeah. Just another weird dream. You okay?"

Dean seemed to realize he probably didn't look so good himself. "Eh, yeah man. I'm fine--it's just way too hot in here to be sleeping next to somebody." Dean untangled himself from the blanket, stumbled toward the AC, and yanked down the thermostat.

Sam shivered. Dean certainly looked like he was hot even though Sam couldn't imagine it at the moment. Sam ran his hand over his hair and stumbled out of bed as well and into the bathroom. Dean came in after him, giving him a fuzzy sense of déjà vu from yesterday.

Dean looked really tired. "You sure are having a lot of these 'weird dreams,' Sam." He leaned up against the wall.

Sam sighed as he stretched his fingers underneath the cold water in the sink trying to make them feel more awake. "Yeah, I know; I think it's just one of those things. I was so used to having weird crap go through my head that my brain doesn't want to make it stop even though what caused it is gone." Not to mention that Sam was getting more and more messed up about Dean's deal every day-- he was pretty sure his failure so far to figure a way out of it for Dean was the reason behind this most recent dream.

Dean heaved out a breath tiredly, "Are you going to tell my about this one, or am I going to have to drag it out of you like before?"

There was silence in the bathroom except for the soft sound of water flowing from the faucet and down into the drain. "Doesn't matter."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, pulling away from the wall and stepping close to him. "Look, Sam, I really don't have the patience for this right now. I know you want me to be all soft and caring or whatever before you tell me, but come on!"

Sam winced as Dean's hand slowly squeezed the blood out of his arm. Dean was really freaking out and guilt flooded over Sam at being the cause of it.

He sighed. "It… it was about your deal, okay?"

Dean flinched and pulled away. "Oh…"

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Sam grew uncomfortable and brushed past Dean on his way back to bed. "Look, it's late, let's just go back to sleep. Things'll look better by daylight." He glanced back at Dean who had followed him out of the bathroom. They were both exhausted and didn't need to be up during the early hours of the morning talking about crap.

Dean let out a worn-out sounding sigh and climbed back into the bed along with Sam.

This time it didn't take them long to settle down.

Sam woke up suddenly from yet another dream, but managed to stay still on the bed, unmoving. Dean glanced over at him from where he was munching on powdered donuts at the table. "I know you had an active imagination as a kid and all, but don't you think that this is going a little over board?"

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, sitting up but not getting out of bed.

"Seriously it's been at least two weeks of your 'weird dreams.'" It had actually been more than that, but at the beginning they hadn't been coming every night so Dean hadn't noticed.

"I swear if you bring up the visions one more time…"

This time it was Dean that rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like I can trust you to tell me if your dreams start coming true!"

Sam's mouth fell open in shock, and Dean seemed to realize that he had hit below the belt.

"I'm just saying maybe we should talk to someone. These dreams have been causing you to react pretty damn close to the way the visions used to."

"That's because they're fucking nightmares, Dean!" Well, last night he had had a dream about pink cartoony cartoons, but that pretty much counted as a nightmare for Sam so it wasn't entirely a lie.

"I am just concerned is all…"

"Well, don't be! I'm not a kid anymore, Dean, I can take care of myself fine."

Dean frowned, "Well, hurry and get ready cause I want to check out the local occult store here. Riverwood had some pretty nice stuff last time… And maybe they have some books you can look at or something."

Sam knew a bone when he saw one, but he didn't mind letting Dean play go fetch with him every so often. So instead of making a snide remark he heaved himself up and made his way into the bathroom. To his annoyance the only towel in the room was lying damp on the floor where Dean had dropped it.

After a quick shower they made it into the Impala with the minimal amount of rough housing as Sam took his revenge on Dean for messing up the only towel. They made it into town without being pulled over by a cop for speeding despite Dean's best efforts. When they pulled up in front of the Occult store that Dean had been talking about--"Madam Quail's Finest Mystical Material"--Sam felt an unexpected shiver run down his spine. Dean thankfully didn't notice though, and they both got out of the car and stepped into the odd but harmless-looking shop.

The woman behind the counter eyed them both with an unfriendly leer before going back to some paper work. To Sam's utter non-surprise that didn't stop Dean from walking right up to her after pointing vaguely to a dirty shelf of books at the far back.

Sam was happy enough to take Dean's suggestion and made his way through various tables of oddities to where the treasures might be--but to his dismay after about ten minutes he could tell that not a one of these books had any clue what they were talking about. His hopes fell. That's what he got for judging books by their covers.

Now utterly disinterested in the books in front of him, Sam began to look around the rest of the store. There was nothing really appealing on the tables surrounding him, but nearby through a doorway covered with beads there were a few tables that looked promising. Quickly he made his way through the doorway and started going through the items on the closest table.

There were some ingredients in plastic bags used for ritual magic that Sam knew they kept in stock in the trunk of the Impala. What caught Sam's eye was an antique clock inscribed with runes instead of numbers. He knew enough to tell they were Aztec but… he reached to pick it up to look closer, only to get hit with a stick on his hand for his troubles.

Sam swerved around to meet the steely gaze of a little old woman that would fit the perfect description of a witch if Sam didn't know better. "Hey!" Sam shook his hand in pain.

"What are you doing here!" The lady practically screeched. Sam's eyes widened. He hadn't realized he'd been trespassing beyond the boundaries of the store.

The woman from the counter and Dean appeared through the doorway, and Sam looked at them a little desperately. "Uh, I'm sorry--I thought this was open to customers." He had to speak a little louder because the little old lady was muttering under her breath swear words and various other curses at Sam.

The counter woman frowned. "Actually, it is part of the store. Mary, stop that! They're paying customers just as well as you." Mary stopped and glared.

"He shouldn't be here!"

Sam winced and backed away slowly towards Dean. "We done here?"

Dean frowned and nodded. "Just let me grab some stuff from the back; you go on out and wait by the Impala."

Before Sam could make a quick exit out of the store though, the old woman scrambled past Dean and the store keeper and stepped within a inch of him. Her nose expanded as she took a harsh breath, whispering in Sam's ear, "I can smell him on you."

Sam practically ran out of the store and gratefully looked at the sun once he got outside. His dignity might not be intact anymore, but the store had given him the creeps, let alone the old lady accosting him.

Sam turned around to lean against to Impala while he waited for Dean to come out with their supplies and the keys when he saw the old lady watching him from the darkness of the store. If that wasn't enough to have Sam's stomach drop he didn't know what was.

For a moment Sam debated whether he should try to talk to Mary again… He decided against it. There were times when Sam had the courage of his older brother, but now was not one of those times. Instead he got up and walked across the street to an ice cream store where Dean would still be able to spot him.

Freaky old women…

That night Sam had the worst nightmare so far, and that was saying something.

This time instead of taking part in the dream, he felt like he was somehow floating above it, observing it. The old lady from the shop was there, but younger, beautiful. She was watching something through a window that Sam couldn't see. What he could see though was the doll in her hand and her lips muttering words under her breath. Suddenly a heart-piercing scream rang through Sam's head. The old/young lady smirked in satisfaction before turning towards Sam.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously thin. "What are you doing here!" This time she didn't scream, but it hit Sam like a tidal wave. He started to back away, but suddenly she was behind him. "You don't belong here!" Her words flowed into him and began to crush him slowly from the outside in.

Sam flinched and tried to get away, when the look on the old woman's face changed. "You're mine now…"

Sam woke up gasping for breath still feeling like his lungs had been closed off. Dean was behind him, holding him back, trying to talk him through it. "Come on Sam… come on, in… out…, see not so hard uh? Come on…" There were practically tears in Dean's voice and Sam tried desperately to follow Dean's instructions. "Shhh… it's okay Sammy, it's okay, nice and slow." Sam's breathing finally stabilized but neither brother moved away.

"Damn it, Sam."

"Sorry…" His voice came out airy and light, still compromised by the earlier air deprivation.

"Fuck… if I hadn't woken up ..." Dean buried his face in Sam's neck. "Dude, I didn't sell my soul just for you to stop breathing in your sleep you know." Sam felt like crumbling into the bed at Dean's words.

"Dean…"

His brother's arms tightened around him. "I was about this close to giving you the Heimlich maneuver, you are soooo lucky." Dean's wobbly attempt at humor fell flat and died.

"Just… what the hell happened, Sam? One minute you were fine, and then I could hear you start rasping for breath and… just fuck man."

"I guess…" Sam took a breath, "guess my mind is playing tricks on me…" Another breath, "had a dream where I couldn't breathe, so, I guess I started just enacting it or something."

Sam could feel it when Dean froze behind him. "Another dream, huh?"

"Yeah…"

Dean climbed out from behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"I am fucking calling Bobby! Sam! These dreams are not normal!"

"No! What the hell! We've already had this conversation. They're just my brain going cold turkey or something from the visions."

"Ha! You actually expect me to buy that, Sam? That's the dumbest idea I ever heard." Dean grabbed his cell phone and started dialing. Sam tried to leap for it, but the earlier oxygen deprivation had done him in and Dean was able to pin him down with one hand fucking easy.

Sam tried hard to breathe with Dean sitting on top of him. "Not really helping the situation here Dean…" His brother's eyes widened and he got off of Sam in a split second.

"Just... just stay there man…"

Sam sighed, but did as Dean told him, wasn't like he had the energy to do anything right now anyway. Stupid Dean. They didn't need to call Bobby. They were just normal fucking dreams--admittedly odd and scary but when were Sam's dreams ever not.

To Sam's relief, though, Bobby apparently wasn't picking up the phone at three in the morning, and Dean's phone call went to voicemail. Dean glanced at Sam, frustrated. "Bobby. It's about Sam. Fucking wake up and call me back." Sam's eyes widened a bit. Dean was a little more freaked out than he originally had thought.

"Don't fucking give me that look, Sam."

"What look?"

"Shut the fuck up. We should have gotten help days ago. Way before something like this happened."

"Dean, they're just dreams…"

"No, they fucking aren't! Do you think I haven't seen the bruises?"

Sam shifted to sit up more on the bed. "I don't know what you're talking about Dean. I get bruises all the time, same as you."

"Hah. Bruises that aren't there before you go to sleep and that suddenly appear in the morning."

Sam felt his stomach do a sort of flip flop. "Dean, you're just freaking out. I don't get weird bruises from nowhere. They just take a while to show up is all."

Dean practically growled as he stalked over to Sam and sat down beside him. "I don't recall you being choked recently, do you?"

Sam flinched a bit, bringing his hand up to his neck tenderly. He had thought it was just his throat hurting from earlier. He stumbled into the bathroom. All across his neck bruises were beginning to appear. They were going to be bad too. Fuck.

Dean appeared behind him. "You still expect me to believe you about your dreams, dude?"

Sam looked away from Dean's eyes in the mirror and instead looked down at the dirty sink.

Dean sighed. "I knew that I should have done something earlier… before something like this happened. I kind of wanted you to tell me yourself though. Why couldn't you just tell me, Sammy?"

"They aren't visions."

"What the fuck are they then!"

Sam shuddered. "I don't know, Dean! Damn it, they… they feel sort of like visions, but I know they're dreams! I can tell the difference between reality and… whatever this is."

Dean grabbed onto Sam's arm hard. "Dude, why whenever I made you describe what the fuck your dream was, didn't you ever tell me that it felt like a freaking vision! I mean fuck…"

"I don't know…" Sam's voice wobbled a bit, "I just… I thought I was imagining it or something and…"

"Let me get this straight. You thought you were imagining your fucking visions while getting bruises from them?!" Dean's eyes were piercing straight into Sam's head.

Sam finally met his gaze. "Dean, I swear… I didn't relate the bruises to my dreams. We get hurt so much, and I don't know, it's easy enough to hit something weird in your sleep…"

Dean looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?" Sam blushed a bit in response. "Sam, what the hell… these visions you are having…"

"They aren't visions!"

Suddenly Dean seemed to come to some sort of realization. His eyes narrowed in thought. "Is that what this is about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your whole denial thing you have going. It's because you don't want to have visions anymore."

"Of course I don't want to have visions anymore, you kidding me?" Sam was having a hard time breathing again and leaning against the counter wasn't helping as much anymore.

Dean sighed and grabbed hold of him, hauling him back to the bed. "Sit."

Sam gave a resentful look for being bossed around, but did so all the same. Dean sat down next to him and draped a lose arm over his shoulder.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Dean glared at Sam for his question.

"What does it look like I am doing?"

"You're the one always complaining about personal space."

Dean was about to reply when he abruptly changed the topic back to the one he wanted to talk about and Sam desperately didn't. "Look, Sammy, even if you do have visions…" --with eyes rolling, Dean cut off Sam's repeated denial-- "even if you have dreams that feel like visions… It doesn't matter. We can take care of it."

Sam tensed up even more and looked at Dean a little desperately. "It can't be visions because the yellow-eyed demon is dead--"

"Sam… maybe he wasn't the reason"

The silence in the room rang through their ears.

"That… that can't be."

Dean sighed, "Why not? It's not like it makes you… not you."

"I don't want to be a freak."

Dean abruptly twisted Sam towards him. "Dude. You aren't a freak!"

"That's not what you said before."

"I was fucking joking!"

Sam looked down and wouldn't meet Dean's eyes.

Dean sighed, frustrated. "Even if you are a freak, that's not so bad… I'm a freak too."

"Last time I checked you weren't having psychic visions or… whatever my dreams are."

"Just because you got that corner of the freak kingdom covered doesn't mean I don't get a piece of it too. And look man… aside from well the dreams and hunting and whatever, you are the fucking most normal guy I ever met."

Sam merely hmmed in response.

"I mean it. Seriously. You kick ass at normal. Any time you want, you can go and just be a normal person and no one will even suspect you of being a total super hero under the cover of night…"

Sam hit Dean on the shoulder. "Oh, fucking shut up, Dean…"

Dean grinned.

The phone rang from across the room where Dean had dropped it. The brothers held each other's gaze for a moment before Dean got up to go and answer it. He glanced at the caller ID before picking it up. "About time Bobby."

After a few minutes of Dean filling Bobby in about what was going on, Bobby asked for Sam to be put on the phone. "Hey, Bobby."

"What the hell were you thinking waiting so long to call, Sam?"

Sam glared at Dean a crossed the room who was pretending to not be listening in. "I didn't feel like some random dreams warranted major attention--until tonight, I guess…"

It took about fifteen minutes to get through all the questions that Bobby asked him about his dreams. Especially because Dean had to add his input every so often about the supposed half-truths Sam was telling, at which point Sam would argue with him for a minute before returning to the phone conversation.

Finally it seemed like Bobby had come to some sort of conclusion. "Well, I definitely think you're right about them just being dreams, Sam; they don't sounds like any real visions I ever heard of. But I do think you and Dean were wrong about you not having psychic powers anymore."

"You sure? I mean, couldn't it be some kind of spell? or…"

"No, don't think so. I think that with the demon gone your powers have been storing up, and when you dreaming your powers are making your dreams real for you."

"Oh."

"I still have to look up a bunch of stuff and call some of my contacts because this honestly is not my specialty. Just try not to go to sleep before I can get back to you about this stuff, alright?"

"All right, Bobby. Thanks."

Bobby hung up and left Sam to face Dean.

"So, what does he think is going on with you?"

Sam frowned darkly. "Apparently they are just dreams like I thought but some kinds of remnants from the demon are making my dreams real or something."

Dean walked back over and sat on the bed opposite to Sam. "Bobby said it was remnants of what the demon did?"

"No, but what else could it be?"

"Dude… maybe you're just special."

"Why wouldn't I have always had something special about me then, huh Dean?" His voice rose as he got more freaked out.

"Fuck, just calm down, Sam, maybe whatever you always had was just sleeping and the demon woke it up …"

"Like that's any better!"

"What is that supposed to mean?! Huh? You just need to get it under control is all, and then it'll be fine. At least it's better than having visions about people dying!"

Sam flinched and hid his face in his hands. He knew that Dean was just as freaked out as he was, but it was really hard to deal with this. He had been so happy when he had thought that maybe he was finally free of all this trash.

"Look… why don't you get some sleep or something."

"Bobby said not to go back to sleep."

"Dude, you look awful. How are you gonna make it without sleep? You've never had more than one of these dreams a night, have you?"

"Hmm…" Sam didn't really feel like chancing it at the moment. That dream had really freaked him out.

After a second of seeing if Sam would actually respond with more than a grunt, Dean rolled his eyes and came over to flop down onto Sam's bed.

"What are you doing?!"

"If you aren't going back to sleep then we might as well watch some TV. Scoot over would you?"

Sam grumbled a bit as they situated themselves on the bed and Dean started flicking through TV channels.

For the first hour they were both doing pretty good, but the second hour had Dean drifting to sleep in a half-awake state and Sam feeling like maybe Dean was right about catching some shuteye.

Just as the sky was starting to get lighter, Sam finally shut his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

Sam freaked out when he realized he was dreaming again but then he recognized that the feel of this dream was similar to others he had had. Definitely not the slick oiliness his last dream had been. For a minute he wasn't sure what was going on, all he could tell was he was in the front passenger seat of the Impala with "Enter Sandman" playing softly in the background. Then he saw a figure coming out the darkness towards the car. He tensed and grabbed the sawed-off shotgun from his lap.

The figure was getting closer and closer until finally Sam saw that it was Dad. He gave a sigh of relief and checked in the back seat where a six year old-Sammy was still sleeping. What the hell? Dad was talking to him about doing a good job, and he was saying something about it all going well and… Why was he sleeping in the back seat? They were driving down the road when it started snowing. Sam's little self woke up in the back seat and started asking if they were close to home.

Suddenly a figure jumped in front of the car and Dad slammed on the breaks but it was already too late--the snow had caused ice to freeze on the road. They started skidding towards the figure. To Sam's horror, he saw his own face briefly before they hit.

The body went tumbling over the hood and Dad was swearing up a storm. Sam was crying cause they had hit the other Sam. He stumbled out of the car and was shorter than he expected but still was able to grab hold of one of Sam's hands that were hanging off the car limply. "Sam, it'll be alright… Sam?! Sam?!"

Sam woke up and blinked dazedly into Dean's eyes that were still panicked. After a few moments of anxious silence passing between them Dean finally spoke up. "You… you fall asleep?"

Sam swallowed. "Yeah." He was also starting to suspect what his dreams were about. "Hey, you have a nightmare just barely?"

Dean blinked at him. "No, you're kidding me, right? Dude…" Dean got up and walked into the bathroom.

Fuck. Dean had most definitely just woken up from a nightmare, but… there was no way.

"So, what are we going to today?" Sam called out, desperately trying to think of something else.

"I thought that maybe we could drive a ways you know… maybe get closer to Bobby's."

"Yeah… sounds good to me." What about the rest of his dreams-- were they all from other people? He still couldn't know that for sure. He didn't ask what Dean's dream was about. Maybe it was just a weird dream where he was one of three Sam's… Weird thought in and of itself. He started packing up. If he had been accidently viewing Dean's dreams, it certainly explained why he was having a ton more sex dreams than normal.

Dean came out of the bathroom. "Yo, shower is available; we'll go as soon as you're ready."

Sam nodded and tried to be convinced he was not really some kind of dream voyeur. Ew.

Sam and Dean had only been in the car for about two hours, and already Sam felt like he was driving himself insane. Admittedly his dreams made a lot more sense if they were actually other people's. So far, most of them seemed like Dean's, but several would have fit with other people he'd met only briefly. Like that pony one—and that little girl who would have slathered cake all over Dean's jacket if Sam hadn't stopped her. It was people he'd touched whose dreams he was seeing. All except that creepy old lady. She had just sniffed him or something. Sam shuddered a bit, causing Dean to glance at him and turn down the air conditioner. It was probably about time for Sam to tell Dean of what he suspected, but he really didn't feel like admitting that he had been spying on his brother's dreams for the past month or so. He couldn't exactly imagine Dean's reaction, and what he could imagine he really didn't want to face right now.

Sam glanced over at Dean. Maybe they could fix this somehow without revealing the whole sneaking into other people's dreams part. Right now Bobby was trying to figure out how to stop Sam's powers from making his dreams in a sense come true. So maybe Bobby's research would get to the root of this other problem as well. He really wanted to research it himself, but Dean would notice anything he did; if Bobby didn't call back soon Sam would try to get some time alone for a few hours.

Underneath him the Impala's seat was beginning to get vaguely uncomfortable. With a slight huff of breath he maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position and settled in for the long haul. It really wasn't his intention to fall asleep though, and as each passing mile went by his eyes got heavier and heavier until Sam was sound asleep.

"I missed you earlier." The old woman stood before him grinning madly. They were surrounded by dark emptiness this time that pierced through Sam's lungs with cold. "It won't happen again." Sam felt like he was falling and then he screamed.

"Sam?" Dean looked over at Sam, concerned. His brother had been sleeping fine up to the last few minutes but now it seemed like he had fallen back into one of his nightmares. Dean didn't want him to get hurt again, especially after the scare that morning, so he was keeping a close eye on him, prepared to wake him up at the first sign of trouble.

When Sam started whimpered through his teeth, Dean jerked the Impala to the side of the road and started to try and shake Sam awake. "Sam? Sammy, come on bro, wake up; don't want to get yourself hurt man. Sammy?"

The witch walked slowly to where Sam had fallen on the ground. "I could see it on you at first glance, you know. It's amazing that you have survived this long."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Creatures like you are an abomination, I can't let you live."

She knelt down and smirked, saying, "That doesn't mean that I can't take what I want from you first though."

Beautiful un-aged hands reached out towards Sam's chest and became wrinkled and spotted as they moved along their path. Sam screams had died down to whimpers, but when the witch suddenly clenched her hands around his heart lightning flashed down through his core.

He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Sam jerked up like he was having a convulsion and all Dean could do was watch, horrified. Dean slammed his first into Sam's face and was relieved when Sam finally opened his eyes. Leaning over he grabbed hold of Sam's jacket and pulled him back over in what could have been seen as a hug, but Dean thought of as support. "Dude, what the hell was that?" Sam's eyes were way too frightened for Dean's taste when they met his.

"It was the old lady again." What the hell did that mean?

"Dude, I cannot believe that old lady was enough to give you nightmares twice in a row… I mean come on… What does she do to you-- want to stuff you full of candies until you choke or something?"

Sam was still pale from his nightmare. "I think she might be a witch or something." Dean studied Sam's face carefully. There was definitely something that Sam was hiding from him, the question was what?

"That would make sense considering she was in a fucking occult store. But I don't see why this would scar you for life so… you mind elaborating on that? If you want to blame these dreams on her you are going to have to do a lot better than that considering they started two fucking weeks ago Sam."

Dean glared at Sam while he tried to sit up and away from him. After a brief scuffle, which Dean of course won, Sam gave up and leaned back against Dean.

"What is up with your touchiness lately!" Sam accused.

"Touchiness?"

"Look what you're doing, let me up!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh, please forgive me-- you're the one who happens to stop freaking breathing every time he goes to sleep. Besides you're avoiding the subject. I asked you a question, Sammy." Dean didn't really want his actions analyzed at the moment. He was feeling pretty irritable about Sam getting hurt and not telling him about it (even if Sam somehow didn't know about it, which still boggled Dean's mind). Besides he was allowed.

Sam's gaze now wandered to the window and Dean felt frustrated that he couldn't get him to keep his gaze for very long. "Come on, Sam; tell me what's going on." Dean paused. "You're really scaring me, man." Sam's eyes snapped back to his, and Dean could feel a breath full of air heave out of Sam.

"I..." Sam trailed off before starting again. "I don't think I've been having nightmares."

Dean looked at Sam confused, "I thought you said that they weren't visions."

Sam blushed furiously. "No, just..." He paused again, "I think I have been having other people's dreams," he blurted.

For a minute Dean wasn't sure how to respond, he just stared at Sam. "What the hell does that mean?"

Sam's blush showed no signs of disappearing anytime soon, which Dean would make fun of him for later. "I guess when I go into other people's dreams somehow it makes them become real, and that old lady…" He paused, "I think I accidently went into her dream, except it was weird you know, because usually I am in the person's perspective that I am dreaming of… and this time I was just watching her. I guess she must have some sort of protection against things like this …"

Dean decided it was time to cut off Sam's rambling, "So I take it she wasn't happy to see you the first time, let alone the second time?"

Sam shuddered. "You're pretty much right about the first time, not so much the second time."

Dean tensed up. "The second time?"

"I didn't mean to, I mean I just barely realized that I was probably going into other people's dreams, I swear I didn't mean to."

"Sam, second time, what happened?"

"I don't man… she controls the dream somehow, it's really fucking painful I mean… fuck." Dean could feel Sam tensing up from the memory. "Anyway she just said some weird crap, but I think she's like dream stalking me or something."

Dean felt furious that anyone would go after his brother like that. "How do you figure?"

"Well, the first time it was like a repeat of what happened at the store, that I wasn't supposed to be there and… well some weird stuff. But I think I really ticked her off or something because the next time she said she missed me once, but wasn't going to again." Sam paused, "I swear I didn't do anything to tick her off the first time, Dean, and I thought that this whole thing had to be triggered by touch or something, but the old lady only touched me with her stick and kind of sniffed me." Sam's look of discomfort would have made Dean laugh if he hadn't had to resist the urge to reach out and hug the kid.

"Fuck. All right, I'm gonna call Bobby back. Hopefully he'll know what to do. I'm not letting you fall asleep again until we have figured this out."

Thirty minutes later after Bobby had finished chewing out Sam over the phone, while getting all the information he could squeeze out of the boy, the three of them had a relatively promising plan. The witch had her prospects set on Sam for one reason or another, something Bobby thought Sam knew about more than he had said, so they were simply going to deter the witch for a few months until the kid could figure out how to control it or stop it altogether.

It sounded fairly simple, but when Bobby actually got to the part of how to deter a witch from controlling a guy who was wandering around in other people's dreams, the only solution Bobby could come up with was to keep Sam on a leash of sorts. Something definitely easier said then done.

He sighed as he went over to some of his books with phone in hand. First thing first, he needed a soul catcher that would keep Sam as close as possible. The fucking things were hard to make too, weird looking dream catchers that looked more like a tunnel spider's web than anything else.

The boys were going to owe him big time for this one.

"Hey, um, Dean can you pull over?" Sam's knee bounced nervously.

"Dude, we just stopped like an hour ago."

"Yeah, well if you want me to stay awake we're going to have to get more coffee, and I need to piss."

"Sam! Seriously, man, way too much information. I'll look for a place to stop, but we need to get to Bobby's as soon as possible." He started scanning the skyline for signs of the next town or pull off with services.

Sam snorted and started putting his legs up on the dash which Dean quickly put an end to by bashing down on them with a glare. "Man, you're mean. Bobby's probably not going to be done with that dream weaver for a while after we get there at this rate."

Dean felt the urge to cuss Sam out. "I swear I am killing your caffeine intake after this. And your fucking dream weaver isn't the reason I want to get to Bobby's so bad, it's so I can get away from your face a freaking minute and let Bobby babysit you instead!"

"Hmm, I would think Bobby would be too busy working on the dream weaver to be able to babysit, Dean." Sam giggled madly. "You're so silly sometimes."

Dean made himself count to ten. "Thought it was a soul catcher," he sneered.

Sam ignored him. "Did I ever tell you about how in my Physics class I got like a 101 even though that's like technically impossible?"

Why was it that when Sam was both sleep deprived and on a caffeine high he started talking like a valley girl? "It was way awesome; like my professor was totally mystified when some kid complained about it." Sam broke in mad giggles again.

He definitely had to make it up to a hundred. "Sam, if you have to start talking about times past at least tell me something cool." Dean sent Sam a pained look.

Sam's giggles were starting to drive Dean insane, he could just feel it. "I volunteered to help tutor some kids on weekends so that I could get a better meal plan…" Dean was dying. "And like one of the guys that I was tutoring on totally started hitting on me with John Wayne impersonations! It was sooo funny." Sam cracked up.

Dean had been trying to stoically focus on the road right up to the part where Sam had said, "hitting on me."

"What?!" A slow smirk was growing on Dean's face. This was going to be such good black-mail material.

Sam kept on giggling, "Yeah, he totally was! I just about died." If Dean wasn't careful it would just about kill Sam again. The guy looked like he was having a hard time breathing through all his giggles now.

Dean heaved a breath. He'd better put an end to Sam's good mood, laughing was exhausting and he didn't want the kid falling asleep on him even with the caffeine high. Every time Sam fell asleep now it took longer and longer to force him to wake up again.

It was time to change the subject, "So you think Bobby is right about this dream weaver thing being able to keep you inside your own body from now on?"

Sam's face scrunched up. "That sounds so gross Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Sam was doing something weird with his hands now, trying to make shadow figures with passing car lights. "Well, Bobby didn't say that it would necessarily be able to keep me in, apparently my powers need some kind of outlet, but yeah it should stop me from going into other people's, and definitely that witch's."

Suddenly Sam seemed to mellow out, and the caffeine shudders that were running through him began to take on a different feel.

Dean looked at Sam worriedly. "Dude, I thought you said this would fix it?"

Sam snapped back out of it and looked at Dean in unfair exasperation. "Of course it will fix it, just now I will be wandering around the motel room rather than anywhere my powers decide on."

"If that's the case we are so going to start sleeping in different motel rooms."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, right."

Dean glared over at Sam before focusing back on the road. It was probably true, but Dean needed a change in topic for the hundredth time. "So you think that's why you went into the witch's dream even though she had already wigged out on you once?"

"That's so not fair. I didn't do anything the first time, and didn't mean to go into her dream…"

"But you did, and now she's ticked off at you."

Sam frowned. "Yeah, ticked off. Right."

Dean looked at Sam suspiciously. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam looked utterly serious for the first time in the last twenty minutes. "Well… I think she wanted to do a Rogue on me."

"…A Rogue."

"Yeah, you know… suck my powers dry and kill me in the process."

Dean's hand clenched tighter onto the steering wheel. There was no way some bitch was going to get his little brother, he couldn't help it when his foot pressed on the gas a little harder.

Suddenly Sam was close to tears. "Are you mad at me?"

Dean jerked his eyes in Sam's direction before focusing back on the road. "What?! No, I mean yes! You shouldn't have kept this from me; we could have figured this out ages ago."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's so not what I was talking about. I am talking about me spying on you." He was looking at Dean in a rather creepy wide-eyed fashion now that was wigging Dean out.

"What the hell do you mean spying?"

Sam pouted. "Well, I definitely had a preference for your dreams more than anyone else's. It makes sense since I am with you all the time. I would have thought you would have figured out figured it out by now."

Dean nearly slammed on the breaks. "You have been sneaking into my dreams!" He yelped.

"Seriously, you need to cut down on the celebrities. I'm scarred for life."

Dean desperately wanted to either bang his head against the wheel of the Impala or push Sam out the door while he was going sixty. Maybe both…

Sam grinned, "Hey, I made you blush!"

It was going to be a fucking long two hours to Bobby's.

The End