Enter Sandman, Part Two
Word Count: 3092
Summary: To defeat a rouge Sandman, Dean and Kate enter her dream in which she recalls her worst memories.
Warnings: abuse, implied sexual abuse
A/N: PLEASE give me feedback! Message lifeofsnark.
"No." Dean looked mulish.
"You use yourself as bait all the time. I don't really sleep, I use all kinds of chemicals to knock myself out, I am his ideal victim," she insisted.
"This thing is killing people, Kate! We don't know how he does it, but somehow these people are eventually giving in!"
Sam looked up from his laptop again. "Well… this site say that the Sandman's brother makes you relive your worst memories until you accept death."
"Is there any way to beat him in the dream?" Kate asked. "Some loophole?"
"You aren't going to like it" he said. She just looked at him patiently. "You have to accept it. You have to live it until it isn't your worst memory anymore."
Kate's gaze shifted to the parking lot, but she wasn't focused on anything. They all silently wondered what their worst memory was. Considering that both Winchesters had been to hell, they had lots of memories to choose from.
"Dammit, Kate." Dean looked at her, his green eyes deep and sad.
She shrugged. "It's the job."
"Wait-" Kate and Dean swung their gazes towards Sam. "With the Dreamwalker, Dean and I defeated it by going in together. We had backup. That might make all the difference- we wouldn't ever let you choose to die."
"Do we still have some of that awful tea left; the one that let us enter the person's dream?" Dean asked.
"No, but we're in the deep South- there's got to be a place around here that sells real Hoodoo."
"Um, guys- maybe I don't want you in the dream with me," Kate inserted. "Would you want me to watch your worst memory over and over?"
Dean gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "You either let us come into the dream with you, or you don't go."
"Who is going to be watching our bodies? We're in a cheap motel. There's a security problem with the plan!" she protested.
"I'll guard you and Dean" said Sam. He looked at Kate evenly. She had admitted to Dean how hard it was for her to rest; she would probably prefer to have him in her brain.
Dean smirked at her, knowing she couldn't come up with anything else. "There's a couple shops on the other side of the city that look like they may sell the real deal. Let's go look." Sam told them. Dean grabbed his keys.
It took several hours, but they did find the herb they needed. Kate didn't trust the guy who sold it to them, but Sam told her it smelled just like the stuff they'd taken to get Bobby back.
It was getting late by the time they were back in the crappy motel room. "Feeling tired?" Sam asked Kate after brushing his teeth. He settled on the end of his made-up bed, hands clasped together. He waited for a reply.
"No, and you're freaking me out looking at me like that" said Kate. I'm not a zoo exhibit." She looked at the packet of tea Dean was holding. "How does that work?" she gestured at it.
I wait til you're asleep- I'll try and wake you up to make sure he's gotten to you. Once you're out cold, I brew the tea, drop a piece of your hair in it, and drink it down. Then I'm in your dream with you. Pretty simple," he said.
Kate scrunched up her face. She snuggled down into her nest of blankets on the couch, and Sam made a point of not looking at her. She grinned.
Dean shut off the lights and patted the spot on the bed next to him. "C'mere," he said, and held a flask out to her. Dropping down beside him, Kate shook the flask. It was almost full. She unscrewed the cap and took a pull of whiskey, making a face. Sam lay back on his bed in the dark, arms behind his head.
Kate kept taking hits of the liquor, eventually feeling the familiar heaviness and warmth coming into her limbs. Sinking a little farther into the bed, she slowly took a few more gulps of the drink. After a few minutes, she lay all the way down, and Dean took the flask from her. It was significantly lighter than it had been.
Dean looked down at the flushed woman sprawled next to him. Her eyes were closed, but every few minutes they'd open and glance blearily around, watching. He eased a hand under her head, sliding down to where her skull met her neck. Using his index and middle fingers, he rubbed circles there, circling over the tendons. A few minutes later, she let out a long sigh, her body finally losing the last of its tension.
Dean glanced over at Sam, and from the steady rise and fall of his chest, Dean knew his brother was asleep. He settled back against the cheap headboard to wait. The next time he opened his eyes, it was light out. He looked down at Kate in a panic- she was still; he couldn't see her chest rise or fall. He pressed his fingers to her pulse point and was relieved to feel her heart slowly beating on.
"Sammy," he called, jolting his brother awake. "She's out, but I don't know for how long."
Dean ran the sink as hot as he could, dumping the packet into the bottom of the insulated paper cup. He let it sit for a second while he pulled a long hair out of the top of Kate's head. Dean strapped a sharpened wooden stake to his ankle, the point down in his boot. Sam watched, his face serious, as Dean sat on the edge of the bed and downed the bitter yellow brew.
When he opened his eyes, he was looking at a small white house set back from the road. It was cold, and the stars were brilliant overhead. There were thick woods at the back of the yard, and a cornfield across the street. Dean checked to make sure his knives and the stake were in their proper locations. He moved towards the sagging grey porch when he saw the bed of Kate's truck sticking out from behind the house.
Dean headed around back, and quietly tried the door. It was unlocked. He let his eyes adjust, and quietly padded into the house, looking for Kate. There was a plate of untouched food sitting on a scarred wooden table. Kate's familiar green backpack leaned against a sagging sofa. Everything was clean, and everything was too still. Dean's hunter senses tingled. There was no background hum of the radiator, the fridge wasn't running, no dogs barked outside. The silence was oppressive. He moved into the back of the house, opening the door to a bathroom and them a makeshift office before cracking the last door on the hall. Kate glanced at him. She was standing at the end of a bed, her shoulders hunched. Dean eased into the room and glanced at the bed.
Kate was also in the bed. Looking closer, Dean saw this Kate was a little younger, her hair lighter and a bit shorter. She was curled on her side like usual. He glanced back at his Kate, the brave woman who had been fighting alongside him for months. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"I tried waking her up. It's like we're ghosts here" she murmured. "This is like a fucked up version of The Christmas Carol.
Dean squeezed her. "I'm jealous if your worst memory is sleeping," he joked. He heard tires crunch on the gravel driveway outside, and headlights momentarily shined through the window. The back door opened, and heavy footsteps came towards the bedroom. Kate turned towards her former self. Dean looked through the doorway and saw a man dropping his backpack in the kitchen. The man glanced at the food on the table, ran his hand over his close-cropped hair, and stomped towards the bedroom. He reeked of alcohol, Dean could smell it from a distance.
The man bumped into the doorframe and stumbled against the bed. He snatched Kate by her arm and drug her over the edge of the bed onto the floor. "I thought you were coming to the bar! The boys wanted to see you!"
Young Kate was scrambling to get herself upright, blinking up at the man. "Jake, I texted you and called you to let you know I didn't feel like coming."
The man, this Jake, ignored her. "You knew I told them you would be there! They like you."
"They like to pick on me," she flung back, finally scooting up the wall to stand on her feet. She was about the same height as Jake, but he was stockier and looked to be in decent shape.
"Oh, and bitch you are, you can't handle jokes," he roared.
"The last time I went you and Rodriquez 'joked' about him coming to bed with us as a birthday present!"
Dean glanced back at his Kate; there were silent tears slowly streaking down her cheeks. He went to her and gripped her hand tight.
Jake crowded Young Kate back against the bed. "What, you too good for that? You think you're better because you're college educated?"
Young Kate slipped around him and headed down the hallway. Jake ran and grabbed her by the arm, jerking her back. Dean pulled the Kate he knew out to watch. Young Kate was trying to tug her arm away from Jake. "I want to go. We can talk about this when you aren't drunk."
"I'm fine!" Jake roared. "You don't get to tell me what to do!" he kept yelling at the woman in front of him. Young Kate's eyes were glassy. Dean guessed she was used to scenes like this.
The room faded away, and for a second Dean and Kate were in darkness. "Dean?" she whispered, her voice thin. In the darkness, Dean wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly they were back in the small living room, but it was daylight. Young Kate was in jeans and tshirt, standing at the stove. Jake was on the couch watching TV.
"Do you think we could go for a walk after dinner?" Young Kate asked.
"Show's on," Jake grunted at her. Dean noticed he had dogtags hanging around his neck and olive green combat boots laced tight to his feet. Dean scowled to himself.
A few minutes later Young Kate carried two plates of what looked like stroganoff into the living room. Jake took his plate, and Kate plopped down beside him, leaning against his arm.
Jake shook her off. "I'm trying to eat."
Young Kate sighed and moved down to the other end of the couch. "Could we talk, please?" she asked, muting the commercials. He glared at her and snatched the remote from her hand. "You realize no other man would put up with your crap, right?"
Once again everything went black for Kate and Dean, and they waited. They were back in the sad little house. It was night, and Kate was bent over books and papers at the little table. Jake walked through with a beer. "I'm really stressed about this" Young Kate told him, rubbing her eyes. "And you know about the stuff that is going on with my mom."
Jake scoffed, "Babe, I care about you, but your problems aren't that bad. You're just in school." He walked back out, the room going dark once more.
Dean was wondering how much more of this the Sandman was going to make them watch. He was seething in anger. He had fought gods and demons and angels and vengeful spirits, but he could never understand the depths of depravity and abuse that one human could heap on another. He pulled Kate into himself as they found themselves back in the bedroom. Kate tensed, and backed up against him, moving like she wanted to stand behind him. He let her, the hair on the back of his neck pricking to attention.
Young Kate was in bed again, her wide eyes staring out the window into the night as she lay curled on her side.
Jake came in the room and got into the empty side of the bed. He lay on his side, facing Young Kate. He moved forward and pulled her into his arms. Dean watched as his arm moved under the covers, coming around to squeeze Young Kate's breasts. She sighed. "Not tonight, please. It doesn't seem right."
Fuck yeah it's not right fumed Dean.
"I only get to see you on the weekends; I've been waiting…" Jake's voice trailed off as he kept kneading under the covers. Young Kate sighed.
"Okay," she murmured. She sat up and peeled off her ratty tshirt, soft from hundreds of washings. Still under the covers, she shucked off her boxers and dropped them over the side of the bed. She lay back.
Jake, ready to go rolled over her. Dean turned his face to the wall. He heard Kate hiss out a breath, and glanced over. Her face was turned to the door, hands up by her face. Her jaw was set in the way that Dean knew meant she was either hurting or angry. He turned back to his Kate; his Kate who had already lived through this once. She was sitting on the floor, knees drawn tight to her face, sobbing quietly. Dean crouched next to her, reaching out a hand. She scooted away, presenting him with her shaking back. Dean felt more powerless than he had since hell.
Out of his peripheral vision, Dean saw Young Kate's feet pad to the bathroom. The door snicked shut. Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees. Dean stood up, alert. The ghost of a woman clad in a dirty white nightgown was looking down at Jake. The ghost had a black eye and defined finger marks around her throat; a macabre necklace. The apparition grabbed Jake off the bed and threw him on the floor. As he scrambled back, screaming, the ghost kicked him in the chin, knocking out at least one tooth.
Young Kate threw open the bathroom door and froze when she saw the ghost whaling on Jake. The specter never even glanced her way. She took a step forward, and the ghost woman hissed at her. Jake was sprawled, unmoving, on the floor.
Kate grabbed her backpack and tore out the door.
The world went black. This time, a shimmering man, glowing faintly, stood in front of Kate. "Are you ready to end the dream?" He asked, his voice echoing faintly.
"No. Do I have to watch it until it is no longer awful?" Kate asked.
Dean bent down as though to tie his boot laces. The Sandman never looked at him. Dean whipped up with the stake clenched tightly in his fist, jamming it hard under his breastbone. The Sandman flickered for a moment. "Screw you, Sandy" Dean mumbled, twisting the stake hard. The Sandman disintegrated, a small pile of dirt remaining where he was standing.
Dean opened his eyes to see the water-stained motel room ceiling. He sat up, joints creaking.
"Dean!" shouted Sam, capturing him in a hug.
Dean hugged his brother back. "Hey, Sammy. How long was I gone?"
"Over a day. I was getting worried. Did you get the Sandman?"
"Yeah, I ganked him."
"Well…" Sam trailed off questioningly.
"Well what?" asked Dean, standing up to get a drink. His mouth was some kind of dry.
"What was her worst memory?"
Dean glanced at Kate. She had curled up on her side, so he knew she was truly sleeping this time. He decided he shouldn't keep this from Sam. Running his hand over Kate's tangled hair, he said quietly, "Being abused by her boyfriend. And then watching him die at the hands of a vengeful spirit."
Sam looked disgusted. "Well, that does explain a lot."
When Kate woke up about an hour later, Sam and Dean had brought food back to the room. She ate quickly, and then they packed up and slid into the Impala.
They drove through the night and the next day, pausing so Sam and Dean could take turns at the wheel. Dean didn't tap along on the steering wheel, and Sam didn't complain about the music. They both frequently checked on Kate in the rear-view, sitting in self-contained silence in the backseat. About twenty two hours after leaving Savannah, they pulled into the bunker. Kate grabbed her bag and headed into her room, not making eye contact with Dean.
"Give her some space, man," Sammy counselled when he moved to follow her. How would you feel if she spent a day watching you at your most vulnerable?"
Dean managed to wait a couple hours. He kept seeing Kate's face, both from her memories and her intense shame of him seeing that. Finally, he knocked on the door of her room. When she didn't answer, he barged in anyway. She was sitting at her desk, a blank word document open on her laptop. Dean rolled her desk chair over to face the bed, and sat down in front of her.
"I don't want to talk about it, Dean. I don't want to acknowledge that you know," she said. She sounded defeated.
He took one of her hands in both of his. "Then listen up, Cupcake, because I'm going to talk. That man, Jake, he never deserved you. You didn't do anything wrong. You are so smart and strong. You matter. And you still haven't given up! Please don't lose that. And I, well, dammit Kate, I want to do what I can. I've had so much help. From Sam, from Ellen and Jo and Cas and Bobby and even Crowley. Sam and Cas, they're my family. You're family now too. You have to ask for help when you need it. All you have to do it ask!"
Kate smiled at him sadly. "That's the most I've ever heard you say at once. I'm dealing, Dean."
"Bullshit." She blinked at him. "You don't sleep. You don't open up to me or Sam. You haven't even really moved in." He looked around her unadorned room.
"I've never done that. Opened up, I mean. Nobody listened."
Dean pulled her out of the chair and set her in his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured into her hair, "I'll listen." Slowly, she relaxed against him.