2. What was it about?

"So, where do we start?" Dean asked, chewing on his taco.

"First you two finish your breakfast and then we go interrogate the neighbors." John said as he packed his bag. When he was finished he got up and quickly exited the room. "Meet me by the cars in five minutes." He called back. "Yes sir!" both of his sons answered at the same time.

As soon as their father was gone, Dean turned back to Sam. "So Sammy, I heard you had a nightmare last night, right?"

"Did Dad tell you this?" Sam looked scandalized and more than a little embarrassed, which made Dean's smirk go even wider.

"Relax, Geek boy. I heard you two talk about it. Now tell me, is it anything to worry about?" Sam shrugged at that.

"No, I don't think so. Just a nightmare."

"But what was it about?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but frowned when he realized he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't remember. 'Yeah, what the hell was it about?' he wondered. Try as he might, he couldn't find any trace of his nightmare in his memory. Which was weird, because he always remembered his nightmares.

"I… I don't remember" he said finally, looking down at the ground.

"Yes you do" Dean said. "You're just afraid I'd find out what it was." The older brother grinned "It wasn't about clowns, was it?"

Sam shot Dean a dirty look "No, it wasn't about clowns."

"Ha! So you remember!"

"No Dean, I… I just know it wasn't about clowns, that's all. But I honestly don't remember."

Dean rolled his eyes "Yeah, right. Seriously Sam, what did you dream about? I promise I won't laugh, if that's what you're afraid of." He said, frowning when he saw Sam's head shoot up as he said "seriously".

"Why so serious?" Sam mumbled.

"What was that?"

"That's all I can remember. I remember a voice saying 'Why so serious?'"

"'Why so serious?' What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I…" Sam looks away, trying desperately to get a hold on something, anything that could help him remember. "I don't know."

Dean ran an exasperated hand through his short hair. "Come on Sammy, you've gotta do better than that."

"But I can't!" Sam practically yelled, "I can't remember!"

"You always remember!"

"Well, not this time."

Dean huffed and got up. "Fine, don't tell me, see if I care." He snapped as he went to get his bag.

Left alone, Sam slammed his fist down on the table. Dean was his brother and Sam loved him, but sometimes he was really infuriating.

But even though Dean's mood swings were a pain in the ass, they weren't the real reason why Sam was angry. The fact that he couldn't remember was annoying, but now that he remembered that single sentence made it even worse. It was like something you can touch but you can't hold. 'Why so serious?' The sentence echoed in his mind. What did it mean? Why did that voice say that? And why did Sam feel so scared when he heard it in his head?

He was startled out of his thoughts when his dad's voice resounded in the corridor "Boys! What the hell's taking you so long?"

Dean came back and threw Sam's bag at his brother, who caught it easily "Coming!" the eldest yelled, before raising his eyebrows at Sam in a way that meant "Better do what he wants". That simple gesture reassured Sam, because it was Dean's way to tell Sam things were okay between them.

Interrogating the neighbors happened to be exactly what Dean thought it would be: a complete waste of time. First they can't remember having ever heard about problem in the house, then the wife says she heard noises on the ceiling when she went there last week, but the husband says it was the kid playing upstairs and the wife says she's not so sure anymore. All in all, the Winchesters had heard them talk about the noises, then the kid, then the family, only to end up talking about their damn dog that barked in the middle of the night.

"I hate old people." Dean groaned as the trio walked back to the cars.

"Watch your mouth Dean," John said "You'll be one of them one day."

"If nobody strangles you to death before" Sam said, laughing.

"Ha ha, that was hilarious." Dean deadpanned, but he couldn't hide the smirk that crept on his face.

"Where to now?" Sam asked his dad, changing the subject before Dean said something John would yell at him for.

"Now we split up. Sam, I get you back at the motel and you search the Internet for any information you can get. Dean, you go to the church. According to his wife, that guy was a fervent Christian. I'll go talk to the wife again."

Dean sighed "Why do I get to go to the church? You know I hate churches."

"You hate hospitals too, doesn't keep you from landing there every two months."

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't find anything to beat his dad's come back, so instead he glared at his giggling brother. "Geez, are you two funny today." He said as he went back to his car.

Sam followed John to his truck, keeping his head down so his father and brother couldn't see him laughing.

"Dean!" John called, making Dean turn around to face him, "It's ten o'clock. Be back at the motel in 2 hours at most!"

"You got it!" Dean called back. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." He mumbled to himself as he got into the car. Man, he hated churches.

"You know, I could have gone to the church" Sam told his father during the ride.

"Me too. But I wanted Dean to go."

"Why?"

John smirked "Couldn't resist."

Sam laughed. Whoever said that their dad was the serious one had never actually stopped to look closely.

"You know, you're a hypocrite." The youngest Winchester said, "All these times you'd yell at us because of a little prank, but still you're making Dean go to the church just because you think it's funny? How is that different?" he asked, barely able not to laugh.

"It's different…" John started, not sure about what we was about to say. Then a smile crept on his lips "Because I'm your father. I have the right to make fun of you guys."

"Oh, really?" Sam laughed.

John chuckled. It wasn't often that he and Sam got along so well, and he enjoyed every bit of it. Still, he promised himself to by a pizza for diner so Dean wasn't too mad at him.

'So, let's sum it up. Dad makes me go to the church, takes me twenty freaking minutes. Then once I come here, the priest says he never noticed anything wrong about that guy and then tries to knock some faith into me. Then I have to take another twenty minutes ride so I can tell dad how useless it has all been. God I hate churches.'

Dean's thoughts were broken as he became aware of footsteps behind him. Someone was following him. 'Great, a mugger. Just what I needed to complete this fucked up day.'

He kept on walking, acting as if he didn't notice anything. But a heavy hand on his shoulder made him change his plans. Quickly drawing out his gun, he turned around and brought his arm up, pushing the man against the nearest wall and keeping him there with his arm across the man's chest.

"Why were you following me?" Dean asked, holding his gun in front of the man's face. The man just smirked, not the least bit impressed.

"I was looking forward to meet you Dean." He said. 'How the hell does he know my name?' Dean thought.

"Why?"

"Because I want to hurt you so your dad understands I mean business."

Dean laughed. "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that, huh? Cause last time I checked, you were alone and I was the one with the gun."

The man's smirk grew wider. "What makes you think I'm alone?"

Dean barely had time to consider the question before feeling something heavy hit the back of his head, and then everything went black.

TBC…

Cliffie here!

Please, tell me what you think!

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