Darkness heavy on his eyes, smell of blood and wet leaves thick in his nostrils. The screams were piercing even though his hands were clamped tightly over his ears. He had to open his eyes, had to help Dean, but he couldn't-

"Sam, SAM!" His mom's voice finally penetrated the darkness and Sam sat up so quickly he nearly knocked her off of his bed. She hung onto his arms and righted herself, "Sam, honey! It's over, it's okay!" She hugged him tightly and he gasped against her shoulder, allowing himself to be held and rocked.

Once his shaking had subsided, she pulled back to look into his face. "Sam, honey," she pushed his hair back and stroked his cheek, "It's getting worse. I really think you need to see someone about these nightmares."

"Mom, no. I told you, I'm already talking to someone at school about them." He hadn't bothered to tell her that this someone wasn't exactly a counselor.

She sighed, "All right, hon, but if I don't see an improvement soon I'm going to set you up with a psychologist. Sam-" her tone sharpened as he opened his mouth to protest. "You're young and high school is hard enough for the kids that manage to sleep through the night. I can't even imagine how hard it is to be plagued by these nightmares of yours. Baby," soft again, "you know how your dad and I feel. You're a gift and we're always going to do the best we can to protect you." She smiled wryly, "Even from nightmares."

"Mom, c'mon-" he pushed at her. He hated when she got all mushy on him.

She grinned and stood, mussing his hair. "Think you can go back to sleep?"

He looked at the clock, 4:18am. Nice. "I hope so."

"Thanks, Mom," softly spoken as she was closing the door behind herself.

She paused, "You're welcome, hon."

---

School that day was crap, as usual. He couldn't wait for the clock to hit three. He was supposed to hang out with Dean, which was still strange, but cool. He wasn't sure why, but they got along surprisingly well- as long as Dean didn't subject Sam to that Metallica shit. Vice versa, Dean had no tolerance for any of the music Sam liked. Dean had pushed Sam on that a couple of times. He stopped when his last attempt to make Sam listen to Exodus caused Sam to jump out of the car while it was moving. Well, it hadn't been moving that fast and it wasn't like Sam didn't know how to take a fall. It had been worth it to see the look on Dean's face when he'd stopped the car in a panic and run back to check on Sam. More importantly, Dean finally agreed that when they were in the car there would be no music.

It had been almost a month since Sam approached Dean in the parking lot after school, but he was still having the nightmares. Dean didn't seem particularly worried about it, but really- who knew what Dean was thinking. For as simple as Dean pretended to be, Sam got the impression there was a lot going on beneath the surface.

Sam tended to think of himself as an individual, but now that he'd met Dean he had to re-think that. Because really, Sam was just like most of his friends. He dressed like them, talked like them and as much as he hated to admit it, probably thought like them. He didn't know anyone like Dean though. Dean had friends in just about every circle. Well, he had girlfriends in every circle. Most of the guys didn't care for him at all, but they left him alone. Sam had wondered about that until he saw Dean fight. Sam smirked to himself, if he'd been as pretty a guy as Dean he'd have learned to fight like that too.

Sam could tell Dean hated it, but he was awfully pretty. Fairer than Sam and freckled, his big green eyes were framed with the most ridiculous lashes. Any girl would be jealous. He also had a girl's mouth, which Sam already felt perfectly comfortable teasing him about.

Dean was a senior and Sam was a sophomore. It was strange when someone you'd known as one of the nameless shadows on the periphery of your existence became real to you. He tried not to, but he felt himself starting to look up to Dean. Someone who, if Sam had even noticed him before his dreams, he'd had nothing but scorn for. In Sam's book, no one cool wore leather jackets or had a buzz cut or- God forbid- wore Nuclear Assault t-shirts. The facts were, however, Dean was older and Dean was cooler.

Part of him hoped they'd be friends even after they figured out what Sam's dreams were about.

---

Dean was leaning against the Impala, making out with some girl.

Sam stopped far enough away that he didn't have to hear their smooching and cleared his throat obnoxiously.

Dean lifted one hand from the brunette's waist and held up a finger. Sam guffawed, walking forward to lean next to him on the car. Dean broke the kiss, frowning at Sam. He pasted on an angelic smile and turned back to his latest girl.

"Sorry Kat, I gotta give this kid a ride home today. I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"

She smiled sweetly and Sam had to give Dean credit, he did know how to pick 'em. This girl was gorgeous.

"All right, Dean. Bye, kid." She threw the last at Sam over her shoulder as she left.

He snorted, "Sorry, didn't mean to upset one of your harem."

Dean whacked him on the back of the head, "Behave, brat. Okay, let's see what my dad thinks of your... vision."

---

John was in his office when the boys arrived at the shop.

"Hey Dad, this is Sam."

John came around his desk and shook hands with his son's new friend. He studied the boy critically for a moment. He was taller than Dean and although Dean said he was fifteen, he looked about twelve. His clothes were at least three sizes too big, his shaggy brown hair curling wildly around his baby face. He was tan and looked athletic, Dean had said he was a skateboarder. With his over-sized hands and feet, he strongly reminded John of a puppy.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. Wow, looks like you're going to end up somewhere near seven feet tall. You get that from your dad?"

Sam turned bright red and smiled, "Who knows?" When they just looked at him blankly, Sam elaborated. "Oh, um- I was adopted."

"Ahh."

"Yeah, someone left me on my parent's doorstep with just a note telling them my name."

John patted Sam awkwardly on the shoulder, "Sorry to hear that, son."

Sam shrugged, "Nah, it's cool. My parents are great. I'm sure I'm better off with them than someone who didn't want me in the first place."

"I'm sure that's true," John shook his head. He couldn't imagine someone doing that to their baby. It didn't help that Sam shared his dead son's name, either. Time to change the subject. He turned and headed over to his mini-frigde, "You boys want something to drink? I've got Coke, water- sorry, no beer for you two. Make yourselves comfortable- from what Dean's told me, I think we may be here a while."

---

Dean watched his dad's interactions with Sam and was a bit surprised. John wasn't a bad father by any means, and Dean had never doubted his love, but with Sam he was almost like a stranger. He realized that he'd never really seen his dad interact with a "normal" kid. It had been he and his dad for as long as he could remember. Of course they'd met kids while they were hunting, but they hadn't been in one place long enough for Dean to see John around kids who weren't part of a job. They'd been in Texas for a couple of years now, but Dean rarely had his friends over. John hadn't forbidden it or anything, Dean just wasn't comfortable with the idea. He played a role when he was around his friends from school and had kept his house as a sort of sanctuary. It was the only place he felt comfortable letting his masks drop. Even with his girlfriends, he always went to their house.

Dean had brought Sam to meet his dad because he thought they should tell Sam the truth. He believed Sam was having visions of his death and if that wasn't considered their kind of thing, he wasn't sure what was. In spite of his poor taste in music and clothing, Sam wasn't a bad kid. Dean could tell he was sincere and felt they could trust him with at least part of the truth. Actually, Dean was rather fond of him. The jumping-out-of-the-car stunt had probably been the deciding factor. He hadn't seen it coming and really admired that kind of spirit. He'd asked John if he could open up to Sam, but his father'd wanted to meet Sam first.

Dean had been worried his father's normally brusque manner would rub Sam the wrong way. His dad was a former Marine and it showed in most things he did. Sam didn't strike him as amenable to the military mindset. The kid lacked self-discipline (when he wasn't skating). Sam hated school and was one of those obnoxiously smart kids who never did their homework, but always aced the tests (Dean was the opposite). He could care less about his appearance and had very little respect for his elders. So yeah, Dean had been a little worried about bringing the two of them together. However, it seemed his fears were unfounded.

John had toned it down a lot for Sam. He was being almost gentle with the kid. Hmmph.

"Sam, can you tell me- is the moon visible in your dream?"

Sam closed his eyes, brows drawn as he tried to recall what he'd seen. "I don't think so, but I'm not sure if that's because it's cloudy or what. The ground is wet, but I don't remember rain..."

"There are a lot of leaves on the ground, right?"

"Yeah and the trees are bare, so... winter probably."

"I think you're right." John looked at Dean, who nodded. "Sam, what time do your parents expect you home?"

"Well, they don't get home until six- why?"

"Would you like to have dinner with us? There's something I want you to look at, might help us figure out what you're seeing in your dream."

There was the smile, "Sure, I'll call my mom."

Dean looked at his Dad and wasn't surprised when he returned Sam's smile full force. Dean doubted there was a person alive who could resist those dimples.

---

John handed his journal over to Dean, "Show Sam anything you think may match what he's talking about. I'll call you down when dinner's ready. Sam, hamburgers okay with you?"

"Sounds good, thanks."

They settled side by side on Dean's bed.

"So, what is this?"

"It's a journal my dad put together. My family's really into folklore and urban legends. It's kind of like a hobby for us to study this stuff."

Sam quirked a brow, then lifted one bony shoulder, "Okay, that's cool." He frowned at the journal, "Is it... organized?"

Dean grinned, "Not exactly." He thumbed it open and paged through to the first humanoid creature in the book, "Does he look familiar?" He pointed at a crudely drawn Sasquatch.

Sam squinted, "I don't think so. What else you got?"

He carefully scrutinized every page Dean stopped on, but nothing seemed to match the monster in his dreams.

"Dammit!" Sam flung himself back on the bed, "What is this freakin' thing?"

Dean slapped him on the thigh, then turned to smirk at him over his shoulder. "Don't get too comfy there, you're not really the type I bring to bed."

Sam felt himself go red, "Oh, shut up!"

Dean grabbed his ankle and stood, pulling Sam off the bed to fall on his ass.

"Son of a-" Sam launched himself at Dean, taking him out at the knees. Dean was laughing at him and he hated that.

He wrestled Dean down, straddling him and grinning triumphantly. "Proud of yourself, huh?" Dammit, why was Dean still acting so superior?

"Ye-" Sam's response was cut short as Dean flipped him effortlessly.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"I hate you so much."

Dean laughed again, but helped him up. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go see if we can help my dad."

---

They met in the library the next day after school and pored through everything they could find on creepy monster mythology. After about an hour, Dean found himself studying Sam more than The Choking Doberman and Other "New" Urban Legends.

"So what's the deal, Sam? Why don't you have a girlfriend?" It had been bothering Dean for a while. Sam was a cute kid and it wasn't natural for a guy their age to be single, in Dean's opinion anyway. He smirked when his question caused Sam to blush furiously. This kid was too easy.

"Maybe I don't want a girlfriend, okay? Maybe there just isn't anyone I want to date. I'm not gonna just sleep with whoever." Dean eyed him skeptically and Sam huffed, "Sheesh, not everyone is a man-whore like you."

"Hey! I'm not a man-whore!"

Sam just looked at him.

"Well, maybe a little," he relented, "but I didn't say you had to be like me. Obviously that would be impossible, but you can work with what God gave you. C'mon, what's the problem?"

Now he was getting the full-force Sam glare, "I am not discussing this with you. Focus, Dean! We have more important things to worry about."

"You're gay!"

Sam blinked. He looked completely incredulous, like Dean'd just said the most retarded thing in the world and really, those were the kinds of looks Dean lived for. Then he shook his head, picked up a stack of books and carried them to the table farthest from Dean.

Dean laughed and turned back to his own stack of books. He wasn't sure how long he was reading before Sam thunked a book in front of him. He looked up to say something less than pleasant, but stopped short at Sam's expression. He was grinning from ear to ear and Dean's thoughts scattered.

"Hah! Got it!" He pointed at the half man, half tree thing on the page.

"A leszi?"

"Yeah, I really think that's it."

"It can't be, a leszi wouldn't attack someone- not like you described. No way."

"Dean, this is it! Look, it's a wood spirit right? It's tall and grotesque and-"

"Sam, they're not malicious-"

"Hey Sam! What's up?" They were interrupted by a stocky, pimply-faced kid in a Skinny Puppy t-shirt.

Sam jumped and looked guilty as hell. Dean didn't know what that was all about.

"Hey Mark, um- just studying." Dean looked at him expectantly. "This is my- tutor, Dean. Dean, my friend Mark."

Mark looked at Dean derisively, "Yeah, whatever. Hey, you skating tomorrow or what? We're starting to think you don't love us anymore."

While Dean was fuming and planning to run Mark's board over, Sam laughed and hit the guy on the back. "Yeah man, I'll be there. What time?"

"Cool. We're meeting at eleven." They shook hands, "See you there!"

Without glancing at Dean, Mark turned and disappeared into the rows of bookshelves.

Sam fidgeted for a bit before turning back to Dean.

"Nice friend you got there, Sam."

"Er, yeah. Sorry about that." He folded his lanky self into the chair next to Dean and slumped his shoulders.

"Hey, it's no big deal. What's wrong?"

"I don't know, just tired I guess."

"All right, well looks like we're done here. I'll take this and see what my dad thinks." He stood and started gathering up books. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Sure." Sam seemed off, but Dean didn't think he'd be able to make the kid talk and he had a hot date to get ready for.

"Have fun skating," he threw over his shoulder on his way out.

"Yeah, thanks. Later."