Wasn't going to write about Dean's nightmare that he has after John and Jim wake him for a few seconds, but some wanted it so.
Writers block legit sucks. I spent hours trying different formats for the nightmare but they all seemed lame, but i finally think i did this one right..hopefully. And remember, this is Dean's NIGHTMARE
Dean felt cold, isolated, and alone. He resisted the urge to open his eyes as he felt the hard surface under him. He knew instantly that he was having a nightmare once again. He lay on the hard surface, his stomach toward the ground, his arms and legs flailed ever which way. He wished to be back home, where he was not a minute ago. Even a worried John and Jim was better than the pain and coldness Dean felt.
After a few minutes, he knew he could no longer lie there and do nothing. The coldness was now to the point where his fingers were getting numb. He brought in his arms and legs, slowly lifting himself to his feet. Once on his feet, he swayed, unstable. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing the dizziness to go away. He was having withdraws and after-pains from his last horror he woke to.
He opened his eyes after a few seconds, taking in the room around him. He was in an old school house is what it had seemed like, although without desks and other materials, it couldn't fit many people in it. There were small and stout tables stationed at either side of Dean, the door located behind him, small windows at each wall, and in front of him, a chalk board.
Dean turned to look at the window to his left, hesitantly moving toward it with small steps, brushing the musty cob webs out of the way with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked out the window and saw a few stout house-looking buildings no bigger than the room he occupied surrounding the school house. But he couldn't see farther than one building, due to fog lining the building. It had looked like a scene from some of the video games other children always ranted on about playing; cold, foggy, and somewhat a war zone.
He turned from the window and gave the room another once over and glanced down at his own body. His long wool sweater was covered in dust. He scowled. He began to beat the sweater softly, ridding the sweater of the dust. It was the sweater that Sam had used his money to buy him for his previous birthday. It was his favorite. He had almost all of the dust off, when he heard a raspy and familiar chuckle echo throughout the room.
Fear instantly engulfed Dean as he stared at his sweater, stopping his hand, knowing who the raspy laugh belonged to. He looked up, eyes wide and alert. He scanned the room around him until his eyes stopped on the chalk board. What had been a blank and useless chalk board was now the exact opposite. Written in white chalk, the board read "SAMMY'S MINE". Dean backed away from the chalk board, eyes wide, staring in horror at the words, and stopped when he hit the corner farthest away from the door.
Dean slid down the wall until he was sitting in the corner, wrapped his hands around his knees and buried his face into his knees. He began silently to pray, wanting to be woken. He had hated to admit, not only to others, but to himself, that he was terrified. After a few minutes of nothing, Dean lifted his fear stricken face and scanned the room once more, seeing nothing had changed and no one around.
He unwound his arms from his knees, placing his finger tips to the wooden floor, and slowly lifting himself with his fingers. He again gave the room a once over. Still, nothing had changed. He knew he had to do something. He was scared and needed to find an escape. He walked to the door slowly, reaching his hand out and slowly putting his hand on the door knob. He felt the handle, and yelped, pulling back his burning hand. The door knob had felt like it was on fire for hours.
Holding his hand, he backed away toward the chalk board. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing the fear in his eyes and mind away like his father taught him. Meditation was not always Dean's thing, but he had Sammy do it once or twice, successfully calming himself at the worst of times.
"Hello, Dean." He heard a raspy and familiar voice say. His eyes flew open, and he found himself looking at his worst nightmare - literally. He had seen the man not even 20 minutes before. The man he'd seen the night before, same overcoat, shirt, and same glowing eyes, was smiling at Dean with his glowing eyes. Dean hadn't known who the guy was still, although having an encounter with him before, but only knowing he was a demon of some sort. What made the man different was his glowing eyes. They weren't a usual demon's eyes. They glowed fiery yellow. And that was what scared Dean most.
Dean stared at the man and remembered their first encounter. It had taken place in a chamber like place. Dean was chained up against a metal pentagram. The man had told Dean that he was going to take his little brother away from Dean and Dean had responded, shouting at the man in anger at how the man said that his little brother would someday become the cause of the end of the world. Soon after, he had told Dean that one day, he would turn into a monster, and that was why he was chained up like a rabid animal.
Dean hated the man so much that he had ended up spitting in his face, seeing as he could take no physical action toward him. The man responded with a sneer and had unchained Dean. After he had unchained Dean, Dean was flung into the wall across the room, and stopped when he was backed against the wall. After, he felt a searing pain in the pit of his stomach, and felt his energy being drained from him. That was when Dean had awoken to his father and Jim shaking him and trying to get Dean to wake from his trance.
Dean was pulled out of his memory by the man's cruel laugh. "I see you can remember our last encounter?" he asked, smiling at the young boy. Dean turned his eyes back to the man's eyes and was awe struck at how the man had known that. He couldn't speak, still in shock. He just stared into the man's fiery yellow eyes, not able to look away.
He finally unlocked his eyes from the yellow eyes and looked down, clearing his throat. "What do you want?" Dean tried to sound vicious and ferocious but it came out in a whisper rather than an overpowering and determined voice. He wanted to kick himself in the ass for being a baby. The man laughed again, his eyes burning even more yellow and fiery as he laughed.
"Dean, you know what I want. Your little Sammy. He-" the man broke off mid-sentence, walking over to the chalk board and pointing at it. "-is mine." he said with a smile. Dean had another flash of the last time the man had sneered the words, as if determined to take Sam if it was the last thing he did. Dean was engulfed with anger at the memory. He hated the man for not only wanting to take away his little brother, but appearing in his nightmares, seemingly controlling them.
"Your not gonna take Sammy, you son of a bitch!" He yelled, anger overtaking him. But that made the man chuckle even more. Dean was seething with rage. He hated how the man was a smart ass. "What the hell is so funny? Huh?" he screamed. He didn't care if he was yelling that right at Jim and John at this point, not caring whether his dad heard the foul language that Dean used. Usually, Dean would have punishments for swearing. But he didn't care anymore.
The man stopped laughing, seeing how much anger the little boy had. He bent down to Dean's height so he and Dean were face to face, his yellow eyes boring into Dean. Dean was once again locked in his gaze, the fiery yellow eyes putting him in a trance. He grabbed Dean's biceps, squeezing until he could feel the pulse in Dean's blood stream beating. Dean whimpered in pain, but kept his anger filled eyes locked on the son of a bitch. "Sammy is mine, Dean. He's going to be the leader of the end of the world, and I intend to help him, whether you like it-" the man gripped Dean's arms so tight, that tears sprung in his eyes. "-or not."
The yellow eyed man released Dean, causing Dean to gasp in pain and relief. He stood up to his full height at smiled mockingly at Dean.
The man suddenly vanished. Dean was once again alone and terrified. He tried yelling out to the sick son of a bitch with the yellow eyes to come back and face Dean like a man, although Dean was glad the man was gone. But all that came out was a whimper. Dean couldn't accept that he was scared, so he straightened up and told himself to stop being a baby.
He took a few deep breathes, but before he could even think to open his eyes, he was flung at the wall again, exactly as he had been in his last encounter with the yellow eyed man. He opened his eyes but saw no one and nothing change.
A raspy laugh echo'd throughout the room again as before, and suddenly, Dean felt the same sharp pain, not in his stomach, but in his head. It was worse than a migrane. Dean tried to flail his arms but he was pinned there like a wild animal. He was helpless. As the searing pain withheld, after a few minutes, Dean stopped trying and his body, blood seething from his mouth, pinned to the wall, became lifeless and still.
