.-.-.-.A Killer's Dream.-.-.-.
Summary:
Dean has been having some pretty weird dreams lately - he seems to be playing the murderer in a sick game that is life and death. So now he and Sam have to figure things out before things take a turn for the worse for Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and the boys aren't mine... unfortunately.
A/N: Thank you all again for your awesome encouragement and for reading! I'm keeping the chapters short as you can see, but I'm hoping you won't hold it agianst me. Anyway - thank you all!
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4. Sometimes it's easier to disbelieve
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Tense and reluctant, Dean groaned in frustration when his legs refused to support him and he was forced to let Sam lead him towards the beds. But the youngest didn't sit him on the upturned mess that was Dean's, instead he gave Dean his bed whilst he stood – almost hesitant to let go of Dean, probably for fear he would try and take another nose dive, 'cause God only knows that was always fun.
He seemed to wait a moment, hovering, hands twitching at his side and part of Dean wanted to tease his brother by making a sudden lurch forward. But the better half of him knew that one, doing so would be incredibly cruel even if it incredibly funny, and two, he would probably fall all the way in the state he was in and smack his forehead off the ground as his brother failed to catch him. And well, he really didn't want to add 'pain in the ass concussion' to the never ending list of things that were bringing him down - so yeah, no mock lurching.
"How you feeling?" Sam questioned, voice strained. It wasn't that he was being ignorant of the fact that obviously Dean was feeling like complete and utter crap, it was more his way of trying to gauge how coherent his brother was going to be. And Dean couldn't blame him for that, so far he'd been acting as coherent as an eight year old trying to give a speech about global warming to an auditorium filled with people when they weren't even sure just what the hell it was in the first place, let alone why it affected them. So in reply, Dean just shrugged half-heartedly and swallowed the 'how do you think I feel?' so that it only existed in his mind.
Confused. Freaking confused as hell. That's how he felt. He felt like a freaking mental case who would be better suited in a straight jacket rather than a leather one. And he didn't know how he was supposed to explain that to Sam.
"You wanna talk about it?" His brother brought himself to his knees now, in an attempt to make eye contact with Dean and at first, Dean didn't want him to – afraid that he would see something inside that Dean didn't want him to… afraid that he would see a killer. But he pushed back the fear and locked eyes with Sam, praying for him to believe him, pleading silently for his little brother to just have a little faith.
"Something happened to that girl Sam. I saw it." I dreamt it… I dreamt it like you dreamt of Jessica and all those others. It was real… and I really need you to believe me. Though his thoughts went unheard, he was sure that the desperation behind them would show through on his features, from the pleading in his eyes to the tightening of his jaw.
"Yeah Dean, I got that. But then you also just told me that you killed her."
So Sam had him on that one. He had just told him he was the murderer, but to be honest, until they figured this thing out, he definitely wasn't ruling it out. Screw innocent until proven guilty… that was too dangerous. "There's no evidence that I didn't."
"There's no evidence that you did!" And that made Dean roll his eyes. Why was Sam so determined to believe that Dean wasn't a killer when every single thing pointed towards him being one? Why was he so blind?
"So the missing knife means nothing to you?" It came out more of a challenge then he had meant it to, but Sam accepted it all the same, refusing to back down.
"No actually, it doesn't. I could care less about your freaking missing knife. You probably just left it in the Impala or God forbid, maybe you lost it somewhere along the road – maybe you left it back in Stillwater. So one missing knife? No, it doesn't make you a killer."
"Bitch," he mumbled under his breath, but his heart wasn't truly in it, his mind still on the girl and what all of it meant. But maybe Sam had a point. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he clung to that point for just a little while – no need to hand out the death sentences just yet, right? If Sam could believe that, then Dean could probably fool himself into believing it too – even if only for tonight.
And Sam seemed to cling to the shining ray of hope that lingered in the air too, using it to try and get Dean to stay on that side of the line and away from the 'I killer her' speech. If it meant he didn't have to repeat himself, he'd take it. "Whatever, Jerk." He rolled his eyes as he spoke and Dean could tell it was a reluctant response but also a desperate one, his brother's twitch of the mouth showing just how eager he was to get back to some relative normality. Whatever normal was for them.
"Believe me Sam, I know how this sounds. Hell, I've been there before remember? But I trusted you and your whacked out visions, even if I didn't want to… I still did. So please, I just need you to trust me on this."
"It's not that I don't trust you Dean. It's just…" Dean could see the cogs working in Sam's brain as he drew in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to word what he was thinking. He didn't have to though, Dean already knew what he was thinking – could already see the implication of it in those hazel eyes. "Why would you suddenly develop visions? I'm the freak remember."
"Dude, we grew up hunting evil – I think we've both earned the label of freak by now, don't you?" Leaning forward, he held his head in his hands as he spoke, allowing his eyes to close for a brief moment – the darkness feeling like a welcomed sight for once. "I don't know why it's happening man, but it is. Maybe it's the deal… maybe there's some sort of clause in there – I don't know. Just, please Sam…"
And there was that weary sigh that meant Sam had given up, finally relenting as he muttered a very low and aggravated 'fine' under his breath and Dean snapped his head up in time to see his brother pushing himself up to pace the floor just in front of Dean, mindful of the weapons still sitting on the carpet. "So what do you want me to do?"
"You're the research boy – so research." He tried for a smile but didn't quite make it, his chest still aching and body tingling as he watched Sam pause in his pacing.
Instead of replying though, the youngest moved towards the window and peeled back the curtain an inch or so – just in time for Dean to catch a glimpse of what had attracted his brother's attention as red and blue lights went flying by, the drone of sirens following them before disappearing once again.
"I have a better idea," he murmured under his breath before turning to face Dean, letting the curtain fall back into place to once again shield them from the outside world. "Get your suit on."
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