Nightmares Are Real

-4-

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Cheers EK.

Note: Yay! My first update in ages, and just a heads up. I've got a poll on my profile right now about which of my old (and some very, very old) stories should be wrapped up for anyone who is interested in throwing in their two cents, and I just want to give a big thank you to all the people who were reading my stories, reviewing them, etc. while I was on hiatus. Hope you enjoy the update!

Until he'd learned better, he had always tried to take the first bed. It only took him a few years to realize that no matter how fast he ran into the motel, through the door, into the bedroom and sprawled out on the first bed...he wouldn't be there for long.

Dean took the bed closest to the door, he always had.

It took Sam a few years to understand it, but he caught on. It was just another way that Dean tried to protect him. It was 'anything that wants you is gonna have to get through me.'

It felt ironic that the very first time he was sleeping alone (he may have been surrounded by three other boys, but he was alone) he had the bed closest to the door.

"This is your bed." Evan said. "Lights out is at eight, and we're up at six-thirty for breakfast. Make sure you make your bed first."

"Make the bed?" Sam was stunned. Had he made a bed in his life? He wasn't sure he knew how.

A boy on the bed across the room snorted.

"Don't bother with the stupid look." He warned, "Esther won't fall for it. Make the bed, or you'll get it, kid."

Get it? Sam wondered, what was he supposed to get? A spanking? He rolled his eyes, social services was brilliant. They'd taken him and Dean away from the father that hadn't ever as much as laid a hand on them and put him with crazy woman, and Dean...

Sam felt a pang of worry as he remembered once again; he had no idea where Dean was. Or what his new 'family' was like

He considered telling the kid he wouldn't be here long enough to make a bed, but didn't trust him.

"Shove it, Devin." Evan said with an authority that reminded Sam almost painfully of his brother. "Never made a bed, Sam?"

"No. My dad's not exactly Martha Stewart."

Micheal smiled grimly, "Well, you'll learn."

"Hi Sam." A red headed boy who waved halfheartedly from the other side of the room looked up at him. "I'm Martin."

Sam pegged Martin for being about six.

"Martin's pretty new too." Evan said dully. "He's a prison baby."

Sam's eyebrow's furrowed together. What?

Martin explained, not seeming to make much effort at being quiet about it. "He was born when his mom was in prison. She'll be there forever...she's a junkie."

"My dad shot my mom in the head." Devin said with a sort of fake bravado that made Sam a little ill. Why even pretend like that didn't bother you? "So he's in prison."

Everyone looked at him expectantly now, and he wished they hadn't shared because he didn't want to.

"My school made a mistake." He avoided the glances he felt on him. "They thought my dad was hurting us, so now I'm here. He'll sort it out soon though."

Devin laughed. "Yeah, right. So, where's your old lady?"

Sam felt his temper bristle. He was reasonably sure this boy was referring to him mom. Dean would have knocked him through the wall for daring to say such a thing.

"I don't know any." Sam said cooly. "Aside from Esther, and I think she's in the kitchen still if you're looking for her."

Devin laughed again, and Sam decided really quickly he didn't like him. "Yeah, yeah...Esther's gonna set you straight real fast, Sammy-boy."

Sam glared. "Don't call me that."

"Enough, Devin." Evan held up his hand. "Leave Sam alone. It's his first night here."

Evan looked at Sam. "Don't make trouble." Evan advised him, "That's about it."

Evan turned around then, said something to Martin that Sam didn't catch and he settled down on the bed. So, this was hell.

Sam was wishing again that Dean was with him. And he took back all the bad things he'd said about his dad. He really wanted his family back.

–

Dean realized two things just about at once. He wasn't hungry, and so no, he didn't want pizza, Chinese, or Thai food and this poor woman needed a friend, or at least a husband who wasn't cheating on her all over the Continental U.S.

Really! No one-lawyer or not-traveled the way her husband apparently did. Crazy bastard too...once he got over the anger he had directed toward her for being another obstacle to Sam...Well, she was hot. Another time, another place-a time and place where he didn't have to worry about what or who could be harming his brother and he'd be hitting on her with everything he had.

"I'm sorry about your phone." Samantha apologized after placing an order at the pizza place that she said was 'just absolutely amazing!' "I'll try talking to Tina-Marie about it, see if we can swing getting it back. I don't see how it hurts anything. There's nothing you can do with a cell phone that you can't do anyways."

Well, he'd give her that, the woman had logic. What the hell was the point of depriving him of his phone?

"Can I say something?" Samantha turned to look at him. "Please?"

Dean fought the urge to snort. Suddenly she was asking permission? So far she had said a whole lot of somethings. He shrugged, he couldn't exactly stop her, now could he?

"Right..." She made an uncomfortable sound in her throat. "You're so quiet, Dean, I just wanted to tell you that we can be friends...if you want. I know what it's like-"

"You have...no idea what this is like for me." Dean snapped. There was nothing he hated more than condescension like this. "You can't."

Samantha shrugged, looking unaffected by his outburst. Reaching behind her on a stand, she picked up a picture, and handed to him.

"My family." She said. "That's me and my brother with our parents."

Well, if they just weren't the perfect nuclear family. Where were the dog and the white picket fence?

"They died in a car accident when I was twelve. Drunk driver..." She put the picture back. "We didn't have any other family. My brother and I were put in foster care until we were of age."

Fantastic, a sob story. He kept watching the clock, and the minutes seemed to crawl by.

"I'm not hungry." Dean got up from the couch. He had made an effort, he tried to pretend like he could sit there and be...he didn't know what. He was done. He could sulk in the bedroom in peace, contemplate what exactly his plan was if Bobby didn't have anything concrete. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay." Samantha sighed. "Pizza will be in the fridge if you get hungry."

Yeah, whatever. He was supposed to eat? It was hard enough to open his mouth and make words come out in a normal manner. He didn't know how to deal in a situation like this.

What if this was just one of those things his dad couldn't fix? What if he never saw Sam again?

He didn't know what he'd do.

--

Sam waited a long time after 'lights out' and the house to become dead silent before he crept out of bed. The room was dark, and it struck him as a little bit odd that for a room with a six year old there was no night light. That was weird, right? Or maybe Dean was right, and he was a little babyish for needing one in their hotel room until he was nine.

God, he wished Dean was here with him. He knew he said that he wanted his brother to leave him alone, and treat him like an adult. He knew that he said he could take care of himself, and that he could handle whatever was thrown at him.

He was so, so wrong. He had no idea how to handle things without Dean.

Before going downstairs he leaned over the banister, and checked for any movement downstairs, but he didn't hear anything. So good, so far. Sam knew the first thing Dean would do was recon.

Sam jumped a little when he walked past the living room and saw the old man asleep in his chair. Did he move? He just hoped that he was alive. Sam shuddered, if anything could make an angry spirit, he figured it could come from being married to that nasty, crazy old woman.

He was turning into the kitchen when he heard a 'thunk!' sound. Shit! He thought, he'd been so sure everyone was asleep. On the other side of the counter, he found himself face to face with a white faced little girl. She seemed to turn ashen with a look of fear, and he figured he probably scared her half to death. He didn't even know there were girls here, it probably would have been a good idea just to come down to dinner to get a feel from the rest of the kids, instead of sitting in his room bemoaning his situation.

Sam raised a finger to his lips. "Shh." He whispered quietly, when she jumped backwards. He had scared her, not that he was surprised that she was scared in this house. The ratty, rickety old building almost looked like it should be filled with spirits.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He crouched down to her height, which just about had him kneeling. She was tiny...seven, maybe eight years old? "My name's Sam."

"Please don't tell." She whispered, on the edge of tears. "Please don't tell Esther."

"Shh." Sam shook his head, trying to stop her from crying. He got the impression they were dead if they got caught out here, and he didn't want to get on her black list yet. "I'm not telling anyone anything, okay? Don't cry, it's okay. What's your name?"

"Kirsten." She whimpered as Sam turned her away and directed her so that she was sitting against the kitchen island that gave them some cover from anyone who might walk into the kitchen.

As long as he crouched, no one would see them over that.

"Okay, Kirsten," Sam sighed, "Don't cry, okay. I won't tell. I swear."

She nodded her head, and Sam felt himself being a little mesmerized by the big shining blue eyes. He wondered what crappy thing got her exiled here with the rest of them.

"What were you doing?" He asked quietly.

She pointed at the cupboard. "I was hungry. Esther wouldn't let me have dinner because I forgot my homework, and Mrs. Adams called her and told her."

Sam felt a fresh new brimming of anger with these people, what the hell was that? She was a little girl and they weren't feeding her because she forgot her ? He didn't even want to think about what this woman would do to her brother if he was here. Maybe he wouldn't have had to worry about it; Dean would have killed her on the principle of treating the little girl like this.

"It's okay," Sam told her, "Okay, Kirsten?"

He dug through his pockets for his lock picking kit, and crept quietly over the the fridge. It only took a short moment of playing with the lock for it to fall open. He scanned the contents, searching for something simple when he came across some bread, bologna, and American cheese. That would suffice. On the counter he grabbed a couple napkins, and motioned to Kirsten to stay where she was.

Quickly, he complied them, handing one to her and then carefully putting the supplies back where he found them. He locked it back up, making sure that the lock was facing out the way it was before.

Sam hurried back to sit next to her, and she was munching almost half way through her sandwich. As an afterthought, he realized he probably should have made her two.

She swallowed the bite she was working on, and Sam set his sandwich aside. He wasn't especially hungry anyways. There was a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away.

"Thanks Sam." She whispered, and then paused, "I was so afraid you were someone else, Esther would have been really angry if she caught me again."

"Again?" Sam asked, pushing the sandwich closer to her. "I'm not hungry, you can have it."

"Thanks," Kirsten nodded her head, "I forgot to brush my teeth, and so I didn't get to eat anything all day for punishment. Esther reminded me that we don't ever do that, and I was bad to make her look so bad...Devin heard me sneaking out of bed and told on me."

Sam decided he was probably going to end up on her black list a hell of a lot quicker than he expected. He and Devin were going to have a heart to heart tomorrow about how he didn't screw around with little kids. What was he? The snitch? Man, he could only hope he could give it to him half as good as Dean would.

Kirsten wiped her hands off on her pants. "That was really neat, how'd you learn how to do that?"

Sam saw that she pointing at the lock, chewing her sandwich in between the conversation.

"Oh," He shrugged, still trying to process it all. "My brother taught me."

"I have a sister." Kirsten told him, and then she suddenly stopped. "Don't laugh at me, Sam."

He nodded his head, "I promise." He didn't care how silly it was, he wouldn't laugh. There were some things that no matter how silly they seemed to one person were sacred to another.

"Natalie promised me I won't have to stay here forever. She's going to come and get me." Kirsten glanced up at him; he assumed it was to make sure he wasn't laughing at her.

No, he definitely wasn't laughing. He got it; he was waiting, and hoping to god for the same thing.

"Natalie's my big sister." Kirsten added, "She'll take care of me, she's a grown up."

"Maybe we'll get to leave at the same time." Sam told her, "I'll introduce you to my brother. I bet you could talk him into teaching you to pick a lock, too."

She slipped him the first smile he'd seen since the counselor's office. "Or maybe you could teach me."

"Yeah." Sam nodded his head. "I could teach you too."

"We should go." She whispered. "Esther gets up in the middle of the night every night for a treat and a…hot toddie?" Kirsten shrugged, "Whatever that is."

"Right." Sam agreed, wishing he'd had the chance to dig around for some salt. He'd have to wait and do that tomorrow night.

"I'm glad you're here Sam." Kirsten whispered, taking the plates and crushing them far into the bottom of the garbage, then proceeding to cover it up with other garbage. "Yuck." She muttered under her breath.

"You're nice." She said, "You're the first really nice person here-well, except for Martin…"

"What about Evan ?" Sam asked, "Isn't he decent?"

She stiffened at the mention of his name. "Evan 's been here a long time."

Sam didn't ask any more questions, and led her up the stairs. Kirsten had given him a lot to think about. He had figured that there could be a potential ally in Evan , but it looked like he wasn't ready to trust much of anyone yet. Well, aside from Kirsten. He hadn't spent long with her, but he knew enough about his gut to know he should trust his instincts, and every single one of his was telling him he could trust her.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she didn't say anything, only turned in the opposite direction. He stayed there, waiting for her door to click in place, and still didn't move. What was he supposed to do? He was supposed to be escaping, he was supposed to be searching for any weapons he could. He hadn't done anything. All he had was a fresh new wave of confusion, and more problems than he he could figure how to unravel right now.

He'd give anything for some advice from Dean.

Down the hall he heard a break in some one's snoring, and it had him back on track. He'd re-evaluate what he was supposed to do in the morning. If he could get to a phone and talk to Uncle Bobby, it would be so much easier.

I'm glad you're here, Sam

One thing was for sure though. He wasn't running away tonight. He was going to get out, he was going to get his family back, and he was going to…well, he didn't know what he was going to do for Kirsten, but he wasn't going to disappear in the night on her.

Dean, he crawled into bed thinking of what Dean would want him to do, Dean would have an idea…