Hello again, Lovelies!

Thanks so much for all the alerts, they make my heart smile. I hope I'm doing Dean justice up to this point. In the parts where I have to wing it, I'm trying to make it so he still has his macho-man-tough-as-nails-never-talk-about-crap attitude, but is a little softer to Sam since Sam's a girl in this. In the show, any girl that's important to him he's still teased and flirted with, but he still treats them special, and the way I see it, that special treatment would be bottomless for his sister.

Anyway, I hope, more than anything, that y'all are enjoying it.

Please leave me your thoughts and love!

MD


She knew that there was something wrong. She could taste it on the tip of her tongue, like something sour and tangy and sharp. Like fear. Like death. Walking to her bedroom was a bad idea. There was something evil there, something that would break her to her very core. She couldn't go to the bedroom. Her legs carried her against her will until she was at her bedroom door.

Don't look. Don't touch the doorknob. Don't open it. Don't go inside. Stop, run away, leave. Flee. Go. Run!

The door creaked open like out of some cheesy horror film, but unlike those movies, this actually scared her. She was so frightened to break the silence, so scared that there was something lurking in wait, wanting to pounce on her. Wanting to bite, rip, cut, hurt, kill. Her bedroom was a bad idea. Her bedroom was an evil place.

Her hands shook as she pushed the door open and walked without a sound to her bed and laid down on it, her eyes closing of their own accord. Her stomach felt like it was falling, and her hands were sweaty. She was almost hyperventilating. Away, away, she needed to get away. She needed to get somewhere away from here, somewhere safe.

There was something dripping on her forehead. It was wet and warm, and she knew what it was, though she couldn't put a name to it. The name simply ran away from her. She knew. She didn't know what it was called, but she knew. It was thick and hot and boiled within her own skin, and it was the last thing she wanted to see. But she'd known this would happen. Hadn't she always known it would end like this?

Another drip and her brow furrowed. She opened her eyes and tried to see past the horror on the ceiling. Tried to look past the evil she'd known was in here and pretend all she saw nothing. Her eyes hyper-focused instead.

Roger. Her Roger. Her darling, sweet, adorable, observant Roger. His black hair looked like ink against his pale skin. No… not pale. White. His skin was white, there was no color left. Except on his stomach. Blood oozed and seeped and crawled and dripped out from a wound in his stomach that she wanted to vomit just from looking at. Black, white, and red stained her ceiling like a festering wound. He was pinned. He was dead. He was bleeding. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead, death, dead.

"No. NO!" her voice sounded unnatural. Shrill and full of static, like she was talking with a bad connection. Weights chained her wrists and ankles down. She could do nothing but lie on the bed and stare at Roger. Her eyes wouldn't shut at all. She couldn't even blink.

"ROGER! NO!" She wailed, but it was no use. He couldn't hear a single thing she was saying to him. Run. She wanted to run. Wanted to flee this nightmare. Nowhere to run. Escape. Nowhere to hide. Leave. Nowhere to go.

Trapped. Roger. Death. Trapped.

Blood from his stomach curled out in tendrils and passed over his skin to the ceiling his corpse was resting on. She watched in horror as the coils laced together and wove with one another until above her head were three words, spelled out in disgustingly elegant script.

'Coming for you.'

She screamed as fire erupted from his body and consumed the ceiling. It ate greedily, sucking up happy memories she had stored in this place until it had burned them all to ash. The roar of the fire burned this image into her brain. It was seared permanently on the front of her mind. She would never forget this, for as long as she lived.

Deep laughter came at her from behind the fire, evil and heartless. It chilled her skin like ice even as the fire burned her life away. She screamed and cried and struggled and begged for mercy. This couldn't be real. She couldn't be going through this. This wasn't real. Not real. Scary. Death. Roger. Fake. Run.

RUN!


Samantha snapped her eyes open, and shot up in her seat, panting and looking around wildly. Dean jumped at her sudden movement and shot a surprised and worried look over to her. She looked up, and though it had been completely irrational, she'd been terrified there was some sign that her dream had been true. Of course, the roof of the Impala was clean of any burns or blood, and she settled back against the seat, groaning.

"The hell was that all about?" Dean growled. Sam pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, already feeling the onset of another headache.

"Your seats are uncomfortable as shit, that's what the hell this is all about. I was so damn sore I woke myself out of a dream just to switch positions." Dean glared at her and turned back to the road. She was lying through her teeth and hoped to God the insult to his car drew his attention away from it. He was freakishly good at catching her in a lie, and Sam knew that when she was trying to fight off an impending headache-turned-possible-migraine she was going to be even worse at it than normal. But even if he called her out on her shit, she wasn't about to open up to him about that dream. She wasn't a child who went crying to her brother at every scary thing anymore. She wasn't going to cry like a baby, no matter how much he poked and prodded. She had her secrets too, dammit. Her nightmares were none of his business. Her freakishly vivid nightmares were no one's business.

"Hey. You watch your mouth or I will leave your ass on the side of the road. You can walk the rest of the way to Jericho. My baby's sensitive." Sam just rolled her eyes. At least her ploy had worked. She reached for her bag on the back seat and rummaged through the side pocket on the right for the bottle of medicine she'd gotten refilled just last week. She opened the bottle and snatched two small pills before putting the cap on and tossing her meds back in the pocket. She sat back down on the seat and popped the pills in her mouth and swallowed them dry.

It was then that she noticed that the sky had lightened a good deal since they'd set out. She looked down at her watch on her left wrist. 5:37 AM. She'd been asleep for two-and-a-half-hours.

"Whatever Dean, just pull over soon. I crave sustenance, and if I don't get something in my stomach within an hour, I'm gonna be puking all over the place." Dean paled and pressed down on the gas a little harder, seriously pushing the speed limit.

"What? Why?" Sam shrugged.

"The medicine I just took is pretty heavy stuff, and if I have an empty stomach after an hour I've taken it, then I get nauseous." Dean shook his head.

"What medicine? Why do you have that kind of medication? Is something wrong, Sammy? Are you okay? You aren't… sick, are you?" Sam had to smile a little at the sudden barrage of questions.

"Which one do I answer first?"

"Uh…" Sam's smile grew.

"Right. Stuff for migraines, because I've been getting chronic migraines lately, no, nothing I can't handle, yes, as long as I get food soon, and no, but I will be in about an hour unless you stop somewhere." Dean looked lost for a moment but then just nodded and paid closer attention to the signs on the side of the road. There was a gas station about two miles up that he said he was going to stop at. She could grab something there, and he needed gas anyways.

When Dean pulled up next to a pump and turned off the car, Sam jumped out, happy to stretch her cramped muscles. When she started walking to the store, Dean stood in front of her, directly blocking her way.

"Um, rude much? Do you want me to give your car a new paint job or not?" Dean rolled his eyes and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Sam, you can't use your credit cards in there. I know you've been gone for a while but –"

"Relax, Dean. I've got more than enough cash for a convenience store breakfast. Going to college doesn't mean I've forgotten everything." Sam brushed past him easily and walked in, scrunching her nose at the stale smell. Ah, well. Beggars can't be choosers.

She ended up buying a thing of bottled water, a couple of fruit bars, a pack of gum, and a brand of chips she hadn't had since she was a little girl. She paid with cash and walked back out to the car where Dean had the gas filling up his almost empty tank. Sam walked over to where Dean was standing and patted the Impala gently. He looked at her confused but she just smiled sadly at his car.

"You poor girl. Is big, bad Dean sticking things in uncomfortable places again?" Her brother chuckled and wore his cocky grin Sam had come to think of as his trademark. He pulled the nozzle out of his car and put it back in the pump and looked at Sam, still smiling, before shaking his head and walking in to pay. Sam went back to the passenger side and opened the door, sitting down on the seat facing out so her feet were still on the ground. She set her food down on the floor, next to an old-looking shoe box that was ripping in places, and held together with duct tape in others.

Her eyes widened and a huge grin broke out on her face. Dean's music. His music. His tapes. Metallica, Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Led Zeppelin… all the best of classic rock. It was a common love between the two siblings, and Sam squealed with joy, her food forgotten as she dove for the box. She snooped through for her favorite tape, and found it all the way at the bottom, ripping it out.

Oh yes, she had missed this. Sam had no problem admitting that. She was shameless about her love for classic rock; her father had told her that she was worse than Dean, but she figured they were about even in their addiction. No one at college had understood and appreciated the timeless music quite like Sam had. Most had felt a curious inclination towards a few songs that they didn't even know by name, and Sam had felt so let down when she realized that techno and earthy "feel good" music was what everyone wanted to listen to nowadays. Personally, Sam couldn't stand the shit and had no problem bitching at anyone when they asked her to turn her Stones down. Oh yes, she had definitely missed Dean's stash of music.

The tape label was barely hanging on, and the text was smeared so much that it was a wonder Sam recognized it for what it was, but that didn't matter. AC/DC. Hell yeah. Her favorite band. And Dean had chosen especially good songs to put on here. Throwing a quick glance over at the ignition Sam did a mental happy dance. Dean had left the keys behind.

He could bitch and moan all he wanted about her leaving his car to idle when he wasn't around. Forget him and his bullshit, she wanted some goddamned AC/DC.

Sam quickly popped the tape in after shutting her door, and turned the keys. The car roared to life like it had back at Stanford, and she immediately pushed rewind. She was going to listen to the whole tape, from the very beginning, and she was going to blast it as loud as her ears could take, consideration for people around her be damned. Everyone should enjoy the musical majesty that is AC/DC.

It only took a few moments for the tape to click to a stop, and Sam mashed the play button probably harder than she should have, but for these few moments she was just so… happy. Something she definitely hadn't expected on this trip, but she didn't mind being proven wrong in this instance. Dean and Sam had even started up their teasing again. It was light and unobtrusive right now, but it was a start. A step towards some healing. The Hunt hadn't gone nearly as bad as she had expected it to so far, and she was fine playing the optimist right now. It helped her not regret her decision to come, and it lessened her guilt about walking out on Roger like that. But only by a little.

Pretty soon Samantha was sitting back into her part of the bench seat, smiling happily and nibbling on a fruit bar as "Thunderstruck" boomed out of the car and into the air. The car vibrated with the bass and her ears were a little sore, but she was enjoying herself thoroughly. When she had finished her fruit bar, she picked up the other one and wolfed that down in a few bites. Good enough for her. She grabbed her air guitar and started playing along, singing like a drunken idiot and feeling completely unashamed at her childish behavior. It wasn't long until Sam was whipping her head around with the music.

Seeing AC/DC in concert was on her bucket list. Along with Guns 'N Roses, Aerosmith, and Blue Oyster Cult, but those were just her top choices. Eventually the song ended and Sam leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed, panting slightly from the effort she had put into savoring the song. A few seconds later, "For Those About to Rock, We Salute You" started playing, but it was much lower than "Thunderstruck" had played. Without opening her eyes, Sam tilted her head towards where Dean was probably leaning through the window and making fun of her with his eyes.

"I thought I've told you the house rules before, Sammy: Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole." Yes, definitely making fun of her. His voice cracked with his effort of not laughing at her. Screw Dean, he was just as bad as her about rocking out to his music; he had no right to mock her.

"Pie hole in your case, yeah?" Sam opened her eyes and gave Dean a pointed look. He grinned, unabashed at her question. His love of pie almost rivaled his passion for the Impala.

"Damn right, Sammy." Dean pulled his door open and settled in behind the wheel, setting food of his own between them on the seat. Sam stared at the food and large soda and bit her lip, thinking.

"Dean, how'd you pay for all that? Are you guys still running credit card scams?" Dean shrugged, pulling out of the gas station faster than most people were comfortable with.

"Hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career. 'Sides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." Sam leaned down by her feet for her chips and water, unphased by her brother's answer.

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Dean thought for a moment, trying to remember.

"Uh… Bert Aframian, and his son Hector. Scored two cards outta the deal." Dean waggled his eyebrows, obviously finding the names just as ridiculous as Sam did. She snorted and tried to imagine her brother posing as a "Hector." The image made her bark out a laugh before she could stifle it. She swallowed the rest of her laughs with a big swig of water.

"They aren't that funny, Sammy."

"You know, Dean, I'm not Sammy anymore. Sammy was a chubby little girl that couldn't get a paper cut without crying to you about it. It's Sam, okay?" Dean reached over to the volume control and cranked the music back up as the intro to "Back in Black" began.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," Dean raised his voice above the music to be heard, "the music's too loud." Sam saw rather than heard Dean's smug chuckle and shook her head. He was so childish sometimes. 26 her ass, he was as emotionally stunted as a teenager.

She couldn't help it when her head started bobbing or when she started lightly strumming on a smaller version of her previous air guitar. And when she heard the singing, she thought what the hell and opened her mouth to join. Jericho was still a good two hours away, according to the store clerk, so she might as well enjoy the ride.

Dean just laughed at her, but even he wasn't immune to the power of AC/DC. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel and his head was bobbing just a little. Sam got herself comfortable for the ride, popping a chip in her mouth. It wasn't the kind of breakfast she was used to, but she'd just have to make due.

Sam grinned when her brother started singing along too. She pulled out her cell phone for the first time since leaving and turned it on. She had four text messages and a missed call from Roger. When she got to her inbox she saw that the first three were from some of her friends asking why she hadn't been in class today. They obviously hadn't talked to Roger yet. Sam fleetingly wondered for a moment what he would tell them when they asked. She opened the last text, from Roger and read it to "Rock 'N' Roll Ain't Noise Pollution".

'Hey Sam,

Just wanted to check in. Where are you guys? You doing okay? I miss you!

Love,

Roger.'

Sam smiled and wrote him a quick but evasive message back not really giving him a real location, but assuring him she was okay. Roger was going to be impatient and angry with her when she got back, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't open up about this to him, and he would just have to understand or learn to deal with disappointment. She wasn't going to add his nightmares to her conscience when she told him about the monsters out in the world.

When they passed a sign that said they were seven miles outside of Jericho, Sam grew tense. What answers were they going to get when they got there? Was their dad safe? Was he injured, or just falling off the map for this case? What had him so scared that he couldn't even check in?

What the hell had happened here?


Review? Please? You know you want to! See? Your fingers are just itching to review! Just let it happen. (: