A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!
While Sam was tossing and turning in his nightmare world, Dean was having a rather pleasant dream. Or so it seemed to him. He was back in Lawrence and though he'd been an adult the last time he had visited there he saw the city as he had when he was a child, larger than it really was and full of adventurous wonders. He even had his old Converse High-tops laced about his feet and he smiled down at them like he was welcoming an old friend from a long journey.
The streets were vacant save for a lone woman standing perhaps ten yards down the way from him. She looked young, perhaps in her early twenties, and he could hear her youthful voice calling to him like a siren song. Dean took off after her, listening to the thud of his heels on pavement and the blood rushing through his face. He was faster than he remembered, uninhibited by such physical laws like gravity and old age. He had barely passed the age of thirty, he knew, but sometimes he felt like he was much older and at the tail end of his life. With the way things were going for him maybe he was.
"Wait," he called to her, surprised when his lips and tongue formed the word but his vocal cords refused to give sound to it. Apparently he was mute in his little dream world.
Even though he hadn't made a noise the woman turned back to look at him as if she'd heard him, smiling at him with something akin to longing in her eyes. She beckoned him forward with a long, slender finger and he began to sprint down the street, grinning like a loon at how wonderful a path his subconscious seemed to be heading down. He had almost reached her when Sam stepped directly in his path nearly knocking him over.
"Don't go to her," Sam said solemnly. "Don't go to her, Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was a nuisance even in his dreams. He put a hand against Sam's shoulder and pushed, trying to move past him to where the girl stood waiting, watching the two with jealous eyes. His brother refused to budge, staring at him intensely.
"She's no good for you," Sammy warned. "Stay away from her, Dean. Go back home."
Dean sighed and walked around his younger brother, pausing only to look back at him in mild distaste. Sam had disappeared, however, and Dean turned his attention back to the little minx in the yellow sundress.
He could see her clearly now and he was immediately hit with a desire so strong he might have committed murder if it meant being with her. She was tall, but not freakishly so and her figure was lean and strong. She was barefooted and tan, smile full of wicked humor. She peered at him through turquoise eyes and her lips were quirked seductively, straight white teeth biting her lower lip as if shy. Brown hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and as he followed the brunette locks down her throat and over her arms he couldn't help but wonder if her skin tasted as creamy as it looked. Jesus, he thought absently, my dream is turning into a freaking romance novel.
She beckoned him forward again and he ran to her like she was the last drop of water in a barren desert. His breath came in harsh gasps, but he didn't mind the burn in his chest. It took his attention off the burn plaguing him elsewhere.
He followed her for a while, never stopping, only chasing her like a man possessed. They had passed the city limits and had begun down a path that Dean had never seen before and wasn't entirely sure he liked. Still, he followed.
The clouds above him turned surly and he could hear the distant claps of thunder as if the gods above were waging a war in the sky. Leaves skittered across the deserted streets and Dean almost jumped out of his skin with every predatory swipe of wind. He was chilled to the bone and shivering, but still he followed.
He only stopped when Bobby screamed his name out from across the street. He turned to face the old hunter in perplexity and frowned at him as he frantically waved Dean over to him. He looked desperately at the woman in the sundress and panicked when she did not stop for him. He shook his head at Bobby, trying to make him understand why he was refusing him.
"Turn around," Bobby screamed. "Go back, you idgit! Go back!"
Dean ignored him and continued on down the darkening street. Rain began to fall in torrents and lightning flashed, but still Dean followed. He loved her. Dean knew he did. He didn't know when it had happened or why, but all of that mattered very little to him. All he wanted was to hold the woman in the sundress in his arms for the rest of his life, to be with her, to love her. He would follow her to the end of the earth if he had to.
Dean wasn't sure when he became aware that something was following him. It skulked behind him, but refused to make its presence known to him. He was aware that his dream had somehow turned into a nightmare, but the desperate love he felt for this woman kept him from waking. Suddenly, he was sure that he was meant to save her from the beast following them. It didn't matter what the creature was or it's intent, all that mattered was her safety. He would tear its heart out if she asked it of him.
"Dean," said an agonizingly familiar voice. "Stop, son. Just stop."
Dean turned to gaze at the one person who could temporarily halt him from his mission of love. John Winchester stared evenly back and flashed his eldest a tentative smile. He put a warm, heavy hand on Dean's shoulder and pulled him into a rib-crushing embrace.
"Listen to me," John whispered in his ear. "She isn't what you think she is, son. Stop following her and go home. Please."
Dean pulled back and shook his head, glancing at where the woman had disappeared into a line of green foliage.
"I can't," he mouthed, almost jumping out of his skin when he could suddenly hear his words, soft but clear.
"Yes, you can," John whispered. "Fight it, Dean. Fight her off. You're a Winchester for, Christ's sake. Don't do this."
"You don't understand," Dean rasped. "I love her, dad. Don't you want me to be happy? Why can't you be happy for me?"
"She won't make you happy," John groaned. "She'll kill you, Dean. Please, just—"
"No," Dean snarled. "You never could stand for me to be happier than you were, dad. You made my life miserable, but not anymore. I don't have to listen to you!"
John reached out to grab his son, but Dean threw a punch at him, nearly falling over as his fists passed straight through him. John instantly vanished and Dean shouted in triumph and immediately pelted towards where he had last seen sundress girl.
"Wait," he shouted. "Wait up!"
He came bounding around the corner and stopped dead at the edge of a dark, hissing river. It's waters rushed past him and he could almost feel its icy depths calling out to him like a siren in the night.
None of this seemed to bother the sundress girl. She stood in the middle of the river, clothes clinging to the contours of her body in pleasant angles and shadows. She smiled at him and crooked her finger as if to draw him in.
"I can't," he shouted, trying to be heard over the rain and the roar of the river. "I'll drown."
"I won't let you," sundress girl said calmly. "Trust me, Dean. I'm not drowning, why would you?"
"I don't…it's too fast," Dean groaned. "I can't get to you."
"Don't you want me," sundress girl pouted. "I want you, Dean. Come in so we can be together forever."
"Forever," Dean breathed, taking a nervous step into the racing waters.
The water was freezing and not as shallow as he'd originally thought. He fell with a splash into the depths, water enveloping his entire body in a horrid cocoon of shattering agony. The icy cold was biting into him with razor teeth over and over again and when he screamed water rushed down his throat to fill his lungs.
The woman in the golden sundress stared down at him from the surface, plump lips pulling back from her teeth in a feral snarl. She grabbed a hold of his shirt collar and drug him down, down, down into the depths until his back hit the rocky bottom with a painful thud. Dean struggled uselessly against her, but she held firm and pulled his face towards hers. She kissed him then and Dean groaned with a sudden insane pleasure. She was killing him, he knew, sucking the air from his lungs, but he couldn't stop his lips moving against hers or his hands from tangling themselves in her hair.
Dean's vision narrowed until all he could see was her face. She wrapped cold hands around his throat and squeezed viciously, pulling back to watch the life fade from his eyes. She was no longer the beautiful siren of the deep and if Dean could have screamed he would have. There simply wasn't enough air in his lungs.
Her teeth, no longer straight but crooked, were jagged like a shark and Dean could vaguely make out rows and rows of teeth behind the first set. Her eyes, once turquoise and filled with youthful vivacity, were now flat and black and he could see the hunger reflected in her gaze. She's going to eat me, Dean thought dully, vision blackening further. Dear God, I'm going to be mermaid chow.
Wake up, he thought desperately. Wake up, dammit, wake up! But, he didn't wake up. She was crushing the life from him with her now webbed fingers and Dean couldn't escape from her. Suddenly, Dean knew, with absolute certainty that this was no longer a dream. He was not in Lawrence and there had been no pretty woman in a sundress, only this thing, luring him to his death with hallucinations of love and pleasure beyond his wildest imaginings.
How long had he been under? Thirty seconds? A minute? Longer? Regardless of how long it had been, Dean knew he had very little time left. He wanted to fight her, he really did, but his muscles no longer held the strength to do anything but keep his laboring heart beating. Suddenly, there was blinding pain in his shoulder, right in the space where his throat met his collarbone. The water turned a murky brown and he knew instantly that she had bitten him.
He could feel her teeth tearing into his flesh, worrying and ripping at the wound with savage jerks. He was losing consciousness fast, but he had enough brainpower to dimly recall some scene in the blockbuster hit Jaws and the famous one liner "we're going to need a bigger boat." Sure, there was no boat, but the statement seemed accurate enough and Dean laughed, sucking more water into his lungs and making the creature biting into him growl with savage pleasure.
Suddenly, there was a new sensation. It was pleasing and painful all at the same time. Something was gripping his hair, nearly pulling it from the roots, but whatever it was that grasped him pulled him from the claws of the monster holding him and he watched through hooded eyes as it came after him, clawing at the water and propelling itself forward with unbelievable speed.
Never going to make it, Dean thought right before he passed out. Never going to—
Dean went away for a while. He wasn't sure where he was and didn't particularly care. There was no light, but Dean didn't feel scared. It was silent and peaceful, no pain, no sorrow, no guilt. Perhaps he could have stayed in his little Fortress of Solitude forever, but somebody on the outside wouldn't let him.
Something hard pressed on his chest, once, twice, three times, but Dean remained obdurate and stayed where he was. He felt someone blowing air into his lungs, the thin membranes rising and falling without his consent. Still he stayed. The pounding on his chest, however, quickly grew incessant and there were suddenly flashes of light and sound in Dean's peaceful darkness that the young hunter instantly blamed the outside presence for. Go away, he thought sourly, just go awa—
Suddenly, Dean was no longer in his Fortress, but outside of it, gasping and coughing muddy water up from his saturated lungs. He flopped over on his side like a fish out of water and hacked the remaining fluids out on the inside of a rather beat up boat. Sam was there, he knew, he could hear his brother calling to him, chanting his name over and over again like a prayer.
Thunder clapped overhead and Dean dimly recalled the thunder in his hallucinations and realized with a start that his mind had taken bits and pieces of the surrounding world and added it to the visions in his head. There was no rain, however, and Dean thanked whatever gods would listen for that small mercy. He tried to turn back over, but his ravaged shoulder screeched in protest and Dean had to bite back a scream. The pain of it made him see stars and he wished fervently that he could pass out. He did.
He woke once more in the backseat of a pickup truck, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, with Sam's lap as a rather uncomfortable pillow. His brother wasn't looking at him, but Dean could feel his hand pressing firmly against the wound on his shoulder and he wondered why his skin felt sticky. Then he caught the coppery tang of blood in the air and he realized, with detached alarm, that his blood was everywhere. On Sam's clothes, the blanket, the door of the truck where Sam's handprint stood out starkly against the blue metal frame, the seats in front of them. Instinctively, Dean knew that whatever had bitten him in the river had probably signed his death warrant the moment it had sunk it's teeth into him. He received only the slightest satisfaction from the fact that with his escape she had been denied her meal.
"Sammy," he rasped deliriously. "Sammy, we're gonna need a bigger boat, Sammy. We've chummed the water, but now we see what we're up against. You tried to warn me, Sammy, you all tried to warn me, but I didn't listen and now I'm dying, Sammy, I'm dying. Can you believe that? Jaws took a bite out of me and I'm dying."
"What did he say," came a panicked voice from the front seat.
"Nothing," Sam replied, staring down at his brother with a mixture of sorrow and guilt. "He's mumbling, but what I can actually hear doesn't make any sense. Can't you make this thing go any faster? He's bleeding something fierce, Walt."
"I'm going as fast as I can," Walt assured him. "We'll get there in time, Sam."
"Sammy," Dean tried to say. "Sammy, Jaws. She was like the shark from Jaws, Sam! She bit and tore and—" He glanced sideways at his shoulder and swallowed past the painful lump in his throat. "Hamburger meat. I'm hamburger meat, Sammy. Pickles, mayo, ketchup, and extra onions, right, Sammy? Pickles, mayo, ketchup, onions. Pickles, mayo, ketchup, onions. Pickles, mayo, ketch—
His shoulder throbbed and he went away again. He dreamed, dreamed of the girl in the sundress and the creature she had become. He dreamed of a man with a name like a monster but the voice and touch of an angel. He saw flashes of colors and light, but none of them made sense to him and so he passed them off as part of a dream, too.
His wound suddenly erupted into a blazing inferno and Dean screamed, jerking back and away from the flames that licked his skin. Someone with an iron grip was sadistically holding him down and Dean struggled uselessly against the hold. Somebody was doing this to him. They were watching the flames consume him like he was an ant underneath a magnifying glass on a sunny day.
"Boat," he heard himself rambling from far away. "We're gonna need a bigger boat. Please, Sammy, find us a bigger boat. I…I…Jesus, jesus, please make it stop. Please make them stop, Sammy. Please…I…bigger boat, Sam. Find a bigger boat."
Somebody stuck something sharp into his wound and the pain became so unbearable that Dean felt tears slip down his cheeks, but whatever was in the little stick that had bit into him with such intensity was coursing through his bloodstream and wiping away the pains of his body as it went. Dean thought he said something about demon mermaids and aphrodisiacs, but wasn't sure, drifting into sleep before he could really come up with a definitive answer.
Dean drifted for a long time after that. He wasn't sure how long it was, but he knew that whatever time had been given to him was in short supply. He also knew that the demon mermaid, or encantado or empanada or whatever she was had been furious that she had been thwarted and robbed of her meal. She would be coming for him again. Dean knew it almost as certainly as he knew his own name. He could feel her at the edges of his mind, trying to assert control over his innermost thoughts. He truly believed that whatever drugs were being pumped into him, he was being kept doped up enough that any real thought she might have clung to only slipped through her fingers like butter.
It would only be a matter of time, however. She would be coming for him and now that he'd thoroughly pissed her off he highly doubted that she would make it easy for him. And in his weakened state, Dean knew that he would be no match for her. HE would give in easily and walk into her waiting arms willingly before she fed on his flesh and blood.
He slipped into the black once more, but this time the darkness was not welcoming. This time there were snaggle-toothed sharks gliding around him, not visible but there nonetheless. They circled him like the sharks Dean had seen on Saturday morning cartoons. He dared not move because he knew one would be there to stop him, but he also knew that if stayed where he was he would be ripped to pieces. Still, he stayed frozen where he was, eyes transfixed on the darkness to see what he could.
The woman in the yellow sundress was pounding on the door to his brain, screeching and crying as she was continually denied entrance.
"Mine," she shrieked. "You are mine!"
Yes, Dean thought dimly as one of the sharks in the darkness took a giant chunk out of him. I'm yours.
The sharks seized upon his admission in a furious battle of teeth and fin, ripping into him with relish. Yours, he thought. Yours, all yours. There was no pain for him and he felt himself slipping away with an almost detached curiosity.
Dean could hear the distant frantic screech of a heart monitor and he knew he was flat lining. The sharks had done their job well and he was amazed to find that, for the first time, there was no pain in death. He could handle that, he supposed as his heart slowed.
No pain.
No responsibility.
Nothing.
Pure and absolute. Peaceful.
His heart stopped.
Dean Winchester smiled and saw no more.
