Dean was starting to forget why he hated school by Friday. Really, it wasn't so bad.

Well, part of it was that now Cas was helping him with his homework, so he might actually pass something. The dude was smart. Maybe not the same way Sam was, where he was just nerdy, but he just knew random things.

Castiel was just about the most interesting person Dean had ever met and Dean never got bored of learning more about him. He just didn't think like other people did. And the more he got to know him, Cas was actually pretty fun too. He even had made a joke once or twice.

Dean went out to see Cas at lunch on Thursday, but when he went on Friday, the area beneath the bleachers was conspicuously empty. Dean just shrugged, figuring Cas wanted to be alone, and went to find Sam at his table.

And when he did, Cas was sitting at the table, already talking. Dean smiled. Cas wasn't doing such a bad job at being social. Maybe he didn't need Dean anymore. The thought made Dean a little sad, though he wasn't sure why.

He sat down and glanced over at Sam. The guy looked terrible, officially the worst Dean had ever seen him. He was dead tired, that much was obvious, but loud noises made him jump and he kept looking around, as if waiting for something scary to come out of the shadows.

"Hey, Sammy, I think something's up with my car. I wanted to show you," Dean said.

Sam met his eyes for a moment, seeming to recognize what Dean meant. Dean wouldn't ever want Sam's help with his car, so he knew he wanted to talk alone. "Okay, we'll be back," Sam said to the table in general. He got up and Jess leaned in for a kiss, but he didn't even seem to notice.

Once they were walking in an empty area, Sam said, "So, what do you wanna talk about?"

"Promise you aren't going to yell at me."

"I won't promise that."

"It's nothing bad. Please, just promise."

Sam exhaled. "Fine. What did you do?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I didn't do anything. I just want you to tell me what's wrong. You aren't sleeping, apparently. And sometimes… I swear to god, sometimes I think I hear you screaming in the middle of the night."

Sam stopped walking in front of the Impala, looking at the ground and biting his lip.

"I've been having nightmares," Sam finally said. "The same one, every night."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And mom is always in it."

Dean looked up at Sam, more concerned than before. Dean didn't like to think about mom, because something about her death seemed… evil. It didn't feel like an accident sometimes. Dean remembered little things… like how the fire started in the nursery. Why would a fire start there? And dad, he was so petrified… there was something missing from the story, Dean had always thought so.

"What happens?" Dean asked.

"Well, she dies," Sam muttered.

Dean somehow was able to read into the comment further than what Sam actually said. Dean and Sam were like that sometimes, they just understood each other. "You mean you literally watch her death? How it really happened?"

Sam shook his head. "It can't be how it really happened. It can't be real."

"Why not?" Dean asked, an inexplicable chill going up his spine.

Sam was quiet for a minute, picking at his shirt. "Because she's on the ceiling. Pinned there with some sort of magic."

Dean blinked a few times. On the ceiling.

Now why did that situation seem familiar?

"And there's a man leaning over my crib… doing something to me. He's the one who puts mom on the ceiling. And dad's there too, he sees mom on the ceiling."

But if this was what really happened, why was Sammy seeing it in his dreams?

"And sometimes," Sam continued, seeming not to want to stop talking now that he had started, "Instead of dad and mom, it's me and Jess. Jess on the ceiling, burning, and me, blood dripping on my forehead. But we both look older…"

"Is that why you are having trouble talking to Jess lately?"

Sam nodded. "Every time I look at her, I imagine her pinned to the ceiling. It scares the hell out of me."

Dean couldn't believe his baby brother was going through all that. Sam wasn't a wimp, as much as Dean liked to say he was. If this was scaring Sam that bad… these dreams had to be horrible. It actually made Dean kind of furious, but he didn't know who to be angry at.

"Maybe that's why the idea of Maddie is so attractive to me right now," Sam added. "I've never had a dream about her on the ceiling. When I look at her… I just see her."

Dean probably hadn't felt so bad for someone in his life. Every fiber in him was saying, "fix Sam's problem, protect Sam," but he had no idea how to do that.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I haven't gotten to the worst part yet," Sam admitted.

"How the fuck could it get worse?" Dean asked blankly.

"Oh, just wait," Sam muttered, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and there was already a picture open, as if it was the last thing he looked at. "I found it on the computer and I put a picture on my phone. I guess I figured I'd tell you. But anyway, this is one of those freaky websites where people that believe in demons and monsters and stuff post what they know. And this is the newest entry.

Dean leaned over it, seeing an entry by J . Impala . W. His eyebrows went up as he looked over to Sam. "Yeah, I know, read it," Sam continued.

Dean looked back down. The entry read, "Are there demons who burn women on the ceiling and try to kill infants on their six-month birthdays? Please, it's important, no jokes here. I wouldn't be posting here if I weren't desperate."

"What the flying fuck, man," Dean said. "And you never told him about your dreams, I'm assuming." Sam shook his head. They were both quiet, looking around. They were thinking the same thing, they both knew it.

Dean was the one that had the guts to say it. "If dad knows about it, and you never told him… then what if your dreams are real?"

"That just… it sounds insane."

"I know." But Dean couldn't help but feel like, somehow, it made sense. Like everything in his life so far was leading to this. "I just feel like I don't know what to do with this information."

Sam smirked, the closest he'd been to a smile in days. "Yeah, tell me about it. I'm going to ask dad what he knows this weekend."

Dean nodded. "So you don't freak out when you fall asleep in class," Dean noticed.

"Yeah, the nightmares only really happen at night."

"Then I think you need to head home."

"Dean—"

"There's only one class period left and you have it with me. I'll grab all your work, I promise. I just know you are going to the party tonight, so why don't you get some sleep first?"

"You want me to get rest for a party?"

"Judgment impaired by sleep deprivation is a bad idea at one of Arty's parties. Heh, that rhymed," he added. Sam rolled his eyes. "But seriously, dude. People will ask you to do things you don't want to do."

"Are you saying someone's gonna rape me?"

"Well, that wasn't what I meant, but it could happen, man. You need to be prepared. And either way, you need to sleep, okay? So let's get you out of here."


Dean was able to get Sam a note to go home. Dad wasn't available to pick him up—probably doing whatever he had been for days now, which Dean had a nasty feeling had to do with the post he put on the internet—so Dean took him back, getting back to school just in time for English.

He actually paid attention too, because Sam wasn't there to explain it all later, and wrote down all the work. He couldn't let Sammy down, not when his whole life probably felt like it was falling apart.

Dean got home and checked in his room. He smiled a little when he saw Sam was sleeping.

He thought about the party. Well, now there was no way he was going to break Cas' promise. He didn't feel like partying much, not after all he'd learned.

What was happening to his life? It had all made so much sense before… but now…

He had no idea what to do. About anything.

"Fuck," he muttered out loud. What the hell was happening?


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