10. Like a Riot

This is not the end, this is not the beginning
Just a voice like a riot rocking every revision

Control.

If there was one thing Dean desired with their lifestyle, it was having full control of how shit went down. It was an unfounded longing, but he couldn't deny the fact that sometimes he just wished he could make everything stop and fix all their problems before they could continue multiplying by the dozens.

Dean Winchester liked control.

And his current situation was spiralling so fast in the opposite direction; it was making his head spin and his thoughts to all mash up until he looked forward to this stupid thing to be done with so he could go drown himself in alcohol at a bar. Or in women, whichever suited his mood.

But as always, big brother roles came first, and he'd be damned if he ever put anything before that. After all, he did only have a year to watch out for Sammy before he couldn't any more. Might as well make the most of it, right?

Speaking of which, said brother had been worryingly silent ever since the 'attack'. They were walking it to the library – considering Sam's laptop probably needed a few repairs after Dean's assault on the table back at the motel. Dean glanced at him sideways; not making it obvious seeing as there were people on the street and the last thing he needed was to be watched cautiously like he belonged at the loony bin for talking to thin air.

Sam's walk was somewhat slouched, a crease between his eyebrows as he undoubtedly struggled against the pull that Dean figured hadn't completely gone yet. His eyes were downcast as he trudged beside his brother, bangs shadowing them so Dean couldn't get a good look at the turmoil that he knew was there.

Dean returned his gaze to the looming building they were heading to, chewing his lip. He remembered something Bobby had mentioned on the phone. "You know anything about Shadewalkers?" he asked quietly, flicking his eyes to Sam momentarily.

Sam looked up, this time frowning thoughtfully. "Not really... why?"

"Bobby mentioned it, he..." Dean trailed off as a passing man stared at him oddly. He reciprocated with a challenging glare that made the older man look away and hurry off. Huffing, Dean returned his attention to Sam, who was stifling a smirk. "What?"

"Nothing," said Sam with all the innocence of a little brother. He grinned. "Just don't talk so obviously, people might find out how crazy you are. Not a good image for Dean Winchester, right?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, though it was damn good to hear Sam joking around amidst all this. "Great. It's like Sam Wheat with his freaking attitude." He rolled his eyes.

Sam snorted. "Dude, Swayze? Really?"

"What's wrong with Swayze?" Dean threw back in mock-annoyance. He got an eye-roll in response, which teetered off as Sam's step faltered and he winced, raising a hand to pull slightly at the amulet's coil around his neck.

Dean's eyes widened. Shit, not here, not now. "Sam?" He stopped, staring at his brother in unveiled concern.

"Yeah- 'm... I'm good," Sam gasped out, rubbing his forehead and squinting his eyes open. He breathed out and nodded, blinking a few times. "I'm fine. Wasn't as bad as before."

Dean shook his head, turning to stride up towards the library entrance before them with a muttered, "That sonuvabitch."

-x-

In the end, it took both the Winchesters' and Bobby's combined researching efforts to get down to the heart of the issue.

"So what you're saying," Dean said into his phone as he eyed his brother across the table warily. "Is that these Shadow Walkers cause nightmares and suck on the person's soul from there."

Sam made a face at the description.

Dean could almost hear Bobby rolling his eyes. "Basically. But what I'm not getting is the severity of the deaths here. They usually only feed for a night, maybe two, just enough to get their fill."

"Well, you know us, we only attract the best," Dean sniped, his tone weary.

Sam leaned forward, frowning at the book he was reading from. "But there are different types, aren't there?" he said, raising his voice a little so it carried to the phone lying on the table between them, on loudspeaker. It was a good thing no-one hung around in these areas in small-town libraries, or the brothers – well, Dean – would be getting an endless supply of weird looks. Not that it'd be anything new to them, but keeping a low profile was preferred.

"Well, there would be. I've only ever heard of Shadow Walkers from Indian lore around here and there's not much that I could find on any others. Why, you got somethin'?"

Sam nodded at the book with an eagerness that Dean hadn't seen in a while and he shifted closer to see what it was as his brother elaborated. "There's Celtic lore on them too, but it has the Galician name – Sombra Andador – though they mostly hang around in the Spanish areas. I guess one could've found its way up here, new feeding grounds maybe?"

Dean nodded, trailing a sentence with his finger. "This is pretty intense stuff – said they feed off the despair and fear brought on by certain types of nightmares... What's a Morte Andador, then?"

Sam looked uneasy and hesitated. The question was answered quietly by Bobby. "Death Walker." There was a pause as it sunk in. "Didn't think they were around anymore, the Celts found ways to dispatch them early on – they were too chaotic, restless... fed on anyone they deemed unworthy of life. The Sombra Andadors don't generally have a lasting effect, they feed off all the despair that they can get from a couple of nightmares and that's usually enough for a while; leaves the person drained, but not dead. These guys, though..."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "We saw what they do." He stared at the book, the picture at the bottom catching his eye. It was obscure, a haze of shadows with twisted, grotesque faces immersed between them and an even darker figure in the middle, the darkness seeming to extend from it. His gaze shifted up to Sam, taking in the far-away darkened look in his hazel eyes and not liking it.

He cleared his throat, snapping Sam out of whatever dark reverie his freaky mind had taken him to and directing his words to Bobby. "Right. So how do we gank this Celtic bitch?"

"It's not that easy, Dean." There was the sound of rustling paper preceding Bobby's next sombre words. "Shadewalkers can only be driven away by sheer willpower – they don't have a physical being that can be killed. Unless there's been a summoning, but those result in mass killings - target a whole group instead of individuals – and have only been successful a handful of times; those can be stopped by using a ritual of sorts to burn up the summoning space..."

"Willpower should be able to drive away the Morte Andador too, though, shouldn't it?" Sam asked, words leaking thoughtful curiosity. Dean narrowed his eyes.

Bobby sighed before answering. "Theoretically, yes. Don't go gettin' any stupid ideas though – it's sited pretty damn strongly for the Shadewalkers but Death Walkers don't exactly have the most reliable sources documenting them."

"'Stupid ideas', what ideas?" Dean stared his brother down suspiciously. He definitely didn't like that look, or the way he kept pulling gently at the amulet lying heavily against his chest. "Sam. What the hell are you thinking?"

Sam met his eyes. He seemed to deliberate his words before voicing them, no doubt not wanting to spike Dean's overprotective tendencies into anger. Righteous anger, Dean thought somewhat defensively. He was already apprehensive and Sam hadn't even answered his question yet.

"I'm thinking," his brother spoke carefully. "This Morte Andador's pretty adamant to get me and the only thing that stops it from pulling me back into that... nightmare place... is this." He lifted Dean's amulet, high enough so he could gaze at it thoughtfully.

Dean frowned. He knew where this was going, and hell no he didn't like it. But before he could voice his opinion, Sam hurried on.

"Look, man, just hear me out – say I take the amulet off and let it take me-"

Bobby beat Dean this time. "Idgit – what did I say about stupid ideas?"

Dean nodded in hearty agreement. "Sammy, you're not letting this Death Walker pull you into nightmare wonderland."

Sam's eyebrows pulled together and he stared imploringly at his brother, adding in that tone, "But if I can beat it... If I can resist the whole 'despair and fear' thing and beat it..."

"Oh, God," Dean groaned, rolling his eyes and tilting his chair back. "He's using the damn eyes, Bobby," he said flatly.

Bobby snorted. "You're both damn digits. Sam, that is one helluva risky plan and you don't know how many things can go wrong there. If we can find something else-"

Sam huffed a bitter laugh. "Story of our lives, don't you think?" He shrugged. "Look, it's either trust me to do this, or let it keep trying to pull me back while we look for another way that might not even work." He paused, shooting Dean a loaded look with shadowed eyes. "But if its tries become stronger then we don't know what my resisting could do."

Dean was torn. He just wanted to save Sam. No catch. No extra heavy risks. He couldn't watch his brother go through another mental violation like that other one, just stand by and watch. But it was clear that Sam refusing to go, letting the amulet anchor him here, it hurt. Dean could never stand by while his little brother was hurting and right now he had to choose between two options that could potentially hurt him some more.

Of course, the difference was that one would continue harming him, side effects unknown, and the other would offer Sam a fighting chance – though whether it would be fair was a whole question in itself.

It wasn't a matter of trust. Dean trusted Sam to know what to do – the kid was stronger than anyone he knew, his stubbornness sure to be enough willpower in itself. But the fact of matter remained that the stakes were high and unknowns in their field were never a good thing. Especially if they were going head-on straight into the hunt.

So what was it? Search up another way to get rid of this Morte Andador, with the danger of it mentally attacking Sam again meanwhile and having nothing to defend him with... Or trust Sam to slip into his Death Walker-induced nightmares and crush it while resisting the depressing pull of overpowering emotions from relived memories that he most definitely would not want to relive.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He chanced a glance at Sam. His brother was alternating glances between him and the book on the Celtic lore. Dean knew that if he told Sam not to do it, he wouldn't; Sam's unwavering trust in Dean to know the solution was sometimes suffocating. The constant pressure that he might make the wrong choice and that faithful belief – or worse, Sam's life – would be in jeopardy because of him.

Not that this uncertainty ever showed. Big bro's always right, after all.

So he sat up, squared his shoulders before speaking. "All right, fine." Sam looked up at him, eyes wide. Dean narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, the cautioning clear. "If you're sure you can do this..."

"Do you think I can?" Sam returned immediately, honestly. There was no doubt in his expression, only that openly curious look that had been there since they were kids – been there whenever Sam wanted to know if he was capable of something, but couldn't decide for himself because Dean knew him better and was always right.

Dean shoved aside the emotion from that simple statement and instead threw his brother a cocky grin. "Well, you did learn from the best. Some Death Walker freak should be a piece of cake, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes, not quite hiding the smile that quirked his lips. "Egotistical jerk."

"Nah, just stating the truth. Bobby agrees with me, right?"

The sarcasm was ever present in their friend's voice. "Sure, if by 'best' you mean the cockiest idgit on the face of the planet. Your ego should be damn fine, Sam."

Dean took the jesting blow and grinned at his younger brother's infectious laughter.

He just hoped they wouldn't regret anything... there was more than enough lying heavily on their minds for now.

A/N: *sighs in relief* Sooo sorry for the wait! :/ I just really haven't had time to just be able to sit and write lately. These chapters kinda need to be done more or less in one sitting or else they just turn out weird. So today I'm just lazing around, trying to decide between checking out some Supernatural horror fics I bookmarked or working on this. Figured it was too nice a day for horror fics, sooooo story it is!

Hope you liked the somewhat lighter tone in this chapter. x) Totally not in the mood for angsting about today, lol. :P Besides, next chapter will have more than enough darkness... Anyway, so I'm guessing two more chapters and an epilogue, then this story's done. If all goes according to plan. I needa get this wrapped up before I really start getting into the Year 12 routine next term. *shudders* Last year of school. Shit. *hides*

This fic's just past 50 reviews, yay! xD Thank you all for those – but I'll leave the proper thanks to the end. ;)

(Who saw the 8x01 sneak-peek? :O CAAAAAAAS! :( But that hug. :3 *melts*)

Okays. Toodlies and all that... But let me know what ya thought first? :P Or just, like, tell me off for taking *checks* three weeks to get this done and threaten me to get the next one out faster. Whichever suits your fancy. *waves*

~iz.