A/N: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. I also don't own a classic car. I do however love listening to classic rock. And some of the songs I've heard recently were in the eps I watched :) Thanks again for all your reviews, Beautiful Ally (Please keep writing!), Megan and everyone.

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Sam watched as Dean's breathing began to even out, and knew his brother was asleep.

"Go get her," he whispered, settling himself more comfortably in the chair he'd dragged by the foot of Dean's bed.

He held a bottle of holy water in one hand and a gun with special salt-filled bullets in the other, which he'd gone to the Impala's trunk to get. If need be they would come up with a story for Ray. The ax lay in easy reach on the table, just in case. It was still light out, and the rain had ended. Eating breakfast and researching and Dean getting ready for bed hadn't taken too long. It was a measure of how little rest his brother had received the last few nights that he had fallen asleep so easily.

Sam found himself beginning to yawn and shook his head. He was on guard. If anything went wrong he would simply grab Dean's thumb and wake him. Not wanting to be distracted, he hadn't even turned on the television. The light peeking through the motel room's blinds slowly shifted as time passed, and Dean began to twist on the bed as he entered REM sleep. Sam straightened from his slumping posture in the chair, once more alert.

Even though he had expected it, the sight of the mist slowly beginning to stream out from the post by his brother's head put him on edge. It poured out, and wafted over to drift into a mass above Dean's bare chest. It began to coalesce into a shape, and Sam's fingers tightened on the gun. He consciously had to relax his grip; shooting it would accomplish nothing except to drive it away. Dean had to kill the creature while in the dream state. At least, that was the only way they had found on the internet. Still, Sam couldn't help but tense up in worry as the batibat took full form.

He kept his breathing even, as though he was asleep, and tried not to make any threatening moves. The creature took no notice of him, however, as its attention seemed to be fully on his sleeping brother. Dean was mumbling something, and shifted restlessly under the rotund female shape, which was hovering only a few inches above his body. It was leaning forward, and Sam saw it almost inhaling Dean's breath. Or was it blowing air at his brother? Maybe to manipulate his dreams? He shook his head, wishing they had spent even more time researching. Now that they knew what they were dealing with he could have really used the library's resources. Maybe there was another way to kill the creature? It was a demon, maybe an exorcism? It was too late now though, all he could hope was that Dean would be successful. However, if his brother began to have trouble breathing Sam wasn't going to just sit passively by.

Resolved, he quietly opened the bottle of holy water, knowing that at least that would have some effect. Then, despite wanting to knock that creature away from Dean, he waited, wondering what kind of nightmare his brother was going through. From the distressed sounds Dean was making it wasn't good. Fully awake now, Sam tensed, ready to leap to his brother's aid.

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Dean blinked and stared at the familiar place around him. The Bean Place coffeehouse was empty and shrouded in darkness. Dean looked around, but Sam was nowhere in sight. The bookcases seemed to leer at him and he quickly searched the area, sweeping the EMF meter around.

"Wait, what am I doing with this? It's a demon we're after," he muttered. Reaching into his jacket, he put away the item and pulled out a gun filled with wrought iron bullets that had been dipped in holy water. "Now that's more like it," he continued. "Sam! Hey, Sammy?" he called.

He walked around the empty coffeehouse, wondering where his brother was. Sam had been with him on their last trip here, when nothing had happened. Where was he now? And why was he in the coffeehouse? Dean stopped and wrinkled his forehead in thought. There was something he was supposed to do. They had to stop the demon from killing again. They had a plan. What was the plan?

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a large bang coming from the serving area. Instantly on alert, he walked noiselessly to the counter. Something was rustling around back there…

"Sam?" Dean called softly. The rustling increased, and holding the gun out, he stalked closer, trying to get a closer look at whatever it was in the dim illumination provided from the night lights.

Suddenly a large rat ran in front of him on the counter and Dean fell back with a cry of alarm. It was joined by another one, even larger, and he cursed and aimed the gun at them, then stopped and shivered as something ran over his foot.

"Son of a-" he got out when he felt movement around him and whirled, taking out a flashlight and clicking it on. He moved the beam to the floor and gasped-over two dozen large rats were running around, beady eyes shining reflections in the light. A tail whipped past his leg and he turned again, lost his balance when he felt fur brushing him and fell to the ground.

"NO!" he screamed, and began to just fire the gun randomly.

He heard an evil cackle and looked up. In front of him was the batibat, floating a few feet above the floor. He craned his head back, taking in the large face and small eyes packed inside the mist. Leaves seemed to be twined through her hair and she cackled again, seeming to take great pleasure in his fear of the small animals surrounding him on the floor.

"You b-" he started, then suddenly remembered. He could kill her here! Without wasting another moment he aimed the gun at the misty form and shot for what he hoped was her heart. He looked with satisfaction as the bullet hit its mark, and then aimed another one at her head. He kept firing until the gun was empty, and then paused.

The figure had flinched as the bullets had torn into its body, but it still remained floating a few feet above the ground. Then the batibat cackled again, and Dean blinked. "Shit," he thought, "she's not dead."

"You can't kill me," a whispery voice mocked him.

"Let's see about that," Dean said, getting up and pulling out the silver knife he had in its sheath along his leg.

"Gotta love a lucid dream," he thought, not knowing where the idea came from. Not worrying about it, he rose to his feet in one fluid motion and leapt up, slashing out at the rotund form. He felt resistance and continued to drag the knife through the neck of the creature as he fell lightly back to his feet.

The misty body fell to the ground in one direction while its head fell in another. The rats disappeared and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That should do it," he said aloud. He looked around. So why was he still here? Then he heard a familiar cackle.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," he muttered. The misty shape rose from the ground, the head re-attaching itself to the body.

"You can't kill me with your weapons. But I can kill you," the batibat laughed.

"That isn't going to be that easy, I'm on to you," Dean said. He looked around for something else to use.

"Perhaps. But I can kill someone you care about," it said, and the scene around him suddenly shimmered.

Dean closed and then re-opened his eyes. He was standing outside the diner where the gunman had pulled the fake gun on Sam. He heard a scuffling sound, and then Sam's cry of "Dean!"

"Sam!" Dean ran towards the sound of his brother's voice, which was coming from an alley behind the diner. It was dark outside and he could make out moving shadows in the alley.

Then he stopped dead, shocked at the sight of a large tree seemingly growing out of the pavement. Its branches filled the alley, but Dean's attention was grabbed by one thing. Hanging off a thick limb of the tree was a rope. On the other end of the rope was Sam, neck stretched taut, wheezing, his hands tied behind him, his feet dangling above the ground as he helplessly struggled.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, and started forward, only to be pushed back by the batibat, its long misty arm pressed onto his chest.

Dean watched in fear as Sam's struggles grew weaker and then ceased, his own breath coming in gasps as the pressure rose in his chest. The batibat laughed again, a feathery sound as she released him. Ignoring her, he ran to his brother, who was now hanging limply, body swaying in a faint breeze. Sam's tongue lolled out of his mouth, purplish in color and his eyes were mercifully closed.

Dean shook, knowing it was too late, as he tentatively reached a hand around to Sam's bound wrists. He didn't feel a pulse, and his brother's chest was not rising and falling as it should. Tears in his eyes, he turned to the demon plaguing his dreams.

"Why?" he asked.

The batibat glared at him. "Your kind took away my home. Took away my life. Now I take yours, as my family does to others of your kind," it hissed.

"There's more than one of you, then," Dean said, defeated. He had failed Sam. He hadn't killed the creature after all. This plan sucked. Then he brightened. Wait, this was a dream! It wasn't real. Sam wasn't really dead! At least not the real Sam. The dream Sam still hung lifelessly from the tree. "This isn't real!" he told the batibat, then was taken aback when it threw back its head and cackled loudly. Dean was really beginning to hate that sound.

"That is where you are wrong. I can affect your kind, invade your sleep, make what you think you are experiencing real for you. The others have already taken the dreamers and those they cared about most. Tonight I will take this one, but I will not take you. I will make you suffer long for trying to harm me. You will awaken, and he will be gone. He will die like this, but you will not be able to stop it. Then I will make you see this again and again until I grow tired of your pain. Only then will I grant you death, when you beg me for it. I begged for the sharp weapons to leave my home alone, but your kind did not listen to me. A life for a life," the batibat snarled, and then tugged at Sam, beginning to take him away. She faded into mist and disappeared from sight.

"No!" Dean cried, and then remembered and began to pull on his own thumb. He had to wake up right now.

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Dean had been asleep for a little while, and tossed and turned, muttering something that Sam couldn't fully catch. At one point he began gasping for breath, and he had called Sam's name. Sam thought enough was enough and rose from the chair. However his brother's breathing evened out again and Sam waited, within arm's reach of his brother's hand. The figure sitting above Dean's chest still took no notice of him, and he hoped that Dean would kill this creature soon.

Then his hand with the bottle of holy water in it twitched as the batibat turned its head, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Time for you to die," it whispered, its voice sending a chill of fear up his spine.

"I don't think so," Sam said and squirted the holy water, drenching the creature.

"No!" it screamed and recoiled, dissolving back into mist.

"Dean," Sam said, reaching forward to grab his brother's hand. He never made it. Two arms suddenly materialized out of the mist and grabbed his throat, squeezing and lifting him off the ground.

Choking, he brought up the holy water bottle again but one misty hand reached down, knocking the bottle to the ground. Sam countered with the gun, his finger tightening on the trigger but the hand batted that out of his grip as well. He reached up with his now free hands, trying to loosen the hold the one misty arm still held around his neck, but was unable to free himself. Deprived of oxygen, his vision began to get fuzzy as he saw a mist begin to surround him, and then darkness claimed him.

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"Sam!" Dean cried as he bolted upright in the bed. He looked around, fully awake, his chest vaguely hurting and his breathing a little labored. His own hurts paled in comparison to his worry, however, when he saw the motel room was empty except for him. The bottle of holy water and the gun Sam had been holding lay discarded on the floor. The batibat had taken his brother.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, hoping against hope that his brother was just in the bathroom, or just outside, or within hearing distance.

The silence after his cry filled the room only echoed his own fears. He was alone.

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Finally! There ya go. Sorry for the wait-next chapter on it's way much sooner. Have a good day :)