Chapter Ten - Giving the word 'Nightmare' a whole new meaning

He couldn't breathe. The air was suffocating. Someone was there with him, trying to hurt him, trying to kill him. Someone grabbed his shoulders. Dean fought, trying to break free, screaming at whoever it was, whatever it was, to let him go. His wrist hurt. It was cut and bleeding. The sight of blood scared him, and he fought harder.

"Dean! Stop it, wake up!" Dean opened his eyes with a gasp, only to find himself in bed, his father gripping his hands tightly. Dean was sweating and shaking. "It's okay, son, you're safe now." John said, a little more softly. He waited for Dean to calm down a little more before he pulled his son to his chest, holding him, rubbing a hand gently up and down his son's back. He'd learned that lesson the hard way; it was best to let Dean calm down before they tried to touch him. John had had the black eye to prove it, Sam having the broken nose. Dean sank into his father, holding onto him as if he were a lifeboat, as John stroked his hair lovingly, returning the embrace. Sam was tending to his bloodied nose, grimacing. It was already broken, he was afraid it was going to get worse.

The nightmares started a couple of nights after Dean came back. The first one had John jumping out of his bed with the gun in his hand, ready to take on half a dozen demons at least. Dean couldn't tell them what he dreamt about, mostly because it scared him too much to put it to words, but also because he didn't quite understand what he was seeing. The first few he had finally figured out. The yellow eyes were a dead giveaway. At first he thought it was just his subconscious reacting to everything he'd been through, but then he started to recognize those nightmares for what they were. Memories. Distant, long repressed, memories. Yellow, malicious eyes, pinning him with their gaze. He didn't even remember what the rest of the demon looked like. The eyes were all consuming. They had him pinned to the wall, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to even cry. His head filled with distant, soft whispers, but the sheer terror pushed them away. The eyes seemed amused at his straggles. Daddy. He had to call daddy, but he couldn't. All Dean could do was mouth the words as the demon made its way to Sammy's nursery. Dean tried to scream for his mommy, to warn her, but he couldn't. And then came the scream, and then the fire, and then he was free.

The nightmares only got worse after that. Those were different; scary, painful even. It got to a point where he was afraid to go to sleep.

"Shh, it's okay, son," John whispered in his ear, "it was just a dream." He said over and over, but Dean still couldn't breathe. The air was still suffocating. He pushed away from his father, a haunted look in his eyes, and leaped for the door. He struggled with the key for a moment, and then he was out of the room, taking in the cool night air. Dean shuddered, falling to his knees. He was starting to get a little claustrophobic. His father was soon by his side, his hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but this time it wasn't enough. Dean pressed his hands to his temples, trying to make the whispers go away, trying to ease the headache. There were so many different voices, and none of them made sense. If only they said something that made sense! Dean shook his head, trying to get the last remnants of the dream to go away, but the fear was still there. And so was the feeling that someone was after him, trying to get to him, trying to kill him. John helped him to his feet. "You want to take a little walk?" his father asked. This wasn't new, either. Trying to get Dean inside too soon would only result in a panic attack. Something was happening to his son, and John didn't like it. Dean nodded. The fresh air was still necessary, as well as the lack of walls closing in around him.

"I'll come with you." Sam suggested. Dean stared at him for a moment, noticing the blood staining his T-shirt, and grimaced.

"Sorry, Sammy." He said. Sam shook his head dismissingly.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." He said, and waited for Dean to lead the way. Sam gave his father a meaningful look before starting after his brother.

"It looked like a really bad one." Sam said eventually. They have been walking in silence for a while, and Dean still had that haunted, fearful look in his eyes. Dean nodded, wincing. The headache was growing stronger. "Dean, I was thinking," Sam started, watching his brother worriedly. Dean didn't even try to make a joke. It was a bad sign. "You always get headaches after those nightmare." Sam started, only to get an angry glare from his brother.

"No kidding, Sherlock." Dean snapped irritably.

"You know, I get headaches. Really bad ones. You know, um, after I get a vision." Sam said, his voice trailing off at the end.

"That sucks out loud." Dean muttered, wincing as a car's headlights blinded him momentarily, making his headache even worse.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, studying his brother.

"About what?" Dean asked as he kept on walking.

"About your nightmares." Sam said, "You think they could be… you know?" he asked. "I mean, it makes sense in a way, doesn't it?" he kept going when Dean didn't answer. Dean pushed his watched a little higher up his hand, looking at the scar on his wrist. He's had it ever since he could remember, but he didn't remember how he got it. He never really thought about it before.

"They're not visions." Dean said, not even looking at Sam.

"How can you be so sure?" Sam asked, "Maybe if you tell me what you see, I could…"

"They're not visions, Sam, okay?" Dean snapped. Sam blinked, surprised at the anger in his brother's voice. He raised his hands.

"Okay." He said, and watched Dean moving on, quickly following him. "But they are getting worse." Sam noted. Dean said nothing to protest. Another bad sign. "You really need to get some sleep, man." Sam went on. Dean snorted.

"No, thanks, I'm set." He said.

"Dean," he jumped when Sam grabbed his arm. He actually had to stop himself from pounding Sam to the ground. "Listen, man, it's not right. Something's going on with you, and we need to figure out what." Sam said worriedly.

"I'm just tired, Sam." Dean said, shaking Sam's hand off him.

"Well, maybe you should see someone." Sam said in a small voice. "You know, like a doctor or something. Maybe they could give you some pills or something to help you sleep better." He suggested, and Dean didn't say anything. Another warning sign. Hell, this one practically had flashing red lights on it, and an arrow pointing to the words 'something's wrong' flashing marquee-style. Dean hated doctors. He did everything he could to avoid them. Well, unless they belonged to the female kind and were sitting in a bar, then he didn't mind so much.

The doctor gave Dean a small bottle of pills and five names of whom he claimed were excellent therapists. The pills actually worked the first couple of nights. The first time Dean took them he slept for fifteen hours straight. But then the nightmares came back, with vengeance, so it seemed. The first one he had was of Anna. He kept seeing her die, and whenever she did, he could feel whatever she felt. It was so bad he actually woke up with a bruise on his chest at one time, from where she had gotten shot.

And then it got worse.

John had gotten a call from Missouri. She only told him one thing. Get those boys and run. Doesn't matter where, just go, and don't look back. Sam had had a vision that night. Dean's headache got so bad he had passed out.

TBC

A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm mean. That's one hell of a cliffy, but what can I say, it's gonna get much worse before it gets better… Review please… (and don't kill me, I'll update tomorrow, promise!)