Chapter 10: Of monsters and Men, pt.1

Sam frowned. The newcomer was familiar to him, but he could not remember where he knew him from. He tried to tie a name or place to the face, but his head protested, sending waves of pain through him. He rubbed one hand against his temple and glanced at Dean.

"Who is he again?" he asked quietly. Dean's head whipped towards him, suspicion and worry in his eyes.

"You don't remember?" he asked slowly, testily. Sam shrugged.

"Andy," Dean said, and a light went on in his head. Dean nodded as he recognized the look in his brother's eyes.

"The receptionist at Doctor Fuller's office?" Sam glanced at the man standing at the other side of the bars.

"It's Andrew," he spat angrily, "Or Mr. Sparks for you. And I'm Doctor Fuller's assistant."

"You sure, Sparky?" Dean teased, "You sure looked more like his little receptionist bitch than his assistant."

Andrew glared at him and Sam hissed his brother's name in an effort to shut him up.

"So… what kind of magic did you use then?" Dean asked, "Or are you maybe some poisonous monster who bit those poor women?"

Andrew frowned, "Magic? Poisonous monster? What the hell are you talking about?"

Now it was the brothers' turn to frown, "The zombie-women of course."

Andrew smiled, "You like 'm?"

"What did you do to them?" Sam asked.

"What you call magic, is the noble art of science," Andrew grinned proudly. He sighed and frowned when the brothers didn't react the way he wanted them to, "It's easy, really. I designed neurotransmitters that convince those women that they want to be with me and love me forever. I injected them into the breast implants and made sure that the implants would rupture a little, leaking just enough to get the neurotransmitters in their bloodstream, where they would travel to the brain…"

"And infect them," Dean interjected.

"And improve them," Andrew retorted, "They were unhappy. I was unhappy. And now, we're all happy."

"Now, they're dead!" Dean yelled, "Why? Why would you do that?"

"I am smart," Andrew yelled back, "Smarter than most people, and I sit behind a freaking desk, answering phones! My girlfriend… my stupid cunt of a girlfriend left me for someone stupid. Some idiot who didn't even know the difference between alpha particles and beta particles."

"Please don't tell me…" Dean started, a disgusted look on his face, "You don't… ew!"

"That's necrophilia," Sam's face mirroring Dean's disgust.

"You don't appreciate the beauty of my work," Andrew said haughtily, hurt in his eyes and voice. Both brothers frowned, "Tinny!" a young girl appeared from behind a door, "Watch them."

"This is disgusting," Dean turned towards him, "That man is a monster! He creates a whole army of freaking zombie-sex-dolls because he's frustrated with his ex-girlfriend and himself?" he turned towards the bars and yelled, "Get a life!"

"Dean," Sam hissed.

"People," Dean shook his head, "They're crazy. I'll never get them."

Sam nodded and rested his head against the wooden wall behind him.

"You okay Sammy?" Sam nodded. Both brothers fell silent and Sam closed his eyes, hoping his headache would go away with some sleep. He was surprised at the sudden pressure against the side of his body and opened his eyes slightly to watch Dean as he sat down next to him, their bodies pressed against each other. He smiled, resisted the urge to drop his head on his brother's shoulder. He had missed these rare moments of affection. Those moments when no-chick-flick-moments-Dean showed his soft side.

"Sam," his body tensed as the soft whisper reached his ears. He pressed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see when he'd open them. A sudden dread filled his body, paralyzed his heart and his limbs. He could feel his hands shaking in his lap, and he made fists, trying to keep the trembling under control.

"Sam," the whisperer repeated, "Open your eyes, look at me."

"No," he breathed. A soft sigh floated towards him and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He never could ignore that voice. Slowly, he opened his eyes, glancing from side to side. Dean had fallen asleep next to him, his chin resting on his chest. His light snores filled their cell.

"Sam!"

No longer able to ignore the voice, he turned his head towards her. An angel was standing on the other side of his cell. Her long blond hair was dancing around her shoulders as if there was a slight breeze in the room. Her beautiful eyes softened when they made eye-contact, her full red lips curling upwards in a smile.

"Jess," he breathed.

"Sam," she whispered, pressing her body against the bars, her slim arm reaching out towards him. She breathed in sharply when she couldn't reach him, rested her head against the cold metal, "Sam."

"Jess," he shook his head, pressed his hands against his face, "You're not real."

"But I am," her voice sounded like a spark of fire in the dark night, "I'm right here baby."

He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears, "Haven't you ruined her image enough?"

"What happened to you, Sam?" she asked softly. Sam took a sharp intake of breath.

"You died," desperation flooded through him, "In the fire, because of me."

"Not because of you," she said, "Never because of you."

A tear slid down his face and he sniffled. Dean shifted in his sleep but didn't wake up.

"I miss you, Jess," he choked out. She started to cry, big fat tears running down her cheeks.

"I miss you too," she blubbered, her hand groping air in an effort to reach him. He fell forward with a pained, longing cry, and grabbed her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it, cherish it. He pressed his forehead against hers and they cried together, holding hands. Their lips found each other and they kissed, their mouths desperate for each other.

A burning smell reached his nose.

He frowned and opened his eyes. Couldn't breathe.

Jess' hair was on fire, the flames licking away at the tips, climbing its way up to her roots. She cried out in pain and he tried to back away from the flames and the heat, away from her.

"No!" she yelled angrily, "Don't leave me alone! Don't leave me!"

The grip on his hand became painful, nearly crushing his fingers.

"Jess," he cried, wincing, "let me go!"

"NO!" her voice was gravelly and the fire spread to her clothes, her skin bubbling angry red, "You left me last time. Not again. Never again."

He tried to pull himself away from her, but she didn't let go, pulled him closer instead.

"If I burn," she whispered, her smoky breath in his face, "You'll burn with me."

"Jess," he pleaded, "please."

The fire consuming her, spread to him and he cried out in pain as it ate away his clothes and hair. He bucked, slamming his body against the metal bars and floor, hoping to put the fire out. Instead, a spark jumped to the wood surrounding him and it ignited with a whoosh, the angry flames spreading as if the walls were soaked in gas.

"Dean!" he screamed, "Dean, wake up!"

And wake up he did. Dean jumped up with a scream, but the fire had already gotten a taste of him. He jumped around like a mad man on fire, screaming and cursing. The heat was unbearable.

He punched Jess in her face, but other than lose some of her burnt skin, she didn't bulge. She screamed at him, spittle flying in his face, burning hot. Dean bumped into him and fell to the floor, convulsing while the flames ate him. His painful screams slowly died out and then the convulsing stopped as well. Sam's heart froze, the roar from the blood in his ears almost as loud as the roar of the flames.

"Jess," he whispered, "please."

"I'm not a monster," she whispered and for a moment he could see the old Jess under the flames, the Jess he'd loved. Then, she made a choked sound and sagged to the floor, the pressure of her hand falling away.

"No," he breathed, "Jess."

He clutched at her now limp hand, while the flames ate him alive. Everything he knew was replaced by inhuman pain, the smoke burning his lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

"I love you, Jess," he coughed, sagging against the metal bars. He looked at her blackened hand in his, brought it to his lips to kiss it and closed his eyes, "Goodbye, love."

"Sam!"

Someone was shaking him, but the fire was too hot.

"Sam! Wake up!"

The fire burnt through his veins and he screamed, his eyes popping open. Dean was hunched over him, a panicked look in his eyes. Sam was on fire, but the fire was invisible. It was inside of him, still eating at him.

"Sam?"

"He's coming."

Part one of the mystery is solved :D And it wasn't even supernatural, it was science. Which I've always sucked at, so if the scientific explanation makes no sence... use your imagination :p I did ;)

I love writing these hallucinations/nightmares so much ^^ They're way more fun than the regular timeline ^^

Some totally random college stuff: I had my first genderstudies class and I freaking LOVED it! I won a pack of waffles because I knew to answer to my professor's question ;) best prof EVER ^^

Lots of love!

- Lune x