What are you more afraid of, Winchester? Losing, or losing your brother? Dean knew he couldn't answer that question; he never would be able to. He couldn't help but remember Bobby asking him the same question after obtaining the rings of the Four Horsemen; even then, he hadn't been capable of giving an answer. Being faced with the same, impossible, daunting question now, nothing had changed. If anything, he was terrified of the possibility of losing Sam, if he hadn't lost him already. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else, not after Bobby's sudden death last year, but Sarah and Barry didn't need to know the hell that was his life story.

"We're wasting our time with this shit," he said shortly. The longer we just sit here, the worse things are going to get. The worse Sammy is going to get if we don't find him.

"Then what the fuck do you want to do?" Barry demanded. "In case you forgot, Dean, we're in the middle of a war that will probably deep fry the planet if we don't do something!" Dean felt his temper spark again. Did Barry honestly expect him to know how to defeat the Dark Presence? He wasn't Alan! The Clicker was lost to the world, and the Dark Presence was causing chaos and devastation all over the world on an apocalyptic scale.

"I know what's going on, Wheeler," the hunter said menacingly. "I know what's at stake—"

"Do you?" he shot back. "Because, this entire time, your only concern has been for Sam! Sarah said it herself: There's a lot more at stake here than your brother's life. Why the hell won't you see that?" Dean's fists were clenched at his sides; his nails were digging into his palms and causing him to bleed. It was taking all his self-control not to lose his temper. United we stand, divided we fall. "It's like you're more than willing to let the Dark Presence win if it means finding your brother."

"I'm not going to sit here and debate this w—" A roar pierced the air, the earth moaning beneath their feet. The wind picked up, and Dean could feel the Dark Presence shifting its gaze upon him. It wasn't Barry nor Sarah it wanted; it was after him. There was the sound of footsteps nearby; Sarah quickly armed herself. If they were being ambushed by Taken, they had to be ready.

"Who's there?" she called out. Silence. They heard twigs snapping, and then a figure stepped out from the shadows. The man was not a Taken, but when Dean looked into his eyes, there was a crazed look about him.

"Oh my…holy shit," murmured Sarah. "Alan?"

"Wait, Alan Wake?" Dean exclaimed, lowering his gun. "I'll be damned." Alan smiled at them, but it was more of a smirk, a knowing smirk. Something's off.

"I'm back from the dead," he said, "but I was never really dead, though."

"Where have you been, Al?" asked Barry. "The world thinks you're dead." Alan shook his head and gave a laugh, a short and cold chuckle. "Al? Are you…okay?" Dean tried making eye contact with Sarah, but she was too focused on Alan. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong about him.

"Oh, I'm just fine." Alan outstretched his palm, and Barry and Sarah went flying backwards. Shadows shrouded his body, and he turned his attention to Dean. With a mere flick of his hand, his revolver shot out of his hands.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded.

"I'm Alan Wake," he responded smugly, "the new and improved Alan, anyway." He smirked slightly. "I've decided to be nice today and spare those two for now. I like you, Dean."

"How the hell do you know who I am?"

"I've been watching you from the moment you arrived here in this shitty excuse for a town. I was planning on bathing this place in its own blood, but…the show's just started, buddy." He laughed. His laugh made Dean's blood run cold. It was the laugh of a madman; cold, and on the edge of insanity. "I'm just here to spice things up a bit." In his peripheral vision, Dean saw the sheriff and Wheeler lying unconscious.

"I suggest you get the hell out of my sight before I decorate the ground with your brains," he warned. Alan's facial expression quickly changed from a dangerous calm to murderous rage. His eyes were ablaze. Dean felt as if his windpipe was being crushed; he collapsed onto his knees, dropping his weapons, clutching at his throat and desperately gasping for oxygen.

Alan reached for the gun on the ground, before slamming it across his face. The last thing Dean saw was his wild, gleeful smile before everything went black.

Looking behind him, Sam could see the trail of destruction the tornado was leaving in its wake. Debris was being thrown about the woods; he'd narrowly avoided being hit by a train car, a bus, and a gasoline truck trying to escape the Dark Presence's sudden onslaught. He was a great distance away from it now, but it still haunted him. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but wonder if Dean was okay—if he was still alive. Had Zane spoken with him? If he knew his brother was alive…

Don't get your hopes up, Sam, he told himself. He couldn't call Dean or vice versa; his phone was most likely dead. All he could do was hope he was okay and try to make his way to him. Sam looked about him, taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of the street; destroyed cars and other debris—presumably from the twister—were scattered everywhere. It was an unsettling sight, the dead silence hanging in the atmosphere. Sam couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The tremors were becoming more and more profound, the tornados more frequent. He swore he could feel the Dark Presence in the atmosphere, but perhaps it was only his growing apprehension. He had to find his way back to town and figure out his next move. Sheriff Breaker and Wheeler, he knew, had escaped the Dark Presence's assault on the station. They had to still be out there. Dean had to still be out there. He knew they couldn't fight the Dark Presence on their own, and he knew that Zane couldn't help them. Alan was dead. It was already turning into a losing battle. Up ahead, Sam could see the beckoning lights of the town. They promised safety and replenishment; maybe he could find a phone and try to contact Sheriff Breaker. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the Impala, lying on the side of the road. He climbed into the car, fired up the engine, and sped towards the heart of Bright Falls.

When he finally made it into town, he was surprised to see cop cars speeding down the street, a chopper just up ahead. What the hell is going on? He climbed out of the car, anda pit dropped in Sam's stomach when it dawned upon him. They'd gotten reports of "terrorist activities" and were allegedly after a crime ring, not a monstrous presence. He had to contact Sheriff Breaker; she was the only one who would be able to halt their intervention before the Dark Presence killed them all, but there was no way he could call her or vice versa. This has to work, he prayed, and whipped out his cell phone, dialing 911.

"Bright Falls Sheriff Station, what's your emergency?" the operator asked him. Sam was surprised to receive a response; the building had been consumed and destroyed by the Dark Presence. The survivors must be trying to keep things running, he thought to himself. It's only luck that they aren't dead nor Taken.

"I need to speak with Sheriff Breaker," said Sam. "It's urgent."

"Sheriff Breaker isn't here at the station," she responded. "She's out on duty at the moment—" Sam swore quietly to himself.

"Radio her, then!" he nearly shouted. "Your backup is going to get themselves killed out there unless I can talk to her!" His words were drowned out as a screech pierced the air. The earth sighed, and trees fell like dominoes. Shadows swept over an abandoned vehicle, and it rose into the air, twitching spastically. The car was cloaked in darkness, and with impossible force, it lurched at him. He threw himself out of the way with a shout, just barely missing the crushing blow.

"Sir, sir, are you alright? What's going on?"

"Radio Sheriff Breaker, and tell her that her backup is going on a suicide intervention! If they try to fight this thing, they are going to die!"

"Sir—"

"Trust me on this!" Sam barked. "Tell her that it's Sam Winchester and warn her about her backup." He killed the connection, stuffing his phone back into his pocket just as the car hurled itself at him once again. Sam drew his flashlight, aiming the beam of light at the possessed vehicle, burning away the darkness that protected it before it disappeared entirely. What the hell was that?

Alan stared at his father, several emotions swirling inside him. Are you in, or are you out? His intuition was telling him that trusting Nathaniel was his only way out of the Dark Place. He'd written himself an ally to help him, but he hadn't been expecting his friend to take the shape of his father. When Barry had manifested, it had been a figment of his own mind. It was the only plausible explanation for Nathaniel's presence. At the same time, Alan was consumed by anger towards his father for abandoning him and his mother with no explanation. Not once had he contacted them in the years after his departure. For so long, the man had been dead to him. A man who was so afraid of facing his family and mistakes that he deserted them. He'd feigned nonchalance in an attempt to bury his feelings, but now it was all rushing back to him in one emotion: anger and resentment. It didn't matter that his father's appearance was a manifestation of his own inner turmoil. Real or not, he couldn't face the man. He didn't think he would ever be able to if they crossed paths in the real world.

"Alan, answer the question," his father said, breaking through his reverie. "Are you with me, or not?" He met his eyes, unflinching. "I'm your only chance to get out of this place, and we both know it."

Alan hesitated. He couldn't deny the truth in his father's words. When he'd seen Barry, Barry had turned out to be his enemy who needed to be eliminated. There was no way he'd know if Nathaniel was of the same nature. If there was anything he'd learned in the Dark Place, it was to kill or be killed. He'd wanted to trust the manifestation of Barry, but it had almost cost him his life. If he made another error of judgment, he might not make it out of the Dark Place alive. He couldn't bring himself to fully trust Nathaniel, but did he have any other options? He had written himself a companion who knew the way through the Dark Place and could help him work his way through the manuscript. Regardless of his bitterness towards Nathaniel, he knew it would be pointless to go against the events portrayed in his manuscript. He had to force aside his animosity if he was to make his way back home. Something terrible was happening in the real world, and he had to get out of here so he could do something about it.

"I'm in," he said after several moments of silence.

"Do you trust me?" Nathaniel pressed. "If I'm getting you out of here, I'm going to need you to trust me completely."

"I trust that you will help me escape this place," Alan said coolly, "but no, I don't trust you. Not completely. You deserted me and Mom for no reason, Dad, and didn't bother to at least explain why you were leaving or say goodbye. It's been decades with no phone calls, no letters, nothing."

"I had my reasons, Alan."

"I'm sure you did," he said sourly. "Forget it, let's just find the way out of here."

"You're not escaping this place," a voice said from behind them. Alan and Nathaniel whirled around to see none other than Mr. Scratch.

"I thought I destroyed you," Alan growled, his gun raised. "How the hell are you even here?" Scratch smiled his devilish smile, clearly relishing Alan's anger and horror.

"Darkness works in great ways, buddy," he responded, and chuckled. "You know, I gave everyone quite the surprise. That little pest of yours, Barry Wheeler? You should've seen the look on his face, the sheriff's too."

"Stay the hell away from them."

"Oh, don't worry. I should be the least of your concerns," Scratch continued, circling Alan and his father. "Big Daddy's back in business, and there's nothing you can fucking do about it."

Big Daddy? A fresh wave of horror washed over him. Was he referring to the Dark Presence? No, no, no. This can't be happening.

"I killed you once," warned Alan. "I can do it again."

"We'll see about that." Instantly, the world exploded into shadows and darkness and everything went black.

"Sheriff Breaker, do you copy? Over!"

Silence.

"I repeat, do you copy over!"

Barry's head was pounding from the impact of slamming into the tree. He rose to his hands and knees and crawled over to Sarah, who was still unconscious. I'm probably going to regret this. He fumbled for her handheld transceiver and said, "It's Barry Wheeler. I'm with Sarah right now, but she's out cold."

"Fuck!" the woman on the other line barked.

"What's wrong?" Barry asked. "Why do you need Sheriff Breaker?"

"I need her to relay a message to the rest of the force," she explained.

"A message from whom?" he pressed.

"A man named Sam Winchester. Why does it matter to you?" Barry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Okay, okay. Sam's alive.

"Forget I—" He cut himself off when he heard the sound of ravens cawing. Dreading what was to come, he looked up ahead to see a flock of ravens swarming the chopper. The chopper reared violently, and the birds came at it again. Barry watched in shock as the birds assaulted the helicopter, and after mere moments, the chopper rapidly lost altitude. He thought he could feel the impact of the crash as it burst into a ball of flames. He didn't have time to recollect himself from the shock of the impact, as an unseen force caused the ground to shake and a black funnel touched the ground, sweeping up the police cars on the road and flinging them about. "Holy shit." The twister was much larger than any other he'd seen before, and it scared the hell out of him. How much stronger can this thing get?

"What is it?" she asked.

"I think your backup just got killed in action," Barry stammered.