Title: Nap

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #1 Ice

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 857

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

"Bags under your eyes aren't a good look for you, Dean. You need to get more sleep, dude."

Dean forced himself to smile at Sam, his sweet ignorant brother.

Then, it happened.

"You're not thinking about...Alastair, are you?"

Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Trying not to."

Just drop it, Sammy...

Sam went silent.

Alastair now occupied a permanent space in Dean's brain. He was like a video rewinding over and over again; his own personal horror movie.

Alastair was composed of pain. He was nothing but pain. Still to this day, Dean could see the demon covered with slick red blood with a chorus of screams surrounding him; all teeth evenly displayed as the knife dug into his shoulder. Under his eyes, Dean no longer felt human but instead all too weak flesh and a map of labeled organs.

Dean hated him. Words could not express how much he hated the demon who had made him beg and whimper like a puppy.

All of this he couldn't convey to Sam. Even though he'd been through his own personal issues with Azazel, Dean suspected he wouldn't be much help here.

Sam finally spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Now's not a good time."

Sam couldn't understand the guilt. The agony. Emotions that he could never share with another person.

First, he was his father's project. Then, he became Alastair's. Had he ever been his own man? For once in his pathetic existence?

Dean's eyes focused on the ribbon of road as he drove into the rising sun.

Dean tuned out for the rest of the day. He stopped at the first restaurant he saw and ordered a bacon cheeseburger, steak fries, and a slice of apple pie with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top before opting out to sit out on a lonely bench in a nearby park. Sam had discovered a library and would be there for quite a while.

At first, his eyes scanned the park and listened to the birdsong in the afternoon sunlight, but soon, Dean's eyelids grew heavy. He hadn't slept last night, and he was feeling it.

Suddenly, Dean opened his eyes to inky blackness and his mind reeled.

I...slept until nightfall.

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had let him sleep. Or what if something happened to him? Dean wouldn't put it past Alastair to abduct him.

He attempted to get up, but found himself restrained by a strong arm.

"Hey, Deano."

Dean's blood went ice cold. He turned to see Alastair sitting there; white eyes glowing as bright as the moon.

"Didn't I promise that I would be back?" Alastair purred. He gazed up at the stars. "What a beautiful night. A night for reunions."

Dean was mute with fear.

Alastair eyes shifted back to Dean. "A perfect night for lovers."

Dean was as frozen as a mouse in the claws of a cat.

"Shy, Dean? Unwilling again? Did you know that's how I like you best?"

Alastair dug his nails in his arm until Dean yelped in pain and could feel the blood trickling down.

"You're not here right now," he gasped. "I'm dreaming."

Alastair nodded. "Possibly. I am in your head after all."

How did he...?

This was wrong. Too casual. Alastair, in a public park, after Dean had fallen asleep. Another unlikely event. Something didn't add up.

"It's time to go, Dean. I've waited for you long enough."

Dean was suddenly struggling; digging in his jacket for his gun. Trying to get out of Alastair's death grip.

"Hell has missed you so much Dean. And so have I." Alastair displayed blood-stained teeth. In the fiend's gaze, Dean could see himself being dragged back into the pit.

I don't want to go!

Alastair's laughter reverberated around him as Dean pushed, clawed, and fought...

"Dean? Dean! What's wrong?"

Dean realized that he was fighting his brother.

"What time is it?" Dean rubbed his eyes.

"4:16. You've been out here for over three hours, Dean." The question was in Sam's eyes. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Something bad." Dean ran his hand through his hair.

"Something like...hell bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sam blinked. "Okay."

Dean felt remorse, but swallowed it. Damn Sam and his useless questions. Hadn't he already explained it to him?

Had it really been just a nightmare? Or was it just a warning? Dean didn't want to find out.

"So...can we go?"

Dean nodded.

The problem was Dean wanted to stay put; hold onto the present reality between his fingers and not let go. He feared what was down the road in the future.

Dean stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of stout scotch worth at least forty-five dollars; a sum large enough to widen Sam's eyes. It was at least seventy proof, and Dean bought it without remorse. It would do the job.

"That's enough, Dean." Sam snapped at him after filling his fourth shot.

The shot glass banged against the counter.

"I need to sleep, Sammy."

He couldn't live the rest of his life this way.