I woke in a cold sweat, wrestling with my sheets, fighting for my life. I tried to remember why I was scared. I squinted at my alarm clock on the night stand; it was 6:30 and the sun was already coming up.

I must have finally dozed off around five; I remembered looking at the clock at 4:30 and had tossed around for a while after that.

And then it hit me. Dread and fear and hope and nausea. I remembered what Sam had told me the night before, merely hours before. I remembered my nightmare, being pinned to the ceiling, fighting against an unknown force that held me there. Visions flooded my brain from the dream, so real I could almost feel the heat from the fire that had engulfed me just before I woke up.

My stomach rolled and heaved and I flew from the bed. I dry heaved in the bathroom, gripping the toilet seat and crying. When my stomach quieted, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then headed into the kitchen. I didn't even want to try to go back to sleep now for fear of another dream.

Dean was already in the kitchen going through my cabinets, his jeans hanging low on his hips and his chest bare. His short hair was tousled, obviously he just woke up, himself. Dean turned to me as I pulled out a chair. "You're up early."

I could only grunt in response. I took a deep breath, inhaling coffee and bacon.

"Mmm. You've been busy." I smiled and felt myself relax a little when Dean set a cup of hot coffee in front of me.

"And you look like hell."

I waved my hand at him, hoping he wouldn't press for details. "Just a bad dream." I got up and brought my coffee mug to the counter, fished out the bottle of Irish whiskey from on top of my fridge, and poured in a generous shot.

"One of those mornings, huh? I guess Sam told you about his dick of death, then?" Dean was suddenly behind me, one hand on the small of my back and the other reaching for the whiskey.

I felt the familiar drop of dread in the pit of my stomach. I felt my throat constrict and the blood drain from, well, from my entire body. My fingers and toes were suddenly ice cold and I felt dizzy.

I cleared my throat, testing my ability to talk. "His-" My voice squeaked and I tried again. "His 'dick of death'?" I gulped my spiked coffee, clanking it against the counter as I sat it down hastily.

Dean chuckled and helped me back to my chair. "Considering your parents were hunters, I thought you'd take this a little better."

I sat down and laid my head on my crossed arms. Dean pulled out a chair opposite me and ran his hand roughly down his face. "You're both being rediculous. You know that, right?"

I heaved a sigh and peered up at Dean. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm guessing your little nightmare had something to do with Sam coming clean, right? All his fears, all the truths... They all get jumbled up in his head. I mean, the kid feels responsible for a death just because he couldn't stop it. That kind of guilt can eat a guy up."

"What are you getting at?"

"Look. We're hunters. We're gonna see more death, friends are gonna die. But they're in the business, too. Occasionally there's a casualty. Like Mom. Like Jessica. But these things are killing people we don't know, people we've never met. Jess could've been on the hit list with or without Sammy. Sammy can't take the blame for everything."

I leaned back in my chair to watch Dean. "So you're saying-"

"I'm saying you're in to each other. Don't let Sammy's stupid guilt come between you. Besides. He'll need someone else to talk to... You know. Later..." Dean got up and moved to the stove. I watched the muscles in his back dance as he shuffled things around.

"Speaking of, it seems I owe you an ass chewing."

"No, you don't." Dean sat a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me, leaning in far too close for comfort. "Look. Sammy was dead. I found a way to get him back. End of story." Dean stood and went to the fridge, pulling out the Orange juice, jelly, and butter. "Eat your shit before it gets cold."

I hadn't even realized I wasn't eating before he called me on it. I stared at my plate before tentatively taking a bite of eggs. I had nearly finished everything off before Sam came in.

Sam grabbed a coffee mug and poured himself a glass, immediately taking a sip. I was trying to be discreet, watching Sam out of the corner of my eye, but when Sam stretched and Dean had his back to me, I openly ogled. Sam's muscles rippled as he raised his hands over his head. His gym shorts dropped an inch and his back flexed and relaxed.

Apparently even the possibility of a death threat hanging over my head wouldn't cool my reaction to Sam.

I heard a clatter on the table and looked up to see Dean smirking at me. I quickly plated the fork that I had been subconsciously mouthing, my ears and cheeks hot.

"Well, gee. It looks like I have some work to do. Research or something. I'll see you kids later."

I glared at Dean as he patted Sam on the shoulder, and then me, before he grabbed his keys and walked out the door. I stared at the closed door for a minute, considering payback of some sort, before turning to Sam. He was standing with his hands resting on the chair back beside me. I felt myself gulp as I tried not to stare at his naked chest. As I tried not to run my fingers down his chiseled abs, tried not to think about licking my way up the tendons in his neck.

Sam pulled the chair out, eyeing me warily, and began to pick at his food.

"Hey, Sam, I-" Sam's head snapped up and he turned his chair to face me. "I mean, I-" Sam reached for my hand, instinctively knowing how to calm me. He scooted his chair closer, directly in front of me now.

"Haley, I know its not fair for me to ask you to forget about the risks, I just... I hoped that with your parents being hunters, maybe you could look past them a little better..."

I smiled and squeezed Sam's hands. "You have to let me talk. Sammy, I... I don't care. I mean. Dean had a good point-"

Sam sighed and dropped his head, looking down for a minute before raising only his eyes to look at me. "So Dean knows we talked about it?"

"Yes, but he approached me. I didn't go to him."

"What did he say? I'm sure he was completely blowing it off..."

"Well, yeah. But he had a point. I think maybe you're taking too much responsibility for what happens. Even I know that being a hunter... You're around death a lot more than the average person. It doesn't mean you're cursed. It just means you're unfortunate. I'm so sorry... About everything. But. I'm not worried about it, really. I'm in."

A/N: So what did you think? Good? bad? Indifferent? Thanks for reading and taking the time to leave a review... Because I know you will... :)