Author's notes: violence and murder and Dean's POV. The epilogue is after this.

Part 20 - Dean, the slayer of nightmares

Dean knew the only way he could move forward was to end the cause of his nightmares. Maybe it wouldn't free him instantly, maybe he'd still have nightmares for days, weeks, maybe even months, but he knew with the knowledge of his-of the monster out there, it wasn't helping him any. So he had to do this. He took a deep breath, touched the gun clipped to his belt just to remind himself he was not coming in unarmed. He was Dean Singer, son of Bobby Singer who was murdered by his possessed wife.

He was Dean Singer, an expert hunter. He was Dean Singer, no longer a slave to his nightmares. He was a free man. He could feel his hands tremble as he drove up to the god forsaken house that he had nightmares about. He took a shuddering breath as he parked the truck on the curb. What was it that Sam taught him when he was on the verge of having a panic attack?

Right. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. One. He took another, exhaling even slower. Two. He continued to take breaths until he reached ten. He could do this. He was Dean Singer. He fought monsters, maybe not all his life like Sam, but people told him he was good. Sam even praised him once. He could do this.

He turned the engine off and unbuckled his seat-belt and then climbed out of the truck. He could imagine Nick sitting in nothing but his bathrobe, reading some stupid book that was above Dean's comprehension with that stupid sadistic grin on his face as he pat the top of his head like he was a goddamn dog.

"There, there, Dean-o. Just sit there and look pretty for your master. I didn't get into this relationship for your brain," Nick chuckled as he pet Dean's head.

Dean had bowed his head in shame, sniffling as tears started to spill. Nick had changed since they became more intimate between hunts. He liked humiliating Dean, liked taunting him about dropping out of high school to help Bobby with fixing cars. He liked making Dean feel inferior.

Dean shook off the flashback. It wasn't the time for that. He took another deep breath and took long, purposeful strides up the steps. He was going to put a stop to these motherfucking nightmares, or die trying. He took out the lock-pick he had stashed inside his boot and picked the door open. It swung wide and Dean walked in.

This is for the shit you made me endure because you're a sadistic freak, Dean thought as he took out his gun and swept the dark, empty room. He walked slowly up the winding stairs. He remembered having to kneel at the bottom, naked, submissive the way Nick liked. The waiting had always been the worst.

Dean walked to the bedroom and opened the door as quietly as he could. He opened it just wide enough for him to squeeze through without making a sound. Even through the darkness he could see the figure on the bed. He aimed his gun at the bed and flicked the light on.

Bright light flooded in and Dean had to blink a few times to adjust to the change. Nick shot awake and grabbed his gun from under his pillow. The asshole always had been paranoid but knowing the work they did, Dean really couldn't fault him. He watched as Nick blinked a couple times, the grogginess in his eyes fading as he looked around, before he finally saw Dean standing at the entrance with a gun aimed at his head.

A wide smile spread on his face as he took Dean in. "Well, well, looks like the mutt finally came back. Just as I predicted," Nick said.

"I didn't come back to continue our relationship," Dean snapped.

"So you're here to kill me then?" Nick asked, looking amused even with a gun pointed at his head.

Dean hated the way his hands trembled as he held the gun. What was wrong with him? He could end the nightmares right here. This was the reason he came back. Dean took a deep breath. He could feel his heart racing.

"You're not a killer, Dean-o. We both know this," Nick continued, noticing the weakness. Of course Nick knew all Dean's weaknesses. He always used them against Dean. He always won. But not this time. Not ever again.

Dean steadied his hand. "For me to be a killer, you'd have to be human first. You're a monster, Nick. Always have been." He pressed down, hard, putting all his strength in it and squeezed his eyes shut. The shot rang out, the sound vibrating through Dean's ears.

Dean opened his eyes to see Nick fall forward, a look of surprise on his face as Dean shot him in the head. It was over. It was finally over. Dean dropped the gun and slumped against the wall and curled into a ball, his arms wrapping protectively over his knees. He leaned his head on top, wondering what was going to happen now.

The neighbors probably heard the gun, it wasn't quiet and Nick's property was located in an upper class neighborhood. He used to brag about how rich his grandparents had been to Dean all the time. It was why he didn't care that he didn't get paid as a hunter. He had everything he would ever need passed down to him. Dean sighed, he could feel tears trying to slip through. He wasn't sure why he was crying.

It felt like he'd been sitting there for hours when Sam came barging in. Dean could hardly believe he was even there, looming over Dean like a giant. He crouched down in front of Dean and touched his head to Dean's. They were so close, Dean could smell the faint trace of shampoo and cigarettes.

"I killed the monster, Sammy," Dean whispered.

Sam nodded and touched his cheek. "You sure did, Dean."

"It was good, right? I did good?" Dean asked, feeling small and childish. He looked over to the slumped body with second thoughts.

"Yeah. You did real good," Sam agreed. They sat there quietly for a few minutes. Dean liked how Sam smelled, liked the feel of Sam. "We've got to get out of here, Dean."

Dean felt himself pulled up after a moment. He looked down and saw the gun he used, hesitating before bending over to pick it up. There was no way he was leaving it behind. Sam watched him as he put the safety back on and clipped back to his belt.

"I'm not a killer, am I?" Dean asked as he followed Sam out.

Sam smiled, his eyes softening as he glanced back at Dean. "No you're not, Dean." He climbed into the driver's side of the truck while Dean slid in on the other side. "We're going to hide the truck and then go to the impala."

"Did you follow me in the impala?" Dean asked curiously.

Sam nodded and peeled out of the neighborhood. They heard sirens in the distance. They drove off into the outskirts of town and dumped the truck. Dean frowned, realizing Sam had to walk a long way to follow him. They switched to the impala quickly.

"I put a tracker on your phone," Sam said when he noticed the confusion on Dean's face. "Plus I just got this hunch where you were going. Especially after last night."

Dean sighed. "I was that obvious?"

Sam snorted. "Can't get much more obvious than the note you left me."

"Right," Dean said. He remembered writing that note late last night when Sam was asleep, before slipping out. Part of him, he thought, wanted Sam to find him.

They drove through back-roads and Dean leaned against the window, watching the stars in the night sky. Sam would glance at him every so often, before they finally came to a stop on the side of a quiet country road, a large grassy field fenced off with an old looking farmhouse in the distance. Dean blinked as Sam killed the engine and unbuckled his seat-belt.

Dean followed suit and they both got out of the car. "What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Just figured it's a gorgeous night out. No clouds in sight and you can see the stars for miles," Sam replied, walking around the car to the trunk. He fished out a 6 pack of beer they bought earlier. "You like stargazing, don't you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam handed him a beer. "Yeah, I do. Thanks." He twisted the cap off and watched as Sam took out a beer and did the same. "I thought you don't drink."

"I don't usually. But this is a special occasion," Sam said before downing half the beer.

Dean grinned as Sam came up for breath, coughing. "Yeah you're definitely not much of a drinker," he said and chugged his own beer.

Dean looked up at the stars. Nights like these made hunting worth it to him. "I've been thinking about, uh, this thing between us," Dean said slowly. He could feel Sam's eyes boring into his back.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd like to give it another shot, if you're willing to," Dean said.

"Of course," Sam said quickly.

"There will be a few conditions though," Dean continued. "Like I don't know if I can jump straight into a dom/sub relationship right away."

"I can wait," Sam told him.

Dean turned to look at Sam. "And I can't promise that it'll be easy. I'll get flashbacks and probably still have nightmares."

"I'll be here, Dean. I'll help you," Sam said calmly.

Dean smiled. "So you won't leave even if we have to take things slow for a while?"

"Of course I won't leave you," Sam scoffed, like he couldn't believe Dean actually said that. "I don't care how long I have to wait."

"Even if it takes years?" Dean pressed.

"Even if it takes years," Sam confirmed.

"Even if we grow up gray and old?"

"Even if we grow up gray and old," Sam laughed.

"Ok then," Dean said with a sigh.

"We're good?" Sam asked.

"We're good."

"Great. Wait here then," Sam said and rushed to the backseat. He came back with an old camera. Dean laughed.

"Really, Sam?"

"Really," Sam said seriously. He went to stand next to Dean, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Now smile, Dean."

The picture came out better than Dean expected. Dean had on his cheesiest smile, his green eyes sparkling with amusement as Sam pressed his cheek against his with an equally wide grin that seemed to light up his face with life and happiness. Dean sighed as they sat on the hood of the impala and watched the stars. He could say without a doubt this was the happiest he had ever been in a long, long time. Sitting here sharing a beer with Sam Winchester just felt right.