January 16th - January 21st, 2008
Sam decided to go out for a little bit on his own, but after a while and a few missed calls, Dean started to worry and left to go find him.
While they were gone, I decided to watch some TV, so I flipped through the channels and eventually stopped when I landed on an 80s movie. They were some of my favorites to watch with Dean, and it looked like one I had never watched before. For a while, it seemed like a typical 80s movie until the kids went to sleep. In their dreams, they started getting chased by a burned man who wore a dirty, striped sweater and a glove with knives attached to it. During the commercials, the channel kept announcing that it was running a Nightmare on Elm Street marathon, so I figured it would pass some time.
"No!" I yelled as Freddy killed Nancy. "I know you're the villain but show her some respect! She survived for three movies!" I jumped as the door opened.
"Maddi, we gotta go. Get packed up," Dean said as he entered, followed by Sam, who was stumbling around.
"Why, what's going on?" I asked as I got up and switched the TV off.
Dean sighed. "Bobby's in the hospital."
"What?!" I asked as I quickly started shoving my things into my bag.
"Yeah, they didn't tell me much more than that," Dean said.
I continued packing as Sam stumbled and sat down on the bed, basically falling down.
I furrowed my brow. "What's wrong with him?"
"Uh, a little too much whiskey," Dean said.
"Oh, uh, okay..." I zipped my bag. "Let's go."
After a few hours, we made it to Pittsburgh and found the hospital. We were escorted to Bobby's room by his doctor.
Bobby was just lying there, unconscious, attached to several machines.
"So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked.
"We've tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy," the doctor said.
"Except that he's comatose?" Dean asked, sarcastically.
"Mr. Snyderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?" the doctor asked.
Dean shook his head. "No, he— he never gets sick." He shrugged. "I mean, he doesn't even catch cold."
"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" Sam asked.
The doctor sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it... so we don't know how to treat it. He just... went to sleep and didn't wake up."
The three of us stared at Bobby for a moment and then parted ways with the doctor.
"So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked as we walked through Bobby's motel room door.
"I don't know unless he's taking an extremely lame vacation," Dean said and shut the door behind us.
"I mean, he must have been working a job, right?" Sam asked.
"Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign of something, ya know?" Dean asked.
"It's creepily empty," I said, as I looked around the room, it had no sign that anybody had been living in it.
Dean walked over to one of the drawers and opened it. "Yeah, no research, news clippings..."
Sam turned to the closet.
"Or a friggin' pizza box or a beer can," Dean said.
Sam opened the closet and looked inside. "How 'bout this?"
Dean and I walked over to Sam, but the closet just had Bobby's clothes hanging inside it.
I shrugged. "What?"
Sam moved the clothes out of the way to reveal news clippings, maps, and pictures attached to the wall.
Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks."
Sam shook his head. "You make heads or tails of any of this?"
Dean pulled one of the papers off of the wall and read it, "'Capensis,' which, of course, means absolutely nothing to me."
"Here." Sam leaned forward and grabbed something else off of the wall. "Obit." He started reading, "'Dr. Walter Gregg, sixty-four, university neurologist.'"
"How'd he bite it?" Dean asked.
"Um..." Sam shrugged. "Actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up."
"That sounds a little too familiar." I sighed.
"All right, um... so, let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death," Sam said, "You know, hunting after something—"
Dean nodded. "That started hunting him."
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"All right, stay here." Dean pointed to Sam and me. "See if you two can make heads or tails of this."
"What are you gonna do?" Sam asked.
"I'm gonna look into the good doctor myself," Dean said and then left the room.
Eventually, Sam and I figured out that Silene Capensis is also known as African Dream Root, and legends said that it allowed the consumer to dream walk.
Ring! Ring!
Sam answered his phone, "Find anything?" (...) He raised his eyebrows. "Wow, seriously?" (...) "Sounds like the doc got involved in something he shouldn't." (...) "All right, see you there."
"What?" I asked as soon as Sam hung up his phone.
"Dr. Gregg had been running a sleep study. Apparently, while the students slept, he would experiment on them to make them have extremely vivid dreams," Sam explained.
"Was he using the Dream Root?" I asked.
Sam nodded. "Probably, but let's go meet Dean."
Thankfully, the walk to the hospital wasn't too far, and we made it there in about twenty minutes.
When we made our way to Bobby's room, Dean was sitting next to his bed, so we walked in.
"How is he?" Sam asked.
Dean looked back at us and shook his head. "No change. What you got?"
Sam set a file down on a table, and Dean got up and joined us.
"Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments..." Sam sighed. "Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense."
"How so?" Dean asked.
Sam handed Dean a picture of the African Dream Root. "This plant, Silene Capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries."
"Let me guess. They dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, start kicking around the hackey," Dean said.
Sam shook his head. "Not quite. If you believe the legends—"
"It's used for dream walking," I said.
Dean raised his brow.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads."
"I take it, we believe the legends," Dean said.
"When don't we?" Sam asked. "But dream walking is just the tip of the iceberg."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"I mean, this Dream Root is some serious mojo," Sam said, "You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger."
I shivered at the thought.
"You can control anything," Sam said, "You could turn bad dreams good. you could turn good dreams bad."
"And killing people in their sleep?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "For example."
Dean sighed and shook his head.
"So, let's say uh— let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style," Sam said.
Dean nodded. "Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night."
"But what about Bobby?" Sam asked, "I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know."
We looked at Bobby one last time and then left his room.
"So, how do we find our homicidal sandman?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Could be anyone."
"Yeah?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"Anyone who knew the doctor had access to his dream shrooms," Dean said.
"Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean... I don't know how many subjects he had or who all of them were."
Sam scoffed.
"What?" Dean asked.
Sam sighed. "In any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now."
Dean suddenly stopped Sam and me from walking. "Ya know what? You're right."
"What?" Sam asked.
"Let's go talk to him," Dean said.
Sam and I gave Dean a look of confusion.
Sam shrugged. "Sure. I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided."
Dean shook his head. "Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root."
Sam furrowed his brow. "What?"
"You heard me," Dean said.
"You wanna go dream walking inside Bobby's head?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Why not? Maybe we could help."
"We have no idea what's crawling around in there," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "Well, how bad could it be?"
"Bad," Sam said.
"Dude, it's Bobby," Dean said.
Sam thought for a second. "Yeah, you're right." He scoffed. "One problem, though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know someone who can score some—"
Dean shook his head. "Crap."
"What?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed. "Bela."
"Bela?" Sam scoffed. "Crap. You're actually suggesting we ask her a favor?"
"I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but yeah," Dean said and then started walking again.
Back at the motel, we sat down to do some more research, but not long after, Sam fell asleep. I decided to take a break and jump in the shower, but when I walked out, Dean was on the phone.
"Don't know why I bothered calling." (...) Dean rolled his eyes. "Figured you wouldn't be any help anyway." He hung up his phone and slammed it down on the table.
"Bela?" I asked as I sat down on the bed next to him.
He nodded.
I shrugged. "So, now what?"
He sighed. "We're back to square one, kid."
Eventually, Sam started moaning and twitching as he slept. Dean and I gave each other a look. I got up to check on him, but when I walked over, he was drooling and smiling.
I jumped back as he let out a loud moan. "Okay, he's creeping me out." I went over and sat next to Dean.
Dean laughed. "Sam!"
Sam jumped awake and quickly wiped his face, looking around the room, confused.
"Dude, you were out. And making some serious happy noises." Dean smirked.
Sam quickly looked away and faced forward at the desk.
"Who were you dreaming about?" Dean asked.
"What?" Sam asked quickly. "No one. Nothing."
"Come on, you can tell me," Dean encouraged, "Angelina Jolie?"
"No," Sam said quickly.
"Brad Pitt?" Dean asked.
Sam turned suddenly. "No. No!" He shook his head. "Dude, it doesn't matter."
"Whatever." Dean shrugged. "I called Bela."
Sam cleared his throat. "Bela?" A smile flashed on his face, and then he hid it away quickly. "Yeah? She— What'd she... ya know, say? She... gonna... help us?"
"Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one. We've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do," Dean said.
Sam nodded and looked away.
"You gonna come help us with this stuff?" Dean asked.
Sam looked down but didn't move. "Yeah."
"Are you okay?" I asked.
He shifted around uncomfortably, still looking down. "Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec."
I looked over at Dean, concerned, but he was smirking at Sam. I looked around the room uncomfortably, waiting for Sam.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Dean got up and peered out of the peephole. Then he opened the door, allowing Bela to walk in.
"Bela. As I live and breathe," Dean said irritated.
Sam spun around and swallowed hard.
"You called me. Remember?" Bela said.
Dean nodded. "I remember you turning me down."
Bela shrugged. "Well, I'm just full of surprises." She looked over at Sam and smiled.
Sam didn't get up, but he waved and nodded awkwardly at her. "Hey, Bela. What's going on?"
"I brought you your African Dream Root," Bela said and handed a jar to Dean. "Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by."
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Dean asked.
Bela shrugged. "What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?"
"I mean, it's not really your MO," I said.
She looked over at me and smirked.
"Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them," Dean said.
"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?" Bela asked.
Dean nodded.
Bela shrugged. "Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you."
Dean furrowed his brow. "Bobby? Why?"
"He saved my life once." Bela sighed. "In Flagstaff."
Dean looked at Sam and me, but we just shrugged.
"I screwed up, and he saved me, okay?" Bela snapped. "You satisfied?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe." He peered into the jar.
"So, when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?" Bela asked.
Dean shook his head. "Oh, you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head. No offense." He walked over and put the jar in the wall safe with the colt.
"None taken," Bela said.
Dean walked over to her after locking the safe.
"It's 2AM. Where am I supposed to go?" Bela asked, now annoyed.
Dean shrugged. "Get a room. Uh, they got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it."
Bela glared at him and shook her head. "You..." She grabbed her bag and stormed to the door.
Sam quickly jumped up. "Nice to see— seeing you..."
She didn't look back and slammed the door on her way out.
"Bela," Sam said.
Dean and I turned to him with confused expressions on our faces. Sam shrugged uncomfortably and then walked past us, quickly getting to work on the Dream Root.
About twenty minutes later, Sam walked over to the beds where Dean and I were sitting with two cups. He handed one to Dean and then sat down on the bed with me.
"Where's mine?" I asked, disappointed.
Dean peered around Sam. "You aren't drinking this stuff."
I furrowed my brow. "Why not?"
"We don't know what it does," Dean said.
"Yeah?" I nodded. "You're doing it."
Dean sighed. "Maddison... can you just... please."
I crossed my arms. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Dean said with a straight face.
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
Dean turned his attention to Sam. "All right. Uh, should we dim the lights and sync up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?"
"Why?" Sam asked.
Dean looked at him with disappointment. "What did you do during college?" He shook his head and went to drink the liquid.
Sam put his hand over the opening of the cup. "Wait, wait, wait. Whoa. Can't forget this."
Dean stopped and looked at Sam as he pulled an envelope out of his pocket.
"Here," Sam said. He reached in the envelope and dropped the contents in Dean's hand.
"What the hell is that?" Dean asked as he peered down at his hand.
"Bobby's hair," Sam said.
"We have to drink Bobby's hair?" Dean asked in disgust.
"That's how you control whose dream you're entering. You gotta... drink some of their uh—" Sam cleared his throat. "Some of their body."
Dean shrugged. "Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body."
They both put the hair into their cups with a look of disgust.
"Bottoms up," Dean said.
"Yeah." Sam nodded as they clinked their cups together.
They put the cups to their mouths and started drinking, but halfway through, they instantly fell back onto the beds and dropped their cups.
I jumped up and saw that the cups still had some liquid in them. I thought for a second and then picked them up. I poured the liquid into one cup and then looked at Dean for a moment before I drank it myself.
I waited for a second but was disappointed when nothing happened. I sighed and turned to sit down and watch some TV, but as I did, the room faded into something else. I was now standing in an oddly familiar room, but I couldn't figure out how I knew it.
"Okay, I don't know what's weirder... the fact that we're in Bobby's head... or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens," Dean said from behind me.
I spun around to see Sam and Dean now standing, facing away from me, and looking around the room.
Then it struck me how I knew this place. "Oh, wow. Bobby's house looks so different."
Dean swung around. "What the hell?!"
Sam looked over at me and then looked around the room. "Oh, yeah. You're right."
Dean shot Sam a look. "Really, dude?"
I shrugged. "You can't actually be that surprised."
Dean rolled his eyes at me and then looked back over at Sam for some backup.
Sam just smirked and shrugged. "I mean, she's here, and there's nothing we can do about it now. But look. She's right. Imagine the place, uh, without the paint job." He gestured around the room. "More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place."
"Yeah, all right," Dean said, still annoyed. "It's Bobby's house."
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"Bobby?!" Dean called out.
Sam walked over to the stairs and called up, "Bobby?!" He turned back to Dean and me. "Dean?"
Dean turned and nodded his head.
"I'm gonna go look outside," Sam said.
Dean shook his head. "No, no, no, stay close."
"Dude, I'll be fine. Just look around in here." Sam shrugged. "Look, we gotta find him."
Dean sighed. "Don't do anything stupid."
Sam nodded and walked outside.
"Come on, let's find him," Dean said and then opened the doors leading into the kitchen. "Bobby?" He walked into the hallway. "Bobby!" He suddenly spun and looked down the hallway to a door at the very end as if he heard something.
"What?" I whispered.
Dean stared at the door for a second longer. "Uh, nothing."
"Who's out there?" Bobby whispered through the door behind us, and we spun around.
As we approached the door, we realized there were long scratch marks on it.
Dean ran his fingers along the scratches as he went for the doorknob. "Bobby, you in there?"
"Dean?" Bobby asked, almost sounding terrified.
"Yeah. It's me. Open up," Dean encouraged.
Bobby opened the door and stepped past us, shakily looking for something. He had scratches on his cheek and nose and looked terrified.
"Hey," Dean said.
Bobby moved to the opening of the kitchen and peered around the wall. "How in the hell did you find me?"
"We got our hands on some of that Dream Root stuff," Dean explained.
"Dream Root? What?" Bobby asked.
"Dr. Gregg? The experiments?" Dean asked.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked, terrified.
The lights started to flicker, and Bobby looked around in a panic. "Hurry." He turned and ran toward the closet again.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean grabbed his arm to stop him. "What's going on?"
Bobby tried to pull away. "She's coming."
"Okay, you know this is a dream, don't you?" Dean asked, now holding onto the front of Bobby's shirt.
"Wh— What are you, crazy?" Bobby stuttered.
"It's a dream, Bobby! None of this is real!" Dean shouted.
Bobby lifted his hand slowly and pointed behind Dean and me. "Does that look made-up?"
Dean and I turned to see a woman walking down the hallway. She was wearing a white dress and had bloody open wounds on her neck and chest. The door suddenly slammed behind Bobby, which caused him to turn and start rattling the doorknob.
"Bobby, who is that?" Dean asked.
Bobby now had tears in his eyes. "She's— She's my wife."
Then the story that he had told me about her hit me, and it was starting to make sense.
"Why, Bobby?" The woman whimpered. "Why did you do this to me?"
"I'd rather die myself than hurt you," Bobby said.
"But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me. Again and again. You watched me bleed... watched me die." She cried.
Dean put his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Bobby, she's not real."
"How could you?" she asked.
"You were possessed, baby," Bobby said, nearly crying. "You were rabid. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you."
"You're lying. You wanted me dead! If you'd loved me, you would've found a way!" She screamed.
"I'm sorry." Bobby sobbed.
Dean pulled Bobby back. "Come on!" He led us into the living room and shut the doors behind us.
Bobby's wife screamed and started slamming and pounding on the doors.
Dean leaned against the door as she continued to pound. "I'm telling you, all of it. Your house, your wife, it's a nightmare!" He leaned over and grabbed a wire off of a desk, and tied it around the door handles.
"I killed her." Bobby cried.
"Bobby!" Dean yelled. "This is your dream. And you can wake up. I mean, hell, you can do anything."
"Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already," Bobby pleaded.
Dean walked up and grabbed the front of Bobby's shirt. "Look at me. You gotta snap out of this now! You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna let you die. You're like a father to me. You gotta believe me, please."
Bobby's gaze drifted back to the doors as his wife continued to scream and pound on them.
"Bobby! It's all true! Please listen to him!" I shouted.
Bobby turned back to look at Dean and me. "I'm dreaming?"
"Yes!" Dean shouted. "Now, take control of it."
Bobby looked back at the doors and closed his eyes tightly. Suddenly the screaming and banging stopped.
Dean let go of him and walked to the doors to remove the wires. As he opened the doors, they revealed that the kitchen was completely empty.
"I don't believe it," Bobby said, astounded.
Dean turned to him. "Believe it. Now would you please wake up?"
Suddenly, Sam, Dean, and I sat up quickly, back in the motel room.
Then we rushed off to see Bobby at the hospital. We had brought all of the research with us, and when we got there, Sam told us about what he experienced while in Bobby's dream.
He had a run-in with a man, claiming to be a god while in the dream world. He was the reason people were dying and the reason Bobby had been in a coma. Dean said that Sam's description of him sounded like one of the doctor's test subjects he had met, so Sam went to find him.
Dean and I stayed behind and quietly looked through research with Bobby for a while.
"Hey, Bobby. That, uh— That stuff— All that stuff with your wife?" Dean asked.
Bobby looked up at him.
Dean cleared his throat. "That actually happen?"
Bobby shrugged. "Everybody got into hunting somehow."
Dean nodded. "I'm sorry."
Bobby shook his head. "Don't be sorry. If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in there. Or dead." He nodded. "Thank you."
Sam walked in a moment later. "So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now."
Bobby shook his head. "He ain't much of a stoner."
"No?" Dean asked.
"No. His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is sayin' something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head," Bobby said as he flipped through some papers and picked one up. "Here's Father of the Year." He handed it to Sam. "He died before Jeremy was ten."
"Looks like a real sweetheart," Sam said as he examined the picture.
"Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand. He hasn't dreamt since," Bobby said.
"'Til he started dosing the dream drug," Dean said.
Bobby nodded. "Yup."
"How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA, or something?"
"Yeah," Dean said.
"Yeah..." Bobby shook his head. "Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest friggin' thing."
"Oh, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb." Dean laughed nervously.
Bobby, Sam, and I snapped our heads to look at him.
I shook my head. "Oh, no, really?"
"Dean, you didn't," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "I was thirsty."
"That's great." Sam snarled. "Now, he can come after either one of you."
"Well, now we just have to find him first," Dean said.
Bobby nodded. "We better work fast... and coffee up. Because the one thing we cannot do... is fall asleep."
It had been about two days since Bobby and Dean had gotten any sleep. We had been running around to every possible location Jeremy could be hanging out. Still, we were having no luck finding him. Somehow, we got Bela to help us out too. I wasn't sure why, but she agreed.
We were on our way back to the motel after leaving another location Jeremy could've been hiding. Dean had been huffing and puffing the whole way.
"I mean, this Jeremy guy's not a friggin' ghost. Where the hell could he be?!" Dean shouted.
"Dean, you sure you don't want me to drive?" Sam asked. "You seem a little—"
"Caffeinated?" I asked.
"Well, thanks for the news flash!" Dean yelled angrily.
"I mean, I don't understand how you could be tired. I got a nap in about an hour ago, and I feel fine," I joked.
Dean spun around and glared at me. "Are you—"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Oh, you are so lucky, little girl," Dean said as he pulled his phone out.
I smirked as he answered the call, "Tell me you got something!" (...) "Yeah." (...) "What the hell, Bobby?!" (...) "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just— I'm— I'm— I'm tired." (...) "What's Bela got?" (...) "Great! Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!" He flipped the phone shut and threw it next to him.
A few moments later, he pulled over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. "All right, that's it. I'm done."
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
Dean slid down in his seat and put his head back. "Taking myself a long... overdue nap."
"What?!" I yelled.
"Dean, Jeremy can come after you!" Sam shouted.
"That's the idea," Dean said.
"Excuse me?" Sam asked.
"Come on, man, we can't find him, so let him come to me," Dean said.
"On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?" Sam asked.
"I can handle it," Dean said.
"Not alone, you can't," Sam said as he reached over and pulled out some of Dean's hair.
"Ow!" Dean shouted, and he grabbed his head. "What are you doing?"
"Comin' in with you," Sam said.
Dean shook his head. "No, you're not."
"Why not?" Sam asked. "At least then it'll be two against one."
Dean hesitated. "'Cause I don't want you digging around in my head."
"Too bad," Sam said and then got to work making the mixture.
Dean sighed and pointed back at me. "Make sure she stays out of it this time." Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Sam smirked and then started drinking the Dream Root. As soon as he passed out, I lunged forward before the cup could spill the rest of its contents.
I looked at Dean, shrugged, and then finished off the cup, but this time I felt myself get drowsy and fall asleep.
When I woke up, the three of us were still in the car, exactly where we had started.
Sam suddenly jerked awake. "Dean." He hit his arm.
Dean jolted awake. "Jeez. For the love of god." He looked around. "What are we still doing here?"
Sam shook his head. "I have no idea."
Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Well, Maddi's still here, so hopefully that means it didn't work."
I nodded, letting him think that I didn't do anything, but then there was a sound outside.
Sam squinted out of the front window. "There's someone out there."
As soon as we started walking, Dream a Little Dream of Me by Doris Day played softly through the woods. A small spot in a clearing lit up, and Lisa appeared, sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket.
"Hey." Lisa smiled up at Dean. "You gonna sit down?" She had a glass of red wine in her hand and lifted a second one, extending it to him. "Come on. We only have an hour before we have to pick Ben up from baseball."
"You did drink it, didn't you?" Dean grumbled at me.
I shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? Or does this normally happen in your everyday life?"
Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean a look.
"I've never had this dream before." Dean laughed awkwardly.
"Mm-hmm." I smirked.
"Stop looking at me like that," Dean said, almost embarrassed.
"Sorry." Sam shrugged.
"Dean. I love you." Lisa smiled, but then her image shook, and everything, including the music, disappeared.
Dean spun around, looking for her. "Where'd she go?"
Sam and I turned and looked through the woods as well, but I didn't see anything.
"Dean," Sam said and then took off running.
Dean and I chased after him, and then I realized he was running after Jeremy.
A few moments later, something felt off, and I turned to see that Dean was no longer right behind me.
"Sam! Wait!" I yelled.
Sam jogged back to me. "What? What's wrong?"
"Dean's gone," I said, out of breath.
Sam looked around in a panic. "Dean?!"
Suddenly, there was a gunshot in the distance, and the next second, Sam and I were back in the Impala, jumping awake. The only problem was that Dean was still out cold.
"Dean?" I asked, lightly rocking his shoulder, but he didn't react at all.
"Hey." Sam hit his arm. "Wake up." He hit him again.
Finally, Dean started to move, but instead of him turning to look at us, it was Jeremy. His mouth curled into an evil smile, and I could feel my skin crawl. A wooden baseball bat appeared in his hand, and he smashed it into Sam's stomach.
"Sam!" I screamed as he opened his door and fell out.
Jeremy laughed and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. I reached for my own door, but it was locked. As I reached for the lock to unlock it, it completely disappeared, and the seams of the door sealed shut. I turned for the other back door, but only got the same result. I lunged over the front seat to get out of Sam's door, but it slammed shut and sealed itself. I tugged at the handle, but just as I expected, it didn't help.
Jeremy smirked at me, with the bat over his shoulder, and then turned his attention to Sam. "Boy, you just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you?"
"You're a psycho." Sam grunted.
Jeremy shook his head. "You're wrong."
"Yeah?" Sam asked as he backed away, still on the ground. "Tell that to Dr. Gregg."
"The doc?" Jeremey shook his head. "No, no. The doc's the one that got me hooked on this stuff, and then he took it away." He leaned against the Impala, holding the bat as if he were ready to swing. "But I needed it, and he wouldn't let me have it."
"So, you killed him?" Sam asked.
"I can dream again. You know what that's like, not to be able to dream?" Jeremy asked. "You never rest, not really. It's like being awake for fifteen years."
"And let me guess. That makes you go crazy?" Sam asked.
Jeremy leaned over Sam, holding the bat above him. "I just wanna be left alone. I just wanna dream."
"Sorry. Can't do that," Sam said.
"That's the wrong answer," Jeremy said.
Sam was suddenly pulled flat against the ground, his arms and legs tied to large spikes.
I slammed the window. "Sam!"
Jeremy looked at me and laughed, but turned his attention back to Sam. "I'm getting better and better at this. Stronger and stronger all the time." He examined the bat. "But you, your sister, and your brother? You're not waking up. Not this time. I'm not gonna let you." He began beating Sam with the bat.
"Sam!" I shouted as I continued pounding on the window. I quickly laid back and started kicking the door hard with both feet.
My mind raced as nothing I was doing was working, but I could hear Sam getting beat. "Okay, Maddison, think. You've watched enough Nightmare on Elm Street. This is my dream too. He's only powerful if I let him be."
I closed my eyes hard and imagined the doors unlocking and flying open when I heard the sound of the doors unlocking. Then my eyes snapped open, all four doors whipped open, and I jumped out.
Jeremy suddenly turned to face me. "How did you...?!" He charged me and pulled back to hit me with his bat.
"No!" Sam yelled.
I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined the bat turning into a toy. I opened my eyes when the bat hit me with a soft squeak. The bat was now just a plastic squeaky toy.
I smiled. "Looks like you're not as powerful as you think you are."
Anger flooded Jeremy's face. "You can't stop me! There's nothing I can't do in here."
"Because of the Dream Root?" Sam panted.
Jeremy turned to Sam. "That's right."
"Yeah? Well, you're forgetting something," Sam said.
"What's that?" Jeremy asked.
"We took the Dream Root too." Sam smiled.
Suddenly, Jeremy's dad appeared in the woods. "Jeremy!"
He looked over at his dad, pure terror in his eyes.
"Jeremy!" his dad yelled again.
"No. No..." Jeremy pleaded.
His dad started making his way toward him.
"Dad?" Jeremy asked.
"You answer me when I'm talking to you, boy," his dad demanded.
Jeremy backed away slowly. "No..."
Sam stood up and punched Jeremy hard in the face and then hit him again.
Sam, Dean, and I jolted awake back in the Impala again.
We made our way back to the motel and met up with Bobby. Dean was a little quiet. So, Sam, Bobby, and I went out to pick up some food in town, and we informed him about what had happened on our way back.
"So, you did a little dream-weaving of your own in there, huh?" Bobby asked Sam as we turned the corner of the hallway to our room.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I just sort of concentrated, and it happened, ya know?"
"Didn't have anything to do with... ya know, your psychic stuff?" Bobby asked.
"No... I mean..." Sam put his hand on my shoulder. "I wouldn't have even thought of it if it weren't for Maddi."
Bobby nodded. "Good. Good."
Sam opened our motel door, and we walked in.
"Hey, you guys seen Bela?" Dean asked as soon as we walked in. "She's not in her room. She's not answering her phone."
Sam closed the door behind us and shrugged. "She must've taken off or something."
"Just like that?" Dean asked. "It's a little weird."
"Yeah, well, if you ask me what's weird is why she helped us in the first place," Bobby said.
"I thought you saved her life," Dean said.
Bobby furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The thing in Flagstaff," Dean said.
Bobby shook his head. "That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all."
We all looked at each other confused.
Sam shook his head. "Well, then why did—"
"You kids better check your pockets," Bobby warned.
Sam and Dean reached into their pockets.
Bobby sighed. "Not literally."
Dean looked up in realization and instantly walked to the safe. "No, no, no." He opened it, but it was empty.
"The colt," Sam said.
I shook my head because we should've known she was up to something.
Dean slammed the safe shut.
Sam shook his head. "Bela stole the colt."
"Damn it!" Bobby yelled.
"Pack your crap." Dean walked over to his bag, angrily.
"Why? Where are we going?" Sam asked.
"We're gonna go hunt the bitch down," Dean said.
As we made it out to the Impala, we threw our stuff in the trunk.
"Hey. I was wondering. When you were in my head, what did you see?" Dean asked.
I shrugged. "Jeremy."
Sam nodded. "He kept us separated from you. Easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess."
Dean scoffed.
"What about you?" Sam asked. "You never said."
Dean shook his head. "Nothing. I was looking for you two the whole time."
We walked to our doors and climbed in.
Dean paused without starting the car. "Guys."
"Yeah?" I asked, almost concerned.
Dean didn't look at either of us and cleared his throat. "I've been doing some thinking, and... well, the thing is... I don't wanna die."
I looked down sadly.
"I don't wanna go to Hell," Dean said.
Sam nodded and spoke softly. "All right. Yeah. We'll find a way to save you."
Dean turned so he could see both Sam and me, a small smile on his face. "Okay, good," he said shakily.
Sam and I nodded at him and shared a look as he started the Impala and pulled away.