They stood inside a hospital room at Bobby's bedside. The old man seemingly in a coma. "So what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked. The doctor at the foot of the bed flipped through the chart in his hands. "We've tested everything we could think of. 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 man's face was sympathetic as he watched them. Dean leaning over Bobby's bed, hands fisting the side rails as Sam rubbed his back. "Where did they find him?" Sam asked. "There's a motel just outside of town. The maid is the one that found him."
The boys walked into Bobby's room. A lone bed in the center. Plain brick walls. Blue curtains over twin windows, desk in between them. The only décor being cheap landscape portraits and a sunburst clock above the desk. "Man it doesn't even look like anybody's been in here. You think there would be a pizza box, beer can, something." Dean said as he looked around the room. Sam opened the closet. Bobby's clothes were hung up, spaced out just enough to almost completely cover something on the wall behind them. Sam shifted the hangers, finding a map with several newspaper clippings pinned to it. Along with several pictures of different root plants and printed out research. "How bout this?" Sam said as Dean stepped beside him. "Good old Bobby. Always covers his tracks." Dean smiled as he spoke.
"Can you make heads or tails of any of this?" Sam asked. Dean pulled a paper from the wall. "Selene Capensis. Which means nothing to me." Dean said. "Hey look. Obit." Sam chimed in, pulling the paper from the wall. "Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist." Dean leaned over, cheek pressed to Sam's shoulder. "How'd he bite it?" He said. "Um, actually they don't know. He went to sleep and never woke up." Sam explained. Dean took the paper from him. Looking at the Doctor's photo. "That sound familiar to you?" Sam shifted on his feet. Immediately missing the contact. "Um…So let's sat Bobby was looking into the Doc's death, you know hunting for something." Dean finished his sentence for him. "That started hunting for him." Sam nodded. "All right stay here." Dean was pointing at the research on the wall. "See if you can make heads or tails of this. I'll look into the good doctor myself." He moved to the bed, starting to undress. Sam running his hands down his back as he pulled a white button up on. Sam reaching around from behind, deft hands fastening the buttons as he kissed Dean's neck. Dean pulling his tie on, followed by the matching dress slacks of his suit. Sam spinning him around as he slowly, teasingly, pulled up the zipper. Fingering fastening his belt as their hungry tongues battled for dominance. "This usually goes the other way round." Dean whispered as he smiled against Sam's mouth. "Just be careful." Sam said as he kissed him a final time before Dean slipped into his dress shoes and walked out the door.
Dean stepped into the Doctor's office followed by a sulky looking brunette woman. "Well his death must have come as a shock to you." He said, walking up to the desk in the center of the room. "Yeah, it did. But still. Go in your sleep peacefully. That's what you wish for, right?" She said. He smiled at her. "Yeah right. Dr. Gregg studied sleeping disorders? Dreams?" He asked. "I don't understand? I went over all of this with the other detectives." She was eyeing him sternly, hands on her hips. "You already spoke to another detective?" He asked. "Yes. A very nice older man with a beard." She replied. "Well, I'd love to go over it with you again, if you don't mind." He smiled, laying on his charm. "Thing is I'm sort of busy. Maybe we could do this later?" She said. Strike one! He'd swung but missed. He replaced charm with serious.
"Sure, I'll just bring you down to the station later today. Get your statement on tape. Do it all official like." Her eyes deflected from his gaze. Something in his eye was hauntingly intimidating. Here comes the pitch. "Look…I didn't know about his experiments ok? Not until I was cleaning out his files." He held fast at the plate. "Experiments? The ones he was doing on sleeping?" She sighed. "Nobody knew ok? Not the university, not anybody. Look I'm just a student." He swings. "Well…you do realize this could go on your permanent record. You might even get kicked out of school. Unless you hand over the doctor's research to me. All of it." It's a home run, he hits it out if the park. "Look I don't have it anymore. I got rid of it. But I can give you a name. Jeremy Frost."
He knocked on the door to one of the dorms. The boy that answered had the appearance of a lazy stoner. Dean flashed him a fake Pittsburgh police department badge. Declaring him to be Detective Robert Plant. The boy turned, letting him into the room. "Look I don't know what the R.A. said but I was growing ferns." Dean chuckled. "Take it easy Phish. That's not why I'm here." He turned to face the boy. "I wanna talk to you about Dr. Gregg's sleep study." The boy gazed up at him with doe like green eyes. "Yeah, Dr. Gregg just died right?" He said. "You were one of his test subjects, right?" Dean asked. "Yeah." The boy replied before opening the fridge, pulling two beers out. He held one out for Dean to take. "Unless you're on duty, or whatever?" Dean smirked. "I guess I can make an exception." He took the cold bottle from the boy, twisting the cap off, taking a swing. An attempt to earn his trust. Or if he was honest he didn't need a reason.
"Now the doc was testing treatments for a Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome, which means?" His eyes drifting from the paper work in his hand to the kids face. "I uh…can't dream. I had this bike accident as a kid. Hit my head pretty good. Haven't dreamed since. Til The study." Jeremy said. Dean questioned him further. "What'd the doc give you?" Jeremy rubbed the back of his head. "This uh…yellow tea. Smelled awful, tasted worse. I had this like super vivid dream. Like a bad acid trip. Super intense. It was so real. You know?" The boy asked. Images of Sam riding him, screaming in ecstasy, the two of them covered in Dean's blood flashed in his mind. "Totally." Dean said in a husky voice. He smirked just a bit before shaking his head. His face becoming void of feeling. "I mean no!" Dean said hastily. A voice inside his head shaming him. "That was it. I dropped out of the study after that. I didn't like it man. It freaked me out." Dean thanked him for the beer before taking his leave.
Sam walked into the hospital room to find Dean sitting at Bobby's bedside. He breathed a sigh as Dean turned to face him. "How is he?" he asked. Dean ran a hand down his tired face before he spoke. "No change. What you got there?" he motioned to the file folder Sam was placing on the fold out doctor's desk at the foot of the bed. He rose to stand next to his little brother as Sam explained. "Well considering what you told me about the experiments, Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense. This plant is African dream root." He held the picture of the plant up so Dean could see. "It's been used in Shaman medicine for centuries."
"Let me guess they dose up, bust out the didgeridoos and start kicking the hacky?" Dean said jokingly. Sam chuckled before continuing his explanation. "Not quite. The legend says it's used for dream walking. Like entering another person's dream. Poking around in their heads. But this stuff is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice you can become a real life Freddy Krueger." Dean's gaze drifted up to Bobby. "So like killing people in their sleep?" He asked. "Pretty much." Sam replied. "So let's say the Doc was testing it out on his patient's. Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit and…" He said before Dean finished his sentence for him. "He goes nighty night for good. Think that's what's going on with Bobby?" Sam hesitated for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. "If the killer came for him…how come he's still alive?" he asked. Dean shook his head. "I don't know." he replied.
They spoke in hushed tones as they walked down the halls of the hospital. "So how are we supposed to find this homicidal Sandman?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know it could be anyone who knew the doctor. And had access to the dream root. It's probably one of his patients." Sam said. Dean nodded his head in agreement. "Man I don't even know where to start with this. Don't even know how many subjects he had." Dean said. Rubbing his temples. Sam sighed as he spoke. "In any other case we'd be calling Bobby for help right now." Sam's words stopped Dean in his tracks. He turned to his older brother. "You know what you're right! Let's talk to him." Said Dean. Sam laughed. "Sure…don't you think it might be kind of a one-sided conversation though?" Dean gave a look that read 'Seriously?' before he answered with, "Not if we're trippin on some dream root."
"You wanna go dream walking inside Bobby's head?" Sam asked. Dean smiled as he answered. "Yeah, I mean maybe we can help you know?" Sam wasn't feeling it. "Dean, we don't know what's crawling around inside there." Dean shrugged. "How bad could it be?" Sam's face was serious as he replied. "Bad." Dean sighed. "Dude it's Bobby." Sam nodded as they began walking again. "You're right. But problem is we're fresh out of African dream root. So unless you know someone who can score some…" Dean's face went slightly white as he once again stopped walking. The following exchange was. "Shit." Followed by, "What?" Then Dean, "Bela." Sam, "Bela? Shit. Are you actually suggesting we ask her for a favor?" Dean shivered as he replied. "I'm feeling dirty just thanking about it but yeah."
Some time later Sam was sitting in their motel room at the desk doing research. Dean was sitting on the bed tuning the alarm clock radio, attempting to find an acceptable station. The radio DJ's voice was heard as Dean settled on a station he deemed suitable. "You be just heard the rockin sounds of Kansas' 'Carry on my wayward son' right here on Pittsburgh's 99.7 The Noise. Now let's slow it down with some Steve Miller Band, this is 'The Joker'." Music filled the air as Sam felt strong hands comb through his hair, down his neck, stopping on his shoulders. "Some people call me the space cowboy, some people call me the gangster of love." Dean sang as his fingers began to knead the tense muscles beneath his finger tips. Causing Sam to moan a soft pleased sound.
"People talk about me baby. Say I'm doin you wrong, doin you wrong." Dean's voice was like a siren song. His hands working as if with expert skill. Massaging the skin just under his button up until it was relaxed. "But don't you worry no baby don't worry, cause I'm right here, right here at home." Sam tipped his head back, letting it fall against Dean's stomach, in a trance caused by his brother's gentle croon. Dean chose this moment to slide one hand down Sam's torso to begin palming his growing jean clad erection. His mouth claiming Sam's in an upside down kiss. He couldn't help but smile as he thought about the scene from that Toby Maguire Spiderman movie. Dean was unbuckling his belt, chanting his name. "Sam, Sam…Sam."
"Sam wake up!" Dean shouted from across the room. Sam woke, sitting upright. His hand covered in drool. He wiped it on his jeans as his brother snickered behind him. "Dude, you were out." He turned to look at Dean. "And making some serious happy noises. You dreaming about me?" Dean teased with a smile. He replied with a false nonchalant voice. "What? No." Dean was sitting in a chair at the small dining table, tapping a pen against the papers in his hands. "Come on you can tell me if it wasn't me. Who was it? Angelina Jolie again?" Sam turned to him, his answer to hasty. "No." Dean's face was mischievous. "Brad Pitt?" He asked. Sam's voice cracked as he replied. "No! No. Dude it doesn't matter." They spoke this time in unison. "Whatever." Dean chuckled as he asked, "I called Bela. She said to go get fucked. So why don't you come over here and help me with this stuff? The Doc's handwriting is worse than yours." He motioned to the paper work in front of him. Sam looked down at the noticeable bulge in his pants. "Yeah…uh, in a minute." He said in a sleepy sounding voice. He cleared his throat. "Why don't I help you with that." Dean teased as he rose, walking toward him as a knock sounded on the door. Dean froze, an aggravated expression on his handsome face as he turned to the door. He opened it just a crack, peeking out. He turned to Sam, biting his lip as he sidestepped, flinging the door open behind him. "Bela, as I live and breath." He said, tone laced with annoyance.
The stunning brunette stepped into the room behind him. "You called me remember?" She said. Dean stepped towards her as he snapped back. "I remember you turning me down." She smiled in Sam's direction, her hand fishing around in her purse as she spoke. "Dean! Not in front of your girlfriend." Sam waved at her using his middle finger. She pulled a jar out, handing it to Dean. "I brought your dream root. Nasty stuff. Not easy to come by." She said. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Dean asked. She sighed, moving to undo her pea coat. Sam shifted uncomfortably, glaring at her when she turned toward his brother to open it in a slow sensual way. "What I can't do you a little favor every now and then?" She purred at him. "No You can't. I wanna know what strings are attached?" Dean boomed at her. Sam smiling to himself when Dean's gaze never left her face, despite her attempts.
"You said this was for Bobby Singer right? Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you." Dean was staring at her, utterly unconvinced. "Bobby? Why?" he asked. Her eyes held a genuine look as she replied. "He saved my life once, in Flagstaff." Dean looked to Sam, silently asking if he should believe her. Sam nodded a yes. She smiled looking from one Winchester to the other. "So when are we going on this magical mystery tour?" Dean stepped across the room. "Oh you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head." He said, opening the safe inside the closet, placing the jar inside next to the demon colt. "No offense." He said over his shoulder. She smiled at Sam, who was looking at her with apologetic eyes. "None taken. It's 2 a.m. where am I supposed to go?" She eyed Dean sternly. He spun the lock on the safe, moving to stand next to his brother. "Get a room." He said. She flipped him off, grabbing her coat, storming out the door.
Sam crossed the floor with two coffee cups in hand. Both containing a gross yellow looking tea mixture. He handed one to Dean who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Well should we dim the lights? Sync up 'Wizard of Oz' with 'Dark Side Of The Moon'"? He asked, staring at the contents of his cup in disgust. Sam chuckled. "Why?" he asked as he sat down next to his brother. Dean was staring at him in disbelief. "What did you do during college?" Dean asked sarcastically. Sam sprinkled some of Bobby's hair into each of their cups. "So this is how we control who's dream we are in." He said, ignoring Dean's comments. They shared a few tender kisses, the way they always did before heading out on a hunt. Something that should be romantic, like when couples leave for work. Tainted with unspoken fear for hunters. Going to work could be the last thing you do. They clinked the glasses together before downing the foul smelling liquid. Both of their faces turning green. Resisting the urge to vomit. "Feel anything?" Dean said with a queasy voice. "No…you?" Sam replied in the same sickly tone. "Maybe we got some bad Schwag?" Dean said as he eyed his empty cup.
Sam looked to the window, the sound of thunder outside. "Hey when did it start raining?" he asked. Dean rose from the bed, opening the curtains of the window. The falling water drops running up the window. "When did it start raining upside down?" He said. When he turned back to Sam they were standing in the middle of a living room. A dimly lit area with floral, ivy like wallpaper and tidy furniture. "Ok, so Bobby's dreaming of better homes and gardens?" Dean said. Sam was looking around. "Wait. Imagine the place with out the paint job. More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place.?" Sam said as he pointed in places where the books should be. "It's Bobby's house." Dean said. Taking in the now familiar room. They began searching the house. Calling out the old man's name. A faint howling sound could be heard over the rain just outside. Sam's eyes settled on the front door. "Dean…I'm gonna go look outside." Dean shook his head no. "Stay close." Sam paced the floor, kissing him gently. "I'll be fine. We gotta find him." Sam said to reassure him. "Don't do anything stupid." Dean said, watching his brother step out the door.
Sam stepped outside to a bright sunny day, birds chirping. Bobby's front yard was beautifully gardened. A stone pathway leading up from the driveway replacing the junk cars. The house a stunning fresh paint job of baby blue. The same wicker patio set he and the old man had sat in. Drinking coffee as they watched Dean cutting fire wood. Except the furniture looked brand new, not old and faded. The door suddenly slammed shut behind him. He jiggled the knob. Beating on the locked door. "Dean!" he called out. But no-one came to open it. He stepped across the porch, peeking in the window. Dean was inside the still dimly lit house, even though the sun shone bright outside. He banged on the window. Dean didn't turn around. He paced down the stairs.
Inside Dean opened the sliding doors that led from the living room to the kitchen. He called out the old man's name as he crossed the floor to the adjoining hallway that held a closet at one end, a door to Bobby's study on the other. He heard a howling sound coming from the study. "Who's out there?" Bobby's voice came from inside the closet. Dean turned to face it. The door was covered in claw marks. He placed his hand on the knob, leaning in to hear better. "Bobby you in there?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Dean?" The old man's voice came again. "Yeah! It's me, open up." He replied. Bobby stepped out, claw marks cut into his cheek. He sidestepped Dean, back pressed to the wall as he peered into the kitchen. "How the hell did you find me?" Bobby asked. "Sam and I got some of that dream root stuff." Dean answered. "Dream root? What?" Bobby seemed confused.
"Dr. Gregg, the experiments?" Dean asked in an attempt to remind the old man. Bobby turned to look at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked before turning back to searching the room. The lights flickered. Drawing Dean's attention. Bobby became fearful. "Hurry! She's coming back." he said, rushing back to the closet door. "Who is? What's going on?" Dean said as he grabbed him. "You know this is a dream right? None of this is real." Bobby pointed behind him. The sound of the study door could be heard creaking open. "Does that look made up?" The old man said with a trembling voice. Dean turned his head to see a woman in a white night gown step out of the room, three bleeding wounds in her torso. The closet door slammed shut behind them. "Bobby, who is that?" Dean asked. "She's my wife." The old man sobbed.
Back outside Sam was looking around the back yard. Finding it just as lush as the front. Radiant spring flowers in full bloom planted along a white picket fence line. A brick sitting area in front of the storage building held a fancy fire pit in the center. Rose bushes were growing up the lattice on the back of the house. It was nothing like the home he'd grew to love as his own. He paced around in confusion. As he rounded the corner of the storage building a man swung a baseball bat at him. He raised his arms in defense just in time to protect his head. Falling to the ground. "Who are you? You don't belong here." The man asked. "You're one to talk. You're in my friend's head." Sam said. "Well you got a poor chose in friends. This is self defense. He came after me. Wanted to hurt me." Sam eyed him as he spoke. "That may be because you're a killer."
"Why Bobby? Why'd you do this to me?" The woman asked as she paced closer to Bobby and Dean. "You shoved that knife into me…over and over again." Bobby stared at her, sadness consuming his face. Dean gripped him by the shoulders. "It's not real Bobby." He said as the old man trembled. "You were possessed baby. I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know I could save you." Bobby said. Tears in his eyes. Dean grabbed him, running into the living room as she screamed. The doors slamming behind them, trapping her on the other side. She was screaming like a rabid animal, beating against the doors. Dean leaned against them. "I'm telling you all of this. The house, your wife, it's a nightmare!" Dean barked at Bobby, holding the doors closed. He ripped the phone cord out of the wall, tying it to hold them closed. "This is a dream and you can wake up." He said as he finished the knot in the cord. "Just leave me alone and let her kill me already." The old man said in defeat. Dean gripped him by the front of his vest. "You listen to me. You gotta snap out of this now. I'm not gonna let you die you're like a father to me. No, you are my real father! Blood be damned. You gotta believe me please! You're dreaming, take control of it!" Dean said, looking him dead in the eye. Willing him to know how much he meant it. Bobby closed his eyes, concentrating. The screaming and pounding stopped. "Now would you please wake up?" Dean barked.
Bobby shot bolt upright in his hospital room. At the same time back in the motel room so did the Winchester's.
Dean sat next to Bobby's bed side, sliding him the rest of the Doctor's paperwork as the old man flipped through them. "Hey Bobby…that uh, stuff with your wife? That actually happen?" Dean asked hesitantly. The old man locked eyes with him. "Everybody got into hunting somehow." The old man said as his eyes drifted to the floor. "I'm sorry." Dean said in earnest. "Don't be. If it weren't for you I'd still be lost in there. Or dead." Bobby said as he gave a weak smile. Sam walked into the room. "So stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone." Bobby picked a picture up off the fold out desk in front of him. "He ain't much of a stoner. Names Jeremy Frost. Full on genius. 160 IQ. Which is saying something considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head. Here's father of the year." He said as he handed a picture of Mr. Frost to Sam.
"He hadn't dreamed since until he met the Doc." Bobby continued. "How'd he get in your dream anyway? Isn't he supposed to have some of your D.N.A.?" Sam asked. "Yeah…before I knew it was him he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest fucking thing." Bobby said. Dean shrugged. The way he did when he was embarrassed. "Oh I don't know. It wasn't that dumb." Dean said, licking his lips as he gave a slight chuckle. Sam eyed him. "Dean…you didn't?" Dean looked at his brother like a child being scolded. "I was thirsty…" Dean replied. "That's great! Now he can come after either one of you!" Sam scoffed. "Well you better find him fast. And coffee up. Cause the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep." Bobby said, glancing at Dean.
Two days later Baby's engine could be heard humming down the road. A very agitated Dean behind her wheel. "This fucking Jeremy guy isn't a ghost where the fuck could he be?" He snapped. "De…you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem a little…caffeinated." Sam asked in a nervous tone. Dean's head snapped towards him in an accusing glare. "Well thanks for the news flash!" Dean barked at him as his cellphone rang. 'Thunderstuck' blasting from inside his coat. He fumbled to free it from the pocket. "Tell me you got something?" He yelled into the receiver. "Strip club was a bust huh? That was our last lead." Bobby said on the other end of the line. "What the hell Bobby!" Dean yelled. "Don't you yell at me, boy! I'm working my ass off here." The old man snapped back. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just tired. What's Bela got?" Dean said. He could hear her on the other end. "Sorry, sometimes the spirit words in a chatty mood, sometimes it's not." She said, referencing to the spirit board she was using. Dean hung up the phone, slamming his fist into the steering wheel. "Damn it!" Baby's tires screeched as he pulled off the road, parking in a clearing. "All right that's it I'm done." He said, leaning back, placing his hands behind his head. "What? What're you doing?" Sam asked in confusion. "Taking myself a long over due nap." Dean replied.
"Dean you can't! Jeremy can come after you." Sam yelled out at him. "That's the idea. We can't find him so let him come to me." Dean replied. "On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?" Sam asked. "I can handle it." Dean replied smoothly. "Not alone you can't." Sam stated as he reached over. Plucking a few hairs from Dean's scalp, earning an "Ow!" from his older brother. He placed the hairs into a water bottle that held a dose of the dream tea. "I'm coming in with you. At least then it'll be two against one." Sam said. "No you're not." Dean demanded. "Why not?" Sam asked. "Because I don't want you digging around side my head…." Dean eyed him with something Sam couldn't quite place. Maybe fear. "Too bad." Sam replied. Downing the disgusting concoction before there could be further protest.
Sam woke some time later, stretching out as best he could inside the impala. He looked over to see Dean slumped over in the driver's seat. "Dean?" he said as he tapped him. The older brother springing upright. "What are we still doing here?" Dean asked, his voice all sleepy. "I have no idea." Sam said. They heard a noise in the distance. "There's someone out there." He said as they looked around. The sounds of insects chirping in the night could be heard as they stepped out of the impala. Heading down the path before them. As if coming from speakers in the sky, Doris Day's 'Dream A Little Dream Of Me' could be heard all around them. The clicking sound of a stage light coming on behind them. As Dean turned around he saw their mom sitting on a picnic blanket. Wearing a pretty coral sundress. The fabric stretched out over her swollen pregnant belly. A little Dean running over laying his head down against her stomach.
"Have you picked a name for your baby brother yet Dean?" She said as she ran her fingers through his blond hair. "Sam. Like Grandpa Campbell." Little Dean said as he placed sweet kisses on her baby bump. Mary Winchester smiled. "I think little Sammy will love that name." She said with a smile. Dean turned to Sam. "I've never had this dream before." He snapped. Sam approached his side. A look of overwhelming love on his face. Dean rolled his eyes. "Stop looking at me like that." He barked.
"He's going to be such a lucky baby boy. To have a big brother like you to love him." She said before disappearing. The music stopped. Leaving them in the silent darkness of night. "Where'd she go?" He said as Sam turned his head towards the trees. Jeremy stepped out from behind one, taking off running. "Dean." Sam said as he too started running. In the midst of the pursuit they got separated. Dean froze. Looking around. The trees no longer real. They were wallpaper. The forest had morphed into a long hallway with multiple doors on either side. "Ok…" He said to himself.
He crept down the hallway, the hinges of the door at the end creaking as it cracked open. As he cautiously stepped inside the door he found himself in a version of the current motel room they were staying in. A clicking sound drawing his attention to a man sitting at the desk across the room, their back turned to him. "Jeremy?" he said, slowly approaching. The man didn't turn around. Just continued to flick the power switch on the desk lamp. The light flickering on then off repeatedly. The clicking sound only seeming to grow louder until with one final click the lamp remained lit. The man in the chair slowly turning his head to face Dean. He was looking at himself. The apparition of himself slowly raising out of the chair. "Hey Dean." It said in his voice. With his lips. His eyes staring into his own damaged soul.
Dean replied the only way he knew how, sarcastic humor. "Well aren't you a handsome son of a gun." He said as he smirked at his own face. "We need to talk." It said to him. He paced the floor, walking a slow circle around himself. "I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare. I like it." He said, the two Dean's circling each other. Watching each other's every move. Waiting. The way a predator stalks it's prey. "Joke all you want smartass. But you can't lie to yourself. I know the truth." They stopped, facing each other as dream Dean continued. "I know how dead you are inside…how worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror…and hate what you see." Dean gave a fake half smirk saying "Sorry pal. That's not gonna work. You're not real."
"Sure I am, I'm you." Fake Dean responded. "I don't think so. See this is my dream." Dean said, holding his hand up in clear sight of the fake him. "See all I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye bye." He teased, giving his signature smirk with a nibble of his bottom lip showing that he's won. He snapped his fingers. The sound sharp in the silent room. Dream Dean watched him in brooding silence. A slight confusion settling on Dean's face as he snapped his fingers together again 3 more times. Nothing happened. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you." Dream Dean said with a tip of his head as the door slammed shut behind him. The sound of the door locking was an ominous symphony. "Like I said…we need to talk." It said as it held up Dean's sawed off shotgun.
Sam too found himself in a similar hallway. The forest morphing into walls covered in posters of Dean's favorite album covers. A cacophony of sounds echoing out of doors. A mesh of music and voices. Sam opened the one closest to him. The sounds of Warrants 'Cherry pie' escaping into the hallway. As he opened the door wide he gulped. The only thing inside the room was a giant Cherry pie the size of a mattress. Sam on all fours in the center of it. Dean thrusting into him from behind. Smearing red pie filling all over Sam's back before running his tongue up to his shoulders.
Sam slammed the door shut. Shivering as he panted. "What the fuck did I just see…" He timidly walked to a few more doors. Some he refused to open when he got close enough to hear what was happening on the other side. Others he opened to some form of innocence. The two of them driving down the highway, singing along to the radio. The two of them leaning against Baby's hood, watching the stars for hours in silence. The one thing they all had in common, Sam was in every one of them. As he approached the middle of the hallway he found a single white door. Every other door was black except this one. Nothing could be heard on the other side. Sam gripped the knob with a trembling hand, opening it slowly. Cautious of what lay ahead.
He stepped inside to find himself inside a tidy master bathroom. A moderate sized couples vanity, plain white tub with a simple shower curtain. Soft muffled sounds could be heard outside the open bathroom door. Sam stepped out to find himself in a bedroom. He saw himself laying in the center of a four post oak bed. Except he was different. Older, his hair grown out just past his chin. Dean's head poking out from under the sheets. Trailing kisses up his chest to his face. "Happy 34th birthday baby boy." Dean said. The soft wet smacking sounds echoing into the room as they kissed passionately. Dean throwing himself off of him, both of them sighing loudly as the shrill sound of tiny cries burst through a baby monitor on the nightstand. "Damn it! She kept us up all night. I have court today." He heard himself say. Now having a clear view of the 38 year old Dean he held his breath. He had a scruffy looking full beard. His hair had grown out a few inches. His hands were marked with traces of grease. Dean turned the monitor off before rising out of bed to pull on sweat pants and a tee shirt that read 'Winchester's Auto Garage'. "Get some sleep Sammy. I'll take care of it." Dean said before kissing him one last time.
He followed Dean out of the room, down the hallway of the house into a room painted pink with wooden Letters spelling out Mary Ellen above a dark oak crib. Dean leaned down picking the baby up, holding her against his shoulder, patting her butt gently. "So fussy. All gassy just like your Daddy. He gave me hell when he was little." Dean said to the babe. She couldn't be more than a week old. Sam watched as Dean skillfully laid her down on the changing table adjoining the crib. He'd never seen someone change a diaper so fast.
He watched in tearful silence as Dean walked out of the room, little Mary Ellen on his shoulder again. Minutes passed before he wiped tears from his cheeks, stepping out of the room. He moved down the stairs, finding a large living room adjoining a small kitchen. Dean was currently pouring a cup of coffee while holding a bottle against his chin so the baby could suckle. Dean moved into the living room to settle onto the couch. Two young boys on the floor watching Scooby-doo reruns. Identical twins, both looking exactly like Dean had at the age of seven. "Jared, Jensen! Keep it down. You're Daddy is trying to sleep. Jared, just because you're two minutes older doesn't mean you can bully your brother." Dean's bass was gentle, full of love. "Yes Dad." They said in unison. Dean had just laid the tiny baby girl down in her swing when the sound of a key turning in the front door could he heard.
Jo Harvelle stepped into the room, carrying an insulated cooler bag. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes. Dean took the bag from her as she followed him into the kitchen. He began pulling pouches of frozen breast milk out of it, placing them into the freezer. "How you feeling sweetheart?" He asked as she sat in a chair at the kitchen table. "Better. If you two want anymore kids they're coming from Sam. His little swimmer was much easier on me. Plus you make twins." She said. Smiling at his back. Dean placed the last of the pouches into the fridge, helping her stand from the chair. "Don't worry. I think we're done." He said as they returned to the living room. The twins waiting with their backpacks over their shoulders. Dean leaned down placing a kiss on both their cheeks. "Jay, take care of your little brother." He said as he rose to his feet. He kissed Jo on the cheek. "Thanks again for taking the boys to school. Let us know if you need anything."
Sam watched his brother sleeping on the couch with their daughter for what felt like hours. Crying, smiling, laughing. Completely overwhelmed by Dean's selfless love for him. Dean's dreams were Sam's. He'd finished law school. They'd had children. Dean was a mechanic. They lived in a quiet little house in the suburbs. A real family with a normal life. No more monsters. No more hunting. It was to much to take. The baby was waking, stirring on top of his brother's chest as the dream began to fade away. "No!" he screamed. Wishing to see their faces for a moment longer.
Sam snapped awake in the passenger seat of the impala. Dean sleeping next to him. "Dean….wake up." He said. Reaching over to give his brother a slight shake. Jeremy turned to face him, slamming the handle of a baseball bat into Sam's shoulder. Sam opened the car door, falling out onto the ground. Gripping his shoulder in pain as he let out an aching groan. He crawled away from Jeremy as the boy rounded Baby's hood, the bat resting over his shoulder. "Boy you just don't know when to quit do you?" Jeremy said. Sam was trying to put enough space between them to get up.
"You're psycho!" he spat the words at his assailant. Jeremy leaned back against Baby's trunk. "I Just wanna be left alone. So I can dream." He said, staring down at Sam. "Sorry, can't do that." Sam said. "Wrong answer." Jeremy replied with a smirk. Sam's body snapped back against the ground. Rope was suddenly felt around his wrists. Tied to stakes, pinning him to the earth. He struggled to free himself. Jeremy loomed over him, stroking the wooden bat. "I'm getting better at this. Stronger all the time. But you and you're brother aren't waking up this time. I won't let you."
"You're going to hell Dean. And you won't even lift a finger to stop it." Fake Dean said as they began pacing circles around each other again. "Talk about low self esteem. Then again we figure saving a monster like you isn't really worth it is it?" It said with a malicious chuckle. "Come on Dean wake up." Real Dean said to himself. "I mean after all you got nothing outside of Sam. And even he can't fill the emptiness inside you anymore. Little Sammy just can't seem to keep up with your…appetites. Can he?" It said in a taunting voice.
Dean's sarcastic grin faded into a stern seriousness. "That's not true." He said, his voice flat and monotone. "No? What are the things you want? The things you dream? Your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. The only thing you actually got is Sam. And you fuck him like you want to break him in half. And why? Because you're a rabid mindless attack dog. Fucking Sam is the only thing distracting you from the fact that you get off on killing anything you can get your hands on." The fake Dean said in a taunting tone.
Dean scoffed. "You think you know me?" It laughed maniacally. It's eyes practically growing evergreen with an evil gleam. "Oh I think I do. See because all there was inside there was 'Watch out for Sammy! Look out for your little brother Boy!' Until there was me. I am you Dean. That little twinkle in your eye. The madness inside you. The thing your brother sees when he looks at you. When you can't figure out why he's looking at you that way. That's me." It said to him. Dean tipped his head slightly, a smirk on his face. "Just shut up." He said.
It closed the space between them. "Dad knew who you really are. A monster. Sam's figuring it out too. They say you're coming back bad? You're already rotten Dean. Daddy's blunt little instrument. A perverted psycho who likes to fuck your brother until it hurts him cause making Sam scream almost gets you as hard as sliding a knife into someone's gut. But not quite. You're gonna hurt Sam. It's only a matter of time. When you come back…you'll be the one to kill him." It said, so close Dean could feel it's hot breath. Dean snapped, gripping it by the shirt, shoving it back into the desk so hard the wood cracked under the pressure. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed in fury.
"My father was an obsessed bastard!" Dean screamed at the apparition as it lifted up, attempting to land a kick in his gut. Dean jumped back before slamming his fist into its face twice. Swinging so hard he could feel cheek bone crunch beneath his knuckles. It held the shotgun up but Dean ripped it from it's grip. Pressing it against the apparition's throat, pinning it to the desk. "All that shit he dumped on me about protecting Sam? That means nothing! He's the one that let mom die! He wasn't there for Sam! I ALWAYS WAS!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming his fist into its face again.
"I love my brother! He is enough. He's everything. I'm the only one who can keep him safe! And if I have to become a monster to do it…THEN I FUCKING WILL!" Dean yelled. Rearing back as he aimed the shot gun. He pulled the trigger. Watching buck shot blast the vision of himself back, blood pouring out of it's chest as it fell onto the desk. It's head lolling down lifelessly. Dean panted, staring at his own blood splattered face. The apparitions eyes snapped open, gleaming black as soot. It raised up, staring into him as he jumped back. "You can't escape me Dean. You're gonna die. And this, this is what you're gonna become!"
Jeremy swung the bat down repeatedly. Smashing it into Sam's legs, his side. Kicking him as Sam tried to hold back laments of pain. He steadied the tip of the bat against Sam's chin. "You can't stop me. Not in here. I control everything." He said. Sam's jaw clinched tight in hatred. "Because of the dream root?" he asked, not making eye contact. "That's right." Jeremy answered. Sam smirked. "Well you're forgetting something." He said. "What's that?" Jeremy asked as he raised the bat up, ready to swing. Sam panted heavily. His eyes meeting the boys. "I took the dream root too." He said. "JEREMY!" An unknown voice echoed in the night.
Fear consumed the boys face as he turned from Sam. Coming face to face with the apparition of his father. "No…Dad?" He said. The man crossing the ground. Moving closer. "You answer me when I'm talking to you boy!" The man yelled. Jeremy was backing away. Consumed with terror as he dropped the bat. Then Sam was up, holding the bat. Bringing it down, smashing the boys skull. His brains spilling out onto the floor. The Winchester's woke with a start back inside the impala. Panting as they stared at each other.
Sam watched his brother sitting at the desk in their motel room. The older Winchester was currently field stripping his colt in an attempt to keep his fidgeting at bay. The alarm clocks radio on the bed side table playing 'Time' by Pink Floyd quietly in the back ground. Dean was rubbing a small drop of oil onto the side rails before reattaching the barrel to the slide. His eyes drifting up to Sam as he leaned against the desk next to him. Dean cleared his throat. His nerves getting the best of him.
His voice trembled as he spoke. "Hey Sam, I was wondering. When you were in my head what did you see?" As Dean put the last piece of the gun back together Sam pushed it aside, sliding across the desk. Moving himself so he was sitting on the edge with one leg on either side of Dean. His brother's hands sliding up his thighs timidly as he began to speak. "I saw us. What you want for us. A house. Normal lives. Kids." Dean's eyes shifted up to Sam's, searching for any judgement. He saw none. "De, you've never said anything. Your dreams are mine. I…god I love you so much." Sam said, sliding off the desk to straddle Dean's hips. Pressing their lips together. Watching Dean's eyes slowly close. Sam's hands run down the back of Dean's head as he softly pressed himself into Dean. Trying to convey the overwhelming love he felt inside.
He broke the kiss. They felt each other's warm breath on their lips as hands roamed each other's bodies. "What about you? What'd you see?" Sam asked. Dean placed his lips against Sam's neck, hiding his eyes by placing gentle kisses there. "Nothing. I was just looking for you the whole time." Dean whispered. It was a lie, Sam knew. He breathed a sigh of defeat as Dean lifted him up, carrying him in his arms. Walking them over to the bed. Gently laying Sam down. Climbing on top of him as skilled fingers began undressing him. Dean's tongue tracing a line down his stomach as he worked Sam's jeans open. Pulling them down, tossing them off the side of the bed. Sam bit his lips as Dean rose to a kneeling position above him. Sam's own hands running down Dean's stomach as his arms lifted his shirt off. Letting it slide off the bed to the floor along with his jeans.
They kissed themselves into a frenzy. Tongues battling each other for dominance as Dean ground his hips into Sam's. Precum soaking the front of their underwear. Dean nipped his shoulder, earning a hiss of pleasure from his little brother. "Take them off." He commanded as his fingers snapped the waist band of Sam's boxers. Sam did as he was told. Whimpering from the loss of Dean's body heat as the older man rose from the bed. Dean returned a moment later. Naked with a bottle of lube in hand. Sam watched with anxious need as Dean popped the cap open, squeezing some of the clear liquid onto his finger tips. His emerald orbs staring down into hazel with unwavering authority as he took Sam's hand, squeezing some of the lube into his palm. "Stroke yourself while I finger you Sammy." Dean commanded, his voice dark with lust.
Sam gasped at the feeling of cold lube in his warm palm as he grasped his achingly hard length in hand. His eyes locked on Dean's face he began slowly stroking his hand up and down his own cock. He watched Dean biting his lip as he rubbed his fingers tips together. Working to coat them in the lube, warming it. "Spread your legs for me baby boy." Dean said. Sam gasped as Dean's index finger began rubbing soft circles against the outside of his entrance. The tight hole puckering with a need to be filled, earning a raspy moan from the older Winchester. He pressed the finger in, past the first ring of muscle. Pushing in to the final knuckle as Sam moaned beneath him. The younger man bending his knees, pushing up onto the pads of his feet. Arching his back. Lifting his ass off the mattress as his head tipped back. His mouth opening to allow cries of pleasure to escape.
"Beautiful." Dean's said, more of a moan than a word as he took in the sight before him. Rewarding his brother by sliding a second finger inside him, scissoring them to open Sam's hole. Working the tight entrance, stretching it. All while Sam stroked his own cock. Up and down, giving a slight twist of his wrist to circle around the head. The way Dean did when he jerked Sam off. Precum dripping from the tip. When he slid a third finger inside Sam was cumming on his own belly. Writhing beneath him. Mewling needy cries. Whimpering as Dean pulled his fingers out of him. Then yelping in excitement as he heard the bottle cap open again. He tilted his head up to find Dean squirting some of the bottles contents onto his own length. The huge organ swollen and throbbing in its untouched state. A deep throaty groan bellowing out of him as Dean's hand spread the lube on himself. Getting it wet and ready for Sam.
"You ready for me Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head hastily. "Please De. Want you so bad." Dean leaned down over him, grasping his legs at the back of his knees. Sam gasped, crying out as he felt Dean's cock push inside him. Breaching the first ring of muscle then sliding in further with ease. Not stopping until he was buried balls deep inside Sam. The older man remaining still until Sam started to buck underneath him. Sliding his hands up to fist in Sam's shaggy hair he began thrusting. Soft and slow, yet deep and steady. Not fucking. Making love to Sam. Pulling out almost completely then sliding back home.
Sam's legs locked around his hips, holding him inside. As they touched each other with lips. Kissing cheeks, noses, necks, then finally letting their lips meet. Sam's hands roaming Dean's body. Gliding across his shoulders. Down his back to grip his firm ass cheeks as Dean thrust into him. The two of them molding together as one. Until they were both crying out loudly, cumming together. Sam holding Dean down tightly by the hips, feeling Dean's cum shooting inside him. Dean groaning at the feeling of Sam's erection twitching between their pressed together bodies. Feeling the hot cum spurting out onto their bellies.
Dean poured his love into Sam for hours. Placing Sam's legs over his shoulders as he gently plowed down into him. Thrusting forward as he jerked Sam off. Licking Sam's cum from his finger tips when he came again. Flipping them over to bring Sam on top of him. Letting Sam ride him until he was so exhausted he couldn't lift himself up anymore. Dean making sure they kept the pace slow and loving. "De please. Want you to fuck me now. Not rough. Just harder." Sam begged. Dean flipped Sam onto his knees. Thrusting back into him with a sharp snap of his hips. Then pounding into him hard and fast. Bringing them to the big finish. Sam's knees gave out as he came, screaming cries of pleasure. Dean doubled over onto Sam's back, his forehead pressed between Sam's shoulder blades as his finger tips dug into Sam's hips. Thrusting harshly one last time before his body grew still. Cumming deep inside Sam with a loud husky moan.
Dean lifted his weight off of Sam to pull out of him. Flipping him over onto his back before letting his body collapse down into Sam's arms. The two of them panting in exhaustion. They kissed lovingly as they came down from the height of pleasure. Dean's fingers tangled in Sam's hair as he nestled his head under Sam's chin. Yawning loudly before drifting off to sleep. Sam lay awake as his mind raced. Gently rubbing Dean's back as he imagined a baby girl and handsome twins that would never be. Holding back tears as he realized that in less than nine months he would bury his brother. Crying as he breathed in the smell of Dean. That intoxicating combination of leather, cheap cologne, and whiskey. The usual hint of motor oil replaced with gunpowder from cleaning his colt. Tears streamed down his face to wet the pillow case under his head until he drifted into a restless sleep.
The next morning Sam and Bobby walked side by side down the motel hallway. "So you did a little dream weaving of your own in there?" The old man asked. "Yeah. Um, I just sort of concentrated and it happened. You know?" Sam replied. "It didn't have anything to do with…you know, your psychic stuff?" Bobby asked timidly. Sam stopped walking. "No…I mean I don't think so." He said, his face and voice seeming so unsure of himself. "Good." Bobby said as they resumed, opening the door to the brother's room.
They stepped inside to find Dean hanging up his phone. "Hey you guys seen Bela? She's not in her room and she's not answering her phone." He asked. "She must have taken off." Sam said. Bobby shook his head. "Just like that? Don't you think that's a little weird?" Dean asked. "Well if you ask me what's weird is why she helped us in the first place." Bobby said. The boys turned to look at him. "I thought you saved her life." Dean said. Bobby's face was confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" The old man asked. "That thing in Flagstaff." Dean said.
"That thing in flag staff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all." Bobby said. The boys looked at each other. "You boys better check your pockets." Bobby stated. Sam and Dean literally started checking their pockets. "Not literally…" The old man rumbled sarcastically. Dean rolled his eyes, turning to look at the closet. "No, no, no." He chanted as he opened the door of the safe. It was empty. "The colt." Sam said as Dean slammed the safe door shut. "Pack your bags." Dean barked. Anger pouring off of him like hot lava.
It wasn't long before they were sitting in the impala. Sam was waiting for Dean to crank her up but he was just sitting there, staring out the windshield. Dean cleared his throat before speaking. "Sam I've been doing some thinking." He said quietly. "Yeah?" Sam turned to look at him. "And uh…thing is." Dean said before pausing. Sam waited, sitting patiently. This was going to be big and he knew it. "I don't wanna die." Dean said, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I don't wanna go to hell." His voice cracked with emotion. His eyes darting back and forth, unable to meet Sam's gaze.
Sam nodded, reaching over to take Dean's hand in his. "Ok…well…we know a way. I'll do it for you Dean." Dean's hand squeezed Sam's tightly. "I don't like it. Pretty sure I'm gonna like it even less after it starts. But you're right. We have to be together in this. No matter what happens. I'll have your back. I'll keep you safe." Dean said as his head tilted up to finally meet Sam's eyes. A serious devotion within the stormy green. "Ok…after we get the colt back. We'll summon Regina." Dean turned the key in the ignition before he reached over pulling Sam across the seat to lean against him, placing his arm over Sam's shoulders.