Note: This is my first fanfic, please R & R! It takes place anytime after Wendigo and before Home.

Rating: PG for some language

Disclaimers: I don't own Sam and Dean, nor do I own Supernatural. Sigh

Summary: What if Sam went to sleep, but never woke up?

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Dean Winchester always drove, and Sam always sat passenger.

Dean pressed PLAY on his radio and blasted mullet rock. Sam looked away from the window only long enough to glare at him and his music choice.

"Don't you have any current rock?" Sam asked. "Green Day? System of a Down?"

"Can't hear you," Dean answered, turning the volume up from 7 to 8.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Where ever the wind takes up," Dean responded. The last few days were awful-nothing but open, cracked road and a few shady gas stations. The last time they slept somewhere decent was Sunday night, and today was Thursday.

"I think the winds taking us to the diner," hinted Sam, pointing out a medium sized diner titled "Wake up." Deans searched his memory—something about this town seemed familiar, mainly that diner. But he let it leave his mind, after all, it was the first town for miles.

"You read my mind!" Dean said pulling into the parking lot. He parked the door, locked it, and patted the car. "Don't worry I'll be back soon" he told the car. Sam rolled his eyes and the two entered the diner and sat down at a booth, across from each other.

A waitress walked over. She had curly blond hair tied up in a ponytail, and bright green eyes with long eyelashes. Her outfit was tight, her teeth grinded but white.

"What can I get you boys?" she asked with a flirty smile. Sam glanced at the menu than at her.

"I'll have coffee and pancakes," Sam told her.

"I'll have waffles and . . ." Dean eyed her denim clad legs with a flirty smile. ". . . A coffee."

"Sure, anything else?" the waitress asked them. Sam checked to see how much money was on him.

"A bacon side," Sam added. The waitress put the pencil behind her ear. "You got it," she said. The waitress spun around, letting her blonde hair slide out of its low ponytail, and letting the scrunchie land onto their table. Dean whistled.

"Now that's a flirty girl," Dean declared. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, she must be what, 17 years old?" Dean sighed. He stood and took a newspaper from a stack here the door and began to flip through the pages. He circled an Ohio murder.

"Look like our kind of thing?" Sam took the article and read through it quickly.

"Have you even read this article?" Sam asked him, pushing the article away.

"Of course, Sammy," Dean answered. Sam nodded with a smile.

"Than you'd know that they already found the murderer." Dean smiled a sheepish grin.

"Who needs reading when I got you?" he asked, flipping to the next page. The waitress came back, holding two coffee's on a brown platter. She placed both cups down in front of the brothers, than added a few packs of sugar and milk. She stared at Dean for a moment.

"You look familiar," the waitress said finally. Dean cocked his head and gave her the smile.

"You too-"Dean started, but suddenly she exclaimed:

"Are you Dean Winchester?" she exclaimed. Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Then he nodded with a tight lipped grin. The waitress was getting excited now. "You and your father saved my sisters life!"

"Oh," Dean replied in a surprised sort of way. "And, uh, when was this?"

"Four years ago. When I was 14. My dads name is Kevin Hucksin, I'm Josie Hucksin? The Cothway Barn, remember?" Josie asked him, a broad smile breaking her face. Dean thought.

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?" John asked. Kevin looked to Josie, who was shivering. She zipped up her sweatshirt.

"She said she was going to the Cothway Barn with Nick. Than when she came back . . ."Josie trailed off, squirming in the hospital's old chair. Dean looked at his dad.

"Possession?" he whispered in a low voice. John gave a small nod, but it could be for Dean or Josie. Or both.

"I think we can help you," John finally told the worried parents.

"I remember that," Dean told Josie.

"This one's on the house," she said, going off to collect their breakfasts. Sam turned to Dean questionably.

"Her sister—Karla, I think—went into that barn and came out possessed. We saved the girl, and of course, the family knows our job now. I think the mom actually owns this diner. The dad's some kind of dream doctor. Maybe you should see him." Sam ignored the last comment.

"You remember a case from 4 years old?" Sam asked doubtfully "It didn't have to with Josie?" Dean held up his hands in surrender.

"I can remember all of my cases," Dean said. Than Josie came back with two heaping platters of food, and silence took over.

That night, after Dean said hi to Josie's entire family, they settled down in a hotel. Dean took off his shirt and grabbed the remote control. Laying down on one of the two twin beds, he began to flip through the channels.

"I was getting freakin' tired of motels," he said happily. Sam shook his head and turned the TV off before heading to his own bed.

"I'm heading to bed."

"Aw, come on! This TV has 200 channels!"

"'Night, Dean.

"Goodnight Sam."

Sam flipped the switch, but it was Dean who fell asleep as soon as he crawled into bed. And when Sam did fall asleep . . .

Jessica was pinned to the ceiling.

Burning.

Mangled.

Bloody.

Dead.

Sam woke with a scream. Dean sat up, leaning on his elbows for support.

"What?" Dean asked in a groggy voice. Sam rolled over, thankful for the dark where his burning cheeks were invisible.

"Oh, uh, sorry Dean. It's nothing." Dean would have normally leapt out of bed and demanded Sam tell him what happened, but several days on little sleep was taking a toll on Dean. Thank God for lack of motels.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam lied. Dean lay back on his bed and Sam could hear the rustle of covers.

"Good. I was having a dream about that waitress's older sister." Sam rolled his eyes and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. Dean was asleep in seconds.

Then the window opened a crack with a low hiss of a creak. Wind rushed in and seemed to go straight to Sam, snaking around him. Sam sunk lower into his covers, pulling them around him. Yet somehow the wind seemed to go inside the covers, inside Sam. The wind was invisible yet he knew it raced around him, diving to his chest.

And Sam slept.

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