Author's Note: I don't own Supernatural. Thanks everyone for reading & reviewing! This is chapter 8; I think there's going to be 10 or 11 chapters in all.

Sam expected his feet to be aching, from all the walking on the rocky trail.

But it wasn't really reality, and he felt fine. A little worn, a little tired maybe. But all together, Sam was back with Dean, and everything was going to be okay, right?

But Sam had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't explain it--something was off. He searched his brother's face for any trace of the same feeling, but Dean's face remained emotionless as he trudged on. He's thinking, Sam guessed. After all, there was a lot to think about.

The path ended suddenly. The trees halted and the hard soil gave away to grass. Sam stepped out of the forest like trail thankfully, hoping to see some light, but the sky remained dimly lit. They were back where Sam had just escaped from, something like a neighborhood, rows of houses. But some held horrors, some held memories, some held demons, and some held an eerie emptiness. Dean looked over the neighborhood.

"Talk about Nightmare on Elm Street," he muttered. Sam shifted uncomfortably as his brother examined the area.

"Ok, now what?" Sam blurted out. "You said there's more to face, but what's left?"

"Just the Catcher," Dean replied. Sam paused. He wasn't ready for this. But then again, he didn't think he was ready for Jessica. But Sam had to be ready.

And, Sam realized proudly, I was.

"So what do I have to do?"

You have to get away from here

Sam looked up, surprised. "Did you say something?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head, confused. The voice had come suddenly, and he couldn't place the voice. But he knew the speaker. "Did you hear something" Another shake of Dean's head. With a start, Sam realized that there was no doubt that that the voice had come from inside Sam's head. But what did its warning mean?

"Sam, you okay? Sam?" Dean was questioned. Sam told him yeah, he was fine. Whatever. Sam wasn't really concentrating on that right now.

"What do I have to do?" Sam repeated. Dean stared at him for a moment, and for a moment, Dean's eyes turned cold. But then it passed and Dean was back to his old self.

"Not sure . . . guess we'll have to improvise," Dean replied as he walked towards the neighborhood. Sam scratched his head and hurried after Dean.

"Where are we heading?" Another shrug. "Dean!" "DEAN!" At this last yell, Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders and whirled him around. "Man, you gotta talk to me!"

At Sam's touch Dean froze. His eyes turned cold again, and he flinched away. His brother surveyed Sam in an eerie way. "Sorry, Sam." Where was the 'Sammy?' Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

"I just got this . . . uh . . . feeling the Catchers in that house. It's like the, uh, center of this place. See how it's taller than the rest and all?" Dean explained. Sam gave a small nod and followed Dean into the house.

Don't follow him, Sammy, don't follow him

For the third time that day, Dean wished he had his trusty Impala with him. This walking thing sucked. He angrily kicked at a pile of dead leaves as he walked towards the forest trail. That was wear the footprints were found--only one set.

Sam's.

Also for the third time today, Dean tried calling Sam. For some damn reason, it wouldn't even ring this time. Nothing. Like Sam was disconnected from the world.

From Dean.

Sam didn't know what possessed him to do it. But as they opened the door and stepped inside, Sam took out his cell phone. Three missed calls, all from Dean. "One minute." Dean waited, annoyed. Sam didn't ask Dean about the messages. He barely realized what he was doing-dialing Dean's cell phone number.

Sam never heard the ring.

"I called your cell. Why isn't it ringing?" Sam asked. Dean fumbled around in hic pockets and pulled out the silent cell phone. But someone picked up.

"Sammy-" came the voice on the other hand. But then Dean-Dean?-grabbed the cell and smashed it onto the floor. His eyes turned cold, like ice, he seemed to grow a few feet until he towered over Sammy.

"You're not Dean," Sam muttered. Do you think? The real Dean would sarcastically say if he were here.

The figure smiled. "Your right. I'm not. And I'm not some fake dream Dean either."

"Than who are you?" Sam asked, taking a nervous step back.

"My real name doesn't seem to interest anyone," the figure answered. "Everyone seems to refer to me as the Catcher."

Author's Note: 'K, there was the chapter. Please review! lyl!