Author's Note: Sorry I haven't posted since...wow, Wednesday. Thank you to all who reviewed! I don't own Sam, Dean, or Supernatural. The Catcher and the plot are my own ideas. Warning--a little blood and some language. Please review!

Sam took a step back in surprise.

It had taken the form of a very tall, lanky man with a shock of dark hair that was cut short so nothing took away from the intensity of its black eyes. He had on a simple black suit and matching shoes. But his face was somewhat gaunt; there was nothing handsome about the form the Catcher had taken on. It laughed.

"Yes, it is in fact true. Nice that someone knows what it means--it's never any fun if I have to explain it to my victim. And might I add, you're by far the most interesting victim I've ever dealt with. Some interesting dreams . . . dreams that deal with the true problems of life. Death. Spirits. Guilt," it explained, pacing around Sam. "It's really too bad about your little girlfriend there. She had such a pretty face. Didn't help her much in the end, now did it? The only thing that really could have helped her . . . was you, Sam. Not that it matters now. Nothing will matter soon. As we speak, your body is being destroyed and I . . . I am growing stronger. Soon Sam and Dean Winchester will be nothing more than two lifeless bodies, their minds trapped in horrible nightmare. It's really too bad. It would be interesting to see what nightmare's Dean have. And oh yes, Dean has nightmares. You're not the only 'tortured' brother. But you don't really ask him, you don't really think about how Dean is at night, now do you?" The Catcher chuckled to itself. "It's amazing how much there is to say. But I really don't have time for this, as enjoyable as this is."

Sam inhaled. "I'm not afraid of you. You can't hurt me here." In response, the Catcher reached out and stroked Sam's cheek with a slender finger. Instantly his cheek burned, as if the finger left a trail of fire. Sam stared in utter confusion.

"That's right," replied the Catcher. It pulled out a knife and toyed with it as it circled Sam. Then, Sam felt something cold and sharp travel down in back, followed by wet, sticky blood. He was waiting . . . waiting to strike . . .

As it completed its circle, Sam attacked. Sam punched the Catcher in the stomach, sending it back a few steps. But the Catcher just laughed and laughed.

Dean was running.

The dirt path ended and the neighbor was in view. But where to go now? No one had bothered to mention where exactly Sam was trapped. He surveyed the houses, looking for anything different. There's Dean's old house, and that's where Sam and Jessica had lived. There was one house that stood out. It was larger than the rest, and in the very center of the neighborhood. But it wasn't just that

The sky was darker there.

Dean raced forward on a guess, flung the door open and came face-to-face with a very tall man.

"Dean!" exclaimed the man. "How nice of you to join us." The man stepped aside for Dean to walk in, and as Dean took an unsure step, he saw Sam standing in shock, blood dripping down onto the floor from his back.

Dean didn't need to say anything. The two brothers exchanged looks. The man shoved Dean inside, than examined the two.

"Don't try to fight me," the man warned. Catcher, Dean guessed. He mouthed the word to Sam, who gave a small, curt nod in answer. "Yes, the 'Catcher.' As Sam could tell you, I can hurt you two. You two, however, will find that you can't hurt me."

Dean stood absolutely still, contemplating his options. There were very few, and all very risky. Option One: Escape. How would that help? They needed to defeat him and get out of here! Scratch that option. Option Two: Fight. It just said they can't hurt him. There goes another option.

face it with words

Dean glanced at Sam. Sam certainly didn't say that. Who did?

Sam needs to face it

Dean pushed the matter aside-he'd bring it up with Sam later, maybe. "Sammy," Dean whispered. "Face it with words." Sam gave another small nod, remembering.

"It's not nice to whisper. How about you tell me what you two were talking about?" suggested the Catcher. Sam paused, than took a step forward.

"Okay. I will," Sam responded. Dean inhaled and held his breath. It was all up to Sammy now.

Sam wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to say. Dean was waiting. The Catcher was waiting. But the Catcher wouldn't wait to destroy Sam's body. It already was.

"You think you know me, but you don't." Everyone, including Sam, was surprised by those words. Encouraged, somehow, Sam continued, "You think you understand me, but you don't. You've been trying to use my fears and worries against me, but you can't. No one-no one gets my fears besides me. It's pointless. You're trying to use pain against me, but pains never bothered me. The truth is, you don't know me."

"I know all about you, Sam," answered the Catcher without missing a beat. Sam took another step.

"You don't!" he found himself yelling. "And you're not going to win either! Because I know this isn't how it's going to end! It's going to end after I found the damn thing that killed Mom, and killed Jess! And you're not going to change that because I won't let you. I won't. Fucking. Let you."

The Catcher looked a little uneasy. "How are you going to stop me? I've been unstoppable since the dawn of time."

"I'm different." There, Sam said it! It was such a relief to admit it. Sam was different. Dean was different. The whole family was different. "I have a purpose. My brother and I, we have a purpose. We're not like the rest. We know what's going on, and we can stop it. We're different."

"Go ahead. Stop it." Sam paused. The Catcher did look weakened, smaller, maybe. Sam could strike now. Win.

"It's time for us to wake up," Sam whispered. His voice got louder. "Now. I'm tired of this game you've been playing." The Catcher was shifted its feet, and now it positively was smaller. Everyone else had cowered in fear. Let him win. This one, this one was fighting back. Sam had defeated the fears. That had weakened it some already.

"Now!" Sam screamed. There was a horrible, ripping noise. The Catcher seemed to break up, black fog spilling out of its last form. The world around Sam and Dean was shattering. Then Sam was being sucked somewhere. Colors and sounds and sights were flying around. He reached out blindly for Dean but Dean was gone. The colors and sounds and sights were fading away to a horrible nothingness.

And then, suddenly, it was all over.

Author's Note: And that's where I'll leave you. I think there's just one more chapter, two at the most. Please review!