Chapter Nine

The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die.

The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me.

He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live.

Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within.

The nightmare kept replaying in Dean's mind. Whatever was controlling his thoughts, although thwarted in its attempt to control his actions, was not going to release his mind. It kept rewinding this nightmare over and over again. Dean lay on the floor trapped in this cycle of misery. Sam felt helpless as he sat handcuffed and watched his brother's agony. Dean had somehow managed to overcome his urge to kill himself, but he was still not free of this evil presence in his mind.

John burst through the front door, not sure what he would find. He had tried to call and had gotten no answer. His mind had played out multiple scenarios, none of which was good. Still, he was not prepared for what he found.

Dean was lying on the floor twitching through his nightmares, a small pool of blood on the floor below the knife wounds in his neck, the rest of his lost blood soaked up by his now bloody t-shirt. John rushed to his side. Dean was breathing heavily, obviously in a great deal of distress. His dad called out to him but got no response, just a distant stare as his wide-open eyes failed to focus.

"Sammy, what happened?"

"Dad, it was terrible. Whatever is making Dean have these nightmares, tried to get him to kill himself. It had him convinced I died as a baby and it was all his fault. He cut himself with his knife. Somehow we broke through and he realized what he was doing. I thought he was going to be OK and then he just clutched his head and fell to the floor. I think his nightmare is replaying in his mind, I can't get him to wake up."

John unlocked the cuffs on Sam's wrists and sent him for the first aid box. He wiped the blood off of Dean's throat and inspected his cuts. The wounds were bloody, but not too severe. Thankfully, Dean had not reached the point were he seriously tried to kill himself. He was too good a hunter, if he had meant to kill himself, he certainly knew how. These wounds were designed more to torment and torture.

John wrapped his older son's arm over his shoulder and carried him to the sofa. He laid him down and tended to his cuts. He needed several stitches and his dad quickly stitched him up and bandaged his neck.

John was deeply disturbed by the appearance of his son. Sam had been right, Dean looked like hell. His eyes were sunken into his face and surrounded by dark circles. He looked like one of the walking dead. His face was a ghostly pale from the loss of blood with the only color coming from the purple and black bruise on his jaw. The most disturbing aspect was the vacant, blank stare of Dean's eyes.

John had to figure out a way to help his son. He needed to expel whatever was possessing his mind before his mind disintegrated from within. He had a limited knowledge of dreamwalkers and had never before encountered anything like this.

He had only a vague idea of what was happening, based on Sammy's observations. He needed his son to return to them and tell of his nightmares and how this evil permeated his mind. He would need Dean's help to overcome this evil and he prayed that somehow he could retrieve his son.

He picked up the phone and called Pastor Jim. He hoped he might have something in his treasure trove of religious artifacts and relics that could release his son from this torment. Pastor Jim had been a mentor to John in his search for answers. Jim had battled evil forces for the last twenty years and was at the forefront in the battle between good and evil. Jim said he had a protection charm that might work, and he would bring it to the house.

John nervously waited, hoping his son would survive this crisis. He was not good at waiting, it gave his mind too much time to reflect on the past and how much he had lost and how much he still stood to lose. He always felt better when he was engaged in a conflict, waiting made him feel helpless. Perhaps that helped explain why he was forever leaving his sons to wage battle with evil forces.

Pastor Jim pulled up to the house after an interminable wait. John met him at the door and Jim handed him a small, gold, ornately carved box only a few inches wide. John opened the box to find a gold Egyptian amulet nestled in red satin. He sent Sam to get the leather necklace Dean had received the year before from the Navaho Nation. When Sam brought it, John took the silver turquoise piece off and slid the Egyptian amulet on in its place. He tied the leather around Dean's neck and prayed it would protect his son. Pastor Jim said it might take some time before they would know if it was working.

Its power was strong. It took only a few minutes before Dean blinked his eyes and seemed to be focusing.

"Dean, can you hear me? Say something." John demanded.

Dean slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was as if the fog was lifting and he could once again return to reality. The memories of his nightmares still lingered in the shadows of his mind but they weren't consuming him. The terror they inspired still hung in his heart but he felt free of their control for the moment.

"Yeah Dad, I hear you."

Dean felt his neck where his dad had bandaged his wounds. He remembered his actions, they were like a dream he couldn't control. He couldn't believe he was almost coerced into killing himself. He couldn't believe he almost subjected his brother to watching that. Whatever had done this to him was going to pay. This was personal.