Chapter Ten

"Dean, tell me about the nightmares. Tell me what scared you so badly." John urged his son.

Dean was hesitant to tell his dad. He had never confessed what he saw the night Mom died. As far as Dad knew, he had never been in Sammy's room that night after Mary was put on the ceiling. He had lived with his memories all these years without ever telling. He always felt his dad had enough pain dealing with his own memories, besides Dad had never asked. What good would it do for him to know his four year old son had also seen the same horrendous sight?

Dean had spent his life trying to protect his family and he still didn't want to add to his dad's grief. He still didn't want to say the words. If he didn't say them, then maybe he could pretend it wasn't so, that it was just a terrible nightmare. After all, that was how he managed to deal with his memories all these years. As a four year old he had struggled with the memories and had somehow convinced himself it was all a bad dream: a nightmare that tormented him when he closed his eyes.

"Dean, I need to know what the nightmares were. I know it's hard, but you need to tell me."

Dean was grateful Dad had sent Sam to his room. There would be no way in hell he could tell of that nightmare with Sammy here. He never wanted his brother to know the truth. Pastor Jim had stayed to offer his assistance and it would take all his fortitude to reveal his nightmares to his dad and Jim.

"Dad, the first nightmares were of the vampire shooting me with the arrow and you tending the wound. Then they progressed to cover our other exploits with evil beings. Every evil battle we waged over the last few years would come back to me in my dreams."

"Did these dreams repeat?" John questioned.

"No, not for long."

"Dean, what was the nightmare that caused you the anxiety?" John gently prodded.

Dean was anguished just thinking about revealing his nightmare to his dad. He knew he had to provide the information Dad needed to win this battle but it hurt him to expose his pain. It felt like picking at a scab until the raw wound bled and he was afraid once it started bleeding he wouldn't be able to stop it, that it would never scab over again. He hated being vulnerable. Denial was his way of dealing with his pain. To speak of his torment gave the nightmares more strength, more power.

As much as he wanted to deny this discussion, he knew it was unavoidable. He hesitated several times as he relayed his nightmare. He struggled to get the words out and control the emotions that were seizing his heart.

"Dad, it started as the nightmare I used to have after Mom died, but it changed, it mutated. The fire followed me down the stairs and set me on fire. Then it consumed Sammy. I watched him burn to ash in my arms. The pain of losing Sammy and Mom was so overwhelming. I felt alone. The emptiness was all consuming. I felt like I was being swallowed by a black hole."

Dean had to stop to collect his thoughts. The sympathy in his dad's eyes only made his pain more unbearable. He hated this evil son of a bitch for plunging his family into this hell. It took a moment before he was able to continue.

"Dad, it felt so real. I couldn't tell what was real and what was dream. This voice called out to me that Sammy wanted me to join him. It told me to go into the darkness. It told me to kill myself so I wouldn't be alone anymore. I felt this evil presence growing stronger in my mind. It was like it was feeding off of my anguish. As it grew more powerful, I became weaker. I couldn't fight it." Dean finished and cast his eyes downward.

Dean omitted the extent of his original nightmare; it didn't seem relevant to his ordeal. There was no purpose in exposing his dad to the complete truth. He had kept his secret for twelve years. He saw no reason to reveal it now.

Tears came to John's eyes. He felt his son's anguish. He knew what loneliness felt like. If it had not been for his two young sons and his vendetta, he himself would have descended into that black hole when Mary died. He hated this evil dreamwalker for making his son relive his mom's death and making him feel the loss of his brother. He wished he could erase all the torment Dean had suffered. He vowed he would destroy this evil being so no other soul could be tortured by it.

"Dad, I couldn't control my actions. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I couldn't stop myself. I can't believe I almost did that to Sammy. What's doing this to me? Do you know? Can you stop it?" Dean's voice sounded almost desperate. He was ashamed of trying to kill himself and putting his brother through this nightmare. He always thought he could control any situation and it was deeply disturbing to realize he could not.

"Dean, whatever is doing this is very powerful. I'm amazed you were able to overcome its control. I think the bond you have with your brother gave you the strength to fight it. I'm afraid we haven't won yet. It will probably want to control you even more now; it will be hungry for more of your anguish. But don't worry, I'll figure this out. For now, you need to get some sleep."

"Dad, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

John reached out and placed his hand on his son's shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Dean, that amulet will keep whatever it is out of your mind. Don't worry. It's safe to sleep. I'll be right here with you."

Dean was nervous just thinking about sleeping. He knew he needed to sleep but he feared what dreams may come.

His tired body finally won out as his anxiety eased and he drifted off to sleep. He descended into the deep, restful sleep that had eluded him for almost a week. He slept peacefully. If he dreamed they were the normal pleasant dreams that just served to pass the night. John slept in the chair by his bed just in case his son's torment returned. Dean slept for ten hours before he finally stirred and opened his eyes.

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"Better. How long did I sleep?"

"Ten hours."

"Do I still look like hell?"

"Not too bad. Definitely better than before. Dean, when did the nightmares start? Did anything happen before they started?" John was still trying to figure this out.

Dean thought for a moment before he realized the nightmares started the night of his basketball practice. He cursed himself for not realizing the connection before, his only excuse being his mind had not been operating clearly.

"Dad, the kids in gym saw my scars from the arrow wound. They were fascinated by my injury. They actually asked me if I had nightmares over my wounds. That was the first nightmare I had, when the vampire shot me with the arrow. That has to mean something."

"That's got to be what triggered this dreamwalker's interest in you. It must be connected to school." Dad hoped they finally had a grasp on Dean's plight.

"But how are we going to find it?" Dean asked.

"We'll have to stake out the school. Keep an eye out for students that appear sleep deprived or riddled with anxiety. Since this dreamwalker can't get to you, it will feed off of other students. You'll have to go back to school and keep an eye out for signs."

"How long will Pastor Jim's amulet protect me?" Dean asked, hoping his voice didn't reveal his concern.

"You'll be safe as long as you keep it around your neck. No need for you to worry, it won't be able to get to you." John assured him.

Dean steeled himself to the prospect of returning to school the next day. He hated being afraid of this dreamwalker when he normally didn't feel fear when he faced evil beings. This was just a little too personal for him; he still remembered the terror he felt at the control this evil had over his emotions and actions. He still remembered the panic when he looked into that deep, black abyss.

Sam was relieved his brother had recuperated so quickly, but he wanted to know more about his nightmares. He quizzed his older brother on just what he had seen. Why he thought Sammy had died? What did it feel like?

Dean understood his brother's curiosity but he couldn't bear to answer his questions. He knew Sam was only hoping to help him, to understand his anguish, and his brother didn't get his reluctance to share.

"Dean, what was it like?"

"Sammy, it was a nightmare. That's all."