Disclaimer: Unfortunately the Winchesters don't belong to me, I just like to borrow them from time to time. No money is being made and no harm is intended, I just like playing with them.

A/N: I live in England so the series is only just finishing here, meaning my fic might have some discrepancies with the series. I also had this idea and wrote this fic just after the episode 'Home', so nothing after this episode influenced my writing. This fic is roughly based in the period between 'Asylum' and 'Scarecrow.'

I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave a review. Constructive criticism is extremely welcome.

Witch Trials

Chapter 1: – Fire, Smoke and Tears.

FLASH:

A girl lay sprawled out on her bed, her chestnut-coloured curly hair carelessly strewn across her pillow, the bed sheets tangled round her waist. The clock on an antique dresser turned midnight.

FLASH:

A blue glowing light surrounded the sleeping girl's slender frame. She thrashed fitfully in her sleep and sat bolt upright, as if coming out of a nightmare; perspiration shining on her forehead in the dim light. Looking down, the glowing light startled her. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief she glanced down again, seeing nothing. Shaking her head and sighing, she threw herself down onto her pillow wearily.

FLASH:

It was daytime. Sunlight flooded the hallway as a door swung open to reveal a kitchen full of balloons, presents and smiles.

FLASH:

It was night time. The girl entered her parent's bedroom. She froze, seeing her mother pinned against the wall behind her bed in a Crucifix position.

FLASH:

The girl screamed as her frightened mother was consumed by flames and the room filled with thick, choking smoke, she collapsed to the floor, intermittently coughing between her desperate screams.

"Sam!" a voice called faintly. "Sammy!" Dean stood over his younger brother, worry etched across his tired but handsome face. He desperately tried to rouse his brother as he continued to toss and turn in his sleep letting out muffled yells. "Come on Sammy, wake up!"

Sam shot up straight, sitting on his bed drenched in a cold sweat, his tear-filled eyes staring, horrified, at the opposite wall.

"Whoa Sammy! It's me! It's Dean," Dean said urgently, sitting beside him on the bed and throwing his arms open as Sam collided with his chest. He put his arms on Sam's shaking shoulders and looked in to his brother's tormented face. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

The pair sat in a crummy motel room, its faded flowery wallpaper peeling off the paper-thin walls, the woodwork yellowing and chipped. The sparse furniture, old and tattered, was falling apart and the dilapidated beds creaked ominously under their muscular forms.

Sam, finally snapping out of the vision, shifted on the creaking bed and swallowed hard trying to focus. His head ached and the girl's desperate and terrified screams rang in his ears. He looked up into his brother's worried face. "Dean … it's happening again!" Sam started, desperately trying to untangle himself from the cheap motel sheets which were twisted round his legs.

"What's happening again?" Dean said quickly, trying to focus his brother's wandering attention. "You were screaming and thrashing around in your sleep."

"Dean I saw it! Whatever it was! The thing that killed mom and Jessica! It's happening again! I saw it! It attacked a woman, and her daughter … her daughter … she was screaming!"

Dean shook Sam roughly by the shoulders. "Sammy where … where is it?"

"I … I … I dunno," said Sam in confusion, his face creasing up in concentration. "But I saw it Dean! I saw it! It was like I was watching it as it happened in snapshots, in flashes," he said pleadingly, looking his brother in the eye.

"It's okay Sammy, it's okay," said Dean, roughly pulling his brother into a tense hug. Sam sagged against him wearily, breathing in Dean's scent, reminding him instantly of the Impala.

"It's Sam," Sam corrected weakly.

"Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying," Dean smirked, forcing a hollow laugh. He held his brother protectively, desperately wanting to take away the pain only Sam could experience with each passing vision. He felt like he was steadily losing his younger brother, like he was slipping through his fingers and he was powerless to stop it. Every vision brought something Dean couldn't understand, and all he could do was to watch on helplessly as Sam struggled to deal with his, their, complicated life.

Sam pulled away from his brother and there was a stiff silence, each avoiding the other's furtive gaze: knowing Dean wasn't big on sentimental moments. "What exactly did you see?" Dean asked finally.

"I saw this girl lying asleep in bed-"

"Why is it you always get visions about women?" Dean said, cracking a smile and trying, the only way he knew how, to lighten the tension that was slowly suffocating the room. "I guess it goes a fair way to making up for the pain they cause ya. Was she cute?"

Sam rolled his eyes trying to ignore his brother's weak attempt at infusing humour into the situation. "She was glowing," he muttered, knowing full well Dean was more troubled by the vision than he was letting on.

"Aye aye," said Dean with a mischievous grin.

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that." Dean continued to grin. Sam let out an audible groan and punched his brother on the shoulder playfully. "She was glowing, literally. You know, like blue!"

"Oh," said Dean, raising his eyebrow with a bemused expression on his face.

"Now would you use your upstairs brain for a while," muttered Sam, pointing to his head.

"Aww shut ya mouth," retorted Dean. "So besides the glowing girl, what else d'ya see?"

"It was midnight-"

"The witching hour," Dean muttered as Sam nodded.

"It was someone's birthday … and then I saw it! This girl walked into a bedroom and she saw, what I assume was her mother, pinned against the wall, and then the flames…"

"Pinned against the wall?" said Dean perplexed.

"Yes Dean. You know stuck to the wall unable to move," Sam started angrily, struggling out of bed.

"Okay okay, keep that mop you call hair on," Dean muttered, his brow furrowed.

"What are you thinking?" Sam said after an awkward silence.

"Well it's just that mom and Jessica were pinned to the ceiling."

"God Dean does it matter! The woman burst into flames!" Sam almost shouted.

"Sam, think … where did all this happen?"

Sam leant against the wall straining his mind, trying to think of anything that could tell him where his vision had been. "DAMN IT!" he shouted in frustration. "I … I can't … but it happened. I know it did. It was just like the dreams I had about Jess and our old house. I can feel it."

Dean reached for the laptop which sat on the dilapidated chest of draws next to the bed and pulled it onto his lap. Turning it on, he grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over his head roughly and ran a hand through his hair. Grumbling, he looked over at the clock. 'Five am,' he groaned inwardly.

"Are you sure it wasn't just your standard regular nightmare? I mean with Jess and all-" Dean sighed, looking up over the laptop at Sam who was pacing the room.

"DEAN," Sam shot at him crossly. "I know it happened!"

"Well I don't know what to tell ya buddy, but nothing has come up," said Dean heavily.

"Are you sure? Have you checked everywhere?" Sam continued, coming to a halt in front of Dean.

"Look man, enough is enough. I've been looking at this screen for-" he glanced over at the clock which read eight am "- three hours. I'm tired and my eyes are going funny."

"But Dean-" Sam began.

"Look Sam, I wanna get the thing that killed mom and Jess as much as you do, but we've got nothing to go on. Let's just go and get some breakfast and try again later," he said sliding off the bed and stretching his stiff limbs. "It's early, if anything happened last night, the story isn't gonna be up for a while yet and until we've got something more concrete to go on we can't do anything."

Sam yanked on a pair of trainers and followed Dean, who had grabbed his jacket and keys, out the door. His face creased up trying to think of anything that could help them.

The following night, Dean's mobile phone, which he'd abandoned on the bedside table, vibrated loudly, its buzz magnifying and echoing around the near silent motel room.

"Uhhhhh," Dean groaned sluggishly, as he threw his arm out clumsily and knocked over the lamp. It fell with an ear-splitting crash which pierced the quiet of the room and woke Sam up with a start.

"Shit Dean!" Sam muttered through clenched teeth, as his tensed muscles, poised and ready for attack, relaxed and he sank back onto his pillow.

Shut up bitch," Dean replied, as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Jerk," Sam muttered, grabbing hold of his pillow, and launching it at Dean's head with a grin. "It's four am dude; we've been in bed less than two hours. That better not be one of your innumerable girlfriends!"

Dean flashed him one of his most mischievous and cheeky smiles before turning his attention to the phone. He flicked it open, ruffling his hair with his free hand, and clicked on the new message icon. As he read the message the smile slid from his face. He sat up straight in his bed, shrugging off the overwhelming tiredness which was struggling to seize control of his limbs.

"It's from Dad."

"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Sam said in alarm.

Dean held out his hand, silently offering the phone to Sam.

"Covesville, North Carolina?" he muttered, looking up at Dean, his forehead creased in concentration.

"Read on," Dean urged.

Sam scrolled down. Dean, I need you and Sam to check out Covesville, North Carolina. I'd go myself but I have a lead I need to follow up on. I can't say anymore. But it's important Dean! It's an order! Shaking his head slightly in frustration and biting back the bitter feelings that welled up inside him, he handed the phone back to Dean and reached for the laptop.

Dean slunk round the bed and sat down beside him, glancing over his brother's shoulder as Sam searched out the appropriate websites. Scrolling down to the local news reports he scanned the articles until his eyes hit on the one he dreaded seeing.

Jumping off the bed as though he'd been electrocuted and bashing his brother in the chin, he fell over his feet trying to pull on his jeans and T –shirt. Getting in a total mess, Dean broke down into hysterics before finally untangling his struggling brother.

"There," he muttered, still grinning as he sank back down onto the bed. Sam stood in the dim light looking flustered. "That hurt you know," Dean continued, rubbing his jaw gingerly before grabbing hold of the map which was flung haphazardly on the dilapidated chair in the corner.

"Dean move your fat ass, we gotta go!" Sam muttered, as he searched the messy floor for his jacket.

"North Carolina is a two and a half day drive across country Sam," he said as he scanned the map hastily. "We need more than a couple of hours sleep before we do this."

"Dean we don't have time. The thing that killed mom and Jessica is there. I can feel it. Look at the article, it says a woman died under mysterious circumstances last night and was found by her daughter. We have to hurry."

"Sam listen, if it was the thing that killed mom and Jess wouldn't dad have gone there himself instead of following up some lead?"

"Dean we don't have time for this, COME ON!"

"When the hell did you get so eager to hunt?" said Dean, his temper rising with Sam's impatience.

"When did you grow a brain?" Sam bit back crossly, pulling on a trainer. "I mean when did you think before running blind into a job on dad's orders?"

Dean's cheeks flushed, his pride wounded. Sam watched with cruel satisfaction. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of his older brother and knew how to push his buttons without causing a full scale war.

Dean looked away, swallowing down the sharp stab of hurt and anger that rose within him and pulled on his jeans and shirt with more force than was really necessary.

An oppressive silence filled the poky motel room as Dean threw his few possessions into his duffel bag and stomped on his boots, avoiding Sam's penetrating gaze.

Sam watched his brother, guilt beginning to crawl up his spine and slowly strangle him. His temper, still not fully under control, refused to let him back down and instead he turned away and started scooping up the remaining bits and pieces which were strewn across the tired furniture and worn carpet.

Dean threw open the motel door and stalked out to the car, shoving the bags carelessly into the back seat before returning for the laptop and their dad's journal.

"You can do the honours and wake up the grumpy night manager," Dean muttered coldly, refusing to look at his brother as he climbed into the car and chucked the key at him.

Sam opened his mouth but no sound would come out. Closing it smartly, he turned and headed for the office. 'Be damned if I'm gonna apologise,' he thought as he rapped on the desk, behind which the manager was asleep in his chair. "Dean wouldn't cave in so easily so be damned if I do," he muttered under his breath stubbornly.

Six hours later Dean and Sam were sat in silence, each refusing to speak to the other, having only the Metallica tape for company. Dean was still licking his wounded pride whilst Sam, who was sitting in the passenger seat, was looking determinedly out of the window.

After an hour of snatching sideways glances at Sam, Dean swerved off the road and onto the grassy verge. "Your turn," he muttered coolly, as he kicked open the driver's door.

Sam glanced at him, guilt eating away as he realised he had gone too far, pushing Dean to the limit. The Impala was Dean's pride and joy, he would never normally allow so much as a finger nail to mark his precious baby, never mind a muddy, dirty boot to be slammed into the door.

Getting out of the car and swallowing his pride with great difficulty, he followed Dean, who was stretching his legs.

"Look man … I'm sorry … I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did," Dean interrupted coldly.

"But-"

"Sam, we've had this conversation before. I know what you think of me. How you get frustrated cos I follow dad's orders, so don't give me that bullshit cos I know you aren't sorry."

They stood in an uneasy silence, looking over the flat expanse of land which stretched out for miles. Sam, swallowing hard against the glass-like pride which rose within him, opened his mouth to speak. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you the way I did. I didn't mean to mock your intelligence and call you a brainless baboon." This raised a smile from Dean. "I'm just tired of all this," he said, looking at the Impala which doubled for their home. "I just miss waking up in a house and a bed I know-"

"With a woman wrapped around you," Dean broke in, cracking a smile.

Sam tried to suppress the smile which twitched at the corners of his mouth and failed miserably. "Well yeah actually," he grinned, punching his brother in the shoulder.

"Lucky for you, you get this handsome good looking devil instead," said Dean, flashing him his most charming smile. Sam rolled his eyes and was caught off guard as Dean pounced on him and ruffled his hair playfully, Sam's head caught in a headlock, the tension between the two dying instantly.

"Get off you idiot!" Sam laughed, pushing Dean off and instinctively smoothing a hand over his hair. "We okay then dude?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered light-heartedly. "Now get in the damn car and drive. I need some sleep!"

Sam shook his head in amusement at Dean's adamant refusal to show any kind of feeling, preferring instead to project his bravado tough guy image.

"You coming or what?" called Dean from the car.