Plopped right into the thick of his worst dream, Sam struggled to gain a sense of his surroundings as his body turned in every which way to get a better understanding. One aspect he could be sure of was that this was the same arena he had been taken to before. Knowing better than to taste any of the sweets poking out of the dirt, he turned his attention to the girl standing beside him. She was young, either the same age he was, or a little younger. Taking a step closer to her, his hands searched his pockets. Nothing.

Sighing deeply, he motioned for the girl to be quiet. If there was one thing that made sense in his mind, it was to stay alive until the dream came to an end. In order to do that, he had to keep them both quiet and find a weapon to fight the demon that seemed bent on tormenting him. Keeping his eyes glued to the ground, his fingers trembled at his side as he searched. One lesson that stuck in his brain, was the idea that anything could be made out of a weapon if the right tools were there. With that in mind, Sam dropped to the ground and ran his fingers along the dirt. It was harder than it looked, but eventually his fingers found a sharp stick that he mended to be even sharper.

Relieved he had something to protect himself with, his next course of action was to find a safe place to hide until he woke. Scanning the sparse landscape, he gestured for the girl to follow him. She did so hesitantly, as though not sure it was too bright to follow a complete stranger. Watching his steps as he moved, Sam made a path for the girl to follow while he searched for any sign of a house or cabin. In this type of wild country, he knew a cabin would be the likelier option. Grateful for his knowledge gained from school, he kept his head down, but his eyes focused. Rounding a slow turn, the first thing that he saw was the cabin he had been hoping for.

Excitement clawed its way to his heart as he flew up the rickety steps. Stopping short of the door, Sam made sure he had his weapon and the girl with him before he ventured forth. Pushing it open a few inches, the musty smell of dust soon met his nostrils. Ignoring it, the kid did a mental sweep of the downstairs, before calling it good. Debating where to settle, he finally chose the wooden table in the kitchen. Scanning the meager contents of the place, it was clear there was no salt to lay across the windows or doors. Not that it was a shock when the demon was the one controlling the dream. Not willing to grow complacent, even though his stomach growled with hunger, he fought the feeling as best he could.

His nerves bunched in anticipation of what was to come. If the demon was there, as the girl said he was, that would mean he would have to fight him without the help of his family. Even in a dream, Sam did not feel the least bit inclined to engage with whatever the demon wanted. Sitting at the table, it occurred to him that the demon was harassing him for a purpose. It may not be for the sole purpose of killing him, but then what for? His head hurt thinking about it, so he tried not to. The girl had shaken off the nerves that had kept her from moving, and she hesitantly took a seat in front of him.

"What...what is this p-place?" Shuddering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Wonderland?" Sam shrugged. "Or a demon's idea of one."

The girl shook her head, steeling herself against the tears that were coming in hot. "I don't belong here. I'm in Girl Scout's!"

Sam looked down, studying the four-inch scar on his knuckle. "Math club."

In a perfect world, he would have been using his smarts to win the competition that he had coming up. Certainly not finding his way around a dream that was entirely too lifelike. The girl studied him as though inspecting a complicated picture. It made him the tiniest bit self-conscious.

"How do you know so much about this?"

Sam lowered his head. "Family business. What's your...your name?"

The girl stared at him, before choosing to look out the window. Her golden hair fanned her face like a mirage. "Serenity."

Sam tested the name out. It was nice; pretty. "I like that." Mentally making a note to ask his big brother how to talk to girls, he wracked his brain for ideas.

Getting up to pace the length of the kitchen they were in, he noticed Serenity twitching in the chair she was in as her almond-shaped eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. He tracked her path and made a mental note that she was looking at the doors and windows.

"They-he-always comes at night."

Sam's heart clenched painfully. "Y-Yellow-Eyes?"

"Him or one of his friends."

Deciding it was worth a shot, Sam stood up and deliberately stood in front of her to block her frenetic movement. "Did he say why he put us here?"

Serenity avoided Sam's pressing gaze. "It's not a playground." She picked at some lint on her pants. "It's a training ground."

"Training-"

Almost as though he was sucked back to the waking world, the dream ended. Lying flat on his back, his chest heaved up and down as he tried his best to calm down. Dimly aware he was sweating bullets, Sam rolled over and saw Dean curled up on his other side, unaware of the experience he just had. Biting his lip, Sam turned his gaze to the bed next to him. Caleb was finally resting. His posture was peaceful in sleep, and held none of the pain it did when he was awake.

Jim was on the couch across from him. In the still of the night, with the only sounds being the faint sound of passing semis and cars, Sam knew he had to tell someone about what he saw. It was too important. Sliding off the bed, his feet landed on the scratchy carpet. His toes snagging on the tough surface, he tiptoed his way over to the sofa that was doubling as a bed. The pastor was sound asleep, but only just. Sucking in a breath until his mouth was dry, Sam poked Jim and whispered his name.

It took a moment, but Jim's eyes finally snapped open. Taking that as a cue to sit down, Sam did just that as Jim gently pulled him down so they could converse in a more private way. Lying next to him, Sam pulled the thick covers over his back and listened for the sounds of his brother or Caleb waking up. In that moment, words almost failed Sam when he thought back to the bizarre nature of the dream. It was not the first time he had that dream, and likely not the last. What bothered him was the plans the demon supposedly had for him.

What brought him back to earth was the dull thump of Jim's heart, and the way his calloused hand came to rest on the curve of his back. This was a position Sam was familiar with since he was a child, and the one he was in now. When he was looking for something to ground him back to the earth, it was always his family. Suddenly aware of the moisture that coated his cheeks, he sucked in a deep breath as saltwater slid into his mouth.

"Sammy," Jim whispered, anchoring his head down to better look at the kid. "What's going on?"

Sam shook his head, more than a little worried about Jim's reaction. They always tended to be overprotective. "I...had a...dream." His hand came to rest on Jim's shirt, squeezing it tight.

"About what?"

"Y-Yellow-Eyes."

Silence. The only noise Sam picked up was the tenacious rustling of leaves as they left the trees. Silence was good; Jim was not jumping up from his place and demanding they find a new place to stay. Instead, his hand slowly rubbed Sam's back and his eyes closed for one brief second, before they opened.

"Did you see him?"

"No. I...I saw someone. A girl. I've seen her a lot."

Jim nodded once. "Did you notice anything about where you were? Was it the same place as last time?"

"I think so."

Sam knew they were trying to track the location of his dreams to see if they added up to a physical location. The only thing he could reliably convey was that it was somewhere in the country. That offered a difficult path to follow.

"We have to keep our heads down, and we'll talk to Missouri about this later today. I'm glad that you came to me, Sammy."

Sam nodded, his heart loosening the vice-like grip it had on him. Lifting his head when Caleb tossed and turned violently, he hoped he was not in the throes of another night terror. Most nights was the same nightmare for Caleb, of going to sleep and then having to contend with whatever his brain conjured up. Usually, Sam was unaware it was happening. However, stuck in the same room with him, it was impossible not to hear it. His happy, eternally optimistic guardian, had been reduced to a nervous and fearful shell of himself when the worst of his mind assaulted him.

"Is...is Caleb going to get better?"

He was not sure he wanted to know.

Jim fell into silence while he tossed that question around in his mind. "I've never...I've never known someone who has had PTSD. It's a bit like going through a minefield blind."

"Is that..what he feels like?"

Even though Sam could not understand what Caleb was going through, he could see the pain that his guardian was walking through, and Sam was quite certain he had never seen that before.

"I heard it described to me once. It's like drowning and there all these hands reaching out to grab you, but you can't reach them. You're stuck in the deep, being pulled back by the waves. But, there is the light that comes through and it sort of lifts that person up from the waves."

Sam examined the words of wisdom Jim was giving to him. In a strange way, it made sense. "How do we help him?"

"Well, we help by being patient. We offer Caleb all the love that he needs, and also know when to back off and give him that space."

Everything Jim was saying made sense, and Sam tried to accept those words as he snuck a glance at his guardian. Caleb had gotten over whatever nightmare he was going through, and had gone back to sleep. He hoped he would be asleep for the next few hours, and would be free of pain. Studying the clock, it was nearing three in the morning. They would have a few more hours to sleep. With that in mind, Sam slid off the couch and returned to his bed with Dean. Teasingly shoving his brother away from his spot, he curled up and tried to fall back asleep.

He had no idea what Missouri would be like, but he hoped she would be able to shine some light on what he was going through.

AN:

So many things happening. Poor Caleb ): Not only did the spirit take so many victims, but it also took a large piece of Caleb.