Ok here's another chapter. Hope you like. Its a bit of a linking chapter so please bear with me. Please R&R.

Chapter 11: - The Phone call.

As Sam pushed back the door, his gun raised, his heart pulsated with adrenaline. Creeping towards the shower curtain, his arm outstretched, he paused, his hand closing round the fabric. Holding his breath, he ripped it back, his gun poised and ready to shoot.

Letting out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, he sighed with relief as all was clear. He dropped his gun to his side, wiping his brow with his free hand. Sitting down on the side of the bath, he leant forwards resting his head in his hands, the gun pressing against his temple. Shaking his head he couldn't quite comprehend the fact that Dean was having worse nightmares that he was.

Picking up a jug which rested by the tap, he had an idea. Filling it with cold water, he thought, 'If talking wasn't gonna help Dean, maybe a wake up call would.'

As he walked back into the bedroom, Dean still struggling against his restraints, he felt torn. "You're really gonna hate me for doing this," he sighed, looking down at his squirming brother, "But I gotta do it."

He took a deep breath as he threw the water over him, watching as Dean gasped and spluttered.

He sat down on the bed, brushing the wet hair out of his brother's eyes. "It's over," he said, as Dean fell back into a dreamless sleep.

Dean opened his eyes forgetting he couldn't see. Groaning as his head pounded furiously against the walls of his skull, he tried to roll over, but stopped feeling metal cutting into his wrists and rope rubbing roughly against his ankles.

Sam, who had been up most of the night keeping an eye on him, looked over from his place behind the laptop. "Hey you're awake."

"No shit," Dean croaked. "Mind me asking why I'm lying in a pool of water? I know I didn't wet the bed."

Sam grinned despite himself. "Don't you remember?"

"Jog my memory," Dean grimaced, as he tried to move out of the puddle. "Oh and while you're at it would you mind getting these things off me!"

"Yeah sorry man," Sam laughed, rising from the table and walking towards him, Dean following his movements with his ears. "The demon made a surprise appearance again."

Dean tried to remember what had happened the night before through his banging headache. Wincing, he groaned remembering the vivid nightmare he had been caught up in.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly, as his brother's face became pale.

"My head's killing me," Dean muttered, kneading his temples with his fists. "Keep your voice down."

Sam nodded. "I'm not surprised you've got a headache, considering that thing was inside there with you last night."

"Excuse me!" Dean exclaimed, looking up at his brother who he could feel standing before him, instantly regretting it as a wave of nausea passed over him.

"Well it seemed to have ultimate control over you. You were screaming."

"Screaming? I've never screamed in my life!" Dean said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Exactly," Sam nodded in agreement. "The thing had to be controlling you somehow. I couldn't wake you up. And seeing as demons possess …"

"Man this can't be happening," Dean groaned, his head throbbing violently as this new information began to sink in. "It's one thing when an evil son of a bitch walks around with your face killing people, but it's another thing having one inside your skin. Can this day get any worse!"

Sam smiled weakly. He handed Dean a coffee he'd bought from the machine in the motel reception half an hour earlier, having finally dared to leave his brother's side in order to get some fresh air. "Drink this; I'll make us some breakfast."

He walked over to the kitchenette, grabbing a box of cereals off the counter.

Dean slowly got up off the bed, feeling his way towards the table. Sliding into a seat he asked, "What are we having?"

"Lucky Charms," Sam smiled, taking the seat opposite his brother. He poured out a bowlful and sloshed on the milk before pushing it towards Dean. Hesitating uncomfortably as Dean couldn't see the spoon which lay on the table; he reached for it, pushing it into his brother's outstretched hand.

Dean smiled thankfully as his stomach groaned with hunger, trying to ignore the awkward silence which had descended between them.

"Dean," said Sam, nervous as to his brother's reaction. "I have to go and see that psychologist. I have to draw this demon away from you before it kills you."

Dean choked on his cereals, spraying the table with speckles of milk.

"I can't let this continue," Sam reasoned, trying to ignore his brother's reaction. "Look at you, you're a mess." He stopped, cringing inwardly at his last statement, as his brother flushed red.

Coughing violently as he struggled to breathe, Dean gasped, "Hell no!" Recovering slightly, he continued, "One of us needs to be in a condition to kill this son of a bitch. I can't, I won't let it destroy you too."

"Look, you've always been there saving my ass. It's about time I returned the favour."

"Sammy listen to me you can't do this. Hell save my ass sometime, but don't get yourself killed in the process. Don't go up against this thing, it screws with your mind till you can't separate dreams from reality. You saw me last night. Use your brain." Dean reached forwards for his brother's arms, trying to shake some sense into him.

"Look, I'm not gonna stand by and let this demon tear you apart," Sam almost shouted, trying to hold back all emotion from his voice. He couldn't let anything else happen to him. Losing Dean after losing everyone else he had ever cared about would destroy him. He couldn't, no, he wouldn't let it happen. Dean was all he had left except his father. If he lost him he didn't know what he would do. He'd almost lost him once already, he wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Sam no, I don't care what happens to me as long as you're there to kill this nasty son of a bitch."

"I'm going after this demon Dean whether you like it or not!" he said stubbornly.

"Sam," Dean tried to reason, as his brother jumped up to his feet, knocking into the table, "Please!"

"I don't want to hear it. I'll speak to you later. Don't leave this room," Sam ordered, yanking on his jacket and opening the door. Looking back at his brother, who had struggled to his feet trying to stop him, he felt a pang of guilt. Shrugging it off defiantly, he closed the door on him and made to run across the parking lot as a light drizzly rain began to fall.

Hearing the door slam shut, Dean cursed under his breath, slamming his fists down hard on the table in frustration. He needed help; he couldn't let Sam go after this thing alone.

Fumbling around for his phone, his breakfast lying abandoned, he flicked it open and began to punch in his father's number as best he could. Stopping half way through, he thought of their parting words in Chicago. Cancelling the call, he rubbed his hand against his aching temple. Knowing he couldn't call him because of the danger it posed to them all, he let out a sigh, racking his brain for someone else to call, trying to remember numbers.

Thinking hard, he dialled several numbers, one after another, trying to find someone who could help them. Sighing dejectedly after twenty minutes of negative responses, he flicked the phone shut in annoyance. Why was it when you didn't need help, there was always someone there anyway and when you actually needed help everyone seemed to disappear? One of his contacts was out of action, laying in a hospital bed somewhere down in Kansas, hurt. Another was in the middle of a hunt so couldn't get to them in time and the third, like his father, wasn't answering his calls.

Trying to think of someone, anyone who could possibly help, he dialled Alex's number. He didn't know what she could do seeing as they'd only met because of one of Sam's visions, but she had developed a talent for reading people's innermost thoughts and he decided she was better than nothing.

Before he thought better of it, he dialled the number, waiting with bated breath for her to answer.

Alex lay fast asleep snuggled up under the bed sheets of the motel bedroom she'd been staying in since she'd met up with John, when her mobile phone rang, vibrating loudly on the dresser. Leaning over sleepily, she picked it up and flicked it open.

"Hello," she answered sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she pushed herself up onto the pillows.

Dean, on the other end of the line, breathed a slow sigh of relief, though it couldn't quite quash the feeling that he wished he hadn't called her. Dean paused, not knowing what to say, which was a new experience for him.

"Ehh … hi. It's Dean … Winchester," he managed finally.

"Oh," Alex smiled, relaxing immediately. "I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again."

There was an awkward silence, as the line cracked.

"Hello! You still there?" Alex asked nervously, fidgeting on the bed.

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "Umm where are you?"

"Somewhere in Missouri. Same place you father left me," she muttered distractedly, pushing the bedclothes off her as she struggled to sit up.

"You've seem my father?" Dean exclaimed, finding his voice.

Alex cursed under her breath, wishing she hadn't opened her big mouth. "Umm yeah, for like five minutes," she said uneasily.

"When?"

"About a week ago. I'd just arrived when he said he had to leave. Said he thought-"

"Thought what?"

"Thought you and Sam might have walked into a trap."

Dean was silent.

"Dean?" Alex asked tentatively, hearing his breathing. "Dean, are you there?"

Dean sat at the table, pondering his father's absence with Sam and himself, but his willingness to make time for Alex.

"You called me for something," Alex said, trying to change the conversation. "Why do you want to know where I am?"

"It doesn't matter," Dean said evasively.

Alex waited silently, knowing Dean hadn't finished.

"Well it does but …"

"What?" she pressed gently, trying to stifle a yawn as she glanced down at the alarm clock.

Swallowing his pride, he said, "I need your help."

"My help!" Alex blurted out incredulously, struggling to believe her ears.

"Look," he said, his cheeks flushing. "Sam is trying to hunt a demon on his own." He swallowed hard against the glass-like pride that welled up inside him. "I can't help him. I need someone to watch his back, to protect him. "You … that day on the beach back in North Carolina … you saved our butts and when I was crushed under those slabs … Look, there's no one else I trust. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

Alex, who'd been listening in disbelief, muttered "Demons?"

"Don't get all sceptical on my ass now," Dean muttered, a note of pleading in his voice, which Alex couldn't miss.

"Where are you?" she said, as she stumbled around the bedroom looking for her jeans.

"Iowa. Stepfordsville," Dean added with a hollow laugh.

Alex grinned. "That bad ehh?"

"Yeah."

"Where exactly," she continued, pulling on a T-shirt and fastening the belt of her jeans, stubbing her toe in the process. "Ouch," she hissed, dancing on the spot.

"What are you doing?" Dean laughed, listening as Alex's voice grew louder and fainter, hearing clanging and crashing on the other end, Alex cursing under her breath.

"Getting dressed," she grinned, crawling under the bed to retrieve a shoe.

"Oh sorry, did I wake you up?" Dean muttered with a mischievous smile.

"Yes you did. So where are you?"

"Camden. How fast can you get here?"

Alex opened out a map onto her bed, studying it quickly. "If I set off now I guess I could be there by early evening. That is if I don't get lost."

Dean laughed. "I'll send psychic boy after you if you do."

Grinning, she said, "Tonight then," before putting the phone down.