Disclaimer: Not mine! Darn it.
A/N: Here's chapter three; turning for home! Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews.
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Sam shot bolt upright in bed. He rubbed an arm across his eyes to wipe away the sweat. Another damn nightmare. Definitely not a vision. Hell, he had been having these dreams for months now; if they were visions, the events would have happened a hundred times over.
And what the hell kind of dreams were these? Flashes of light; feelings of love and peace, then anger and a sense of great betrayal; flashing swords; the beat of winds; then rage and pain and darkness. The last part had gotten stronger over the last few weeks. So much anger. So much darkness. And recently new images had been added: glimpses of yet different conflict, and hate and searing pain and then a feeling of floating and someone—someone he thought he loved—calling to him.
For a while, Dean appeared to have been having odd dreams, too, and Sam had entertained the fanciful idea that the two of them had somehow been having the same ones. But then Dean's dreams seemed to have stopped abruptly right after that demon had been destroyed at that old house—at least Sam, who sometimes tried to stay awake just to avoid yet another stroll through the same unspooling images, thought that Dean was now sleeping peacefully through the night—just when Sam's nightmare had upped the image count.
Dean, in fact, had suddenly seemed to have found peace when awake as well. The haunted look, the burden of guilt he had carried since that day in the hospital, appeared gone. In its place, Dean had acquired something Sam would have believed impossible: an even greater urge to protect his little brother.
If Sam were being totally honest, Dean was beginning to annoy the hell out of him.
Every time he looked up, Dean was watching him, this almost hopeful expression on his face, which faded when Sam eyed him warily.
Sam turned his head now, pretty sure what he would find. Yep. Dean was now wide awake, propped up on one elbow and watching him intently. Dean was definitely getting on his last nerve.
When Sam scowled at Dean, his brother's expression changed subtly. He continued to study Sam, but the intentness faded, replaced by hint of sorrow and, behind that, determination.
That was when Sam had an epiphany. Dean had been having the same dreams initially and now Dean knew something about what they meant. Somehow, something had happened and his older brother had figured them out, or researched them, or asked the right source…there was a twinge of something Sam recognized as petty jealousy.
You always tell Dean it doesn't matter he never went to college, it doesn't make him any less intelligent. But push comes to shove, you don't really believe it yourself, college boy. It ticks you off when Dean figures out something you can't!
Pissed at his own less-than-generous thoughts, Sam carefully schooled his expression to avoid giving anything away to Dean. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Dean's feelings.
No, what he really wanted to do was hit his big brother, who was keeping yet another damn secret from him!
He wearily rubbed his eyes. What did Dean know? And how annoying was Sam going to have to get in order to push Dean into revealing it?
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Sam tapped his fingers relentlessly on the passenger door panel, despite increasingly irritated glances from his brother. Finally, with a growl, Dean reached across Sam with one arm to grab the offending digits, ignoring the resulting swerve of the Impala.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, watching the distance close between the front of the Impala and a tree on the side of the road.
A "damn!" was followed by a sharp snap of the steering wheel to the left that straightened out the car's path of travel. Sam let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.
"Jeez, Dean. Pay attention!"
"Then cut it out!"
"I will if you will." Sheesh, Sam, not sounding too much like a six-year old, are you?
Dean looked puzzled. "What the hell does that mean?"
"You keep looking at me, as if you expect me to cluck like a chicken or something, and then you look disappointed."
"Hell, yeah," Dean said with the hint of a smile, "I've been waiting for you to cluck like a chicken for years now. You'd be disappointed, too."
Okay, Free Ride to Stanford, you handed him that one. Idiot.
Changing his tack slightly, Sam said, "I've been having bad dreams."
"Stop the presses, 'cause that's never happened before," came the more-than-slightly sarcastic reply. The Dean sighed. "I know, Sammy, but you won't talk about them."
Dean glanced over briefly before turning back to watch the road. "Are they about Jess again?'
Sam shook his head. "I-I have no idea what they are about. They were the same ones until a few weeks ago, then there were new images added." His jaw tightened with determination. "You've had some bad dreams yourself, haven't you? And, yes, I will keep nagging until you tell me!"
"Yeah, because the last time you did that, it turned out so well," Dean said, referring to the reveal of what their dad had told Dean in the hospital.
Sam was not backing down. "Well, I sure hope, big brother, the answer to this question is not quite on that level."
Dean lowered his eyes briefly and shifted uncomfortably. "Almost, Sammy, almost."
Sam sat up, staring at his brother apprehensively. "What? Dean, what?"
"Dad...Dad came in the dream and told me I had to take you to," Dean cleared his throat, "Denmark."
Sam blinked. Okay, so not the same dream!
"Denmark?" Sam repeated. "Why?"
"So you can get an operation to make your outside match the freaking emo girl you are inside!"
If he had not been concerned about the car wrapping itself around a tree, Sam would have strangled his brother. He settled for glaring at Dean.
"Nice try, but I want a real answer!"
After a moment, Dean sighed. "Yeah, I had some dreams a while back. They were...oddball. Then they just stopped. I haven't had one in weeks. Okay? Happy now?"
"What were they about?" Sam asked. He did not look at Dean, suddenly finding a loose thread on his jacket extremely interesting.
"Not a damn clue. Just a whole bunch of weird stuff. And not one naked boob." Dean sounded almost indignant.
Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was always Dean. And once that would have made me grimace. Now, I'm just grateful.
"You would tell me anything important, wouldn't you?" Sam hated how desperate and lost he sounded.
Dean sighed again. "Sammy, if there was something I could tell you, I would."
It took Sam a few minutes to realize just how carefully that had been worded.
TBC
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A/N: I know this one was a little shorter, but it seemed the only place to break the chapter. The last chapter will be the longest of the bunch, so it will make up for this one a little!