The motel door swung open and Dean galumphed his carcass to the table. He plopped his rear into the creaky wooden chair. His body quivered lightly, his head ached as if a spike had split it in two, and the tingling in his lungs had started to spread thorough his head and body.

Entering quietly, Sam closed the door gregariously. Sitting across from Dean, Sam sat motionless staring and waiting for words to spring forth. He closed his eyes slowly and allowed them to hover in that state for several minutes. His mind was racing about what had happened, what was to happen, and how they could stop what was to happen. Grimacing, Sam final drew courage to speak to his brother.

Quietly, he allowed words to spring forth, "Dean, are you okay?

The silence was the only response. "Your shaking, Dean. I'm worr…."

Annoyed at himself more than Sam, Dean finally spoke too harshly, "Dude, I'm soaking wet and cold!" Pulling off his water logged jacket, Dean looked at it in disgust.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam decided to change his tactics. He spoke again, but chose to approach Dean with the facts at hand.

"So, I'm gonna search again to find if any obscure legends are out there on Sandmen." Sam allowed a moment for Dean to chime in, but it passed without Dean attempting a comment.

Sam cleared his throat and began again, "That turning intangible thing was not reference anywhere in the legend and if we are going to fight this we have to find a weakness to..."

Dean could have kicked himself for just yelling at Sam. It wasn't Sam's fault this happened. Calmly interrupting this time, Dean uttered "Sam, most people think the Sandman is a happy little man in pointed hat that brings you happiness and rainbows. Which, we know ain't true. Dad's research tells us their sick sociopaths with homicidal tendencies. They feed upon other people miseries and nightmares."

Optimistically, Sam tried to inspire his faith in his brother. "Yeah, but we can trap him. Once we figure out a place to lure him that he can't turn into a swirl of dust, we can kill him with fire. We haven't let anything stop us before"

Slightly more animated and closer to his usual self, Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we tried that and it didn't turn out so well. He sighed and knew that Sam needed to hear he wasn't giving up. His face was gentle as he spoke solacingly. "Sam, I get it. I know you're freaked. It's not like this thing hasn't killed two other people in this town."

Sam gulped a breath of air in an attempt to keep his voice even, but it was an exercise in futility. "Dean!" His voice cracked. "That thing drove those people insane. They went on a rampage of destruction before they committed suicide."

"We'll those people aren't me. I'm grabbing a shower". Dean eased himself up and rambled towards the shower.

"Yeah, we best get some shut eye because tomorrow we're picking up that suckers trail." Sam paused for Dean to acknowledge the gauntlet he had just thrown.

Silence lingered once more and Dean turned, stepped in the bathroom, and closed the door.

-x-xx-x-xx-x-xx-x-x-x

As the door shut, Sam realized his sopping wet clothes were sending a shiver down his own spine. He crossed to his duffel bag and quickly located some dry clothes. Pulling his flannel and t-shirt off, Sam's realized his upper arms ached from hanging from that neon sign. An involuntary grunt escaped his lips. He kneaded each shoulder blade in turn. He bent backwards and allowed his back to pop before he pulled on his sweatshirt. He quickly shed his shoes, his dripping socks, his water heavy jeans and skivvies. He flopped on his bed and quickly pulled on new skivvies and dry jeans. Glancing out the window, Sam thought his mood was mirrored by the crepuscular morning that had arrived. He wanted to forget the cold and miserable night, but he knew the ramifications of loosing this battle was far from over.

Easing himself back into the chair, Sam switched his computer screen on. He had already researched the sandman when this hunt had started. Most of the useful knowledge was mere speculation from his Dad's journal. Stories and half truths from other hunters and God knows where. No one had ever faced them to Sam's knowledge or made it back, if they did. Searching again was pointless, but it gave him something to fixate on instead of aggravating Dean. His finger lingered upon a page he had marked. He clicked up a page he had found at the beginning of this mess, the story of a local woman gone mad. Now, he wished he hadn't found the story of Karen Brown.

-x-xx-xx-x-x-xx-x-xx-xx-

Throwing his wet clothes harshly in the bathroom floor, Dean stared at his bleary eyes for moment. Turning the water to a temperature so hot it was almost unbearable. He crawled in and leaned against the far shower wall. The sensation of crawling under his skin had crept thorough his entire body. In the back of his mind, a voice had already arrived. He knew the Sandman was there waiting to drive him mad, to feed upon his fears, and take his soul. He and the Sandman were connected now and no one had ever survived. He forced his mind to focus on the something devoid of emotions- the weapons in his trunk. He started listing them aloud, "A bowie knife, rock salt…Yeah… we need to get more rock salt…the ax, a stun gun…." Dean stared at the tile patterns in the shower and blinked slowly. "A flare gun, holy water, a…" One more blink and the image before Dean changed.

"You think that will work, Dean?" the Sandman gloated.

Dean found himself standing in the Sandman's lair once more, at least a version contained in his mind.

"I'll give you that it has taken longer to break into your mind that most. It took three hours to get this far. I've never known anyone to last more than 15 minutes. I can see we are going to have some fun together. You have some real nice issues we can explore." The Sandman's disembodied voice echoed in the expanse

"Where are you, where are you Freddy Kruger? I know your here!" Dean displayed the Winchester Bravado effortlessly.

The Sandman appeared before him. "Nice, but you can't hide with one-liners in here. This is your own little world Dean. The place in your head where the lies you tell yourself converse with the truths below the surface. A broadcast of the real Dean Winchester."

"Welcome to Prime Time, Bitch!" Dean said smugly.

The Sandman laughed hysterically. "I have such sights to show you that will tear your soul apart".

Dean's skin tingled again, but when he looked holes had appeared in his arms. Crawling from under his skin, large cockroaches and insects were quickly covering him. It was mere seconds that his entire body was covered. Clicking and hissing, as more cracked from within and began to devour his skin. Gnawing and ripping him apart from the inside out.

Throbbing in intense pain, Dean toppled over and howled in intense agony. His entire body inflamed and wailed in wretchedness. As he screamed, the insects started to permeate his mouth. He continued to scream as they wiggling mass chocked any air from getting to him.