"Now, Dean!" A rancorous voice echoed in Dean's head, "Is that very nice." A twirling cloud of dust merged to form the Sandman in the landscape of Dean's mind. "Leaving Sammy like that. Not very brotherly."
Dean cursed himself for believing the villain would leave him alone long enough to protect Sam. "I'm just playing your game on my terms. I won't let you hurt Sammy and if you call him Sammy again, I'll make sure you die slowly," he said with unrealistic rebelliousness.
"Dean, you were the one attacking, Sammy," The Sandman's image made flesh in the middle of the room. He bent down to toy with the knife still in its sticking spot in the floor.
Dean remained cemented to his ground and convictions. The word Sammy created a snarled smirk. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Continuing with his grandstanding, the Sandman relished in punishing Dean. "I'm surprised that you have kept control for this long. You're a difficult nut to crack," The sarcasm dripped from each word. "Every time you break, every time you linger in fear, I grow stronger. You think that brave face fools me? I'm actually enjoying the front you are trying to maintain-makes my enjoyment so much sweeter." A sinister chuckle squashed out as he stretched himself back upright to meet Dean's gaze.
"I'm not you're puppet. You aren't going to fool me anymore." Dean screwed his courage to his soul.
The Sandman shook his head and he smacked a "tsk" from his lips. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on his face. Dean lunged at the image only to have it fade away.
"Dean, baby… come to me.." A sweet familiar voice called to him.
His eyes responded with a longing to the voice. He wanted to look away from the newest image- the image of his mother. "Mom?... No, she's not real! I won't let you fool me!" The Sandman's magic sent prickly shards of numbness over Dean. "NO"
"Dean, it's me. I came to help you- to protect you. Don't you recognize me?" Mary gently crept towards Dean. Her blond hair swept over one side of her face and her warm eyes called to Dean. "Baby, please. I love you…"
Dean's lip quivered as he shut his eyes to the mother before him. His face flashed a false façade to hide the false feeling in his soul. He molded in an uncaring stance while inside his heart was dying.
"I know you are hurting baby. I just want to take care of the pain." A gentle soft hand cupped his stubble rough chin.
"No." As Dean resisted as the pain in his muscles increased to unbearable degrees. His mind filled with the laughter of the Sandman. Dean forced himself to remain unflinching, holding on to the incident with Sam as an anchor. "No."
"Dean," the unison of his mother's voice and the Sandman uprooted his resolve with each passing moment. The fatigue making his mind and body weaker, he bobbled upon belief that his mother had returned to save him.
"Go away! You're not here." His face locked granite, but the touch of the delicate fingers upon his face cracked flinches of pain and sorrow. "I'm alone. You're not here…you're not….here." Dean desperately wanted to look at his mother's face."
"Dean, you are never alone… I am always with you. Please baby. I know the secret you hold. I know why you hate yourself and I want to make it go away." Another motherly hand tugged at his shoulder.
The duffel fell from his grasp as he fought to hold back the guilt and sorrow in his soul. The comfort of his mother felt warm and wonderful.
Mary pulled him close and embraced him. He wanted to get lost in this moment of comfort and safety- of his mother protecting him again. A memory of what he had allowed to die the night their lives were turned inside out, upside down, and mangled beyond any nightmare he could imagine. His arms locked around her and his faced washed in sorrow. A childlike crackle flavored his speech.
"Mom.. I'm sorry. I could have saved you…..I could have……."
"Shhhh…..shhhu….hush baby….shhh….It's okay…..I got you…just rest."
Dean leaned into her accepting her faux warmth. His hand grasped her golden hair and pulled her close enough become a second skin.
The Sandman's voice ringing out his name, pulling him, but he anchored to his mother, the only person who could make him feel safe again. "Dean….do you remember how much she loved you?"
"Shut Up!!!.. Mom… I…..I'm sorry…I love you!" His arms clenched upon her, willing her to make him whole again.
"Its okay baby..it will all be over soon. I'm here.."
The joyful chuckles pried at his mind. "Do you even care what you've done to her- to everyone. You have much to make amends for."
"Shut up. Dean's leaned against his mother's shoulder as if he could block out the voice inside him. His face found a slimy slickness upon his refuge. The sensation forced his eyes to open. A horrified gasp pushed out his mouth and his body instinctively repulsed away.
A charred bleeding and oozing image of his mother reached out to him. Her face was burnt with blackness and fleck of the red melted flesh and blood seeped out from every portion of her exposed skin. "Dean, baby come to me… I need you. I forgive you. Please come to me."
"You could have spared her Dean. All it took was one word. But you were too afraid, too selfish to fight. You failed your family. Her blood is on your hands.
Glancing down, traces of the bloody mess that was Mary had been left upon his clothes, his hands and face. Disgusted he wiped his hands upon his already stained shirt, but the stains remained. His stomach forced a dry heave in his throat in reaction to the spots upon his hands.
"Who would have thought there could be so much blood? All that heat crackling at her flesh."
"SHUT UP!" Guilt and anger toe-top filled Dean. He swallowed another dry heave harshly.
Mary stalked closer to her son. "Dean, please!" Bits of her flesh fell way and plopped upon the floor, revealing the open pus and bubbled red skin below.
Dean split his focus upon his frame already marked by his mother's blood and the burnt image of his mother. Trying desperately to hold back a flood of whirling emotions, his face contorted and his breathing came in burst. Steadily, he back away until his back rested uneasily upon the motel's door. With not more room to escape, Mary's arms locked upon her son. His body wanted to climb the door in nauseated repulsion of the image before him and of his own disgrace.
"You're an abomination, Dean. You can't even face the abhorrent results of your weakness like a man." The Sandman's lips spread into a devious satisfied smirk.