Note: Sorry, it has been so long since I updated. I've had some family stuff to deal with, but at least it is perfect for relaying brotherly angst. As always, thats for reading! I appreciate it more than I could ever express in words. I hope to be able to update often now and also read the creativeness of our Supernatural fans on fanfiction. Hope you enjoy- cause the ride just gets worse and worse.
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Dean closed his eyes, trying to force the image of his mother away from him. No matter how he hard he tried, the image of his mother's putrescent scorched form lingered. Pressing his body so tightly upon the door as if he could merge into the wood grain, Dean opened his eyes to see his reflection in his mothers pleading hollow eyes.
Turning his head away, he swallowed hard upon the gag reflex. The smell of his mother's rancid burnt flesh and his guilt filling him with self-loathing. The Sandman's dust toxin pulsated in his overloading system. The combination threatened to swallow any idea of self worthy Dean had. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to block out this moment forever.
Just when he thought he was about to break, the door behind him pushed inwardly. Jarring forward, Dean stumbled a few steps before he toppled to the floor, instantaneously, the figure in the open door dropped the packages that he was carrying and hastened to his brother's side.
Sam's stifled a gasp of his reaction to his brother's jittering form held in aghast. He helped roll Dean flat on his back.
His brother's face appeared pallid, haunted, and morose.
Dean chocked down the need to hurl.
"Dean…….Dean, you okay? Please talk to me. I want to know… please."
Forcing himself to sit, Dean pushed his brother off of him. "I'm okay Sam. I was just cleaning up the room, when you startled me with the door. You should check before you wail a door open." Though his body ached and wanted to remain stationary, Dean forced his body to obey his command. Standing sluggishly, he waivered slightly and continued his pretense of cleaning up the room.
Sam didn't buy his brother's actions or his excuse. Dean was hiding things again, but Sam wasn't sure what. He desperately wanted to get inside Dean's head and knock some sense in him. But, his brother's appearance had degraded further in the short time that he had been shopping for food. That was the greater concern for Sam. Whatever the Sandman did to Dean, it was powerful. Perhaps more powerful than anything than they had ever faced. He didn't relish the idea of watching his brother going insane. That fear was heightened by the fact that Dean didn't want to seem to share this burden with him. But that was Dean for you, he always seem to carry more than his fair share of any burden, especially when it came to Sam or his family. The urge to smack some sense into Dean found itself recurring. "You know not everything needs to fall upon your shoulders, Dean. This is one time you need to let me in."
Dean hurriedly rushed to the note that he had scrawled for Sam. It would do no good now if Sam found out the plans he made before the Sandman's newest attack. Mindful that he might have to leave Sam behind as his mind quickly degraded into madness. He wasn't going to allow Sam to be a victim of his deranged mind. He quickly crumbled the paper into his jean pocket before Sam could notice.
"Dean….the silent treatment is old!"
Turning to face Sam, he could see that there were many unanswered questions Sam longed to ask him. But how could he tell Sammy all the things that crossed his nightmares. So he decided for the moment, subterfuge was the best possible defense. "Hey, Sam what did you get? I hope you brought us some good grub, because I'm starved."
"Dean," Sam's voice was soft and pleading. "I know you weren't cleaning. I can see the hell you're going through. I'm here. I know you think you're trying to spare me some pain or trying to reserve some of the cool you try to exude, but this is hardly the time."
"I know that, Sammy." What Sam had said was partly true, but the bigger portion was his own disgrace. Dean didn't want to cause his brother anymore pain. Sam had enough of that over the past years. "Sam, we could spend all day talking about what I've seen or what's happening to me. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. It's like I have no control over me and I'm trapped in some nightmare inside my mind. Acting out the things I see, but you don't. What does it matter, if I see a werewolf or anyone…. I don't want the next hallucination to hurt you. It's like I have no control over this…. and I….I just need us to focus on what we can do to fix this, okay."
Sam sprang to his brother's side once more and rested a reassuring hand upon Dean's shoulder. Sam waiting for Dean to pull away, but he stood rooted. "Dean, I'll find a way to shut the Sandman out. I know you think you can handle anything, but you don't have to. You're my brother! We have to stick together."
Dean couldn't help but chuckle. "I know, Sammy. And I think it's time we get started."
It was a half lie. If the need to help him by hunting kept Sam busy, that was enough for Dean. He tapped Sam's hand before he crossed away from him. His answer seemed to satisfy Sam for the moment as Sammy turned to make his way to the bags he dropped earlier.
Kicking the door closed, Sam balanced the two bags in his arms. He set the bags down, but his focused was still on Dean. Watching his brother leaf through a pile of clothes on the floor, Sam noted the fatigue and stress upon his brother was alarming and worrisome. "Dean, I got those powdered doughnuts you like." Sam sat the bags next to his computer.
"I thought you said you weren't getting junk food."
"Yeah, but I thought I would cut you some slack for once. Don't let it go to your ego." Sam waited for his teasing to register, but his brother merely turned to face him. Sucking in a small gasp of air, Sam's face flashed horror at his brother's blood shot eyes.
"Sounds great, Sam."
Sam dug the sugary confections out of the bag and tossed them to his brother. The item grazed Dean's fingers and fell to the floor. It was then that Sam knew Dean was far worse than he had feared. His brother never missed.
Dean didn't acknowledge his inability to hold onto the item. He was unaware that Sam had been testing him. Dean scooted himself up on the edge of his bed and carefully opened the package.
Sam plopped behind his computer and his fingers reached for the stolen file from Dr. Benton's office. He was hoping to find something, praying for one small item that would lead to the end of his brother's pain. "What don't you eat, then try to take a long nap. I'm going to review this information and see if I can find us something new to work with."
Dean didn't argue. Slowly he eased himself upon the bed with his sacred snack. Propping his head upon the headboard, Dean watched Sam filter and spread out the multitude of papers in the medical file. Even thought his stomach pitched at Mach 2, he scarfed down 2 of the bite-size donuts in an attempt to settle the queasiness of his stomach. Plus, if Sam found out he was not eating, he knew it would worry him. Dropping the remainder of the package upon the floor, Dean scooted himself further down into the bed. If he could just close his eyes, perhaps he could at least ease his screaming eyes and body. Every fiber of his being screamed out to him for sleep. "Sounds great, Sam. I'm just gonna try to get some sleep before we head out."
With that, Dean closed his eyes but remained unsleeping. For several minutes, he sank into the bed try to entice sleep to come to him. It was use to long hours, but with the drain upon his psyche, it seemed like he hadn't slept for weeks. The shuffle of papers was the only noise that filled the silence of the room except for the occasional sigh of frustration from Sam.
"Dean." A voice called to him. Groaning, he knew the source.
He cracked his eyelids to see if Sam was still staring at him, but found that Sam was pouring over the papers the same papers that they had countless times. He was then that Dean noticed the shadowy form behind Sam- the form of his perpetual tormentor, the Sandman. He bolted upright, calling out of his brother. "Sammy!"
Sam was immediately alert and prepared himself for his charging brother. Dean was already halfway to Sam's position when Sam grappled him and held him down upon the floor. "Dean no one is here! There is nothing to fear" Sam's voice is calm, but the force with which Dean fought him was alarming. Sam placed a full weight of his body upon his brother hoping it hold out until this vision was over or at least until he could reach Dean.
The panic in orbs of Dean's swollen red eye sockets darted in panic. "Sammy, don't let him get you… please."
Sam yelled loudly, "Dean!!!" Shaking his brother's frame, Sam had forgotten his brother's injured arm. The pain snapped Dean back to him.
The vision had disappeared and Dean grew quiet, but the voice still rang upon his ears. "I can take you anytime I want Dean, but what's the fun in that. I can get you anytime and don't you forget it." Dean sucked in a hard breath trying to calm himself before he spoke to Sam. He took several deep breaths before he began to speak." Sam. It's gone. I'm okay now."
"You're far from okay. We need to find out what triggers these visions." Sam released his hold and helped ease his brother to his feet. He waited for Dean to argue about Dr. Benton and refused to sheer idea that Dean didn't Dean faced Sam and merely nodded in agreement.
"Whatever you want Sam, I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault Dean! You've got nothing to be sorry for."
"I wish that was true, Sammy. I really do.. with all the terrors I've seen on the road. I've seen too many things. Now, they are all coming back to haunt me. What if you caught in the crossfire?!?" Dean lied. Sure vermin, demons, and creatures had given him some thrills, disgust, and fear over the years, but the greatest threat to Dean was closer to home. He didn't know where to begin. "Sam, you should he off living the good life. Instead of…"
"I'm where I belong, Dean. So you aren't forcing me to do anything that I want to do. SO, cut the guilt crap because we have faced things more tough than this."
Dean knew Sammy was wrong, but now wasn't the time to argue. "Thanks, Sammy. I'm just so tired…..I know you are right…. I think I need to get clear my head. I'll be soaking in the tub."
Knowing Dean wasn't the soak in the tub type, Sam allowed Dean the momentary escape to collect himself. It was odd for Dean to have to lean or anyone; much less accept the fact that he needed help. "Okay, but you still have a promise to keep. You promised to share and tomorrow morning, we are going to Dr. Benton's Office.
Dean spoke no more and shuffled off to the bathroom door. Closing it quietly behind him, Dean sank his fatigue plagued frame to the floor. Resting his head upon the door, he waited for the Sandman to take him again. This way Sam wouldn't have to see it this time. At least, he could keep that from happening again.
A voice emerged in his head. "Dean, do you think hiding yourself away will save you or Sam!"
Dean didn't speak, but tried to fight with whatever resolve he had left.
"By the end of this, you will die or Sammy will have to kill you. Either way your soul is mine. "
A renewed spark of snark hit Dean. "Get in line, there's a waiting list for my soul."
Again the laughter resounded from the Sandman. "Really!! But I have such wondrous and frightening sights to show you. The demons you hide are ready to eat you alive."
"Shut up!" Dean screamed. "SHUT UP!!!!" His eyes closed to the Sandman's image.
A pounding slammed upon the locked door. "Dean, Let me in! Are you okay!"
Dean opened his eyes to find the image gone yet again. Regrettable, he had let the Sandman goat him until he lost control again.
"DEAN!"
Delaying the inevitable confrontation of Sam's questions was futile. Dean was having a hard enough time fighting the Sandman. He no longer had enough energy to deflect Sam as well. He scooted himself out of the way and reposed himself on the far wall, hunching back against the coolness of the tile.
The door opened widely, as Sam's frame filled the open frame. Dean waited to look at him for a second, not wanting to see the concern on his brothers face. However, the sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. His brother stood over him pointing a gun. Not that he blamed Sam. Dean knew he had become dangerous. He was proud Sam wasn't taking chances.
"Dean. It's all over. I told you I would find a way." The gun arched into an aim.
A whirl fearing, loving, and begging intertwined in his confused mind. "Sammy? What are you doing? I'm sorry...please, don't… " Dean recoiled in terror. He pushed his fearful trunk against the hard tile.
Sammy inched closer to Dean's fearful eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam struggled to say through lips pouted by sorrow. "I can't let you go on like this." Sam begged. The gun rang loudly in the small motel.