Author's note: This chapter disappeared website. Okay, that was weird. Does fanfiction have a haunting fo r Sam and Dean? No idea why it went the way of oblivion, but here it is again. Update coming soon.
--xx-x--xx--x-x--x--x-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x
Wood splinters shattered and rained down upon Dean and the porcelain tiles. Throwing his arm up to protect himself from the blast, Dean could feel the splinters bombard him. The bathroom door that Sam had broken through was in shambles and pieces. Fear clutched in his heart and almost crushed the organ to a stop. Gasping, the bullet drilled into his chest. A sharp burst of air sucked in his lungs from the strength of impact. Excruciating pain burrowed as the slug ate away at skin, muscle, and bone. The pain he felt knowing that Sam had pulled the trigger stung even worse.
"Dean!"
Sam's voice rang in his ears, the urgency of his tone arched Dean's spine. His body shook with tremors, as it entered into shock.
Grabbing his brother, Sam shook lightly. However, his voice rang stronger than falling Redwood Timbers. "Dean... Dean! Come back to me!" The raspy sound that filled Dean's lungs frightened Sam beyond abhorrent credence.
Dean's eyes bolted open. The unwelcome view of the gaping hole in his chest stole his breath. His hands attempted to press the wound together. It took Dean several seconds to recognize his brother had gripped his flaying arms. Dean scooted away in childlike terror. Racing away in panic, he was unsure where the line between reality and hallucination blurred. He scooted further back until his torso rested upon the corner of the bathtub and the ceramic wall. An infantine irrational terror gripped his entire being.
Sam instinctively reached for his brother, but the attempt only garnered recoil. His brother had never reacted in terror at the sight of him before. In that one moment, some part of Sam felt vanquished. He could not fathom what fear Dean held that related to him. He wondered what part of him caused such dread. Whatever wrong he had caused his brother, Sam vowed would fix it. He wouldn't rest until things were right between them.
When Sam reached out a second time, he found the same response. Sam wasn't sure if Dean was quite with him yet. His voice filled with a sorrowful ache of wanting to help his brother, wanting to solve the rift of fear between them, and wanting to bring his brother back. "Dean... Please……it's Sam... Come back... Please, Dean." Flopping upon the ceramic tile, Sam slid back upon the sink base. Sam was prepared to spend all night to get his brother back.
Wild darting eyes shifted focus frenziedly in an attempt to protect himself. Dean grasped at his chest as if he could will the cavernous wound to close, but it was gone. The worlds of Dean Winchester had become so blurred. He no longer knew if he could trust anything. He no longer knew if he could trust the only person he trusted in this world-Sam.
Gentle soothing words trickled from Sam's mouth, forcing an exuded calm and hoping that Dean would use them as an anchor. "Dean... I'm here... just... let me help you." Sam shifted several inches closer to Dean, but his moves were slow and methodical. He raised his hands with open palms towards Dean. A coaxing sweetness permeated in Sam's voice and mannerisms "Dean." Rising to his knees, Sam drew closer. He stared in incredulity at Dean's undulating and wasting form. The bleakness of Dean's face had slipped further into a cadaverous tone.
The sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. A whirl fearing, loving, and begging intertwined in his confused mind. "Sam, I'm sorry...please, don't .. please" Dean whispered.
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. Please, let me help you. Just breathe. Please." Sam begged.
"Sammy… I'm sorry… I should never…" Dean's broken voice rasped harder. "I'm.."
"Shhhh…its okay… Whatever it is, we'll fix it" Sam's frame sneaked closer. Sam was close enough to touch Dean, but his moves were gentle and slow. Finally, he reached out with one hand and gently nudged upon Dean's arm.
"Sammy?... What…. Please..."
"It's over.. Don't worry about it…….Can you stand?"
"Maybe."
Sam supported him brother's good arm over his back and eased him up, whether Dean needed help or not. He was surprised to find that his brother still had the strength to get back up. At least, the Sandman had stolen his brother's strength, yet. Guiding his brother to the motel bed, Sam still tried to reassure his brother. "It's over now……just take it easy…I got you." Dean's achromatic face was a void of fatigue, which sprang worry to life in Sam. "Just sit down and relax."
Relaxing was exactly what Dean wanted more than anything, but the Sandman had stolen more than sleep from him. He had absconded all Dean's fears and was twisting them in a sense of perverse pleasure. Dean scrambled up against the headboard, crawling into a fetal ball. He just wanted to forget everything that was happening. He sucked in air slowly and deeply trying work through a real or imagined pain.
Standing above his brother's frame, Sam watched over his brother. All Sam could focus on was comforting Dean for the moment. He hoped that his presence alone would somehow let him inside the mind of Dean Winchester.
Crumpling the pillow beneath his torso, Dean hugged it for comfort. The dryness of his mounts provoked a small fit of coughing. He knew he should say something to Sam, but he wasn't sure what to tell his awaiting brother. He wasn't sure there were words to explain what was happening, much less put his brother's mind at ease. Instead, Dean focused on breathing and letting the moment pass.
"You want something to drink?" Noticing the coughs had not subsided.
"Flask."
Sam was sure water would have been a better choice. Then again, he couldn't blame Dean for wanting to drink this away. Obediently, he found Dean's half-dried jacket and removed the flask. Hurriedly, he rushed back to his brother's side. Rooting himself on the bottom edge of Dean's bed, Sam handed over the container to his brother's awaiting hand.
Dean managed to scoot to a seated position and lean back. Swigging a huge gulp, he let the strange warm sensation pass over him. He took several long drawls upon the flask before he returned his attention to Sam. "I'm okay, Sammy. I'm sorry, I scared you."
"Scare me!?! I would say I was terrified!"
"I'm sorry... I.. Don't know..."
"It's okay. I know it's hard but, I want to..." Sam knew that if he pressed too hard Dean would shut up again. Cleverly, he devised a possibility to keep his brother talking. "We know from Dr. Benton's file… in the things she documented… what happened in Karen Brown's case. If we can compare the similarities and differences, it could lead us to a resolution or least a start." Sam awaited an argument from Dean, but none came. Glancing at his weary brother, Sam pled his case again. "Do you think you can do that? Or are you too tired?"
Dean nodded his head and Sam didn't wait for his brother to change his mind. Sprinting for the medical file, Sam returned just as swiftly to the end of the bed. "Okay... we know Karen Brown was attacked by the Sandman and symptoms occurred within a few minutes. When did you have your first vision?"
"Shower."
"That was a least several hours after you were infected. So your timelines don't match."
"He said I was stronger."
"He didn't realize how stubborn, you were," Sam didn't feel like joking, but he wanted to make this conversation as normal as possible for Dean. "According to the file, Karen became paranoid that all of her friends were out to get her. But according to Dr. Benton, she already had issues. Her coworkers described her as shallow and self-centered. Her only friend noted she already thought people were out to get her. She had hallucinations that her friend was trying to single white female her. So this Sandman only increased that fear. Is the Sandman playing upon your fears?"
"I don't know… they're all different."
"What do you mean?"
Taking several more swigs from his flask before he answered Sam, Dean prepared himself for the next onslaught of questions. "Honest Sam, I really don't know. It's like everything is jumbled and random."
"Are there any patterns to the attacks? Anything trigger them when you see a hallucination? Do you know sometimes that it's coming?"
"Sometimes…Yes… then…No. One second is reality and the next I am just seeing …something else….. I can't tell which is real and which is fake! No matter how I try to fight. Even when I think it is not real, I can't fight it… It forces me to react. I can't stop Sam... Why... why can't stop it?!"
Sam gulped when his brother's voice sounded like a plea. It was a strange unfamiliar sound. "We'll find a way. I promise."
Shaking his head, Dean felt the need to clear it with another shot of whiskey. The warmth of the whiskey dulled the racing and pounding in his mind and his breath return to some normalcy. "Sam, I want you to be careful around me….I can't tell…. I can't tell if it's you or something else. Promise me!"
"Back there he was using me to get to you?...I'm right?"
The sadness in Sam's eyes was as torturous as any Sandman invented vision. Dean realized the recent episode had affected Sam deeply. He had inadvertently hurt Sam in one of the worst possible way. While he still had some presence of mind, he could protect Sam from the mess in his mind. "He used my fear of losing you, Sammy. I didn't even know it was you in there... trying to get me back. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I want to know, whatever it is, we can fix it."
"I know you do, Sam." A wide yawn involuntarily sprang from Dean. He knew Sam was trying to help him, but weariness screamed at his body. He longed for quiet refuge.
"But, you were afraid?"
Dean managed a childlike head jiggle. "I…..I wasn't……I'm so tired, Sammy.
"I know you are." Sam glanced at his brother with the same innocence that he held in his youth.
Dean hated that look. It was the one that would make him crumble during their formative years. The look always seemed to get Sammy his way. "Sam, I'm okay..." slurring slightly, Dean tried to grasp comforting words in a slow moving mind.
"You're far from okay. You're afraid, Dean. I can see it."
Breathing a huge sigh, Dean gave in. "Yeah."
"Maybe if you face your fears, then he won't have anything to feed upon."
Dean didn't relish the idea of exploring his many demons, especially when some would cause Sammy pain. And he didn't relish the idea of seeing Dr. Benton again to work out whatever issues she perceived he had. "Maybe, Sammy. But it's like I'm his personal cat toy and he's just waiting to play. He's toying with me and I can't stop him." The idea of Dr. Benton and the Sandman in the same moment caused Dean to take a hefty gulp from his flask.
"Okay, so the only similarity between you and Karen is the Sandman. She lost it much quicker; you've fought for 34 hours now. We know she…. "
"She only last two days….We know she went freaking bonkers and kill…"
"Dean…don't?"
"Come on Sam, you know it. I'm dangerous" His voiced slipped out slowly and sloppily.
"You're not dangerous. Anyway, I held you down once and I can do it again. I owe you a few ass kickings from when we were kids. Neither one of us is going to get hurt." That was the best Dean Winchester gauntlet Sam could throw. He could always count on Dean's skill in fighting and his ego to accept the challenge. Silence lingered for a few moments and concern caused Sam to glance at his brother.
Dean's head bobbled and the grip on the flask weakened to the point of falling out of his hand. Sam snatched the silver item from his brother's grip. "I think you don't need any more of this either."
The lightweight emptiness of the flask surprised Sam. He realized Dean had drained the entire flask in a short time. Dean's eyes closed and his breathing had turned to a steady rhythm.
Sam continued his rundown of evidence. "The first victim died quicker. He walked in front of a bus within three hours." Sam flipped the cut out news article in his hands. The only evidence we have that Steve Tyler is related to Karen Brown is from the witnesses.
Jiggling his head in agreement, Dean slurred out. "Yeah…but it's proof enough for us." His head bobbled and his eyelids blinked heavily.
"The witnesses to the bus dive heard Tyler screaming Sandman." Sam waited for Dean to give him more, but Dean's eyes were wide with a drunken stupor.
Sam didn't believe it. Dean looked like he was ready to pass out. Fearful of touching him, Sam didn't want to surprise Dean again. "Okay, I think you need to lie down. Looks like you were wrong about the sleep thing." Dean's eyelids blinked and a sleep collapsed breath pushed out. Closing the file and dropping it to the floor, Sam stood. Finally, Sam gripped his brother's legs and pulled him slowly down to the full length of the bed. Dean's head slid down and as soon as it hit the mattress it lurched as if rejoicing for slumber. Sam didn't want to stir Dean if he had indeed slipped into sleep. "Dean?" Sam's voice was a hushed whisper. When Dean failed to respond, Sam inched closer. Quickly, he assessed Dean's pulse and found a steady rhythm. Placing his hand underneath his brother head, Sam guided his brother to the comfort of the pillow.
Whether fatigue or alcohol had caused Dean to pass out, Sam didn't want to know. "It's okay….just rest"
Dean's slip into drunken unconsciousness brought him a small reprieve to a place where he was safe from the Sandman and the rest of the world. Dean's body collapsed wholeheartedly for as long as it lasted.
Staring at his brother for several minutes, Sam refused to move. He didn't know if he was grateful or fearful that his brother was asleep. Dean was fast approaching Karen Brown's deadline. She lasted less than two days with professional help. She was committed for her protection and the Sandman still got to her. Retrieving, the file from the floor, Sam plopped behind his computer trying to push the idea of loosing Dean out of his mind. Thinking only that the Sandman didn't know what he took on when he attacked Dean. Dean was the strongest one in the family and he wasn't going to face the Sandman alone, not as long as Sam still had breath. He had work to do and a brother to save. It was going to be a long night of searching for Sam Winchester, but that was a least of the sacrifices he was willing to make for his brother. The Sandman had chosen the wrong family to mess around with. Now, Sam only wished he could convince Dean.
As he cracked the file open, a rupture of thunder arched outside. Glancing back to the bed, Sam spied Dean stir and shift to a new position. The boom hadn't disturbed his brother much. With relief, Sam glanced out the window and lost himself in the tempestuous view. Another stormy bleak night for the Winchester was preparing itself outside. The rhythmic splatter of ran splashed against the front window frame. Sam looked out upon the violent pour wishing he could wash away this mess as easily.
Cracking his back, Sam returned his attention to the file. Lightning burnished the pages brightly every few seconds. Reading for the minutia, Sam got lost in the file. More lightning flashes spilled upon him. Sam didn't mind the brightness and darkness mixing. It reminded him that nature still has some rule over this world and over the supernatural world. Another set of flashes invaded. Sam grew use to the metre of the hostile rain and the breakneck shutters of flashes. A thunder boom shook the sky with forte before another set lightened the room. A soft moan spilled out between the rumbles of thunder causing Sam to glance at Dean, still slumbering. More flashes of brilliance revealed the vacuous appearance of Dean's face. Taken aback that so much had already been take from his brother, Sam's face morphed into pleading sorrow. The next burst of light averted Sam's attention to something else-the projection of a shadow above Dean's bed. It was a silhouette that Sam knew too well-the overcast version of the Sandman.