Beautiful Innocence
By: chocolate rules
OMG, she does live:D (AKA an update!)
Chapter 7: Random Interference
While driving back home, Sam kept talking a mile a minute about nothing. Dean wondered if the kid would ever get over this stage and become, I don't, silent. What ever happened to the 'not a kid, but not a teen' angst that he was supposed to be feeling at this age?
But, in truth, Dean wouldn't take the kid any other way. If Sammy ever turned, dare he say quiet?, then he knew that there was trouble.
They arrived home and Dean groggily got out of the car. He had expected his night to go so much more different, so much better than what it had. He had expected to have fun and get lucky. He had had neither. Well, he had started out having fun and that had lasted all of what, ten minutes? Who ends the night cleaning up after a party anyway? Ahhh.
Sam trudged into his room and dumped off his bag by the desk. He was having a pretty decent day, it wasn't everyday that he was allowed to go over to a friend's house. Or anywhere really.
The boys spent the next hour or so trying to find something good to watch on TV. As per par, nothing good was on. They spent more time arguing then anything else. Before they got into a full on fight, Dean sent Sam to get ready for bed. Sam groaned, but seeing as how Dean had just let him go to chill at Richey's he headed to his room with no further retort.
Dean went around the house, checked over all the locks and salt lines. After placing some salt on the lines that had been disturbed during the day, Dean headed to his own room to ready for bed.
Dean got out of his shirt, for the second time that night, and his jeans. He tugged on fresh boxers and headed to the bathroom.
Living with just your kid brother and father, dean had no problem walking in and out of rooms not knocking. Actually, he rarely, if ever knocked to enter a room. The way he saw it, if there was a reason for him to be in there then he didn't need to be knocking.
So, Dean ignored the partially shut bathroom door as he stepped in and went to brush his teeth.
Sam was checking himself over, determined to find something that would prove to the elder members of his family that he was in deed not a baby anymore. He'd been checking himself over for the last month or so, and had yet to find anything.
"Give it up, Sammy," Dean said shaking his head. Sam glared at him through the mirror. "You're not going to find any chest hair at twelve. It just doesn't happen." Dean grabbed his toothbrush and set Sammy's besides the kid. "Or a beard for that matter. You do realize that that's not the first place you're gonna get hair right?"
Sam turns to glare at him this time. Dean's grinning around the green brush sticking out of his mouth. He lets out a soft growl and then picks up the toothbrush for himself.
A few minutes later and they're saying goodnight and each head to their respective bedroom.
The night is still. The skies are clear and the stars are bright. It's a perfect night.
Or so it should seem.
Sam shifted again in his sleep. He hated having dreams that had people dying or hurt in them. They always felt so real and had him waking up in a cold sweat. He's dreaming about a man and the man's being beaten by these three guys until he's unconscious. Sam can hear himself calling out to them, telling them to stop. Of course, they never listen.
Sam shits again and now finds himself in an empty subway. He can read the digital clock stating that it's one twenty in the morning. There's another man standing there, seemingly waiting for his train. He's rather young, in his twenties at most, and rather slim looking. Sam oddly thinks that if he were in a fight, the poor guy would most likely lose. Suddenly, three guys come out of nowhere and choke hold the guy. Sam moans, and just as he's predicted, the guy can't put up much of a fight. They leave him there, a motionless heap on the ground. They take nothing from him and leave like nothing ever happened as the train pulls up to its landing.
Again, Sam shifts in his sleep. His pajama top is clinging to his chest from the perspiration. A lady was brutalized as she took out her shoppings from her cart to her trunk. She's left hanging from the back of her SUV. Three dark figures progress unnoticed back into the shadows.
Sam flips onto his belly. He stuffs his face into a pillow and sighs.
His dream shifts again and there's two teenage girls by a mini-mart parking lot. They're leaning on an old truck, just chatting away. There's a slight rustling that they don't seem to hear. His view gets blurred this time and he can only make out the ruffling of colors blending in with the darkness of night. Suddenly, everything's still. The three dark figures back away from the motionless bodies of the girls. Unlike the others he's just seen, he can tell that these haven't made it.
The assaultants have progressed. They've become murders.
He cannot make out their features in the first few dreams. He can't even recall that he's had these types of string dreams before. That he's seen these criminals. Not until tonight.
The three dark figures backed away from the girls' bodies. They seemed uncaring and unfazed by the attack. Sam watched as they neared him. The first, most likely the leader passed besides him to his right. Next one passed at his left. The third figure held back, he watched the area and Sam figured he was the scouter, assuring the others that they weren't followed or seen. He then saw the figure sigh wordlessly and head right towards him. Mere inches from his own face, Sam cringing away hoping for the dream to end, the figures eyes' came into light and then the entire form was noticeable.
Sam gasped as he was flipped around and watched as the last man caught up with the first two. No longer were they dark figures, he could see them now. And he knew who they were….he just couldn't believe it.
Sam awoke with a gasp.
He looked around and was so thankful to be back in his own room. Sure enough, he was sitting in his own sweat and his pajamas were sticking to him.
Sam rose from his bed, peeling off his damp top and tossing it to the floor, where the rest of his dirty clothes lied from early in the day. He walked over to his dresser and then grabbed the first shirt his hand came into contact with and pulled it on over his head. Doing the same for his PJ bottoms, Sam headed back over to his bed with ever intent to go back to sleep.
His bed was wet with his sweat as well and Sam couldn't sleep like that. He rose once more from the bed and thought about going to get new sheets for his bed. What he really wanted to do was rush into Dean's room and take comfort in the stronger arms, but he was twelve years old, not a baby.
And yet, as he slowly pulled the door open, he had ever intent to do just that.
As he closed the door behind him, out of habit, Sam was snapped into alertness from a noise in the kitchen.
Slowly and trembling with fear, Sam turned toward the kitchen. There was no light coming from beneath the swinging door.
Sam held his breath and fisted his hands. He was aware that not only did he have no weapon on him, but he had no weapons in his room.
Once more, a soft rustling came from the kitchen and Sam waited, hoping that his light sleeper of a brother would rush out of his room and save him. Or bring him a weapon. Ultimately, both things would make him feel safer.
But Dean didn't show.
However, along the same line of thinking that had previously brought him into the hall, Sam knew that unlike himself Dean's room held many weapons. Where as Sam's room was filled with books, dictionaries and encyclopedias, Dean's had weapons, car and gun magazines and a few playboys.
In no time at all, Sam was in his big brother's room and rushing to Dean's bedside.
"Dean," he whispered pulling off the sheets up to Dean's waist. Dean slept on his stomach and moaned his face into his pillow. "Dean! I heard something. Come on, man."
That did wake the elder brother up.
"What?" he asked as he twisted into sitting and looked over to Sam.
"There's something in the kitchen, I heard it."
Dean looked over to his closed door and back to evaluate his kid brother.
"You okay?" He asked as he stood up. He saw Sammy nod and made his way over to his dresser. From the top drawer, he pulled out a .45 Colt, checked that it was loaded and handed it over to Sam.
Grasping his hand around the familiar form, Sam watched as his brother grabbed a .22 Long Rifle from besides the dresser and led them towards the kitchen.
As they neared the kitchen door, Dean held his arm out, effectively stopping Sam in his tracks.
"Stay here, I'll handle this. Don't come in no matter what," he ordered. Sam nodded, eyes never leaving the swinging door.
Dean took a breath and stepped forward. He held up his .22 and aimed it ahead of him. Almost at the door, Dean stilled as a soft moaning emits from it.
Dean took a deep breath, willing himself not to panic. The moan had sounded way too human.
Behind him, Sam held his breath as he watched his brother enter the dark room.
Dean silently fumbled for the light switch to his left as he lined his aim to the figure outlined by the moonlight coming in from the window.
Switching the light on, Dean yelled, "Alright, freeze!"
Surprised out of his activities, the figure flips around surprised to have a gun pointed at his face.
"Watch it, kiddo." Dean hears a familiar growl say. Blinking out of his fright, he's surprised enough to question the sight.
"Dad?"
So, it appears that things are a little shaky in the Winchester household. What could this appearance mean? And do Sammy's nightmares play out anything?...
And, if anyone can recall back to chapter 3 or 4 where I mentioned about the supernatural taking affect after a certain chapter title, I think you'll be most pleased.
Next Chapter: Daddy Dearest
