A/N- Sorry for the wait guys; my life is really hectic right now. The next chapter might not by up for a while, but hang in there; it WILL be up. I'd like to thank my awesomely cool beta who I would be completely lost without. Thanks 'The Tribble Master'! And I'd also like to thank my reviewers for reading and reviewing. You guys honestly make my day. So, without further delay, I present chapter 8!

Chapter 8

Dean knew he was dreaming.

He had to be; how else would he have ended up at Bobby's house?

This didn't make him feel any better as he walked through the silent rooms, peering wearily into each one, afraid of what he would find.

Your mind is your worst enemy, he thought to himself, his fingers itching for a gun. He grasped in his hand a baseball bat that he'd found on the floor. He treaded softly over the carpeted floors upstairs, baseball bat held firmly in his right hand. As he approached the next room, he suddenly felt uneasy. Something wasn't right.

Dean slowly pushed open the ajar door and peered into the room. His eyes widened.

"Bobby?"

Bobby lay on the floor, blood seeping from a bullet wound in his forehead. His eyes were wide open, gazing unseeingly at the ceiling.

"Oh God, Bobby!"

Dean backed away, feeling the bile rising in his throat. Bobby was- he couldn't be! But the bullet wound… in his head! Dean left the room, heading towards the next room. He pushed open the door, and stopped breathing.

"Sam!"

Dean stared up in horror at the figure of his brother, who was hanging from a fan with a rope tied around his neck. His head was tilted at an abnormal angle as he stared at Dean with dead eyes.

"Sam. Sammy! Please…"

Dean glanced frantically around the room, searching for something, anything that could cut his brother down. His eyes finally noticed a small knife located on a table. He grabbed it, stood on a chair and cut through the rope that had killed his brother. Sam's body fell down ungracefully with a loud thump. Dean got off the chair, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Sam? Oh God… this can't be happening…" Dean rocked Sam's limp body in his arms, his face pressed against Sam's hair, wet with his tears. He could feel Sam's skin, cold against his own, death seeping in. Dean burrowed his face into Sam's hair.

"No… I said I'd protect you. I swore-"

"You failed," a smooth voice interrupted. Dean started, eyes flying up to see the woman standing before him. She was stunning; the kind of girl Dean would normally ask out in a split second. But there was something about her; a presence, a danger that lurked nearby. She stared mockingly at Dean, her brown eyes wide.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Looks like you lost."

Dean's lip curled as he stared at her.

"You," he spat out, wiping the current tears staining his cheek.

"Me," she said happily, grinning down at him. "My, you haven't changed one bit."

"Neither have you. Still as witchy-looking as you always were."

"You really know how to compliment a girl, don't you," she said, sly smile widening.

"You're no girl."

"A witch is still human, Dean."

"Not you."

She walked closer to Dean, who was still clutching Sam tightly.

"My, you are a grudge holder, aren't you? I just injure you a bit and you hold it against me for years."

"Take a look in the mirror, witch. You're the one trying to kill me."

"Yes, well… I can't have you running around after what you tried to do to me. Murderers should be punished, Dean."

"I didn't kill you. But I will. After what you did to Bobby and Sam-" Dean choked on his words, gazing down at Sam's still figure cradled in his arms.

"I didn't do anything to them, Dean. It was you."

"What?"

"Yes. It's all your fault. You led them to find me and now they're dead. Because of you."

"No. You killed them!"

"What choice did I have, Dean? They tried to kill me; I had to defend myself. But if you hadn't told them to kill me, they would still be alive. This is all your doing," she said, voice turning cold. Dean didn't want to believe her, He really didn't. But he knew it was his fault. It was always his fault. Because of him, Sam lay dead in his arms, and Bobby was shot in the next room. Dean could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks; they had never stopped falling since he had discovered Sam. The witch stood before him, watching his grief.

"No… please no…" Dean cried, feeling his heart shatter. He was alone. Sam and Bobby had left him, and it was all his doing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one before closing his eyes. He heard her laugh cruelly and his eyes flew open to see her fly down upon him, mouth opened in a menacing grin-

Dean's eyes flew open again as he sat in bed, shaking. Sam hovered over him, eyes worried.

"Dean! Hey, Dean, it's alright. It's okay."

"Sammy. You're alive?" Dean mumbled, griping Sam's shirt tightly in his fist.

"Yeah. I'm right here, Dean." It was then Dean realised he had tears on his cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away, but was stopped by Sam.

"Dean. What happened?" Sam asked, his voice so comforting and full of love that Dean felt like crying all over again.

"I saw her, Sammy. The witch, the one from Ohio. She killed you and Bobby. She said that you died trying to stop her because I told you to, she-"

Dean couldn't handle it anymore. The dream haunted his thoughts, and remembering how Sam had lain so still in his arms, dead- Dean broke. He grabbed Sam and held him tightly in his arms. Luckily, Sam realised how important this was to Dean, and didn't pull away; instead he remained still, but kept murmuring unimportant phrases to Dean, knowing that it didn't matter what he said, just that he did. Dean sniffed, knowing how unusual it was for them to have this many chick-flick moments. For now though, he relished the fact that Sam was warm and alive in his arms; still breathing and definitely not dead.

Dean eventually pulled away. Sam regarded him, still worried.

"You alright Dean?"

"Yeah, I just… sorry."

"You don't have to apologise for hugging me, man."

Dean cracked a smile in response.

"I'm not dead Dean, and neither is Bobby. I can call him if you like-"

"No, I just-"

And then the image of Bobby, lying dead in his own home flashed before Dean's eyes. He swallowed painfully before looking back up at Sam.

"Actually, I think I will call him."

Sam understood; the number of times he had seen a vision of someone dying, and knowing that it could come true- he could appreciate the fear Dean felt. Dean shakily rose from his bed and grabbed his mobile. He dialled Bobby's number, and waited.

"Dean?"

Dean let out of breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"Bobby."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just… it's nothing."

"You woke me up at 12 for nothing?" Dean let out a sigh.

"I just had a dream, and I had to check you were okay." He admitted.

"I'm fine, Dean. Pretty bad dream, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Well, you go get some more sleep if you can. Hopefully tomorrow we'll catch them witches."

"Yeah. Night, Bobby."

"Goodnight Dean."

Dean put down his mobile, feeling slightly better. Sam observed his reaction.

"All good?"

"Yeah."

Sam smiled, but his happiness faded as he pondered his next question.

"Do you… do you think you could sleep again?"

Dean shuddered at the thought of sleeping, the thought of seeing Sam and Bobby dead again, but he knew he needed to sleep, and more importantly that Sam needed to sleep.

"I'll be fine. They're just dreams, can't hurt me."

Sam couldn't help but notice that Dean didn't sound utterly convinced at his own words. He decided to help Dean out.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Dean demanded to Sam, who was seating himself into a chair beside Dean's bed.

"I'm going to sit here."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Dean, these dreams are obviously bothering you and it helps if you know someone's there!"

"I'm not a kid Sam, I don't need comforting!"

"Well, you didn't look to sure when you woke up from that last dream!" Sam shot back.

Dean flinched. Sam saw the look of shame, and felt guilty.

"Look man, I know that you think its wussy or whatever, being scared of your dreams, but I know how you feel. With all the dreams I had, I thought I would break. But you know what helped?"

"What?" asked Dean, who despite his best efforts had been listening closely.

"You did. Every time I woke up, you were there, and I knew that I was safe."

Silence.

"So… do you still want to reject my offer?"

Dean sighed.

"No."

He clambered into bed and looked at Sam.

"But I swear, you hold my hand or anything… watch out." Dean warned. Sam just grinned innocently before snuggling as much as he could into the chair, attempting to cover himself with a blanket. Dean smirked slightly before yanking the blanket sideways so it actually stayed.

"Thanks Dean."

"Mmhmm."

It took a long time for Dean to get to sleep. And it took even longer for Sam, who kept waking up every now and then to check on Dean. There were a few moments, a few instances where Dean would suddenly twist under his covers, or mutter something, but Sam would be there every time to reassure him, to lay a hand on his shoulder, or to say a few comforting words.

It was a long night.

The next morning, Dean was up first. He went to a nearby store and grabbed some coffee, figuring that since the witches already knew where he was, it didn't matter if he stayed inside or went out. By the time he returned, Sam had begun to rise.

"What time is it? Sam muttered sleepily, moving his neck, which felt cramped.

"Um, about 5."

"Bright and early… is that coffee?"

By about 6, both boys were awake, pumped with caffeine, and ready to go. Bobby joined them soon after.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Sam asked.

"We could check out the houses again," Bobby suggested.

"But they weren't there last time. I checked every one." Sam protested.

Dean shook his head.

"They'll be there this time."

"How do you know?"

"They want me to find them. Last time they tried to scare us, that's why they weren't there. But they will be this time."

Bobby glanced at Dean.

"Okay then, lets hit the road."