A golden retriever was following him and Sam. Sam was laughing, and he pet the dog, smiling up at Dean.

The dog moved towards Dean. As it did so, its shape began to shift and change. Its fur turned to a dark black, and its eyes sank into its skull, turning a vivid red.

It looked as though the dog was a mist of black fangs and blood.

Dean began to run. It was in front of him, now even larger, looming above him. Frothy slobber dripped from its mouth.

Sam had disappeared.

The hellhound growled, and Dean clambered into the impala, putting his keys into the ignition, only to find his keys didn't fit.

His impala purred into a start as it and Dean began to run away from the dog, the impala's hooves clattering down on the pavement.

Dean reared his black horse, and it whinnied beneath him, screaming in pain when the dog grabbed its legs with its hand-like paws. Dean and the horse were pulled to the ground, blood everywhere. Dean hurriedly got up only to find he was alone.

So… so alone.

He couldn't see anything for miles.

Then he saw him: Sam, lying on the ground, burning.

Dean ran as fast as he could to him, through the fire and to his brother. He had to get to him. To protect him! That was his duty- his entire life. He couldn't let him die; he was all he had! Sammy! Sammy, please be alright!

Sam's eyes opened, and he began to speak. But all Dean could hear was a ringing sound.

"Rrring!"

Dean looked around confused, and gradually… opened his eyes.

He was lying on the motel bed, his phone noisily chiming on the bedside table.

'Rrring! Rrring! Rrring!'

Dean took a breath, the dream already fading from his memory, and sat up. He grabbed his phone, and not recognizing the caller ID, answered it.

"Hello?"

"Um… agent?" Came the muffled voice.

"Yeah, that's right. Agent Frehley. Who's this?"

"This is… it's Andy. Look, I've thought about what you and that other agent said. It… makes sense. I think I might be able to tell you some more about what happened that night. Something I couldn't tell the police. But- but if it's actually something that- that you could help with, then I'd really, I'd uh, really appreciate it if we could talk."

"What do you call what we're doing now?"

"I can't be sure this thing isn't bugged. You said… you said demons killed my mom. How can I be sure of anything anymore!? Just- just come to the cemetery on the edge of town. We can talk without interruptions there."

"Wait, right now?"

"When else?!"

Dean rubbed his eye, "Fine, fine. I'll be there in ten minutes or so."

"Thank you, agent. This means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah no problem."

"See you soon…!"

Andy had hung up. Dean sighed, and looked at the time on his phone. It was just after eleven pm. He began to call out for his little brother to get up so they could get going, but then grinned when he realized his brother wasn't there.

Guess he got lucky with Lindsey again, huh? Still, Dean thought he had better tell Sam where he was going at the very least. Still holding his phone, he sent his little brother a message saying:

Went to the cemetery on the edge of town to talk to Andy. Don't wait up.

He stashed his phone in his pocket, not having changed out of his clothes before going to sleep and then got up and out of the motel.

With a start he realized Sam still had the impala. Dean groaned; of course Sam had it. That, and the majority of their weapons if something went awry. Once more, Dean pulled out his phone, and with a great amount of displeasure… ordered a cab.

"What you doing going to the cemetery this late at night?" The cabbie asked, curious.

Dean said nothing as he sat in the back of the cab in annoyance. Having to sit in a cab like this when he owned the greatest car on the planet…

Fortunately for Dean, the trip wasn't a long one. He stepped out of the cab, and paid his fare. He walked towards the graveyard, holding a flashlight in his hands. Dean sighed, and looked around the graveyard.

The kid had told him to meet in the cemetery. Great, that totally narrowed it down. This had to have been one of the largest cemeteries he'd seen.

But there was something about this place… he… he recognized it. His pulse quickened as the realization dawned on him. This was where Sam and Lucifer had fallen into the pit. He never thought he'd have to see this place again.

He forced himself to move forward, shining the flashlight around, calling out for Andy.

There was no answer but for the soft sound of wind.

Dean moved forward into the graveyard, and found himself gravitating towards the spot where Sam had fallen. He wasn't sure the exact reason as to why he was doing so… but as he stood on top of the grass where the pit had opened, shivers ran up and down his spine.

His brother had died here.

His vision blurred for a moment, and the world seemed darker for just a split second. It didn't seem real.

"Dean?"

He froze, turning around to face the owner of the voice, his vision once more restored to normalcy.

"Sam? What- what are you doing here?"

His younger brother stood before him, holding a knife and a flashlight. Dean eyed at him oddly, and Sam glanced around before facing his brother.

"Andy called me, said he had some information."

"Yeah… same here. You didn't happen to see him, did you?" Dean inquired.

Sam shook his head and then leaned against one of the graves, "Why out here, though? What's the point of meeting in a graveyard? In… this graveyard."

Dean knew exactly what Sam meant. What was Andy thinking- that is… if it was Andy. He then sat down across from his brother on one of the headstones.

"It doesn't make any sense," Dean agreed, "What do you think he has to tell us?"

"No idea."

They waited for about ten minutes in silence, before Dean glanced up at the night sky, "Do you think we should just get going then? Doesn't look like Andy's gonna' show."

"Let's wait a bit longer. It's not like we have anywhere important to be."

Dean sighed, and returned his gaze to the sky. It had been a while actually since the two of them had been able to sit together quietly, just… watching the stars. They used to do this so much more often before. All the time, they'd drive out to a big open field and just… watch as the world turned, reflecting in what they could see in the sky.

Dean watched a cloud pass over the moon, and the graveyard grew even dimmer. His eyes traced the sky away from the moon and he stared at his favourite constellations. A gentle smile appeared on his face as he gazed at them.

There was Orion's belt… the big dipper, the littler dipper- that one had been a favourite of Sam's when he was younger. They used to make jokes that Dean was the big dipper and Sam was the little one. Dean grinned to himself as he realized, Sam now being of moose-like proportions, he'd probably be the big dipper rather than Dean.

Not that he'd ever admit that to his little Sammy.

They waited for a few more minutes before Dean stood up, "Come on. Let's go, Sam."

He saw Sam hadn't budged and he looked at him oddly, "Sammy?"

His brother shook his head and stood up off the grave, "Yeah. Yeah I'm coming." He looked around anxiously.

"What's up, Sam?"

"Don't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Sam just shook his head again, "Nothing. I must be imagining things."

An awkward silence fell upon them. They walked forwards through the long, empty graveyard, shining flashlights along the ground so they wouldn't trip over a headstone.

As the light flickered across the ground, worms slithered deeper into the soil, recoiling away from the light. There were always an absurd amount of worms in graveyards. Dean smirked to himself as he made the worms move around, scaring them with the light.

He then glanced up at his brother, and broke the silence, "So, what happened with you and Lindsey? You find out anything worthwhile, or did you just… you know." Dean smirked.

In the dark, Dean couldn't tell what his brother's expression was as he answered, "It's not important."

"What, you guys have a falling out?"

"It's really not important, Dean," His brother insisted, "I didn't find out anything, and nothing happened."

They walked along once more in silence, before Sam froze.

Dean moved his flashlight away from the ground and up to Sam's face, "What is it Sammy?"

"Y-you don't hear it?" Sam said, looking terribly alert. His eyes were wide, and he was looking around the graveyard frantically, as if searching for the owner of the sound.

Dean began to respond, that no, he didn't hear whatever it was—

It felt as though the ground had disappeared from beneath his feet. Like he was suspended in mid-air, not falling, only hanging. For an instant, he forgot who he was. The sound had struck him, and after a moment of disbelief, it grew louder, forcing him back to reality.

It was the growl of a hellhound.

He leapt forward, beginning to run. His brother ran after him, both of them trying to reach the edge of the graveyard. Dean could hear the hellhound bounding after them, the growls growing louder and louder and LOUDER AND LOUDER—

It filled his head until it was all Dean could hear.

The memories of his dream suddenly returned to him. This couldn't be real… and yet he could hear them so clearly- the roar of the hellhounds.

They were all around him. So many of them- everywhere! He had to get away. He had to get away! He didn't want to go back to hell again. He found himself unable to think rationally. He was going to hell. He'd be tortured again. No, he wouldn't let that happen!

They ran towards the entrance to the cemetery, and suddenly a hellhound clawed at Sam's leg.

He yelled in pain as it dragged him down to the ground.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, taking out his gun. He shot randomly into the air around his little brother, praying with all his might that the bullets would hit the hellhounds.

Sam wasn't able to reply. For a moment, time seemed to slow. His brother was dying and there was nothing he could do… he couldn't help him. He can't help him! Sam!

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do!

Please… He found himself pleading with a God he was almost sure didn't care for some sort of miracle.

He lunged forward, no longer even caring what would happen to him, he had to protect his baby brother. Sammy… please, Sammy, please be okay-

He was still shooting randomly, even as he moved towards his brother; every now and then he'd hear a yelp of pain coming from the hellhounds.

All around him were large masses of the hounds, and with a start it dawned of them none of them were attacking him. All of their focus was on Sam. Just as he thought this, Dean was then pushed to the ground by one of the hellhounds, contradicting his theory. He could smell its hot breath on his face- a vulgar combination of ash and rotting flesh.

…Why wasn't it attacking him?

It had him pinned down. He was unable to make any move against it or any of the other hellhounds… and they weren't hurting him.

"SAM!" Dean called out again helplessly, hoping against hope his brother was in a similar situation—that the hellhounds weren't hurting him either.

Nothing could've prepared him for what he heard in reply.

Sam was laughing.

A/N: I loved writing this chapter. Keh heh. What do y'all think is happening!? I'm eager to hear your reviews!

However, I want ya'll to know, I'm doing nanowrimo, so i'm super busy this month.

I have the next few chapters written, but after november, i'm going to take a break from writing. So, expect about... four more chapters before i take, say, a month's break. Sound good?Either way, that's what I'm doing.

Anyway, please review! :D