A/N: Thank you to all of you for the wonderful reviews. I appreciate every single one of them!
I want to thank Devan once again for being such an amazing beta!
Alright on with the story!
-x-
THROUGH FIRE
Chapter 2
There was a sound.
Dean struggled to wake up, trying to remember if the sound had come from a dream or reality. It became clear to him that it was his cell phone, when he saw it vibrate beside him.
"Hello," he said harshly, irritated by the fact that someone wanted to ruin his sleep.
Who the hell calls at 4 AM in the morning anyway?
There was nothing. Dean could only hear fragments of what someone was saying.
"Sonofabitch," a harsh voice said.
There were sounds of movements, but no one seemed to come to the phone. "Hello?" he asked into the phone.
The call was cut.
It started to sound more like a joke. Maybe it was someone who had called the wrong number.
Before going back to sleep again, his gaze turned to Sam's bed, and he nearly got a heart attack when he saw it.
It was empty.
"Fuck!"
Dean threw the covers away, flying out of bed, green eyes raking through the room.
Had someone taken Sam? The mere thought sent chills down his spine. Or did he sneak out, just waiting for the chance when he would fall asleep?
Either way, it had worked.
Sam was gone and Dean hadn't known about it but the thought of Sam being alone at night, God knows where, made him ill.
By the sound of it, it sounded like someone else was involved. Sam hadn't even come to the phone when he'd called. There had just been that other screaming voice.
And God if someone had touched his baby brother, murder wouldn't be out of the question.
By the time he had gotten into the Impala and started to drive, his mind went over all the places where Sam could be.
It all boiled down to whether Sam had gone by himself or if someone had forced him, but something told him that Sam had sneaked out when he had fallen asleep. If that was the case he'd kick his stupid ass, but it didn't matter now.
What mattered was that Dean would find him as fast as possible, to make sure he was alright.
A part of him hoped that Sam was somewhere safe, out of trouble. But when he realized that there was only one bar open, among the other bars and restaurants, he knew Sam must be there.
Dean knew all about the people that gathered past midnight, and it sure as hell weren't your usual people. He'd had his share of strange people, dangerous people, and people just out of their minds.
To even think that Sam was stuck in the middle of that, made his heart slam furiously in his chest.
Scanning the bar quickly, Dean couldn't see that familar face he could see in any crowd.
Sam wasn't here.
A loud noise came from the left side of the bar. Dean noticed that the bartender didn't seem to notice, but Dean was used to noticing things other people didn't.
Following the sound, Dean could see a grey door. He could see black faded letters, the words Store Room paintedon it. Opening the door with his heart in his throat, he didn't know what he would see.
At first he couldn't see anything. Then his eyes started to get used to the dim light. Then he saw a man pinning something to a wall. The man was so large, Dean had to get closer to see who it was.
"I'm gonna kill you with my own..."
Dean finally saw who it was, and his fears had come true when he saw that hair covering those eyes.
It was Sam. Sammy.
"Hey," he yelled furiously.
The man seemed to notice they had company. "Who the hell are you?" He'd turned around to face Dean.
"I'm the one you don't wanna mess with," he gritted out. "Let him go."
The man only sneered. "What are you? His keeper?" Then he turned around, raising his fist to Sam's face.
Dean was next to the man in one stride. "I'm his big brother." He dragged the man away from his brother, who looked like he would pass out any second. "You ever come near him again, and I will kill you."
But the man grabbed Dean, and pushed him away, successfully making Dean hit the wall. Then he turned around to face Sam, who was breathing heavily against the wall covered in darkness.
Dean got up before he hit the ground. Green eyes were blazing when the man grabbed Sam by the shirt.
As Dean punched the man hard right into the solar plexus, slamming him into the wall, he twisted one of the large arms behind the man's back. "I thought we agreed you would let him go." The words were muttered in disgust, a deadly warning in his voice.
"You're fucking breaking my arm," the man gasped, his breathing getting heavier and more rigid by the second.
"I'll snap it off if you so much as look at him again."
"Well I'm t-terrified n-now," the man tried to scoff.
"You should be," Dean said in a dangerous voice.
With one final punch Dean knocked him out, watching how he dropped to the ground.
He had more important things to take care of.
Sam had fallen to the ground, his eyes closed not able to see or hear his brother.
"Sammy! Sam!" Dean fell to his knees next to him, lifting up his head to see how much damage had been done.
"C'mon, wake up for me."
Sam's face was covered in blood, his lip was cut and the side of his face had a big bleeding bruise. Anger surged through him as his eyes fell on the man who had hurt his little brother in such a way.
"Sam, can you hear me?" He tried to see how serious the bruise was, wiping away the blood on his cheek.
Dean brushed the brown curls away from Sam's face. "Sammy, please." He looked so pale, and Dean silently wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.
He should have noticed it, and he cursed himself for not seeing how Sam seemed to slip away from him.
A groan brought his eyes to Sam's face.
"W-what h-happened?" he grimaced.
"You don't remember?"
Sam blinked. "I r-remember two guys, and then I d-don't know," he said, clearly trying to figure out where he was. "H-how did you get here?"
"I drove," Dean answered. When Sam looked confused he added, "I got your phone call."
Sam sat up, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I called you. I had some trouble."
"I'll say," Dean said. He studied Sam intently. "Just don't do that again."
"Do what?"
"If you wanna go out, tell me," Dean went on. "Hell, I don't care how you do it, but you let me know if you want to go out and drink or whatever."
"I didn't want to drink," Sam mumbled, speaking to his knees. "I just wanted to go out."
"Oh yeah? And what if I hadn't picked up, then what?"
Sam still didn't look at him. "I would have made it," he muttered.
"Are you kidding me? No you wouldn't have." Dean sighed. He regarded Sam's pale complexion, a wave of guilt washing over him.
He should have known.
He should have known that Sam wasn't eating or sleeping. It was his responsibility.
And he'd ignored what was right in front of him.
Sam was staring at something Dean couldn't quite see. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah? And I would agree, but things have changed, Sam."
Well obviously.
"Really? I didn't notice," Sam muttered, sarcasm in his voice.
"For one you need to eat something before you start passing out."
Sam only shrugged.
"I mean it, Sam." His pale skin worried him. "I'm gonna get you something to drink."
"I don't need..." Sam started.
But Dean was already on his feet. "Don't move," he ordered.
A moment later he came back to find Sam leaning against the hard wall, not even looking up when he entered.
"Sammy?"
"Uh-huh." Sam looked up at Dean, noticing the glass of water in his hand.
"Here, drink this."
When Sam made no move to drink the water, Dean pressed the cold glass to his lips, helping him drink the clear liquid.
"We should go," Dean muttered.
Someone must have noticed all the noise coming from the room.
"Okay." Sam was struggling to get up, but when Dean tried to help him, he pushed him away.
Still, he wasn't about to let Sam get hurt again. It was why he walked behind him, ready to catch him if he should fall.
The Impala was parked right outside the bar. It wasn't that far to the motel and if Dean had known, he could have made it there by running.
It was still a relief to know that Sam was alright, and that he could fix those bruises. It was the wounds inside he couldn't do anything about.
"I'm gonna walk to the motel," Sam said. "It's not far," Sam added as an afterthought.
"Sam," Dean said. "You're not walking."
"You can't tell me what to do," Sam muttered, irritated.
"Oh yes I can. You're too weak to go anywhere right now. Alright?" Dean was starting to lose his patience. "Now get in the car."
"No," Sam said. "I'm walking." He seemed to mean it too, as he started to move away from the Impala.
Dean didn't say anything at first, he just squinted into Sam's bruised face.
One of Sam's hands came up to scratch his cheek, but then he seemed to remember there was blood there, and the hand fell to his side.
Dean looked at Sam, trying to see that expression in his eyes. It was hard since the only light came from one of the lamps along the pathways, and it was pretty dim.
"I'm serious, Sam." Dean's voice was low with warning. "If you don't get your ass into this car," he pointed to the black Impala, "I swear to God I'm gonna do it myself."
Sam only glared at Dean. "Fine." He then slammed the door behind him.
Great. Just great. Now Sam was pissed at him too.
Walking to their room Sam stumbled three times before they reached their door. Sam didn't even seem to notice.
"You alright?"
"Dizzy," came the tired reply.
"Not eating anything will do that to you," Dean said sharply.
Sam gave him no answer.
Yet that familiar way Sam used to roll his eyes sent warmth through his body.
Back inside their room, Dean noticed how Sam didn't do anything except lay down on his bed, not bothering to remove anything.
"You need to sit up," Dean told him, a cold towel in his hand. But Sam didn't make any attempts to change his position. "Sam, work with me here."
Slowly Sam sat up in a sitting position. "M'tired."
"I know kiddo," Dean breathed. "But it'll get worse if we don't do this."
Carefully, Dean grabbed Sam by the neck to hold his head steady, while trying to remove all the blood.
"You never told me what really happened," Dean said softly.
"Nothing happened."
And the clouds seemed to pass by those brown eyes that looked up at him, waiting for him to make everything alright.
But this time he couldn't.
The sorrow in them went too deep, to a place he couldn't reach.
As the blood disappeared, Dean could see the deep cut just below Sam's eye. It wasn't deep enough for stitches, but it made Dean wish he had gone through with his threat.
"Sam, tell me what happened."
"I can't," Sam mumbled. "Not now." His voice was almost breaking.
It made Dean want to shake his brother and make him tell Dean what was wrong, but he knew he couldn't.
Seeing Sam in so much pain he barely noticed the world around him, was something he had hoped he would never see. And yet, here he was, trying to get through to the one person that was more precious to him than life itself.
"Fine," Dean finally said. "You gonna be able to sleep alright?" He eyed his brother critically.
"I guess."
Dean only sighed.
Sam didn't seem to respond to anything around him at the moment. He just stared at his jacket. "There's blood, Dean," he suddenly whispered, more to himself than to Dean.
Dean had to take off Sam's jacket with the dark blood on one arm, moving it out of Sam's sight. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll wash it."
Sam nodded.
Dean moved to remove Sam's shoes, before pulling the covers over him. "You'll be okay, kiddo. I promise."
oooOOOooo
Dean woke up to the sound of Sam's voice.
"So it's Friday?"
Dean opened his eyes slowly, seeing Sam holding his cell to his ear. "Yeah I think so," he could hear him say.
Someone seemed to be explaining something to Sam, because he started to write down something on a piece of paper. "I don't know how long, but we won't be staying too long."
"Yeah she loved it." Sam's voice sounded hoarse, yet there was evident affection there.
"Okay, I will. Thanks J."
"Who was it?"
"Jodie," Sam answered without facing Dean. "Jess' funeral..." Sam looked at the paper. "...it's this Friday."
Two days from now.
No wonder Sam sounded so terrified, it would be the last time he would get to see Jessica.
To say goodbye.
If Dean could have, he would have protected Sam from that kind of pain, that pain he knew Sam was already experiencing.
"We need to look for Dad, Dean."
There it was.
Sam had a fierce glint in his eye, something that he tried to replace the pain with.
Something Dean was pretty sure he had seen before. In his father's eyes.
Only Sam's eyes were edged with so much pain, it was hard to detect which was what, but he knew what that look meant.
Revenge.
"We will, Sammy." Dean looked at his brother. "But maybe we should..."
Sam cut him off. "We have to find him now, he's the only one..." Sam looked away. "He's the only one who knows how to kill it."
"Whoa, easy there, Tiger." Dean looked into Sam's serious eyes. "We will find him, but until then the only thing we can do is check out this place, if anything's happened this past month. You know the deal."
"Fine."
"Fine," Dean echoed, reaching down into his bag and digging up a laptop. "See if you find something." He handed it over to Sam, who took it and looked as if he remembered something. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Dean pushed down the feeling of irritation that sneaked it's way into his head.
He saw Sam opening the laptop and starting it, and he hoped that this would be something that could take his mind off what had happened to his girlfriend.
When Mary had died, Dean remembered how busy his dad had suddenly become.
With everything.
It was the supernatural. It was looking for information about the house. It was just anything and everything.
Maybe this way, Sam would have something else to focus on.
In the late afternoon the diner next to the motel was almost empty.
Sam hadn't touched his food, but was still reading something on the computer. "I think I have found something, Dean."
But Dean slammed the computer shut. "It can wait."
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm not gonna have you pass out on me, leaving me to carry your ass," Dean smirked, before turning serious. "You need to eat something, Sam."
"I'm not hungry," Sam replied.
"Well," Dean said. "It's not optional. You're gonna eat."
Sam started picking on the salad he had ordered, slowly eating it.
"That's my boy," Dean said, and there was a trace of pride in his voice.
"It tastes funny," Sam muttered under his breath.
Dean laughed at him. "I swear, you were never this picky as a kid."
"Like you would know."
"I would actually," Dean smirked, thinking about how Sam always wanted to taste his food when he was a kid.
oooOOOooo
"Dean, watch your brother," John Winchester ordered his son.
"Okay, Dad," Dean answered, trying to grab his 5-year-old brother who was currently under their table. "Sammy, what are you doing?"
"It looks funnier here, Dean," his brother informed him.
"You're not supposed to be down there, kiddo," Dean told him. "Come on."
"Can I have your fries Dean?" Sam crawled into Dean's lap.
"Sure, Buddy."
"What is Daddy doing?" Sam, asked while eating happily.
"He's just gonna take care of something."
"Do you think he wants fries?"
Dean laughed. "Nah, I don't think so."
"I like them. They taste funny." Sam seemed to consider something for a moment. "Do you want some?"
oooOOOooo
The funeral was a quiet cermony.
But the words relating to Jess sounded dry, and could never do jutice to what Jessica Moore had been like, or how she was able to touch every person who walked into her life.
Sam supposed the cermony was beautiful, and yet he couldn't see what was so beautiful about it. What was so beautiful about it?
Jessica Moore was dead.
She wouldn't come back.
And Sam felt as if he was fading away, more and more with each day.
What was so damn beautiful about that?
He felt cold. He was shivering. He felt like he was looking down at himself from somewhere else, looking down at someone that wasn't Sam anymore.
Because the fire had taken him with it.
He stayed behind when everyone else had left.
Sam had spoken to the Moore's, expressing how sorry he was for what happened.
Silently he wondered what they would say to him if they knew.
If they knew about what part Sam had played in their daughter's death. Would Mrs. Moore still hug him as if he was a part of her family? Would Mr. Moore regard him like he had done?
Sam didn't know.
But Sam knew he had to give back the thing that was theirs by right. He'd held onto it every single night, through every night he'd seen Jess in his dreams, praying it would help him reach her.
"This is yours," Sam whispered.
Mrs. Moore looked at the golden medallion, holding it in her hand, touching the engraved J.
"I couldn't take that, Sam," she said tearfully. "It's yours, Hon."
She reached for his hand, slipping the golden medallion into it. Mrs. Moore held on for a second longer, while looking into Sam's eyes.
There was a little smile in her eyes, as if she wanted to tell him something.
Sam wished he knew what it was, but they were too similar to Jessica's, all Sam could see was that gentleness.
"You take care of yourself now," she whispered. "I know..." her voice broke. "...I know she wanted you to be happy."
"Yeah," was all Sam could say. Tears were burning behind his eyes.
When she hugged him goodbye, Sam could see Dean standing there pretending not to look, but he had been looking at Sam ever since they had gotten there.
Now everyone else had gone. There was just that coffin and Dean standing beside him.
Dean didn't say anything.
Sam was just staring at all the flowers laying there.
They were so many, so many different colours and yet Jess wouldn't be able to see them.
What was the point?
What was the point of anything when the heart of his soul was no longer there.
There was just darkness.
Sam realized he couldn't find any words at all. Everything he had been wanting to say, just died before they reached his mouth.
The only thing he could feel were those tears, and that hollow in his heart that nothing could heal.
"I need to say something," he whispered, eyes locked on the coffin.
"You don't have to." Dean touched his shoulder. "Sam, you can do it later."
He couldn't. Sam needed to do it now. Why couldn't Dean understand that?
"No." Inside his pocket, the medallion was still there within his grasp.
"Sammy." Dean's voice was so strong, it reached him through the screaming pain in his body.
But Sam wasn't answering.
He couldn't see anything but that part of himself that seemed to slowly fade away.
oooOOOooo
"Look at this." Sam glanced at Dean. "12 girls have gone missing every year on Friday the 13th."
"Friday the 13th?" Dean turned around to look at Sam.
"Yeah."
"Weird," Dean said. "This all happened in Cali?"
"Looks like it. Last one was in Los Angeles." Sam showed Dean the article. "What do you think?"
It was over a week since the funeral, and Sam had set his mind on finding anything that could lead them in the right direction. Either if it was finding their dad, or the thing that had taken Jess.
He wasn't picky.
"Sounds like demon material to me."
"You think it has anything to do with what happened?" Serious eyes looked into hesitant ones.
"It's worth checking out," Dean concluded. He raised one eyebrow at Sam. "You up for this?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" There was an accusation in his voice.
"Just asking, man." Dean scanned the article with his eyes. "We should check with Dad's journal before we do anything."
Sam had looked through every page of that journal, but there wasn't one thing he could find that related to Friday the 13th. And he was sure he'd looked through that thing more times than he could remember.
"There's nothing, Dean."
"You sure?" Dean asked, one brow raised. "Let me have a look."
"I'm sure," Sam said dryly. "I've looked through it about a hundred times already."
"What else did you find?"
"Only something about this Agramon, Demon of Fear. Supposedly he wants to kill 13 women, every year Friday the 13th, and it's supposed to make him more powerful."
What Sam didn't mention was the fact that the Demon of Fear could bring your greatest fear to life, how when it got close to you, it had the ability to suck fear right out of you.
If Dean knew about what Sam had just read, there was no way they would even go on this hunt.
And Sam needed to do this.
If it could get them closer to the answer about who killed his girlfriend, then he would do whatever it took.
"Doesn't sound like the thing that got Jessica, though. Friday the 13th is," Dean paused, "in two days."
"We don't know that," Sam said.
"Any way to get that address in L.A, college boy?" Dean smirked at him.
The reason why Sam thought they weren't on the wrong track was that he knew that the Demon hung around, sucking fear out of the place where he'd taken a life.
He'd read up on everything he could find, and how Jessica was connected to those plans, Sam didn't know. But if there was even one small possibility that she was, Sam would stop for nothing.
It was why they were heading for L.A.
Sam had spent an hour trying to convince Dean that this was the right thing to do.
Now he started to think Dean might know more about this Demon than he let on.
As he looked at his older brother, he could see that tight set to his jaw, but his eyes held an unreadable expression. Somehow it looked familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
It didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter right now.
The only thing that mattered was that he was one step closer to knowing something more. Something more that could lead him to the one who had seen Jess in the last minutes of her life.
The place wasn't hard to find.
Among the other houses, there only seemed to be one that had been visited by destruction. It was the house that was furthest away, but closest to the creatures always lurking in the darkness.
Smoke was still coming from the house, which now lay in ruins.
The black Impala was a shiny cloud of black compared to the black dust covering the ground.
"Let's go," Dean muttered.
As Dean looked over his shoulder at the Impala, Sam thought it looked like an owl, just sitting there waiting for them to return.
Its eyes were spying into the night for something that would mean danger.
Smoke was still coming from the house, which looked like it had been something of a castle. The ground covered more space than Sam had ever seen. The once green grass was now a sharp color of black.
The forest to the left side was lost in the dark, the green color no longer discernable. It was just a black vast mass of trees. A white ball could barely be seen through the branches. Its shine wasn't reaching them. It was just hovering somewhere up there in a sky swept by stars.
There was a wind softly blowing, as if trying to reach through Sam. It was something so chilling, Sam felt as if an icy fist was clutching at what was left of his heart. If blood could freeze, then his would. It was exactly like having ice in your blood.
Sam could almost hear something whispering to him, but what he couldn't hear. All he knew was that it was coming from far away, but it made something stir deep within him.
"Sam!"
"What?"
"Didn't you hear me?" Dean asked, irritation now evident in his voice. "You need to stay focused."
"Whatever," Sam muttered.
"I mean it, Sam! You gotta be careful," Dean told him firmly. "This Demon might show you something that isn't true, and you can't listen to that. You got it?"
Sam only ignored his brother.
His mind was trying to hear that voice he knew was coming from those trees. It was calling out to him, and the only thing he needed to do was to get closer to it. If he could follow it...
"Sam?"
It was almost echoing around him, that sound of a stone falling into the water. When you hear that soft plunge into the water, right before everything becomes still and silent.
Every thought of the voice disappeared when he could feel something grab his arm roughly.
Now he knew what that expression in Dean's eyes meant. He'd seen it before in his father's eyes.
Anger.
Dean's eyes were a stormy green, a typhoon was raging in them. They seemed to be regard Sam's every move. There was a sharpness there Sam didn't think he had ever seen before.
"Alright, give me that incantation." Dean held out his hand.
Sam stared straight into Dean's eyes definatly. "What, you think I can't do it?"
"I didn't say that," Dean said, his voice turning low.
"You were thinking it," Sam accused.
"What exactly do you plan to do then?" Dean asked, his voice transparent with suspicion.
As Sam was about to answer Dean had pushed himself in front of him but Sam could still see it. It was a woman, she was moving faster than lightning, but her red eyes were like beacons in the night.
"I'm going after it," Sam said, not offering any other explanation.
Dean stared at him a long time before saying something. "Forget it."
But Dean's voice suddlenly seemed to disappear somewhere in the darkness. It wasn't reaching him anymore, Sam barely noticed anything from where he was standing.
Everything except one thing.
The flying blonde hair flashing in the darkness, the figure of someone looking like a fairy, glowing in the night and diappearing between the shadows.
Jess.
She was here.
It was her voice that had been echoing inside him, awaking something that had once been alive. It was echoing in the air around him, it was in the wind that blowed his way.
Without another thought in his mind Sam followed the shadow that had seemed to shine for a second.
He ran towards the direction where she had gone, into that deep forest.
Sam needed to see that light again, that glow that made his heart beat a little faster.
It was all that mattered, the only thought that was existing in his mind.
"Sammy? SAM!" Dean screamed.
He wasn't deaf. Sam heard him clearly, but his brother's voice was growing distant. There was too much space in between. It was something that lingered in his mind, but all he could do was push it to the back of his head.
Sam needed to see her.
The forest was even darker than he'd thought, but now he could see that clear white moon shining light wherever it could reach. Some places were still hidden in the darkness, making it hard to see anything.
As everything seemed to close around him, Sam found that he didn't care. He'd become used to darkness that would never go away. It would be there in his mind, like an endless night.
Then he saw it.
It was a shadow, but it was so strong that this time he knew exactly where it was. It wasn't even moving, just standing there waiting for something.
Slowly, as Sam started to get closer, he felt how the wind seemed to blow stronger in the center of the forest. A wind was blowing right through his clothes, and into his skin.
Sam was right behind her now, close enough to see that hair he'd once felt, every time he'd held her close to his body. Her warmth had always had a way of chasing away all the shadows he seemed to be carrying inside.
As she turned around, Sam didn't even realize that he was holding his breath. " Jess," he whispered breathlessly.
"Sam," she said.
It wasn't really clear to him what she was, if she was a shadow of something, or if it really was...if she really was...
Only then did he notice her dress.
It was as white as fresh snow, making her glow in the dark. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the very dress she'd wore to their first dance together.
But then there was something wrong with her voice, something he'd never heard before.
The wind was carrying her whisper. "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"You know what you did, Sam," she said, in a voice so cold that it was chilling. "You let me burn. It was you who killed me."
"No..." Sam tried to say, but it was barely a whisper.
Now Sam could see that there was something wrong with those eyes that had once been so blue, so clear, that it was like diving into the ocean everytime she looked at him.
But now they had turned grey, and all he could see was the crushed ice in her eyes.
His nightmare had somehow come true.
"Jess..." he tried.
Sam had to make this right. He had to. Anything else was unthinkable.
"Were you really that selfish that you couldn't have told me? Didn't you want to save me?"
"I swear Jess..."
"What good will your swearing do, when I'm dead?"
It was like breathing through an icy fog.
"I'm sorry, Jess," Sam whispered, feeling as if he couldn't get any air. "I was trying to protect you."
"Who do you really think you're fooling?" she looked straight into his eyes. "You let me burn, even though you had those dreams. If you had wanted to, you could have saved me."
Her voice was starting to shake, and for the first time Sam realized that it wasn't with sadness, but with cold fury.
"I'm so sorry. I wish..."
"Wish what? You had your chance Sam. You could have told me. But your secrets were more important than me, weren't they?" Her voice was screaming in his head, echoing.
"They weren't. I promise..."
She cut him off. "Do you know what it's like to burn?"
Sam didn't want to listen, and yet he couldn't turn away. Somehow all he could see was Jessica Moore, his girlfriend, and not the distorted version of her.
He never noticed how it was barely a ghost of the girl he knew, but a Demon feeding on his deepest fear.
"Jess, don't..." Sam pleaded.
"It's like having millions of knives going through your entire body, over and over again." Her voice turned low. "It never stops."
Something was starting to claw at Sam's heart, not letting him breathe but only feeling the utter pain that he hadn't been able to save the only girl he'd ever loved.
"It shoudn't have been me," she whispered. "It should have been you, and we both know it."
"I know," Sam said, ignoring the tears behind his eyes. "I'm sorry."
She was silent.
"Jess, please." His voice broke, and the words were barely above a whisper. "Please forgive me."
Sam couldn't stand to see her like that. He hated himself for the fact that she was dead and he was alive.
He was the one that should have been dead.
"I can't," was all she said.
There was a sound of something coming closer, and Sam could hear how branches were being crushed.
Someone was coming.
But what did it matter? Sam had known the truth ever since that fire. Nothing had changed. It would always be his fault, and his alone.
As he saw Jess, he tried to see through the words. He tried to see who was standing behind her. But he couldn't see anything but her.
What he never failed to see was that ice in her eyes, so cold, as if she had the power to freeze the veins in his body. There was an anger there, something he had never seen before.
It started to scare him, but more than anything, it started to break him into pieces.
"SAM!"
So the sound wasn't someone. It was Dean.
It figured.
"What the..." he breathed as he approached Sam. His voice died when he saw the person standing before his brother.
Then Sam remembered.
The Demon, this was it.
It wasn't Jess. It had never been her even though it looked just like her. Sam didn't know what to think anymore. Everything was turned upside down.
His hands found the incantation, but just as his lips were forming the first word, it was ripped from him when Dean pushed him behind him.
"Dean!"
If Dean hadn't started muttering that latin incantation Sam would have, but his brother muttered it rapidly not even looking at what he was supposed to get rid of. He constantly cast sideway glances at Sam, as if he would do something that needed to be stopped.
Sam was sick of it.
He didn't need Dean's protection this time around.
And with that thought in his head, he rushed forward about to grab the latin incantation from Dean.
It was still Jess, and Sam wouldn't let anyone try to kill Jess.
"Sam, get back," Dean said angrily.
Sam didn't move an inch from where he was standing in front of that being that still looked like his girlfriend.
But just as the thing that looked like Jess was getting paler, the glow disappearing and being replaced by a white light, the chill inside of him seemed to disappear.
"Nooo," Sam screamed.
At that same moment, Sam could feel warmth flowing through his body, but he could also feel that pull, as if something was pulling him backwards.
And as the air started to clear in the heart of the forest, Sam started to fall backwards.
Before he even knew what was happening, he hit something so hard, it felt as if his head was cut in two.
It was as if someone had taken an axe, and hit him over the head with it, only leaving that vicious pain filling every bit of his head.
At first it had felt as if everything was going in slow motion, just like when you throw that perfect stone, waiting for it to touch the water.
You try to see it hit the surface, but it always goes too fast in the end, and you won't be able to see it from afar.
Sam knew he was just like that stone, hitting the surface too fast.
The only difference was that while the stone fell softly into the water, he fell hard against something as hard as a mountain, something hard enough to crush his brain.
What was worse was the way Dean had looked at him the moment he was done with the incantation. When he had turned around, fury wouldn't even begin to describe those emotions swimming in his eyes.
"Sam?!" It looked as if Dean couldn't see him now. His eyes were searching through the darkness.
"Ow," Sam moaned, as he lifted his head and tried to see what had caused him that kind of pain.
It was a rock.
Sam lay on his back, his eyes shut tightly in an effort to shut out the pain. There were violet spots in his head. They made him want to let go so he could slip away.
But he couldn't.
"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, his eyes never shielding the worry there.
"I'm fine," Sam said, feeling the back of his head. The pain was starting to fade away, but as he felt the back of his head, he felt something wet.
When he saw his fingers there was definitly something dark there, something that could only be blood.
"You call this fine? You're not fine," Dean informed him harshly. "C'mon," he helped Sam stand up to look at him, but Sam only pushed him away.
"Stop treating me like I'm five," Sam muttered, irritated. "I told you I'm fine."
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"That's none of your goddman business! Just leave me alone already," Sam said loudly, turning away from his brother.
Dean only grabbed him by the arm. "Oh believe me, when you're about to get yourself killed, it is my business!" Dean bellowed, fury flashing in his eyes.
"This has nothing to do with you, so just lay off!" Sam gritted out.
"Lay off? Are you trying to kill yourself, or are you just that stupid? This isn't a game Sam!"
Sam regarded his brother quietly. It sounded as if he was talking to a 5-year-old, and it didn't make it better.
"Yeah? Everything is a game to you apparently, so don't forget that!"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Sam?" Dean tried to search his eyes. "What the hell is your problem?"
Sam cast his gaze downwards, staring at the damp leaves, refusing to meet Dean's alert eyes.
"Do you want to die, is that it?" Dean grabbed his jacket, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"So what if I do? It's doesn't matter anyway," Sam yelled. "I don't care."
"Oh yeah? Well I do!" Dean breathed. "And you're not dying, not as long as I'm around."
"Screw you Dean!"
Sam disentangled himself from his brother's grip, pushing him away.
"We're not done here, kid." Dean blocked his path.
It was amazing how even though Sam was literally taller, Dean could still tower over him just like when they had been kids.
"I'm not a kid!" Sam screamed through clenched teeth.
"Then stop acting like one. Because if I hear you say something like that again..." Dean warned.
"You'll do what?" huffed. "You don't get it do you? I don't care." Sam didn't care about what he saw in his brother eyes anymore. "You can do whatever you want, I'm done."
"So you're just giving up, just like that! Do you really think that's what Jess wanted?"
Sam exploded. "You don't know shit about her, so don't try to act like you knew her. You never did."
This time Sam turned his back from Dean, walking away from him.
Before he could do anything, Dean had grabbed him from behind, slamming him into a tree.
"What you need to understand is that all of this, what happened to Jess wasn't your fault." Dean never took his eyes off him.
Sam couldn't look at him. Tears were starting to rise in his eyes.
But Dean only took hold of his chin harshly, so that Sam couldn't look away. "What you saw was only fear. It wasn't Jess. You know that right?"
"Quit treating me like I'm stupid. I'm not!"
"You need to deal with this Sam. I don't care how you do it, but you have to." Dean paused. "Because if you don't, you're going to kill yourself in the process."
Sam started to say something, but Dean wouldn't let him finish.
"Even if that's what you want, I'm not letting you die."
"I don't care," Sam muttered.
"This has to stop, Sam. I'm not going to watch you fade away to nothing anymore."
"Then don't! I don't need you to watch me every hour of the day."
Dean snorted. "Yeah? Then you have to stop this bullshit, you can't live like this."
"Oh and you know everything about living? All you do is hunt, have sex occasionally and then you hunt some more."
"I'm doing what needs to be done, Sam. It's tough but someone needs to do it," Dean looked at him pointedly. "You know this."
"Why don't you go and hunt then? I don't care," he mumbled.
"Sorry," Dean said. He didn't sound sorry at all. "I can't do that."
"And why the hell not?" Sam screamed in frustration. "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm leaving."
Dean only gripped his arms tightly, pinning them down, to keep him from going anywhere. "I thought you were the one who wanted to kill the thing that got your girlfriend."
"Haven't you been listening? I don't care."
"Well I do," Dean exhaled heavily. "We're going to find Dad whether you like it or not. I'm not letting you go anywhere."
In his frustration, Sam managed to break free from Dean's grip. "You're not letting me go anywhere?" Sam scoffed. "Well that's too bad, I'm going anyway."
"Oh yeah, I'd like to see you try," Dean said, his voice challenging.
It was as if all his strength was starting to leak out of him, the fight in him was disappearing, and suddenly a wave of exhaustion fell over him.
His thoughts became blurred, and he had a sudden urge to just sleep. "Can we just go?"
"Fine," Dean agreed.
As they started to walk out of the forest, Sam tried to ignore the feeling of drowsiness, so strong he didn't even know if he'd make it to the car.
Dean walked behind him, not saying a word. But he could feel the anger and frustration hanging in the air, ready to explode.
So Sam didn't say anything.
It didn't matter how tired he was. Why the hell would it matter when his soul was slowly dying?
oooOOOooo
It was starting to get darker outside.
The motel suddenly seemed cold, with it's dim lights and the heat that didn't reach the right warmth.
Dean was lying on the covers of his bed flipping between the channels. As Sam regarded him, it looked like he didn't even care what he was doing.
Sam knew what that felt like.
The laptop was on the little table. Sam was trying to look for something, anything that could take his mind off what he had seen today.
It didn't matter what Dean had said. Everyone who could put two and two together could figure out just how involved Sam had been in Jess' death.
In front of him, there were pages of mysterious disappearences, things Dean wanted them to hunt. But Sam couldn't look at it anymore. That feeling of drowsiness hit him harder than before. He felt as if he could sleep forever, and it still wouldn't be enough.
He could feel pain in his head if he moved it to fast. At first it wasn't really noticeable, but only moments later, he felt like his head was too heavy to lift.
As Sam went into the bathroom, he didn't notice where he was going. Stumbling he had to take hold of the door for support.
When he looked into the mirror, there was no sound of the TV anymore.
"You alright, Sam?" Dean's voice was tight and strained.
"Fine," he called out, not bothering to close the door.
The movements of his toothbrush were clumsy and not like they normally were. Sam didn't wonder about it. He knew how tired he was.
Dean seemed to turn on the TV as he walked into the room. The sound was suddenly very loud. "Sam?"
"I'm going to bed now," he said.
Dean stared at him pointedly.
"I thought I told you I was fine," Sam snapped.
Crawling into his bed, he tried to find warmth there in the hope of lessening the pain in his head.
Sam closed his eyes, trying to focus on how much he needed to sleep without those memories getting in the way.
Minutes later the room turned dark as Dean got into his bed as well. Sam wondered if it would be easier to sleep if he climbed into Dean's bed, but then he remembered the fight they had before and let if fall.
Pain was filling his head like dark waves, and suddenly the irresistable weight of sleep took over.
oooOOOooo
Something was moving.
It was either in his dream, or it was in their room.
Blinking, Dean quickly scanned the room while trying to wake up.
There was nothing.
The glowing numbers beside him informed Dean that it was only 6 AM. Normally, when he was hunting, this was when he'd already be up, or at least trying to get up.
But normally didn't occur anymore, especially not since Sam had lost his girlfriend. Then black had turned into white and everything had turned around.
Throwing a glance at his brother, he noticed that Sam looked somewhat peaceful, only moving slightly.
Dean silently wondered how long it would last.
Just a few nights ago, he'd tried to convince Sam to take some sleeping pills so he would be able to sleep. It hadn't really surprised him when Sam had turned down the offer.
oooOOOooo
"Don't you want to sleep for more than two hours?" Dean had asked, one morning when Sam had woken up pale from lack of sleep.
"Yeah, but I'm not taking those."
"Yeah? Why not?"
"They won't work," Sam muttered.
"Sam," Dean sighed. "There's nothing dangerous about taking these if you can't sleep," he said.
"If that's what you're worried about."
"It's not," Sam mumbled.
"Then what is it?"
Sam had looked up at Dean, with that deep emotion in those brown eyes, but he didn't say anything.
"You don't understand."
oooOOOooo
Apparently he didn't.
Sam had only used those pills for one night, but after that he'd preferred having those nightmares, sleep only coming to him when exhaustion haunted him.
All thoughts of sleep disappeared when Dean realized he wouldn't be able to fall asleep now that he was wide awake.
Instead of trying to settle in behind the covers, Dean headed for a hot shower.
There was something soothing about the hot water falling down, just like Dean didn't mind when the rain fell all around the Imapala as they drove. It was like a layer of protection shielding them.
Sam had been agitated when he went to bed last night. He supposed that was why he went to bed earlier than usual.
Lately Sam had wanted to stay up late, maybe even the entire night just staring at that computer.
Dean knew better.
It was just another distraction, another distraction that would keep the thoughts of Jess at bay. The memories that seemed to haunt his little brother were constantly visible in Sam's eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
What he didn't know was how deep those wounds were, how Jess seemed to have that part of Sam's heart that he wouldn't be able to reach no matter how hard he tried.
Once, Dean had been able to see all the colors of Sam's soul in his eyes. Now, there was just a dark cloud veiling them, and nothing could take it away.
When Dean was ready to wake up Sam, it was already 12 PM. It had to be some kind of record, even for them.
He decided it was time to get rid of that loaded tension hanging in the air around them. It was starting to get heavy. A part of him wanted to shake Sam to make him snap out of whatever dark cloud he had covered himself in.
If Sam continued to blame himself like he had apparently done ever since Jess had disappeared in those golden flames, it would be the end for both of them.
"Sam, you awake?"
His brother only moved a tiny inch.
You really don't want to test me today, Sammy.
"Sammy!"
"Uh," Sam mumbled in his sleep.
Dean lifted the covers slightly to make Sam wake up. "Come on, you can't lie here all day."
When Sam opened his eyes they weren't clear, but rather hazy. "I can."
Five minutes later Sam slowly started to move out of his bed.
"We can go out and eat today. It's late," Dean said, searching the drawer for one of Sam's sweaters.
Sam was quiet.
"...I'm telling ya, it's better than staying in here," Dean continued.
The only thing Dean heard was a loud crash.
When Dean turned around, Sam wasn't in his line of vision anymore.
"Sam...SAM!"
He was behind the bed, lying on his back. Dean's heart was starting to slam in his chest.
There on the floor, his little brother was lying, as if he had an earthquake vibrating through his entire body, stretching it out. Sam's body was twitching, hands jerking out of control. It was almost as if waves of electricty were going through his body.
The worst part was that there was nothing Dean could do about it.
"Hey," Dean called out desperately. "Sammy, try to breathe, okay?" Dean's hand brushed Sam's brow, feeling a damp coolness under his hand.
Whatever was happening, it was starting to tighten Dean's chest with fear.
Sam was turning blue, his breathing deep but ragged. His eyes were starting to close, eyelashes now touching his cheeks.
"Easy, kiddo. Take it easy," Dean said, hoping his words would reach Sam somehow.
Somewhere, Dean remembered hearing that you should speak calmy and never scream when this was happening.
His words didn't seem to do anything but worsen the situation. Sam's breaths were transforming into shallow wheezes, as if he was suffocating.
"Sammy, c'mon, don't do this!"
Dean tried to grab Sam, in an attempt to steady him by holding him closer for physical contact.
But nothing seemed to be working.
Sam was slowly slipping away from him, causing an explosion in Dean's heart, panic settling there like fireworks. The only thing he could see was Sam's body, how hard it was shaking, and how nothing he did seemed to stop it.
"Sam, you gotta stay with me, man," Dean whispered into the brown curls.
Terror was lingering in the air when the only voice he heard was his own. "SAM!"
There was no answer. There was only the weight of his brother in his arms, still and quiet.
oooOOOooo
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