This is the second request, from 'Lilybolt' - who's also an amazing supporter of my writing, even when it's not so good, so thank you so much for that! She asked for a nightmare for Sam about Dean's hell, but set in the later seasons, so it's unexpected, and Dean's surprised that Sam still has nightmares like that when so much more nightmare-worthy events have happened since. This is going to be set season 7, because I didn't so much like the first half of season 8 and the second half was more focused on the Trials, so I don't know if it would fit in, so there we go. It's also going to be set after Bobby's death, but before Sam went crazy with Lucifer. I'm going to enjoy writing this one, and hope you enjoy reading it too. :) You can still make requests! I only have one request left after this, so please feel free to ask for a story; it keeps me going! Thanks again :)

Season: Seven **spoilers for 7x10** - set after Bobby's death, just to add some extra angst, but before say 7x15

Characters/Themes: Sam, Dean, some HallLucifer; hurt/comfort, nightmares, hell, angst, family

Request: from 'Lilybolt' - "Sam has a nightmare about when Dean went to Hell, and Dean comforts him. The trick here is that the nightmare comes years after the event (maybe around season 7 or 8?) and Dean is surprised to find out that Sam still has those dreams despite how much has happened since then"

Sam sighed as he rolled over in the uncomfortable hotel bed, turning to face Dean's sleeping form instead of the window on the wall.

The elder Winchester had been out since his head had touched the pillow, after a particular nasty salt and burn that had left the both of them bruised and battered and wishing for sleep.

However before Dean had crashed, he had still made sure to check on Sam, who had been actually whipped by the ghost. Luckily ghost-whipping didn't seem to actually cause any open wounds, and after a brief triage of the bruises showing up, Dean had pronounced him fine and slapped him on the back, grinning when Sam jumped in pain and bitchfaced him.

"Get some sleep, princess," Dean had told him, before promptly following his own orders.

Good advice, and Sam would if he could, but it was just... the ghost they had been burning, it and its whip, had reminded Sam forcefully of hell. Not his own; he was thinking of that all the time, and his experience was not so much whip but more torture. No, the flogging and the hissed threats reminded him of Dean's Hell.

Because even though it had been years and lots more crap since Dean had gone to hell literally for Sam's life, it was one thing - out of many, of course - that Sam just couldn't shake thoughts of.

His brother had been in hell, alone, screaming for hell, whipped and tortured, and then Alistair...

Sam sat up in bed, unable to think about that for too long. He couldn't bear it. The very thought of what Dean had gone through, and then even afterwards, when Castiel had raised him, there had been a whole year of flashbacks and insomnia from the terrible nightmares that waited him in his dreams.

Much like Sam now, except Dean had gone first. And that made all the difference.

After all, what had his brother said to him when trying to talk him out of Lucifer's suicidal words, back when he started hallucinating? I've been to hell. I know how it feels.

That wasn't strictly true, as Sam's hell tour was much worse than Dean's - something that he had also repeatedly stated. But Dean did know how the pain felt, and that's how he managed to get some out of his head and back with physical pain from his hand.

Sam massaged the scar now, as he sat in bed, trying to calm down. Thinking of hell, whether his or Dean's, wasn't any help at all, and he decided to just try to sleep. Laying back down slowly, he watched Dean sniff and shuffle in his dreams.

Not thinking of hell, no doubt. If he was, he'd be awake by now, or wouldn't have gone to sleep in the first place. Sitting awake with that terrified look that he could barely attempt to hide. Nothing could hide hell.

After Bobby's death, Dean had hardly slept. Sam caught snatches when he could, dreams full of troubling times without their surrogate father, and tried to persuade his brother, hell bent on revenge, to sleep, to rest, so they could actually make plans for revenge.

It had taken weeks before Dean had finally succumbed to sleep; according to Frank, for over a day before he woke, still exhausted but more ready. To go and rescue Sam from the Vetalas, of course. Damn monsters.

Thinking all this as he tried to settle, Sam sighed. Not exactly the kind of things one thought about whilst trying to get some sleep. So instead, Sam tried to blank his mind - and Lucifer whispering over in the corner as he admired the crappy paint work of the motel room - and closed his eyes.

And almost opened them again in shock as Lucifer shook his head with a disappointed sigh as though he expected better, and bent over him to talk quietly in his ear. "You'd better get some sleep while you can, Sammy boy... cause you're gonna have to let me in sooner or later. I mean again, of course. Already done it once... that's where all this hell comes from..."

Eyes determinedly shut, Sam felt for his hand scar and pressed it. After a moment, the mutterings vanished. Sam kept his eyes closed to prevent seeing what nightmare his hell was making real.

Not real not real not real.

He slipped into evil dreams.

Sam hurried down the corridor. If he didn't get there soon, Dean was going to hell. Leaving him. Again. Always leaving him.

Always going, for the greater good. Didn't these monsters understand? There was no greater good than his brother being by his side, the way it was meant to be. The Winchesters together, working together, hunting together - they belonged with each other. One simply could not be without the other.

Dean was on the table. Just a normal table, but it may as well be a butchers's table. The hellhounds were going to come in and rip him to shreds.

There was nothing Sam could do. Lilith - so close to Lucifer, so close... I burn cold...

She had him up against the wall, kissing him for no particular reason. Just because she could. It didn't matter. Sam didn't care. He wanted a deal. He wanted Dean.

He always wanted Dean, and Dean was always there.

Unless he couldn't be.

Unless he was dead.

Unless he was in hell, screaming Sam's name...

Lilith laughs at him; laughs at the both of them. At their futile lives, their unbelievable goals. Of course they couldn't stop her.

Sam smirks at her to anger her, and Dean glares.

She just laughs in their faces like they don't get the joke, but it's so funny.

Then she goes to the door.

She's using Ruby's old body; Ruby, who deserves to get torn to shreds.

Ruby couldn't save Dean. After that she was useless.

Lilith opens the door and the hellhound stream in.

In his dreams, Sam can see them.

See their faces, see their shimmering black bodies.

All he sees now is their claws, their bloodied teeth, growling and barking as they maul Dean to death.

Sam's screaming, but no one can hear him.

Lilith is laughing.

Dean is yelling in pain.

Sam is sobbing in an entirely different version of pain.

Lucifer joins in, cackling.

Dean is calling him from hell.

Dean is calling him...

"Sam! Sammy! Wake up!"

He jerked awake, sitting up, eyes wide, looking around wildly.

Dean retreated a little, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed and watching him with bone deep concern. "You were having a nightmare," he told Sam, in case he wasn't aware of why he was feeling whatever he was feeling, worry evident in his voice as Sam tried to catch his breath and orientate himself.

The elder Winchester waited a moment, knowing how it was with nightmares, and especially Sam's nightmares. Sometimes Lucifer just wouldn't let him go, and he would barely wake up, half suffocating under the bedcovers, screaming.

But this time it seemed different. He had been calling for Dean and sobbing; not as though he was being tortured, but as though Dean was in trouble and he couldn't help him or save him. Oh yes, Dean definitely knew what that was like.

"What was it?" Dean asked quietly once Sam had calmed down enough to slow his breathing and try to stop trembling. His brother shrugged and looked down, away from Dean. He frowned as he realised this would be complex. "Sam," Dean said patiently, and waited for his brother to look at him. "Was it hell?"

Shifting uncomfortably - wondering how he had woken up; screaming? Yelling Dean's name? Probably both - Sam blew out a breath and decided to tell Dean to truth. Because nothing works well when hiding from one another. That's what they were there for.

"It was... hell," Sam confirmed, and Dean sat back a little, expression turning into pity. He knew what that was like. "But..." Sam hesitated and paused, taking in Dean's questioning expression. "It was... when you went to hell. Your hell."

Dean's expression turned to one of surprise, studying Sam with his usual concerned scrutiny.

"My hell? As in, Lilith and all that? When I was dragged to hell?" He asked to confirm.

Sam winced at the reminder, and nodded. "Yeah, I just..." he waved a hand, telling his brother to dismiss it. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Dean caught his arm and stared at him until Sam looked back. "Sammy, you need to tell me these things," Dean told him seriously, then let go of Sam's arm and gestured to the curtained window. "Besides, it's already light."

Blinking in surprise, Sam realised that it indeed was already morning. "Oh..."

Chuckling a little at his little brother's confusion, Dean still wasn't done with the first topic. "So... how come you're having nightmares about that now?" He asked, unable to help but wonder. After all they had been through since them - and Sam's own personal hell too. How come he still thought about Dean's hell?

Sam shrugged, avoiding the topic, but after a pointed glance from his brother, he sighed and elaborated. "I couldn't sleep, and started thinking about hell, which wasn't a great idea, but Lucifer was whispering -"

He halted immediately, seeing Dean's expression darken. "Lucifer?" He repeated, and Sam nodded numbly. Dean sighed harshly and glanced around the room before back at Sam. "So if it was Lucifer, how come you ended up thinking about me being dragged to hell?"

"You, uh... that was... one of the worst nights of my life. Losing you. Properly, I mean. Well, at the time," Sam tried to explain, hesitating. He held up his hands. "It's fine. I'm awake now and that was ages ago. Can I get up?"

Dean realised that he was sitting on Sam's bedcovers, stopping him from getting up. "Oh, yeah." He quickly got up and sat on the edge of his own bed, watching Sam with narrowed eyes as his little brother got up and headed for the bathroom with a sense of desperate-to-get-out-of-the-room.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Dean called before Sam shut the door. His brother looked back and tried for a smile.

"Yes, Dean. As long as you're here," he replied, which couldn't be more truthful.

Dean nodded instead of rolling his eyes at the sappy moment, and Sam shut the door. Although he had briefly let him in, he was now shutting Dean out.

The elder Winchester sighed and looked up at the ceiling. To think that after everything they had been through - together and not - Sam still regarded Dean's going to hell as a result of his frankly selfish actions one of the worst experiences of their screwed up life.

And it hurt Dean to know that every May, near his birthday, rather than celebrating that he was still alive, Sam mourned for that day that his brother was literally ripped from him, and his heart had not healed since, and never would.