CHAPTER 8

Sam was glad Dean was away from the table when the waitress came to take away their empty glasses as it prevented the elder Winchester from ordering another round. Dean usually waited for between hunts to tie one on but Sam knew his brother too well. He knew Dean tended to reach for the hard stuff when he was really scared. This usually wasn't a problem since not much managed to scare the hardened hunter except chick flick moments and Sam in trouble, but with his deadline quickly approaching, Sam could see through Dean's cool facade. The increase in nips of whiskey lately was just one of the signs that fear was gnawing away at him.

The hunters couldn't see much from their booth in the corner since it was Friday and the bar was starting to get crowded, so he and Dean were taking turns faking visits to the men's room in an effort to scope out the kitchen for any sign of Sheldon. Once they spotted him, the plan was to have Tasha lure him out to the desolate back parking lot where he and Dean would take over. Sam shuddered to think about what was to happen after that.

Meanwhile, left alone at the table with Tasha, he was trying very hard to make small talk and sound like he wasn't thinking about what they had done the night before. How sexy she looked naked and covered in sweat, how good it had felt to be inside her, and how badly he wanted to do it again. He kept glancing around the bar as much in an effort to avoid eye contact with her as to search for any sign of Sheldon.

He was answering her question about how long ago Dean's last tetanus shot was when he heard the commotion. He looked around sharply to see his brother leaping onto one of the tables and towards the back door, drinks spilling and people screaming all around. Sam was on his feet in an instant, his hunter's training reducing his reaction time to as close to zero as was humanly possible.

He dashed around the frantic patrons at the table and towards the bouncer that was still reeling from Dean's hard punch, keeping his eyes on his brother's form disappearing out the back door. The bouncers were following Dean and both of them had made it outside by the time Sam caught up. The larger one went to grab for Dean again, who was staring at a blue car racing away with a panicked look on his face. Sam intercepted the lunge, throwing his weight against the big man's shoulder and knocking him off balance before he could reach Dean.

The scuffle dragged Dean's attention from the speeding car just in time for him to duck and avoid a swing from the second bouncer, the same one he had hit before. He refrained from striking back as he couldn't afford the delay of getting into a fight with the two large bouncers. It wasn't that he didn't think he and Sam could take them, Dean was confident to the point of being cocky when it came to his fighting skills, it was that he needed to get to the front parking lot and the Impala immediately.

"Wait! Wait!" he shouted, holding his hands up in the air. "I'm sorry, I swear," he spoke as calmly as he could, trying to put the bouncers at ease. "I'm leaving," he placated. "I'm just gonna go round front to my car, okay?"

He noticed Tasha was standing behind the men and was swinging the door shut to avoid nosey patrons from trying to follow the action outside. He nodded to her and Sam and knew that they would both follow his lead without questioning. "We're leaving," he repeated, stepping calmly sideways towards the corner of the building. Sam and Tasha followed suit, Sam also walking backwards with his hands in the air.

The bouncers seemed to be satisfied that the troublemakers were leaving and nodded, standing their ground. "Don't try to come back in," one of them warned sternly.

Dean assured them he wouldn't and as soon as he reached the corner of the building, he dropped his hands and ran for the Impala, Sam and Tasha close on his heels.

Sam used his longer legs to his advantage and reached the driver's door first. Dean ordered him to 'follow that blue Toyota!' as he threw himself into the shotgun seat. Tasha barely had the back door closed as Sam peeled out of the parking lot in the direction the Toyota had gone.

"Is that Sheldon?" he asked, already knowing the answer as they sped down the road in search of the blue car.

Dean just nodded, his eyes scanning the side streets they were speeding past. The road they were on ended abruptly in a tee-junction and he swore out loud when he realized he had no idea which way Sheldon had gone and their chances of catching up with him were slim to none at this point. He had too much of a head start.

"Shit!" he slammed his fist on the Impala's front dash in anger and frustration as Sam shrugged and arbitrarily chose left.

Tasha leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of the seat. "Don't worry, babe," she soothed. "We'll find him sooner or later. He's gotta have family and friends; we'll figure out where he'd hide out."

Dean made a sound that could best be described as a growl. "You don't understand," he grated through gritted teeth. "We need to find him now."

"We've got his stash, Dean," Sam reminded his brother. "This stuff's hard to get; he won't be getting any more tonight. We've got time."

"You didn't see his face," Dean shook his head. "He's got some more." He turned to face Tasha. "And he plans on using it."

"How do you know?" Sam demanded, not having seen Dean's pointed look.

Dean smashed his fist into the dash again and the glove compartment sprang open. In his temper, he slammed it back shut violently and swore, his hands balled into fists and wishing there was something else to hit. "He's got Tasha's glass!" he yelled, not turning around.

"What?" Sam demanded hoarsely, fear gripping him as he glanced back at Tasha. Her eyes widened in alarm but she quickly covered it up.

Dean exhaled heavily. "That arrogant bastard practically waved it in my face," he spat. "We need to find him Sam," he said urgently. His brother responded by giving the Impala's accelerator pedal a firm push. Dean finally turned back around to look at the girl in the back. "I'm sorry," he said simply, placing his hand over hers where it rested on the top of the seatback between them. "We'll find him, I promise."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Tasha appeased. "I'm not worried. I just won't go to sleep. It's not like I've never pulled an all nighter before. I can go for days. We've got some time."

Dean's temper flared again as his eyes went back to roving the dark streets around them in search of the blue car. "Why does this feel so goddamn familiar?" he griped, remembering the two days he spent guzzling coffee and Red Bulls when Jeremy had lifted his DNA from a beer bottle. He tried not to think about the fact that they had never actually found Jeremy. The had to find Sheldon.

"Yeah, about that," Tasha ventured, not having been filled in on the whole story yet, "Exactly what happened?"

"I eventually had to go to sleep and Sam took the dreamroot to pop into my dream and ended up smashing Jeremy's head in with a baseball bat," Dean explained simply.

"In your dream?" She sounded more curious than scared.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "If you die in a dream, whether you're the walker or the sleeper, you die in real life."

She gave him a thoughtful look. "So we can just do that again," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Beats killing him in person and having homicide cops all over it. This could actually work in our favor."

"No way!" Dean said sternly.

"Why not?"

Sam answered the question. "Dreamwalking's a skill," he explained. "I was lucky, I caught Jeremy off guard. Truth is, the more you do it, the better you get. This guy could have been doing it for months. He's pretty much a god in there."

"Better at what?" Tasha pressed. "Better like how?"

"He controls the dream," Sam elaborated. "He can actually fish around in the sleeper's head and dig out their memories and fears and manipulate the dream to take advantage of those things."

"And you did that in Dean's dream?" she asked, sounding almost amused.

Sam shook his head, taking a sharp right turn in hopes of finding the Toyota on a busier street. "No, I just used what I'd seen in the background info we dug up on Jeremy to make his father appear, but I didn't get into Dean's head. I didn't know how."

Dean swallowed, remembering what he had seen in that very same dream; himself with black eyes. Dean Winchester the demon.

What he would become.

"Ashley said the girls were all having really, really bad nightmares before Sheldon showed up in them and…..did what he did," Tasha said. "But the nightmares were different for each girl. You think he did that too?"

"Sick fuck was playing with them," Dean snarled.

Tasha sighed. "Well, like I said, we've got two or three days to find him and I doubt it'll take that long. The bartender tonight sounded like he didn't care much for Sheldon – warned me not to get too friendly with him. I'm sure he'll give him up if we lose the Toyota."

"Uh, I think we already lost the Toyota," Sam announced, taking another random turn. "I have no idea which way to go."

They drove aimlessly for a couple of minutes in silence, both brothers searching intently for any sign of the blue car. Tasha suddenly spoke up from the back seat, her voice sounding soft and nervous.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel weird."

"What?" Dean spun around to look at her for a second before his eyes widened as the impact of her words hit him. "What do you mean, weird?" he demanded.

She pushed herself forward in the seat again and Dean noticed she swayed slightly.

"I feel groggy all of a sudden," she admitted apologetically. "I only had one drink – I shouldn't feel this strange."

Dean swore loudly, reaching back over the seat and gripping her shoulder tightly. "Did he drug you?" His mind was reeling with how Sheldon could have possibly slipped something into Tasha's drink. If he had been there and had seen the hunters when they first came in, it was conceivable. He had access to the waitress station behind the bar.

Tasha's eyes were shifting in and out of focus as he watched, his hand still wrapped up in her jacket sleeve. He shook her gently, as much with fear and anger as an attempt to wake her up. She was clearly already trying to fight the effects of whatever she had been given and the struggle to remain alert was being played out on her face. "Stay awake!" Dean barked, waiting for her nod of acknowledgement before turning to look at Sam.

"Dude, you got the dreamroot on you?"

Sam shook his head. "I left it on the table at the motel," he groaned.

"Get back there, now!" Dean ordered sharply. He pushed himself up and crammed his large frame over the bench seat into the back with Tasha, a feat made more difficult with the swerving of the car as Sam pulled a sharp u-turn.

"What are you gonna do?" Tasha asked, her voice slurring and her eyes starting to show fleeting hints of fear through the fogginess.

"The jerk kinda forced our hand," Dean told her, trying to keep his voice calm. "If you go under, I'm coming in too. Don't worry, I won't let him touch you." He placed an open palm on either side of her face and forced her to look at him, tapping her cheek gently when her eyes began to drift closed.

"Stay awake, baby," he pleaded. "You have to stay awake."

"Okay," she whispered, gripping his sleeves in an effort to hold herself upright.

"Faster, Sam!" Dean didn't turn to look at his brother as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask of holy water. He unscrewed the top and poured it over her face. She sputtered and coughed but her eyes seemed to spring back open as she clung to him. He twisted around and quickly rolled down the window, letting a blast of the cool night air hit her wet face.

"Is there something we can give her?" he practically begged Sam, knowing if anyone knew of an antidote, it would be his genius of a brother.

Sam had been keeping silent but fear and worry had a solid grip on his insides too. He shook his head. "We have no idea what drug he used," he answered, pressing the accelerator pedal down farther as they reached the highway that would take them back to the motel.

"You need to stay awake!" Dean repeated to the girl who was starting to slump in his arms. "Tasha?….Tash?…Tash!"

Her eyes fell closed and her head dropped forward onto his chest. "No, no, no, Tasha," he pleaded, yanking her head up roughly by the hair and prying one of her eyelids open. "Wake up baby, please, stay with me!" he begged, his voice growing hoarse with near panic.

"Oh shit, Sammy," he breathed. "She's out!"

"It's okay," Sam tried to keep his own voice calm. He wasn't used to seeing Dean this close to panic. "We're not that far from the motel."

"You don't understand," Dean rasped, fear putting a sharp edge in his words. "We can't let him do that to her. We can't!" He looked up and caught Sam's worried eyes in the rear view. "Foster dad number six," he blurted, his voice faltering. "He tried…" He let the sentence trail off.

"I get it," Sam assured him. He'd had his suspicions about foster home number six, the only one that Tasha had never mentioned in any of her numerous 'rebellious teenager' stories. He was only mildly surprised she'd apparently told Dean.

Casual fling, my ass, he thought before he searched out Dean's frantic face in the mirror again. "Sheldon's not gonna touch her, okay?" the younger Winchester said confidently. And he meant it. He'd die before he let that bastard touch another innocent girl, especially Tasha. So would Dean.

He saw Dean nod and pull the sleeping girl closer to him, still shaking her to try and wake her up. "Hang in there, I'm coming," he heard Dean whisper to her limp form. Whatever drug Sheldon had used, it was a strong one. He thought briefly that maybe they'd be okay because surely she wouldn't dream in drug-induced unconsciousness but quickly realized Sheldon would have thought of that. The guy had been doing this so long he could probably create dreams and not just pop into existing ones. All he would need was a lapse in consciousness.

Jesus, how were they going to take him out? Jeremy Frost had been strong and Sam knew he had been mostly lucky. He remembered Bobby asking him afterwards if he'd been able to control the dream for a spell because of his psychic mumbo. He'd said no but in truth, he had no idea. He suspected so but refused to admit that fact since both Bobby and Dean gave him a certain look, a look of wariness and fear, whenever his psychic abilities were mentioned.

He drove the rest of the way in silence, concentrating on the road since the Impala was going well over the speed limit. He skidded to a halt in front of room number twelve and jumped out, running to the motel door to unlock it and get the dreamroot cocktail started.

Dean followed closely behind, carrying Tasha in his arms. He laid her gently on the closest bed and turned to Sam, who was already carrying a glass of tap water over to the table.

Dean nodded in approval. Fuck the tea, boiling the water took way too much time. They could just crumble the stuff in cold water. It should work the same way.

Sam started to slice pieces off the chunk of root into the glass with his knife. Dean moved in and wrapped his fingers around the glass in anticipation.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam paused.

"What?" Dean said curtly, nodding at his brother to keep going. He'd need to ingest more dreamroot than the few scrapes Sam had in the glass.

"I should go in," Sam managed.

"Two against one," Dean nodded. "That sounds good."

"No," the younger Winchester corrected. "Just me."

Dean looked up sharply. "What? No freakin' way Sam! Keep slicing!"

"Dean, listen to me," Sam had actually thought this through. "I managed to take control of your dream from Jeremy, remember?"

"Which is exactly what I plan on doing to this prick!" Dean snapped. "Right before I beat him to a pulp and rip his head off."

"No, you don't understand," Sam persisted. "I did that last time but…but I'm not so sure you can."

"Why not?"

Sam swallowed but Tasha didn't have time for him to beat around the bush. "I'm pretty sure it was because of my psychic thing," he admitted. He hated that he was saying it out loud but one glance at the sleeping girl on the bed had instantly removed any thoughts of keeping the secret.

Dean gave him a hard stare but eventually shook his head. "No," he said simply. "I'm going in," he said firmly. "I promised her." He turned around and Sam saw his breath hitch when his eyes fell on Tasha. "I have to," he rasped. "I can't let anything happen to her."

Sam had resumed scraping the root into the glass and he took a deep breath. "Look, Dean, I get it," he assured him without looking up. "I care about her too." He shuddered at how true that statement was. "But if I can't get control of the dream away from Sheldon, then I'm gonna need you to do him in from this side of the veil."

Dean gave his brother a confused look.

"Look, we both know I have a better chance on the inside," Sam continued. "You need to find Sheldon in real life and end this." He threw a pointed look at Tasha. "For her sake, let's not put all our eggs in one basket. This gives us two chances at beating him."

He watched Dean's face as he struggled with the decision. Finally, the elder Winchester nodded slowly in reluctant acceptance. Sam knew how hard it was for Dean to give up control and let someone else take the risk, especially Sam. He knew how much Tasha meant to Dean and for him to trust Sam with her safety and possibly her life just went to show how far they had come since that day almost three years ago when two practical strangers had reunited to find their Dad. Dean would never have put something he valued so much in anyone else's hands but Sam's, and Sam knew it. And that was just one more reason he was determined to save the girl they both cared about.

"You save her, you hear me?" Dean said throatily, taking his hand off the glass. He made his way over to the bed and brushed her hair out of her eyes, planting a kiss on her forehead as he yanked out a hair from her head and handed it to Sam, who was sitting himself on the edge of the adjacent bed, glass in hand.

"You hang in there, Tash," he whispered, leaning back down over her still face. "Sammy's coming to get ya."

He turned to look at his younger brother and gave him a nod that said everything he couldn't put into words.

Be careful, Sammy.

Save the girl I love.

Take care of yourself.

Thank-you.

Sam downed the glass and fell back on the empty bed. Dean stared at the two of them for a few seconds before grabbing the keys and leaving the room.

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A:N: Hoorah! I got that out faster than I expected - thanks to all of you who read and alerted and reviewed - you inspire me so :) Hope you liked this chapter and hope you'll tune in for the next!