CHAPTER 10

Sam found himself standing in a grassy field on a warm night, a thousand stars gleaming overhead in the cloudless sky. Trying to determine what the dream was about, he spun around to find the Impala resting peacefully in the grass behind him. He heard a gasp and moved around to the front to see Dean and Tasha lying on the spacious hood. Tasha had just woken up with a start, no doubt from the nightmare she and Sam had just left, and Dean was asking her if she was alright. They were both resting back against the Impala's front windshield, Tasha snuggled into the crook of Dean's arm, and Sam took another look around the field, recognition dawning on him.

This was the field they had stopped at about two weeks ago. They had been making their way across the country to a new hunt and Sam had been surprised when Dean had pulled over suddenly, claiming they needed a break from driving. He had coasted into a desolate field, popped the lids off three beers, and seated himself of the hood. It wasn't an unheard of thing for Dean to do, but it had only ever been done when he and Sam were alone. They had spent many nights sitting quietly under the stars near some nameless stretch of road, enjoying each other's silence.

Sam's first reaction that night had been surprise, followed quickly by an irrational feeling of intrusion for the brunette's presence. That sentiment had only been fleeting, however, and sitting there in the starlight with both Tasha and Dean had soon felt strangely natural. He had been comfortable and at peace for the four hours they lay there in virtual silence. Tasha had not questioned their reason for stopping and Sam had come to the realization that maybe there were other people out there that could truly understand the Winchester brothers; maybe they weren't so alone and cut-off and different from the rest of the world after all.

The dream version of that night was slightly different than he remembered. Tasha had not woken up two weeks ago and Sam had been lying on the hood also, the slim girl sleeping soundly between the brothers well into the peaceful night. Right now she was quietly assuring the elder Winchester that she was fine and that it had just been a bad dream. Sam watched as Dean kissed her head and pulled her in a little closer before settling himself back on his classic baby's windshield.

Sam looked around for Sheldon. If he could find him now, he could concentrate on taking him out knowing Tasha was safe in Dean's hands.

He didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the field. There were a few cows asleep across the fence at the far end and the silhouette of the occasional bat zipped past the bright sphere of the moon above them. He concentrated on the large deciduous tree to the right, figuring if Sheldon was nearby, he had to be hiding in the dark shadows of the tree.

He took a step towards it when he heard the commotion from the car behind him. He turned just in time to see Sheldon's arm swinging downward, the knife in his grasp sinking deep into his brother's chest.

"DEAN!" he cried in horrified reaction. His logic followed a few heartbeats behind, telling him that was dreamDean and that his real brother was fine, but those few heartbeats were wrought with panic and fear. Tasha had let out a startled cry of surprise and shock before drawing her own knife and slashing at Sheldon over Dean's gasping form.

Sam raced over towards the car but Sheldon vanished before Tasha's knife could make contact. She only looked around frantically for a brief second before her attention returned to Dean, who was clutching at the bleeding wound in his chest and making sickening gargling sounds, his eyes unfocused and heavy.

"No, no, Dean, no," she pleaded, pressing her hands over the wound. She was sitting up on the Impala's hood and Sam could honestly feel the pain in her voice as she pleaded with Dean to stay alive. "Oh God, stay with me Dean, please, hold on okay?"

Sam came to a skidding halt next to the car in the exact spot Sheldon had been standing. He tried to get a bead on the other dreamwalker with his mind but couldn't sense anything and had no idea how to find him. He tried to avoid looking down at his brother but simply couldn't help himself. He was greeted with the sight of the life leaving Dean's green eyes and his head lolling sideways onto Tasha's thigh.

"No, pleeeease!" Tasha wailed in anguish, pulling the dead hunter's head into her lap. Tears were streaming down her face and she didn't seem to even notice Sam was there. "Dean, no no, not you too, please don't die on me!" Her body was heaving with desperate sobs and she lowered her face down to touch her forehead to Dean's lifeless one, the elder Winchester still sprawled unmoving on the Impala's hood. "Please," her voice broke into a whisper. "Everybody dies. Everybody's dead. Not you too, please."

Sam swallowed, a hard lump forming in his throat. He was about to reach into her head and change the dream again to save her from her suffering but decided against it. In their last encounter with dreamroot, Dean had managed to convince Bobby that he was dreaming and Bobby had taken control of his own dream. If he could convince Tasha, maybe she could help him get the better of Sheldon. It was clear by now that Sheldon was the more skilled dreamwalker and Sam needed all the help he could get. Because of the drug, he knew she wouldn't be able to wake herself up but each dream seemed to be getting progressively worse so there was no point in continuing to hop into new ones.

"Tasha," he said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder to get her attention. "Tasha!"

She looked up and Sam saw the second bout of sorrow that hit her when she recognized him. This new wave of pain was directed at him, for him, because, as far as she knew, Sam had just seen his brother bleeding out before his eyes.

"Tasha, this isn't real," he said, his voice hitching at the depths of pain in her eyes. God how it twisted and ripped at his heart to see her like that. It was deeply disturbing for him to be standing this close to his brother's dead body, especially considering he had been spending the last eleven months dreading this very thing, but to her this was real. The extent of her feelings for the elder Winchester was excruciatingly clear in this moment. Dream or not, her anguish was very real and the raw emotion on her face was tearing Sam up inside.

"I'm sorry Sam," she croaked, her eyes filled with pain and pity. She clearly thought Sam was in denial. "I don't know what happened. There was this…this guy and…and…" she choked up and stopped talking, still cradling Dean's lifeless head in her blood-covered hands, her body once again wracked with heaving sobs.

"No Tasha," Sam pressed, cupping her face in both his hands and catching a falling tear with a gentle stroke of his thumb across her cheek. "Remember dreamroot? The case we're working on? This is just a dream. Your dream."

She didn't look convinced but Sam saw a tiny glimmer of hope brighten her pretty features.

"You're dreaming," he repeated more urgently. "And that," he gestured downwards without actually letting his eyes fall on the horrifying sight. "That isn't really Dean. He's fine. He's alive."

"Dean's not dead?" she whispered, her focus finally shifting from the dead Winchester to the live one standing next to where she sat on the black metal surface that was now slick with Dean's blood.

"No, no, he's not," Sam nodded, holding her face up so she had to lock eyes with him for a moment. "But Tasha, this is your dream and I need your help."

She nodded meekly, still looking uncertain.

"I need you to try and take control of it, okay? Remember Sheldon Weike? Well he's in here somewhere and he's gonna try turn this into a nightmare."

Tasha glanced down at Dean. "I think he already succeeded," she said with an impressive amount of sarcasm, the barest hint of a smile forming at the edges of her mouth.

Sam managed a smile. Good, this was the Tasha he needed. People in dreams often didn't act like the real versions of themselves did so he was heartened to see what resembled the Tasha he knew looking at him now. She had proven herself to be quick on her feet and able to handle hairy situations without panicking on several occasions over the past two months; Sam had truly been impressed with both her bravery and her fighting ability. She couldn't fight as well as Ruby and her demon strength, he admitted grudgingly, but she could certainly hold her own. In fact, the first night they'd met her, she had come very close to slicing Dean's neck open with that blood-coated knife of hers.

"Yeah, you're right there," he agreed with a chuckle.

"Okay, now I'm just confused," came a deep voice from behind Sam and he spun sharply to find Sheldon standing there.

"Is she with you or is she with the dead guy?" the dreamwalker continued in a mocking tone.

"My brother's not dead," Sam fired back. "In fact, he's about to waste your real self any minute now so you might want to just wake yourself up."

Sheldon didn't look worried. In fact, he casually strolled up to the rear door of the car on the driver's side, not five feet from where Sam was standing, and leaned over to peer inside the Chevy. When he looked back over to Sam, he was laughing again.

"Well, now I get it," he taunted, grinning viciously.

Sam didn't need to look inside the car to know what Sheldon had seen. The car was rocking, actually rocking, and he could hear his own grunts and groans of pleasure intermingled with his brother's, both almost drowned out by the screams of ecstasy he recognized as those Tasha had gifted the brothers with last night when they had double-teamed her in the back seat.

He glanced behind him to find the Impala's hood empty and realized he was now standing on the edge of the road and not in a grassy field. Damn, that had been a smooth transition – this guy was good.

"So you brothers share everything, huh?" Sheldon snickered. "Keep it in the family."

"That's not how it is." For the first time since the incident, Sam felt dirty and ashamed and felt like he had to defend the three of them, even if it was to this lowlife who would soon be dead. This wasn't some sick, twisted love triangle; it was his brother and the woman his brother loved. There was honor and respect and friendship all round. There was nothing wrong with what they had done, with what he had done. Was there?

Sheldon glanced back in the window, a clear patch in the fogged glass appearing for him like magic. "I can assure you, you won't be partaking in the festivities tonight," he said, a sharp edge in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at Sam. "But,' he added, grinning again as Tasha's screams rose in pitch such that it was obvious she was having one hell of an orgasm. "I am in for a fucking good time. She's a screamer." He licked his lips and threw another hungry look into the car. "I just love a screamer."

He looked back to Sam who had just conjured up a baseball bat and was swinging it as hard as he could at Sheldon's head. Sheldon Star-Trek'd backwards, just out of reach, and retaliated with a flick of his wrist that sent a blast of force at Sam, hurdling him twenty feet backwards onto the hard asphalt.

"Just call me Neo," he jeered as the hunter rolled out of the way of an oncoming vehicle that had just suddenly appeared hammering towards him. "Now, let's get this party started."

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Dean pulled into the quiet, back staff parking lot of the bar. He knew there was no way he wouldn't be recognized if he went in the front door as he had caused quite the ruckus not that long ago. He waited quietly for a couple of minutes and was quickly rewarded for his uncharacteristic patience. The young, red-headed dishwasher came outside, closing the door behind him and lighting up a cigarette. Dean seized the opportunity.

"Hey there," he greeted the kid amicably.

"Hey," the kid mumbled, returning the greeting with a lot less vigor.

"Listen," Dean decided to get right to the point. "You know Sheldon Weike?"

The redhead snorted. "Fucker showed up then left before his shift started," he griped. "Now I'm stuck doin' a double."

"Yeah, guy's an asshole," Dean agreed. "Listen, I really need to find him. He's not at home – you got any idea where he could be?"

"No fucking clue," the kid shrugged. Clearly he wasn't in the greatest of moods and Dean decided to move on to the real reason he came here.

"Say, you wouldn't do me a favor, would ya?" he said hopefully.

"What's that?"

"I need to speak to the bartender, the guy with the curly hair. Any chance you could go ask him to come out here for a sec?"

"Why don't you go get him yourself?"

"I'd rather not," Dean answered evasively. "Come on man, it's important." You have no fucking clue just how important, he thought.

The kid stuck his hand out, palm up. "Nothing in life is free, man," he shrugged.

Dean cursed under his breath but pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty in the greedy fingers. They beckoned for more and he gritted his teeth as he handed over another twenty. "You better get him out here," he warned in a no-nonsense tone.

The kid butted out and pocketed his cash as he stepped back inside. Dean's forty bucks proved to be money well-spent for less than two minutes later, the friendly bartender who had warned Tasha not to get too close to Sheldon appeared in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

"Hey, you're the guy who went crazy earlier," he grinned, clearly recognizing Dean.

"Yeah, 'fraid so. Look, do you remember a girl who asked you about Sheldon Weike earlier?"

The guy's forehead creased slightly in thought. "Good lookin' brunette in a white top?"

Dean nodded. "That's the one. See, she's gone off with Sheldon somewhere and I really need to find him. And her."

The bartender winced. "Dude, Sheldon is seriously creepy. I told her to stay away from him. But whatever issues you and your woman are having," he raised his hands, "That's none of my business, bro."

"She's my sister," Dean lied quickly. "And she's drunk – really, really drunk. And I just want to make sure she gets home safely. Please. He's not at home and somebody told me Sheldon sometimes stays at the school. I just need to know where."

The guy gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Know what," he said finally. 'I sure as hell wouldn't want my sister drunk and alone with that headcase. He's probably taken her to the Psyche Ward lounge."

"The psyche ward? A mental hospital?"

"No man," the guy grinned. "The Philosophy and Psychiatry departments have their own wing in the Greenwood Building on campus. There's a lounge in the basement that's supposed to be for the profs and the TA's but I know Sheldon's got a key and he hangs out there a lot. There'll be nobody there this late so he just might try to sneak a drunk girl in there."

"Thanks dude," Dean gushed, giving the guy an appreciative slap on the arm. "Thank-you." He turned away and headed quickly towards his car.

'Just hang in there you two,' he said under his breath to both Sam and Tasha. 'I've almost got him.'

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Sam felt the dream changing again only this time, something was trying to keep him out of the new surroundings. He felt a force, for lack of a better explanation, pushing him roughly towards something he could only describe as awakeness. He felt the dream world slipping away from him and, with a desperate lunge, reached out and grabbed on to it for all he was worth. It seemed to work because he found himself in a cozy living room, daylight streaming in through the open curtains.

He looked up to see Sheldon standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a furious look on his face. "You're really starting to piss me off!"

"I'm just getting started," Sam bluffed, not sure if he even stood a chance of beating this guy. He glanced around, his eyes searching for Tasha and wondering what this nightmare had in store for the undeserving, tortured girl.

Sheldon must have noticed his search for he let out a snort. "She's upstairs in her room," he offered. "I decided to give her a familiar setting for the best sex she's ever gonna have."

"You think raping innocent girls makes you a man!" Sam's voice rose in pitch as his wealth of anger was released at the callous comment. "It just makes you a sick, twisted freak! It's pathetic! Why don't you prove you're a man by taking on somebody your own size on a level playing field?" His hands were clenched into fists of rage. "Me and you, right here, right now! We can leave Tasha out of this!"

"You're such a boor," Sheldon wrinkled his nose in unimpressed disgust. "You actually think you're my equal in here?" He waved his arms around the room. "Do you even recognize this place?"

Sam's look must have betrayed his answer in the negative.

"I didn't think so," Sheldon continued. "You can't even see in her head. I bet all you get is a mass of swirling emotions. Have you just been grabbing at them wildly?" He laughed with icy calm. "Now who's pathetic? Let me enlighten you. This," he gestured around the room again, "Is foster home number six."

Sam's heart skipped a beat in recognition of two things. Firstly, that this was the abusive foster home Tasha never talked about. The sick bastard had brought her here of all places to rape her. Secondly, that Sheldon knew all of this. That when he entered Tasha's head, he could see exactly what memory he was pulling out, including details, and would therefore know a lot more about both Tasha and the dream than Sam did, putting the hunter at a serious disadvantage.

Two cops were suddenly standing in the foyer and a man was being carried outside on a stretcher by paramedics. The policemen watched as the injured man passed them and carried on their loud conversation as if Sam and Sheldon weren't there. It was loud enough that anyone upstairs could definitley hear it.

"The girl claims he tried to rape her. As if! Jim, try to rape one of his foster kids? No way! Can you believe that? He's a cop, for crying out loud! No cop in our precinct rapes little girls, that much I do know. Who does she think she is?"

"What do you expect? Have you seen her record? Appeared out of nowhere a year and a half ago – no ID, nothing – carrying a knife covered in human blood."

"Yeah, I saw it. She's not even sixteen and she's been busted seven times carrying a concealed weapon. Why do you think none of the foster homes'll keep her?"

"Well, poor Jim shoulda sent her packing too. If he wasn't such a nice guy, he wouldn't have a four inch blade sticking out of his gut right now."

As fascinated as Sam was with the insight into Tasha's childhood, the implications of what Sheldon was showing him had nothing to do with the brunette upstairs. The guy was showing off. That he could see this much detail from his foray into Tasha's head just emphasized how outmatched the hunter was.

"See how much fun this can be when you get the whole story?" Sheldon gloated. "A little push here or a little tweak there and I can manipulate any memory into someone's worst nightmare. But if you can't make any sense of what's in the dreamer's head," he scolded, wagging a finger at Sam, "Then you don't know what to expect."

A large shape suddenly appeared to Sam's right and he barely caught sight of it in his peripheral with enough time to duck the savage blow it aimed at his head. He retreated backwards a few steps to assess the situation before deciding on his next move and saw that it was one of the Rawheads that he, Dean, and Tasha had encountered last month in North Dakota.

He jumped back again to avoid the beast's next swing. Sheldon threw him a wave and started up the stairs. Towards Tasha, Sam realized. "If the room's a rockin, don't come knockin!" the student jeered as he reached the top and headed down the hallway towards her room.

Sam spun to face the Rawhead, realizing that Sheldon must have pulled it from Tasha's memory. This meant that, as in North Dakota, there was a good chance he was going to get surprised by the sudden appearance of a second Rawhead. He had suffered bruised ribs and a nasty concussion from these two monsters when he had faced them in real life and was damned of he was going to go through that again.

A slow smile spread across Sam's face as he realized Sheldon's own arrogance and need to brag was actually going to help the hunter out of this situation. Knowing there were two ahead of time, he wasn't going to get caught off guard again. He envisioned a Taser in his right hand and fired at the first Rawhead. It was still convulsing with an enraged roar when the second one appeared, which he calmly shot with the second Taser gun he created from thin air in his left hand.

He looked down at the two bodies with a satisfied smirk as he stepped over them, thinking to himself how good he was getting at this. He had almost reached the stairs when a third Rawhead grabbed him from behind and threw him across the room.

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed – I love it when you let me know how I'm doing (good or bad, just be nice *lol*) so please leave a review. Just a chapter or two left in Part 1 of this story but I do plan to continue it with Part 2 (a shorter part that takes place while Dean is in Hell) and Part 3 (after Dean gets out) if there is enough interest and you guys want to see it continue.