Warmth
She's burning again.
She's always burning.
Trapped, pinned to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream as the flames spread out behind her in an explosion of brilliant orange and yellow; like a pair of fiery wings unfurling themselves from the body of a phoenix. Then the wings transform into the fiery claws of the demon, and she's burning and bleeding and staring down at him with surprise and pain in her green eyes. Choking on smoke now, all she can do is gasp and wheeze in an attempt to call for help.
Sam can't get to her, though; he never can. His body is pinned to the bed just as poor Jessica is stuck to the ceiling and he's forced to watch, for the hundredth time, as the flames eat away at her body.
A choked plea, "S-S-S-am..." pushes it's way through cracked lips and he snaps his eyes open – because he had closed them once her flesh had begun to peel – to see the disappointment, the why, reflected in her eyes.
"No!"
"H-help... me... S-Sam..."
And he tries, swear to God he tries; but he's stuck too, and can't do anything more than lift his head just barely off of the blanket. The scent of burnt flesh fills his nose and he screams this time, cries, tries in vain to just raise his fucking arm to reach out to her, to just touch her!
"Jess!" Writhing, rolling, he cries, bucks desperately, but the iron grip on him doesn't falter, and once again Jessica is screaming as the fire crawls along her skin.
Sam!
A loud banging suddenly issues itself from the bedroom door and for a moment he thinks he can hear his brother's voice, high and frightened, yelling for him.
Sammy!
"Dean!"
"Help me, Sam!"
His eyes instantly flicker back to Jess. When he sees how much of her hair and skin has been eaten away, something inside him snaps.
Sam, tears streaming down his cheeks, gives one final cry, one more attempt to raise himself from the mattress. But the fire lashes outward, over Jess's thin frame.
He doesn't even have the time to call out to her before the fire consumes everything and, once again, she's gone.
www
"Sam! Sammy – Hey! Look at me bro, you're okay; it was just a dream."
"Dean...?"
Sam says breathlessly, voice shuddering as he tries to get himself under control. He's laying on his bed, blankets twisted around his legs after being no doubt kicked around for a few hours during his sleep. His voice isn't the only thing shaking, the rest of him is too – well, trembling is more like it; miniature earthquakes trailing up and down his limbs. It's also hot, which is probably why his sweat-drenched clothes are sticking to him like a second skin, constricting his movements along with the wool snake that's wrapped itself around his legs.
"Sam?"
Dean's voice is low, worried, and Sam knows that if he opens his eyes he'll see his brother looking at him questioningly. He can't open them, though, not yet, because if he does he's positive that Jess will be there, gazing at him accusingly with fire-bright irises and blackened skin.
The memory of his nightmare is too much and Sam makes a choked noise in his throat and draws an arm across his eyes while trying to hide his tears.
Why did she have to die? Why couldn't I save her?
Something shifts beside him and Dean speaks again, voice still low, but this time comforting and there's no doubt in Sam's mind that his big brother can see that he's practically bawling like a baby.
"Hey, Sammy, it's okay. Was just a dream, dude, it's alright." Then a hand, rubbing smooth, gentle circles along his back.
No, Sam thinks, body quaking as he sobs into the mattress.
It's not alright at all.