Chapter 4

Final Chapter! Sorry if it looks weird (indent wise) something went wrong when I copied and pasted it over. Thanks!

Sam slept on the couch that night. He knew he had done Dr. Winsor wrong, but he was so afraid, so angry to even think about that war. He lay on the uncomfortable couch in silence with a thin blanket and a lumpy pillow until the voice of Dr. Winsor echoed in his mind.

"Just make yourself have a dream… and meet your fears."

Sam knew all along that the memories he had been keeping to himself were the reason the nightmares started in the first place, but he was too afraid, too ashamed to admit it. The war had scared him, and it showed him how twisted and cruel people could be. The sounds of heavy machinery, gunshots, and the screams and cries of dying men still pounding his is head every minute he was awake. It only made since they would haunt him in his dreams.

Sam turned over and pulled the blanket to his chin. He was ready to end this, all of this. He closed his eyes and willed himself to dream as he shouted in his mind, "Show yourself! Come on! Show yourself. Let me see you for what you are, what we are! I'm done with this! Come on, show yourself. I'm tired of this, let's finish this game you've been playing with me!"

Sam fell asleep with the yells bouncing in his head until the dark faded into light and all he could see was the forest and the shadow figure. The black figure stood tall and sharp against the moon behind him in the sky. The air was still, and no crickets chirped. The world was silent, like it was waiting for Sam to make his move.

Sam grinned and laughed coldly. "Show your face. I want to see it."

The blackness that enveloped the figure disappeared and before Sam stood a man that was all too familiar, wearing a slender black suit and tie. His hair was dark and neat, and his face was angular with sharp features which were covered in faded freckles. Sam's heart dropped at the sight.

"Dean?"

His brother stood before him. "This is impossible," thought Sam. He looked just like he always had. The crooked smile, the powerful stature. It was odd to see him in a suit but that wasn't what caught Sam's attention, it was his eyes. His eyes didn't have any irises or pupils. They were completely black.

"Heyya, Sammy," said Dean. "I am your memories."

Sam snapped, "What the hell do you want from me?"

Dean smiled the coldest grin Sam had ever seen and laughed. "I don't want anything from you, Sam."

"What do you mean?" demanded Sam.

"I don't want anything from you specifically. I want to show you something very important. In fact, it's the reason why I am here, why I've always been here."

With eyebrows knitted together in thought, Sam asked, "Here?"

Dean smiled again. "Yes, here. In your mind, Sam. In your dreams and your nightmares."

"What do you want to show me, then?"

Dean snickered loudly and stepped forward. "Your past."

The world went black. Sam felt weightless like he was floating below the surface of water. He couldn't breath no matter how hard he tried to fill his burning lungs. All of a sudden, the blackness disappeared, and then, Sam was standing in an abandoned desert town. The houses were crudely built with burning roofs and shattered windows. The dirt streets were littered with chunks of splintered wood and shards of glass, and the hot sun beat down on his shoulders.

Further down the road, a man in tattered rags came around a corner holding a shotgun. His skin was dark, and his eyes were hollow. From behind, Sam heard a man yell "Ready?!" He turned around, and he saw he was leading about ten men with US flags stitched onto camouflage uniforms. Sam looked down and noticed he wore the same outfit and in his hands was a gun. The man at the end of the street stopped and stared at the troops, and he looked extremely angry even though it looked like he could pass out at any moment. He began to yell in an unknown language as he raised his gun and aimed it at the troops.

"Stop!" yelled Sam as he rushed forward, forgetting the gun in his hands.

The man began to fire. The sound of gun shots filled the air along with hot bullets, most of which found their targets, and men dropped to the ground. Sam lifted his gun and shot a single shot that found its place with the man at the end of the street. The man stumbled backwards and fell into the dirt. Sam put down his gun and turned to see only five other men standing with their guns still by their sides, completely caught off guard. The other five men lay in the dust with dark crimson blood flowing from their wounds. In the midst of the crumbled corpses laid Sam's brother lay silent, his eyes still open but unseeing.

"Dean!" shouted Sam as he dropped his gun and himself into the dirt. He crawled to the body, and he shook his shoulders, begging him to wake. Tears streamed down Sam's cheek as he wept and sobbed into the bloody fabric of his fallen brother's shirt.

The scene faded away, and Sam was standing in the forest with the man in the slender suit. A warm tear rolled down Sam's face.

"Why did you show me that?" he asked. "What the hell did you show me that?!"

Dean smiled again, and he adjusted his black tie as he took another step towards Sam. "You needed to see."

Sam took a step back. "See what?"

Dean chuckled. "What you have done and seen."

Sam shot forward and stood nose-to-nose with Dean. "Listen to me. I know what I've seen. I see them everyday!"

Dean grinned, flashing his teeth. His solid black eyes stared intently into Sam's. "What do you see, Sam?"

"No!" shouted Sam. He didn't want to admit what he remembered. The memories terrified him. They broke him. They scared him. He didn't want anyone to pity him because of what happened to him. He could take care of himself.

"What do you see?"

Sam shook his head with tears brimming in his eyes.

"Sam, what do you see?" asked Dean. "What?!"

"I see them!" exploded Sam before he broke down in sobs. He crumbled and fell onto his hands and knees in front of Dean. As he clawed the earth, warm tears fell heavily from his eyes and dripped down his face and onto the ground. "I see you," said Sam with a cracking, broken voice between sobs. "The bodies, so much blood. Everyone I knew is dead! All of them… all of them."

Dean kneeled down so he could look into Sam's eyes. "Who's dead, Sam?"

Between gulps for air, Sam answered quietly, "My friends…My brother... They all died, shot, bombed."

"You saw so many die, didn't you? Twenty you knew personally. Four of them, close friends, right? Your brother?!"

"Shut up!" cried Sam.

"Every single person you knew, you saw die. You didn't hear about it from someone else. You were always there pushing on wounds or removing rubble. Always! You let me die!"

"I said shut up!" screamed Sam.

Dean paused for a long time listening to Sam's sobs before he answered. "You don't let anyone in, do you? Not even Jess. She or anyone else, for that matter, knows what happened to you. Only you, and keeping it in is killing you. Not physically but mentally. You're dying on the inside, Sam, and soon nothing will be left but the pain and the sorrow and all that blood. All that guilt. You think you can handle this all on your own, but you can't! You are so weak and petty. You're scared of people pitying you, but who will want to. You aren't worth the saving. You're dead inside, Sam. You. Are. Dead!"

Sam woke up with a start and quickly sat up. He was covered in a cold sweat, and tears streamed down his face. He lifted his hands up to wipe the tears away, but his hands were shaking violently. His whole body shook, as a matter fact. Sam pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs as he put his head between his knees.

"Jess," Sam called quietly between silent sobs. He cleared his throat and called a little louder, "Jess. Jess! Please."

Almost immediately, Jess came sprinting down the stairs and over to the couch. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her hair was a matted mess on top of her head.

"Sam," said Jess quietly. "Sam, are you okay? You've been screaming for hours." She let out a sob as she sat down and unfolded his arms from around his legs. He looked up at her, and she noticed that his eyes were sunken in and had dark circles. His eyes were red, and his cheeks stained with tears. She gently wiped away the fallen tears. "Sweety? Sam?"

He cried out and jumped into her arms, and he buried his head into her shoulder. Sobbing, he pulled his arms around her and hugged her tight. "Yeah…"

"You did it, didn't you?" asked Jess. "What Dr. Winsor said."

Pulling her tighter, Sam cried, "Yes."

She pulled him closer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His sobs stopped, and his breathing slowed. Sam pulled away from her and looked deeply into her eyes. She again wiped his cheek. He smiled weakly. "Yeah, yeah, I do."