Author: Steffykaye

Setting: two years after the pilot

Rating: PG-13/R br

Disclaimer: The characters of John, Dean, and Sam Winchester are not my creations.

From the journal of Dr. Hunter Ryder, "Some people say that dreams are merely a reflection of our subconscious will and desires, others that they are proof of a divine being operating in our lives. Until recently I would have leaned more to the former. As a man of science, it is often impossible for me to accept or even consider those things outside the scope of our five senses. At least until it haunts my life, causing me to be terrified at the thought of sleep. I know now that sometimes, dreams are more, much more. For some, dreams are a terrifying window into a world that is a maze of dark twisted deeds and a blood lust so strong that it overpowers you. 'To sleep, perchance to dream' is now a phrase that resonates through me with sinister power."

Hunter closed his journal and rose from the chair, He downed the last of his now lukewarm tea before he checked the windows and doors of his small, cozy house, all the while he knew that he was just looking for reasons to delay the inevitable. The tension of the past two weeks showed clearly in the set of his jaw and the haunted look in his eyes. Slowly, almost painfully, he made his way to the bedroom and prepared for bed. Although the thought of entering the mind of the killer again repulsed him, he knew that without his dreams, the police would have no leads. At first, they were loath to believe him, skeptical that someone who once prided himself on a logical, well-ordered life now claimed to have seen grisly murders in his dreams. Until he described the crime scenes in gruesome detail.

After that, only his standing in the community and the fact that he was not nearly strong enough to do the things that had been done to those women saved him from being arrested. Now, they came to him after every murder, with that same pleading, questioning look in their eyes. With great reluctance, he climbed into bed and prayed that this is one of the nights that the dreams do not come, that he can rest without being plagued by those dreadful images. As slumber started to claim him, however, he knew this is not to be the case. Already he felt the cruel arrogance creeping into him and knew the anger and the unquenchable thirst for blood and death couldn't be far behind. As he slipped into sleep, the dream came.

He saw a young woman, sitting in a pub, laughing with her friends. He looked down and saw his hands, the hands of a predator, as always garbed in black leather gloves stained with the blood of his victims. They were clenched into tight fists and shook with the sheer fury that coursed through him. Methodically, he calmed the rage, he knew he must look sane when he approached the woman. Smiling and talking politely with her friends took gargantuan strength of will. He only managed to accomplish it by keeping the pictures of degradation and death running through his mind, until he was able to get the woman alone.

Hunter tossed and turned in his bed. His anguished moans filled the silence of the night as he watched, in helpless terror, another woman being slain in his dreams. As the last of her life's blood drained from her body and she breathed the sigh that indicated the end of the torture she had suffered, Hunter woke in his bed, screaming in anguish. At that exact moment, halfway around the world, Sam Winchester did the same.