Hello everyone, i'm back again.

First off, i know i said the next story in the Something Lost series was 'on the turning away' but this story just flowed better after 'pawns' so i changed the order around a bit. also, i was gonna wait till i finished 'a door in the dark' but this story has stolen my muse, so i'm posting early.

I've been sick as of late, so a huge sorry to anyone reading 'a door in the dark' i know it's been a while, but i will hopefully have it up tomorrow. :) as always, enjoy and let me know what you think.

D: this is all just for fun.

AFTERGLOW

Chapter 1

The room was dark, the small space lit only by a dim lamp in the far corner. It was sparsely furnished, making the area seem bigger than it really was. It was emptier than any room he'd ever been in before, his footsteps echoing slightly as he made his way across the warn wood floor. Something was drawing him to the other side of the room. A shadow flicking in and out of existence was calling to him, beaconing him. It looked like a woman, at least from what he could make out. The figure's hair was long and dark, falling in soft waves over her slim shoulders. He knew he was walking into a potentially dangerous situation, knowing almost nothing about the shadow, but he still couldn't turn away.

Even though her back was to him, he could still feel her eyes boring into him, piercing his soul, looking through him. The figure was so familiar, yet still a stranger to him, like half a memory, or a long forgotten photograph. He knew her, every fiber of his being telling him he needed to go to her— but his mind still failed to put a name to the mysterious woman.

The heavy silence around him was suddenly broken, the room shrinking when the figure before him began to speak. No longer was he standing in an abyss, a shapeless room. No, now he stood in an apartment, the woman before him staring stoically out a large window, her pale skin shinning in the moonlight filtering through.

"This is what I was left with."

The room filled with her voice, the sound coming from everywhere except the woman. He still couldn't see her face, but he knew her lips weren't moving. He was staring at a scene that had already taken place, glimpsing a past he had missed the first time around. He wanted to answer, wanted to know why she was so alone, why she was lost to the past. He didn't know why, but he felt she should be surrounded by family, loved and protected, not left by herself in such dark solitude.

"Where's your family?" He heard himself ask, his voice echoing around the room just as the woman's had done.

"They're fighting for me, but I can't be save. None of us can be saved."

"What do you mean? Saved from what?"

"The war is coming, and we can't escape it. Not in life, and not in death."

The woman before him turned at the last statement, her pale eyes on fire, burning through him, crushing him with a weight he couldn't imagine. And, in that instant, all he could do was cry out.

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"Sam! Sam!" Dean shook his brother, the younger man laying still in the sheets, his body having gone limp after screaming out in pain. Dean had been on his feet in seconds, his brother's distress sending adrenaline coursing through his body. Sam had been a mess ever since leaving the Roadhouse and the Trickster nearly a month before hand. And, not for the first time, Dean wondered if the creature had done something to his younger brother.

"Dean?" Sam moaned, his dark eyes fluttering open, voice full of confusion.

"Yeah, you alright?"

"Uh, yeah I think so. What happened?" Sam asked, pushing himself up with his brother's assistance.

"Nightmare. Pretty bad one from the sound of it."

"Are you sure?"

"Well no, since I don't inhabit that freaky brain of yours, but that's what it looked like. What happened? What do you remember?"

"I was in a room, or an apartment, and there was this girl there."

"Is this gonna be R rated." Dean joked, smiling when he saw the tension in his brother's eyes dissipate. The nightmares had been taking their toll on the younger man, Dean could see it. Sam was paler, his eyes unfocused and tired, his body slimmer from the weight he'd lost.

Dean wanted to take away the pain, wanted to hunt down what was attacking his brother— but how do you take down a bad dream?

"Not even PG-13, Dean."

"Damn. So, a girl in a dark room, that's the same dream as before, right?"

"Yeah, but it was clearer."

"How so?"

"It wasn't just a dark, shapeless kind of room this time, I could see the whole apartment— and the girl."

"Figure out who she is yet?"

"No."

"And you don't think it's a vision?"

"Nah, this is different. It's almost like I'm watching something that already happened. But, Dean, she spoke to me this time."

"What? What'd she say?"

Sam had been having the same dream every few night since leaving Valley, but until that night, it had always been the same. Sam had recounted the dream so many times, Dean had started to feel like it was his own, and it was eating away at him. The older man knew it wasn't a coincidence, knew it wasn't just a dream. It had to have something to do with Sam's abilities, something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon. Things didn't just happen in their lives— that was something Dean had learned long ago. Everyone around them seemed to have a plan, an ulterior motive, and he and his brother were always smack in the middle of it.

Dean's mind wandered back to the Roadhouse, to the day Sam collapsed in their friend Kerri's arms. She said she'd heard him mumbling something and had gone to see who he was talking to. Since then the pair had decided to kept the events of that day between them, much to Dean's annoyance, and he couldn't help but wonder if whatever had happened to his brother that day was related to his current condition. That single incident had been the start of what felt like an avalanche to Dean. Something was coming, something big, and he couldn't pull his brother away from the danger.

"She said, 'this is what I was left with'," Sam began, his voice pulling Dean back into the moment. "I felt like I should know her, too. I mean, last time it was just a shadow, but now I feel like I should know who she is."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Yeah, I asked where her family was and she said they were fighting for her, but couldn't save her. She said none of us could be saved."

"Well that's a little glass half empty. Is it the same person you saw in the Roadhouse?"

If Sam was caught off guard by the question he didn't show it. It was a tactic Dean had been trying for the past few week— wait till his brother was off his game, and spring the question. But apparently, no matter what was running through the younger man's mind, he was still sharp enough to see through his brother's antics.

"For the last time, I didn't see anyone at the Roadhouse."

"Whatever, you're gonna have to tell me sometime."

"Dean, there's nothing to tell."

"Oh no, so why'd you wake up screaming just now?" Dean began, filling a glass of water and handing it to Sam.

"What? No I didn't."

"Trust me, Sammy, you did. What happened?"

Sam visibly shuddered at the memory, taking a few sips of water before placing the glass on the night stand. "She said there was a war coming, one we couldn't escape in life or death. And then she turned around. I can't remember anything but her eyes, it felt like they were burning me."

"Does anything hurt now?" Dean asked, pulling out his cellphone as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, who're you calling?"

"Bobby."

"We don't need Bobby. Look, Dean, just stop," Sam began, reaching for the phone. "I'm fine, I feel fine. It was just a dream."

"It's more than a dream, Sam."

"It's probably the hunt. I mean, we didn't get any rest after the Trickster."

Dean saw the statement for what it was, a diversion. Sam had always been tight lipped about his abilities, but ever since the Roadhouse, he'd clammed up more than Dean had ever seen. The elder Winchester knew in his heart it all had something to do with Kerri, something to so with whatever Sam, and possibly their long time friend, had witnessed in the bar's kitchen. But, like everything else in Dean's life, those events were shrouded in mystery, and he knew enough not to push— the truth would come to light on its own, or at least when Sam and Kerri were too screwed to keep the secret.

"Yeah maybe. I mean, going missing's gotta be hell on the one that actually disappears."

"Yeah, lost and alone, no one coming. That's probably what's triggering the dreams." Sam answered, obviously happy with the change in topic.

Now wide awake Dean continued the line of thought, leaning back against the headboard as he spoke. "We're still pretty much at square one, though."

"Yup. Small town, every few years a different number of people go missing, no one ever finds a trace."

"That's the extent of it. And there's nothing linking any of the victims?"

"No. They're all from different walks of life, different ages. Hell, a few of them were even out of towners."

"They all went missing around the same areas though, right?"

"Yeah, the old church down on Bishop. It's actually become a kind of urban legend, one kid went missing last year when his friend dared him to stay the night."

"But not everyone that spends the night there goes missing."

"No, sometimes whole groups of people stay there and nothing happens. Other times, five or six people will go missing in a night."

"And it's always the same night?"

"Yeah, June 11th."

"Which is what, two days from now?"

"Yup, and since it's nearly midnight now, that gives us forty eight hours to figure out what's going on."

"We'll figure it out, Sammy." Dean mumbled, sliding down into the sheets.

His mind drifted back to the dream Sam had described to him over and over again. The way his brother told it, it was pure and absolute solitude, and that simple fact made Dean shiver. Alone— it was a word Dean hated. It was like the sound of a cell door swinging closed, the sound of hope drifting away second by second. And, more often than not, being a hunter meant being alone.

It was something Dean never wanted to face, a reality he never wanted to be a part of, but he knew there were some things he couldn't out run. Everyone he knew ended up alone. It was the way things were, the way they had to be. Loving was dangerous in the hunting world. It gave the enemy ammunition against you, making you weak— but despite all that, Dean held on tight to the people he loved, and he let that link show. He refused to give in to the dark and lonely futures many, many hunters accepted as all they would ever have.

No, Dean held onto the small shred of faith he'd had his entire life. No matter what laid in their paths, no matter what obstacles life placed in front of him, Dean always believed he would have his family. Even when Sam went to school, even when John died, Dean still held onto to the lifeline, to the knowledge that, if he didn't allow it to happen, then it wouldn't.

Isolation, emptiness, solitude— they were three words he ran from, three words he fought, three words that haunted him, because, so far, they were three words he'd been unable to fight. He'd been whole, and then they'd left Valley, Wyoming— left Kerri and her family. But he regrouped, found himself again, found his footing, only to have the rug ripped out from under him again when Sam left for school. Dean was a fighter though, and no matter how much it had hurt, he'd survived that loneliness as well. He had held onto his family, and when his father left, Dean found Sam again.

But now, despite it all, he could feel the void creeping up on him again, and he knew exactly when the fissure had started. Kerri Harrison. He'd met the girl when he was six years old, had grown up with her and her sister Evelyn. She was as close to normal as he had ever gotten. His friendship with the fierce redhead had been like a port in a blinding storm, a place of refuge from a world that was trying to devour him whole. Even when their fathers' falling out had forced a twelve year separation, Dean had never once forgotten the acceptance and trust he had found there— the home he had found there.

And then, he'd returned.

Evelyn and her father Tom were dead, and Kerri was barely more than a shadow of her former self. Sure she was still the self assured trouble maker she'd always been, but a light had left her deep blue eyes. The spark that was her, the defiance that had fueled Dean when they were young was gone, replaced with a solemn acceptance. It was like she'd turned into a manifestation of everything Dean feared. She was alone, her large house miles away from a town that had shunned her since she was a child. Solitude, isolation, they were two words that now described Kerri to a T. And Dean was terrified that, one day, it would be him.

After all, her father was a hunter, her sister was one of the psychic children— her past and Dean's were nearly mirror images of each other. But, despite that, they'd somehow managed to forge two completely different paths, the roads diverging until only recently. And suddenly, Sam's dream came back to him. There was a war coming, he could feel it, the air growing heavier each passing moment, fear so thick it hung around the earth like a heavy smog. And, for some reason Dean knew he and his brother weren't the only two in the middle of it— and no amount of faith could save him from the possibility of being alone.