AN: This is a Winchester sister story, hopefully not too cliche. Sam is not the only one with visions and powers come from a few different places. I started this with no knowledge of what happened post mid-Fourth Season, so it is extremely AU after Dean's return, while only being fairly AU up till then. This is my first work and the Beta is done by the fabulous SylvannaWincheseter and all mistakes are mine entirely. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did then the Impala would never have been wrecked in Season One. Rose however, is all mine.

One Nightmare

The two men struggled, trying to push the weight off, escape from the creature's hold. Almost in unison they started screaming in pain as their chests were ripped open, blood spurting from the wounds until the screaming stopped and the laughter began.

Except the screams didn't stop completely.

It was almost three a.m. and the dormitory at Evenwoods Girls' Academy was disrupted by terrors in the night, someone wailing out the tortured words "Dean!" and "Sam!" sounding as if her heart was being broken in front of her.

The lights came on all over the dorm as teachers and students alike raced toward the source. There was no question who it was. It had happened before and it was always Rose Winchester.

The dreaming girl's roommate was there first, frightened herself, as she tried to shake her friend awake. "Rose, come on, wake up, please!"

Just like that, the screams stopped and then her eyes flew open. "Oh, God!" she choked, gripping her friend's arms so tightly bruises would form by morning. "I gotta do something!" Abruptly she let go and, still not quite awake, started pulling on her jeans. "I- I've gotta go"

Before Carol could make any more moves toward her friend or even ask any questions, Ms. Johnson—the hall mistress—arrived. "Dear Lord, Miss Winchester! Are you all right?"

"No ma'am," she said, still not quite in control of herself. "My brothers, I mean..." She trailed off and shook her head, clearing it and visibly pulling herself out of her dream state. "Yes, ma'am. I'm fine." She shrugged and sank back onto her bed. "Nightmare."

"Do you need anything?" The teacher asked, concerned about her student. Rose shook her head, smiling very weakly. Ms. Johnson looked at her suspiciously before sending all the gawking girls to bed with a stern warning to stay there.

"Rose again?" asked Ms. Halen , one of the other teachers that had come running. Ms. Johnson nodded.

"That poor child," Ms. Halen said in a hushed whisper. "And she'd been doing so well lately too. It's been what, six months, since she last woke us by screaming." She glanced at the door as she went to her own room. "I don't think I really want to know what that girl's seen."

What indeed? Rose Winchester's nightmares were as legendary as they were mysterious. She never spoke of them, barely acknowledged their existence during the daylight hours.

Because of them, she wasn't a kid with many friends; despite the fact that she was charming, polite, friendly (if reserved) bright, and extremely pretty.

Still, she had a few, Carol being her closest. Carol was ignoring Ms. Johnson and sitting on Rose's bed. "Was it your mom again?" Carol didn't know exactly what had happened to Mrs. Winchester, only that it had been horrible and that Rose had witnessed it. Which was more than anyone else knew.

"No," Rose said, slumping back against the pillows. "This was about…it was about my brothers. They were being attacked."

"By whom?"

Rose smiled grimly. "By what?"

Carol shivered. "Ugh-monsters." She patted her friend's shoulder, attempting to offer comfort. "Good thing they aren't real."

Rose didn't bother to correct her, even though she knew better. One of the first things she had ever learned is that you don't discuss Hunter business with non-Hunters.

Obviously, Rose was used to nightmares, but this one felt different. The second thing she had learned was that doubting your instincts could get you killed.

So she began to formulate a plan as she stared up at the shadows she'd never trust, praying that she was wrong.