Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!
Sam ran.
His breath rasped in and out of his lungs way too fast, leaving him gasping for air. His legs pounded the tarmac of the road, his limbs screaming as he pushed himself faster and faster. Sweat glistened on his forehead, half from his fear, half from the running. The rain pelting down on him ran it into his eyes and mouth, so that he could taste salt on his lips. Overwhelming panic rushed through him, threatening to destroy him completely. He tore around a corner, keeping to the middle of the road, and a bullet grazed the wall beside his head.
He ducked his head, letting out a short yell, and sprinted onwards, the gunshot setting loose new fear.
Keep running. Just keep running.
Typical to ignore his own advice. He chanced a tiny glance over his shoulder.
The girl following him was only about eighteen, but her face was contorted with such hate that you would have thought she had just lived through world war two and looked Hitler in the face. Her eyes leapt with a rage-filled fire, and her teeth were bared in a snarl of disgust. Her long, black hair flew out behind her as if it had a life of its own, lifting right off her shoulders and blowing about her face, slicked into thin strands by the rain. She lifted the gun in her right hand again, ready to shoot. The sight of her filled Sam with such fear that he stumbled on the wet ground, slowing slightly and skidded hard onto his knees.
Terror spurred him back up to his feet as the girl drove in on him, letting out a wordless scream of detestation. Her reaching fingers missed him by inches, and a bullet glanced off the tarmac beneath his feet. Sam lurched away from her, and heard her trip and falter. Hope flared up inside him and he ran around another corner into an alleyway. Water splashed upwards, soaking one leg as he raced through a deep puddle and he staggered away, panting hard. He emerged out onto another wider road, panting hard, and his speed finally gave out. He stumbled a few more meters before swaying and coming to a shuddering halt, just managing to stay upright, his legs trembling wildly.
One glance around told him all he needed to know. At one end of the road, a three people stood waiting. All he could make out through the pounding rain and half-light were the dark silhouettes of a second girl and two boys, one with short spiky hair, the other with longer straight locks. All of them had glowing red eyes, showing their true natures.
Sam took a fumbling step backwards, fresh horror rising in his chest. He span around, planning on running the other way instead but froze almost at once. The girl who had been chasing him had emerged into the road behind him. She stood still, her weight rolled onto her right leg, her gun resting at her side, her eyes burning red to match the others.
Sam swallowed hard, glancing around. There was no way out. No escape… he looked over his shoulder to see the group of three starting forwards, their eyes flaming. His head snapping back to the right, he saw the girl take a slow, deliberate step forwards.
No. Someone, help…
Sam took a sharp step backwards, struggling to control himself. His chest was so tight that he could hardly breathe. He caught sight of a glint of metal as the short-haired man drew a long, shining knife. On his other side, the girl began to lift her gun. Sam pulled back sharply, shaking.
No, no, no. This can't be happening. No…
The group were only a few metres away now, and the man was lifting the knife. The girl was almost upon him, her mouth twisting into a savage grin of triumph, her finger tightening on the trigger of her gun, flashing red eyes, cold, hard faces –
"DEAN!" Sam screamed.
He sat bolt upright, his fist swinging upwards before he could take in anything around him, his whole mind focused on the hands gripping him tightly by the upper arms. His knuckles connected with Dean's jaw with a sharp crack and Dean stumbled backwards, letting out a gasp of shock. He fell against the wall, reaching out a hand to steady himself, his eyes wide. Sam stared at him, his fist still stretched out, his knuckles beginning to throb.
It only took him half a second to recognize the world around him. He was sitting in his bed in their motel room, the blankets twisted around him. Sweat drenched his whole body, making his T-shirt and tracksuit trousers stick to his skin. He realized dimly that he was shaking hard.
"Sammy?"
Sam looked up at Dean, panting. Dean pushed himself off the wall, raising one hand to his jaw.
"If you wanted to sleep in, all you had to do was ask." The joke was damped by the strain and concern in Dean's voice. "You okay, Sammy?"
Sam swallowed hard, trying to wet his dry throat enough to speak.
"Yeah," he croaked. "I'm sorry. I didn't… I wasn't…"
"I know, Sam," Dean said, moving over to him. "It wasn't your fault."
Yes it was. "I'm so sorry."
"Shut it."
Dean's sarcastic, teasing grin was back on his face, if a little pained. It didn't quite mask the anxiety in his eyes as he reached out to take Sam's shoulder, slightly more cautiously this time.
"You were dreaming again, weren't you?"
It was hardly a question. Sam nodded anyway, clenching his fists in his lap.
"Sam, this has to stop. It's killing you."
"If I could make it stop, d'you think I would still have them every single bloody night?" Sam asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
"Alright, smartass," Dean muttered, turning away.
He walked over to the sink and took a glass, filling it with cold water. Returning to Sam, he held it out. Guilt speared through Sam as he took the glass.
"Sorry."
"You haven't slept properly for five damn nights, Sam, I think you're entitled to be a little grouchy."
Sam drained the glass in two gulps. The cool water soothed his dry throat, and he let out a long sigh as he lowered the glass.
"Thanks, Dean."
"Whatever," Dean muttered, embarrassed at the touchy feely moment. "Are you sure they're not visions?"
"No, they're different. I'm not watching it happen, I'm… I'm part of it."
"But it could still be a vision. Just different."
Sam shook his head. "No headaches. No flashing. Just… just me and them."
Dean nodded reluctantly. Shadows flickered in his eyes. Sam knew why he was so concerned that the dreams may be visions. If what Sam was dreaming about was going to happen, then that meant that Sam would be in trouble and Dean wouldn't be there to help.
"You wouldn't wake up this time."
Sam looked up, blinking. Dean was looking at the floor, his mouth a firm line.
"I couldn't wake you up for ages. Before you just snapped out of it. But this time…"
"Dean, I'm okay."
Dean looked up. "Of course you are," he said shortly, narrowing his eyes. "I'm here."
Sam rolled his eyes and hefted himself off the bed. Dean moved forwards as he swayed, but he shrugged away his helping hand.
"I'm taking a shower, that's all."
"It's five in the morning, Sam."
"Then the coffee shops should be open by the time I'm done."
Dean rolled his eyes and headed back to his bed. "Jeez, Sammy. You're like an alien."
Sam watched as his brother crawled back into bed, fully aware that if he did go out to buy some coffee, Dean would almost definitely go with him. Silently, he apologized again. Then he headed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.