Blood, Tears, And a Game Ch. 1

Music blared from the speaker's of the Impala, but Dean wasn't singing along. He stared straight ahead on the road, Sam beside him, looking at the newspaper for a hunt they might have a lead on.

Right now, Dean just wanted to save as much people as possible. He wanted to forget what Castiel had said in the hospital when Sam killed Alastair.

He'd started it. All of it. The seals breaking, Sam going dark side, and the only thing he could do not to go insane from grief and blame was to save the people who needed help.

"You're quiet," Sam stated.

"Yeah. And?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. They both had their secrets, brothers or not. Sam didn't need to know about it. Not yet.

"I don't know. I just…you seem pretty quiet lately." Sam said, looking concerned. Dean snorted.

"Its not exactly the greatest times in the world, Sammy."

"I know, but…you're usually the one to make it better. You know, crack a joke, or say anything that has heavy sarcasm." Sam said, his eyes still scanning his brother's face.

"Yeah, well. Not now. Tired, I guess." Dean half-lied. Part of it was true. He was tired. Exhausted, really. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too. The stress of the seals breaking was beginning to take its toll, and he merely wanted to lay down and forget.

But he wouldn't. Because if he didn't stop the Apocalypse, no one would.

"All right. I think I found something." Sam said, studying an article.

Dean glanced at him. "Yeah? What's up?"

Sam winced. "Well, its pretty friggin' weird, even for us. Over the last few weeks, people have been disappearing. Then, a few days later, random times, they return….dead. Now each person was killed in a different way, such as a gunshot, stab wound, severe cancer even when they were perfectly healthy before. Hell, someone's brain exploded."

Dean smirked. "Exploding brain. Classic. Never heard of this kind of freaky thing yet. You?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "Wait. Someone survived. They said he's pretty whacked up, though."

"What does he say?" Dean asked, spotting a motel he considered staying at.

"That he witnessed his worst nightmare, but it wasn't like a dream. It felt too real, and he had the same wounds on him that he'd 'imagined'." Sam frowned.

"Huh. Almost like the opposite of a djinn," Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, maybe. Worth a shot."

"Where?" Dean sighed tiredly. They'd been driving for about 10 hours.

Sam looked at the paper warily. "Lawrence, Kansas."

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." Dean moaned. The last place he wanted to go was his home town. Sam may not have remembered it, but Dean remembered it all. And it killed him inside at the very sight.

"Yeah." Sam said softly, looking at him. He saw a hidden pain beneath his brother's annoyed expression. "We can skip this one."

"No friggin' way. My personal shit isn't going to get in the way of killing this son of a bitch, whatever it is." Dean muttered. He glanced hopefully at another motel. "Kansas is like hours away. Can we at least sleep a few hours?"

Sam looked at him. "You can't stall it forever, Dean."

"Oh, God, please. Look, Sammy, I'm tired. Is that such a terrible thing?" he demanded.

"All right." Sam shrugged. There was a moment of silence.

"I think we need to borrow Dorothy's red shoes." Dean said sarcastically. "Your demon BFF could use a heart."

Sam snorted. "Hilarious."

Dean smirked in satisfaction and pulled over into a motel without another word.

"AHHHH! Stop! Please, stop!" Dean screams only echoed into nothingness of Hell. He felt his blood gushing, his whole body throbbing form the beating, the knife tearing at his flesh.

The demons laughed, mocking him. "Cant kill us now, can you, Deano?"

Dean gasped from the blood spurting from his mouth. He said nothing. He couldn't.

"Bet you miss little Sammy too, huh? Still love your little brother?" one demon screeched, laughing wickedly.

"Maybe you'd like to see an exclusive on what's going on up there." another smirked, brushing a finger across his cheek.

"No." Dean choked out, terrified at what he might see. But he felt himself dying again at the sight. Sam was bloody, broken, as a dark figure paced slowly in front of him.

"Would you like to join your brother?" it hissed. Sam let out a tear.

"No. No, he wouldn't want that. I don't want to see him." Sam cried. Then the figure, a demon, slit its arms, and put it to Sam's arm.

"THEN DRINK!" it howled.

"SAMMY! NO!"

Sam's eyes were black as he advanced toward Dean. "This is your fault…"

"SAMMY!"

Dean bolted upright, his bare chest heaving, cold sweat on his face. He frantically looked for his brother. He sighed in relief when he saw Sam shoving the door open from the bathroom.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked softly, not daring to comfort his borther unless needed.

"Yeah…" Dean gasped, putting his head in his hands. "God. That was…" He felt like breaking out in tears. But instead he got up from the bed, grabbing a shirt.

"Was it about…the pit?" Sam asked sympathetically. Dean froze.

"Yes." Dean whispered.

"Do you…you want to talk about it?" Sam offered, his voice still soft.

"No. No, I…I'm okay. Hey, I'm gonna go grab a soda from the vending machine outside. Want anything?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine." Sam said, still scanning his brother's face. Dean offered what he hoped to be a smile before quickly getting dressed and he was out the door within a minute. When he reached the soda machine, he slammed his fist against it, making it rattle.

His own pained screams, the people he tortured screams', rang loudly in his ears. "Stop." he whispered. "Make it stop."

He found himself falling to his knees, clutching his head, Hell more vivid than ever. He was confused, though. The memories weren't this bad. He could push it down.

But this was real, as if he was still in Hell. Tears formed in his eyes. He let out a sob as the pit suddenly swirled itself around him, agonizing him from the inside.

He gasped, begging it to stop. "I'm alive," he whispered. "I'm not in Hell. Not anymore."

Sam's eyes were black as he advanced on Dean, his hand gripping his throat. "Its all your fault. You did this to me!"

Dean's eyes suddenly opened, a scream ending from his mouth. He saw Sam running toward him, looking panicked. He realized he was trembling.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, grabbing his shoulders. "You okay? Hey, Dean, snap out of it. Talk to me."

Dean blinked. "I'm okay." he said weakly.

Sam didn't look convinced. "Should I take you to a…"

Dean raised a hand. "Hospital? Absolutely not. 'M okay." he said, allowing Sam to help him up.

Once Sam had helped Dean to the motel's bed, Sam ran a hand through his long hair. "What the hell was that?"

Dean sighed. "I have no idea. Probably from the nightmare, I guess."

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "Dean, you looked like you were in a different world. You were screaming, crying, and…I thought you were dying for a second."

"It was nothing, Sam. Promise." Dean said. "How's the research going?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Its early morning, Dean. I haven't started."

Dean frowned. "Might as well start packing up then. Let's just get this hunt over with." With that, Dean started to pack up his clothes, shoving them into a bag.

"Dean, um…"

"Sam, don't. For the 100th freaking time, I'm fine." Dean said, and his lips pursed as a sign that he wasn't saying anything more.

"At least let me drive, Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Dean looked as if he was about to pass out while driving the Impala. They were no more than a half hour from Lawrence, and Dean had insisted on driving for the past 5 hours.

"Sam, no. No one touches the car." Dean snapped tiredly. He didn't know why he was so exhausted. He blinked furiously, but his eyes drooped even lower.

The car lurched to the side.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, grabbing the keys and stopping the car from moving.

But Dean wasn't conscious anymore. As he fell into a deep sleep, he heard a voice.

"I'm coming for you."

When Dean awoke, he found himself staring at a ceiling of a hotel. "Sam." he muttered.

He sat up, groaning from the ache in his head. He got up, his legs wobbling, and he shuffled to the mini-fridge, and, relieved, grabbed a beer.

"What the hell is going on with me?" Dean mumbled to the sky. At that moment, Sam walked in wearing a suit.

He looked relieved. "Dean. You're awake. Thank God. I was getting worried." Sam said, sitting on the couch.

"What happened?" Dean asked. Honestly, it felt as if a really bad hangover was coming.

"You passed out while driving." Sam said, concerned.

Dean's eyes widened. "Is she okay?" he demanded, standing up.

"…The car is fine, Dean. How about you?" Sam asked.

"Awesome. So. You questioned the police?" he asked.

"Yeah. He's pretty baffled. Said it may be a serial killer or something." Sam smirked.

Dean snorted. "Right. What do you say?"

"Um…I'm working on it. I pulled up a bunch of lores, but I'm still wondering if its bogus or not. One of them looks interesting. See, it's a god, and it transfer victims to their worst nightmares. No reason as to why, but…" Sam shrugged. "it's a possibility."

"Yeah," Dean paused. "So it just…automatically tosses someone in a nightmare out of nowhere?"

Sam walked over to where his laptop lay. Dean waited as he searched. "Usually. But sometimes it targets a certain person. Lures them closer, all the while torturing him with little…visions…of the nightmare." He paused and looked at Dean. "You don't think…?"

"I freaking hope not." Dean winced. "So, it got a name?"

"You're going to love this," Sam smirked. "Pussila, or, formally, Pestula."

Dean chuckled. "That's just sad. Even for a woman." Then he noticed Sam's face. "No way. It's a dude? Oh, man."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Maybe you should sit this one out, Dean. It may be targeting you."

"What? No. Its fine, Sam. I'll kill it."

"But it would explain the nightmares, the way you've been acting, that…incident outside of the motel…"

"Sam. How do we kill it?"

"Chopped off head with an iron ax." Sam said, looking at the screen of the computer.

"My favorite." Dean grinned.