"What happened?" Sam asked, coming in to pour himself a cup of coffee. He had already changed out of his running outfit, once again back in his usual jeans and plaid shirt. He stood next to you, silently giving you the comfort he thought you needed.

"We talked. At least we tried to. But he's still so guilt stricken, that he believes I will never forgive him. That I should never forgive him. Then I flinched, when he moved. I can't believe it! I was working so hard trying to stay calm on the outside." You told him, frustrated with how things with Dean had unfolded.

"It's a start. We can't expect the two of you to heal in a day." Sam told you, and you knew he was right. But it was so hard seeing Dean that way, but you also knew you were still aways away  from being healed yourself.

"So now what?" You asked, knowing you were probably putting too much on Sam's shoulders, but you couldn't help it. He was so compassionate and caring. Always there for you when you needed it.

"Now, I say we take a little bit of time to relax and heal before we even worry about hunting." Sam offered. You weren't sure how that would go, none of you had been very good with taking time off.

"Sure, and do what? Play games all day?" You teased.

You didn't wait for Sam to answer, instead you dropped your coffee cup in the sink before leaving the kitchen behind. You weren't sure what to do. Now that there weren't any hunts to go on, you figured you could head back to bed and catch up on some sleep.

On your way back to your room, you noticed the library was empty. Dean must have been in his room, and you were kind of disappointed. You had wanted to have a chance to talk to him again.

Instead you shuffled down the hallway, past the closed door of Deans room, before stepping into your own. Slipping out of your jeans, you left the sweatshirt on and climbed back into bed, stifling a yawn as you sunk into the soft mattress.

The coffee must have already kicked in because you had a hard time falling back to sleep. You kept tossing and turning, getting stuck in the covers, but unable to find a comfort spot. Giving up, you reached into one of the boxes, pulling out your favorite book. It was your go to item, something you always picked up to read when something was bugging you, or sleep was being elusive.

As usual, it calmed you down, and you felt your eyes slowly drifting shut, falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Dean was standing in front of you, his eyes black as he a wicked looking knife in his hands. "Don't you wish you had stayed back at the club?" He sneered, as you shivered. Glancing down, you noticed you were naked, strapped to a motel room bed, your arms and legs both strapped to the edges of the bed. Your body was already full of gashes and bruises, and you fought hard to get free.

"Dean, please no! You can fight this!" You pleaded, twisting your body to the side, but the straps were too tight, and you were stuck. He stepped forward, running the blade of the knife up your leg, hard enough that a thin line of blood swelled up in place.

You begged and pleaded, your words turning nonsensical as the blade traveled farther up your body.

"I don't want to fight it. I'm having so much fun right now." He whispered, leaning down so his lips were against your ear. "Any idea how we can have some more?" He asked, before pressing the blade against the valley between your breasts.

Your cries were hoarse, deep sobs that you couldn't control. You waited, fearing what was to come next.

"Y/N! Wake up! Y/N!" You vaguely heard a voice yelling, but you were still caught up in the terror of the dream, and you thrashed about in your bed, trying to move away.

"Stop Y/N, please sweetheart, wake up." The voice said again, before a pair of strong hands grasped your shoulders, finally pulling you from the nightmare.

Opening your eyes, your adrenaline still high, you freaked out again when a pair of familiar green eyes were situated above your own. Not thinking clearly, you wondered if this was still all part of the dream, and you screamed, before pushing his hands away.

Scooting out of bed as fast as you could, pulling the covers with you, you landed on your rump on the far side. Tears pouring down your cheeks, your entire body shook, from the adrenaline coursing through your body, and complete terror.

Dean climbed off the bed, his hands in the air, and it wasn't until then that you could start to breathe. As you took in big, gulping breaths, you notices you were no longer a prisoner in that horrible motel room, but were once again in the somewhat safe confines of the bunker.

By the time you had finally started calming down, Sam had run into the room, staring between you and Dean. "What the hell happened?" He asked.

"She was having a nightmare, I was just trying to help." Dean tried explaining, frustration and guilt dripping from his words. "I should have known her nightmare would be about me."

"Dean, I'm..." You started, but the look in his eyes stopped you. It was the look of utter defeat and hopelessness, and it brought fresh tears to your eyes. You knew the nightmares would come, after all you had been through some horrible times. It just hurt to know how much they affected you and everyone around you.

"I'm sorry." Dean said softly, so softly you almost didn't catch the words, before he turned and left the room. Sam was torn, wanting to comfort you, but at the same time wanting to chase his brother.

"Maybe we are pushing things too soon." He started, running his hands through his hair. "I might try to talk Dean into taking a little trip, get him away from all of this. You stay here, and we can try things again when we come back."