Cyndra Rae (cyndrarae) wrote,
Cyndra Rae

SPN fic: Of Fears and Nightmares (2/2)

Title: Of Fears and Nightmares
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one from SPN.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, Underage (Sam is 16+), Slash, Toys.
Summary: “Sam got knocked around a bit at the end which is why his ribs hurt when he so much as breathes. But what scares Dean the most is that he doesn’t know what did this to his little brother, and why Sam isn’t willing to talk about it.”
Pairings: Dean/Sam (established reln.)

<< Previous chapter


Two days are more than enough for Sam to start losing it. Sure he doesn’t mind staying holed up with Dean so long as he is getting some action. Duh. But Dean insists on keeping it light for the sake of his ribs. And then with this… thing… hanging between them, the company hasn’t been the most amicable it could be. Sam wishes his brother would just let it go already, its his nightmare and there’s no reason Dean should burden himself with it.

The next time Dean leaves to get something to eat, Sam puts on his brother’s black jacket, because he loves the way it smells, of Dean. Pulls on boots and even the gloves because fuck its cold, and escapes from the room. 

The town is nothing more than a secluded little watering hole surrounded by woodlands and buried neck deep in snow. Dad asked them to wait for him here while he takes care of an old Wiccan haunting in Salem which is three hours away. Sam keeps walking lost in his thoughts until he realizes he’s come a long way from the motel and deep into the heart of the forest. A certain tree catches his eye just as he’s about to turn back.

“Black cherry.”

Sam can’t help but smile as another Dean-moment comes back to him. In Sam-speak, a Dean-moment is when Dean said or did something either so brilliantly ridiculous or so ridiculously brilliant… it always left the brothers in peals of laughter and melted their worries away. Those were the memories that Sam cherished the most. If it wasn’t for his big brother’s ability to laugh off the hardships of their lives and make light of the horrors they witnessed… Sam would have had a breakdown long ago.

He was twelve years old then.

“So, tell me again. The flower is white, the fruit is red, and its called Black cherry?”

“Goes from red to black but Dean you’re missing the point!”

“No no, I get it… guy gives you a black eye you upper-cut him he falls back cracks his head open on a tree and you get suspended, what’s there to miss? So this tree… how did you know it was black cherry?”

Sam had huffed and rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Because I’m a geek! Dean! I’m in deep shit. What will I tell dad?”

Dean had just smiled, like he had a plan. No one was going tell dad anything, Dean’s been pretty good at forging John’s signature since he was eight.

“I’ll take care of it okay. Don’t worry. Right now we gotta celebrate.”

“Celebrate? What?”

“Samuel Winchester, you’re a man now. One I’m gonna like. I wasn’t so sure until yesterday and the tree fetish still kinda bothers me but, dude!!…”

Sam had been so muddled by the monologue he did not see it coming. His teenaged brother had for the first time in a long while shown his whole-hearted approval for his nerdy, chubby little brother by getting up and giving Sam a giant man-hug.

“Welcome to the world of anti-establishment Sammy.”

Then he’d laughed, that infectious laugh and Sam hadn’t been able to stop himself from joining in. They celebrated at the next door diner with a black cherry pie.

Present day, Sam walks up to the tree and leans against it. Takes out his pen knife and with his good right hand, starts carving in the bark. Bites back a grin and shakes head at his own childish self but doesn’t stop. Sam has always been a romantic sap at heart and only keeps it under wraps because his family would never appreciate it. Hell they’d wonder if Sam really was a Winchester in the first place. Sorry mom.


Sam jumps and almost drops the knife. Turns around, and moves to stand screening the tree with his body, greets his brother with a frowning smile.

“Hey. I was just… uh…”

But Dean’s already seen it. The twenty year old looks down for a second in an effort to hide his smirk then starts walking toward Sam. Spreads his arms out on both sides in question.

“Should’ve left a note.”

Sam shrugs. But before he can retort with something appropriately biting, Dean is standing right before him.

“What you got there?”

“Uh, nothin’…”

Digs his heels in but Dean is dodging him already and when he refuses to let him through, Dean just grabs Sam by his arms and pulls him into a hug, consequently away from the tree trunk. 


Dean ignores the high-pitched whining and looks at the amateur artwork – initials S&D carved in the middle of a heart.


“Fuck off.” Sam struggles to break free from his brother’s arms.

“No its sweet, really!” And finally succeeds, shoving Dean hard enough to force him a step back.

“Stop mocking me, you weren’t supposed to see this.”

Sam huffs again, a redness creeping all the way up his cheeks to the roots of his auburn hair, and tries to walk away but Dean won’t let him. Catches hold of him again and gently leans him against the said tree.

“Look at me.”

Sam is too busy blushing hotly but eventually obeys and looks into Dean’s eyes. They are shining not with mirth as he expected, but something else. Something he is grateful for every second of every day.

“I could never mock this. Never.”

He is glad for the support of the tree as Dean closes his mouth over his. He could never ever get enough of this… Dean’s softer side constantly surprises him. As a brother he could sometimes be a bully and as a hunter he was always ruthless… but as his lover, Dean is just perfect. They kiss each other for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths and tongues and taking tiny breaks to breathe but never venturing away.

“Dean… lets do it.”

Dean looks at him, his eyes playful just as Sam’s.


He didn’t need to be asked twice, but he wasn’t keen on taking chances with Sam’s injury. Covers Sam with his entire body and Sam’s good arm grips his brother to him tightly. Dean presses his groin into Sam’s until both can feel each other’s rock hard erections.

Sam pants. “Too many clothes …”
Dean unzips himself first and then Sam and drags both their shafts out in his hands. Sam uses his right hand to help until they are lined up against each other. Then together as one, the brothers start fisting. The friction from their hands is breathtaking – one encased in soft cold leather and the other calloused but warm and plush as always. Along with the chafing from roughly rubbing against each other… the sensations become too intense and too enormous to describe. A hand sneaks down Sam’s jeans at the back and cups his ass cheeks, squeezing in perfect rhythm with their strokes. Dean moans and Sam moans louder, throws his head back against the tree. Dean bites at his lower lip, dragging him into another punishing kiss until they’ve both lost all track of all time and space around them. All that exists is Sam and Dean and their long drawn-out collective orgasms.

Sam takes off the ruined glove and offers it to Dean to clean up, with a barely controlled smirk on his face. Dean looks at the apparel.


Sam chuckles breathlessly and Dean has no choice but to take it. Before wiping though, he raises his soiled hand to mouth level. Sam doesn’t think twice before bending to lick at their juices dripping from Dean’s hand. Dean gulps hard, the sight is probably the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.

At last Dean lets his head fall on Sam’s shoulder and they take their time enjoying the peaceful bliss, catching their breaths. Sam opens his eyes first.

“Hey Dean? You remember back when we used to celebrate every time we broke a law, or a school regulation with… cherry pie?”

Dean looks at him then and grins getting the drift. “Oh yeah. This that tree then?”

He gazes upward to see if he can spot any white flowers or red cherries which of course he can’t because it’s the middle of winter. But Sam isn’t done yet.

“Do you… do you remember our anti-authoritarian, anti-establishment pact?”

“Of course I do Sammy. Hell we live by it every single day.”

Dean frowns at his brother then, the hesitation in his voice and the shadow of fear in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Where is this going?”

Sam swallows, hard. They never, ever talk about… this thing. Them… together… what with being brothers and all, they just never ever talk about it.

Forces a plastic smile then, pushes himself off the tree and zips himself up. Dean follows suit.

“Well… in honor of… burning down our very first urban construction I think we should celebrate again.”

Walks past Dean and looks back when his brother doesn’t follow.

“You comin’ or what?”

Dean starts to walk, staying a step behind as his brother leads the way out of the woods toward the only coffee shop in town.

“This about Boston aint it?”

Sam keeps walking, sighs and wills his eyes not to water. Dean catches up with him and makes him halt, with a look of curious concern on his face that Sam tries really hard to evade.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Sam?… Sammy?”


Sam stands under the shower for a long long time. For one, it's his first proper shower in three days now that the bandages are off. And two – Sam hopes the hot water would warm him up enough to bear the frost that’s settled between his brother and him. But it's not like he has anyone else to blame. He knows Dean’s patience is thinning out… maybe he’ll just let it go and they’ll stash it away with all the rest of the junk they never talk about, and move on. Maybe Dean will decide it's not really a big deal, after all Sam’s been doing his damnedest to act all cool and nonchalant just like Dean does when he doesn’t wanna talk about something. Sam has after all been learning from the best.

When he comes out, has a towel wrapped around his waist and with a smaller one rubs his hair dry. Takes him a couple of seconds to look around and realize he did not just fall asleep in the shower and this… this is not a dreamscape.

All lights are out. There are thousands, no hundreds… okay maybe forty candles lit up all over the room. The drapes are drawn, the heat is perfect, the bed’s turned down and Dean is there. Beautiful, gorgeous, Dean. Standing right there enveloped in the ethereal luminescence, naked gold all the way to the low waistband of his jeans, arms folded, smiling… waiting.

Sam has to snort. “Chick flick much?”

Dean grins widely. “Well if you plan to seduce a chick…”

Gets a wet towel in the face for that, which he casually slides to one hand and opens his arms, wide. Sam can’t oblige fast enough, he closes the distance in three shaky steps and lets his body sink into the eternal comfort that’s Dean. He wants to say he’s sorry, he wants to say he’s thankful… but none of those words matter to Dean. He knows Dean doesn’t do words period. It's why he resorts to physical forms of expression… even ones as cheesy as this.

Sam smiles and inhales Dean’s hair deeply as he is gently rocked from side to side. When it comes to Sam, Dean knows just where to touch, and what to kiss… and precisely which buttons to push to get the responses he desires. Sam should have remembered that, instead in the heat of this glorious moment, all he can think of… is that this is Dean’s way of forgiving him. Dean’s way of moving on, leaving the past where it belongs.
In the fucking Winchester closet.

Dean rubs at his dripping hair until it's dry enough for his liking. They shuffle toward the bed just as Dean undoes the towel shielding Sam from his hungry eyes. Sam scissors his arms around Dean’s neck pulling him down over himself and they kiss, slow and leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. When they part Dean has his eyes do the talking and let Sam know what to expect next. Sam runs his hands over the sculpted back as Dean straddles the boy’s thighs and with two hands, two lips and one awfully capable tongue, maps every inch of his little brother’s torso.
“Come on Dean…”

Sam’s breaths are hitched already and he knows they haven’t even started. Dean finally makes it down to his navel, which happens to be his favorite spot and he proceeds to prove it by dipping his tongue into the depression over and over again. Sam arches up and moans, partly because his ribs still ache, but mostly because this is making him so unbelievably hard he aches anyway.

“Dean, come on…”

And Dean concedes. The first touch is at the heavy silken balls, alternately tickling and massaging them. Two spit-soaked fingers find that secret patch of skin behind the sac and tease it making Sam squirm. Head downwards until they encircle the tiny orifice beneath and gently start probing, not completely in but not completely out either. Sam rolls his hips upwards, yearning for the fingers to go deep and deeper but Dean keeps pulling back at the worst-best moments.

“Crap! No teasing…”

Sam whines and Dean wishes he could keep him like this forever… sweating and panting and begging for more, suspended on the brink of scorching hot desire and no one but Dean should ever get to see him like this… see the stunning vision that is his brother.

Introducing a third finger inside Sam’s hot channel, Dean lowers his mouth over the tip of his erection, sucking at the head with relish and Sam is mewling. Dean just smiles, if it weren’t for his other hand gripping Sam at the base of his erection, Sam would have spurted already. Dean proceeds to thoroughly lave the underside from the base up to the head then back again and his own erection approaches borderline painful but it’ll just have to wait.

He’s got work to do.

The suction begins in earnest and so does the pistoning inside his anus and Sam is writhing to get away yet spreading his legs as far apart as they can possibly go. He is going to come, oh God he can’t stop it anymore… tugs at the dark blonde hair to issue the warning because words would be a challenge right now, but just before he can, Dean backs off. Sam groans.


“Shhh… its okay. Party’s not over yet.”

He reaches to the bedside drawer to fish out something. Turns out to be lube, a condom and the toy… the bright pink vibrating dildo with Sam’s name etched on it. The boy groans louder if that were possible.

“I get it. You’re trying to kill me aren’t you?”

Dean breathes heavily, the beads of sweat on his forehead glisten in the candlelight and he’s barely holding himself together but Sam’s too occupied to notice.

“I’m killing myself here Sammy… God you’re so beautiful.”

He leans in and mouths crash once again in an attempt to devour each other whole. Requires inhuman tenacity to part but Dean does, and crouches between Sam’s legs folded at the knees. He kisses the kneecaps almost reverently and licks a curvy line down the insides of each thigh as Sam arches up hoping Dean would finish the blowjob, but he doesn’t. Instead he lubes up the dildo generously and starts to slide it in.

“Easy baby, just relax. Let it through… let it through…”

Sam bites his lip at the intrusion but once the first ring of muscle is breached, every subsequent inch becomes faintly easier to bear. His brother is slow and cautious and painfully gentle and sometimes Sam wishes he’d just ram it in get it over with. But he knows Dean would never be rough with him, least not so early in their relationship. So he waits and waits and gasps until the toy is snug and secure at the very core of his existence. Feels odd and unnatural this… this sensation of being stuffed and yet, God… it’s the hottest thing next only to Dean himself inside of him.

Sam pants, enough adjusting. Claws blindly at his brother’s biceps for something, anything… don’t just let it sit there! Dean shushes him, twirling his pubic hair round his fingers idly for a while and then without warning flicks the switch. Sam screams.

“Oh God! Oh fuck… Ohh!…”

The vibrations are strumming his insides and echo through his entire being, nerves carrying the deliciously erotic, inescapable stimulation to every molecule in his body. Heels dig into the mattress and hips buck upwards despite Dean’s solid bulk holding them down. And then he’s coming, no power in the universe can stop him from coming then. And Dean is there, suckling him, coaxing the multiple ejaculations right out of him over and over again until there is nothing left…


And it's all he can say, it's all he has any energy left to think to say. Dean pulls himself up where Sam’s arms encircle him lazily. And then he is kissing his big brother everywhere, his lips, his nose, his earlobes. Dean’s hands are combing his hair back, caressing his flushed cheeks. Sometime in the midst of his mind-blowing release, Dean had switched off the vibrator but it's still in him. Feels kinda nice, not so unnatural anymore.

Dean’s hand disappears to unzip himself, and Sam can see he came in his pants. He smiles coyly into the next kiss, biting wickedly at Dean’s lower lip making it shamelessly obvious he wants to keep playing. Helps Dean shimmy out of the soiled jeans without letting him go too far away. How he looks forward to Dean replacing the rubber toy with himself… but maybe in a few minutes. Right now he just needs to catch his breath. Right now he needs to…
“We need to talk.”

What? Sam looks at his brother. He can’t possibly be serious? Talk? Dean? Now?

Dean scratches behind his ears and Sam literally purrs despite his best intentions. What could possibly be so important as to warrant a conversation right…? Oh.

“Tell me what you saw.”

Sam looks into his brother’s eyes then. Fortitude meets a frightened numbness at an impasse and Sam doesn’t know how to make it go away. Not like this, not right now…

“Right now Sammy. I’ve been patient. But I can’t see you zoning out again way you keep doing ever since that fucking job.”

Sam needs to get up and away, now. Dean holds his face in his two hands and makes him look straight into his eyes. And he sees it and he frowns.

“There it is again.”

Sam swallows. “What…”


Sam looks away.

“And not of your regular angry spirits or demons and shit. Something else…”

Dean tugs at his chin to make Sam meet his eyes again. “It's getting worse isn’t it?”

Sam pleads. “It's nothing. Can’t you just forget it?”

“Can you?”

Sam doesn’t know what to say to that. The answer is not what either of them will like very much. Dean kisses him then, softly on the lips once, twice and rubs his thumb across his jaw line.

“How bad can it be? Just say it…”


He feels it when Dean speaks next… the stone in his voice says a lot more than mere words.

“Sammy… this isn’t a request anymore.”


Dean lets go of the breath he’s been holding for like years. Far as he’s concerned, this game of cat and mouse has gone on long enough. Sure Sammy has the right to keep some things to himself, privacy and shit. But not things that make him look like he’s been diagnosed with cancer and only has three weeks to live. And where the hell did that particular analogy come from?

Dean doesn’t want to waste any more time analyzing this, he never was much good at it anyway. All he knows is, his little brother is freaking out because of something bad and every time Sam looks at him, his eyes are practically pleading with Dean to do something about it. Like he always has, like he is supposed to.

So he does. Reaches down between Sam’s legs and flicks the switch on. Sam gasps at the tremors of pleasure that spike again and this time Dean is fucking him with it.

“God… Dean please…”

Sam throws his head back, his frantic hands digging nails into Dean’s arms as the older boy deliberately pushes in, holds, then pulls the damn thing out before doing it all over again. His limp, over-sensitized organ stirs back to life and it hurts because it's too damn soon after the last time.

“Just say it baby… tell me what’s wrong.”

And Sam wishes he could, he could always talk to his big brother. Hell he’s the only one in this family who knows how to. But then, what if… what if it became real?

“Ahhh!… this isn’t fair… Dean stop…”

Dean isn’t stopping. Instead he increases the strength and speed of the strokes and before long Sam is counter-moving to make the dildo hit his prostate over and over again. Five minutes? Ten… fifteen? He doesn’t know long it takes for the excruciating pressure to build up to a point where he sure doesn’t want it to stop anymore. Not when he’s almost there… fuck so close…

Dean flicks the vibrator off. Sam groans in great protest and punches Dean hard in the chest.

“Why’re you being such a jerk?”

“Is it me?”

Sam frowns, startled because this he did not see coming. “What?”

Dean swallows, hard. He doesn’t know if its Sam’s worst nightmare or his that they’re discussing anymore. But he needs to know.

“Are you afraid of me?”


“Because I get it Sammy, I do. You’re just a kid, a minor, you’re my baby brother and I was supposed to take care of you and protect you not… not…”

Dean can’t finish, the truth of what they’ve become is even harsher when you say it out loud. But he is pulled out of the whirlwind of his guilt-laden thoughts when Sam grabs him by the face instead. How convenient for Dean to forget it was Sam who started it and hog all the credit himself. It was Sam who lusted after his big brother for months before he came to even know… it was Sam who kissed him first, hoping Dean would be too smashed to notice. Sam who forced his hand the first time Dean ever touched him the way lovers do, Sam who wept like he was dying when Dean faltered and tried to end it.

SAM damn it. NOT Dean.

“It's not always about you, you know.”

And he acts enraged but he really is just scared because this is happening, his greatest fear is already on the verge of coming true and God he can’t stand it… this, this… feeling of sand slipping from within his fingers the harder he tries to hold on to it.

Sam bites down on Dean’s lips until there’s blood which blends with spit and sweat and maybe tears but they don’t care. They just keep kissing until Dean realizes Sammy still hasn’t answered his question yet. The switch is thrown again.

“Aargh! Damn you Dean, take it out take it out!”

This is so not the time. His erection was mercifully flagging and Sam just wishes he could roll over and play dead. Dean drags it out slowly only to slam it back again and Sam can’t even find it in himself to gripe because…

“Shit shit shit!…”

Dean plays with a taut nipple in his two fingers and when Sam tries to jerk himself off to make it end, he bats his hands away, holds them over his head with one of his own. They both know Dean’s determination is strong where Sam’s will is weak.

“You want me to touch you Sammy?”

Sam grunts and whines deep in his throat, grinding his teeth and struggling against his brother’s weight and stranglehold.

“You wanna come? Huh? Then you know what to do…”

Sam undulates against the fucking dildo, desperate to get off without giving in to his brother’s blackmail.

“Go to hell.”

“Wrong answer.”

And Dean is gripping the base of his swollen cock tight, straddling his hips so he can’t arch up and Sam is twisting and whimpering and just… going out of his mind. All Dean wants is to fix this, God he needs to fix this, so bad. But how can he do it if he doesn’t even know what’s wrong? Dean presses his face against Sam’s and hisses with all the desperation tearing him apart. This isn’t fun anymore.

“Please, I’m begging you Sammy… please…”

Sam sobs then. Biting his lip doesn’t work anymore. It's in this moment that Dean lets go of his wrists and pulls out the toy completely sending it clanging to the floor. Dean lets his weight fall onto his little brother and just… breathes. More like wheezes. Sam should object on behalf of his ribs but he doesn’t. Hell he should kick his lame ass brother out of his bed on principle alone but he doesn’t. Instead he holds his brother’s head resting on his shoulder in quivering hands, and lets the tears fall.


Dean goes deathly still. “What?”

“I saw dad.”

Dean looks up at him, his own face petrified. “Why?”

Sam’s voice is a wet, pained whisper because this is what he never wanted to come out but now it has and he can’t ever take it back.

“Because you love him more than you love me.”


“You know it's true. You’d die for him. You never question him. And the day he finds out… about us…”

He’s going to kill me. And you’re going to let him.

“…he will order you to end it. And you will.”

Now Dean is the one who doesn’t want to hear anymore. He props himself up and away from his brother and swallows hard. That is the big question isn’t it? What happens when dad finds out?

When the illusion changed, the clown morphed into a larger than life form of John Winchester. A pissed off John Winchester who blamed Sam for destroying his trust, ruining their family and defiling his golden boy Dean, marking him for straight-to-hell. In his nightmare, John was furious enough to want to beat him to death with his bare hands but what made it worse, so much worse was Dean… a beautiful, gorgeous vision of Dean who just stood there… right there beside John and did nothing. Said nothing.

Dean would never cross dad, and if it came down to making a choice… Sam knows he’s never going to choose his incestuous lover over their father. Dean was right, he is a big part of Sam’s nightmare.

But Dean doesn’t need to know that.

Dean is silent for a long time, long enough to make Sam think this is it. This is the end. He looks into his brother’s face… all that perfection despite his funny expressions, despite the deep-rooted sadness that’s always lurking behind sea green eyes. Sam sits up, shuddering with the very fear that started all this hell.



“Say something.”

Dean looks at him then. “Great now you wanna talk?”

But he didn’t mean it to be harsh, didn’t intend for his Sammy’s face to crumple with such anguish that breaks his hunter’s heart.

“Ah shit. We’re so messed up Sammy, you and me.”

Strong arms engulf Sam’s slender form and he goes willingly where he is stroked and petted and kissed in that desperate dying man’s way. Sam always knew his brother would be great at apologies if he ever willingly made one. Dean rubs his back in long, languid strokes.

“I don’t care if it's wrong or right or whatever… anti-establishment remember?”

Sam gulps hard, but is unable to form words.

“There’s only one person who can ever make me quit you Sammy. You.”

“But… what about…”

Dean shakes his head. “Only you.”

There is no merit in letting Sam complete that question because fact is, Dean doesn’t have an answer himself. Of course he’s wondered a million times himself, only to play ostrich in his head and pretend like nothing’s wrong. He doesn’t know what they’d do when dad finds out and he doesn’t even wanna think about it. He’s worried too. And he’s scared, God he’s scared.

But Sam doesn’t need to know that.

Shushes him softly, knows Sam could just burst into tears of relief any moment now and that would just be awkward… –er.

“Hey… I don’t know about you…”

Cradles him back to the bed and spreads his legs open again.

“… but these candles will never forgive me if I let them burn out without fucking you at least once.”

Sam’s head falls back and he really shouldn’t be feeling so hot and bothered already but he does… God he’s easy. He really shouldn’t quit brooding all so soon because yeah, while Dean’s words do make him feel better, they don’t resolve the core issue of dad.

Ack, to hell with it.

Dean’s here now. It's been three months and he’s still here and they’ve gotten pretty good at stealth after all these years right? Sam winces at the irony of it all – using dad’s training against dad himself. John never has to know. Ever.

Sam stows away his fears and doubts for another day and lets Dean see him softly smile. Wraps both arms and legs around his lover, driving him deeper and tighter inside himself, and at last everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be. They find release soon enough, one that’s more emotional than sexual and long overdue for both of them.

Dean falls to the bed by his side groaning in happy exhaustion. Eventually they settle into their usual spooning position, Sam resting against his brother and Dean encircling him from behind, so freakin’ protective even in his sleep. Sam grins, wiggles his ass against Dean’s semi-hard member until Dean sighs and inserts himself back inside his insatiable little brother. Sam traps a thumb from Dean’s hand within his lips and now he’s ready to sleep.



“No nightmares.”

It's how the Winchesters bid each other good night. Sweet dreams never really works for them. Dean tightens his arms around Sam and kisses a bony shoulder.

“You bet, little brother. You bet.”

****** END ******

A/N: Okay so it got sappier than I intended. My stories always run away from me, good thing I dont write for a living yeah *g* Anyway, tell me what you think? Please?

Tags: fandom: supernatural, fic: spn: of fears and nightmares

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