It's hot. Too fucking hot. I can't breathe. I try to suck in a breath but it hurts. Everything hurts. He's heavy. So heavy I can't breathe. It's hot. He's hot. I can feel his sweat against my skin. I want it off. I want him off. But I can't do anything. I can't move, I can't breathe. Fuck! It's so fucking hot.

He says something to me but I can't hear him. All I can hear is my heart beating twice as fast as I think it should. It's so loud. I can't hear him but I don't think it matters. He doesn't do anything different. He just keeps going. And, Fuck, I can't breathe.

His hands are all over me, touching, groping, petting. I feel them everywhere. It's like he has more than two arms and it makes me want to scream and squirm away. But I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't scream.

He says my name. I can hear that one. It's hot and urgent. His breath runs across my face like a spider. I want to scratch it off. I can't move. Then he says something that makes me freeze.

"I know what you did, Sam." His voice is low and mocking. But he's angry. I know he is. It becomes harder to breathe and now I don't know whether it's him or me making it so.

"I know what you did, Sam." He repeats, somehow lower than the last time. "And you know what that means... Don't you?"

I try to apologise. I try to scream. I try to get away from him. I try to please him. I don't know what to do. I want to do so many things but I can't do any of them. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe and it's so hot. I feel like I'm suffocating.

He says my name over and over again. I feel his hands everywhere. Its like he's mocking me. He's doing everything I can't. I want to hit him. I want to ask him for help. I want to cry. I want to cling to him. I don't know what the Fuck to do. J just want to breathe. Why can't I breathe. Stop touching me. Stop touching ne. Stop. Touching. Me.

Please.

I'm sorry.

Sam.

I don't want to go back.

Sam.

I'm sorry.

I know what you did Sam.

I'm so sorry.

Sam.

I'm sorry.

Sam.

I didn't mean to.

Sam.

I'm sorry.

Sam.

Please.

"Sam!"

And then, all at once, I can breathe. I've never felt anything so amazing in my life. I heave in several breaths and my chest finally begins to loosen. As the pain subsides, I find I can move again. It hurts a little, but I've never been so relieved to be able to move my arms that I don't even care. I let out a breath, enjoying the fact that I can but as I open my eyes, the relief vanishes.

I'm in my room. Okay. It's still dark outside. Okay. My bedroom light it on. Okay. Dean isn't beside me. Okay. No. Not okay. No. He's by the door, staring at me in alarm. He's bleeding. His face is scratched. He's bleeding. He's hurt. Me. I did that. I hurt him.

I want to go to him, but it's a pair of hands on my shoulders that stop me. On shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"You're okay, Sammy." It's Dad. He looks tired and stressed and maybe even a little bit scared, and unfortunately, I know why. I'm sweating. My t-shirt is sticky and stuck to my chest and my hair is damp, stuck to my forehead. I'm still not breathing quite right. It's like my lungs need to work twice as hard to suck in the oxygen that I felt like I wasn't getting when I was asleep. I probably look like absolute shit. Does that really make me okay?

"It was just a dream," He says, but he and I both know that that's not the case. It was so much more than a dream. I don't know what I did in my sleep, but it was enough to hurt Dean and wake up my parents. Mum stands at the door with Dean, numbly holding a wet towel. I don't know if it was supposed to be for me or Dean, but now it just hangs limply in her hand as she stares at me with horror. Horror. What ever I was doing was enough to make her look at me like I'm a completely different person. And I guess it's because I am. Because everyone knows that my dream wasn't purely a dream.

I don't know what to do. They all just stare at me like I'm an alien invading their youngest sons body. I know it's because they don't know what to do either. And I can't help them. I can't tell them what to do with me, because I don't even know what to do with me. How can I help them if I don't know how to help myself?

Dad's hands hover near me, like he wants to touch me but at the same time he doesn't. Or he doesn't know how, or something. I don't know. Fuck, I don't know.

"Do you-," He cuts himself off, then opens his mouth to continue but closes it again without saying anything else. He looks… lost. They all do really. His hand still hovers over me, reaching out to touch my head before quickly pulling it back. He tries for my shoulder, but the same thing happens. He doesn't want to touch me. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know if he should or shouldn't. And what's worse is I don't know if I want him to or not. I want him to hold me and tell me again that everything's okay. I want him to tell me that over and over and over again until maybe I start to believe it. But I also don't. I don't want him to touch me. I want him to get the hell away from me. I want to push him off my bed and I want to scream. I don't want anybody to touch me ever again. Fuck. I hate this.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I really know what to say. I mean, I am sorry. I'm sorry for waking them up. I'm sorry for hurting Dean. I'm sorry for making things so hard for them, for being such a fucking idiot, for going missing in the fucking first place. I'm just fucking sorry.

I had hoped it would make them happy. I'd hoped it would settle everything down at least for a little while. But I also had it in the back of my head that it would make them angry. I know Dean doesn't like it. He's told me specifically to stop apologising. I can only assume it annoys everyone else just as much but I don't know what else to say. Instead, for some reason this seems to have the opposite effect on everyone. Mum bursts out in tears, her loud sobs can be heard as she flees my room until she locks herself in her own room or the bathroom or something. Dad looks just as close to crying. I can practically see the tears in his eyes and his whole posture changes. He just kind of crumbles. I don't know why. What did I say that made them react like that? Dean just continues to stare at me from the door but it's like he's thinking about something else entirely. It's like he's just staring off into space. Maybe he'll know what I did. Maybe he'll tell me.

"Oh, Sam." Dad mutters, finally letting his hand make contact with my cheek. It's cold and I want to pull my head away, but I don't. I don't want to. How is that possible?

His hand moves to brush my hair back from my face. He has to do it a few times before all the hair becomes unstuck from the sweat there. Even when he's done though, he still runs his hand through my hair, just looking at me. I wish he'd say something. I wish he'd stop touching me. I wish he'd never stop.

"Here." He says removing his hand from my hair with a small smile on his face like he's trying to pretend everything's okay for my benefit.

And that's when things really turn to shit.

His hands move to my chest, pulling at my shirt that's still stuck there. It's cooling now though and feels horrible and disgusting, and that's when I realise what he's trying to do.

I panic.

I feel my whole body tense up and my hands automatically move to pull his hands away. He looks confused for a second before trying again with the same outcome.

"Sam, you can't sleep in this." Dad sighs, attempting to pull my shirt up again with an added determination. No. No, no, no. I can't do this. This can't happen. No.

His hands are all over me, touching, groping, petting. I feel them everywhere. It's like he has more than two arms and it makes me want to scream and squirm away. But I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't scream.

My head feels like it's going to explode and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't do this again. I can't. Fuck, I can't breathe.

This time, at least I'm able to move. And move I do. I push against him, trying to knock his hands away and trying to get him to let go of my shirt but the more I fight, the more determined he becomes. The more angry he gets.

"Stop it, Sam." He growls.

"Stop it, Sam." He growls, a harsh back hand to my face almost knock me off the bed but he grabs a hold of my t-shirt and positions me the way he wants like a fucking malleable doll. "Don't be stupid. You've done it before."

I'm crying. I don't want to, I know it'll get me hit again, but I can't help it. There's this weird ball of fear in my stomach that makes my head pound and my fingers tingle. My stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I know I've done this before. I fucking know. It doesn't mean it makes it any less scary. Now I know what I don't want to do. Now I know the pain. Now I'm no longer scared of what I don't know, but of what I do know. And I know I don't want to do it again. But he doesn't get that. Of course he doesn't.

I just want to go home.

"Dad." Dean says forcefully, somehow miraculously ending up beside me. He reaches over and, being way stronger than I am, manages to easily take Dad's hands in his and as soon as I'm free, I scamper into the corner of my bed, my back against the headboard and my knees pulled tightly against my chest. Dean's muttering something quietly and at first I think that he's talking to me, but when I look over at them I see that he's talking to Dad and that Dad's body is shaking awkwardly. He's crying. My Dad is crying.

Did I do that?

Dads head falls against Dean's chest and I hear him sob against him. Dean just stands there, his hands on Dads shoulders, looking lost. Maybe this is also the first time that he's seen Dad cry. Because Dad doesn't cry. He just doesn't. But he is now. He's crying because… because… I don't know. I don't know if it was the dream or the fact that I said that I was sorry. I mean, that apparently made Mum cry. Or was it the fact that I wouldn't let him take off my shirt? I don't know. But I know it was me. What ever it was, it was because of me.

They sit like that for a while before Dean convinces Dad to go back to bed with Mum. Dad doesn't even look at me as he leaves. He just nods at Dean and walks lethargically out of the room. Dean watches him go and continues to stare after him for a moment or so before he looks back at me. He's still got that look in his eyes. The one that looks like his mind's in a completely different place. It's a bit scary. I've never seen Dean like this.

"Are you okay?" He asks, continuing to stand in the middle of my room. He crosses his arms across his chest and sort of hunches over protectively. What did I do in my sleep to make him so scared of me? I mean, besides scratching his face up.

"I'm sorry." I reply, wondering what he was doing to get himself scratched by me. Was he just sleeping soundlessly beside me? Or was he trying to help me?

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and when he opens his eyes again I can see the anger fading away. He was controlling himself. Because I apologised?

"Stop apologising, Sam." He tells me seriously, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'm sorry-, I-I mean… I…" I stammer trying to think of a response. "But I am… I am sorry."

Dean sighs frustratedly and sits down on the edge of my bed where Dad had been. He rubs his hands over his face but winces and pulls them away when he rubs the fresh scratches on his cheek. He sighs again, staring off into the corner of my room for a moment. I can see his brain thinking. I can see the thoughts going around and around in his head and it's moments like these that I wish I was able to read him the same way he can read me. I want to help him and if the roles were reversed, he'd know exactly what to say. Right now, though, the only thing I can think to do is apologise for making him frustrated, and I know that's the last thing he wants to hear.

He turns to look at me and I can see his train of thought change. His eyes turn softer while his body seems to tense up and again I wish I knew what he was thinking. What's he thinking about now? What about me makes people look at me like that?

"What were you dreaming about?" He asks softly, his eyes searching my face. I kind of get the feeling that he already knows what my dream was about, but I don't call him out about it.

You wouldn't.

Instead I shrug. It's a bullshit reply, I know. But what am I supposed to say to that? I can't come right out and tell him about it. I can't lie because he'd know for sure. A shrug is safe.

Of course it only makes him frown and he does that staring thing again. I can't look at him anymore so I stare at my covers, hoping he'll accept my answer and move on. And like the mind reading brother he is, he doesn't say anything more on the topic. He also seems to understand that there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to get back to sleep. Instead, he turns off my light and we just sit there in silence. I think he falls asleep a couple of hours later, him awkwardly hunched against the wall, his head rolling onto his shoulder. He looks really uncomfortable but he's snoring softly and kind of drooling a little so I don't do anything about it. I just watch him sleep, wishing I could do the same. I can't though. I'm not like him.

I'm not like any of them.

And I never will be.

It's moments like these that remind me just how much I've missed, just how much I'm different from what I would have been had I not disappeared. Even after witnessing me freaking out, they're all still able to go back to sleep. No matter how tired I am I know I couldn't fall asleep. Every time I close my eyes I can see him. Hell, I can still feel him. I still feel his hands, his breath, his sweat. I can smell him. It's like he's standing right beside me and he's not even here. Will it always be like this? Will I always feel him here? Will I always see him in my dreams? Will I still be thinking about him ten years from now? Will he fever go away?

I don't know when I started crying, but the salty taste of tears alerts me to the tracks of tears silently rolling down my cheeks. But I stay quiet. I can't wake up Dean.


UGHHH! This chapter is sooooo shiiiiittt! I'm so sorry that it's so bad. I had no idea what to do here and I'm really struggling but i wanted to update this story. Even a shit chapter is better than nothing... right? RIGHT? UGHH it's also a nothing chapter too really. Nothing happens in it but at least it's somthing.

I hope i haven't lost you all because i haven't updated in so long!

Thanks

Dragons-without-fire xx