To Sleep, Perhance to Hunt

“So get this,” Sam said, turning his laptop around so Dean could see the screen. A newspaper article from a town called Sleepy Hollow was highlighted explaining a gruesome suicide that had recently occurred. “Got a call from Bobby about this one. Apparently, the jumper’s eyes had turned to white sand.”

“White sand?” Dean asked, skimming through the article. “What kind of monster does that? It’s nothing I’ve ever heard before.”

“Bobby thinks its some sort of Sandman monster,” Sam explained, pulling his laptop back and studying the article again. The name of the town bugged him though Sam couldn’t have said why. “I think we need to check it out. It’s definitely weird enough for us and I’m getting deja vu about the name of the town.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused. “I know we’ve never been on a job in Sleepy Hollow.”

“I know, man, but still,” Sam argued, shrugging and closing his computer. “I feel like I’ve heard the name before. Either way, we should go.”

“Fine, fine,” Dean said, throwing up his hands and standing up. He started packing the few things he’d strewn about the small motel room they were staying in. “It’s a good thing we finished up this job. I’d hate to leave vamps running around a town like this.”

Sam nodded distractedly, mulling over the case as he packed his laptop away. He had been packed since he’d showered this morning. While Dean tended to throw his things all over, Sam was more of a fanatic about things being in order. It never took him nearly as long as it took Dean to pack up. Though, to be fair to his older brother, they both packed extremely quickly. A life on the road would teach you how to do that.

The trip to Sleepy Hollow took about eight hours, half of which Sam spent sleeping. While he was used to getting up early, that didn’t mean he’d gotten all that much sleep the night before. And his shoulder had been bothering him. One of the vampires had thrown him into a wall during the hunt. While it hadn’t quite dislocated his shoulder, there was a spectacular bruise covering it and his upper arm. Once they made it to Sleepy Hollow, Dean pulled into the first motel they ran across that looked functional and booked a room.

“So, FBI this time?” Dean asked, pulling out the simple black suit that he wore when masquerading as the FBI.

“Seems best,” Sam answered distractedly, pulling out his laptop to see if there were any new articles. There were no new bodies though there was a statement from the local police. A Captain Irving was giving the usual comments about being calm and that they had their best people on the case. There was no explanation for the eyes turning to sand, no mention of it at all. But, there was a name attached to the case: Lieutenant Abbie Mills. That would be the place to start. “We should talk to this Abbie Mills. She’s lead and is probably in way over her head. You want the morgue or the cop?”

“There a picture of her?” Dean asked, looking up in interest. When Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes, Dean shrugged. “Eh, I took the last body. It’s your turn. I’ll take the cop.”

Sam shut his computer again and pulled out his own suit while Dean changed. He wasn’t all that excited about going to the morgue but at least he hadn’t had to do the last one. The vamps were particularly messy eaters. This monster just messed with the victim’s eyes before they committed suicide. When Dean was done in the bathroom, pulling at his collar as he walked out, Sam took his place. He changed quickly, not wanting to be left behind if Dean got impatient. It had happened before and Sam was not in the mood for walking. It would be just the type of prank Dean would pull. But when he walked out of the bathroom, Dean was still there. He was playing with a hunting knife with sheer impatience, true, but he hadn’t left.

“What took you so damn long, Sammy?” Dean griped, grinning. He put the hunting knife away then clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Gonna start acting like a girl?”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam snapped, though there was an answering smile on his face.

“Bitch,” Dean said, leading the way out to the car. It was their version of I love you, there version of We’re family and it worked for them. Dean drove to the hospital first, dropping Sam off at the morgue before heading to the police department. He brandished his FBI badge at the receptionist and was shown immediately to Captain Irving’s office. The captain was sitting behind a pile of paperwork, an obviously annoyed expression on his face. Dean showed his badge again, introducing himself.

“We didn’t call the FBI,” Captain Irving said after Dean sat down. “What are you doing here, Agent Block?”

“No one called us,” Dean said smoothly. “My partner and I are part of a... shall we say unconventional department in the Bureau. We investigate strange things, unexplainable things. Such as suicides whose eyes turned to sand after death. What can you tell me about the case?”

“Well, there’s been one so far. She asked for one of my lieutenants, an Abbie Mills, before she died,” Captain Irving explained. He was somewhat grateful for the respite from paperwork so treated Dean with little annoyance. “Abbie couldn’t talk her down and she jumped. The white eyes happened before death and, when one of the doctors was examining her, they turned to sand. Definitely strange and unexplainable. At least so far. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of it.”

“Usually there is,” Dean agreed, nodding. “Do you have the case file or do I need to speak with Lieutenant Mills?”

“How about both,” Captain Irving replied, pulling out a case file and picking up his phone. He called Abbie in and handed her the file. “I’d like you to make a copy of this, Abbie, and give it to Agent Block here. He and his partner are going to be working with you and Crane on this.”

“Sir, I don’t think I need help,” Abbie argued, taking the file. “Crane and I can handle this on our own.”

“You don’t have that choice,” Captain Irving told her, shaking his head. “You will work together on this. I don’t want any more suicides.”

“Yes sir,” Abbie said, gesturing for Dean to follow her. She made the copies quickly, handing them to Dean before walking the file back to Captain Irving. Dean sat down at an empty desk and read through it quickly. There was little more than had been included in the newspaper article, though it did say the woman was a psychiatrist. Also that her last words were it was her fault.

“Do you have any idea what’s doing this?” Dean asked, pointing to the file when Abbie came back.

“Not really, no,” Abbie replied dryly, shaking her head. She thought about mentioning the dream she’d had about the woman but who would believe her? Certainly not the FBI. “What exactly do you do that you were sent out here for this?”

“Well, like I told your captain, my partner and I deal with strange or unexplainable cases,” Dean replied, shutting the file. It had told him everything he was going to learn. Though perhaps Abbie might be able to tell him more. He’d learned to read people very well, especially those who had secrets. And Abbie seemed to be keeping one. “Is there anything more you can tell? Things that might not have made it into the file? Maybe things you think wouldn’t be believed?”

“Perhaps,” Abbie said slowly, studying Dean closely. He appeared genuinely interested in what she had to say. Maybe he could be more help than she previously thought. “Tell me, what do you think about... dreams? Prophetic ones? And demons.”

“I think a lot of things are possible that most people wouldn’t believe,” Dean replied, whole body going tense at the mention of demons. If that’s what was going on here, maybe he should call Castiel. They might need the smiting ability the angel possessed. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story?”

“Not here,” Abbie said, looking up at a particularly loud burst of conversation. A couple officers had come in with a crying woman. “I need to get my partner and we should go somewhere quieter. Somewhere I won’t be overheard. I’m already considered the loony in the department.”

“I’m sure there’s a story behind that,” Dean said wryly, following when Abbie started walking. He pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Sam, hoping that he was finished with the body. “We can pick up my partner at the same time. That way, everyone can hear the whole story all at once.”

“Fine,” Abbie replied, pulling out one of her cards and writing on it. “There’s a coffee place here. Meet my partner and I here when you pick up yours.”

Dean took the card and nodded, tucking it into his pocket. He got into his car and drove back to the hospital, seeing Sam waiting outside. The younger Winchester was standing impatiently by the entrance and started towards the Impala as soon as he saw it. He settled himself in the car, sighing. He had been right about the body, it was cleaner than the last ones. Yet there was nothing to be gained by studying it, nothing that told him what might be doing this.

“So, we’re meeting Lieutenant Mills and her partner at a coffee place,” Dean explained, pulling back onto the street. “She mentioned prophetic dreams and demons, so this is definitely our case. Unless she’s crazy.”

“Right,” Sam drawled, dropping his head back onto the headrest. Just what they needed, a crazy person. “Who’s her partner?”

“Someone named Crane,” Dean shrugged. The drive to the coffee place was quick as it wasn’t that far from the hospital. There was a police cruiser in the parking lot so Abbie and her partner were here already. Though the rest of the parking lot was empty. Apparently, this coffee place wasn’t all that popular. They headed inside and Abbie waved. Dean and Sam took the two empty seats at the table, nodding at Abbie and the man sitting next to her.

“This is my partner, Agent Kane,” Dean said, introducing Sam.

“And my partner, Ichabod Crane,” Abbie said, gesturing at the man. He had shoulder length hair similar to Sam’s and was wearing old style clothing. “Ichabod this is Agent Block.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ichabod said, reaching across the table to shake Sam and Dean’s hands. Sam tilted his head at his name, the sense of deja vu overtaking him again. Part of him felt like he should know the name. Yet, he was just as sure he’d never heard it before.

“You mentioned demons,” Dean said once the pleasantries were over. “Care to explain?”

“Well, I guess my story started when I was a little girl,” Abbie said, explaining her meeting with the demon in the forest and moving to being introduced to Ichabod Crane. She held nothing back after seeing how both men reacted to her story. Namely, calmly and as if they knew exactly what she was talking about. “And now, I had a dream about the psychiatrist before she died. Even down to the white eyes. So, what do you think? Care to deal with a case that might herald the end of the world?”

“Well, we’ve had our own experiences with the Apocalypse,” Dean said wryly, glancing at Sam. Sam just shook his head, not wanting to remember that. Or his time in Hell. “Since you’ve leveled with us, we’ll tell you the truth. We’re hunters. We deal with demons and monsters and things that go bump in the night. Usually, local police are in way over their heads. We come in, kill the murderous son of a bitch, then head our merry way.”

“Okay,” Abbie replied doubtfully, looking from Sam to Dean and back again. “So what do we do now? I don’t even know what is doing this.”

“I need to do some research. A friend of ours said he might know what it is,” Sam said, shrugging. “Once we know what it is, we can kill it. We just need some time.”

“Time is what we have right now,” Ichabod said thoughtfully. “I have heard of nothing like this and I’ve had no advice from my wife, Katrina.”

“That’s settled then,” Dean said, standing up. “We find anything, we’ll let you know. Long as you do the same.”

Abbie nodded and left the coffee shop with Ichabod. Sam and Dean walked out to the Impala after Sam ordered a latte. They were silent on the drive back, Led Zeppelin blaring from the speakers. As soon as they made it back to the motel, Dean stripped out of the FBI suit and changed back into jeans and a t-shirt. Sam didn’t particularly care about the suit, merely took the jacket off before pulling out his laptop. They’d dealt with creatures that affected dreams before but the white eyes were new. He would research as much as he could before calling Bobby back.

Sam researched for hours while Dean channel-surfed and offered suggestions here and there. The problem wasn’t lack of information, for once, but far too much. There was a ton of lore on things that affected dreams and dreams themselves. Yet nothing turned eyes into sand. Around one am, Sam finally gave up and flopped onto his bed. Dean had fallen asleep about an hour before, his snores coming from the other bed. Hopefully tomorrow, after a night of rest, Sam might have a new idea to follow.

Unfortunately, the morning started with another case. Abbie had been called out to another man threatening suicide who would only talk to him. Before he shot himself, he gave her more information about what was doing all this. A pounding on the door woke Sam up out of a sound sleep.

“What the hell?” Sam grumbled, getting up to open the door. He blinked sleepily at Abbie until he realized there was really only one reason she would be here. “Another body?”

“Yeah, and he mentioned a demon,” Abbie said, slipping inside with Ichabod following her. Sam closed the door and woke Dean up by the simple expedient of shaking his shoulder. Once both Winchesters were fully awake, Abbie explained everything that had happened.

“I found too much last night about dreams and monsters that affect dreams,” Sam said once Abbie was finished. He yawned, hiding it behind a hand. “But our friend should know. Let me call him.”

While Sam sat on his bed to call Bobby, Dean left Ichabod and Abbie to get dressed. Once he was done, Sam was still on the phone so Dean went out to the Impala for some supplies. Since dreams seemed to be integral to this case, some African dream root wouldn’t go amiss. Since everyone had mentioned demons, Dean grabbed some salt and holy water along with the demon-killing knife. After all, you could never be too prepared in his line of work. When Dean went back inside and closed the door, Sam was saying goodbye to Bobby and hanging up the phone.

“Bobby know what it is?” Dean asked, setting the stuff on his bed.

“Yeah, he thinks so,” Sam replied, shaking his head. The stuff they hunted was crazy sometimes. “He says its a Native American demon. Specifically, a Mohawk sleep demon that’s called the Sandman. It goes after people who feel guilty over something. And the only way Bobby knows that might kill it is to go into dreams and face it there. But we need to go into the dreams of someone its hunting.”

“That would be me,” Abbie said wryly, raising a hand as she shared a glance with Ichabod. The things she did on the job. “I’ve dreamt about it before. I know its coming for me. I’ve got something in my past I feel guilty about.”

“Then we just need to brew tea with the African dream root and head into your dreams,” Dean said, picking up the root. “Did Bobby say exactly how we kill it?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, sighing. “But he seems to think that while we’ll be in its realm, it will have a weakness. Maybe stab it with the knife?”

“Seems like the way to go,” Dean said. “So, you and me, Sammy?”

“I would like to be involved as well,” Ichabod cut in, a determined look on his face. “I feel that I can be of some help and I’ve become fond of Lieutenant Mills. Besides, she’s the only one here who believes me about being from the past.”

“Three cups it is then,” Dean said after exchanging a quick look with Sam. More people couldn’t hurt. Luckily, the motel room they’d gotten had a small kitchenette attached to it. Dean ran hot water and threw the root into two cups. He wished they could add honey or sugar or something since the tea tasted nasty but that would negate the effects. When the tea was done steeping in four glasses, Dean set them on the table and pulled three hairs from Abbie’s head. She hissed and batted at his hand but Dean was already dropping the hair into three of the glasses.

“We need some of you to get into your head,” Dean explained, shrugging. He picked up the glass without hair and handed it to Abbie “Here, this one’s for you. Bottom’s up. You may want to lie down before you drink it. It kicks in fast.”

Abbie nodded, settling down onto the ground before taking a drink. It tasted horrible but she managed to choke it down. Immediately, she felt tired and laid down. The glass rolled away from her slack hand and Abbie fell into a deep sleep. Dean handed out the other glasses. Sam laid down on his bed while Dean took the other. Ichabod sat next to Abbie and all three drank down their glasses. Immediately, they fell asleep and found themselves in the police station. Abbie was sitting at her desk, looking around curiously.

“So, we’re all in my head right now?” she asked, picking up and examining items from her desk. “What do we do now?”

“Yes and I guess we wait,” Sam said, settling into a chair at one of the other desks. “From what Bobby told me, this demon will find you.”

“Hello Dean,” a man’s voice said suddenly. Everyone jumped and Dean spun to look behind him. A man in a tan trenchcoat was standing there, staring at Dean.

“Dean, what is your angel boyfriend doing here?” Sam asked, exasperated. “He wasn’t there, didn’t drink any of the tea.”

“I think this is a memory,” Dean said thoughtfully, studying Cas. There was something about his expression, something sly and knowing, that reminded Dean of the time Cas had given him information he shouldn’t have. “I was thinking about him and how it might’ve been helpful to have an angel here. I drank the dream root so I can control elements of Abbie’s dream.”

Dean completely sidestepped the angel boyfriend comment, still slightly uncomfortable with Sam knowing. He concentrated for a moment and Castiel winked out of existence. He turned to the others, not at all surprised to see shock on Abbie’s and Ichabod’s faces.

“That was an angel?” Abbie asked, laughing. “He looked like a tax accountant. I think you guys might have been duped.”

“You know, I said the same thing about him and that suit,” Dean replied, shaking his head and smiling. “But yeah, that was an angel. He’s using a man as a vessel because, without one, he can’t speak to humans without their heads exploding or something.”

Abbie opened her mouth to reply but caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning quickly, Abbie saw the demon. It merely watched her, standing out in the open. She jumped up and ran after it, not waiting or explaining. Ichabod followed with Sam and Dean just a few steps behind. The demon led them toward the interrogation rooms where voices emanated. There was a male voice and a young girl’s voice. Abbie stopped outside the window and saw the demon inside. It was interrogating two girls, nearly yelling at them trying to get the other to speak.

“This is it,” Abbie whispered, eyes going wide as she saw herself and her sister. This was one of her worst memories, the time she’d turned on her sister to save herself. “This is why its coming after me.”

“What did you see, Abbie?” the demon asked, staring at the adult Abbie through the glass. She merely shook her head and backed up. The demon wore a satisfied look as it threw sand in her eyes. Then it turned back to the younger Abbie and her sister, haranguing her about what she’d seen. Finally, the younger Abbie said that she’d seen nothing, just a bunch of trees.

“It’s all my fault,” the adult Abbie said, looking around wildly. Her eyes had turned white. “I saw nothing, I told her to say we saw nothing.”

“Abbie, listen to me,” Dean said urgently, acting on a hunch. “You need to admit that you saw the demon. You need to back up your sister and purge the guilt you’re feeling. That’s the only way it’ll
save you.”

While Dean talked to Abbie, Sam concentrated and the demon-killing knife appeared in his hand. He ran into the interrogation room and attacked the demon, plunging the knife into its back. To his surprise, nothing happened. It merely turned and slammed an arm into him. Sam flew across the room, hitting the wall and slumping down. Blood trickled from the side of his head as his eyes fluttered closed. Ichabod ran for the demon. He pulled the knife out and struck at where he hoped the demon’s heart might be. Again, nothing happened and the demon struck Ichabod as well. He hit the wall and slid down, groaning feebly.

“I can’t do it,” Abbie said while the demon continued to yell at her younger self and her sister. “I told her, I did. I know what I saw but I can’t say it.”

“Abbie, you need to,” Dean persisted, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. “Say what you saw. Do it!”

“All right!” Abbie finally exclaimed, tears running down her cheeks. She stepped away from Dean and faced the demon. “I saw four white trees and a demon that day. I saw everything my sister said she saw. It was real. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Dean watched as the white faded from Abbie’s eyes. They were normal again. But the demon was growling, moving towards Abbie with hands outstretched. As he moved, his body started to change. Spreading from his feet upward, the demon turned clear and crystalline. As it turned, the demon slowed until finally it was frozen. Abbie picked up one of the chairs and slammed it into the demon. It shattered like glass, pieces flying everywhere. With a start, they all woke up. Dean shot up out of bed and checked on Sam, who was grumbling and feeling through his hair. He wasn’t bleeding but he had a large knot on the side of his head from where he’d hit the wall in Abbie’s dream. Ichabod was doing the same, grimacing at the pain as his fingers brushed over it.

“Is that it?” Abbie asked, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. They felt gritty but, other than that, she felt completely fine. “Is it over?”

“Yeah, I think you killed it,” Dean said, grinning at her. He clapped Sam on the shoulder then went over to give Abbie a hand to her feet. “Good job. You might make a good hunter, you know.”

“Thanks but I think I’ll stick with being a police officer,” Abbie said wryly. “I have enough on my plate right now.”

“And if you need a hand again, I’ll leave my number,” Dean said, pulling out one of his fake business cards and writing on the back of it. “You can leave a message anytime and we’ll do our best to help.”

“Thanks,” Abbie repeated, pocketing the card. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now I need to figure out how I’m going to write this up. I can’t exactly say I defeated a dream demon.”

“Good luck with that,” Dean answered wryly, sharing a grin with her. Abbie and Ichabod let themselves out, Ichabod walking slowly. He’d hit the wall rather hard and still felt wobbly. With the hunt over, Dean and Sam packed their things and headed out of town. Though both had a feeling they would be coming back.