My Reality - Part 2

SN Crossover Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by Happygoddess2003. We hope you enjoy! Please leave your thoughts and comments! We own nothing Supernatural. Hailstorm3 owns Libby!

Summary from Part 1 (you can also read it under my stories if you would like to): 12 year old Libby finds herself in Walnut Grove with the Ingalls' family. She learns about their way of life, but most importantly she learns what it means to be part of a family and to be loved. She begins having dreams of herself, tied up in a cave, with a tatooed creature that lights up with blue hands keeping watch on her. She is unable to make sense of these dreams that keep interfering on her happiness.

~ LIBBY ~

I feel a hand on my cheek, sliding down to my neck. Fingers pinching something (pulling something?) from my neck, then pressing firmly.

"Dean, I've got a pulse, she's alive!"

Lifted. I'm being lifted in the air. I'm floating… (Flying? No, stupid, people can't fly… being carried? By who? Where am I? Where's my family? Where are Albert and Carrie and my newfound parents? I want them.)

I try to speak, sucking in a breath, but nothing comes out. My eyes try to open but they won't work right. (Why can't I talk? See? What the hell is going? I'm so cold.)

I hear a horrible wheezing sound and realize it's me. "Shhh, don't try to talk. You're gonna' be okay. You're safe now." A hand meant to comfort me comes up to hold my head. I flinch away in his arms. "Okay, okay, you're safe. You're fine. Close your eyes, little girl, it's gonna be okay." (Really? Things are definitely NOT okay. Strangers are carting me off to God knows where. Stealing me from the one place I found true happiness, a real family. The one thing I always wanted was given to me and now I am being torn from it.)

I feel my mind begin to unravel. I try to fight against it – to push all the fear and sadness back down inside me. It was just too much, or maybe I was just so full of fear and sadness that there was nowhere left inside me to put it. I give up the fight and let myself unravel. Images of Mr. and Mrs. Ingalls, Albert, and Carrie flashed through my head. Mr. Gaines/Tattooed Blue Guy was there, too. Grandma. Oh, God, Mom and Dad. The new people who were just voices to me were there, too, inside my head. I went back and back and back in time in my mind, re-living all the hurt and torment I'd endured in my short life. (How is this fair? Why is this happening? How much does one person have to take? I hate you, God. I hate you.)

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

I can smell leather, and there's a steady roll underneath me (I must be in a car. Yes, it's a car. With who? Why? Kidnapped – I'm being kidnapped? Oh, God – I knew it. I knew it wouldn't last, being happy. I never get to be happy. How did I get from Walnut Grove to THIS PLACE? I'm going crazy. That's it. I've lost my mind, finally - broken beyond all repair and now, kidnapped. Unable to fight the thoughts that crashed into my mind, I decide to settle into my safe place down deep inside myself – there were no thoughts here.)

I jolted at the sound of the car door opening and the sound of male voices. I shrunk back into the seat as far as I could. I was so weak. I smelled. I could smell myself. I had blood on my shirt and it hurt to move my arms. My hair stuck to the back of my head, clotted with knots of blood. My neck hurt.

Two men stood at the door opening. My eyes tried to focus, but they blurred in and out. One was taller than the other and had longer hair. I heard short hair speak. At least my ears were working. I wish they weren't.

"You try and talk to the kid while I fill up Baby. Shit, Sam – what are we doing? We can't have a blood-drained little girl in the back seat! We should drop her at the nearest hospital and be done with her."

"Hold up, Dean. I want to talk to her. She was in there a long time – that Djinn was taking his sweet-ass time with her. We need to talk to her first. Like, why isn't anyone looking for her? No missing children reports in this area fit her description – don't you find that odd? There's something more going on here and I don't feel right about just dumping her at some hospital – I'll check her out myself. Grab some water and fruit – apples, bananas – whatever they have. Get some juice, too," long hair (Sam?) added.

"And beer," short hair (Dean?) added, walking away.

"Little Girl," a soft voice said from above. It was Sam. I felt a hand gingerly touch my shoulder and I jumped in the seat. I scurried as far over to the other side of the car as I could, crushing myself against the opposite door. My eyes were still blurry, but I fought to open them, if only to defend myself. I threw my arms up, hands splayed out. I felt like a mole. (Am I a mole-girl now? Really? Why? I was just with Albert and my family in broad daylight not less than a few hours ago. My mind whirled and cranked to try to make sense of this. With no sane answer, I began to descend again into my blank place).

"Okay, okay – listen to me," Sam the long hair explained. "I'm not gonna hurt you. We want to help. You've been...ummmm… trapped, in the dark, for quite awhile from what I can tell. You need to drink and eat. I promise you are safe here. My brother and I, we, well – we help people like you. People who need saving. Can you tell me your name?" he asked, his voice staying even, calm, and soothing throughout , speaking words that shattered the happiness I had finally found with the Ingalls.

(I must have fallen and hit my head REALLY hard. I'm so confused. This is not the real world. I would know if I was trapped in the dark – wouldn't I? Maybe they put drops in my eyes to make them unrecognizable. They're kidnappers, after all. Delusional liars. Delusional liars who apparently hydrate and feed their captives. I just want this over. None of it makes sense and I'm scared. I don't wanna be here, in this car, with tall long haired Sam trying to trick me into trusting him, while short haired angry Dean buys me fruit and juice).

I must have spaced out again, because before I had time to react, a bottle of water was placed to my lips. I began to shake my head in refusal, unsure if I was being drugged or not. "Little girl, you have to drink. Aren't you thirsty? You must be. Please. Drink," Sam said. My need for water outweighed my fear being poisoned or drugged, so I began to drink. It was hard to swallow. I couldn't make my throat move right. I choked and it came spewing out my nose.

"Jeez, Sammy, don't drown her," Dean said from in front of me somewhere. "Kid, you have to go slow, take sips. Sit up, so you can swallow."

"My brother's right, sweetheart, sit up a bit more."

I was rearranged so I was sitting up, instead of cowering sideways against the door. My eyes hurt so much. I opened them as wide as I could, because if I ever got out of this I would want to be able to identify my kidnappers (Or maybe they're delusions, that was more like it. That's it! I was probably lying in my bed with a fever, Mrs. Ingalls wiping my brow with a cool cloth hoping for it to break. I must be in a fever at home. Walnut Grove. These people are just delusions, and delusions are not real). This thought comforted me.

Dark eyes looked back me, and they didn't look afraid of being indentified. They didn't look afraid of anything. They looked worried. A small smile curved on his face, and when they did, dimples appeared on corner of his lips. He held my water bottle in his uplifted hand.

"Hi, I'm Sam. Let's try this again, okay? Go slow, small sips."

He held the water to my mouth again and I took a sip. Then another and another until the plastic crinkled together in his hand.

"Good job, little gir…. Do you know your name?" he asked. "Do you remember anything?" His was staring intently at me, eyebrows furrowed together with concern, now. He had a nice face, but I knew too well that sometimes people with nice faces didn't have such nice things inside them.

I stared at him, mute. He was a pretty detailed delusion.

I heard his brother say "What the hell, has she said ANYTHING?"

A huge sigh came from in front of me. "No, Dean, and I'm sure that has nothing to do with you barking orders over your shoulder into her face," Sam said in a low voice.

"Let's just get going, we have a long drive ahead of us. Probably won't make it to the bunker until late tomorrow afternoon," crabby Dean said.

I felt Sam's hands on my shoulders (shaking shoulders). "Are you cold?" he asked. I nodded. (I may as well be warm while I'm losing my mind/being kidnapped/having a feverish delusion). I heard movement and rustling around from the trunk (this is when he goes all crazy and knocks me out and throws me back there). Instead, I was covered with a blanket. It was worn and soft and smelled like sleep. "Here, I made a pillow for your head. Lie down," my delusion, Sam, said softly.

I stretched out in the back seat, head resting on soft flannel that smelled like mint and musk. I winced as I turned on my side, feeling the cuts on my arms break open and leak. (That's okay because this isn't real. Soon I'll wake up and be eating some of Mrs. Ingall's chicken soup. Then Carrie will help me catch up on my English and Albert with my Math. Then, Mr. Ingalls will come and check on me when he gets home from work. Once I wake up from this nightmare, everything will be fine again).

Sam studied me for a few minutes. "I know you're hurt, and I can help with that. You need special medicine too, from the thing that took you. Don't worry, you're safe. I'll fix you up tomorrow at the bunker. (Bunker? What's in a bunker? Oh God, it's probably a dungeon). We'll figure this all out then. For now, sleep," he told me. I felt a hand touch the top of my head and heard him say, "I'm so sorry." (God it felt real, and he sounded sincere. Delusion. Liar. Kidnapper. It didn't matter. Whoever he was, and whoever his brother was didn't matter to me. Because I wasn't buying. None of this made sense, and I was still scared and tired even if I was in a fever in Walnut Grove. I want to go home.)

I drifted into sleep as the tires rolled steadily beneath me.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Bright blue light. It burns my eyes.

I can't see. I feel a hand grip my arm. Searing pain is forced into me.

I scream. I have to be dying. This is what dying feels like. I scream. I see nothing, only pain as electricity torrents itself throughout my whole body, cataloging me. Violating my mind. I scream and scream and scream.

"Wake UP, little girl."

I kick and hit, aiming for whatever is hurting me. I feel my foot connect with something and hear –

"Dammit! Hold her, Dean. She's hurting herself. She weighs like a hundred, if that. Pin. Her. Legs."

"I can't get a grip on her. She's like Houdini! Shit, Sam, I think I broke her!"

I'm awake. Dark. My arms stretch above me and hold me just so my toes touch the … (Floor? Ground?) It's excruciating. I feel wet, sticky streams of blood (oh my God - my blood?) draining down my arms. I see something. No, not him. Not the blue man. He comes close and reaches out again to me, cruelly smiling as he glows and sends more shocks through my body. He can see my thoughts. He knows all my secrets. I beg and scream until I have no voice. I forget who I am, and where I am. I twist and kick. I wish I could use my arms.

My arms are pinned down. My legs are held tightly. I feel a hand on my cheek and I turn my head and bite down.

"Owwww… STOP, little girl. You have to wake up now. You're dreaming bad dreams. WAKE UP!"

My eyes snap open. I can't move. The brothers have me on the side of the road, on the ground.

Sam looks down at me, eyes a myriad of emotions. I see blood dripping from his hand. I did that. (How? How can delusions bleed? Nononononono…. Run and hide. I run deep inside myself and away, I have to get away).

Dean releases my legs. My knee feels weird. Thick. Throbbing. He looks at me from my other side. I shake my head back and forth, digging my heels into the ground to gain some traction. I proceed to back myself right into Sam.

His arms cross over me, not hurting me, but holding me there.

"Shhhh, little girl. Now you've gone and hurt yourself. We aren't gonna hurt you. How many times do I have to say that? You have to calm down. Breathe with me," he ordered, pressing his arms in and giving me a shake. "Breathe. In and out. Slow. That's right, slow and easy. Calm down and breathe. You're safe."

I begin to feel tired despite the adrenaline surging through my body. I am numb.

"She's shutting down, Sammy. I don't know if we can help her," I hear Dean say.

"Well, we damn sure aren't giving up. She's hurt and alone. She's just a kid. She's been so traumatized she won't talk or even tell us her name. This is our job," he finished.

I heard a scoff and a chuckle.

"Then by all means let's do our job, Sam. Let's find out what's going on with this kid and fix it. That Djinn (Djinn? What the heck is that? Are they drinking Gin?) is still out there. I say we help the kid, gank the Djinn, and take a few days off, agreed?"

"Let's just focus on helping the kid first."

"I think I broke her knee," Dean said with a sigh.

"Hey, at least you didn't get bit. She's freaking strong for such a small girl. Let's just get home," Sam says, picking me up. My knee explodes with pain and I think about screaming. Instead, I just pass out.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

I open my eyes. I'm still not home. I don't understand. I am supposed to wake up and be with the Ingalls. I am supposed to be with my family in Walnut Grove. I feel tears stinging my eyes and I force them away.

The first thing I notice is I'm clean, and in a clean bed. I'm in a small room with a desk and lamp. There's a dresser. It looks like a door to a bathroom, too. And… I'm not in my white shirt and khaki's any more. Not that they were any good, but it still gives me the creeps. I am in a long white tee with a red and white flannel over, both hanging well below my knees. My head hurts in the back where my hair was matted against my scalp. My neck and throat throb. I raise my arms and see a horror show. Stitches run up and down each like superhighways. My knee is taped tightly. Really tight. I can't move my leg. Something is keeping me from getting out of this bed. I hear clanking as I move my leg around. (Handcuffed? Who cleans and repairs a stranger and then handcuffs them to the bed? Oh, duh. I don't like where this is going at all. I give up. I'm so tired.)

I give my leg a final shake and throw my head back on the pillow, wincing in pain.

"Take it easy, kid," I hear Dean say. "The cuffs are just a precaution."