IT WAS ALL IN HIS HEAD

AN: This is a paraphrase of what I saw on a Facebook post.

What if 'Supernatural' is actually all Dean's storyline?

What if Dean Winchester is in a mental institution imagining everything that's happened so far? What if, in reality, Dean failed to carry Sam out of the fire? What if he ran to save himself and his guilt got the best of him? So, he created an imaginary world where Sam's always with him.

Anyone who knows who wrote this/issued this writing challenge, please let me know. I would love to give them credit for the inspiration. JL

Chapter 1

Each day around this time found him in his favorite spot at the institution. It was by the stream down the hill from the dorm he had called home for his entire life. He had been brought to the place as a child. When he had lost his entire family in a tragic house fire. His mom, dad and baby brother had all been burned to death. He had managed to run out but his dad had gone back to get his little brother and had not escaped.

Dean had spent his life imagining what his life would have been like had his family lived, especially his little brother, Sam. John and Mary, his parents, had made sure that Dean had gotten well acquainted with his little brother. They had allowed Dean to hold Sam pretty often. And Dean had found himself going into Sam's room and talking to him as he lay in his crib.

Now, even two decades later, his thoughts always returned to his family. What he presumed his family to be. And when he talked to his counselors and even his psychiatrist, they would tell him he had taken the fantasy too far. That he needed to stay in his reality. This reality. But, it was just so easy, sometimes, to just slip back into what he imagined his life could be. He and his brother, fighting evil, killing monsters and driving around in muscle cars.

Dean's ideal car was the only car he could really remember well. And that was his dad's Impala. John had bought it new. And Dean could remember how the leather smelled. He could close his eyes and picture the dash board. He remembered his view of life from the backseat as they sped down the road. Dean watching the world fly by. He marveled at how the moon and the sun always seemed to follow them when they drove. And he knew, he just knew, that car was gonna be his when he grew up.

Dean remembered helping John fix the Impala. Though help would probably be a stretch. The tools were too big and too heavy for his small uncoordinated hands to handle. But, he did his best to try and do what his dad told him to do. And he watched his dad, closely, trying to make sure he got all the steps down. Even now, if given the chance, Dean thought that he could change the oil or overhaul an engine. He knew the steps. It was all locked away in his head.

Dean dreamed a lot. Nearly every night. He didn't tell the therapist all he dreamed about. It was weird, even for him. True, he told his shrink that he thought a lot about his family, in particular his brother. But he didn't tell the doctor what he imagined the two of them doing. It was too weird, too strange, and too bloody. There were knives and guns and lots of unearthing remains in his dreams. He didn't understand it all. His therapist would probably suggest he be put in Building C. And he didn't want that. Nobody wanted to be in Building C. Especially those already there, from the sounds of things. Dean had never been in Building C. But he had heard a lot about it. And he had heard a lot from it. It was the locked psych ward. Those who were dangerous to themselves and others were housed there. He had heard screams issuing from the building, at all hours of the day and night. It gave him nightmares to even imagine what went on in there. Sometimes the nursing staff, when they got a little tired of his stubborn streak, they would threaten him with Building C. He never knew if they were serious or not, so it had its desired effect. He stopped doing whatever it was that was annoying them.

TBC