Genre: Team Free Will, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Medical Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Schizophrenia, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Withdrawal, Minor Character Death, Temporary Character Death - Winchesters, Torture, Violence

A/N: Ahem. So, uh, I'm on a hiatus but this fic's been planned, well, most of it's been planned for ages. Also, it's a very belated birthday gift to one of my favourite humans ever, Sanjana.

I will try to update as frequently as I can but sadly, those horrible things called Exams are still here. The utter bane of my existence.

I would like to thank Sanjana/SPNxBookworm for her prompt and her saint-like patience. This was supposed to be done for a big bang. But haha. Also, my other wifey, Naila/remy-areyousrs is a complete angel to have cheered me and helped me while I plotted this. Another person I need to thank is Lennelle/Ellen, for motivating me to post this, haha. Thank you, sweethearts. :)

Please read all the warnings. I will add more as I proceed if I deem necessary and notify you at the beginning of the chapter. The major character death is temporary (reincarnation fic haha). The spoilers will be upto season five.

This is a Team Free Will fanfic, so lots of friendship/family/brotherly stuff. It's been a long time since I wrote something with no ships haha. I hope I am able to carry this fic off well. And I hope you guys enjoy too. Thank you for choosing to read this. :)

GOSSAMER DREAMS

Prologue

(You're mine).

"D-D—"

(I will catch up with you, Sam, and there is nothing you can do to get away from me).

Curtains are ripped back. He hears wheels. Footsteps against linoleum. Frap-whir-clomp.

Sweat runs down his forehead and into his hair. Not a dream. Not a dream. Dreams look silky, fake. Delicate.

Like gossamer. Wings of butterflies. Colourful and beautiful. Fragile. They break when you push a syringe into Sam's port. Break like needles breaking his skin. Like… like Dean's voice when they shock him.

Don't shock Dean. Don't shock Dean. Not even Chris. Don't shock Chris or Dean. Don't – don't hurt them.

Frap-whir-clomp.

"Dean."

(You're mine).

His fingers twitch, his heart races. His stomach churns, and the single light above his bed splits into two, each new little light spinning over the other. Sam can't take it anymore.

"Deannn."

He blinks.

They took Dean away. Half an hour ago. They took—

Sam had told him not to attack that orderly. Dean is so much better at listening to Sam when… no, no, Chris. Chris is good at… at listening to Sam. That is when he is in charge. All of today, all of yesterday, it's been Dean and he won't listen and…

They gave him. They gave him shock. Or something. To Dean. Chris?

"He's still post-ictal. Be careful about his ribs."

Frap-whir-clomp.

Sam turns. His neck is loose, like it will twist away and fall off. He blinks again. Smacks his dry lips.

Dry. Dry. So dry. Water. Water.

The curtain parts briefly for Sam to peek into Dean's cubicle and he can't make anything out of what he's seeing. Except that Dean's hurt.

Dean's huuuuurt.

Smile wiiiiide.

That sounds like some song. Like in school. Kindergarten. Or something. Do they still sing?

Funnyyyyy.

Someone's laughing. Maybe Sam. No. Dean. Or… Dean's… Dean's here.

Sam turns to look at him.

There's blood on Dean's chin. Or like. Or like Chris's chin. Dried blood all red and flaky. And drool. His eyes are open, blinking at the ceiling, wide and haunted. Like he saw a ghost.

Fu-unny fun fun fun they said ghosts don't exist.

Dean's fingers are twitching, like Sam's.

Sam is sleepy. Something… there's something wrong in him, and he doesn't know. Lucifer is quiet right now and it feels like bliss: like the right time to sleep.

They need to… they had to get out. Somewhere. They didn't—

"D-D'n," Sam whispers again, tongue heavy and too large for his mouth.

Dean doesn't reply with the usual, affectionate, Sammy. He stares and he stares and Sam smacks his lips again. Dryyyy.

They need to. He can't. Where were they?

"D'n."

(I'm coming for you).

Sam lets his eyes fall shut, hoping he won't have to wake up again. He'd rather live in those gossamer dreams. He'd rather play with the butterfly wings and watch them break.

Don't break my brother. Break me, but don't break my brother. I just got him… got him yesterday.

He wants to sing. Wants to. But someone's singing. And his head sings. His brain. Mind. Sings with the humming. The tune. Like Mom sang sometimes.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

A/N: Do let me know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!