SAMMY IN WONDERLAND

By StoriesandMagic

Summary: Sam dreams.
Charaters: Sam, Dean, OMC and a petulant writer.
Rating: PG.

Light. Music. Magic. Everything had changed. It was as if he was tripping, not that he had done it. Except for that time in college when they smoke weed. But that wasn't a trip, it was laughter and silliness. He had read about the effects of peyote in the human brain; about LSD. Now he felt as if he was into a Beatles song. Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. Literally.
Maybe he was dreaming. Some sort of nightmare. He remembered having dinner with Dean. He had prepared for him a veggie burger. Dean was becoming an excellent cook. He remembered going to sleep in his room and then…the noise.

It started with a noise. The tic-toc of a clock, the sound of feet tapping on the wooden floor of the Men Of Letters bunker. He got up from his bed, wearing only a tee and boxers, took his salt loaded gun and left. It was odd, the bunker was supposed to be protected against anything of the supernatural persuasion so it couldn't be a ghost. Maybe a thief? But no human could enter the Winchester batcave without the key. He thought best no to wake up Dean, he could handle alone whatever it was.

The tic-toc sound seemed to come from the library, Sam headed there but there was nothing. Then, it came from the pantry, Sam ran there but he saw nothing. He gave up after roaming the bunker for a while. When he was returning to his room, he got a glimpse of something in the library. It was white, had long, pointy ears and carried a pocket watch.
- Seriously? – he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was probably a trickster that, for some reason, had managed to skip all the security of their secret batcave. He followed the rabbit down to the bookshelves and saw him disappear between them. Then, a force suctioned the hunter sending him into a swirling journey.

Sam fell on grass, wet and fresh, like the one just rained on. It was clear day, sun was shining and the sky was blue. Sam looked for someone or something familiar but the place was completely empty. He walked and walked and walked still wondering where he was or what had really happened.
- It has to be a dream. – He said. And decided to let himself be taken by it. He would have to wake up sooner or later anyway.
The hunter arrived at a forest from where sounds of weeping emerged. He saw a boy seated under a huge tree, what looked like an old oak. The boy glanced up at him, tears running down his cheeks.
- She said she wasn't going to write about me because I looked too much like a fairy tale character, like a magical creature.
- What? – asked a puzzled Sam.
- The Writer. She's not nice to me. – replied the boy.
- Which writer? – asked Sam again.
- No, she's not a witch. She's the Almighty One. If you aren't written, you don't exist. – The boy spoke with a thick British accent.
Sam shook his head. What a weird dream he was in.
- But you do exist, I'm seeing you and I'm talking to you. What's your name?
- But that's not the point! – Replied the boy a bit exasperated. – My name is Harry, what's yours?
- Sam. Nice to meet you, Harry.
- Sam? – Harry wiped the tears from his face and stood up. He observed the hunter for a few minutes. – You're Sammy? – He said finally.
- This is how my brother calls me.
- But you're Sammy? – repeated Harry.
Sam nodded and felt some relief when he saw the boy smiling broadly.
- Excellent! You're our saviour!
- Wait. What are you talking about?
- She said she only would talk to Sammy. She said she trusted Sammy and his advice and she'll do what Sammy tells her.
Sam sat on the grass, he was feeling confused and wondering why his subconscious had decided to play with him like that. Maybe it was something he ate.
- Who is She? – He asked.
- The Writer! – Harry gestured in an exaggerated way then urged Sam to get up. – Mad Hatter knows where she spends the days and nights forging our existence.
- The Mad Hatter? Am I really in Wonderland? – Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to wake up from the strangest dream of his life but he also felt curiosity.
- Of course! Where did you think you were?
- In a dream? Or a nightmare? I'm still not sure. – responded the hunter.
- What's that? – Harry had a confused look on his face.
- Never mind. – Sam shook his head and followed the boy who was already walking into the woods.

The place was certainly beautiful. All types of trees, flowers and plants had grown in the mysterious forest; it was like a manual of botany turned to life. Sam wished he had time to stop and observe them with detail; he was a nerd after all. But they kept walking for hours although Sam had the impression they hadn't moved from the same spot. Harry finally paused in front of a door that appeared from nowhere and knocked. None other than Dean Winchester opened it. He was dressed with clothes that were obviously from the XIX century and was wearing a top hat. He smiled broadly at them and said:
- So?
- I've found him. – was Harry's response. He pointed at Sam. – He's Sammy.
Dean stared at him and Sam felt like laughing. He couldn't wait to wake up from that dream and tell his brother he was the Mad Hatter in his subconscious.
- Are you mad? – Asked Mad Hatter Dean.
The hunter didn't know what to say, he simply stood there wishing everything made sense but nothing ever made sense neither in Dreamland nor in his life.
- We're all mad here. I'm mad, he's mad. I wouldn't want it any other way. So. Are. You. Mad?
- Answer him! – Harry was screaming.
- I'm starting to believe I am.
- Mad Sammy is here. – announced Dean to no one.
- He's come to save us. He's the only one who can change The Writer's mind. You must take him to her. – Harry seemed really nervous. Mad Hatter Dean tried to soothe him. After making the boy drink a cup of tea, he looked again at the hunter and spoke to him:
- She wants to stop writing, which means we stop existing.
- I told her she couldn't do that. She said she was going to erase me, that my story wasn't worth it and that I didn't belong in Wonderland. – Harry started crying again.
- But you already exist. – commented Sam.
- That's not the point! - protested both Harry and Dean.
- Okay, okay. I'll talk to her if this is going to help you. – Sam just wanted to be over it.
Mad Hatter Dean took his hands and spoke in a dramatic tone:
- She'll only listen to you, we trust you, Mad Sammy.
Then, he swirled and danced and pointed his finger towards another door which, again, appeared from nowhere.
- She hides there to think. – Dean told him – Think. Such an ugly word.
Harry nodded exaggeratedly.
- Now go, my dear Mad Sammy. – Added. – Enter that door. If you convince her, you'll find us here when you walk out, if you don't, we'll be gone forever and ever.
- Forever is another ugly word. – The boy sighed.

Sam stood in front of the door and was about to knock when it opened alone. He stepped into a brightly illuminated room whose walls seemed to be made of leaves of paper. Behind a desk that resembled a big book sat a girl with long black hair and round blue eyes. She had a pen in her tiny white hand but wasn't using it. She looked intently at the hunter.
- I never thought they would bring you here. – She said. She also spoke with a thick British accent.
- You must be The Writer, the Almighty One.
- Isn't it obvious? – The girl smiled which made Sam feel more at ease.
- You wished to see me.
- Indeed. – The girl let go of the pen and crossed her arms. – I want to know your opinion. Do I quit writing or do I continue writing?
- You should continue.
- Why? – Her face showed no emotion at all. Sam felt nervous; he didn't know what to answer to that. If he said the wrong thing, everything was lost.
- Your characters deserve to keep living, they deserve their stories.
The Writer smiled again.
- Then, why do you want to die, Sam Winchester?
The hunter was taken aback by the question. Now would be the perfect time to wake up, before the weird dream turned into something unpleasant. But no matter how hard he tried or how hard he told himself to open his eyes, he was still in that room in front of the Almighty Writer.
- This has nothing to do with me. – was his response.
- It does. You don't want them to disappear but you want to stop existing. You consider them important, worthy of a story, but you consider yourself undeserving.
Sam looked at the floor. His own subconscious was a psychoanalyst, how appropriate.
- It won't be me the one to erase them, it will be you. If you walk out that door with the same frame of mind, they will be gone.
Sam raised his eyes.
- I need to get out of here. This is not funny anymore.
- Fine, cross the door and you'll be in your bedroom in the bunker but you'll remember this dream forever.
Sam thought about Harry's tears. The boy wanted to be written, wanted to have a story. He thought about Mad Hatter Dean. He couldn't be so cruel to step out that room and lose him. He couldn't bear to lose Dean.
- I hurt the people I love. – He finally said. – That's why I want to die. My story has always been one of disappointment, of pain, of lies. I'm tired of it.
The Writer smiled beautifully.
- You know what? All stories can be changed. You've just changed the story of Harry and the Mad Hatter. You've just changed your own story. You couldn't let Harry down and you couldn't bear Mad Hatter disappearing. Harry is yourself while the Hatter is your brother. Now go back to where you belong. Everything will be as it should be in Wonderland.

…

Sam sat on his bed startled. Morning light coming through the small window in his bedroom. He pinched himself to check he was really awake, the dream still so vivid. He went to the kitchen where Dean was already cooking their breakfast, Sam never felt happier to see him again.
- Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.
Sam smiled:
- Shut up, jerk. I've just had the strangest dream ever.
- Don't talk to me about dreams, Sammy. You won't believe it. Last night, I dreamt I was the Mad Hatter and Alice wasn't even there. Just you and some unknown boy. Now talk to me about weird.

THE END