OUTSIDE OF OUR MINDS

Prologue.

Sam fell. Two words. Seven letters. So easy to say. Not easy to watch. In fact very difficult to watch. In fact...too difficult. Dean falls to his knees, shoulders shaking, lungs fighting to breathe. He can't even feel his face, he barely saw the heart shattering moment because of his swollen eyes. But he saw enough...

He saw Sam's sweet smile as he fell, as he simply let himself become one with the wind, with the air and happily sacrificed himself. Falling, falling, falling...gone. And Dean was here, alone. Something snaps in him, he didn't even know, doesn't realize. But he knows he can't without Sam, he knows he can't live a life when Sam sacrificed his own. He can't...he was supposed to protect Sammy...that's what dad said, look after Sam, protect Sammy.

This is wrong, this isn't the way it's supposed to be, Dean prayed, okay, he prayed. Sam trusted, Sam gave himself up to Lucifer because he didn't want Dean to give in to Michael, because he felt he deserved eternal damnation more than his brother. And Dean made him feel that way every time he'd shown his absolute disgust for the demon blood and the lust for it still alive in his little brother.

He'd been trying to do the right thing...when...where had he gone so wrong? Sam...Sammy...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I don't know what happened, I don't know what happened to me, I'm so sorry.

Cas can bring Bobby back, he can untwist a broken neck, he can heal Dean's face back to its immaculate ruggedness...but he can't fix Dean inside. The promise he'd made to Sam that he would go and make a life for himself can't fix him. Not even himself, no one can. He is shattered, broken...a big part of him doesn't understand what's happened to him and he's just lost amidst the haze of dimmed and numbed pain and confusion.

But a very small part that he buries deep inside knows what has happened to his heart and his mind. Knows that what both brother's knew would happen has happened. One brother is gone and the other has fallen apart at the seams. Sam's absence and the thought of him locked in hell is the string that just keeps pulling and pulling, unraveling as the fabric of his mind disintegrates.

. . .

Chapter 1.

Sam's eyes blink open, stinging with the gritty feeling of being asleep for too long. He grimaces and covers his face with his hands against the bright sunlight. What's that sound? Singing...birds singing. Wind whispering through trees and grass...whispering along his skin. His body erupts in goosebumps as chills run down his spine and up to his neck.

He keeps his eyes closed, bathing in this sudden heaven-like dream. The wind sounds like ocean waves in the trees and the birds echo the beautiful sound. It's so quiet, god, he wishes this was his reality. So quiet, the air so fresh and uninterrupted, alone...he's blissfully, painlessly alone. He feels tears in his eyes at the realization that his body is silent, his nerves not screaming at him in pain. What he would do for this to be his reality.

The peaceful, quiet, safe moment makes him think of Dean. What doesn't make him think of is older sibling? He feels his lips curving in a smile. Dean loved days like this...he loved to sit on the hood of the impala, or sprawl out on the cement leaning against one of her tires and drink beer while wisecracking at Sam and the radio and pretty much everything in life.

He misses that smile. Like a hole through his chest he misses that smile.

His fingers curl into a fist against the pain, against the soul wrenching loneliness, against the cry of agony his very soul lets loose in need of Dean. His hand in a tight fist, he feels dampness, softness between his fingers that gives him pause. He slowly blinks again and opens his eyes to the sun.

The sun, god, the warmth. The light and purity playing over his skin, treating his eyes to natural soothing light. He looks down bewildered to his hand, dirt. Damp, dark soil. That's what he'd grabbed. There in between his fingers, underneath his nails was palpable proof. He sits up up fast, wind catching his hair and the thin t-shirt he's got on.

He buries both hands in the damp grass and dirt before him, grounding himself and confirming this delusion like hope, takes in deep breaths of early morning dewy air. Earth. He's back on earth. He's home.

How?

He doesn't know.

He's in Stull Cemetery sitting there in the same exact place where he'd disappeared. Everything is the same, the gravestones, the trees. Late summer makes the surroundings a little more cheerful. But it's empty, no living being other than himself, the birds, and the insects in sight.

How had he gotten out of the cage, more importantly who got him out? His heart constricts in fear for Dean but in excitement and painfully strong love too. Dean...I get to see him, I get to be with him again! He doesn't care honestly, he just wants that moment, he just wants a few minutes of that sweet reunion and he won't care, you can take him back to the cage again.

But please, please let me see Dean.

He pushes himself up and gets to his feet, sways a little once he's six-four in the air again. He rubs his forehead and grimaces as dizziness swims his vision for a bit and his stomach rolls nauseas but growls hungrily at the same time. He shakily begins to make his way out of the cemetery and to the road back towards civilization.

"What the hell is going on, Dean?" He asks out loud. Hoping beyond hope that his big brother and the impala will appear, that Dean's own soul will feel the pull Sam's heart beats faster with right now. But Dean doesn't appear and neither does Baby, Sam hobbles down the road, mind filled with confusion and anxious anticipation to be back by his brother's side once again.

He doesn't know why when he's the one who just got out of hell. But the urgency with which he feels he needs to get to Dean is filling him with dark anxiety. He's restless and excited inside, feeling the bond, tightening and stretching between them, pulling him so strongly it almost hurts. Maybe it's just him, maybe after all this time he just needs to see Dean, feel him safe by his side to be okay again. Either way.

"I'm coming," he mumbles under his breath, searching for road signs, "I'm coming."

. . .

Oddly enough Sam's wallet is in his jeans pocket. He's grateful, but he finds it weird. What had gone down in order to bring him back? And who had done it? He feels certain if it was Dean, his brother would have been there ready and waiting. He shakes off all these questions, knowing asking them to the wind is pointless.

He has just enough money to by water and beef jerky when he makes it to a truck stop. He thumbs his way to South Dakota pouring over news papers in the trucks he rides. Six months. It's been six months. God, it felt so much longer. So much painfully longer. What was that in Hell time? Dean had said four months was like forty years, so sixty years. Sixty years of the devil shattering him, tearing him apart and putting him back together only to do it all over again.

He shakes his head against the dark thoughts and looks out onto the darkening sky, the horizon whizzing by quickly in the truck. A sunset. Had to be the prettiest thing he's ever seen, his hearts swells with the blessed feeling and grateful relief. With a stranger riding beside him in the truck and alone and vulnerable Sam still can't help himself, a few small tears leak out as he falls into an uneasy but much needed sleep.

. . .

The driver shakes him awake at ten p.m. outside of Sioux Falls and Sam drops to his feet from the tall cab of the eighteen wheeler into the cool night. A mumbled thanks is all the kind trucker needs and Sam stands watching as the lonely tail lights disappear leaving him in the dark. It takes more than a quiet night to rattle Sam Winchester though.

He basks in the silence as he starts down the road, beginning the last leg of his journey step by step to Bobby's house. Honestly he didn't know what he expected to find there. Cas and Bobby where dead, he saw, felt Lucifer kill them...that was a whole mourning process he'd yet to tackle, and Dean had promised to go and try an honest start to another life away from all the supernatural and danger. Which would surprise him more that is brother didn't or did try?

He doesn't even know. Now that he takes the time to stop and think, he'll just be thankful if Dean is still alive. After all he'd left his brother hella beat up and with all their friends dead. Dean alone, and no doubt out of his head angry and reckless...it would be a wonder if Dean didn't get at least seriously screwed up by whiskey, women or hunt, take your pick.

So it's with understandable trepidation that Sam slowly but surely makes his way towards Bobby's. There's a nervous lump in his throat as he catches sight of the junk yard sign and his steps unconsciously quicken. Please be here Dean, please be alive...

There are lights on inside, making the windows glow. Good sign, Sam says to himself, that's a good sign. The dim light from the security lights in the junkyard reflect on the Impala's perfectly waxed surface pulled up in the yard. He sighs as he runs light fingertips over the familiar cool, metal curves, a smile playing on his lips. Dean was definitely here.

He mindlessly jumps up the stairs to the porch and is raising his hand to the door knob when he hears that tell tale click that his hunter instincts freeze at. He slowly raises his hands in front unthreateningly as his eyes jump trying to find the gun barrel no doubt pointed right at his head.

"You can hold it right there." A gravely voice demands. And Sam's insides freeze and jump all at the same time. There's only one person that voice could belong to.

"Bobby, is that you?" He asks, voice shaking.

"I think I'll be the one asking the questions, starting with why you thought it would be a good idea to come here wearin' Sam Winchester. Because this shot gun is fulla silver and I'm ready to use it."

Sam swallows thickly, how in hell? It was Bobby...how, when had he come back? He'd seen with his own eyes, remembers the twist and the crack. "B, Bobby, it's me, it's Sam for real. Not a shifter I know that's what you're thinking."

"Too bad for you I know that can't be possible." Bobby snarls back.

"Test my eyes, or go ahead and shoot me I don't care...I just wanna see Dean. And I really wanna know what's going on, how the hell are you alive for starters?"

He hisses as a bright light shines straight in his eyes along with a startling splash of water. "Not a demon either Bobby, jesus, I had to walk all the way here, a shifter or a demon would at least come in style." He chuckles drily, as some scuffling noises sound from inside like the old hunter is moving around.

"I woke up this morning in Stull just like this with nothing but the clothes on my back." Sam hears the locks on the other side of the door being undone and then he's staring at the beloved face through the dirty screen door. Untrimmed beard, greasy cap and sharp cold blue eyes.

Sam's smile stretches his whole face, "Shit Bobby, thought I'd never see you again."

"Sam is that really you, son?" Bobby asks, still a little on edge, a lot on guard.

"It's really me Bobby, I swear it."

The older man pushes the screen door open and steps towards the younger Winchester hesitantly. Lighting fast, even too fast for Sam's reflexes, Bobby swipes a silver blade over his forearm. Sam hisses and jerks back, placing his hand over the stinging flesh, feeling the warmth of blood between his fingers.

"Ow, Bobby! I thought we already established that I'm not a shifter."

"Sorry." Bobby mutters, "I can't..." he pauses and looks Sam's face over, his own twisting with strong emotions. "I can't believe it's really you."

"Me neither, really, I don't know what happened." Sam laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"Come here." Bobby husks out wrapping him in a strong hug, and Sam returns it, allows himself to melt into his father figure. Lets his head rest on his shoulder and close his eyes and sigh with a somewhat safe, relaxed feeling.

"Bobby, how, how are you alive?" He asks, softly as he pulls away, both looking away to hide their happy tears.

"It was Cas."

"Cas is alive too?"

Bobby nods, "He said God brought him back."

"God?" Sam repeats, incredulously, raising his eyebrows dubiously at the older man.

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly." Bobby says drily. "But boy, am I glad you're back."

The younger Winchester returns his soft smile. "Bobby." Sam says, eyes sweeping the kitchen and into the study, "Where's Dean, he's here right?"

Bobby nods, "He's already asleep."

Sam feels the breath leave him a relieved whoosh. "How is he Bobby? It's been six months right?"

Bobby nods and Sam doesn't know what to make of the heavy sigh as he motions for Sam to follow him after closing up the door and throwing all the dead bolts and chain locks. They walk through the house quietly before reaching the door to the bedroom down stairs. Bobby uses his hand to push the door the rest of the way open.

The room is dark but the light filtering through the window from the flood lights in the yard casts streams of illumination across the bed. Dean lays there in the sheets, face pale and unfairly sharp and pretty on the pillow like usual. Something deep and dark purrs and goes back to sleep inside Sam's soul as he lays eyes on his brother again.

His chest rises and falls methodically, deep and peaceful in his sleep, and Sam finds himself echoing the rhythm unconsciously. A smile bends his lips and he just stands there basking in the presence, in the air, the same air that Dean is breathing.

"Is he alright?" Sam asks softly, barely breaking the overlying silence. He stiffens with the significant pause Bobby gives. "Bobby?" He cuts his eyes at the older hunter beside him.

"He's alright yeah Sam, he's different, very different." Bobby sighs, eyes back on his older brother. "You'll have to see for yourself, but he's never been the same after that day...

"C'mon." He says, jerking his head towards the study, "Let's go talk in here, I'm going to need a drink for this."

Sam casts one last worried, starved glance to his sleeping sibling before following Bobby down the hall, leaving the door open. There was going to be no unnecessary barriers between he and his brother ever again, he wanted Dean there, he wanted to be there...no doors, no walls...or hell or heaven.

He collapses on the old familiar couch as Bobby sighs as he sinks into his office chair. The weathered hunter takes off his cap and scratches the back of his head as he pours some liquor into glasses for them both. Sam takes the glass offered him, usually he wouldn't but sixty years in hell, well, let's just say he needs and he thinks he just might deserve it.

"It's kind of hard to explain." Bobby says, leaning all the way back in his chair, sipping on the strong, chest-burning liquor without batting an eye. "It was just like something snapped inside him after you fell Sam, it's the only way I can explain it. He's not like you remember him, he's not...driven at all."

Sam shakes his head, coughing as the swallows back the burning liquid. "Are you saying he's changed or that mentally..."

The look in Bobby's eyes makes Sam's heart tremble and fall through the floor of his chest. "He said his first words three months ago Sam."

"Shit." Sam whispers. His eyes haunted and fixed on the empty hallway leading to his old brother's room. "Has he talk..."

"No, I haven't heard him say your name or talk about you the entire time."

Sam swallows thickly, telling himself he wasn't going to cry when it was obviously Dean who had the important problems. Bobby watches him carefully, pain of his own, and the feeling of the pain of his boys reflecting deep in his eyes.

"He still hunts?" Sam asks, voice a little husky.

"Once." The silence that reigns afterwards cuts away at Sam's heart.

"What happened Bobby?" Sam's heart beats faster thinking of what could have happened to his brother.

"I was too late, is what happened." The old man grunts, his eyes looking haunted and guilty. "By the time I got to him there was only blood and shreds of meat left of that vamp...Sam." Bobby shakes his head shivering, "The way he screamed over that blood, with the adrenaline rushing through his veins...I haven't let him hunt again and he hasn't wanted to either."

"Bobby." Sam says lowly, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and swallowing thickly. "Are you saying, do you think it's mental?"

Bobby sighs heavily again the conversation obviously hard and painful for him to have, he loved and respected Dean so much as hunter and as a man. "I'm saying you're his brother, you know him better than anyone else and if there's anything he needs it's you Sam...but you need to know this is different the anything we've ever dealt with before."

Sam runs fingers through his hair, head swimming with this information.

"He's just...quiet." Bobby says, shuddering, "Except for when he's screaming through the night."

Sam looks up quickly at that, he knows that pain, he's had nightmares before, god knows he's watched Dean battle through a thousand of them.

"He'd been awake for three days and nights straight when I decided I had to do something..."

"He's on meds?" Sam asks, not being able to envision Dean taking medication willingly.

"Just at night, Jody Mills helped me get him a prescription without taking him in. He just can't sleep without them, screams bloody murder all night long." Sam shivers with the haunted far away look in Bobby's eyes as he stares at the walls remembering Dean's agonizing wails.

Sam rubs his face roughly, "Shit, Bobby what are we going to do?"

The older man shakes his head, before getting to his feet. "First you're going to get a full night's sleep. Then tomorrow you can see for yourself, we can see what he does...I honestly can't predict how he's going to react."

"Thanks Bobby." Sam says, "I guess that's all there is to do."

"Goodnight son, and I'm glad your back boy."

"Me too Bobby, me too." Sam gives him a soft smile, "Goodnight."

In the silence Sam tries to take in everything he's just been told. His head swims with it and unconsciously finds himself getting up and making his way back to the room where his sibling lies asleep. The old house creaks while settling for the night and Sam stands in the door way unmoving.

His brother's pale skin glows ethereal in the dim light and Sam wraps his arms around himself before silently making his way into the room. Dean eyes rove under his lids restlessly sometimes but mostly he just rests, still and peaceful, breaths huffing from his slightly parted lips.

It breaks Sam's heart to know the sweet slumber is only the result of drugs. His brother had never slept so well naturally, not ever in his hard, unforgiving life. Sam sits down in the chair close by the bed and lets his chin fall into his hand, elbow propped on the arm rest. He feels so complete here beside his brother, but the knowledge of Dean's suffering shadows it all...fills him once again with an unease he can't fight because jesus, this is Dean...

"It wasn't supposed to end up this way..." he murmurs, the regret and the guilt filling him, washing over him even though he knows there was no other way to save the world and humanity. But damnit...he had not be ready to see the fall out, to deal with the consequences first hand, not when they looked like this.

...tbc

First chapter, what do you think!? REVIEW!?;);)

So yeah, I'm back. And with another AU I couldn't get out of my mind. Enjoy some angst and pain and brotherly goodness with me!