CHAPTER TWO - Dream State
Previously: Then, it hit him. Sam realized he was no longer alone in the room. He yanked his… no, Dean's, dammit, it was still Dean's… bowie out from under his pillow and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, in one fluid motion. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the man standing at the foot of his bed.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, Sammy. It's me."
Knowing this was probably a dream, and not caring one single bit, Sam jumped from his bed and rushed to his father, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Dad! I tried to save him. I really did!"
John returned his youngest son's embrace, holding him close. "I know you did, Sam. It's okay."
Sam felt long repressed tears spring to his eyes. He leaned his head down, buried his face in his father's shoulder, and cried for the first time since Dean's death.
"Shhh. Sam. It's okay, son. It's gonna be okay."
"How can you say that, Dad? Dean is… he's…" Sam couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. He felt his father attempt to disentangle himself from their embrace but wasn't ready for it to end yet. "I tried to find a way to get him out... to break the contract... but I failed! I failed him, Dad."
"Sam? Son, I need you to look at me. It's important."
Reluctantly, the youngest Winchester pulled away from his father and did as he was told, shamefully wiping the tears from his eyes and face. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion when he felt his father turn him around to face the empty bed beside his own… only to see that it was no longer empty.
"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother and knelt down next to him. He reached out a hand, intending to place it on his brother's cheek but was afraid that if he did that, it wouldn't be real... Dean wouldn't be real. He looked at his father, searching his eyes for answers. "How did you get here?"
John sat down on the edge of the bed, placing one hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on Dean's arm. "Through your dreams, Sammy."
"No! Dammit, no! Not again!" When he started to stand up, his father grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back down to look him in the eye.
"Son. Listen to me. This is a dream, but when you wake up, Dean will still be here."
Sam looked at John with a mixture of shock and disbelief - along with a look of need… the need to believe what his father was telling him. "I don't understand," he finally managed to say around the lump that had formed in his throat.
"Something will be on your nightstand, Sam. You'll know what to do with it. Your brother needs you. Now, more than ever."
"But, how did you...? Bobby and I... we burned his... his... body," Sam said, forcing the last word out.
"I can't explain it to you, Sam. I've already broken enough rules by bringing him here. If I break any more, I may not be allowed back," he said, glancing upwards.
Sam finally lowered his hand onto Dean's forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. It may be a dream, but his brother was warm and solid beneath his touch. He knew he should wake up but he was afraid that, despite his father's words, Dean wouldn't be there when he opened his eyes. The thought of losing his brother again crushed him, so he tried to make this 'dream' last as long as he possibly could. He looked back up at his father.
"You mean, you're up there now?"
"Hey! Don't look so surprised. Turns out, I was doing His work," he shrugged dismissively. "Who woulda thunk it? Anyway, He found it in his heart to forgive me for the rest. That is what He does, after all."
Sam let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, that's what I've heard."
John placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, serious once again. "I need you to wake up now, and save your brother. I managed to heal his body on our way back here, but his mind is another story. I tried but you're the one he really needs."
"Dad, he still needs you. He loves you so much. We both do."
"I know, son. I love both of you, too. More than you could possibly know. But, I've come to realize that you and Dean have a special bond that I could never share with either of you. An unbreakable bond. He needs that bond now, son. He needs you. Whatever you do, don't let him shut you out."
Sam nodded resolutely. "I'll save him this time, dad. I promise."
"I know you will. But, Sam, you have to understand, it'll be a long road to recovery and Dean will fight you every step of the way. That's something about your brother that I fear will never change. And, it's my fault. I know that now. But, I'm going to make up for those mistakes. Starting now," John said. He looked upwards again, listening. Sam couldn't help but follow his line of sight. "I have to go now, son."
The youngest Winchester's eyes darted back to his father. "No! It's too soon. Don't go yet."
"I have to, Sam," he said, standing and pulling Sam up with him.
"Dad --" I'm sorry for all the things I said while you were alive - all the things I didn't say. I'm sorry for all the arguments. I'm sorry… for everything.
"I know, Sammy. Me too," John said, as if reading his son's mind - maybe he had. He gave his son one more heartfelt embrace, whispered "Remember the present," in his ear, then disappeared.
"I love you, dad."
When Sam's eyes flew open, the first thing he saw was the plain, white ceiling of the motel room. He fought the impulse to turn his head. He fought the insurmountable urge to look at the bed directly to his left. He fought these things not because he didn't want to see his brother alive, but because he was afraid that he wouldn't. He was terrified that it was all just a game. Like something the Trickster would do. Play with his head and, in this particular case, his heart and soul. Sam knew that, if his brother wasn't there, he would be crushed beyond recognition. But, he also knew, that he had to look - he had to know if Dean was alive.
He bit his lip and slowly, deliberately, eased his head to the left, not even realizing that he had squeezed his eyes shut until he had to open them to see if Dean was truly there. Sam felt a tear slip from his left eye and ease its way down to his pillow as, for the first time since his brother's grisly death, he smiled. And, this wasn't a half smile, either. No. This was a full on toothy, dimple-filled, sparkling-eyes smile. His brother was lying in the bed. It hadn't been a trick as Sam had feared.
Without wasting another moment, Sam jumped from under his blankets and rushed over to his brother, bumping the nightstand slightly with his knee. He immediately cupped Dean's face with his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, held his hands, all as one final test that his big brother was really there… and he was! Dean was home! The younger Winchester laid his hand on Dean's scalp, using his thumb to massage small soothing circles on his forehead. His breath caught in his throat when his brother leaned into his touch, just as he had so many times before when he was sick and feverish, or just too plain exhausted to pull away from the comfort his little brother was offering. Sam felt his eyes well up and let the tears fall, knowing that every single tear was a happy one because his brother was finally back where he belonged… with him.
After a few moments, Sam remembered his father's words and looked over to the nightstand. Illuminated by the glow of the digital alarm clock was a small baggy, about one centimeter wide by two centimeters long. He turned on the light and examined the contents more closely. Dream root. He looked over at his brother and was able to see that his eyes were moving back and forth beneath the lids. It wasn't just normal Rapid Eye Movement, either. Dean's eyes seemed to be moving so fast that Sam was afraid they would soon free themselves from their imprisoning sockets and roll across the pillow and onto the floor. Sam watched as his brother's head began thrashing from side to side on the pillow.
The younger Winchester ran to the bathroom and filled a cup with water; he then returned to his brother and plucked a hair from Dean's head, wincing as he did so because he didn't want to cause him any more pain - regardless of how small that pain may be. He dropped the hair into the glass of water and followed it up with the dream root. Sitting down on the bed next to Dean, he took his brother's hand firmly in his own. Then, after gulping the concoction down, Sam waited patiently for the drug to take effect.
He remembered how the other times he and Dean had been under the Dream Root's influence, they hadn't even known it had worked until something weird happened. Like noticing that it was raining upside down. Or, seeing Dean's heart wrenching wish to have a normal life, encapsulated in one tiny picnic with Lisa. His brother had denied all knowledge of the dream, claiming to have never had it before, but Sam knew better. Sam knew his brother better than anyone - certainly better than Dean would ever be comfortable with.
"Noooooo!"
The cry was so blood curdling it made Sam jump to his feet.
"Dean?" he whispered, staring in the direction of the scream. It had come from outside the room. He glanced quickly at the sleeping figure in the bed.
"Somebody help me!? Sam?"
Sam's heart stopped in his chest, then started again, picking up speed with each passing second. There was no doubt about it. The voice pleading for help was his brother's. He ran to the door and wrenched it open, almost pulling it off its hinges. What he saw wasn't the parking lot that had been there before. He saw large dark clouds, in fact, he was surrounded by them. He let his eyes wander over them, taking them in, trying to see past them, through them, but he couldn't. The clouds were all encompassing. He watched as they seemed to become electrified. Bolts of lightening blasted through them, yet didn't seem to touch them at all. It was all very surreal.
Knowing that he couldn't help Dean by staying in the 'dream motel room', Sam ventured out into the cloud infested area. He wondered for a moment how the motel room could be in Dean's dream when his brother hadn't laid eyes on it before but quickly forgot about that when he heard the broken plea for help once again. He looked upwards and, this time, his eyes were able to see the source of the cry. In the distance, there was a small figure, lying amongst what looked like chains. Suddenly, Sam felt himself being brought closer to the figure, as if by some invisible force, and his fears were confirmed.
The younger Winchester felt as if his insides were going to come up through his mouth when he saw that his brother was not simply cuffed to the chains… he was attached to them! They were protruding from his sides, his shoulders, his ankles, even his neck. Dean continued to cry out for him, apparently unable to see that Sam had arrived.
"Saaaaammmmm!?"
"Dean! Dean, it's okay, I'm here now!"
"Saaaaaaaammmmmmmmm!? Where are you?? Please, help me!? Please??"
That's when Sam remembered that he was in Dean's dream, it wasn't real - yet Sam knew beyond a doubt that this had happened to his older brother - was probably still happening as far as Dean was concerned. He figured the best place to help him would be in his subconscious. Dean had always hidden his emotions there when he was alive… wait, no, he was alive now, too! Not dead! Alive! Focus, Sammy. Find his subconscious, and you'll find Dean. Sam wasn't entirely sure the last two thoughts were his own, it seemed to be very much like something his father would have said to him. God, dad, I wish you were here. No. Dad got Dean out of hell. The least I can do is save my brother from himself.
Sam wandered through this new world, feeling somewhat like an awkward bystander, not to mention a peeping tom, seeing as this was his brother's deepest darkest secrets and he was seeing them without his permission. He pushed that thought out of his mind. His main priority had to be finding his brother, he couldn't allow himself to worry about Dean's 'personal space'.
This dream walking stuff was undeniably weird, though. Sam seemed to be turning corners which weren't there, opening doors that didn't really exist. Soon, he came to a room that looked oddly familiar. When he gazed at the room's occupants, it became glaringly obvious as to where he was. Sam looked at himself pinned up against one wall. Dean was up against another. Standing in front of Dean was their father. Sam walked around to stand beside his brother, facing his dad, knowing what he was going to see before he even saw it… yellow eyes. 'You fight and fight for this family but the truth is, they don't need you… not like you need them.'
Sam's heart broke at the realization that Dean was still reliving this moment in his mind but, then again, Sam still had nightmares about it himself.
'Sam? He's clearly John's favourite. Even when they fight, that's more concern than he's ever shown you.' Hearing his father say those cruel, heartless - and, totally untrue - words to his older brother was torture for Sam, then and now. Even worse was the fact that Sam was pretty sure that Dean never really believed him when he told him that they were all lies. Which made him even more thankful for this second chance to prove to his brother, once and for all, how immensely important he is to those around him… especially to Sam. Suddenly, blood began pouring from Dean's mouth and several wounds opened on his chest and stomach. Unable to watch anymore, Sam left the room but made a mental note to talk to Dean about it - again - later.
As he walked by several different scenes of his brother's all too eventful 29 years, Sam discovered that his suspicions about his brother's tendency to pretend nothing bothered him were all too true. He didn't stop to watch each scene though because he had a mission to complete - finding his brother. Besides, he was pretty sure that he had been present for most of the traumatic things Dean had had to endure, and had no urge to relive them.
It seemed like he had been walking forever before he finally came to a door that looked different from all the rest. There were several locks on this one and it seemed to blend in more with its surroundings, as if trying to hide in plain sight - something Dean had tried to do all his life… hide without looking like he was hiding.
Sam tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge and he didn't have the keys. Then again, maybe he did. He closed his eyes and thought about how much his brother meant to him, how much he loved him. He thought about how Dean had practically raised him - bandaged the skinned knees, helped him with his homework, even told him about the birds and the bees (and what a fun conversation that had been!). When Sam opened his eyes again, the door was gone. Smiling, the younger Winchester stepped into the large white room and turned around just in time to see the door materialize again behind him. He looked around and saw Dean huddled in a corner, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the night he… the night the hellhounds had attacked.
"Dean?" Sam asked, approaching his brother cautiously. Dean ignored him, keeping his face buried between his arms and the walls on either side of him. Sam placed his hand gently on the older Winchester's shoulder and felt him try to cringe away. "Dude, it's okay. It's just me. It's Sam." He felt his brother's body begin to shake beneath his touch.
"No, no, no. Please, not again."
"Not again," Sam asked, crouching down next to him. "What do you mean, not again?" He quickly came to the conclusion that the demons must have made Dean think Sam was there before. They probably did the same thing with dad and mom, too. "Dean, you're safe. Dad got you out. You're home now." Sighing loudly when his brother still did not turn around, Sam decided to try another approach. He forcefully pulled his brother around to face him, cupping his face in his hands. "We don't have time for this, Dean," he said, doing his best to channel their father. "Look down at your right hand. Can you feel anything different?" Dean glanced down at his hand and saw that it was bent slightly, and there was an odd pressure against his skin, as if he was holding something. "Yes, Dean," Sam said, excited now as he saw the realization in his brother's eyes. "That's me. I'm holding your hand, man. And, I really need you to wake up and tell me that I'm girly, to call me a bitch, to tell me to lay off the chick-flick moments. C'mon, big brother, I need you to wake up."
Dean looked from his hand back up at Sam with a look of confusion in his eyes, but Sam was sure there was some recognition there, as well.
"It won't make a difference, you know."
Sam whirled around at the sound of the new voice in the room but no one was there. "Lilith," he said, venom in his voice.
"Aw, Sammy, you remembered. I'm touched."
"Dean is out of hell. Dad told me -- "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was there. But, did you really think I would let my prized possession get away that easily? Do you have any idea how long I had been waiting to have your precious brother in my grasp. So, yes, your daddy may have gotten Dean out of hell but he didn't get me out of Dean. I'm still here and I'm gonna stay here. And, there's nothing you can do about it! Maybe I can't torture his body anymore, but I sure can torture his mind. Dean is still my toy and I'm not done playing yet!"
"No-no-no-no." Sam spun around to face Dean again. It looked like his brother had been following the conversation and Sam was able to see a bit of his big brother in those eyes again. But not enough. Not enough to defeat Lilith and wake up. The younger Winchester hauled his older brother to his feet and prayed that he wouldn't regret what he was going to say next - prayed that he would have a chance to make up for it. "Suck it up, Winchester," he said in his best 'dad' imitation. "It's time… To wake… Up." Sam's heart soared when Dean finally nodded his understanding.
"Even if he wakes up, he'll still be mine. He'll be broken in so many ways, even you won't be able to put him back together again, Sammy."
"Yeah?" Sam replied, defiantly. "Watch me."
TBC
