Chapter Seven- Insanity vs. Reality

"Hell is not exactly the most wanted place to be." Sam sneered, watching in satisfaction as the colour washed out of the so-called 'Dean'. "The torture was brutal. From the moment you opened your eyes until the moment you passed out, all you could feel was pain. They used to rip my limbs away from my body, grind away the flesh from my bare bones, used me as their own personal punching bag. Then when you awake, your body would be perfectly intact. No scars, not wounds, no bruises, nothing. It was as if it never happened. As if it was just a never ending nightmare, only to be repeated over and over again from the moment you open your eyes. The only injury is the broken and battered soul that burns deep inside you."

The words rolled off his tongue in a spiteful and taunting tone, easily hiding the pain that was hidden deep in his chest, spiralling in emotional hurt and anguish behind his recount. Seeing the petrified look on the imposter's face as each word flicked off his tongue caused his lips to spread into the sinister smile that always seemed to take over, silently grateful for the pain Sam was able to inflict on him without even physically touching him or using his powers.

Dean felt his throat run dry, feeling as if sandpaper was roughly scouring away the extremities of his throat each time he attempted to swallow the miniscule amount of saliva as the horrific images of Sam suffering through this barbaric torture entered his mind, much reflecting the vicious and vile thoughts that his mind constantly created awake or asleep.

For six years he had never been able to escape it, the constant not knowing of what could be happening to Sam at that every moment. He always fought against the urge to finally fall asleep, knowing that there was no music, no people, no conversations or even no inanimate objects to stop these terrible thoughts from dwelling his mind like there was when he was awake. Sleep had now became the compulsory evil, and Dean only allowed it when he knew he could not stay awake no more. He could last without the need for sleep for days, and even when his eyelids are drooping shut, when his mind is fogged, when there was no energy remaining in his body to move a limb, he still fought against himself to not fall asleep, to not face the nightmares he knew he was going to endure like he did every night.

But hearing Sam confirm Dean's worst nightmares made his stomach lurch once more, the bile rising ever so slightly up his throat, threatening to bring up the minimal remaining contents of his stomach.

Knowing that for over six years, his little brother had been in the merciless hands of demons, torturing him in such agonistic and vicious ways that you should only see or hear about in horror movies made the anger and guilt strike Dean like a bullet all over again.

His mind screamed at him to just open his mouth, to just say something. Convince Sam he was Dean. That whatever had taken Sam had indoctrinated and programmed all this false information into his mind, brainwashing him, battering his body, his mind, his soul. Dean wanted to yell his heart out, to scream out all the lies and deceptions until his lungs ran dry. He wanted to get on his hands and knees and beg Sam to believe that what he was saying was true.

But no matter how loud his mind screamed, no matter how much the vile around his heart twisted close, no cries of anger or anguish escaped his open mouth. No forceful or pleading movements were created by his numb body.

"And do you want to know what?" Sam smirked, leaning as far as his bonds allowed towards Dean "One day I'm going to drag you down there myself, and I am going to make you experience the most unimaginable pain you've ever felt, to the point you're going to wish you were never born."

The burning desire in Sam's eyes made Dean heart stop. The seriousness and determination that was plastered on his face confirmed Sam's words into a haunting reality.

"That's enough!" Bobby's deep gruff voice thundered through the small room suddenly, causing both brothers to jump.

Sam quickly adverted and converted his taunting gaze from Dean into a fierce menacing gaze, his teenage face scowled in a threatening glare as he observed the older man from his confined area. Contrasting the emptiness and hollowness of Dean's now pale face as he looked up at Bobby, all hope now gone from his eyes as they silently begged Bobby to reveal to him what to do next.

"Dean, go upstairs. I think it's time for me to have a little chat with Sam 'ere." Bobby kept his face frozen, the demandingness and seriousness plastered clearly on his face as he refused to remove his gaze from the bound teenager.

"Dean now!" Bobby barked as there was an unresponsive reply from Dean. Slowly the young hunter rose, silently making his way past Sam and Bobby, his eyes plastered straight ahead as he slowly trudged out of the small room, doubts, fear and a new sense of defeat now dwelling in his mind.

Once Bobby could no longer see Dean, he turned back to Sam, both participating in a silent stand-off, their eyes plastered to each other's. Intensity and tension lingered in the air as Bobby moved slowly around Sam's bed, neither of them showing any sign of breaking the gaze.

Bobby stood at the end of the bed, forcing the strong, stern mask to remain mortared on his face as the crumpling self-doubt and hatred towards himself punctured his mind as he repeatedly reminded himself that he had to do whatever it took to make Sam realise; no matter how much he hated himself for what he was about to do.

"Listen up! Let's cut the crap." Bobby barked harshly and unexpectedly, causing Sam's body to slightly jerk. "It's obvious you don't believe a goddamn thing that comes out of either of our mouths, and I don't blame you." Sam's eyebrow rose at the words coming out of the older man's mouth, completely engrossed into what he was saying, yet slightly confused as to what point he was getting at.

"But listen here Sam. I'm not like Dean. He can be patient. He can wait all the time in the world for you to finally realise who the hell you really are. But I'm not. I've been waiting six goddamn years for this day, and quite frankly you're pissing me off with all this 'Dean's dead' 'I'm going to kill you' bullshit." Sam's eyes darkened once more and his upper lip curled, a threatening scowl that darkened his whole face.

"I'm not going to sit around here watching you be one of those monsters I've spent so many years hunting, treating the brother who basically raised you like scum. So here's what I'm gunna do. If I'm right you haven't eaten in 'round bout three or so days, so I bet ya a lil hungry?" At the mere mention of food Sam's stomach growled, and Sam silently cursed at himself for allowing himself to appear even remotely weak.

"That's what I thought." Bobby smirked, forcing a menacing laugh out when honestly each word that had been said stabbed him deeper in deeper. Still being able to see the innocent ten year old in the hollow and empty eyes caused the guilt behind his actions to escalate at a dramatic rate, but he knew he had to do it.

It was the only way.

"I can manage. I've survived longer without food." Sam muttered hatefully.

"Here's the deal. You talk, open up Dean and each night you'll have a warm meal; and as bonus points each day you go without threatening him or attacking him, I'll remove one of those handcuffs."

He didn't want to give him. It fought about everything he had grown to know, to stay strong and fight, to not show any kind of weakness, to not give in and follow anyone else's orders than that of Yellow Eyes. His mind fought tooth and nail against itself, trying to determine which option he should go for; either die a slow, almost agonising death, tied to this bed without a hint of dignity, or give in to the older man requests, playing along to this game of deception as innocently as he could until he was free from his constraints and when that small window of opportunity would finally reveal itself, he would murder both of them, with or without the use of his powers.

Reluctantly he nodded his head once, quick and sharp, his face still masking any expressions from surfacing. The movement may have been quick, but Bobby had seen it. The dreaded feeling sunken deep in his stomach now slightly rose as new hope began to surface.

Keeping up his charade, Bobby allowed a returned nod, equally as short and sharp before moving himself closer to the door, almost missing the menacing smile that Sam's lips unnoticeably formed.

Almost.

Spinning around he faced the young teenager, anger pulsed harshly through his veins as the realisation set in. This was not a bad cop routine now, this was a pure 100% pissed off Bobby Singer.

"Do you think I'm a bloody idjit do ya? Do you think I'm not aware of all the little ideas pulsing through that mind of yours? Well you listen 'ere boy. There is no way in hell am I letting you loose anytime soon. You may be the boy that I once considered a son but there is no way in hell am I risking you to try and hurt your own goddamn brother! That kid has barely slept for six years looking for your ass and not on my watch is he going to be in any sign of danger when I'm around. So you can forget about that once-a-day deal, I'll only be removing those handcuffs when I start to see the Samuel Winchester I know."

"He's not my brother." Sam hissed.

"You might not think he is now, but there was a time when you did." Bobby said flatly, reaching into his vest pocket and obtaining the small worn out and crinkled photograph, forcefully placing it in Sam's bound hand before slamming the iron door shut.

-x-

Seconds past, then minutes, how many; Sam was unsure of.

He could still feel the battered photograph in his hand, feeling the creases perfectly. He laid there, looking straight up at the large rotating fan, trying to ignore the nagging persistence in his mind to simply look at the mystery photograph in his hand.

He knew he could simply let it go, allow it to fall to the floor where he knew he wouldn't be able to see it even if he wanted too, but the thing was he actually wanted to.

Ever since the eccentric yet somewhat familiar word 'idjit' had escaped the older man's mouth, an unknown entity had grown inside of him somehow telling the young boy that he had heard this foreign word before, but no matter how much he dug into his mind he couldn't quite pin point just where the source had come from.

Giving in, Sam craned his stiffened neck to the side, his eyes growing wide at the image before him. A memory that he had not experienced in so long resurfaced before him, causing tears of confusion and want to fall from his eyes.

-x-

Four year old Sam stirred as he felt his body being lifted from the leathery seats of the Impala. Opening his eyes slowly he saw Dean's face above his, highlighting his features by the interior lights of the car.

"De'n? Where are we?" Sam slurred groggily, fatigue washing over him.

"Shh Sammy. Go back to sleep." Dean hushed. Sam willingly complied with Dean's permission and allowed his head to fall limply against Dean's chest, once again falling into the world of slumber.

-x-

Awaking next morning, he felt his heart rate increasing as he tried to fully contemplate his surroundings. By now he was used to waking up at foreign motel rooms, but from the moment he opened his eyes, he knew this was no motel room.

As fast as his little legs could carry him he ran to the closed bedroom door and pulled desperately at the door handle. Grunting in frustration and on the verge of tears Sam's thoughts darted to his older brother, wondering why he wasn't with him now.

After a few more attempts of trying to pry the door handle open panic eventually started to overtake him. Tears fell freely as he cried out for Dean, his sobs close to hysterical.

Thunderous footsteps raced up the stairs, causing the floor and walls to vibrate. Sam swallowed hard, backing away a few steps from the door, tears still falling freely from the small child's face.

"Sammy?!" A foreign voice called out, the use of his nickname caused his breath to hitch, he only allowed Dean to call him that, and the owner to the voice was not Dean.

"Dean!" he called out, terrified.

The door handle jiggled and jerked, before the entire frame of the door buckled suddenly as if someone was trying to force their way in. Sam stood frozen, fear striking him as the door moved in fierce movements until the wooden door flew open suddenly, a large and unfamiliar figure standing in its entrance.

"Dean please!" He called out once more in desperation as he felt his legs give way as he collapsed to the floor, terror plastered over the young child's face.

"Sam…" the stranger called softly, edging his way closer to the trembling child.

"Sammy!" Dean desperately called out as he raced his way up the stairs.

"Dean!" Sam called in relief, running towards Deans, almost bowling the nine year old over as he gripped his shirt with such force his knuckles turned white, and buried himself into Dean's chest.

"Woah! Sammy! What's going on?!" Dean asked, overwhelmed by the reaction of his younger brother.

"The-the door got st-tuck a-and I-I didn't kn-ow wh-where I-I wa-s a-and you weren't th-ere, then he-e came ou-t of no-wh-where." Sam sobbed, his voice muffled from the fabric of Dean's T-shirt.

"Woah woah woah! Sammy relax!" Dean reassured, trying to stifle his laugh behind his soothing words. "Remember how Dad said he had to go on a really long business trip?" Dean felt Sam nod against his stomach. "Well you see Dad couldn't leave us in a motel like usual because he's gunna be gone for so long. So last night he drove us here to stay with Bobby." Sam turned his head to the side to see the older man before him give an awkward wave to the young child.

Dean smiled as he felt the tension from Sam's body leave and slowly removed his arms from around the small boy. Sam wiped the stray tears from his cheeks and spread his lips into a small smile. Walking over to Bobby in a strong stance, all evidence of his small breakdown now almost non-existence, he held out his right hand.

"Sam."

"Bobby." Bobby stated, smiling as he grasped the youngster's hand and shook it.

"Now." Sam began, his face serious and determined as he eyed the two personnel in the room. "Can we fix that stupid door handle?"

-x-

Sam stared blankly at the two figures incorporating the image. The image of the four year old version of himself and his brother standing proudly next to the brand new door handle they managed to install. Dean's arm was slung around Sam's shoulder as both proudly wore a smile fuelled by achievement.

Sam's thoughts fought as they tried to determine what was real and what was fiction.

Had everything he had been told since he was taken an absolute lie?

Was what these possible 'imposters' telling him the whole time true?

Was that really the same Bobby that Sam had once considered to be another father figure in his life?

Did that mean Dean was still alive?

Did that mean that he really was Dean?

Doubts started to cross his mind. He questioned everything he had ever been told, trying to determine what was real, what was a lie. Thousands of scenarios flooded his mind as he tried to make sense of his life, of himself.

"That the door knob photo?" a voice casually called out.

Sam's head darted to the source of the voice, his eyes alive and livid, before adverting his gaze as he saw 'Dean' standing before him.

Dean shoved his free hand awkwardly into his jean pocket, fingering the loose thread on the inside of them, trying to ignore the uncertainty and tension between the two brothers.

"Was-Was that man Bobby?" Sam silently asked shakily as he kept his gaze plastered on the rotating fan above him.

"You remember him?" Dean asked, a new sense of hope filling his chest.

"I remember everything." Sam admitted his voice becoming dark and edgy.

"Like what?" Dean pushed on, trying to gain a better insight and understanding on just what had happened to Sam.

"Everything. That night. Every night after that. The threats and torture. Killing all those innocent people."

Once more Dean felt his heart beginning to break. But at the same time, the fact that Sam was beginning to open up to Dean willingly, without the slightest hint of hatred or threat of death made Dean's heart soar. Absorbed in the moment, Dean stepped forward, a step closer to Sam.

In a flash Sam was once again looking directly at Dean, his eyes burning in hatred and fear. "Don't come near me." he hissed, spite and anger flowing from his mouth in venom.

Dean threw both his cast and free hand infront of himself as a sign of surrender, instead moving slowly in long movements around the bed before sitting down on the old metal chair he had thrown only a few hours ago.

The silence dwelled, seeming time was going ten times slower. When it became apparent that Sam wasn't going to say anything Dean pushed the matter forward, determined to get some sort of explanation out of Sam.

"Why'd you do it Sam? Why'd you kill all those people?" 'The Sam I knew never would have done that…'He wanted to add, instead redirecting his thoughts to fight the expressions of emotional pain from becoming present on his features, and to keep his voice in a mutual tone, trying his hardest not to allow his voice to break.

"You wouldn't understand." Sam hissed, staring blankly once more at the rotating fan above him.

"Try me." Dean said flatly, his tone implying 'You-don't-have-a-bloody-option -now-spill-it'.

"I didn't even have a choice." Sam said flatly, his expression frozen in an unreadable mask, the only indication of any kind of emotion coming from his bottom lip, which was quivering slightly, as if he was in the brink of tears.

Dean felt his heart swell. He leant forward on the metal chair, leaning his elbows on his knees, just wanting to be closer to him, to give Sam some sort if sign that he was there, that he actually cared.

"What do you mean you didn't have a choice?" Dean asked calmly, fighting away the anger that was brewing under the surface.

"I already killed Dean. They threatened to kill Dad too if I didn't do what they wanted." Sam admitted for an unknown reason, regretting it the moment it had escaped his mouth.

Dean froze. The sudden confession tore his heart and made the blood in his veins boil. Unshed tears welled in his eyes and he forced himself to look away from the now confused teenager, knowing that if he were to look into those hazel brown eyes he would finally break.

"What aren't you telling me?!" Sam demanded, noting the almost instant reaction given off from the older figure.

Dean stayed silent, wishing he didn't have to tell Sam what he knew.

"Tell me!" Sam demanded, practically screaming at Dean as he struggled against his bonds to become free.

"Sammy stop it goddamn it!" Dean screamed as he stood up, noting the forcing Sam was using as blood started to flow from the newly cut flesh from the handcuffs.

"Tell me!" He screamed once again, anger, determination and hatred scrawled across his face.

Dean collapsed back down on the metal chair, his breath hitching as the horrific memories started to present themselves.

"Sam…. Dad's dead."

-x-