phew! i'm down to the wire on this one, but it's still the 24th where I am so I still have managed to post each day! I had family down today and then we all went to a corn maze/apple orchard. It was a lot of fun, but left me scrambling to get this done! I think it turned out well despite parts of it being written on my phone in snippets whenever I had a spare second lol.

No. 24: YOU'RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE

prompt options: Forced Mutism, Blindfolded, Sensory Deprivation

Nightmare.

It had to be a nightmare.

Only a nightmare would leave him feeling so disoriented and afraid.

Right?

Dean blinked in the darkness.

Darkness? Dark like he was dreaming. Dark like it was the middle of the night in the bunker and the lights were all out. He couldn't see anything which, ok, so a nightmare. Middle of the night. Ok. He just had to reach for the lamp…

His hand brushed through free air. Through nothingness. Where was the end table?

He sat up. Or thought he did. Everything was strangely disconnected. He felt...he felt nothing. Nothing at all. Not a memory foam mattress beneath him. Not hard ground. Nothing.

Was he floating?

Dreaming. He had to still be dreaming.

Fingers pressing to his eyes - were they open? He couldn't tell, couldn't feel anything.

Normally, this was the moment a chill would run down his spine, but right now, there was nothing.

"Sam?" he called out into nothingness.

He didn't hear a reply.

He didn't hear...anything.

Licking lips that most surely had to be dry but he couldn't feel, he called out again, "Sam!"

The silent darkness swallowed everything up into itself. Like a vacuum.

Like a nightmare.

His skin should be crawling, but there was nothing. Rubbing his hands over his arms, and there was nothing, not even the sensation of the movement. For awhile, he sat - floated? - in the bubble of dark nothingness, trying to think.

He couldn't feel anything, but at least his brain still worked.

Where had he been? What had he been doing? Where was Sam? There was a dark nothingness where all those memories should have been. Terror began to creep through him.

"Sam!" he shouted this time, his ears rang and his throat hurt from the effort.

Except that they didn't.

He couldn't hear his own voice.

Nothing.

He couldn't see or hear anything and he couldn't feel anything either.

Panic took over where terror had started.

He screamed, he struggled, he reached out for something, for anything. His heart should have been pounding wildly in his chest, but there was absolutely no sensation...of anything.

At some point, everything went away completely.

It was just...gone.

He was gone.

And he was grateful.

Something touched his arm and Dean screamed.

This time, the sound flayed his throat, his skin burned with sensation at the touch, and his eyes opened to blinding light.

"Dean! Dean… it's ok...it easy...just me."

There was a voice above him somewhere, a dark, blurry form hovering over him. The voice was a boom of thunder and Dean clapped his hands over his ears at the agony. He squeezed his eyes closed and twisted away from the scalding touch on his arm. It was all too overwhelming. Too much sensation where there had been none.

A moment ago? A day ago? There was no sense of time in his mind. How long had he been without any sensation only to now have it back in overwhelming intensity?

"...going to be ok," the voice - Sam, it had to be Sam - said. "Just breathe."

There were no more touches, and the brightness faded a bit against Dean's closed eyelids. He focused on his breathing like he'd been instructed. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but nothing was clear.

"...was drugs…" Sam's voice was going in and out like static. "...don't know what….kept you under...been two days and…"

Two days?

It had only been two days?

He reached out through the nothingness and this time his searching hand closed around his brother's wrist.

"Sammy?"

Ground glass in his throat. Voice wrecked. It hurt. It hurt and he could feel it and he needed that. Needed to feel.

"I'm right here."

Dean forced his eyes open. Dazzling light skewered his nerve endings and it was the most wonderful thing in the world. He squeezed his brother's wrist, gripping with both hands now, staring up at him.

"Happened?" he asked, the glorious pain in his throat tearing at him again.

"Later," Sam answered, his voice lower now, but still a thunderous antithesis to the stifling silence that had enveloped Dean for too long. "We can talk about it later, but we need to get out of here."

Sam was pulling on him, every touch a glorious agony of sensation. The room spun, but Dean managed to take in dingy grey walls. A bank of medical equipment in the corner. Filthy, rusty stretchers lined up in a morbid row.

"Hospital?" Dean asked, head spinning.

"That's where we're going, yes."

Dean squinted at the gritty room he was being dragged through. It looked like a hospital but Sam said they were going to a hospital. So they weren't at a hospital already? He shook his head, his breath loud in his ears. So confused.

"Dream?"

"Nightmare," Sam said, his grip tightening and his steps moving faster.

Struggling to keep up, Dean asked, "You're in my nightmare?"

"You're awake, Dean."

"I am?"

"You are." Sam used his free hand to pat his chest. "I know you're confused."

Confused didn't even begin to cover it.

"So this isn't a nightmare?"

"It was. But I found you."

"Thanks," Dean muttered, struggling to keep on his feet. "I...couldn't… there was...there was just nothing."

"It was the drugs. The Vetala. It was creative." Sam was pushing him down. "Kept you drugged to feed on you over a longer period of time."

Dean put his hands down and there was soft, familiar leather beneath his skin. He rubbed the leather, savoring the sensation. Everything felt so much. It was wonderful.

"Dean?" Sam was crouched down in front of him, his fingers digging into Dean's knees hard enough to bruise.

"What?"

"I asked if you were ok. Four times."

"Sorry," Dean said, studying his brother and marveling at sight. And touch. "I can feel your hands."

Sam nodded, squeezing a bit tighter. "They did a number on you, didn't they?"

"I think so." Dean touched Sam's shoulder. He could feel him. He was real. "You look worried."

Sam nodded again. "I am worried."

"But you found me and killed the thing, right?"

"Yes."

Dean smiled, his face tingling at the movement. "So let's go."

"Ok." Sam pushed himself to his feet.

A moment later, he was behind the wheel of the car. The engine roared to life and Sam asked, "Best sound you've ever heard, right?"

Head resting against the cool window, Dean watched the colorful scenery and said, "Second best."

"Second?"

"Your voice was the first thing I heard in two days."

"It's good to hear your voice, too." Sam smiled, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. The two days had obviously been hard on him, if in a different way.

Dean returned the smile, then settled more comfortably in the seat.

He wanted to know the details of what had happened. Felt increasingly sick to his stomach as his senses and awareness returned. Wasn't looking forward to the hospital visit that was next on the agenda.

But for now?

For now, he was going to relish simply being alive, having all his senses intact, and seeing his brother alive beside him.

Thanks for reading! I don't know when tomorrow's will be posted, but I'm determined to get it posted so it may appear super late again lol. Better late than never!

tomorrow's theme/prompts: No. 25: I THINK I'LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS, Disorientation, Blurred Vision, Ringing Ears