A/N: I have no idea how this chapter got so long... oh well, thanks for sticking with this if you're still here after the last chapter.
Chapter seventeen
There was confusion everywhere. Dean had never seen anyone killed so abruptly, especially not someone he actually liked, and it was still rattling his his foundations as he was trying to shout through the musty rag in his mouth.
The demon was moving towards Sam now, it knelt and put it's fingers either side of Sam's head. It muttered some weird nonsense that Dean couldn't really make out and then Sam's head dropped to his chest. Suddenly there was black smoke writhing around the room like a grim shadow of what had happened at his dad's house before it escaped though the solid wall.
The host body dropped.
Stillness rippled out from the prone corpse. It took a few moments for the last ripple to fade and then the room erupted in tumultuousness again.
Kaiser practically ran towards Rufus and ripped the gag out of his mouth, "You said that... Thing was a demon?"
Rufus looked the frightened man up and down before replying, "Yeah, that's right."
"Will it come back to finish the rest of us off?"
"Maybe. Demons are pure evil. They love chaos for chaos' sake... But I can help you protect yourself."
"And what protection can you offer us?" Kaiser asked condescendingly after flickering his gaze over the rest of the prisoners. "The Flaming Arrows are the most feared gang in America, we won't be tricked by that demon again."
"And how are you going to do that? Demons can posses anyone they want to, and your little toy soldiers aren't gonna put even a scratch on that demon with those guns. You saw what it did, it killed a girl with a snap of its fingers, you don't think it couldn't do the same to you and everyone else in your little gang?"
Kaiser pursed his lips as he pondered Rufus' words. He was trying to act casual but the pallor of his face betrayed him.
"We can show you how to defend yourself, we can teach you about what actually works against those things. Before it comes back with its friends." Rufus continued, obviously sensing the chink in Kaiser's armour.
"Yes. Teach us what to do." Kaiser said, desperation leaking into his voice.
"First let us go. Then I'll set up some protection for you."
Kaiser only hesitated for a moment before agreeing; Dean had never seen that man so shaken. But then again, Dean hadn't exactly been cool during his first brush with the supernatural... He still wasn't.
It was a testament to how out of his depth Kaiser was, how quickly everyone was untied. Jess was untied and laid out on the floor respectfully, Rufus was talking to Kaiser about wardings and sigils and other crap Dean couldn't care less about. Bobby had made a beeline for Sam as his brother's bonds were being loosed. His brother who had killed his own mom, who had shot Dean's mom right between the eyes. Dean had been - reluctantly - starting to like the kid, even before he knew they were brothers there had been a grudging respect beginning to grow, and now...
How could something like that ever be forgiven?
And the demon hadn't lied, the look on Sam's face had confirmed that much. Dean didn't know how to feel. He simply watched as Bobby carefully lowered Sam to the floor.
He jumped when Bobby shouted, "He's not dead! He's still breathing!"
Dean felt his dad come to stand beside him and he wondered if his dad had ever felt as empty and confused Dean did right then.
Bobby tried to wake Sam, first by coaxing and shaking, then by shouting and slapping. Rufus by now was bending over Sam too.
Rufus said a hand on Bobby's shoulder, "Stop Bobby, it's no use. That demon worked some freaky mojo crap on him and you're not gonna wake him up by shouting."
Bobby sighed and swiped a hand over his forehead, removing his cap in a practiced motion to do so. "You're right, let's ward this place so we can get Sam out of here."
Rufus and Bobby moved off to organise the ranks of the gang and Dean was left standing next to his dad over the stretched out bodies of Sam and Jess, arranged next to each other like it was some sort of screwed up fairy tale.
"Why do you think he did it?" Dean asked, a little hoarse after all the shouting he had done.
"I don't know Dean. This whole situation is beyond me."
"But what possible reason could anyone have for shooting their own mother?"
"I don't know Dean."
"I mean, it wasn't like it was an accident, he shot her in the freaking face!"
"Dean I really don't know." John replied with a hard edge of exasperation in his voice.
Dean had no desire to make himself useful. People were in motion around him but no one was paying him any attention which was just as well because it was all he could do to not have a full on break down as he was trying to wrap his mind around too many bombshells at once.
Suddenly, Bobby was in front of Dean without him seeing how he got there, "Son, you wanna give me a hand getting Sam to the car?"
Dean blinked and focused on Bobby, he finally registered what the man had said but still hesitated.
Bobby noticed though, "Dean, we need to get Sam outta here and I can't manage him by myself. We'll check into the first motel we see and then we can figure out what to do."
"Did you know what happened?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, I did. And that demon wasn't telling the whole truth neither. So pull that thumb out of your ass and get lifting. I'll fill you in later."
But before Dean could be goaded into action, Kaiser called out to him. Dean turned and saw his old boss, surrounded by the family that had brought him into adulthood, the family that had channelled his teenage anger into something more... Well, he couldn't really say he was more constructive with his anger after joining them, in fact he was more destructive than ever - only he no longer had to deal with the fallout.
Until these past few weeks.
"I think we can all agree," began Kaiser, "that things have gotten a bit out of hand recently. In light of what's just happened, family and sticking together are the most important things right now. I'm willing to forget all your transgressions and welcome you back, if you can forget about these people. They may claim to be your family, but they were never there for you like we were."
"Dean, don't you even think about it," John growled from somewhere over Dean's shoulder, "or else next time I won't even let you get as far as the door before I pull my shotgun out."
"Hear that Dean? Why would you want to throw your lot in with a father that threatens you, who's always rejecting you? Or with a brother that killed his own mother?" Kaiser shook his head, "look I'll even stop sending you to steal medicine, you'll just be tracking down and beating up regular scumbags. You were always our best brawler. Have we got a deal?"
Dean hesitated. Sure, Kaiser was a real piece of work, and abrasive was probably the most diplomatic term he could come up with to describe the rest of the goons that worked for him... but it had been a nice life. A simple life. The only troubles he'd had were getting the job done - he didn't have to bother with caring about anyone else because they didn't really care about him, and he was comfortable with that. The booze had been free-flowing and the girls had been hot, plentiful and extremely willing...
"Boy, do you think for one second that if Sam had outright murdered your mother that I would have stuck by him all this time?" Bobby interrupted Dean's internal debate, "I know you gotta have a lot of questions: about her, about why she left and how she died. I can answer some of them and Sam can answer more - and if you got any questions left over I can track down the people who know the answers to them as well. If you go with them, you'll never find the answers you're looking for."
Dammit! Bobby had a point. In fact he had several very good points. He had hit right on to the one thing Dean couldn't ignore; the day he joined the Flaming Arrows he had abandoned any thought of ever having a relationship with his dad again - until recently - but the thought of his mom, all the questions he had and all the mysteries that shrouded her, had never been far from his mind. And now those answers were actually, finally, within his grasp... All he had to do was help her killer.
Dean closed his eyes and huffed. He would never be able to forgive himself if he let this opportunity pass him by. Even if he didn't like the answers he got, it had to be better than spending his whole life wondering.
"You go ahead, Kaiser. I think it's safe to say I'm not an Arrow anymore."
"Fine," Kaiser snarled, "but don't come crawling back when your game of happy families doesn't work out the way you want it to." And with that, Kaiser and his Flaming Arrows swept out of the building.
Dean turned back to his brother, glancing momentarily at Bobby who merely nodded at him before bending down to hoist Sam up and out to the car. He didn't even look at his dad once.
They left town fairly quickly and were only on the road for half an hour before the next town came into view. Dean was once again called on to help manoeuvre Sam into one of the rooms and onto the bed. He was just straightening up as his dad entered the room and they both looked at Bobby expectantly. Neither had forgotten Bobby's promise of an explanation.
"I've called a friend of mine." Bobby began. He pulled the sheet over Sam's bare chest and made his way to the table, dropping himself into a seat, "She's a psychic - a natural born psychic, no demon blood - and she said she'll be here in a few hours."
"Bobby I want to know what that demon was talking about. Tell me why Sam shot his mother." John demanded.
Bobby sighed heavily, "She was possessed. The same demon that just killed Jess, it possessed Mary and tried to kill him."
"But bullets don't work on demons," Dean argued, "I shot one and all it did was piss it off."
Bobby scraped his hands down his face, leaning his elbows on the cheap table. "Rufus, why don't you go and pick up some dinner while I explain this?"
"Do I look like your PA?" Rufus retorted.
"Stop whining and just get on with it." Bobby bit back before returning his attention to Dean and John, "It's true most guns don't work on demons, just the host. But there's one that was made by some old hunter back in the day; if you use one of the bullets made specially for it, that gun can kill practically anything."
"Ok... So what's the difference between this gun and an exorcism?" Dean asked. "That got rid of the demons pretty good last time."
"When you exorcise a demon, all you're doing is sending it back to the pit it came from; if it crawled out once, it's gonna crawl out again - and the more powerful the demon, the quicker it will manage it. This colt actually kills it, as far as we can tell, once you shoot a demon or whatever with this gun, it's never seen or heard of again, either here or in hell. The thing you shoot can never hurt anyone else again... Plus exorcisms don't seem to work on that demon, he's too powerful." Bobby explained.
"But you kill the host?" asked Dean, not quite keeping the note of accusation out of his voice. He was still comprehending the implications of what Bobby had said. It sounded like some dodgy star trek episode, sacrificing the needs of the one for the needs of the many.
Bobby levelled a glare at Dean, "I don't know exactly what happened, it took a long while for Sam to say even a word about it. All I know is that Mary was gonna kill him, but Azazel somehow managed to smoke out in the nick of time. He was seventeen and he was about to die by his mother's hand, even if she was possessed. What would you have done?"
Dean wanted to say that there was no way he could kill his own mother like that... And Bobby could tell. "Boy, don't get to saying how you wouldn't." Bobby said tiredly, "You can sit here in a nice, comfy motel room spouting off about what you would and wouldn't do while you're all calm and safe - but until you're in the heat of the moment, when you've got all that adrenaline running through you and your own life is hanging on a split-second decision... That's when, and only when, you know what you'd do."
Bobby sat back in his chair and Dean looked over at Sam wondering, trying to unpick the mysteries that seemed to form a tapestry around his brother. Everything he had discovered seemed to be only a half-truth leading to more questions.
"That all sounds... kinda unbelievable." John commented after a few moments.
"Yeah, this whole damn week has been kinda unbelievable," Dean muttered, earning a disapproving look from John.
"That's hunting, no one believes you until it's too late," added Bobby bitterly.
After a beat of silence, John cleared his throat and said, "Since we've got a bit of time to kill before your friend gets here, I'm going to freshen up a bit. Dean, you coming?"
Dean shot a glance at his enigmatic brother before following John to their room for the night. Dean could feel his dad's tension like it was an unreachable itch somewhere around the back of his neck. The itch had been steadily growing until even Dean with his intense natural aversion to anything that resembled feelings - an inclination he shared with his father - could no longer ignore it.
"Dad, what are you thinking?"
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; he turned to face Dean before he spoke.
"Dean when I came home from serving in the marines I thought I could face pretty much anything. But this is so far beyond... Everything. All the crap that happened with Mary and then you, maybe I didn't deal with it as well as I could've done or as I should've done, but I dealt with it. This... It's just too far above my paygrade." John tried to explain.
"Too far above your paygrade?"
"Apparently demons exist Dean, do you know what that means? Everything we know about to world is wrong. I can't just... Get over it, just like that. And now much do you even know about these hunters anyway? Everything we know about demons has come from them."
"Why on earth would anyone wanna trick you about something like this? You don't have that much money!" Dean protested scathingly.
"I don't know Dean! That's what I'm trying to say, in the last few days you've come back into my life, bringing a son I never even knew I had - and that's a revelation on its own! Next thing I know, psychic powers are real, I'm being attacked by demons and then my son is being kidnapped and tortured by your old gang which is now, for some reason, extremely upset with you and I then find out that he shot Mary - but it was all in self defence? ...And in the midst of all this an innocent girl has died! It's all happened so fast, I feel like I don't even know what's real anymore. I just need time to just wrap my head around it all."
Well, when he put it like that... Dean could hardly blame the man for needing a minute to process.
John waited for a rebuttal but Dean didn't have one, and when that became clear, John muttered that he needed a shower and then disappeared into the bathroom after grabbing his things from his bag.
Once he was alone Dean sighed and flopped onto one of the beds. It creaked slightly under the assault of his weight but was otherwise quite comfortable. It wasn't like Dean couldn't sympathise with his dad, his head was spinning too, he was just worried that when his dad did deal with this, it would be like when he was little all over again.
Rather than dwell on that, Dean tried to steer his thoughts towards... He didn't know. There wasn't a big enough distraction he could lose his mind in to get away from the events of the last few days.
He couldn't believe Jess was gone. Like he had with Sam, he had come to have a grudging respect for her... Had even grown a little fond of her.
He should never have let her come with them, he should have just made her walk away, getting the police involved was a major hassle but it wasn't like he had never had to deal with that before...
Now he had flipped that switch, he just couldn't seem to turn the guilt off.
Dean couldn't wait for his turn in the shower, over all he hadn't been held captive for very long - a couple of hours at most? He could feel rope burn on his wrists and a bruise developing on his jaw but the worst was the nervous sweat that covered his entire body, now dried and congealed with the dust and grime from the room.
He really needed that shower.
He also needed to work out whether he was gonna give Sam and Bobby the time of day or not.
When Dean finally got his turn in the shower he tried to clear his mind and just focus on the feeling of the water cleansing him and he imagined it was cleansing his soul as well.
He focused on the tiles in front of him, they were a warm, inviting cream colour and, along with the droplets and the steam, they helped keep up the illusion that he was being cocooned safely away from the outside world. But eventually he had to leave his steamy sanctuary and he did so with reluctance. The cold air was as unforgiving as Dean expected but that wasn't what he was dreading the most.
He was starving by the time Rufus had returned with their dinner. He found it a bit distracting to sit within feet of his comatose brother as he ate, and clearly he wasn't the only one as everyone was quiet and kept stealing the occasional glance at Sam. Even after they had finished eating, silence prevailed.
Dean looked at the other men gathered around the table, they all looked as weary as Dean felt - and then the thought occurred to him that he really didn't know anything about Bobby, and even less about Rufus.
Suddenly it seemed all the more likely that there was some trick going on...
But then Dean thought back to taking Sam by surprise at his college dorm and everything that had happened since and - although the cruel hand of fate was certainly stretching credulity - if there was a trick, it certainly wasn't Sam's doing.
Dean was torn between wanting to retire to his room to catch some shut-eye and staying put in order to be aware as soon as Bobby's psychic friend turned up. The restless bouncing of his leg swayed him towards the latter as his dad announced he was going to do what Dean had just mentally rejected.
At John's enquiring glance Dean shook his head and said, "I'm too wired to be able to get any rest, I'll just hang out here until Pamela arrives then I'll get to bed."
John nodded and bid brief goodbyes to the rest of the occupants of the room and left.
Dean sighed. He got up and put a pot of coffee on to brew, he offered a portion of the beverage to the hunters and received two curt assents. He tapped his fingers in the counter as he waited and began to wish he had some beer rather than coffee when it pinged ready.
Once he had regained his seat at the table, having furnished his new acquaintances with refreshments, he settled in for the wait.
Unfortunately, patience didn't hold that rare title of being one of Dean's virtues. So he decided to distract himself with small talk.
"So how long have you known my brother?" He asked Bobby.
Bobby looked as if he didn't much appreciate the disturbance, but he answered anyway, "Well I think I first met Sam when he was around six. I had needed an extra pair of hands on a hunt and a friend, Ellen Harvelle owns a roadhouse that caters to a lot of hunters, so she sent Mary my way. We hunted a nest of vampires then went back to Harvelle's to toast the job well done and just as Mary was becoming a liability in the bar, out comes this scrawny little runt and calls her mom. I was shocked as hell - we'd been on that hunt for five days and she hadn't mentioned him once, anyway it's rare you meet a hunter with a kid."
"Why's that?" Dean asked.
Bobby scrutinised Dean before answering, "Most people fall into hunting to get revenge, usually over a lost loved one - could be husband or a wife or even a child - not many get to satisfy their lust for revenge and then settle down and have a new family. And bringing a kid with you on the road like that... Well, let's just say I regret not doing more when the kid was little."
"So how did my mom become a hunter?" Dean asked.
"Well, like Sam, she was raised in the life. The Campbells have a long family history of hunting." Bobby explained.
"A family history?" Dean asked disbelievingly.
"Yeah, from what I've gathered anyway. She and Sam have got generations worth of tricks and knowledge up their sleeves."
"So... What? My mom and little brother were super secret badass hunting experts all this time? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" He glanced over to Sam who was looking pretty pitiful with his mottled, swollen face framed by lank, greasy hair. It was one thing to imagine him on the run from demons but it was something else entirely to imagine him hunting down the monsters instead.
Rufus took this opportunity to join the conversation, "Of course they are, how do you think a family can keep going in this business for as long as the Campbells have? In the hunting world, if you're not pretty damn good, you get pretty damn dead real quick."
"Fair point," Dean conceeded.
The room sank gently into silence again, except for the low background noises that are undetectable unless there's an absence of all other sound.
Dean was quietly mulling over what Bobby had said when a word triggered his curiosity once again, "You said Sam was a runt?"
"Yeah," Bobby answered.
Dean looked again at the giant in the room whose feet were hanging over the edge of the bed he'd been placed upon, "How?"
Rufus rolled his eyes as Bobby chuckled. "Yeah it's kinda hard to believe now, but Sam was a scrawny little kid for most of his childhood," Bobby elaborated, "I think he finally hit his growth spurt when he was about fifteen and I'm still not sure if he's stopped growing since."
"Huh," Dean said as he added the information to his mental library of surprises relating to his brother.
Dean looked into the empty mug sat before him and began to imagine running around with Sam, both of them as children. He imagined himself teaching his younger brother basketball on the driveway and then wrestling with him while watching the same sport on tv and maybe, occaisionally, letting Sam score a hoop or pin him for a couple of seconds. He eventually found his fantasy world expanding to include his mom and dad - well, some rose-tinted version of them anyway - and by the time his reverie was disturbed, he had constructed for himself a perfect childhood.
As Dean reestablished an awareness of his surroundings he noted Bobby was already opening the door and Dean caught sight of an attractive woman stalking into the room. She was all swaying hips, exposed cleavage and silky raven curls, and she was maybe a couple of years older than Dean. Dean really wasn't expecting a woman as hot and young as this to know someone like Bobby, but he supposed being a real life psychic probably had some influence over her circle of friends.
Dean rose as the psychic sashayed over to him and introduced herself. Dean found he rather liked the appraising look she gave him and if that wink was anything to go by, she liked what she saw too.
"So Bobby," she said as she twirled to face the older hunter, "what's all this fuss about that you had to drag me here as soon as possible?"
"Well I'm not entirely sure." Bobby admitted. He gestured towards the bed and continued, "Sam here got himself whammied by a pretty powerful demon, he's been unconscious for about six hours now and we can't wake him up."
Pamela turned to observe her patient, she went over to his bedside and, being careful to avoid his bruising, put a hand on his forehead as if she was taking his temperature. She closed her eyes and assumed an expression of intense concentration. She froze in that posture for a few deep, measured breaths before she opened her eyes and let her hand slip away from Sam's face, taking a step back, gaze darting over his form.
"What's the verdict?" Bobby asked.
"This is some seriously evil crap Bobby, you can practically smell it. What did the poor kid do to get on the wrong side of the king of hell?"
Bobby snorted, "He was born."
"Well ain't that a bitch." Pamela replied, "It was hard to get a good look in there but whatever that demon did is making Sam feel a whole host of intense negative emotions. And this spell or whatever it is feels like it's going to be a real bitch to break."
"Is there anything I can do?" Dean asked. He wanted to help Sam so he could find out more about his mom, but what harm would there be if he got a hook up out of it as well?
"You're his brother, right?" Pamela asked.
Dean nodded.
Pamela looked pensive for a few seconds before she answered, "Well I'm hoping it's just a case of breaking whatever spell the demon used, but if not, someone might have to go in and drag him out."
"Go in where?" Dean asked, feeling he'd missed a big, important... something halfway through her reply.
"Into his mind - and if it comes down to that, then it's going to have to be you." Pamela explained distractedly. She looked at Bobby saying, "I need to have a closer look - I'll need to get a couple of things from my car - and try to figure out what kind of thing we're up against. Then I'll probably need to get some more specific ingredients, I only have the basics with me but with a curse this evil I'm going to need something that really packs a punch."
Bobby nodded, "Thanks for coming Pamela, sorry it was such a rush."
Pamela waved placatingly at him, "No biggie, let's just call us even now, yeah?"
"Sure," agreed Bobby with an amused smirk.
"Besides," Pamela added, "you didn't tell me these boys of yours were so handsome."
Dean allowed a smug smirk to play across his face at the compliment, but his vanity wasn't entirely satisfied at the inclusion of his brother.
Pamela turned back to Dean, "You should probably get some rest, there's not much you can do right now besides get in the way, and if I do have to send you into your brother's mind then I want you at the top of your game. Minds are complex and dangerous places to be when they're not your own, especially the mind of a psychic, and I'm betting that curse is going to make everything ten times more dangerous."
"You can tell he's psychic?"
"It takes one to know one," Pamela replied with a wink and waved him out the door.
As tired as Dean was - it was the early hours of the morning by now - he was a little reluctant to fall asleep, and when he did tip over that precipice, it was into an uneasy slumber.
He awoke the next morning - or, as Dean found out when he looked at the clock, early afternoon - to find the familiar sight of breakfast in a bag on the table.
Well, Dean was not one to turn away free food, so he made a beeline for the bag and began tucking in. It didn't take him long to finish his breakfast and get dressed and then he was out the door and making his way to the room which housed the rest of his family and his misfit friends.
As he was closing in on the door, the object in question swung inwards and his dad stopped short at the sight of Dean right in front of him. John invited Dean in with a jerk of his head and Dean followed him into the room.
"Where's Rufus?" Dean asked sitting himself down in the only vacant seat after a quick scan of the room.
"Oh, he took off this morning. Said the only magic he wanted to see was a bottle of whisky disappear." Bobby informed with a roll of his eyes. "Trust me, that son of a bitch had out stayed his usefulness anyway."
"So can you tell us what's actually wrong with Sam now?" John asked.
Pamela nodded and answered, "Sam's trapped in his own worst memories. The spell is using the power of Sam's own mind against him, so we are going to have to send someone in to get him out."
Bobby blew out a heavy breath and leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.
Dean frowned, "That can't be that bad, can it?"
Bobby looked at Dean over his fingers, "With Sam's memories? I'm gonna go ahead and say that's probably the worst thing that could've happened to him, and I only know about half of them."
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded John.
"Mary raised Sam as a hunter, he was fighting monsters and putting down ghosts on the regular by the time he was twelve. Mary dragged him all over the country to do it. His life was just one long parade of crappy schools and hunting until he was seventeen. It's no life for a kid..." Bobby elaborated regretfully.
"Then the sooner we get him out of there the better," said Pamela with a sympathetic look at Bobby.
"Right." Agreed Dean, "what do I have to do?"
Pamela leant forward, "I'm going to cast a spell that's going to let you enter Sam's mind. You're going to have to find him then find your way to the surface. I can't really control where in Sam's mind you'll end up, so you may have to look for him. He's trapped in his worst memories so it's gonna get pretty ugly in there."
"Why does it have to be Dean that goes in?" Asked John.
"With a complicated spell like this I want as many safety nets as I can get." Pamela explained, "blood is an important element in spellwork and Sam's mind is much less likely to reject someone with the same blood... And someone he trusts. I'm sorry John, I know he's your son and it's not your fault, but he only met you a few days ago and in that time he's spent three of those days being tortured."
John's fists tightened on the table, "And it's not as if I welcomed him back with open arms," he scoffed bitterly.
Prompted by John's honesty Dean also confessed. "I didn't exactly react well to the whole demon thing either, what if he rejects me because of that?"
Pamela pursed her lips, "Then Bobby will be the next person we'll try."
John's shoulders tensed even more and he glared between Bobby and Pamela. Seeing the signs of his dad about to kick off, Dean quickly jumped into the conversation, "Pamela's right. It's not your fault, but there's nothing we can do about it until Sam wakes up, so why don't we concentrate on that, then we can have a domestic about it later?"
John looked at Dean then took a deep, calming breath before nodding for them to continue.
Pamela stood up and began adding various things to a copper bowl that she pulled from a bag by her feet, "Listen up Dean, because this is important," she explained as she worked, "You'll have to travel through Sam's worst memories to find him and when you do, you have to convince him to trust you and follow you out of his subconscious. No matter what you have to say or do, you have to get him to follow you. Understand?"
Dean nodded. Swallowing, he asked, "so how do I know where the exit is?"
Pamela grimaced, "that's the tricky part. Everyone's mind is unique to them so I can't tell you exactly what to look for. It could be a window or a door - anything you can go through - but his mind is naturally going to want a foreign presence out and to keep him in. It will be perfectly visible to you and not noticeable to him, he might not even be able to see it at all or there might be something else stopping him, but it's gonna be the only way out. You have to make him go through or he won't wake up. Any questions?"
"No." Dean said after a moment's consideration, "let's get this show on the road."
Pamela then directed him to lay in the bed next to Sam's. She stood over him holding the bowl of ick as Dean had mentally dubbed it, and with the addition of a few drops of his and Sam's blood and a short incantation, Dean found himself drifting off to sleep, monumentally relieved that she hadn't asked him to drink the stuff that was in the bowl.