A bit talky this next bit... But hopefully everything should be starting to become clear by the end...
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Sam wasn't sure where he was.

He'd been talking to Bethany when she'd started to sound more than a little crazy, and then, all of a sudden, he was here.

Except he didn't know where 'here' was.

It was very dark, and no matter how hard he blinked he couldn't see a single thing.

"Sam?"

"Jessica?"

She was standing in front of him wearing a long white dress, the only light in the place seeming to come from within her.

"Jess, where are we?" Sam asked, trying to move towards her, but unable to.

Jessica didn't answer. "Sam, you need to choose now," was all she said.

Sam frowned. "Choose?" he echoed. "Choose what?"

Jessica reached up and ran her fingers down his cheek. "I think you know," she said sadly.

She turned away from him, almost as if in slow motion, and began to walk away. The light followed her as she moved.

"Jessica?"

"Choose, Sam."

Jessica reached out her hand, and Sam suddenly became aware of a door just in front of her. Grasping the handle, the door swung open, and Jessica disappeared within the room beyond, the door closing behind her with a disturbingly quiet click.

"Jess!" Sam rushed over towards the door, grabbing the handle and wrenching it open.

The room on the other side was dimly lit, cold tile floor cracked and broken, years of grime coating every surface.

"Sam?"

Sam looked down.

Dean was lying on the floor, his breathing laboured as he clutched at an injury to his chest.

Sam entered the room quickly, his initial concern for his brother altering into something else as he crossed the threshold of the room and stepped onto the broken tile.

He had a gun in his hand, and it was pointed at his brother's head.

Dean managed to raise his shoulders enough to look up at him, fear mixed with disbelief and genuine pain in his eyes.

But it wasn't physical pain. It went much, much deeper than that.

"You hate me that much?" he said, his voice weakening with the effort.

Sam gripped the handgun, his hand steady.

"Choose, Sam," he heard Jessica's voice, and found himself scanning the room for her. But he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Sam," Dean said suddenly. "It's time to choose."

Sam pulled the trigger.

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"I should've strangled you," Dean said, shaking his head. "I knew it."

"Wait," Bethany caught his arm as he began to turn away in disbelief. "Just listen!"

"My Dad would never hurt Sammy – " Dean started to object, but Bethany squeezed his arm to quieten him.

"No," she agreed. "He wouldn't That's not what this is about. This – " she gestured at Sam. "This has all gone wrong! They've lost control but won't admit it!"

Dean frowned. "English, lady."

"OK," Bethany took a breath. "Your father hired my – my family – "

"You said that already."

"To undertake a – a – " Bethany seemed to struggle for the right phrase. "A 'research project' for him."

Dean frowned. "What sort of research project?"

The girl was obviously choosing her words very carefully. "He – he needed to know something, an answer to a question."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Jeez, this is like pulling teeth," he muttered. "Less of the cryptic, honey, I'm not in the mood."

"OK, OK," Bethany started to speak faster, looking over her shoulder for a second, as if there was someone standing behind her that Dean couldn't see. "My family – we're – well, I guess you could say – we – we practise the magical arts – "

Dean grimaced. "You're witches?" he burst out, shaking his head. "Ah, man, I hate witches!"

Bethany pulled at his arm again to re-focus his attention. "Just listen!" she urged. "Your father. He approached my – my family – "

"Your coven," Dean put in.

Bethany nodded, sheepishly. "Yes," she conceded. "My coven. He said he needed the answer to a question that had been haunting him for twenty-two years. He thought we could help him."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Twenty-two years? "Go on," he said.

Bethany sighed, relieved Dean was at least hearing her out. "He said he needed to know whether the choices he had made in his life since a particular event –"

"My Mom's death," Dean interjected.

" – Had been the right ones," Bethany continued, nodding. "He said he needed to know whether, if things had been different, if events had played out another way, his life, his sons' lives, could have been different. Better somehow."

Dean wasn't entirely sure he believed what he was hearing. That didn't sound like the old man. Self-doubt wasn't something that Dean had ever seen bother him. "So what does this have to do with Sam?" he asked, dreading the answer.

As if on cue, Sam twitched violently in his sleep, before becoming perfectly still once more.

Dean and Bethany both turned concerned eyes on him for a second, before Bethany answered Dean's question.

"My sisters," she said. "They needed a conduit, a way to visualise the different choices your father could have made. Usually," she looked slightly abashed. "That would be my job."

"Your job?" Dean didn't understand.

Bethany shrugged. "My gift," she rephrased. "I'm what's called a Dreamwalker. I can manifest in other people's dreams, guide their experiences."

Dean considered that for a second. "Cool," he muttered. Then, "And that's what you're doing to Sam?"

Bethany shook her head. "No," she said. "That what I was supposed to be doing for your father, but then he mentioned that one of his sons was a pre-cognitive dreamer."

Dean had never heard it called that before. "OK," he said. "Sam's a freak. Got it."

Bethany pulled a face at him. She'd experienced enough of Sam's dreams to know by now that Dean didn't mean half the things he said about his little brother. "When the – the coven – " she stumbled over the word. "When they heard that Sam had this ability, they came up with the idea of using him as the conduit instead of me. Instead of my guiding your father's dreams, I was to observe Sam's; make sure that his dreams were progressing in the right way for us to be able to provide your father with the answers he was seeking, and make sure Sam himself was all right – "

"Check on his condition," Dean finished her sentence, nodding.

"Exactly," Bethany agreed. "Because of Sam's ability, my sisters thought they would be able to use his dreams to answer your father's question with a greater degree of accuracy. Had I been guiding his dreams, we would have been limited by my knowledge of your family, the circumstances of your father's life. They wouldn't be as realistic or as accurate – "

"As someone who had more first hand experience of the subject," again Dean finished her explanation for himself. "So what were you doing here?"

"I needed to be in proximity to Sam to actually manifest in his dreams."

"You were actually in his dreams?" Dean sounded impressed, as well as more than a little freaked out.

"Sometimes, yes," Bethany nodded. "If I was concerned about Sam's wellbeing. Or I felt I needed to influence the dream slightly in order to provide the right results necessary to answer your father's question. But a lot of the time, if I only needed to check on Sam's progress, I could access his dreams remotely."

Dean frowned. "Run that by me again?"

Bethany smiled. "If I manifest in one of the dreams, I become one of the characters," she explained. "If I just want to check on its progress, I just have to have one of the characters say my name. I don't have to be as close to Sam to do that."

Dean nodded. "Ooooohkay…" he said slowly. "So when you manifest. Who do you appear as?"

"Usually an extraneous character if I can. Someone who wasn't there in the original memory on which the dream is based. Very rarely as one of the principals. Although I can do that if the dream requires some serious retuning."

"You can?"

Bethany nodded. "But so can Sam. Which is where the problems begin."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "What problems?"

"Well," Bethany began. "Usually a guided dreamer always appears as themselves in their dream – "

"That makes sense."

"So they can only dream within the realms of what they have or could ever experience." Bethany noticed the blank expression on Dean's face and added, "Say I was guiding your dream. You wouldn't have a dream about your being a Laker Girl. Or a Playboy model."

Dean thought about that for longer than he probably should have. "I get it," he said. "Might be fun though…"

Bethany carried on regardless. "But because Sam is guiding his own dreams, he seems to be able to do pretty much whatever he wants, with no-one to keep him in check or steer him in the direction required for the project to work. For us to reach an answer to your father's original question. In his first dream, for example, he was you – "

Dean did a double take. "He was what?"

"You," Bethany repeated. "He saw from your point of view."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Why – why – why would he do that?" he asked uncertainly.

"I guess because his experience of the event he was dreaming about would have been too limited had he observed it from his own perspective."

"Why?"

"Well," Bethany shrugged. "Because he was a baby during that event."

Dean shuddered, sudden realisation dawning on him. "The fire," he guessed. "The night Mom died."

Bethany nodded. "Yes," she confirmed.

Dean tried to make out that this didn't bother him, but failed miserably. "So he saw the fire as if he was me?"

Bethany nodded.

He smiled awkwardly. "You know, that's kinda freaky," he said, frowning. Then, "But why not be Dad? He saw more than I did."

"It's easiest to view from the nearest, most comfortable vantage point when we manifest as someone other than ourselves," Bethany explained. "We don't have to fight the personality we've assumed if it's someone we know, someone we understand. Someone really close to us. Generally, if we can't manifest as ourselves, we jump to the closest person to us."

Dean started to fidget again, embarrassed by Bethany's unintentional analysis of his relationship with his brother. "So – so that's a problem?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"No," Bethany explained. "Not usually. Other than it makes my job harder. It took me a while to figure out who Sam was in that dream."

Dean nodded.

"The problem," Bethany continued, "is that because I'm not guiding Sam's dreams, I'm only allowed to play a set role if I manifest. I can only act as that person would act. I'm allowed to influence the dream in very small ways, but if I interfere with the direction the dream is taking, the coven will pull me out of the dream to avoid my 'tainting the purity of the research', as they put it." Bethany looked decidedly irritated by this last.

"So they can observe too?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Bethany replied. "Through me. They watch every move I make in there."

"And you've tried to interfere with Sam's dreams?"

Bethany flushed. "I'm that transparent, huh?" she asked. "Yes. I tried. When I realised what was happening. I tried to wake him."

"Can't the coven wake him?" Dean asked. "If this is their doing in the first place – "

"That's the problem," Bethany explained. "Ordinarily, yes, we can wake a guided dreamer whenever we choose."

"Then why don't you?" Dean demanded. "Why's Sam still asleep?"

"Because he's not a guided dreamer," Bethany replied. "We're not in control of his dreams." She hoped the importance of that statement was sinking in. "Sam is. Sam's guiding his own dreams, and we've lost control of him. He was supposed to be dreaming scenarios that would help answer your father's question. That was part of the original incantation that sent him into the dream state in the first place. And at first, that's what he did: He dreamed he died as a baby in the fire that took your Mom."

Dean flinched. "How could that make anyone's life better?" he asked.

Bethany shrugged. "There are many different directions your father's life could have taken," she answered. "That was just one possibility. But then he had another dream, one that made me wonder if something hadn't gone wrong. He dreamt that you were killed instead of Jessica."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "Dad wanted to see what would happen if I died?" he asked uncertainly.

"No," Bethany explained. "That's just it! Your father would never have considered that scenario at all – he didn't know enough about Sam's relationship with Jessica for it to have even occurred to him. That's how I knew something was wrong. Sam's making up his own scenarios now – he's not trying to answer your father's question any more. He's trying to answer his own. Trying to find his own perfect solution to the way his life has turned out, not your father's."

"Choosing Jessica to live instead of me – " Dean muttered uncomfortably.

"Or Jessica instead of your father," Bethany added. "Which is what his last dream revolved around. That's the problem. He keeps coming back to Jessica. In his dreams, he's trying to save her, to create a perfect world where she doesn't die and they can be together. And the more he fails, the further into the dream world he falls. The more he becomes lost. Dean, I wasn't kidding when I said only Sam knows when he's going to wake up. Sam's the only one keeping himself trapped in the dream state. Sam's the only one that can snap himself out of it, force himself to return to the waking world."

Dean nodded slowly, the full gravity of Sam's precarious situation finally starting to sink in. "If he finds his perfect life," he asked carefully. "He might never wake up?"

"Even if he doesn't find it," Bethany added. "He could spend the rest of his life trying."

This was so bad on so many levels Dean didn't even know where to start. "So we need to find some way to wake him?" he offered.

"Yes," Bethany replied. "Sooner rather than later."

"Why the urgency?" Dean asked. "He's OK, right? Just asleep?"

"For now," Bethany answered. "But the mental strain of what he's trying to do – the physical toll it's taking on him – he could die, Dean. He could die soon. And I mean days, not years."

Dean felt like someone had just pulled the floor out from beneath his feet. Right now, Sam was all he had, and the thought of losing him… Well, that wasn't going to happen. He'd see to that.

"Your coven knows all this?" he asked, finally.

Bethany nodded. "Yes. I've told them. I've shown them the danger Sam's in. But they just won't admit it."

"Does my Dad know?" Dean had to ask.

Bethany looked at him uncertainly. "I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I would guess not. If he did, I think he would have found a way to make them stop this."

"Can they?" Dean seized on her words. "Can they make it stop?"

Bethany shrugged. "No," she said, suddenly aware of the slump in Dean's shoulders. "But I might be able to."

Dean looked up at her.

"I could try at least. If they'd only let me."

"But they won't let you interfere in the dreams, right?" Dean understood. "They'd pull you out again?"

"That's right," Bethany said. "They can see everything I do when I'm in Sam's dreams. Everything. I try and wake him, I try and convince him he needs to return to reality – they yank me straight out." She stopped abruptly, a sudden light in her eyes as she considered Dean thoughtfully.

Dean started to fidget again under her scrutiny. "What?" he asked.

"They see everything I do," she muttered. "But if someone else were to get in there, try to make Sam see sense…" she trailed off for a second. "They wouldn't be able to do a thing about it."

Dean frowned at her, unsure where she was headed. She was still staring at him like he was from another planet. "You know another Dreamwalker?" he asked tentatively.

Bethany shook her head. "Doesn't have to be a Dreamwalker," she said, suddenly grabbing his upper arms and pushing him back down into the chair in which he'd fallen asleep.

"Hey, what's – " Dean stopped, Bethany's scrutiny of him really starting to creep him out. Then it hit him. "Now, just wait a second – " he started to protest.

"This is perfect," Bethany was saying, ignoring the uncertain look on Dean's face.

"What is?" Dean really didn't like the sound of this.

"I can help you," Bethany continued as if Dean hadn't even spoken. "Put you into a dream state and help you into Sam's dreams…"

"You can put me into Sam's dreams?" Dean repeated, pretty sure he'd misunderstood, as that whole idea seemed way too voyeuristic for him to get his head around.

Bethany had her hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the chair. "You just stay there," she ordered. "Leave everything to me."

"Wait, wait!" Dean said, pushing her away. "Just – just hold your horses there, sweetheart!" He needed time to think about this. This wasn't something a person did lightly. This was his brother's consciousness they were talking about invading. Spying on. He ran a hand over his forehead. "You want to put me in Sam's dream?" he said slowly, seeking clarification if not reassurance.

Bethany nodded. "Yes."

"OK," Dean muttered. "And you – you'd do that how?"

"You'd just be sleeping," Bethany assured him. "I'd just put you to sleep and guide you over."

"So you'd be there too?"

"Maybe. Depends who else is in the dream."

"But I'd be me?"

"If you're in the dream."

"And if I'm not in the dream?"

"Then you'd be someone else."

"Like who?"

"Depends who's in the dream."

Dean shook his head. "OK. But I could get out again? I wouldn't be trapped in there with Sam? 'Cause I wouldn't be much use to him if neither of us could get out."

Bethany nodded. "Yes. I'd be able to pull you out. You'll only be an observer, not in control like Sam is."

"So," Dean was slowly starting to get his head around it. "If I could persuade Sam to come back to the waking world – show him the way out – ?"

"The dream would end, and you'd both be awake."

Dean considered that. "Huh," he muttered, weighing his options. Although there weren't really that many to weigh. "So all I need to do is persuade Sam to come back with me? That he's better off in the real world than he is in his own little fantasy land?"

Bethany shrugged. "In theory."

"I feel so much better," Dean muttered sarcastically. Then, "OK. Knock yourself out, sister." He grinned, shaking his head. "Or maybe that should be 'knock me out'."

Bethany smiled, moving her hand towards Dean's forehead.

"Wait," Dean caught hold of her wrist before she could touch him. "Just tell me I'm gonna be me when I get over there? I'm not gonna come out as Sam or something? Couldn't cope with the altitude. I'm sure I'd get nosebleeds up there…"

Bethany laughed. "Humour as a defence mechanism. You know, you're kind of a cliché…"

"Shut up," Dean replied shortly.

"Let me see…" Bethany moved over to Sam, putting her hand on his forehead and closing her eyes, as if in deep concentration. Her hand started to glow, just as Dean had seen it do before.

Dean watched her for a second, her eyelids fluttering as if she, too, was deeply asleep.

Then all of a sudden, her eyes snapped open and she smiled broadly at him.

"Well?"

Bethany's smile was becoming more alarming by the second. "You're not in the dream he's having," she said. "But don't worry. You'll know all the lines…"

"Huh?" Dean didn't like the sound of that.

Bethany pushed him back against the chair, her hand moving to his temple. "Hold still," she said, then, softening her voice, "Just relax. Close your eyes."

Dean always felt distinctly uncomfortable when a woman told him to close his eyes, but he did as he was instructed regardless, feeling anything but relaxed.

Bethany's hand felt warm on his skin, the heat radiating through his body – down his arms to his fingertips, down his legs to his toes – until he felt a complete sense of calm and well being, a sensation he didn't remember feeling since – well, since before his Mom died.

"Just relax," he heard Bethany say again, her voice sounding distant, far away. "Relax."

Dean felt himself drifting towards sleep, becoming less and less aware of his surroundings as the colours started to blur into darkness.

Then he heard Bethany's voice one last time. "Go to sleep now. Oh, and Dean? Don't touch anything you shouldn't…"