Title: Blackbird

Author: Oldach's Dream

Summary: Someone or Something is trying to trap Sam within his own mind. Alluring him with the promise of the normal life that he's always wanted. Will Dean be able to save his baby brother before he's gone forever?

Disclaimer: Supernatural defiantly isn't my creation.

Rating: M

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Chapter Two:

Sam shot up in bed as soon as he woke again. He clutched his chest and took a deep breath, expecting it to still be difficult. He was shocked to find that it wasn't in the least.

"'Bout time." Dean's voice was unexpected and made him jump, asking frantically;

"What?"

"It's about time you woke up." He said more slowly. "I was worried I was gonna have to take your sorry ass to the hospital."

"Again?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath, and get a grip on reality, if that's what this was.

This felt real, not that that was much help at this point. At least, this felt like it should be real, something his dream with Jess had not.

Lumpy mattress under him. Dean sitting on the cheap motel bed across from him, looking half annoyed, half concerned, sporting the same custom Dean fashion that he'd been clad in since his early teen years; layers, of mostly dark clothing.

"What do you mean, again?" He shook his head, confused.

"Again." He repeated. "We were at the hospital earlier."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam dubiously. "No, we weren't."

"Yeah we were." He said slowly, as if trying to explain something to a small child. "I woke up with this God awful headache, and you went and got the doctor and she... what?"

Dean had been staring at him like he had grown a second head, or announced that he was really a female.

"Dude, we haven't been to the hospital. You've only been out for a couple hours. Your heart rate was steady and you didn't have any major head injuries, so I took you back here." He sounded as if he now doubted that decision.

No, that wasn't right. Sam had been at the hospital, in a coma, for two weeks. Right? Or had it been Dream-Jessica that had told him that? He was having a hard time sorting through all of it. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

The memories from the hospital, the ones with Dean where his head had hurt like hell, and the ones with Jessica. They all felt real. Like it had happened and he was remembering, not he had dreamt it and he was remembering.

"Sam," Dean was waving his hand in front of his face. He had gone from confused to concerned, like he had been at the hospital... "Are you okay? Tell me what you remember."

"About..." not really sure what his brother wanted to hear.

"The hunt Sammy." He sounded border line frantic. "The hunt we were on."

"Ah..." Finally, a real memory. Something that had to be true. "The Highway Walker?" It came out in more of a question form than he would of liked, but he couldn't help it.

Dean's affirmative nod kept him going and his voice steadied some. "The ghost of that guy…" Sam searched frantically for the name... Hector? Hal? His last name had been short...

"...Doe." This voice was high pitched and frantic. There was movement all around him.

No, he was moving. Being transported by way of gurney.

"No ID... Skull fracture... Bleeding... Transfusion... Severe loss." Several people were speaking at once. None of the voices, however, were directed at him.

"Sam!" Dean's voice snapped him out of...whatever that had been.

"A hospital." He stated without thinking, repeating what he had just seen a flash of.

"There was no hospital!" Dean scared sounded a lot like Dean angry. "We were hunting the Highway spirit. The guy's name was Henry Small."

"Right," Sam agreed, the correct memories coming to him again. "The ghost killing people, then possessing them and getting other people to help him. Pretending to have car trouble. It gets good Samaritans to pull over and repeats the process. Sounds a little like a Woman in White."

"You said that yesterday." Dean reminded him. "And yeah, that's why it was such an easy kill."

"We... I shot it, didn't I?" Sam asked. "That's the last thing I remember."

"Yeah. It was a great hit." Dean said, sounding honestly impressed, and, despite everything else he was feeling, pride quickly became the most noteworthy. "It dissipated right away, just like we thought it would. Then it's residual energy, I guess, manifested for a second, and came at you. Sent you flying back a couple yards, and knocked you out. That was about two and a half hours ago."

"What time is it?" Sam asked automatically.

"About three in the morning. I Love Lucy reruns were just ending."

Sam was about to comment on his brother's taste in TV, if only to lighten the mood, when his vision changed once again, and images consumed him.

"Chances of survival are slim... surgery immediately." The same sounds as before assaulted him. The snapping on of latex gloves only confirmed his belief that he was indeed in a hospital.

He could barely breathe, and his head was pounding. He felt something being snapped over his nose and mouth, rather hastily.

"Just relax, hon." Sam could tell that the kind, female voice was speaking to him. He responded the only way he could think of. By choking out his brother's name.

"Quit it!" There was no mistaking it now, Dean was frantic. "I mean it, your creeping me out."

"What...what exactly am I doing?" Sam could honestly say that he was probably more confused than his brother was at this point.

"You're talking to me one second, then the next...your eyes get this far away look and you won't move."

"I...I feel like I'm somewhere else. A different memory." Sam tried to explain.

"At a hospital." Dean guessed.

"Yeah. Only the memories, they feel so real." Sam shook his head. This was insane. He was acting insane.

"Alright, screw this, let's go." Dean promptly stood up and grabbed for his jacket. He had it shrugged on and was patting his pockets to make sure his car keys were still present before Sam even had a chance to contemplate what he was doing.

This was obviously very apparent on his face, as Dean took one look at him and explained immediately. "We're going to the hospital."

"I'm sick of hospitals." Sam said without thinking.

"No your not." Dean informed him, sounding edgy. "You haven't been in one for weeks. You haven't been a patient in one for years."

"I still don't want to go to one now." He protested.

"Sammy, you're hallucinating." Dean's speaking was a bit calmer, but his voice still held an air of finality. "Now either you have a drug problem that I don't know about, or something is seriously wrong."

Okay, he had a point but, "What are you gonna tell the doctors Dean? Oh yeah, he was fine, until the spirit he killed felt the need to get one last shot in?"

"No. I'll just tell them you fell down the stairs and hit your head." Dean had an answer for everything.

"Yeah," Sam agreed sarcastically. "And besides the lack of actual head injuries, that makes total sense."

"You have a head injury."

Sam immediately lifted his hand to his skull, and after a moment of searching around lightly, he winced. Having found what he was looking for right above the base of his neck.

"You said I didn't..."

"Have any major injuries." Dean cut off his accusations. "A bump isn't major. But zoning in and out of reality is. So yeah, we're going to a doctor. Now."

"I feel..."

"I don't give a crap Sammy. We're going and that's..."

But Dean's angry voice was fading away once again, becoming more and more distant until it was...

"Sammy. Sam. Come on, buddy."

Sam was in the hospital again. Dean stood next to his bed, calling his name lightly. He smiled brightly when his brother's eyes focused on him.

Sam just snorted lightly. "I guess you won."

Dean looked confused and Sam realized that for all the inappropriate humor his older brother could dish out, he sucked when it came to having to put up with it sometimes.

"We're at the hospital." Sam said in way of an explanation. "Did you actually knock me out, or was I zoning again? What did you tell the doctors?"

"Whoa," Dean said, holding up his hands slightly. "Slow down Sammy, I have no clue what you're babbling about. Are you feeling okay? Jess said you weren't making much sense before."

"Jess?" He couldn't begin to describe all the emotions hearing her name roused within him.

Dean simply nodded.

"That's not funny." He said. There was bad humor, then there was just cruel.

"It wasn't supposed to be." Dean said slowly, then asked again, "Are you alright?"

Sam paused and thought before he spoke again. Which wasn't something he did that often. Where Dean was a, shoot it first, figure out what it was later, kind of guy. Sam was more of a, speak first; realize how stupid that sounded later, kind of guy.

It'd been that way for as long as he could remember, but right now he made an effort, and took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Ah... I feel, a little weird. Could you just tell me what's going on?"

Dean's face softened slightly. He was still Dean, and this was still his little brother, lying helplessly in a hospital bed. No matter what the circumstances, he could never deny him anything in this situation.

"You've been in a coma for two weeks. We all thought you were gonna die." Dean's voice cracked slightly and Sam wasn't sure if he liked causing so much vulnerability in his brother's normally rock solid persona.

"We?" Sam couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Me, Jessica, mom and dad. We've all been worried sick."

"Who are you?" Sam asked suddenly and harshly. All his previous confusion abandoned as the likelihood of what was going on hit him.

This was too much. He couldn't face Dean, or anything that looked like him, saying these things to him. This wasn't his brother, it couldn't be. Dean wouldn't say these things, not unless they were true, and since they couldn't be true, that left only one logical explanation.

"You're not my brother." He said just as harshly, and ignored the idiotic guilt he felt when he saw Dean's face fall. "Who are you?"

"Sam," the Dean look alike said patiently. "I am your brother. I'm Dean. Who else would I be?"

"A shape shifter." Sam accused, trying his best to back away, which was a bit difficult, seeing as he couldn't get out of the bed he was in without taking his eyes away from this monster. "Or a demon, or... Something. But you're not my brother. Cristo. Cristo!" He cried desperately.

"What are you talking about Sammy?" He sounded so much like Dean. "Shape shifter? Demon? What is Cristo? You're not making any sense."

"I'm not making any sense?" He asked and laughed, almost hysterically. "You're standing there telling me that Jessica and mom and dad are all here? Alive? Not dead or...or unreachable? And I'm not making any sense?"

The wanna-be Dean was now starring at him very oddly.

Good, Sam thought. Maybe whatever this thing was, masquerading as his brother would get angry and reveal what it really was.

His hope was dashed, when Dean's double simply backed out of the room slowly, with raised hands, muttering something about going to get a doctor.

"A doctor will know what's wrong."

"A doctor..."

"...doctor..."

And he was falling again. The voice was the same, the surroundings were more or less the same, but Sam blinked, and everything was different. Yet Dean was still speaking.

"Yeah Doctor that's it, that's what he's been doing."

"Sam." The doctor was an old man with a congested voice.

"Yeah?" He blinked, confused.

He was in still in a hospital bed, but it was different.

"Are you with us?"

"He wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't." Dean answered for him. If Sam could manage to get a grip, he was sure he would be thankful for his brother's sarcastic response.

"Right." The doctor agreed. "Now Sam, if you could, I'd like you to explain what it is you see when you...zone out, shall we say."

Sam's head was spinning slightly and he shot an anxious look at Dean. He didn't want to discuss it yet. He had to get his brother alone and ask him what was going on. More importantly, ask him if mom and Jessica were alive.

"Can't this wait a while, Doc?" Dean either caught the meaning behind his frantic look, or he was just getting naturally protective. One way or the other, Sam was grateful.

"I'm afraid not." Congested, nasal doctor insisted. "We don't know what's going on or how long he'll be responsive. What Sam is experiencing is highly unusual for a slight bump on the head. I have great reason to believe that something much more serious could be going on. We need to get as much information, as soon as possible."

Sam looked pleadingly at Dean, but his older brother just shrugged, seemingly agreeing with the man's logic.

He sighed and cleared his throat. "When I...zone out..." he trailed off, not really knowing how to explain it. Hell, he couldn't even tell if this was real, or a dream, or a nightmare, or a vision...

"Yes?" The doctor prompted, pen poised above a clipboard.

"I'm at a hospital. It's really a lot like this. Dean's there sometimes, and we talk..." Sam felt like an idiot. Both the doctor and his brother were starring at him as if he were speaking Swahili.

"I'm not sure I understand." The doctor said thoughtfully after a slight pause. "Your hallucinations seem to be, well, real. Reality."

"I know." Sam admitted. "That's what they feel like too. But they're not."

"How can you tell?" Good God this doctor's voice was getting to him.

"Because I'm a fucking psychic."

"And on that note," Dean cut in, before nasal guy could say anything. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a while Doc?"

Dean had a hand on the doctor's back and was leading him towards the door before he had a chance to protest, still speaking hastily. "As you can tell, my brother can get a little cranky when he's upset. I promise I'll talk to him and fill you in. All right? Okay."

Soon enough, Dean had the old man in the hallway, his hand resting on the door jam. Just as his mouth opened, to protest, no doubt, Dean gave him his bright-toothed grin. Before shutting the door firmly behind him.

He turned to Sam, and without preamble asked, "Now what the hell is going on? And don't give me crap about a hospital." He sounded fed up.

"It wasn't crap." Sam said immediately. Dean just raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, but before he could say more, Sam spoke again. "Where's dad?"

Dean's brow crinkled in confusion. "Last we knew, California, remember?"

"And he's hunting the thing that killed mom and Jessica? The demon?" As disturbing as it was, these facts had become a comfort for Sam. Nothing good, but something real. Something he knew to be true.

"Yes, Sam." He answered slowly, his voice held more concern now. "Why?"

"That hospital I was talking about?" Dean nodded. "Well you're there. Only so are Jessica, and mom and dad. And you don't seem to believe in anything supernatural at all. Oh, and I've been in a coma for two weeks. There, not here." There was a long moment of silence. "Am I freaking you out yet?"

"Geez Sammy," he chuckled humorlessly "And I though your shining thing was the weirdest crap I was ever gonna have to put up with." Dean exhaled loudly, sounding slightly shaky. "What's going on with you Sam? Your zoning in and out, you're telling me you're in some different world, and mom..."

"I haven't actually seen her." Sam said quickly, almost defensively. He could have sworn Dean sounded jealous. "Just you and Jessica. Actually, the last thing I remember is yelling at you. Accusing you of being a demon or something, cause I mean, why else would you tell me mom and dad were here, there... and then you told me that there's no such thing as demons. Well, I don't think you actually said that. You were just really confused when I said it. You said you were gonna get a doctor, then I blinked and I was here." He paused, taking a breath. "Oh, and you didn't flinch at Cristo."

"Good god Sammy, what in the hell is going on?"

"An excellent question." The female voice was young and professional. She was answering a question in another world. One that Sam was once again a part of, against his will. Something the female doctor quickly noticed. "Ah, awake I see."

All eyes in the room turned to stare at Sam, who was blinking rapidly. He sat up in bed without thinking about it. He was sick of lying down.

Five pairs of eyes were now starring at him. The doctor, Dean, his dad and Jessica were the only ones he could bring himself to focus on for the moment.

Dean looked scared and nervous. Jessica was much the same. His dad looked rather impassive, but Sam could tell by his wrinkled clothes and his unshaven face that the man hadn't slept in quite a while. The doctor's face stayed mostly professional, but Sam could detect a bit of curiosity there. Not really surprising, given the circumstances.

"Sammy." His name was spoken with such softness, such love; he couldn't help but look at the speaker.

Their eyes met, and for a second, he was back in his old home in Kansas. Being held by the poltergeist, unable to move, faced with something he never thought he'd get to see.

His voice was tight as he rasped desperately, tears pooling shamelessly in his eyes.

"…mom?"

End Chapter.