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
00000000000000000000
Chapter Five
"You know we don't have a good history with Asylums." Sam protested half heartedly as Dean helped him out of the car early the next morning. He shook off his brother's helping hands, though. Much the same way Dean had done to Sam when he'd been dying.
"Well, how 'bout you just promise not to shoot me this time?" He suggested with a patented smirk, making sure to keep close to his brother, should he black out.
"No guarantees." Sam mumbled. He already didn't like the look of the place he was being forced to stay.
He knew Dean didn't have a choice in the matter, and honestly, if he were in the same position his brother was, he knew he probably wouldn't be doing anything differently. So he fought down the feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him Dean was abandoning him.
He fought down the much more disturbing one that said the Dean from the other world would never do anything like this.
If he started thinking like that, well, he didn't really know what would happen, but quite frankly, he doubted it would be good.
Dean was the only family he really had anymore. He was certainly the only person he could count on. They were brothers. They'd never do anything to intentionally hurt each other.
Or so he kept telling himself, desperately trying to make that nervous, churning feeling in his gut recede.
"Home sweet home." Dean mumbled, as they reached the entrance of the hospital facility.
"I don't like this place." Sam said as they entered.
"I don't blame you."
The place reeked of mental instability. It was apparent the moment they entered the two story building, and it was so disturbing, it made Sam want to run back outside to the safety of the Impala.
Made him want to say, fuck the risks, there's no way in hell I'm staying here.
Screw it, he thought after taking in his surroundings. "Fuck the risks, there's no way in hell I'm staying here."
All the walls, within immediate view, were white. You could scarcely make out the doors that lined the hallways. They were visible only through the tiny square windows that accompanied each one.
For as white as the walls were, that's how not soundproof they were. The moans and mumblings of the other terminal mental patients echoed throughout the building. Background noise that was impossible to ignore, that made Sam squirm uncomfortably.
"I can assure you," a voice sounded behind them and it made Sam and Dean both jump and turn around, immediately alert. A middle aged, black haired, man in an all white doctor's uniform stood before them, obviously having heard Sam's comments. "Our facilities offer nothing but the best care around."
"Right," Dean said slowly and skeptically, "and you are?"
"Forgive me," he said. There was something about his voice that Sam just did not like, it was too throaty. He sounded almost like he was whispering, only Sam couldn't tell if that was just the way he spoke, or if it was something he'd acquired over time, having to speak calmly and placatingly to patients. "My name is Dr. Kabala. I run this, lovely vacation paradise." He smiled at his own joke, revealing his yellowing teeth. "Now you two, you must be the Winchester's."
"Yeah," Dean once again answered for the both of them. "This is my brother, Sam, he's gonna be staying here for a while."
"Sam," the doctor gave him a quick once over that made him want to crawl out of his skin. "It's good to meet you. Dr. Arnold told me all about you. A fascinating case, if I do say so myself."
"Yeah." Sam grunted, not knowing how else to respond. He didn't want to stay here. Maybe he was being a baby, but he didn't care so much.
Logically, he knew Dean was right. This was the only safe place for him at the moment.
Funny, it didn't feel so safe.
"I noticed Mr. Winchester," Dr. Kabala went back to speaking to his brother as if Sam was not there, or a child who cold not understand them. "That on the forms you filled out, you haven't given us permission to administer any actual medical treatments to your brother, now is that a mistake..."
"Oh, no." Dean said easily. "See, Sam's condition is very treatable. I just have to go see a, specialist that our family knows. I'll be back in no time."
"Yes, well." The weird doctor sounded extremely skeptical and Sam wanted to shoot him in the chest with rock salt.
"Really." Dean insisted. "No medication is necessary. In fact, I'm beginning to think maybe this whole place is unnecessary."
"No, Mr. Winchester, trust me when I say that your brother will be in very competent hands." He sounded almost scared at the thought of Sam not staying.
"I don't know..." Dean looked unsure and shot a glance at his brother. "What do you think Sammy?"
I think I want to get the hell out of here and never lay eyes on this place ever, ever again. But, "You need to go see that specialist." He couldn't help but smirk at the word choice, knowing exactly where Dean had gotten it from. "Go and see about that thing we talked about. You won't be gone long, right?"
The night before, Sam had done everything necessary for Dean's spell to work correctly. He smirked slightly at the memories.
"There." Sam stated evenly, emerging from the bathroom. He handed his brother, who was spread out comfortably on the hospital bed, the tiny glass vile.
Sam sighed dramatically. "Hair, blood," He held up his pointer finger, which was now sporting a band-aid. The next word made him shiver slightly, "Toenail." He went on, ignoring his disgust. "So, unless you want me to piss in that thing..."
"Well..." Sam shot his brother a look that quite clearly said, 'Go to hell.'
"I'm kidding," Dean continued, chuckling. "Piss wouldn't actually be useful, since it's just the reformation of an outside stimuli."
"Stop quoting textbooks." Sam snapped, yet couldn't help feeling relieved. He didn't want to think about how he would have gotten that particular bodily fluid into the small vile.
Dean rolled his eyes, before gesturing to the book resting in his lap. "Actually, there is one more thing that would make it almost a hundred percent accurate." Sam raised his eyebrows in question, and his brother responded after a slight pause. "Sweat."
"Sweat?" Sam repeated, dumbfounded. Dean simply nodded.
The younger of the two stared for a second, before accusing, "You've been reading Stephen King again, haven't you?"
"No." Dean exclaimed immediately. Sam raised his eyebrows, his face shifting into a look of utter disbelief. "Sweat has sacred qualities. It's useful in almost every form of witchcraft. Especially anything, you know, personal like this."
Sam continued to stare.
"Blink or something man, that's creepy." Dean sounded annoyed and Sam knew he was caving. "I looked it up!" His brother defended hotly.
It only took a few more seconds of Sam's relentless starring to break the elder Winchester. "Fine!" He finally snapped. "I looked it up because of a Stephen King story, happy?"
"Yeah," Sam said truthfully. He'd always gotten a kick out of using that look on Dean.
Honestly, he was also extremely grateful for the normalcy of the situation. Bickering with his big brother, whether it be about something normal or supernatural, even something incredibly serious; it had always made him feel safe, calm. A non chick flick version of comfort.
Dean rolled his eyes and gestured impatiently. "Just cause you never want to admit the man is a genius..."
"We are not getting into this argument." Sam decided, before his brother's praises of the fickle author could begin.
"Whatever," Dean replied hotly. "But I'm still right."
"Stephen King is not the most influential author in paranormal writings." Sam began the argument, even after his declaration that it would not be started. "He's a weirdo with a pen."
"You just don't like him cause 'IT' freaked you out." Dean teased.
"Dude!" Sam exclaimed, wishing he had something to whip at his older brother's head. "Did you really have to read it to me when I was nine?"
"I thought it would give you a greater sense of understanding." He said, still smirking. "We face scary shit man, you needed to understand that."
"I understood that," Sam pointed out. "I'd already seen, ghosts, poltergeists. A werewolf." He stated plainly, giving his brother an agitated look.
"Yet a book about a killer clown freaked you out." Dean looked up, mockingly puzzled. "Go figure."
"You're the one who refuses to see the movie." Sam retaliated.
"A book like that cannot justifiably be made into a movie," he argued. "It would totally ruin it."
"And you're afraid of clowns."
"No, little brother," Dean smirked. "That's you."
"Your fault." Sam reminded him snippily.
"Maybe so." Dean agreed, then looked up, smiling widely. "But you're still afraid of clowns."
"You're scared of airplanes." Sam snapped.
Dean's face fell for a second, before he looked triumphant again, "You still don't like using the rifle." He said it as if he were making a point.
"It broke my collar bone." Sam said, then continued quickly. "Once. I have no problem using it now. Besides, I'm not the one who sleeps with dagger under my pillow."
"Precaution." Dean defended at once. "Although it probably couldn't save you from a killer doll."
"Dolls and clowns are the same thing." Sam argued. "They only count as one fear."
"Clowns and dolls are not the same." His older brother smirked. "One scared the crap out of you when you were nine, one did when you were seven."
Sam sighed, feeling somewhat defeated. "I had seriously irrational childhood phobias, didn't I?"
It was a pointless question, as both knew the answer. It was actually something brought up a lot when he'd been younger.
As a child, Sammy could face demons and ghosts, and everything else he saw on the job, without so much as flinching. But scary works of fiction had him running to Dean's room in a flash.
"Don't feel too bad, man," Dean tried to comfort him. "Chucky freaked me out too."
"Yeah, sure." Sam gave in. He paused for a few moments, remembering what had started this conversation in the first place. "So," he started, sounding unsure. "Sweat?"
"Yup." Dean nodded.
"I don't suppose they have a sauna here, huh?" Sam asked the question with no hope.
Dean snorted, "No, defiantly not."
Sam groaned dramatically. "So, I have to, what? Jog around the lobby?"
Dean's face lit up. "That's a good idea."
"Hey now," Sam tried to stop his older brother, before the idea got planted in his head. "What did you have in mind?"
"I didn't." Dean shrugged. "Run in place, maybe."
Sam sighed. "I'll jog around the lobby." He decided. That somehow sounded much less stupid than running in place. "But you're jogging with me."
"Am I now?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, come on." Sam coaxed. "We haven't jogged together since dad was on that 'hunting conditioning' kick. That was a pain in the ass." He recalled.
"You were the one who brought up soccer conditioning." Dean reminded.
"And I much rather would have done that." Sam said, but was quick to get back on topic this time. "So what do ya say, wanna go for a jog?"
"Around a hospital lobby." The elder Winchester stated plainly, before smiling widely. "Sure, why not? There's too much irony there to pass up."
What had started off as a friendly, brotherly jog, had quickly escalated into a competition of sorts. They had raced each other to every destination within reach, quite a few times over. The youngest Winchester instating a redo, every time his older brother bested him, and Dean doing the same, when Sam was victorious.
It had lasted well over an hour, and probably would have gone on longer, if an irate nurse had not come out of a nearby room and informed them that they were disturbing other patients.
All in all, the had gotten what they needed. Both brothers were breathing hard, and sweating profusely. Sam's was quickly collected inside the vile.
Later that night, Dean had gone out to the Impala for roughly half an hour. Sam had wanted to be present for the casting of the spell, but Dean said it was unnecessary and that he should get some rest. Protective big brother Dean was roaring his head, and Sam found it too tiring to argue with him.
At that point, he had been feeling so normal, so right; he had drifted to sleep with the distant thought that this was just another hunt. Another, every day, common, run of the mill, hunt. The thought had been enough to allow him a peaceful nap, before Dean reentered the room, and told him what he'd discovered.
The spell had pointed to somewhere in Colorado, near Denver. It was about ten hours away, but honestly, Sam had just been happy that the spell worked at all. At least it proved that there was someone out there doing this to him.
It proved that he wasn't crazy.
"I'll be fine." Sam insisted now, shaking his head slightly to clear himself of the memories. Okay, so maybe he was a little crazy.
"You're sure?" Dean checked again and Sam nodded affirmatively, afraid that if he opened his mouth, his real feelings would spill over the edge, and his brother was dangerously close to backing down as it was.
Sam knew that he really didn't have to stay here. But Dean had admitted it himself last night, he wouldn't be able to find out who was doing this if he was worried Sam might fall over into a dead faint at any moment. Leaving him completely defenseless for anything that might attack him.
He'd rather let his big brother go off and hunt by himself for a week or two, rather than risk going with him and getting them both killed. It made him feel helpless and weak, but he honestly did not see another plausible option.
Neither did Dean. "Alright." He finally gave in, managing to sound both relieved and reluctant. "Call my cell if you need anything."
"Sure thing, dad." Sam answered sarcastically, the lightness in his voice convincingly faked.
"You're making the right decision." Dr. Kabala assured him, sounding delighted at this outcome. "Sam will be quite comfortable here. He'll get his own room, his own staff of nurses. Ready and willing to serve him at a moments notice."
"Hope they're hot." Dean joked.
"Everything is well taken care of." Dr. Kabala was ushering him out the door. "You just go find that specialist, Sam will be waiting here when you get back."
Dean took one final, long look at Sam before nodding curtly and returning to the outside world.
It wasn't until he heard the Impala start up, and tear out of the parking lot, that Sam felt truly alone.
0000000000000000000
"Home Sweet home." Sam echoed Dean's earlier words to himself.
He really didn't like this place, and he didn't think it was just because he was having bad, Roosevelt Asylum, flashbacks. This place had a vibe, something was off about it.
"You settling in nicely?" Dr. Kabala's voice sounded from the doorway of Sam's room. If you could call it that, it was more like a box with a bed and a tiny window.
He'd stayed in cheap motels better than this. He'd been in actual jail cells that felt less confining. But hey, at least he wasn't sharing it with some psycho.
"Just great," he said, not bothering to try and hide the sarcasm. He'd prefer the doctor with the sinus issues over this guy anytime. Congested doctor, Dr. Arnold, he supposed, was irritating and obnoxious.
Dr. Kabala was scary.
"You should really try and be more positive, Sam." He was leaning casually on the door jam of the room. "You'll get used to it here soon enough."
"No I won't." He said immediately, attempting to stay calm. "Dean's gonna be back in a couple days. I don't have to get used to anything."
Dr. Kabala sighed "That's how it always starts." He spoke as if he were explaining something to a young child, almost sympathetically. "I see it all the time Sam. A loved one wanting only to do what's best."
"What do you mean?" He asked in spite himself.
"You're mentally unwell, Sam. Your brother sees that and recognizes it as a problem. He's gone off to try and find a solution. But do you honestly think it's going to work?" The doctor stood up straighter and Sam couldn't help but feel as if he were being challenged.
"Yes." He said firmly. "Dean can find an answer."
"You have a lot of faith in him." Dr. Kabala noted, rather passively. "Younger brother hero worship." He shook his head sadly. "What's going to happen when he realizes he can't fix it, Sam? What then?"
"He will fix it." His voice was steady but there was growing fear coursing throughout him.
He couldn't tell if he was scared that what the doctor was saying might be true, or if he just feared the doctor. Either one seemed pretty legitimate at this point.
"He'll make it all better?" He mocked and Sam's face contorted in anger and a little shock. "No he won't." He answered himself. "He'll realize what a hindrance you are, and he'll leave you here. Forever"
"Shut up." Sam said fiercely, taking a threatening step towards the man.
Who was this guy? What kind of doctor said these things? He knew quite suddenly that all his feelings about this place had been correct, and he wanted desperately to get out. Now.
"Easy there Sam." He said as if Sam was the one who was out of line, his voice back to that of a professional doctor. "I think maybe it's time for you to get some rest. You seem a little irritable."
"You sick fuck." He seethed.
"Goodbye Sam." He said with a morbid grin, before leaving the room swiftly, and shutting the door firmly behind him.
Sam was at the door moments later, pounding furiously when the knob wouldn't budge.
"Let me out of here!" The yells held fierce anger, "Let me out! You fucking twisted psycho!"
But he knew it was pointless. No one would be coming to save him, and he was incapable of saving himself. The doctor had taken his bags as soon as Dean had left earlier, claiming that he was going to have a nurse put them in his room. He hadn't seen them since.
He should have listened to that gut feeling when he had the chance. He should have told Dean to get him the fuck away from this place when he had the chance. He'd acted rationally, not wanting to make things harder for his brother. Trying desperately to convince himself that he was wrong, that Grandville's psychiatric hospital was a perfectly safe place to be.
He hadn't wanted to risk getting hurt, or getting Dean hurt if he suddenly became immobile. He was trying to be safe. He was trying to do the right thing. Yet it hadn't turned out that way at all. Once again, he had fucked it all up.
He'd rather be unconscious in his brother's Impala, than be perfectly healthy in this hell hole. Where the doctor's were as crazy as the patients.
Sam had no idea what was going on with this place. If Dean was here, they could figure it out together. Like they always did.
But his big brother wasn't here. Sam backed into the corner of the room, giving up on his feeble attempts to knock down the door, and fell onto the bed, curling up into as small of a ball as his height would allow.
He closed his eyes and begged whoever might be listening to take him back to the other reality. To take him anywhere where his brother hadn't abandoned him. Anyplace he didn't feel completely and utterly alone.
End Chapter.
00000000000000000000000
A/N:
This really does just keep getting stranger, huh?
Yeah well, review, and maybe I'll let you in on how it ends: )
