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 Six:

Sam woke with tears in his eyes.

His sleep had been plagued with feelings of self doubt, vulnerability and weakness. He'd had nightmares in which he'd refaced the worst experiences of his life. And had been disappointed, time and time again, about how weak he'd been. How pathetic.

He was a coward. He'd proven it so many times. When he failed to take a risk. When he stayed securely within his comfort zone. When he abandoned the only life he'd ever known, to chase a fickle dream. When he'd turned his back on his family. On his brother.

Dean had once told him that he admired Sam for the way he went after what he wanted, that he was proud of him, for standing up to their dad. He had almost admitted that he wished he possessed the same courage. But Dean would never really say that. He would never turn his back on their dad like that. He was the good son.

Remembering his big brother's uncharacteristic confession did not bring the comfort that it should have. It left him feeling even guiltier. How could Sam be that selfish, and then get praised for it? How could Dean not hate him?

Because he hated himself sometimes. He hated that he had abandoned Dean, turned his back on him, when all he ever did was take care of him, protect him. Hell, Dean had basically raised him, for fuck's sake. And how did he repay him? He left for college and barely even bothered to call.

His brother could have been hurt, could have died, anytime in those four years. And Sam wouldn't even have known. He wouldn't have wanted to know. Because ignorance is bliss, and he'd wished his entire life for ignorance. From the things he saw, hunted and killed every day.

Going to Stanford had been the most guilt wrenching experience of his entire life, but it wasn't the leaving his father that had haunted him all those sleepless nights in his dorm. It wasn't the thought of all the innocents that could die because he wouldn't be there to save them. Those thoughts certainly made their appearances, he could not deny that.

But, what had made him feel truly pathetic and selfish, every single goddamn day he'd been at college, was the memory of Dean's face when he'd told him that he was leaving.

Sam no longer remembered the words he had used, he didn't recall how he phrased it, or what spin he might have put on it, although he was sure Dean did.

No, all Sam could remember was the very end of their conversation.

"You have to do what you have to do." Dean said icily.

Sam nodded, but was feeling less and less secure in his decision.

"I'm sorry..." he said for lack of anything substantial to redeem himself with.

"I know." Dean's voice was so ambiguous that Sam couldn't even begin to decipher the emotions there.

What really hit though, was the look on his face. It was odd because Sam had seen the look many, many times before.

Whenever their dad gave him an order, or reprimanded him in the heat of the moment during a hunt. Whenever he played on Dean's natural instincts to be the protector, and accused him of failing.

That was the face Dean had on. Only now, it was directed at his little brother.

Yet Sam still left.

Mere hours after his confrontation with Dean, Sam and his father had fought about the same subject. It was easier to want to leave his dad, he held much more anger towards the man, he hated him more than he could ever contemplate hating his big brother.

John Winchester had ended that fight by announcing that Sam was no longer a member of the Winchester family, and that he should leave the house immediately, before something bad happened.

Sam complied. He had wanted to dart into Dean's room, to say something, anything that might mend a little of the gigantic the gap he was creating. But he had been scared. Scared of his father, and scared of what Dean might say to him.

So he had left without really saying goodbye to his brother. He'd left, and they barely spoke for the next four years.

It was on occasions that he was reminded of his selfishness, that he hated himself.

On occasions where fear was present in Dean's eyes. Not fear that Sam was hurt or in danger, those were the fears that Sam secretly took comfort in.

It was when Dean looked at Sam like he was afraid Sam would leave him again. It was a vulnerability that Dean had every right to. One that Sam, and their father, had installed in him. The fear of abandonment.

He'd seen it in his eyes when he'd said goodbye to Lori, after they had saved her from the Hook Man. He'd seen it at the bus stop after they'd seen Emily off, when Dean had asked, as casually as he could muster, if he could drop Sam off anywhere. There were countless other occasions.

Dean would go to the ends of the earth to save his brother, but Sam didn't even have the decency to stick around half the time.

These were the occasions, where Sam really did hate himself.

"Your awake." Dean's voice was sudden, and lightly accusing.

Sam opened his eyes and focused on his brother. Thoughts from his half conscious brain still whirling around in his head.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't help saying.

"For what?"

"Leaving, I guess. Abandoning you, when all you do is constantly save my ass." Sam chuckled lightly. "I woke up feeling really guilty about it. I had the strangest dream ever. I dreamt that I was zoning in and out reality and in the place I kept waking up in, everything was really normal, you know? No monsters. No things that go bump in the night. It was everything that I ever wanted, and you just kind of left me there to live it."

"Sam..." Dean said slowly, more concern apparent.

Sam groaned out loud and shut his eyes tightly. Okay, so he'd been expecting that, but he couldn't help but try. He'd felt guilty for wanting to come back here. He felt like he was abandoning his brother, yet again, by wishing for this place.

"Yeah," he said, eyes open again, cutting off whatever this version of his brother was planning on saying. "I know. This is real. We're all normal. Jessica's outside with mom and dad, and we're all about to go on a family picnic."

Dean snorted his amusement. "Considering you can't manage to stay conscious for any solid amount of time, no, not so much. But I could sneak in some fried chicken and an apple pie, if that'd make you feel better."

It was at this point that Sam decided to sit up completely in the hospital bed he was, once again, confined to. Although not for long, as he shot his brother an annoyed look, he proceeded to lift himself up out of bed.

"Hey," Dean protested, sitting up straighter in his chair, immediately alarmed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Going to the bathroom." Sam answered honestly. He didn't even want to try and calculate the time differences between the two worlds he was now a part of. He had no clue as to where he would even begin. The sciences and practicalities of time here vs. Time there, completely alluded him, but he knew he had to take a piss, and his bladder would not be denied.

His brother looked pensive and Sam sighed. "I'm crazy Dean, not an invalid."

"Your not crazy." He said immediately, in much the same way the real Dean had, except this one said it without anger or exasperation.

"No of course not." He said agreeably, with only a tinge of sarcasm noticeable in his voice. "But I am taking a piss now."

He made it to the bathroom with little trouble. While Dean kept a close eye on him, before Sam shut the bathroom door firmly behind him. He made no move to help him, which Sam found undeniably reliving. There was brotherly love, then there was just sick.

He reentered the room a few minutes later, but did not return to the bed. He had found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt stored away in the tiny bathroom, and had gratefully put them on, not really wanting to sport a hospital gown any longer.

The thought of laying back down on that bed depressed him, so he moved to the other side of the room. Where the couch sat in front of the window.

"So where is everyone else?" Sam questioned, after a moment of gazing out at the night sky placidly, Dean's eyes burning a hole through the back of his head.

"It's one in the morning. Jessica's resting at my place, and mom and dad went home for the night." He could here the relief in Dean's voice, and it wasn't shocking. Out of all the conversations he could of breached, that was probably one of the easiest.

Sam still wasn't entirely sure about how he felt about his place, this...trap, really. That's what this place was. A trap.

A big fucking trap designed by someone who obviously knew him very well. Someone who wanted him to never leave the confines of his own mind ever again.

He knew that that's what was happening. That's what Dean, the real Dean, had told him. And Dean would never lie to him about something like that. Dean wouldn't lie to him at all.

Still, he found it very hard to think of this place as something bad, or even as something not real.

"You never leave?" Sam asked, ignoring his own internal questions.

"Someone's always here with you Sam. For the last two weeks. Just incase you woke up." Dean's voice was reassuring.

It was something that his Dean would think, but never say. Do, but never admit to. Gloss over with humor; his fear of serious conversations tainted almost everything the brothers had ever discussed.

"What happened here?" He couldn't help but be curious. "Why have I been in a coma for the last..."

"Two weeks, five days and fourteen hours." He filled in instantly.

"Twenty two hours." Dean answered immediately.

Sam was assaulted with the random clip of memory from the other hospital. It was the same voice, same tone, same fear, apprehension, relief; everything.

Must be one fucking powerful curse.

"Sam?" Dean called lightly.

"Yeah," he said immediately. "keep going."

"You were caught up in a robbery." He told him, sounding almost impassive. Almost. Something very tangible was swimming just below the surface of his words, but Sam did not focus on it. "A bank robbery. The night Jessica was sick, you went to get take out, but you needed cash. The police said the ATM out side was busted. That's the only reason you were in the bank at all."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and Sam couldn't help but comment. "Shitty luck."

Dean nodded, and after a moment, kept going. "Two guys came in with guns and held the place up. It was seven o'clock on a Friday night. The whole bank was packed with people. A lot had little kids with them, you know? Banks are always like that on Fridays."

Sam immediately wanted to ask his brother, 'How would you know?' The words were on the tip of his tong even, before he remembered that in this this world, Dean probably would know what banks were like on Fridays.

He also probably didn't know how to make fake Police ID's, play poker expertly, pick locks and hot wire cars. Although the last few were debatable.

"You had to play hero." Dean said, shaking his head. His voice was a mixture of pride, anger and exasperation. "You tried to talk the gunmen down. And when that didn't work, you tackled one of them, you fought him for a while, and held your own pretty damn good. According to the people that were in there watching, anyway."

"Did everyone make it out alright?"

"Yeah. You were the only person who got hurt. One of the guys pistol whipped you, then they threw you across the floor, so hard that when your head hit the ground it cracked."

"Cracked?" Sam asked, not liking the word too much. Okay, so none of it actually happened in reality, and he was just humoring Dean, or so he kept telling himself.

But he'd still woken up with that painful little demonic thing attacking his skull. He'd still seen the giant bandage covering half of his head in the mirror in the bathroom, he could still felt it's soreness when he prodded at it gently.

"You fractured your skull, Sammy." Dean said quietly. "There was so much internal bleeding and swelling that the doctors didn't even think you were gonna live. When you got to the hospital that night, they couldn't identify you because those bastards took your wallet before bolting. Someone had managed to call the cops while you were fighting them."

"They didn't get away did they?" Fake world or not, Sam could just not tolerate the thought of that.

"Nope." Dean gave the closest thing to a grin that Sam had seen for the duration of his story. "The cops caught up with them a couple hours later at the state border. They put up a fight, and they ended up getting shot."

"Good." Sam said sincerely.

Dean nodded his agreement before continuing. "They both died, one immediately, one later at the hospital. Doctors said he suffered." Both men grinned wickedly.

"Then, before you passed out, you said my name. One of the nurses tracked me down, and, well, that's it. Me and Jess got here then called mom and dad, and you slept for two weeks." Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair once again.

Sam nodded. It was a good story, very believable. Too believable, really.

He shook his head at the thought, wondering if it even made sense.

Then again, how did any of this really make sense?

"Where are we?" He asked his brother. He wanted to hear more of the foundation behind this world's existence.

Dean blinked once before answering, "Kansas."

"You shitting me right?" Disbelief was his initial reaction, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. Really, why should that be surprising?

"No. I'm not." Dean said simply. "You and Jessica were up here for Christmas break. You were staying at home since mom and dad were vacationing in Maui."

"Right." Sam agreed. "Second honeymoon. Jess told me." He paused again, "So where do I live? We." He corrected immediately. "Where do me and Jessica live?"

"California. Stanford. Master's degree. This ringing any bells?" Dean knew it wasn't. Knew that his kid brother had no recollection of his world, but treating the situation with humor was the only way he could think to deal with it.

Sam reflected that in this world, this was probably the weirdest thing Dean had ever been faced with. He couldn't jump in and try and to fix what was happening to his little brother like his Dean had done. Here, there was no way to fix mental breakdowns. There was no person to track down, nothing to kill, no location spell. And no abandonment in psychiatric facilities.

"I went to Stanford. I was studying to be a lawyer." He answered, trying his best to put Dean's mind at ease, without down right lying to him. "In the real world, my reality, whatever you want to call it."

"How bout we just call it Brazil?" He suggested with mock sincerity.

Sam promptly flicked him off. Although a part of him was secretly relieved that this Dean continued to joke so carelessly about the situation.

End Chapter.

A/N:

Okay, this was originally only the first half of Chapter Six, but since Chapter Six was way too long to post as one chapter,

it got chopped in half. That's why it ends so weird.

The next part will be arriving shortly.

#looks at end of chapter#

Like tomorrow, cause that really does end bad, dosen't it?

In the mean time, what do you think?

REVIEW PLEASE!