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


Chapter Fourteen:

Jessica was next to Sam, speaking at an accelerated rate. "I was so scared... I couldn't..."

"Hey, it's alright." Sam soothed his frantic girlfriend. Comforting Jessica had always come been a second nature. "I'm here, it's fine, I'm fine. No harm, no foul."

"I didn't..."

"Sammy!" Dean's frantic cry could be heard, Sam was sure, throughout the entire floor. And as his brother was perched in his doorway, it was particularly loud.

"Geez, Dean..." but Sam did not have time to criticize his brother further. The elder man was at his side in an instant, gripping his shoulder firmly, and studying him intently.

"Are you okay?" He was still frantic. "What happened? Why'd..."

He trailed off there because Sam glanced automatically to his girlfriend, who had pulled out of his embrace slightly when Dean had entered the room.

"I didn't tell them." She whispered, looking only at Sam. "I was...I couldn't..."

"It's okay," He soothed again.

Dean was not as calm. "What?" His eyes darted between the two rapidly. "Didn't tell us what? Jessica..."

"She's pregnant." Sam blurted. He knew the shock factor would shut his brother up for a moment. That's how they worked. Long, drawn out conversations were not for them.

He was still partially in shock himself. He was going to be a father. He was...

This isn't real.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought. He wasn't going to be a father...it was a trap. Dean was coming to save him.

Only Dean was standing in front of him, hand still partially firm on his shoulder. Staring at Sam with a shocked expression that was slowly fading into something unidentifiable, tinged with pride.

"Come again?" Was his only response after a few more endless moments.

"Pregnant." Jess said it this time. "I'm having a baby. I found out...a while ago."

"But she just told me...last night?" Sam confirmed, not really wanting to go into the details of how the pregnancy had been discovered. Dean's curt nod informed him that he had the timing correct. "I guess I just couldn't handle the shock." Sam shrugged.

"Well..." Dean let out a deep breath. "I'll be dammed."

Jessica chuckled a somewhat watery chuckle. "Elegant as ever."

Dean didn't even respond to the barb, his eyes still on his brother. "Wow, Sammy, that's...congrats dude."

Sam shot him a half smile. "Thanks," and he meant it. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Understandable." Dean nodded. "Have you thought about telling mom or dad yet? They've both been worried sick, they thought... Well, they thought you were regressing."

"Nah," Sam shook his head and ignored the guilt pooling in the depths of his stomach. "Just…ya know, shock."

"That's…" Dean's head snapped suddenly to Jessica. "Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have figured out a way to tell Sam that wouldn't have landed him back in the hospital." His voice was firm, but lacking any real anger.

Jessica hung her head. "I thought about it…I guess I just wanted Sam to know first."

"Okay, well I guess that's…"

Dean stopped talking. Just broke off in the middle of the sentence, and when Sam turned away from Jessica to ask him why, he was forced, once again, to do a double take.

Standing where alternate reality Dean had been just moments before, was the scary Dean. The one from the kitchen in his nightmare, or whatever that had been. Sam's double take did not make him fade, and this Dean's hollow eyes kept staring.

"You can't run." He said. There was a long pause, before the evil being raised half its bloody lip into something resembling a snarl.

The evil Dean reached forward and placed a hand over Sam's heart. Immediately the younger man felt the beginnings of pain tug harshly at the organ. He instinctively jerked away from the touch, turning his head to see if Jessica was still there.

His girlfriend was indeed by his side, only she was sporting a concerned gaze, which held unmasked questioning.

Sam turned again to face the Dean that wasn't his brother, to try to explain to Jessica what was going on…but that Dean was gone.

"Sammy?" Concerned alternate reality Dean stood where the evil being had just moments before the nightmarish interruption. "What's going on?"

"You…" Sam blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. The pain was fading, almost gone completely. "You just said…"

"I said you'd have to tell mom and dad tomorrow." The concern did not fade. "Are you alright? I thought…"

Jessica picked up where Dean couldn't. "It was like you blacked out. For a second I thought you were gone again."

"No," Sam shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts away and smiling a convincing fake smile. "I'm fine, I just… I guess I'm a little exhausted."

"That's understandable," Dean chuckled slightly. "We'll let you get some rest now."

Jessica uncurled herself from his side and stood up, looking slightly shaky. "I'll go call your parents, let them know you're awake."

Sam nodded and smiled tightly as she left. Dean stayed where he was, but Sam hadn't honestly expected him to go anywhere. Although, after the…whatever the hell that had been a few moments ago, he had been silently hoping that he would.

But no, Dean just took a seat in the ever-present chair next to Sam's bed, settling himself in, obviously preparing for a long night.

Sam immediately felt his mind drift off into the thousand and one questions he had now, and still. As some had not changed. The most daunting one on the whole list was, what if he was dead in the other world?

"Dean," Sam started before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?" His brother was always on alert.

"If something happens to me…"

"Stop right there." Dean demanded, cutting him off. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

Sam sighed. He didn't know why he felt so inclined to do this, but his…weird vibes; his 'shining' instinct was telling him that he didn't have much time left. Since his psychic freak powers didn't come with a handbook or cliff notes or any sort of instructions, he couldn't tell if these feelings meant Dean would be coming soon, or that he was indeed dying.

Whatever they meant, he could feel that his time was almost up, and as much as he hated to admit it, as weak as it proved he was, as easy to manipulate; he had become attached to this world. He'd come to love this Dean like a version of the brother he had never had. He had reformed his bond with Jessica.

He had met his mother. Finally, after all this time, he had met his mother. He didn't want to let of any of that go . He felt vaguely as if he were an innocent victim, cursed with the knowledge of his impeding death.

"Dean," Sam started again, but sighed away all his frustration. "I know nothing's gonna happen to me." He smirked at the ceiling, not willing to meet his brother's eyes. Dean would be able to read the lies there. "But if it does…"

"Sammy…" he warned again, but it was much less firm.

"No, just listen." And this time he complied. "If something happens to me…I want you to take care of Jessica, and…and the baby, okay?"

"Sam, I…"

"You'll make a great dad, Dean." And for a second they both knew the decision had already been made. A brief, almost bubble-like, moment of clarity. It was faded moments later and neither could place their finger on it again. "You really will."

Dean snorted. "I've never been that great with kids," he reminded, the mood somehow a smidgen lighter.

"You were pretty damn good with me." Sam recalled. Ignoring the fact that he was dredging up memories of his Dean, not this one.

"Well you're my brother," Sam could hear the smirk. "I liked having you around."

"You took care of me." Sam said evenly, he wondered how much his real past and the one from this world clashed. "You were always there when I needed you."

"Until you grew up." And for a solid couple of seconds Sam's thoughts were of Stanford, the asylum, Dr. Kabala, and other flashes of his real past. "You didn't need me. I couldn't…"

"What?" Sam pressed, disregarding his own confused thoughts.

"I couldn't protect you from a psychotic dude with a gun," Dean's chuckle was so hallow, that Sam actually turned his head to make sure that it wasn't crazy Dean again. "You sure you want me taking care of your kid?"

"That wasn't your fault." Sam said firmly. "None of this is."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Maybe not. But I still hate that I can't stop it."

Sam bit his lip. "I know." Then, so low that it could barely be heard. "Me too."

"Go to sleep Sammy." Dean commanded after a few moments. "It'll be better in the morning."

"Yeah." He responded, but didn't believe it for a second.

In the morning, he thought bitterly. Everything could be over.


Dean was one 'No sir, there's absolutely nothing we can do to help you' away from losing it.

He'd been stuck in a seemingly never-ending traffic jam all fucking morning. His clothes were still bloody from the night before and that blood was acting as a fusion between his clothes and his skin. Memories of his father were still dancing clearly through his mind. The elder man killing Meg, before leaving again.

Leaving Dean to take care of Sam. Leaving Dean to fix his mistake. Something that Dean was failing drastically in is attempts to do.

All his thoughts were muddled and unfocused. He was running on about two days of no sleep - of you didn't count being knocked out. Yet he couldn't let that get to him, he had to...

"Sir, are you still there?" The professional female voice spoke clearly through the other end of his cell phone and Dean was snapped suddenly back to reality.

"Yeah, Yeah I'm here, who are you? Can you help me?" He tried not to let his voice portray panic. No one like t talk to a panicked person.

"My name is Lisa Gibson and I'm Assistant Director in charge of fraudulent crimes at the F.B.I, am I the person you've been trying to reach?"

'Cause God forbid I accidentally waste your time. Dean thought bitterly, but spoke only. "I don't know, I've been trying to talk to someone for about an hour now, no one's been very helpful." And if I wasn't stuck in this car, in a freaking line of cars that forgot how to move, I might actually be doing something helpful right now...

"Can you explain your situation again?" Lisa was speaking patiently, and sounded interested. Perhaps Dean had finally lucked out.

"I've already...ah, never mind." He paused, deciding he had no other choice than to explain again his circumstances. "Look, my brother..." And Dean explained as best he could, and as quickly as he could, abut the situation with Sam. About his condition and leaving him in the care of Dr. Kabala at Grandville's psych ward.

"...the thing is," he continued. "My brother called me and said something bad was going on. I'm on my way back there now, but the traffic won't move and...look, I tried looking up Grandville on the computer, to check it out, you know?" Not that I should've have done that a week ago, before I dumped Sammy there.

"And you found something?' She guessed.

"No." Dean spoke the word like an accusation. "I didn't find a thing."

"Well, sir," She spoke calmly. "I'm not sure I understand, if nothing seems to be out of the ordinary with the hospital, perhaps you should just go check on your brother, maybe his condition is worse than the initial diagnosis..."

"No," Dean cut her off. "Sammy's fine. You don't understand. When I say I didn't find a thing, I mean, I didn't find anything. According to my research, the hospital doesn't exist."

There was a pause. "Now that can't be right, even the lowest of technology establishments have some sort of internet resource."

"Check for yourself." Dean snapped and moments later heard the clicking of computer keys that indicted she was doing just that.

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as a way to keep his impatience in check. Blaring the horn and screaming every swearword known to man would not be helpful in this situation.

Still, after a few more silent moments, he could not stand it. "There was a gunshot."

"Pardon?" Lisa sounded distracted.

"A gunshot." He repeated. "When Sam called me. I heard a gun go off in the background."

"Are you sure?"

"I know what a gun sounds like." He snapped, then calmer. "I'm a hunter."

And I'm gonna hunt and kill that psycho doctor.

The next half an hour had him repeating the name and location of the hospital at least a dozen times. He'd spelled out and described Dr. Kabala just as much. He'd been put on hold, and asked to repeat various parts of his story to at least nine or ten other people.

In all that time, he'd moved maybe half an inch in traffic. He was a few seconds away form taking out a shotgun and...

"Mr. Winchester?" Lisa was back on the line and Dean let his violent thoughts fade.

"Yeah, can you tell me what's going on?" God did that sound familiar.

"Have you ever heard of the black market?"

"Of course." He snapped, how was this relevant? "Who hasn't?"

"Have you ever heard of Hospital frauds?"

"Huh?"

"They're rare, and usually the F.B.I. or the C.I. A. has them tracked down within a few months of operation." She was speaking factually and Dean was hanging onto her every word, the disastrous feeling in the pit of his stomach growing to one of all consuming dread. "On a smaller scale, it's kind of like the old urban legend about the stranger stealing the kidney."

Of course, Dean knew what story she was referring to and he didn't believe what this woman was trying to tell him. "Wait a second." He demanded. "Are you trying to tell me that Dr. Kabala wants to steal my brother's kidney?" Even as he said the words, they sounded ridicules to his own ears.

"No," she said, her tone changing from professional to deeply concentrated, as if she were seated around a campfire telling a ghost story. Which sat fine with Dean; ghost stories were what the Winchester's did best. "I'm saying that sometimes people will set up fake hospitals, entire establishments filled with workers who have no idea what's going on, just to kill patients and sell their organs on the black market."

"Wh-why would anyone..." Dean trailed off; he hadn't been expecting anything near as mind blowing as that.

"Many motives for such crimes have been established." Lisa's tone held understanding sympathy. "People need the money, they get too far over their head with international scams, terrorism plots, satanic cults...and sometimes we run across the mentally disturbed ones who just honestly believe they're doing in for the betterment of mankind."

"How can killing people be for the 'betterment of mankind'?" Dean spat the words angrily.

"If someone believes that the person, or people, they're killing is unfit to be a part of the human race..."

"Wait one Goddamn second." Dean's voice was rising and he could barely keep from full out shouting. "Are you talking about fucking...neo Nazis or something?"

"It could be." She said simply, although it had a sad edge. "As soon as we infiltrate the facility, we'll know for sure."

"When?" Dean latched onto the hope there. "When are you gonna go in there?"

"We have two teams already dispatched and a third and fourth on standby." Professional again, and Dean allowed himself a brief moment of hope. "We'll get Dr. Kabala; you can be assured of that much."

"You just don't know if you'll be able to save my brother." Dean finally realized.

An endless pause, before, "We'll try our best."

Dean clicked his phone shut without warning, and tossing it to the side. He bit his lip and hesitated for only a second. Before revving the engine of his classic, reliable old car and pulling, in a huff of smoke, into the emergency lane blissfully close to his left hand side.

He took off at the speed intended to be traveled on a highway, disregarding the angry protests of the drivers around him. He figured it wouldn't be long before cops would be chasing after him, but he didn't care. Couldn't bring himself to even pretend to.

He had left his brother alone and defenseless against a fucking neo-nazi - or someone as equally psychotic - who was planning on killing him so he could sell his body parts. The thought of that was enough to make his stomach churn and rebel against him.

He ignored the queasy feelings though, feeling as if they were a small price to pay for having been such a shitty big brother. And, for the moment, all that mattered was getting back to his little brother.

He stepped on the gas, speed limit be damned, and watched as the speedometer climbed to eighty, then eighty-five, and on, until finally, he didn't feel so helpless.

End Chapter.