Chapter Fifty-Eight

Dean was rifling through his mom's China cabinet – the cabinet where she kept her silverware – when he heard a creak on the stairs. He continued on until he felt a presence behind him and then he turned around. It was a good thing he had because Sam was there with a baseball ready to swing.

Dean was easily able to disarm him and get him on the ground.

"Dean?"

"That was so easy, I'm almost embarrassed for you."

"What're you doing here?"

"I was looking for a beer."

He and Sam had been in a similar situation the year before when he had gone to get Sam from Stanford to go look for their dad. Of course, this Sam wouldn't have a clue about that.

"In the China cabinet?" Sam asked as Dean helped him up.

Sam went to switch the light on before coming back to see what was up. Dean knew it wouldn't look good – the silverware having been gone through – and he knew what it looked like.

"You broke into the house to steal mom's silver?"

"It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice."

"Really? Why? What's so important that you gotta steal from your own mother?"

"You want the truth."

"Yeah."

For a split second, Dean considered it, but Sam – this Sam would only think he was crazy if he told the truth, so he came up with something that would go with the Dean this Sam knew.

"I owe somebody money. A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he didn't seem surprised.

"I can't believe we're even related."

"Sam, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we don't get along, and I wish I could stay and fix it. But I gotta do this. People's lives depend on it."

Dean turned and reached for one of the silver knives in his mom's collection.

"What're you talkin' about, Dean?"

"Nothin'. Forget it. Just, uh . . . tell mom I love her."

Dean began walking towards the front door, but he stopped and turned around when Sam said his name.

"I'll see ya, Sammy."

He looked up the stairs, where he knew his mom was sleeping. He hoped she was sleeping peacefully at least. He wished he could say good-bye, but he knew he couldn't. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm going with you," Sam said.

"What? No, you're not. You're just gonna slow me down."

"Tough."

"This is dangerous, and you could get hurt."

"Yeah, and so could you, Dean. So . . . whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not doing it alone, and that's that."

Sam gave him a look he was very familiar with. Sam's classic stubborn and annoyed bitch-face. It made Dean realize how serious Sam was.

"I don't understand. Why're you doing this?"

"Because you're still my brother."

Dean could respect that.

"A'right. But you're stayin' in the car when we get there."

Once they were in the car and on the road, Dean ran into a snag when Sam found a far of blood in a brown paper bag. Dean had warned him not to look, but it seemed that Sam was stubborn in any world he lived in.

"What is this doing in here?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know."

"Yeah, I do. I really, really do."

"I was hoping you would think it was alcohol and not bother looking." Dean sighed. "Oh, well, you're gonna find out sooner or later. I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"Why?"

"Because there's this creature, a jinn, and I have to hunt it."

Dean could feel Sam's incredulous stare on him for a few seconds before Sam put the jar of blood back in the bag and told him to stop the car.

"I know how it sounds."

"Great. Just stop the car."

"It's the truth, Sam. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things. People have to be saved and if we don't save them, then nobody will."

"Okay. I wanna help you. I really, really do. But you're having some kind of psychotic breakdown. I just –"

"I wish."

Dean didn't so much as see Sam take out his phone as he heard when Sam started dialing. Dean rolled his window down, grabbed Sam's phone, and tossed it out of the car.

"What the hell was that? Dean, that was my phone."

"I'm not goin' to a rubber room, Sammy, and we got work to do."

"I was just tryin' to help you out, Dean. I don't want you to get yourself hurt."

"You protect me? That's hilarious. Why don't you just sit tight and try not to get us both killed?"

Sam slumped back in his seat, sulking, which was something Dean was familiar with as well.

"Look, we have a couple hours drive ahead, so why don't you get some sleep."

"A couple hours?"

"You're the one who wanted to come."

Dean turned the radio on and up. Lynard Skynard was playing. At least this world still had good music.

By the time Dean pulled up to the abandoned building, Sam was sleeping. Dean shined a light in his face to wake him up. When he saw they were parked outside an old factory, he asked if Dean was sure there was something in there.

"I know it is."

Dean got out, grabbing everything he needed on the way. He dipped the silver knife in the lamb's blood and then turned the flashlight on before heading for the entrance to the building.

Sam did not listen, and he did not stay in the car. He did, however, stay behind Dean.

Dean pretty much remembered the layout of the place, but it was almost pitch-black inside. The flashlight showed off typewriters as Dean came to the first room. There were filing cabinets as well, and papers thrown all over the floor. There were a couple of fans in the corners, but the power wasn't on in the building so they obviously weren't working.

"There's nothin' here, Dean."

"There's somethin' here."

Dean continued further into the building into a hallway. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, but he heard the sound of water trickling from somewhere.

About a minute later, he and Sam both came to an abrupt halt as the sound of whimpering reached them.

"What is that?" Sam asked, now sounding uncertain because Dean had obviously been right.

"Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut."

Sam nodded and they moved on, following the sound of what Dean was sure was a girl in pain – or at the very least frightened out of her mind. It led them to a dark, damp room. The first thing Dean saw were the two mummified people hanging there. They had been hooked up to a machine that had slowly drawn all their blood from them.

"What the hell?" Sam said.

"There's a girl here. Someone was making noises and it obviously wasn't them."

Dean found her over in the corner. She was also strung up. Blood was being taken from her as well. Dean recognized her – the messy hair, dirty dress, the wounds on her neck and her head.

"Dean, what's goin' on?"

"Shh."

Dean heard footsteps and then watched as the jinn – the one he'd seen before – came out from around the corner. Dean pushed Sam to hide behind some crates and quickly followed behind him.

Dean watched as the girl started mumbling about her dad and as the jinn stopped in front of her. The girl became even more aware, but then the jinn touched her face, sending some type of blue light into her and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Was that what had happened to Dean? Was he strung up somewhere? Was he just dreaming all this?

The jinn moved to the side of the girl, detached the IV tube, and brought it to his mouth to squirt some of the blood into his mouth.

Sam made a sound of disgust, which drew the jinn's attention away from the girl for a few seconds, but when everything was silent again, the jinn reattached the tube and left the room.

"This is real?" Sam asked, breath erratic. "You're not crazy."

"She didn't know where she was. She thought she was with her father."

Sam and Dean slowly came out of hiding and went back to the girl.

"What if that's what the jinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish. It just makes you think it has."

"Look, man, that thing could come back, a'right?" Sam said, trying to pull him away. "Dean, please."

Dean moved, saw a bare light bulb on the ceiling, and then he got a few flashes that reminded him of a flickering light. Quick little things: himself strung up with robe, him attached to an IV, him having his blood drawn into a bag.

"What if I'm like her?"

Now it was Dean who was breathing erratically.

"What if I'm tied up in here someplace? What if all this is in my head?"

"What? Dean, you're right here."

Sam touched his shoulder, so he turned around.

"Maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid trip and then just feeds on us slow."

"No, Dean, that doesn't make sense, okay?"

Dean made his way back to the girl, who was so far down she was completely unresponsive.

"What if that's why she keeps appearin' to me? She's not a spirit. It's like more and more I'm catching flashes of reality."

"Dean –"

"You know, I'm in here somewhere. I'm catatonic – I'm takin' all this stuff in, but can't snap out of it."

Or maybe he was snapping out of it and that was why he was catching flashes of reality. The jinn hadn't dosed him with any more magic yet.

"Okay, look, you were right," Sam said. "I was wrong. You're not crazy, but we need to get out of here fast."

Sam grabbed his arm and began dragging him back the way they had come, but Dean shoved him off.

"Dean!"

"I don't think you're real."

"Dean." Sam grabbed his arms and squeezed tightly. "You feel that?" Sam shook him. "You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real."

"There's one way to be sure."

Dean pulled the knife out, business end pointed away from Sam, but he still back away.

"What're you doing?"

"It's an old wives' tale. If you're about to die in a dream, you'll wake up."

"That's crazy."

"Maybe."

"You're gonna kill yourself."

"Or I'm gonna wake up. One or the other."

"Look," Sam said, keeping his eye on the knife and putting his hands up in surrender, "this isn't a dream, a'right? I'm here with you right now, and you're about to kill yourself, Dean."

"No, I'm pretty sure . . . like ninety percent sure."

Though he wanted to believe this was real, that he had really gotten to spend time with his mom. That there was a world where she was alive.

Dean turned the knife so he could stab himself in the stomach, got a good grip with both hands.

"Wait!"

Dean heard footsteps off to the side, too soft to belong to the jinn, so he glanced in that direction. It was his mom, only not the one he'd been spending time with. Or, no, it was, but she was dressed like his mom had been the night she'd died. Night gown and all.

"Why'd you have to keep digging?" Sam asked. "Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

Jessica showed up on his other side.

"You were happy."

"No, it's not real. None of it."

His mom stepped in front of him. "Put the knife down, honey."

"You're not real."

"It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had."

"What?"

"It's everything you want. We're a family again. Let's go home."

"No. Sam and I don't get along. Alyson is –"

"She's fine where she is. She's not really dead. None of them are."

"I'll die. The jinn will drain the life out of me in a couple of days."

"But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime, I promise."

Dean looked at Sam, who nodded, and then his mom was touching his face to draw his attention back to her.

"No more pain, no more fear. Just love and comfort and safety." She smiled softly. "Dean . . . stay with us. Get some rest."

"You don't have to worry about Sam anymore," Jessica said. "You get to watch him live a full life."

Dean looked her way, but he had stopped listening as soon as his mom had mentioned love and comfort and safety. The last time he'd felt any of those – really felt them – had been with Alyson.

They were all looking at him, waiting for him to decide what to do. Sam even had tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, stepping back and not hesitating to plunge the knife into his mid-section.

"Dean!"

He heard Sam's voice calling to him over and over again.

"Oh, God. Come on!"

Dean was vaguely aware of someone touching him and shaking him gently.

"Wake up!"

Dean tried to respond vocally, but he was only awake enough to make eye contact with Sam – the real Sam. Dean had to be in the real world; he was in too much pain to be dreaming again.

He felt a small pinch in his neck, but that was the least of his worries.

"Sam?"

"Hey." The relief was apparent in Sam's voice. "I thought I lost you for a minute."

"You almost did," Dean mumbled.

"Let's get you down."

He hadn't even been aware that he was strung up. His shoulders had gone past the point of being sore and had become numb. It was going to such once the circulation started flowing again.

It was as Sam was cutting him down that the jinn appeared, taking them by surprise. Sam was knocked backwards, knocking his head on the floor and dropping the knife.

Dean could only struggle to free himself as he watched the jinn straddle Sam and start choking him. One of the ropes broke and he began pulling on the other one. Eventually he got free and he was able to get to the knife and jam it into the jinn's heart before he could whammy Sam.

They both had to take a minute to catch their breath, but Dean eventually remembered the girl and went in search of her. She was in the same spot she had been in his dream. She was alive but very much unconscious.

"Sam!"

He motioned for Sam to cut her down, so he did, and Dean gently caught her even though he was weak and his arms were killing him now.

"We need to get her to a hospital," he said.

"We need to get you both to a hospital," Sam countered.

"I'm fine. I just need some sleep."

"Dean . . ."

"I killed the jinn, didn't I?"

"Fine."