Part 3 - first glimpse
Sam blinked in the darkness, aching to move, but the tightening grip on his sleeve told him that Dean was still there and didn't want him to move or talk. The only sounds inside the closet were their quiet, stuttering breaths. Outside, John Winchester was still stomping around, shouting for Dean. He could hear the slight hitch in breath coming from beside him. Imagined the younger version of his brother curling into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Sam didn't like the image playing out in his head, didn't like that this could be a real memory of Dean's. That Dean could even be a tiny bit afraid of their dad. It was wrong. It went against everything Sam had been told, had been shown. Dean never told Sam of anything that could cause him to be scared of John Winchester. Never even hinted. Maybe...maybe this was Michael.
He licked his suddenly dry lips as their dad came closer. He could see John's boots through the shutters. He felt Dean shiver beside him. Gripped his sleeve harder. The boots stepped even closer, and Dean leaned in to whisper in Sam's ear, "This is where he catches me," just at the same time the door suddenly rattled and the closet shook and the light flickered and Sam lurched to his feet as he was suddenly shoved, "RUN, Sammy! Don't let him catch you too!" The door swung open and Sam stumbled forward, nearly colliding into the furious figure of his dad.
"Run!" Dean hissed, and Sam moved into action, scrambling out of the way as John made to grab him.
The room crumbled away as Sam ran for the motel door, opening it just to see Castiel's face peering out in concern. "Oh, there you are, Sam," Cas said, grabbing hold of him just as the motel melted away. They were standing in the darkness of Dean's mind again.
"What the hell was that?" Sam panted.
"That must have been a memory of some sort, or perhaps Michael must have sensed us in here….and has been messing with us," Cas murmured, looking around for another door. He started to walk and Sam had no choice but to follow him.
Sam hesitated, hated to think Michael could have so much power here. "Do you really think Michael has the power to plant...fake memories?"
Cas paused, pursing his lips. He turned to look at Sam. "You have to understand, Sam, that Michael is an archangel and he's currently in control of your brother's body, which includes his mind. While there is no doubt that a lot of these will be real memories, some that Dean has never shared with anyone, including you..." Sam tried not to flinch at how calm Cas could say something like that. "You just have to remember that it is also within Michael's nature to manipulate. You have seen him in his world, with Mary and Jack. This is a twisted version of my brother."
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Cas was right. This was a Michael who defeated his brother and waited for God to show up. When nothing happened, he became hurt and angry to the point that he'd rather kill God if he ever showed his face. He'd seen the terrifying blankness on his face when he tortured and experimented on countless innocent people in his own world, on vampires and werewolves in theirs, trying to create the perfect monster army. Seen the pure hatred when he talked about killing God. This version of Michael was unhinged, and there was no telling what he'd do to them, to Dean, to get his way.
"We have to find Dean," he said.
Cas nodded. "We are going to, Sam. That's why we're here. Now follow me. I can hear something over there."
Cas ran ahead to what looked like another door. Sam caught up to him, stopping just next to him to see that the door was brown this time and it read "Monroe High School, 1995". Why did that sound familiar? He tried desperately to recall that year. He would've been…
"You were twelve," Cas said quietly from beside him. He reached out, touched the door with his palm. "Dean was sixteen. This was the year you found out about the supernatural. Your father left you and Dean at a motel in Colorado for a week, supposedly. He was taking care of something simple, a Wendigo. He knew it'd be fast, and he owed a favor to a friend, another hunter, but it wasn't just one Wendigo as he expected. It caught him off guard and one week suddenly turned into three."
Sam stared at Cas, shocked. First it was the Texas memory. And now this. He saw the way Cas looked down. He looked sad, almost...guilty. Sam clenched his jaw, frustration mounting. "Have you been watching us our whole lives or something?"
"No," Cas said to the ground. He wouldn't look at Sam. Couldn't. He didn't elaborate either, though he didn't need to. Sam knew that look. He'd seen it in his reflection hundreds of times. Seen it on his brother far more times to count. Shame and guilt and a hint of desperation.
He balled his hands up, wanting nothing more than to shake the answers out of Cas right now. But they were on a mission and this was what Michael would want. As much as it pained Sam, he had to focus on the here and now. They had to find Dean and get the fuck out of here and laying into Cas might make him feel better for a short time but it wasn't going to help them to stop Michael. It would be too easy to blame everything on Cas though.
"You're going to tell us the truth when all this is over, Cas," Sam said, "but right now, we need to focus on saving my brother. Tell me what you know. Would Dean be in this memory?"
Cas sighed. "It's quite possible your brother would be here. This is...this isn't a very cheerful memory, and if Michael wanted to torture Dean, he would be having him live through his worst ones."
"Worst ones…" Sam murmured, tracing lightly over the wood. "Would Dean consider this one of his worst memories? Why not hell?"
"That could also be a possibility," Cas said, "but this one called out louder in particular."
Sam took a deep breath. "Okay then. I trust you, Cas. If you think this is our best chance in finding Dean, then we don't have a choice, do we? We have to go." He opened the door.
He took a stumbling step forward, and was met with hard concrete. The harsh ray of sunlight shining down on him. Sam looked around. He was standing just in front of Monroe High School. There were a bunch of teenagers milling around, bags or books in hand, some riding on bikes off school campus. Across the street, there was a middle school, where Sam remembered going to in 1995.
This was…
He turned around trying to find Cas but again there was no sign of the angel. "Cas! Cas, man, come on. Where the hell did you go?" He turned back around to see nothing changed. The middle school was still there across the street. A couple cars sped by. A teen pushed past him on their way to the school but Sam barely noticed. He had to find Cas and his brother.
Sam made his way up the steps of the building. It looked new and pretty with dark red brick walls, large double doors painted in white. If Cas hadn't said such ominous things about this memory, Sam wouldn't have thought any better about stepping foot in such a normal looking high school. But the thing was, something did happen here, to Dean, a long time ago when Sam was none the wiser.
When Sam opened the door, he wasn't quite sure what to expect, what to prepare to see. Maybe Dean hanging off a wall, looking haggard and tortured and broken, pleading Sam to rescue him, maybe an evil fire breathing dragon that looked ready to devour Sam, hell, maybe even Michael, smiling at him with too many white teeth to be sincere. It certainly wasn't the inside of a regular high school that he's seen at least a dozen times, white plain walls lined with rows of lockers, teens walking and chatting with friends, getting ready for class. He blinked, not sure how he was going to find his brother in the crowd.
The only good part of knowing you were in a memory, that whatever you saw wasn't actually real was the fact that no one seemed to pay you any attention. The memories of these people, these events, they also knew you weren't part of the story and so they didn't interact with you. It was great because Sam didn't have to waste his energy trying to apologize to every memory of a person he bumped into or had to push past as he searched the crowd for any tell sign of Dean. He checked every classroom he passed by, glad that all the doors seemed to be unlocked, although it didn't seem to do any good since most classrooms were empty anyways and a fleeting thought of how this seemed to be too easy entered his mind before he forcefully pushed it out.
Deep down he knew this could be a trick, that instead of his brother being trapped in here, Michael could have planted this as a trap for him and Cas. He didn't care though, he knew the risks. Dean was worth it, he'd always be worth it. He knew Dean didn't think he mattered, especially of late, but he couldn't be further from the truth. Dean mattered, he mattered more than he gave himself credit for. Sam always got angry when he thought of how his brother valued other people over himself. He knew he was a piss poor excuse for a younger brother, he never showed his appreciation for the way Dean would always protect him and sacrifice himself for the greater good. If they all made out of this alive, Sam was definitely going to show Dean how much he loved and appreciated him, even if it meant a forced vacation where all they did was try and find the best made burgers and pies in the states. He'd invite Jack and Cas to hang out with them too, show them how diverse human foods truly could be.
Sam blinked, having reached the end of the hall. There was one last classroom on his left that he hadn't checked out before he would have to make his way to the second floor. Small muffled noises stopped him in his tracks. He froze, his hand just hovering over the doorknob. Someone was in there. He found himself leaning in just a little, when he realized there was more than one person in the room and they were talking in hushed voices.
"You think you can just waltz in here like you own the place, huh, Winchester?"
Sam found his eyes widening at the name. Winchester. He forgot for a moment this was just a memory, that no one would care if he just barged in. He was still stuck on the fact that his brother was on the other side of this door. He couldn't get himself to move. Dean didn't say anything and after a moment of tense silence, something that sounded like a low thud flooded the room and then there was a gasp, and someone started to laugh.
"Come on, pretty boy, go ahead. Hit me back. I deserve it, right? Here. I'll even make it easy for you. Just lay one on me. Right here. I won't even move."
There was a long moment of silence, then another thud and gasp, but it didn't come from the kid who was just taunting his brother. Sam would recognize Dean's pained gasp anywhere. The other kids laughed, and there was another thud and Dean cried out in pain again and Sam had enough. He was seeing red, angry that anyone could be hurting his brother and getting off on it. He slammed the door open, ready to take out the jackasses messing with his brother.
"Get the fuck away from my brother!" he shouted, forgetting this was just a memory. He stomped over to the three boys hovering around something in the middle of the room. Sam saw red, knowing instantly that the thing the boys were kicking at on the ground was his brother. He pushed the teens out of the way.
Dean was curled in a ball on the floor at his feet. One eye was half shut from a bad looking bruise and his lips were split, a thin line of blood dribbling down his chin. His arm was crossed over his chest as if to protect it. For a second, Sam forgot this was just a memory of Dean, he reached out to touch his brother, worry creasing his brows as he looked him over. Oh crap, oh crap, he thought. "Dean?"
Unexpectedly, Dean turned to look up at him, bright green eyes staring him dead in the eyes. Sam nearly stumbled back, but Dean's hand shot out before he could do anything. Dean gripped the collar of Sam's shirt and pulled him forward, "Get out of here, Sam."
Before he could say anything, Dean pushed him back with an unexpected burst of strength and he found himself falling backwards. He tried to get up but a large hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and he found himself freezing, wondering how these memories could even touch him, but it was like the last memory he'd stumbled into, with little Dean leading him into a closet.
"No. Don't leave. You just got here. Why don't you stay and enjoy the show, Sammy?"
