Author's Note: The response has been overhwelming and I have all of you to thank for that. Seriously, you guys made this girl's heart soar with the warm response you sent my way. It is words like that that help me to continue to write. And as a reward, I am giving you this chapter a few days early, so ENJOY!
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Sam Winchester was dreaming.
It was the only plausible explanation he could come up with. How else could he explain the fact he was standing in the middle of a desolate street dressed in nothing but gray sweatpants and a navy T-shirt, with no shoes on his feet? What amused him most about it was he wasn't even cold, not even when it was clearly evident that the temperature was around the freezing mark. He could clearly see his breath as billowing clouds in front of his face and the sheets of frosty white that blanketed everything in sight.
But Sam Winchester was not cold. If anything, warmth surrounded every inch of his tired body.
Streetlights illuminated the sidewalks, bathing them in a faint pale orange glow. There was not a single soul evident on the streets, even though from the looks of things, the streets should be bustling. The streetlights were making the surroundings look ethereal in presence and it was a feeling that was almost calming and serene to the young hunter—almost. But there was something, or rather, someone that was missing and it left Sam with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Hello?" Sam called, his loud voice startling him. "Anybody out here?"
Sam's hazel eyes darted all around, searching for any sign of another living creature. He needed for someone, anyone to answer him, to assure him that he wasn't alone. It was a feeling that he had never liked even as a kid.
"Hello?" He yelled again, louder still. But silence greeted him once again.
Dean, he thought frantically. Dean had to be here. There's no way he would leave me alone like this…
"Dean! Dean, where are you?"
Sam began to jog down the street, his eyes alert for any sign of movement. He didn't even feel the snow beneath his feet. It wasn't as if he could feel it anyway, not even if he tried. But it didn't matter anyhow—he had to find Dean and now.
"If this is some kind of joke, Dean, it stopped being funny two minutes ago!" Sam called out in frustration.
He looked between every alleyway and though every shop window searching for any sign of his older sibling. His breathing was labored and he could feel his panic level rising when he finally saw it—Dean's beloved '67 black Chevy Impala. He bolted for it, his feet slipping on the ice, but he didn't care. Dean had to be there—there was no way he would have left the car, not voluntarily anyway.
He stopped by the car, pulling frantically at the handle. Not wasting any time, he darted his head in, but there was so sign of his brother. Sam pushed away from the car angrily and screamed in pure frustration. "DEAN!"
He remained where he was for a full minute, looking everywhere for his brother. Finally unable to take it anymore, he dropped to his knees, the cold, wet road soaking through his pants. But he didn't care; nothing mattered if he couldn't find Dean.
"Dean," he whispered.
"He's not here, Sammy," a soft feminine voice said.
Sam froze. He knew that voice and for a brief second, he could feel his heart cease its beating. Recovering, he slowly turned his head around and felt tears spring in his eyes. She was sitting on the hood of the Impala, her soft blonde hair flowing behind her in the gentle breeze. Sam knew that voice and that face and it made his heart soar and ache all at once.
"Mom?" he asked softly, not really believing what his eyes were showing him.
She smiled softly as she stood up and walked towards him, her white nightgown swaying at her feet. Sam wanted to get up and greet her, but for some reason his legs were choosing that very moment not to respond to him. He looked up, transfixed, as his beautiful mother came to a stop in front of him, offering her hand.
Sam stared at the hand, confused. Part of him was screaming to reach out and take the proffered hand, but the logical voice in his head was telling him that this couldn't be real, there was no way his mother could be standing in front of him at that very moment.
"It's okay, Sammy," she said, thrusting her hand towards him even further.
Sam shook his head slowly still not trusting what was in front of his eyes. This couldn't be real. There was no way she could be standing here right now. The last time he had seen her was in Lawrence at their old family home, but she had sacrificed her spirit in order to save him from the poltergeist. So the only explanation that his confused mind could offer him was he was dead.
Mary Winchester shook her head, her smile never wavering. "You're not dead, Sam."
"Then, how—" Sam began, looking up at her.
"Come with me," she said. "I want to show you something."
Sam glanced back down at the hand, his brows furrowed in confusion. He wasn't sure what he should trust, his thoughts right then in a constant battle with each other. Finally, he placed his big hand into her small one and she pulled him effortlessly to his feet.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, his voice seeming to echo in the silence that surrounded him.
Mary just glanced up at her youngest son and continued to lead him down the deserted street. Sam just shrugged, giving up trying to converse with her since it was clearly evident she wasn't going to provide him with the answers he needed right then. Soon, they came to a stop in front of the automatic doors of Memphis General Hospital, a tall modern building rising up nearly ten stories. They slowly walked into the bustling hospital, Sam noticing that the doctors, nurses, and patients seemed completely oblivious o their newest guests. Not that he was expecting a sudden swelling of music announcing their arrival…
But the fact that no one looked up as they entered confused him to no end. After all, he wasn't someone who was completely hard to miss, considering he probably towered over nearly every person in the building.
Sam glanced around at all of the people, searching for any sign of his older brother. "Is Dean here?"
Mary nodded. "He's upstairs," she said as she led the way to the stairs.
Sam felt fear and panic seize him. "Upstairs? Did something happen to him? Is he okay?"
"Dean's fine, Sam," Mary said softly. Sam looked at her uncertainly as he climbed the few flights of stairs behind her. She turned as if she could sense his uneasiness and smiled reassuringly at him. "Come on, I'll show you."
Sam nodded weakly. Why in the world would Dean be upstairs if he was okay? What the hell is going on here?
Mary pushed through a heavy metal door and Sam was instantly greeted with the smell of antiseptic. He followed Mary down a long corridor, fascinated with the nurses and doctors who were milling about, checking on patients and going over charts. He was so engrossed in what was going on around him that he didn't even notice Mary had stopped until he bumped into her. He watched as she gazed into the room sadly and she then looked back at him.
"What is it?" he asked.
She stepped back from the doorway to allow her son passage. Fearful of what he might find inside the room, Sam entered slowly and he instantly felt as if his heart caught in his chest. Someone was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair, his back facing Sam. Even seated like that, Sam instantly recognized who was sitting in that chair.
"Dean!" He rushed to his brother's side, grateful and relieved to see his brother seated there. Now everything would be better—Dean was there, his big brother. Dean could tell him what was happening. Dean could fix everything and reassure him everything was okay, that he was just dreaming that his mother was there with him.
But Dean didn't even flinch at the sound of his baby brother's voice.
Sam waved his hand in front of Dean's face. "Earth to Dean," he said. "Quit screwing around; I know you can hear me."
Dean remained as stoic as ever, his gaze never leaving the prone figure that was occupying the lone bed in the room. Sam furrowed his brows and finally turned to see what it was that held Dean's focused attention.
Sam stumbled back. What the hell was going on here? How could he be lying in that bed when he was clearly standing not two feet away from his older sibling? He felt the panic rising inside of him once again as his brown eyes went back and forth between Dean and his own body lying as still as death on the bed.
"Dean, come on, man, you have to talk to me here. I'm standing right here, right in front of you," Sam pleaded. "Please, say something, anything to me."
"He can't hear you, Sam."
Sam turned, startled, to see Mary was sitting in a chair beside the window. He didn't know how it was possible, but for a moment, he'd forgotten that she was even in the room with him. "Why not?" he asked. "What happened to me?"
"You were involved in an accident not too long ago," Mary calmly explained. "You just haven't woken up yet."
Sam reluctantly walked away from his brother, desperately needing answers from his mother. "Why is this happening? How is it that I can see you? Am I dreaming? Dying?"
Mary smiled her serene smile once again. "I'm here to help you, Sam, to guide you."
Sam shook his head, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes. "Guide me where?"
"On a journey."
"Journey? I don't understand. What kind of journey?"
"Before the accident, you had a fight with your brother," Mary explained. "Do you remember what it was about?"
Sam turned away, once again looking at Dean who was still holding a silent vigil by his bedside. "I made a mistake and Dean got hurt because of it," he murmured. "I told him it would be better if he hunted without me."
Mary gazed silently at her youngest child. "Did you really mean that, Sammy?"
Sam hesitated and then nodded ever so slightly. "I think I did," he admitted after a few moments. "Dean's right—I make mistakes and he shouldn't have to continuously pay for them."
"You were right, too, Sam." Mary rose from her chair to stand behind her son. "We all make mistakes. It's what makes us human."
"But Dean always gets hurt because of my mistakes. He has since we were kids." He tore his gaze away from Dean to look at Mary. "I can't keep doing this to him. I can't keep watching him get hurt because of me."
"He's not getting hurt because of you, Sam," Mary argued. "He's getting hurt because he's protecting you."
"That makes me feel so much better," he muttered walking away to stand next to the window. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. "I can't keep letting him do that for me."
Mary walked up behind Sam and put her hands on his shoulders. "Your brother will do it, regardless. You of all people should know that, Sam. When it comes to you, he doesn't see anything else. He only knows of one thing and that's to protect you with all he's got. He's been that way since the day you were born and telling him to stop would be like telling him not to breathe anymore."
Sam kept his gaze out the window, considering what his mother was telling him. He knew she was right about Dean. Dean had always been looking out for him since day one, not once hesitating or complaining. He had taken the role of Protector the day their mother had died in that fire all those years ago and he refused to relinquish that title to anyone—not even to their father. Sam was Dean's responsibility and there just was no other way around it. It was a job that his older brother didn't take lightly and it was a job he would hold until the day he died.
"I can't keep leaving him with that burden," Sam finally answered. "It's not fair to him. Dean deserves to have so much more."
Before Mary could reply, Sam heard another sound that made him jump. Dean was starting to speak softly in a voice that sounded foreign to the young hunter's ears. It was a voice that sounded afraid, hesitant, defeated, not confident and strong like it usually was. Sam slowly made his way to kneel in front of Dean so he could hear what he was saying.
"Sam, I need you to wake up, man," Dean was saying. "I can't do this alone; I need you here. I'm sorry I was such an ass back at the motel. You know how I get sometimes—I don't think before I open my mouth—I never have."
Dean glanced down at the hand he held firmly in his own, waiting from some sort of activity from his baby brother, but none came. Sam stood up and stepped away as he heard Dean say, "It's okay, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay."
"You see, Sam, you're brother doesn't want anything else," Mary spoke up. "He doesn't need anything else. As long as he has you to watch out for, he's happy."
Sam was shaking his head, not wanting to listen. He wanted Dean to have so much more than his personal crusade to protect him from the darkness of the world. Dean always gave everything he had and for once, Sam wanted him to be rewarded for it. "I just can't do it anymore," he said softly.
Mary looked at her son, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, Sam?"
Sam shrugged sadly. "I don't know."
Mary sighed and turned Sam to face her. "You keep saying you want Dean to be happy and you refuse to believe what I'm telling you about your brother. Do you remember me telling you about a journey?"
Sam nodded.
"As your guide, I can take you on a journey." Mary put her hands on Sam's arms. "I can show you three stages—the past, the present, and the future."
"Why does that sound like something from A Christmas Carol?" Sam asked, eyes narrowing.
Mary chuckled. "I guess you can say it is," she admitted.
"What would you show me?"
"I will be the guide on your first path. I'll show you how having you here with Dean has helped shape him into the man he is today. I can also show you what would have happened if you hadn't survived the fire all those years ago," Mary explained.
"What are the other two paths?" Sam inquired.
Mary shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't let you in on those. You will have two other additional guides—your present and your future."
Sam looked back to where he was laying in the hospital bed. "What will happen to me?" he asked his voice barely above a whisper.
"You will remain asleep for the entire journey," Mary answered. "At the end, it is entirely up to you which path you choose. If you see that Dean is better off without you, then you will be allowed to go peacefully. But if you decide to remain with your brother, you will wake up as if out of a deep sleep and things will get back to normal."
Sam chuckled ruefully. "Things will never be back to normal, not for us."
Mary shrugged. "As normal as it can be for the two of you, then."
Sam glanced over at his brother, who was now resting his head on the bed and nodded. "I want to do it. I need to know."
Mary held out her hand. "Then let's begin," she said her voice soft, lulling. "Close your eyes and take my hand, Sammy."
Another update soon!