THE STAGES OF GRIEF

Summary: Sam had someone to help him through the loss of Dean, someone who too had just lost a brother - Dean Winchester.

Notes: This story is in five parts, and takes place in the SPN world during season 3.

Stage I - Denial and/or Isolation
(a.k.a. Avoiding the Problem by Escaping to Another Reality)

'Colonel, are you sure you want to do this? I understand that you may be experiencing a rough time recently, with the loss of your brother.' General Hammond considered the young man in front of him, a touch of concern shining through.

Standing behind Hammond's desk, Colonel Winchester's reply was immediate. 'I'm fine, sir.'

'You better be. Make no mistake, it's not easy losing family, but I cannot afford to have you on the field leading a team unless you are 100% focused on the job.' He softened a little. 'Now son, I understand if you want to take some leave, there will be plenty of work for you when you get back.'

'General, with all due respect, I am fine. I mean, yeah, it's not easy losing family. But me and Sam didn't talk much...' He trailed off, the implication of those words flickering regret in his soul. But it was only brief as he clamped down on the emotional leak. He'd have time to contemplate it later. Squaring his shoulders, he continued, 'Besides, Doc already cleared me. And I want this mission, sir.'

Nodding, the General turned his attention to the file in front of him. 'Very well. I take it you have read your mission brief?'

'Yes sir, I have.'

'Good. You are to join Major Stanson on Sub-Level 19; he will ascertain whether or not you are able to lead the team through the,' he glanced down, 'Quantum Mirror, without experiencing,' another glance, 'Entropic Cascade Failure. If successful, you will lead the new SG-14, which is comprised of Major Stanson, Captain Gate and Sergeants Talley and Wills through the mirror to a reality which has...'

By now he was practically reading the file, so Dean decided to help him out. 'I think I can figure it out, sir.'

General Hammond looked up at Dean and smiled appreciatively. 'Very well. If all is successful, you have a go at 0900 hours tomorrow.'

Colonel Winchester gave a nod in salute before taking his leave. When he reached the door, Hammond added, 'Oh, and Colonel?' When he turned around, he continued. 'Good luck. If our past experiences with the mirror are anything to go by...'

'We're going to need it?' Dean smiled wryly as he let himself out.

.-.-.

The Quantum Mirror was housed in an adapted room on Sub-Level 19. The mirror itself was situated to the left, in a small alcove in the wall, encompassing three of its sides in nth-feet thick concrete. Opposite it was a makeshift defence; a sandbag wall wherein two officers currently stood guard, a standing machine gun beside both of them, pointed at the mirror.

In the middle of the room was a table, at which three men sat playing cards whilst one made notes on the small device that sat in front of him.

'Attention!'

SG-14 immediately halted in their game of cards and scrambled to fall in. That is, until they saw who had ordered them. In which case Stanson and Gate rolled their eyes and resumed their previous activities (research and dealing the next round respectively). Talley and Wills, having never served directly with Winchester before, remained standing with a slightly confused look on their faces.

'At ease.' He smiled good-naturedly at them and helped himself to the last available seat.

'Oh, please don't tell me we got saddled with your sorry ass again, Winchester.' Gate dealt him into the round, a teasing smirk on his face.

'I think you mean, 'Oh, thank God we got saddled with your beautiful ass again, Sir.' He picked up his cards. A four and a two, damnit.

'Actually, I don't think he did,' Stanson replied earnestly, looking up from his notes with a most thoughtful of expressions.

'You best keep to that research Stanson, you're lacking considerably in the modern communication department.' He nodded to the two who had yet to speak. 'Dean Winchester.'

'Sergeant Jake Talley.' They shook hands.

'Sergeant Domonic Wills.' More shaking.

'I take it you already know Bert and Paul?' They nodded. 'Good. So what exactly is this screening process that I have to be cleared for?'

Robert Gate threw in come chips. 'Oh, we gotta make sure you're dead.' When Dean stared at him, he added, 'Sir.'

Finding no help, he turned to Stanson, who explained. 'Each reality can only have one physical manifestation of each subconscious entity at a given time, otherwise entropic cascade failure occurs in attempt to rectify the situation; effectively removing the doppelganger from existence.'

Dean folded and sent a glare his way. 'Pauuul...'

'Only one you per reality. More than one and the universe tries to get rid of you. Apparently it's painful.'

The look Winchester shot Stanson was very communicative, Now, how hard was that? Really?

Stanson smiled smugly for a second before continuing. 'We need to make sure that the Dean Winchester in the reality we've been assigned to travel to has already died, otherwise you can't come.'

'And we do that how?'

He nodded over his shoulder. 'Well, we already have reports of such, but to be sure you have to go through the mirror and wait. If you start flickering out of existence, then I guess it means no.'

Winchester followed Stanson's gesture to see that the room reflected through the mirror wasn't the same as the one he was currently in. It was slightly larger, and definitely not military. In fact, it looked like an elderly lady's living room. Soft coloured walls, flower-patterned couches and a bowl of plastic fruit on a hand-crafted coffee table. Winchester raised his eyebrows.

Gate followed his train of thought. 'Yeah, it was originally in the old lady's shed - don't ask me how it got there - but she agreed to move it and help us out.'

'Hunh. What's her name?'

'Catherine Langford.'

He'd heard the name before. Oh right, the woman who helped get the program started. 'So, I just sit there and have tea with an old lady until I die?'

Wills snickered at his commanding officer's choice of phrase. 'In so many words.'

'Right.'

There was a silence. Stanson noticed his hesitation and supplied. 'You have to touch the mirror.'

'Right.' Taking a breath, Colonel Winchester approached the mirror, as his team watched in anticipation.

When he was a foot away, he surveyed the extra perspective he could see from his new vantage point before knocking the mirror with two of his fingers. In a blink he was suddenly on the other side staring at his team, who were avidly awaiting his reaction. Fully satisfied with ruining their expectations, he merely shrugged and turned around. And blanched when he noticed a woman had appeared in the doorway, tray in hand.

He had his gun pulled on her before he registered the conversation he had less than a minute ago. 'Miss Langford?' When she nodded, he sheepishly lowered his weapon. A glimpse in the mirror showed his team in pieces. He smiled politely at Catherine. 'Dean Winchester, ma'am.'

She didn't seem offended by the possible threat to her life. Taking it all in stride she smiled back. 'I know.'

'Would you excuse me a minute?' At her consent he leaned back into the mirror so that when he switched he was facing his team, eyebrow raised.

Crossing back was like flipping the mute switch. He could hear the laughter rumbling across the room and he let them get it out of their systems. 'Having fun?'

'Yes Colonel Winchester,' the inflection suggested that Gate was addressing his pre-school teacher.

Dean turned back. 'I'll remember this, you know.'

They could see his mouth moving through the mirror, but couldn't hear the words. Though they still managed to figure out the gist without the aid of a nuclear physicist. Stanson and Gate mocked deafness and Dean slowly presented his most favoured of fingers.

Until he realised that Catherine was still watching the exchange and froze. She laughed.

'It's quite alright, I've since grown accustomed to the military camaraderie that you share.' She set the tray down. 'I just finished boiling a pot of tea when you arrived; you have quite the impeccable timing.'

He eyed the tea warily. Then the men who had not-so subtly tried to cover their snickers. And finally Catherine herself. 'That's... great.'

She smiled as though she understood completely 'However if you would prefer something else, I could perhaps scrounge up a beer?'

Oh, God yes. 'No drinking on the job, ma'am.'

'Of course.' When she noticed him contemplating the mirror again she added. 'If it were to be turned off, they wouldn't know whether or not you're experiencing entropic cascade failure. It would also take quite a long time to locate the same reality again.'

'So you're saying this thing goes to more than one reality?'

'Oh yes.'

'Oh, great.' He finally sat down on the couch, the plush cushioning threatening to envelop him in embroidered flowers. He looked around again, no more conversation at hand, and began to thock his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

Catherine, ever so observant, started to back out of the room. 'Unfortunately entertaining inter-realitial guests doesn't mean that the chores will do themselves. If you'll excuse me.'

He smiled gratefully as she left, the room lapsing into silence again.

Thock.

Fireplace, ornaments, an old-fashioned clock.

Thock.

Intricate wooden panelling along the entryways.

Thock.

A decorated porcelain lamp atop an antique wall-table.

Thock.

And a mirror to alternate realities resting at the end of the lounge. Yep, the typical home.

He noticed that the men had resumed playing cards and he felt rather left out. Reaching a decision, he walked back into the mirror, remembering to spin as he reached it so that he was facing away from it when he went through.

Not breaking stride, he walked up to the table, and flicked Stanson in the ear. The Major looked up from his notes.

'How long do I wait?'

'It's hard to say. We can't tell if you keep switching back and forth. Though, we should know within a few hours.'

He looked to the others. 'And you've all been cleared?'

At their nods he turned around to make another trip through the mirror. 'Good, pack up the cards and get over here.'

There was a naive mischief to Gate's voice when he replied. 'Oh, I don't think I should sir. My knee's been playing up on me again.'

'That's an order, Captain.'

Gate scoffed and Dean simply smiled.

When he spun around to cross over, Dean (still smiling), held up the deck of cards minus those in the players' hands. When he switched through, he resumed his earlier spot and cleared the coffee table. The others sighed and started to pack up their chips and join him. Stanson was the last; a flurry of paper as he approached the mirror. His eyes caught Winchester's, who slowly shook his head 'no', before sighing and dumping them back on the table. He did however grab the remote before following the others through.

Stage I/A - Leaving the Second Reality for a Third

'Major, get that mirror working!'

'Easier said than done Colonel!'

Ducking a staff blast, Sergeants Wills and Talley managed to close the door and barricade themselves against it.

'Any time now!' Talley called, his back pressed against the door in desperation. Their plan to stall wasn't going to hold long.

'Not helping!' Major Paul Stanson replied, his hands frantically twitching on the remote he held, causing the quantum mirror to shift realities sporadically.

It stopped on a dark unknown, with only a slither of the faintest light along the left-hand side which didn't provide any details of the world it contained. It was at this point that the door started to buckle.

Reaching a decision, the Colonel grabbed Stanson and shoved him into the mirror. His appearance on the other side caused him to stumble on the unknown before landing on the ground. The dimmed light was now across the room contained in the mirror, but still not enough to determine a location.

Without waiting for confirmation of a secure location, Winchester nodded to the two other members in his unit, covering them as they abandoned the buckling door and ran into the mirror. Rightfully so, as a second later the door burst open, revealing the Jaffa Teal'c holding a staff weapon in his hands.

Both sides wasted no time in firing and Teal'c went down, a bullet right between the eyes. But not before getting off his own shot that found its mark in Wills' lumbar. The force of the blast propelled him into the mirror, and Talley and Winchester wasted no time following him through.

When they appeared on the other side, a regiment of Jaffa entered their previous room intent on completing the work that their fallen leader had started. With an angry shout that they couldn't hear, they raised their weapons and fired at the mirror. The connection cut out.

Darkness reigned when the connection was lost. Stanson managed to click his flashlight on and each of them cast their eyes down at their comrade-in-arms.

When Wills gasped, they were jolted into action. Major Stanson knelt down beside him, with the Colonel looking on. A quick survey had Stanson saying everything with his eyes. He was fucked.

It didn't help when Wills managed to gasp out, 'Colonel, I can't feel my legs.'

'You're gonna be alright Wills, just hang in there.' Pulling out his own flashlight, Colonel Winchester nodded to Talley, and they both looked around the room while Stanson tended to Wills. It resembled a warehouse - possibly a storage locker. Though some of the things stored rose questions;

A series of boxes, different shapes and sizes with indecipherable symbols etched onto them were in their immediate vicinity. In fact, the mirror they had arrived through was still half-encased in one such box; a smattering of crystals decorated the ground around it. Across the far wall was an armoury of sorts, with weapons ranging from a handgun to a rifle to land mines. To their left was a cage door, which they apparently were in. And when they exited into the main part of the locker, the objects seemed more random; an assortment of items on a table, files haphazardly stacked on top of filing cabinets, knick-knacks and trinkets strewn here and there.

Something shiny and noticeably less dust-ridden drew Winchester's attention and he moved over. He picked it up.

A... soccer trophy?

Dismissing how out of place it was, he quickly surmised one important piece of information. 'We're still on Earth.'

'No signs of Goa'uld invasion.' Talley confirmed as he moved over to the only door in the room. 'Just a lot of freaky occult shit.' When he crossed over a sigil on the floor, a triggering was heard and the next thing they knew, he had a bullet hole in his shoulder.

The sound drew the others' attention and Stanson moved to help, having already propped a support under the barely-conscious Wills' head. Winchester held up a signal to stop, and checked for the source of the gunshot. He trailed the wire by Talley's feet to a shotgun directed at the doorway and managed to disable it before returning to Stanson and Talley.

'How's Wills?'

'He's still with us - barely,' Stanson replied, helping bind the wound and sling up Talley's arm. His southern accent started to slip through as it often did when he was uncomfortable. 'But he ain't gonna be floatin' like a butterfly no more, you get my meanin'.'

A pained voice called across the room 'Can still sting your ass like a bee.'

This brought a much needed reprieve as they all snickered before looking to Talley. 'I've had worse,' he replied, making sure his arm was secure before slowly standing. After a few jokes were made about lobbing the sick people off together, Talley kept Wills company while Stanson and Winchester pried open the door.

As they made their way down the warehouse corridor, Stanson cleared his throat. His accent came through strong this time, 'Colonel, we're up a mighty unfashionable creek.'

'Don't worry about it Stanson, we'll get patched up and then you can fiddle around with that mirror to your heart's content as long as it gets us back to SGC.'

'S'kinda why we're royally fucked, sir.'

Their progress was halted when Winchester stopped to look at Stanson, who held out the remains of the quantum mirror's controller. It was at this point he realised the significance of the shattered crystals on the ground when he'd come through.

Running a hand across his face, he sighed. 'Damnit Paul, can't you ever give me good news?'

'Chiefs beat the Redskins?'

'Thank God! Now first things first: we get Talley and Wills sorted and then work on how screwed we are.'

Stanson nodded. 'Sounds like a plan.'

They looked down the empty corridor. 'Stanson, you have no idea what a plan sounds like, do you?'

Taking the barb, he smirked. 'Chiefs got reamed.'

Dean smiled as they resumed walking. 'Bitch.'

'Sanders.' Stanson nodded to the phone hanging on the wall.

'Major,' Winchester retorted, the tone indicating that it was to be added as the title of the previous insult.

'Colonel,' Stanson replied, matching him rank for rank, tone for tone.

Dean snickered as he picked it up and was thankfully met with a dial tone.

.-.-.

'Hello, is this Edgar Casey?'

Bobby looked towards the stairs and took a gamble. 'Uhh, yeah.'

'This is Dave Teak from Black Rock Storage. I'm afraid someone has broken into your locker again.'

'Again?'

'Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Look, I didn't call the police, because I remember you took care of it yourself last time.'

'Right. Thanks.' Bobby flipped the phone shut and headed back upstairs to a door that had been closed for the past three days. Knowing the reaction, he didn't bother to knock. 'Sam-'

Facing the far wall, Sam didn't turn to acknowledge him. 'Not right now, Bobby.'

'Damnit Sam,' Bobby barged in. When he had rounded the bed, he saw that Sam was staring at a photo. Bobby let his train of thought leave the station when he glimpsed the person in said photo. It was Dean.

He was standing in front of the Impala, looking about eight years younger and irritated. One hand was on the door handle; he was obviously about to enter when something called him back. His features were creased in a frown, the way Dean did when he was unhappy with the situation.

Soundlessly, Sam handed the photo over. When Bobby looked on the back, there were three words written in a scrawl;

'Take care, Sammy.'

I'd just had told Dad I was going to college.' Sam sniffed. 'We had a fight. He said not to come back.

'Dean was waiting by the car. He drove me 400 miles to Stanford. He wasn't happy about it, but he did it anyway.' He swallowed. 'I took that picture after he dropped me off. It didn't matter that he wasn't smiling, I just...

'When things got tough, I'd look at that and know that he'd come if I needed him, y'know? That no matter what time or reason, there'd be someone who'd come.'

When he reached the end, Sam finally looked up. Amid the tears and red-rimmed eyes, Bobby could see the desperation shining through; hoping that he'd understand. And he did. He's my brother, and he's gone.

Bobby sighed. 'Aww hell Sam. You don't think I'm sad that he's gone too? 'Course I am. You two are the only family I got. But I can tell you that Dean wouldn't want you mopin' around up here. He'd want you out livin' your life.' However, even Bobby realised that Sam merely forgetting his brother and returning to college seemed on the other side of impossible. So he compromised, 'Hell, at least doin' something instead of turnin' my room into an angst-hole.'

Sam smiled faintly. 'Yeah Bobby? Like what?'

'Well for starters you can do something about that storage unit of yer father's. Seems it got broken into again. Now, you and I are goin' down there and movin' all those curse boxes outta there 'fore someone gets ahold of something a whole lot worse than a rabbit's foot.'

'You don't need to come along Bobby, I can handle this myself.' He made his way over to his bag, ensuring it was still packed.

'The hell you don't,' Bobby scoffed. 'I'm comin', and it ain't just 'cause I'm concerned about ya. Last time you rushed in and almost got yourself dead. You pull that again and it means I'll have to come and finish toting all those boxes on my own. Thanks but no thanks, I'm coming with.' He turned to leave, satisfied that Sam was doing something productive. 'And don't be takin' forever to pack all your beloveds. I'm not expecting to be there longer'n a day.'

With that, Sam dropped the shirt he'd picked up off the bed right back where he found it and followed Bobby out of the room.

Stage I/B - Realising You Can't Run Far Enough

Wills didn't make it to the hospital.

When Winchester and Stanson pulled up in the taxi that had driven them to St. Joseph's, they were greeted with a sullen-faced Talley who passed on the news.

Needing some time to regroup, Colonel Winchester sent Stanson to accompany Talley into hospital to get his shoulder stitched whilst he found a phone booth and tried again to make the second call he had at the storage unit, but with different results.

'I'm sorry, but the number you have dialled is unavailable at this point in time. If you-'

No such luck.

Sighing, Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried another number. (It started with a P and had something to do with five-sided polygons.) After half an hour of run-arounds and repeating his name, rank and serial number he found out that he never was, and not looking to ever be, enlisted in the armed forces. He was about to be laughed off as a crazy until one of the people he was diverted to decided to run a check on him.

It was the slightly panicked way in which the paper-pusher on the other end gasped 'Oh, shit!' That prompted Dean to hang up.

When the phone was a mere centimetre from the cradle, he reconsidered. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. Besides, he was kinda curious to know what kind of awesome he was in this reality to evoke such a response. He was fairly certain that it would be that he was dead and hence calling from beyond the grave, but he had to be sure.

With the phone back against his ear, he could hear some frantic shuffling and a distant voice ordering to 'keep him on the line!'

'Uhh, Mister Winchester?' There was a definite nervousness to the tone.

Dean sighed again. 'Look kid, put someone else on, would ya?'

Immediately the phone changed hands and Dean surmised that they were listening in. That wasn't good. He could only think of one reason why everyone would listen in and hop-to like that, and from the tremor in the other man's voice he doubted that it was because he was a famous actor or something.

He hung up just as a gravelled voice called his name.

.-.-.

When he joined the others, they correctly interpreted the look on his face.

'No luck reaching the SGC?'

'It doesn't even exist,' he replied. 'Or, it's got a different number in this 'verse. Oh, and we've got to be careful - I might be a fugitive,' he added casually.

He turned away and started walking back to Black Rock, leaving two baffled soldiers with raised eyebrows in his wake.

'A fugitive?' Talley echoed, struggling to catch up with his arm in a sling.

'You? Never.' A suspicious person might think Stanson was being sarcastic. So would an observant one.

Winchester just clipped him on the head and kept walking.

'Uhh, Colonel? Where are we going?'

'Back to that locker so Stanson can get that mirror fixed and get us the hell outta here.'

Stanson interjected. 'I already said, without the remote, we're fubared.'

'Look, this universe-'

'Reality,' Stanson corrected.

'Whatever,' Dean growled. 'Point is, it must have its own remote, right? That mirror's the only lead we've got to finding it right now.'

'Yeah, but we're not walking, right?' When Winchester stopped and stared incredulous, Stanson finished somewhat childishly, 'It's thirty miles away.'

Talley, who remained silent throughout the exchange, shared a look with Winchester that may have had something to do with marines and the air force.

'Plus, you did want a low profile, and this is kinda conspicuous.' He gestured to their fatigues which were gathering curious looks from passers-by.

'What exactly do you suggest then, Stanson? Like I said, we can't exactly call a cab.' Dean raised an eyebrow.

As Paul stopped to consider this, it was Talley that answered,

'Well, if you're already a fugitive...' He trailed off, and they followed his gaze to a car parked on the street.

Dean turned his incredulous look onto Jake, who merely shrugged.

Their silent banter was interrupted by a gasp from Paul, who had doubled over and was clutching his stomach. People stopped to stare as he flickered in and out of existence.

When the ECF attack passed, he straightened and looked Dean in the eye. 'Colonel, I suggest we hurry.'

.-.-.

CLANG!

Dean moved the bolt-cutters he'd found out of the way as Stanson removed the lock on one of the chests with obscure symbols etched all over it.

The lid peeled back to reveal a diadem resting on a statue of a limbless man whose mouth was open; screaming in silent agony. The men cocked their heads to the side in scrutiny.

'Nope,' Dean announced, and moved to the next as Talley shoved the opened one away with his feet.

The next box was more of a case, and had a child-sized marionette in it. The third was a supply container, and for all its size seemed to contain was another, smaller box. Inside that was a snow globe.

It was when they had gathered around the fourth that they heard a gun cock.

'Now, you boys step away from the box all calm-like and I won't be splattering any of you on the walls.'

They turned as one to find a bearded man in a cap. His face slackened for the briefest of seconds before he glared, the whole time his eyes were on Dean. A second later another figure entered the room, only to come to a grinding halt.

In the dim light both brother's Winchester stared at their supposedly dead sibling in surprise.

'Dean?' 'Sam?'

End Part I.