Rest never came for Sam. Not the true, real sleep he experienced in his life when Dean was alive, the kind that you awoke from feeling refreshed and alive. His thoughts never stopped to allow him to slumber, the memories and scrabbled messages running rampant in his mind like wild beasts that tore relentlessly at his soul.
Even when the drugs forced him into unconsciousness his thoughts remained, the memories feeling more real then the world that now surrounded him. If only he could bury himself completely in that place, then this wretched world would all just disappear…
He heard the drone of a voice, the words like an annoying buzz of a bee in his ear as he tried to slip back to a place where it was just Dean and him. It was harder today though, because thoughts of the vision kept slipping into his memory, pulling him from it until he was forced to think about it again.
Why didn't it feel familiar? What was it? What had killed that poor guy? He tried to shake the thoughts away, but he found it impossible to try block out the annoying voice.
The voice was familiar, so were the curious and questioning thoughts, recognizable like the visions of the girl with the razor and of the mirror and the girl that crawled out.
He refused to listen to the voice that tried beckoning him back to this place in his mind, it was desperate to be alive once again but was tucked deep away, almost unreachable. It was a part of himself he never wanted back, never wished to return to or become once again.
With that thought in mind he clamped his eyes shut and concentrated hard on the memory of Dean and him, ignoring the voice that screamed at him to listen.
The memory started to fade in as he saw Dean's eight year old face, shining and young, full of mischief and curiosity…
Sam sat watching "The Lion King", tears streaming down his face as he watched Simba's father fall to his death. He let out a tiny sob as Simba tugged gently on his father ear, trying to raise the great lion once again, unknowing that he would never again run upon savannah with his son.
Dean came in and found his little brother crying before the television, tears streaking down his chubby cheeks as he meekly sniffled.
"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean asked with true concern as he sat beside his younger sibling and wrapped his arm around the small boy.
"Simba's daddy is…is dead! I don't ev…ever want our daddy to die!" Sam said, burrowing his face into Dean's side.
"Oh, Sammy you don't have to worry about that for a very, very long time, okay?" Dean said with a smile as he tried to cheer up his brother.
"Bu…but Simba's daddy died for him…and now he feels all bad, what if that happened to us?" Sam looked up at his brother, eyes swimming with worry.
"What if daddy died for us? Sammy, daddies are made to give anything for their kids, it's just how they are, that's why Simba's daddy put himself in danger to save his son. But you can't worry about things like that; besides, you got me to watch out for ya!" Dean grinned, proud of his wise words that seemed to calm Sam's worried face until he let out another whimper of fear.
"I don't want you to die for me, Dean, I don't ever want you to leave me!" Sam shook his head, the tears returning as he thought of his older brother being gone.
"Oh Sammy, I didn't mean it like that! I'm just saying, as your big brother it's my job to watch over you know matter what happens, and I'd even die for ya kiddo." Dean ruffled his brother's long hair, receiving a small smile from the child.
"But you're not going to, right?" Sam said with concerned eyes.
"Not anytime soon, Sammy. Now come on, how bout let's…"
The memory was suddenly interrupted as another vision slammed into his mind, startling Sam and throwing his frail frame to the cold, hard floor.
A man was holding him against the wall, icy, dead hands pressed against his skin as he felt electric shocks shoot through him as the man spoke.
The vision was familiar was again and it gnawed relentlessly at Sam, making him cringe in pain and misery.
One eye was missing, black, rotting flesh mingled with old blood that seeped from the hole. The other was grey and blank; it watched him with a dead and hollowed expression. His skin was stark white, puffy and swollen in some spots where decay swarmed and sunk in others where rot had eaten away precious muscle and bone. His hair was white and sparse, frizzed with bugs crawling through it. They scuttled quickly in and out of holes in the mans head, brain and bone eaten through long ago.
"I want to help you…"
Sam jolted from the vision, a doctor quickly pressing his hands firmly down on his chest. He struggled against the pressure, afraid it may bring back that man, that man that was once again oh so familiar.
"Sam, calm down. I want to help you."
The echoing words sent Sam into even more of a frenzy, opening his eyes he saw the dead man's face before him now, same dead eye staring down at him. He tried desperately to squirm away, the cold from the dead man's hands sinking into his clothes, chilling him to the spine.
For the first time since he had gotten to this place he screamed. The cries of despair echoed through the vacant halls, making whoever heard stop and for a brief moment wonder what could cause such pain.
The shouts died away as the familiar prick of a needle sank into his flesh and he felt unconsciousness pulling him down. He feared it though, and dreaded what vision would torture him next.
His terror was granted as another vision came, this time all familiarity, just like the one about the man being clawed apart.
He saw a woman stepping out of her car, her outfit was pure white scrubs and a identification card hung loosely around her neck. Sighing she began to walk toward a large brick building of apartments when a sound made her stop and look around with the slightest hint of fear in her eyes.
She shook her head, laughing at herself just as something pulled her into the shadows, her screams ripped through the night but were silenced moments later. Blood slowly streamed from the shadows, crawling across the pavements leisurely and shining softly in the yellowed street light above.
Darkness swarmed once again and Sam found he was conscious, but his eyes were too heavy to open. He tried to move but found his limbs bound by the straight jacket, like the one he'd woken up in when he got here.
He didn't struggle though, instead he just laid there and tried to sink away; if he could go under then these visions would let him be. His thoughts came and went, odd ones of M&Ms, some of black eyes and others of a shining black car.
He didn't know how much time had passed, he never did really. He heard the door screech open, he tried to open his eyes and saw through only a small slit, the sight blurred and distorted.
"Did you hear about Carol?" A male's voice spoke as Sam was roughly pulled from the floor.
"Nah, what happened, the girl get herself a bad boyfriend again?" Another male voice said, chuckling at his own humor.
"No, dude, she's dead. Found her body brutally murdered last night." Spoke the other voice, surprise in his tone.
"Oh man, that sucks…she was kinda hot." The other said, his hands prying Sam's jaw open as the other shoved pills roughly in.
"Come on Wimpy Winchester, take your friggin' pills." The same voice that had just spoken complained, annoyed by Sam's gagging and spitting.
Sam swallowed them, that familiar voice wanting desperately to kick the guy's ass, screaming to get up and fight, but Sam refused to do it. What was the purpose? There was none.
Sam was dropped to the floor, already forgotten before they shut the door. He crawled back to his corner, resting his head on its wall as he tried to let the memories come. He stared blankly, eyes unmoving and glazed over as images of his past childhood shuffled randomly through his vacant mind.
The images were interrupted as another vision forced itself into his head, the ever so slightest hint of anger coming to mind as he got annoyed by yet another invasion of his mind.
He saw a small blonde woman, her eyes black as she licked her lips and watched him from a chair of which she was bound to. She laughed as words Sam knew so well were read, until twitches and jutted movement made her stop and give him a desperate look.
The vision ended quickly, the face of the petite girl with short blonde hair and black eyes burning in his mind as he once again found himself staring at the white wall.
He was almost tempted to reach in the back of his mind for that voice, that familiar voice to ask who she was but instead he quickly pushed it away. He sat and tried to recall a memory when a shadow in the other corner caught his attention.
It seemed to waver and linger, almost studying him from where it floated about. He stared at it, the voice wanting to go study it, but he didn't instead he stared and watched it, enjoying the change of scenery from white wall to black shadow.
"You're not supposed to be here, Sam." It spoke softly, a whisper on the wind.
He didn't react, only continued to watch it with glazed eyes as emotions were slightly evoked.
"In time, though, Winchester, you'll see." And with that it disappeared, gone as if it had never been.