Sam paced his room uneasily, alarms ringing wildly in his head after the doctor left. Something wasn't right about him; he couldn't put his finger on it, but a feeling deep in his gut screamed at him to investigate.
He chewed his lip anxiously, eyes flicking nervously as his thoughts raged against each other. A part of him wanted to look deeper, find out what was going on around him. But the other, the side that had been ruling since Dean's death, wanted nothing to do with that. It wanted to burrow deep in the memories and forget all about what had happened.
Sammy, he had called him Sammy. No one called him Sammy, no one but Dean and Bobby. No, that was wrong, others had taunted him with that name but he had buried those memories and forgotten about them long ago.
Sam's brow knit in concentration, "Who had called me that?"
"No! Just go back to you and Dean, don't worry about it…" The other voice called, trying to push away the new, curious thoughts.
"But I want to know," he said out loud, startling himself with the words.
It was as if Sam had two people living within him—the past Sam wanted to be alive once again, wanted to exist, but had been pushed aside by the new Sam.
"You don't need to know, why know without Dean?" Sam asked out loud, the argument with himself becoming more maddening.
"Because, maybe I can save Dean." The thought terrified the new Sam—nothing like this had ever crossed his mind since he had arrived at the institution.
"Don't say that, we don't speak of Dean since you-know-what happened! We only remember, we just go back and try to stay!" Sam spat, shaking in anger as he fought with himself.
"Maybe we should! What if there is a way to save him? Then we don't have to sit in this horrible place and just remember, then we can actually BE with him!" Sam rubbed his face as the thoughts built in his mind, words spilling out as something awakened.
"No! No! No! We don't speak of it! Why give ourselves false hope? He is gone and there is nothing we can do but remember!" Sam turned left sharply, hunching over and trying to sit in the corner as his new self argued.
"I'm going to try." He turned right, pacing and straightening as the other side quarreled.
"No, you're not!" He twisted left.
"Yes, I am." He circled right.
"You will not!" He screamed, turning left once again.
"I will," he yelled, swinging to the right and planting his feet firmly, face burning red as his heart thundered in his chest.
Breathing hard he ran a nervous hand through his hair, a long, greasy and untamed mess a top his head. He took notice for the first time since he had arrived here, and wondered when the last time he had showered.
Before he could consider any further a vision crashed into his mind, pain slamming into his head as images crammed themselves into his brain. He slid down the wall, face contorted in agony as he grasped at empty air for help, wanting desperately for somebody to hold…for Dean to comfort him.
It was a man with a hook for a hand, his hair scraggly and long with a large brimmed hat covering most of his face. His trench coat billowed around him as he watched Sam, pure hate and evil simmering from his glare. He was grimy, covered in dirt and blood, he raised his hooked hand high and…
Sam snapped from the vision, gasping for breath as the images faded away. He thought about the man, trying desperately to remember where he had seen him. It was familiar, like some of the others, so it must have been part of his past.
"What does it mean?" he mumbled to himself, standing once again to pace the small room.
"Shouldn't try, it doesn't matter now." He sighed, his other self trying once again to intervene.
"Shut up, let me think." He snapped, eye shifting edgily.
He twiddled his fingers quickly, energy bound up for month suddenly burst into his frail frame, making him anxious as he paced back and forth.
"What do they mean? What are they?..." he muttered again, pacing quicker as his frustration grew.
All the visions suddenly flashed before his eyes, the girl with the razor, the dead doctor, the woman from the mirror, the girl with black eyes and blonde hair and the man with the hook. The all watched him, the hate and evil that radiated from them made Sam want to shrink away, disappear into the world.
He gasped for air as they consumed him, the faces flashing but meaning nothing.
"What do they mean?!" He slammed his fist in the padded wall, anger fueling him abruptly as he smashed his fist into the wall over and over again.
He distantly heard the door open, toke notice of the faint shouts but barley felt the hands that pulled him away. All he did was struggle, and kept begging someone, anyone, to tell him what they meant.
"What do they mean?! What do they mean?!" He shouted over the voices, he felt the prick of the needle once again, his shouts dying down into whispers as his vision began to blur.
He saw his own knuckles in front of him, blood slowly seeping from faint wounds caused by the leathery fabric. He looked up and saw red smeared brightly across white as his world faded away and all he could think was, "Dean would know what they mean…"
xXx
Sam awoke bound by the straight jacket once again, his arms numb from being in the horrible position for so long. He opened his eyes and saw a different doctor in front of him, patiently waiting for him to awaken from the artificial sleep.
"Sam, I see you're awake. I'd like to talk to you if that's alright?" He set down his clip board and rested his elbows on his knees, making himself closer to Sam.
Sam only watched with tired eyes, his mind still reeling on what had happened, and trying to comprehend what was now happening.
"Sam, you had your first outbreak we have seen in a long time. Can you tell me what caused that?" The doctor looked at him with questioning eyes, but Sam didn't respond.
Sam looked to the door, now curious what was on the other side. He had never really thought about something on the other side, but the doctors had to have come from somewhere. What was out there?
The doctor followed Sam's longing look at the door, scribbling the change on his note pad as he watched for any other differences.
"Would you like to go outside? Is that why you were angry, Sam?"
Sam shifted uneasily—he wanted to go outside, but that's not what he had been angry about.
"Sam, I'll make you a deal. You tell me what you were angry about, and I'll let you go outside. Sound fair?" The doctor watched him, noting Sam's reaction as he shifted and seemed to actually be considering what the doctor was offering.
Sam thought quickly, his mind once again arguing with itself, but the past Sam coming through stronger this time to try.
"I didn't know what they meant." He whispered softly, his manner so childlike it almost broke the doctor's heart.
"What are 'they' Sam?" he asked calmly, the slightest hint of excitement filling his eyes as his patient responded.
"The pic…pictures in my head. I didn't know what they meant." Sam shifted uneasily, fear sending his heart pounding as he wondered at what he had just done. He became more concerned, biting his lip at he wondered what was going to happen now.
"That's good for today Sam. Do you think you will be okay now if we take the jacket off?" the doctor asked, two orderlies coming in behind him, at the ready to take action.
Sam slowly nodded, eyes briefly catching the doctors before glancing back down at the floor. He felt buckles loosen and hands pull off the constricting device, the feeling now slowly returning to his limbs.
"Good job today, Sam. Now we are going to take you out in the hall. If you get scared, or want to go back at any time you tell us, okay? We don't want to have to sedate you again, alright?" The doctor rose to his feet, the orderlies shifting nervously behind him at the thought of Sam leaving the room.
Sam nodded and slowly stood, his feet cold and bare held shakily beneath him. He followed the doctor, eyes flicking in every direction as the door slowly screeched open. The orderlies stood by his side, his arms automatically wrapping themselves around himself to try and shrink away from them.
The doctor stepped out into the hall, Sam eyeing the open door before stepping out. The floor was shining blue tile and the walls bright white with pictures neatly hung. He observed them carefully as he stepped out into the seemingly whole new world.
The hall was long, seeming to stretch in both directions forever. Windows lined one side, bright sunlight streaming in over the tile and few chairs. Doors ran all the way down, each the exact same as his except for the golden numbers that hung from each.
Sam took another step, the slick floor so different from the leathery fabric he had become so used to. He inched closer to a near by window, the orderlies tensing at his action as he slowly sat in a wooden chair beside it.
His eyes grew wider as he observed what lay beyond the walls; a large pond was just outside the window, willow trees scattered around it until opening up to a large field. The sun was high in the sky, its bright lights dancing upon the crystal clear water and a soft breeze made the willow branches sway gently.
Sam was mesmerized by the sight—he had forgotten about the outside world and what it consisted of. The sight took, his breath away, made his thoughts calm as he began to let the memories flow back into him.
Him and Dean had been hunting that girl with a razor, she was an angry spirit.
Sam almost jumped as the thought came to him, his eyes so fixed on the trees he didn't even realize what he had just considered. He looked around suddenly, as if another person had told him this. Had it been someone else?
He saw the doctor from yesterday, but now he saw his face was different, his face was terrifying. Black eyes hid behind burned flesh, tears and wounds seeped crimson blood against smoldered and rotting skin. Turfs of hair were missing, teeth were black against yellowed gums as it smiled at him.
"Hey Sammy, feelin' better today, huh?" The doctor grinned, more blood flowing from shattered teeth as he did so.
Sam tried to scoot away, suddenly missing the comfort of his corner. He almost panicked, almost tried to run, but he remembered the threat of sedation, recalled the straight jacket and simply turned to the other doctor.
"I'd like to go back now, please," he whispered, eyes refusing to meet the disgusting being's black eyes.
"Okay, Sam, let's take you back to your room." He put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder, guiding him the few feet to his room and shutting the door behind him.
Sam went to his corner, sat down and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around himself. He rocked back and forth quickly, fear making his heart race rapidly in his chest.
Words spoken long ago came to soothe him, Dean's child voice speaking gently to him until the words reached his own lips.
"Don't be afraid Sammy. Don't be afraid Sammy. Don't be afraid Sammy…"