Reality is Relevant/ Wincest/ nc,17
Title: Reality is Relevant
Author: Dolavine
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Nc-17
Word Count: 12,350
Warnings: h/c, minor images of institutional abuse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Dean’s thrust into an alternate reality where he’s in an mental hospital. He’s not sure what’s real and what’s not as he slips between realities. His only constant is Sam who guides him and tethers him in both realms as he fights to keep Dean with in the real world.
A/N: Written for spn_reversebang using the video prompt 1071 Interlude by mangacat201. I want to thank the mods for this wonderful Challenge again this round. Thank you to for being such a wonderful artist mangacat201, so patient with my hectic life. Your video was a great inspiration and thank you for helping me to step out of my box and write my first long hurt/comfort fic. Thanks to memoonster for the beta, for giving it your best and for always being supportive.
PDF: AO3
Link to Art: mangacat201 ’s video: Interlude
Dean watches for signs of life from Sam as he lays face down on the wet cement floor. His vision gets blurry and the air won’t escape his windpipe anymore as he tries in vain to call out Sam’s name while tearing at the arm fixed firmly around his throat applying steady pressure.
Dean’s eyes start to roll into the back of his head as he feels himself lose consciousness. The strong arm around his neck loosens its grip but it’s too late, he falls limply to the floor, his head bouncing off of the same wet cement that his brother is laying lifelessly on. He gasps futilely, his throat making tiny noises as not enough air gets to his lungs to keep him alert.
His eyes flutter a few times as he tries to fight the sinking feeling as he drops into the pit of darkness swallowing him up like a black hole.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The harsh light pierces Dean’s eye as he feels himself breaking the surface of a deep haze. He jerks and tries to close his eye unsuccessfully. He tries to move his arms but he can’t, they seem to be strapped down. “What the fuck?” he asks angrily; his voice is rough and raw like his vocal cords have been run over a cheese grater. He jerks his head away from the light when his eyelid is released.
A tall dark haired woman is smiling down at him. “Dean, nice of you to join us again,” she says.
Dean looks around, he doesn’t know where he is but figures Sam brought him to a hospital. “What’s the diagnosis Doc?” he tries to sit up but can’t move as he struggles against the restraints on his arms and legs.
“Lie still Dean,” she puts a hand on his chest and looks at the orderly behind his bed and nods her head. “It’s for your own safety.”
“What’s for my safety?” Dean’s clearly agitated; he’s twisting his head to look around, trying to figure out how to get away.
“Just relax,” two hands come down on his shoulders and hold him down. “We don’t want to have to sedate you again.”
The gurney starts to move down the hall, the lights on the ceiling flicking by as he rolls at a steady pace. The sounds of people talking and glimpses of white coats inside of well lit rooms and closed numbered doors flood his brain.
Suddenly the gurney turns through a doorway and stops. It’s a hospital room but with a few more creature comfort looking things. There is a bed in the middle of the room, a dresser and chair along the wall and no sign of machines or life saving implements. He’s not sure where he is or what’s going on.
“What’s happening?” he calls to the man in the white scrubs walking out the door.
“Just wait for your nurse to come and undo your restraints,” he never even turns just keeps walking out into the hallway.
“Fuck you,” Dean calls out into the corridor. He’s exhausted from trying to pull loose from his bonds and he can feel the sheepskin burn on his skin. He gives up squirming and retching for the moment, trying to catch his breath and trying to take in what is going on out in the hall.
He hears voices filtering in, mostly female but one male voice stands out. He thinks its Sam; he thinks he hears Sam’s voice in the hall saying his name. Dean’s back in his room? His heart literally skips a happy beat and he relaxes against his leather shackles. Sam’s here to get him out.
A tall man in white scrubs walks through the doorway. He has long hair and a slender build, he’s not quite in sight yet but Dean knows that it’s Sam. “Am I glad to see you,” he’s smiling from ear to ear. The man walks into view and as suspected it’s Sam. “Sammy boy get me out of these things.”
“In a minute Dean,” Sam says pouring some water before tilting up the head of the gurney so Dean is in an upright position. “Take your meds first,” he holds out a tiny white Dixie cup with two pills in it.
“What the fuck Sam, I am not taking those pills,” he’s protesting and confused.
“You know I can’t undo the restraints unless you take your pills Dean,” Sam offers the pills to Dean’s mouth again “Now just be good and take them.”
“Seriously Sam? What’s wrong with you, have you been captured by the body snatchers, you’re acting weird. Now get me the fuck out of these things,” he’s squirming again; his face is red and he’s mad as hell.
Sam sighs. “I’ll just have to leave and come back if you don’t take them now, you will eventually take them for me, you always do,” he smoothes a cool hand over Dean’s furrowed brow.
“You’ve lost your mind, who are you?” he figures the only reasonable explanation is this is a shape shifter using Sam’s body. “Shifter, when I get loose,” Sam doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence.
“I’ll gut you with the knife. Where do you have Sam, what did you do with him?” he leans over Dean, his mouth next to his ear. “Haven’t we been through this more than enough times already?” he whispers. He stands up and looks down into Dean’s eyes and strokes his forehead once more. “I’m Sam Wesson, your nurse here at St. Abby’s mental health hospital. You’ve been here for 7 months and you have schizophrenic delusional tendencies. You think you’re hunter of ghosts and goblins and that I am your brother Sam Winchester,” he takes Dean’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “It’s all in your head and once you take your meds, we can have a coherent conversation and some dinner. I’ll bet you’re starved since you haven’t eaten in a few days.”
Dean looks into the man’s hazel eyes, eyes that look like his brother’s. “Liar,” he says with the coldest tone.
“I’ll be back later,” with that Sam turns and leaves the room, leaving Dean still restrained on the gurney, under the harsh white light glaring down in his face.
It might be fifteen minutes and it might be over an hour, Dean isn’t sure. Things are hazy and he’s exhausted from trying to work himself free. Sam comes back in again. “Are we ready to take our meds yet,” he asks in the nicest way.
Dean’s tired of the restraints and he’s not getting anywhere if he can’t get free so he hopes that at least pretending to take the medication will get his restraints removed. He nods his head yes even though his expression says otherwise and opens his mouth like a baby bird.
“Okay,” Sam empties the pills into his mouth and holds the water up to Dean’s lips; he sips and makes a loud noise after. “Now open back up and let me check,” Sam says putting his thumb on Dean’s chin.
“I swallowed them,” he protests.
“I have to check, you like to hide them under your tongue.”
Sam is right, he does have them under his tongue and he tries quickly to invisibly move them to his upper gum line. “Go ahead,” he opens his mouth wide and holds out his tongue.
Sam reaches in and moves his finger all over Dean’s mouth, Dean’s strangely turned on by this action because Sam loves to stuff his fingers in Dean’s mouth when they have sex and make him suck on them while he fucks him good and hard. Sam slips his finger up the sides of Dean’s cheek and Dean tries to close his mouth. “I swallowed them,” he says with a mouthful of Sam’s long digits.
Sam pops the softened pills down with his finger. “No you didn’t,” he offers Dean more water. “Now they’ll be all bitter and mushy and hard to swallow,” he holds the cup to Dean’s lips, “Drink.”
Dean’s tongue tastes like poison and he takes the water, swallowing the melting pills. “There, are you happy now, nurse Ratchet.”
“Very. Now in about ten minutes I’ll be back with a food tray for you,” he disappears into the hallway.
“You bastard, you said you’d let me out,” he jerks the restraints and yells at Sam.
Sam comes in with the tray of food and sets it down. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he starts to gently undo Dean’s restraints and help him to sit up on the edge of the gurney.
Dean looks up at him with glazed over eyes and gives a half hearted smile. “I’m feeling woozy, kind of stoned,” he’s fuzzy headed and his hands are numb. “What the fuck was in that medicine?” his speech is slurred.
“It’ll pass, always does and then you’ll be feeling much better,” Sam’s smiling at him with tender eyes as he examines the red welts on Dean’s wrists. “This is worse than usual,” he’s smoothing gently over them. “We better put some cream on these or they’ll burn later.”
Dean looks at his wrist like he doesn’t recognize it. “Worse than usual?” he asks swaying a little when Sam lets go of him to get the cream.
“Whoa there handsome,” Sam quickly grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t slip off the gurney onto the floor. “You are woozy aren’t you?”
“Stoned,” Dean emphasizes with a half grin and hooded eyes. His body is limp and boneless so when Sam helps him to his feet to get him onto his actual bed, he leans on him heavily.
Sam lays him down and pulls the chair over to the bedside to soothe his wrists. He scoops up a liberal amount of the soothing cream and slowly begins to caress it over the red skin.
“Mmmm, nice,” Dean says sleepily as he relaxes even more into the touches.
Sam’s fingers dance lightly over Dean’s skin. “You have to stop fighting the restraints Dean, next time you might break the skin,” his voice is soft and kind.
“Okay,” Dean’s compliant and in a dream like state from the medications and Sam’s warm reassuring touches. “I love it when you touch me like this Sammy,” he reaches out and touches Sam’s arm and squeezes softly.
“We can’t Dean, not now, not when you’re like this,” he drops Dean’s hand and stands up.
“But I want it,” he reaches out for Sam.
“I can’t,” he clears his throat and picks up the tray. “I’ll be back later,” he starts out the door.
“You don’t love me,” Dean’s words are trailing off.
Sam turns back and sighs sadly. “Always,” he whispers and then closes the door.
“Bring me back some pie,” Dean says groggily as the door shuts.
~~~~~~~~~~
The smell of food wakes Dean up. There’s a tray over his bed and Sam’s standing next to it. “Rise and shine,” he’s lifting the lid off a steaming plate of food.
Dean blinks thinking its still a dream but when he opens his eyes again Sam’s still standing there dressed in white with an ID tag that reads; Sam Wesson RN. “So, this is real?” he questions it all out loud.
“As real as reality gets, glad to see the meds have kicked in,” Sam pushes the up button on the bed rail. “And look, I brought you some pie from Ellen Harvelle’s diner across the street not that cardboard they call pie in the cafeteria,” he opens the tiny pie slice shaped box and waves it under Dean’s nose, “Apple.”
“Ellen bakes pies?” he’s laughing but the pie smells delicious.
“Her sign says pies baked fresh daily.”
Dean sits up and starts to pick at the food. He gives Sam a sideways glance. “How long have I been here?”
“Seven months,” Sam sits down next to the bed.
“How did I get here?” he has questions because all of the memories of his life can’t have come from insanity, they’re too real.
“They found you unconscious in a warehouse downtown.”
“Where is here?” he keeps questioning like an amnesia victim.
“Dean you know we’re in Lawrence,” he gives him a stern look.
Dean swallows his bite of food, his heart is racing. “Have my parents been in to see me?” he asks with a shaky voice.
“No, only one visitor in the seven months and he said he was your Uncle Bobby, stayed for about an hour but you kept rambling on about ghosts and demons. You couldn’t hold a normal conversation so he left.”
A tear wells up in Dean’s eye. “Yeah Uncle Bobby, maybe he’ll come back another day. Now I want to try this pie,” he takes a huge bite and tries to stifle down his tears with it.
“It’s okay Dean, you’re always a little bit off your game when you first come out of one of your spells,” Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and kisses his forehead.
Dean’s surprised by the kiss and looks up at him. “We in a relationship?” he asks with a mouthful of pie.
“Kinda,” he smiles. “If hands jobs and make out sessions are a relationship?”
“Isn’t it against the rules to take advantage of someone in a decreased mental state,” he grins shoving another piece of pie in his mouth.
“Not when they basically attack you first,” Sam winks. “My shift is over in a few minutes so you finish your pie and they’ll be in to take your tray. See you in the morning and no getting rough with the night help, I don’t want to find you in the shock therapy room again,” he kisses Dean’s forehead once more and leaves.
“Yes sir,” he salutes Sam.
He waits about fifteen minutes to make sure Sam doesn’t return then gets out of bed. He rummages through the drawers looking for his clothes. He finds his wallet and opens it, his driver’s license says Dean Winchester Lawrence Kansas with an address he doesn’t know. He opens the closet to find his shirt and jeans but no shoes or jacket. “Bastards think I won’t run off without them,” he pulls them out and gets dressed. All he has for shoes are a pair of foam slippers but he figures they’ll do until he can get some other ones. He sneaks out into the hallway; he watches the nurse’s station from around the corner and makes a break for the stairwell. He’s making his way down to the lobby. “I’ll just walk right out.” He makes his way to the door with confidence but when he gets there a strong hand squeezes his shoulder. He looks over and it’s Sam.
“Dean, what am I going to do with you?” he shakes his head. “You have to go back to your room or they’ll put you in confinement for three days like last time.”
“I don’t belong here,” he shoves at Sam and tries to open the door but Sam stops him, pushes him to the ground. The guard runs over but Sam holds up his hand, “I’ve got this,” he puts his arm over Dean’s chest. “Don’t do this,” he says with compassion.
“I’m Dean “fucking” Winchester, you can’t keep me here,” he struggles against Sam’s strong arm. “Something’s wrong Sammy, maybe a trickster or spell but I have to know, have to find out,” he kicks at Sam, tries to knock him out of the way unsuccessfully.
Sam pulls Dean to his feet. “Back to your room,” he drags him struggling and fighting onto the elevator. “Listen to me Dean,” he’s holding him against the wall in a choke hold. “This has to stop, today.”
“Fuck you,” Dean hisses out. “This can’t be real,” he can feel his resolve wavering. “You’re my brother,” his eyes are tearing up.
“I am NOT your brother,” Sam’s trembling. “I love you Dean but I can’t save you from yourself, especially when you’re like this.”
“You don’t save me, I SAVE you,” he tries once more to push away before the elevator doors open.
“It ends now,” Sam drags him to his room, past the nurse’s station.
“Not again,” one of the nurses say as they pass. “I’ll call Dr. Cartwright.”
Sam pushes Dean into the bed and holds him down. “They’re calling Dr. Cartwright, this isn’t going to end well,” he’s struggling to hold Dean while an orderly comes in and straps him down.
“You can’t do this,” Dean keeps insisting.
“We can do anything we want,” the orderly says pulling the straps extra tight.
“That’s enough,” Sam grabs his hands and shoves them off of the leather strap. “I’ll finish it,” he makes the straps tight enough but not too tight.
“I have to…” Sam doesn’t let him finish his sentence. “It’s not what you want; it’s what you have to do. Now lay still and calm down,” Sam doesn’t know what else to do, he’s done everything, tried so hard to help him and to take care of him.
The nurse comes in with a machine and sets it next to the bed.
“Oh God no,” Sam says. “You can’t, he just had some last night, you’ll fry his brain,” he’s begging her.
“Dr. says just a few volts to calm him down and bring him back,” She’s plugging in the machine.
“No, you can’t,” Sam protests, he’s worried, his face is contorted and he grabs Dean’s thigh.
Dean’s not sure what’s happening but Sam’s grip on his thigh and the look on his face has him worried. The nurse puts a band over his head and attaches some wires. He knows what’s about to happen.
“Get the fuck off of me Bitch,” he screams and tries to sit up but his body is strapped down, his hands are useless too.
“Lay still now,” she says as the sound of the buzzing machine starts. “Let go Samuel,” she says pulling his hand away from Dean’s thigh.
“Please no,” he begs one last time.
Dean swallows hard, “I’ll behave,” it comes out like a small child’s plea for less punishment.
The machine beeps and she shoves a rubber bit into Dean’s mouth then presses a button, a wave of heat pulses through Dean’s head and he can’t stop it, his jaw clenches tight, a flash of light covers his eyes like a blinding blanket.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Dean’s eyes fly open and he screams with every ounce of strength in him.
Sam’s sleeping with his head on the laptop, he startles awake and runs over to Dean. He grabs a wet washcloth from a basin on the table. “It’s okay man, its me, I’m here,” he says quietly as he holds Dean down.
“Don’t let them,” Dean pants out. He’s sweating and hot and his mouth is dry.
“No one is going to hurt you, I’m here,” Sam wipes his head with the damp cloth. “Shhh it’s alright,” Sam rubs Dean’s forehead.
Dean’s eyes focus on Sam. He’s dressed in his usual flannel shirt and his fingertips feel rough with calluses as they dance over Dean’s forehead. He looks around and he’s in a darkly lit motel room, the smell of old cigarettes and beer lingering in the air. “Sam?” he questions wearily.
“Yeah,” he can’t believe Dean’s awake.
“Where am I?” he’s confused.
“I brought you back to the motel after you went unconscious,” he’s still stroking Dean’s head.
Dean’s head lulls to the side. “I’m dreaming,” he sighs.
“What, no,” Sam’s confused. “You’re here with me, right now,” he lifts him up in his arms. “Feel me, I’m real.”
Dean’s arms wrap around Sam holding him tight. “I need to be sure,” he whispers.
“You can’t get any more real than this.”
He lies back down, his dry tongue running over his parched lips. “I need a drink.”
Sam gets him a glass of water and slowly gives him a few sips. “You’ve been out for two days, you haven’t been conscious for more than a few seconds and even then you weren’t coherent.”
“What happened, I mean I remember that thing attacking us, you on the floor and then a dreamland of some sorts, a pretty fucked up dreamland too.”
“That thing, turned out to be a Djinn, it touched you and out you went, after you were down I managed to kill it but you’ve been out of it ever since. I was just waiting for it to wear off but you just seemed to keep going deeper.”
“So a djinn,” his head is fuzzy and he feels like he’s going to throw up. “It’s real,” he’s not sure what is happening, not sure where he really is. His eyes are glassy and he can feel reality slipping away as if a curtain is pulled over his eyes. Darkness keeps creeping in and out like a light switch is being slowly flicked on and off.
Sam sees that he’s losing consciousness and he shakes him. “Stay with me Dean, stay here Dean, come on don’t..” his words slip away as he watches Dean flicker, his eyes rolling back in his head and his body goes limp. “No Dean, No,” he cries out as he holds him tight.
He lays him down and curls up beside him, his body so close he can hear the slow steady rhythm of his heart. Sam doesn’t know what to do, how to save him, how to stop this. He’s not sure if Dean’s in a world built by the djinn or if he’s silently unconscious, all he can do is wait.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Dean’s head is pounding and throbbing, his neck hurts and his jaw feels like steel. When he opens his eyes he sees Sam reading a book while waiting patiently by his bedside. “How long?” he asks, his voice is raw and cracking.
Sam looks up and smiles. “A few hours, not long at all,” he puts his book down. “I’m sorry, I feel like it’s my fault,” he touches Dean’s arm.
“It’s not your fault, I have to learn the rules,” he blinks a few times and twists his head like he’s adjusting his neck. “You’d think I’d learn or something. You know, like the rat with the food bowls or whatever,” he tries to move but he’s still strapped down.
Sam laughs quietly at that statement, “Something like that.”
“You think I could get up and use the head?” he wiggles his arms a little. “Kinda hard to go like this, unless I am wearing a diaper and then, its all systems go,” he actually gives a small chuckle at that.
“No, no diaper,” Sam undoes his straps and helps him to the bathroom. “I’ll just wait out here,” he looks kind of embarrassed and for what reason he’s not really sure.
“Yeah, I don’t need help holding it, right now anyway,” Dean winks.
It’s silent in the bathroom; the cool tile on his feet is in a strange way consoling. He’s trying to understand what’s going on and he knows he has to play by the rules now because that’s the only thing that’s going to keep him from having more current pumped through his noggin.
“Want a snack?” Sam asks.
“I could eat something, what you got?”
Sam pulls a bag of licorice out of his backpack. “Twizzlers,” he waves the pack at Dean.
Dean’s eyes light up. “Man after my own heart,” he reaches for the bag but Sam pulls it away.
“There’s a price,” he makes his resolve face that Dean knows as his bitch face.
“And what would that be?” he’s weary of any strings.
“Behave yourself tonight, I want to go home and sleep until I have to come back in the morning,” he lays the twizzlers on the tray table.
“Why did you wait for me?” he needs to know what is going on in this man’s head, the head that he thinks should be on his brother’s shoulders.
“We’re friends and I worry about you,” he reaches over and squeezes Dean’s knee with a loving grip.
Dean looks at the long fingers squeezing his knee. “Friends don’t touch friends like you’re touching me,” he looks over into Sam’s eyes. “You told me we’ve touched each other sexually, what do you feel for me?” he wants to know all of these thoughts swimming in his head aren’t real, all the things he remembers are figments of an over active imagination because he feels things for this man, this tall man he thinks looks exactly like his brother from these memories.
Sam looks over at the door to make sure no one is there and lowers the volume of his voice to just above a whisper. “Yes Dean, I care for you, I am attracted to you and we’ve been intimate in minor ways. Very heavy petting, make-out session types of ways.”
There is a twinge in Dean’s chest; it’s a feeling he’s only ever felt with his brother. That feeling he gets when Sammy touches his skin at night when they are being intimate, when they are staring into each others eyes and the need and want floods over them to the point that they can’t stop it.
He slips his hand over Sam’s and squeezes it in return. Their eyes are locked in a knowing gaze and Dean smiles. “I want to remember everything with you,” Dean wants to lean forward and kiss him, see if he tastes like Sammy, see if he responds like Sammy and know for sure if this is truly reality.
Sam pulls his hand away, he knows what Dean wants and he wants it too. He wants to kiss him, show him how much he cares but he can’t, “not here, not now, it’s not safe.”
A tall dark haired woman in a trench coat carrying a medical chart walks into the room. “So Dean,” she says very sternly.
“Dr. Cartwright,” Sam says standing up.
Dean remembers her, she’s the face that told him it was for his own safety but he didn’t know who she was. This is the woman who ordered his skull pumped full of electricity. He doesn’t like her right away. “Present,” he says with attitude. Sam gives him a dark glare.
“You’ve been a very bad patient,” she cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head as she reads the chart. “Trying to escape tonight and only hours after having a severe mental break,” she makes a tsk tsk tsk noise before sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.
“I guess I’ve been a very bad boy, are you going to spank me? Oh wait you already pumped me full of electricity,” he says harshly.
“And if you’re not careful I’ll sedate you, so choose your tone with me wisely,” she glares at him. “I don’t put up with insubordination lightly.”
Sam clears his throat nervously. “I was just going to take Dean for a little walk to strengthen his legs up again, he’s still a little shaky from the treatment, Doctor.”
She looks Dean up and down. “We have an appointment tomorrow, don’t miss it this time or I’ll come down personally and get you,” she looks at Sam. “Keep an eye on him, he’s a squirmy one,” she stands up to leave but turns around and looks directly into Dean’s eyes. “You’re going to have to get with the program or I have a solitary room ready for you at all times,” she turns on the very high heels she’s wearing and clicks down the hall.
“She’s scary,” he makes an oops face. “I better be a good boy or she might whip me, while wearing high heels and a black leather corset.”
“Don’t push her Dean, you know full well what she’s capable of and you have the scars on your temples to prove it. Now get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What about my walk?”
“You don’t need one, you’re fine. Now eat your twizzlers and go to bed,” he squeezes Dean’s shoulder before heading out the door.
Dean smiles for the first time since he’s not sure when. Sam makes him feel safe and it’s a familiar feeling, something that he knows has no basis but it’s like they’ve known each other forever and have had each other’s backs for as long.
~~~~~~~~~~
Flashes of light invade Dean’s dreams, the warm feel of someone tight against his body. A hand snakes around his waist and cups him so gently that it’s tender and warm, this half embrace of kindness and love. There’s hot breath on his neck and searing skin against his back underneath cool sheets. Legs entwined like knotted branches of a twisted tree, long feet resting on his calves and it all feels so surreal and real at the same time.
Sleep is restless and comfortable simultaneously. His mind races with images and thoughts, memories of things that couldn’t have happened but feel like they must have been real.
When he wakes up the sun hasn’t come up yet, his body aches and feels like he’s been through a war. His mouth is dry, he’s sweating and the sheets are soaked. He stumbles out of bed and into the tiny bathroom where he turns on the cold water splashing it on his face. The cool refreshing shock of it is soothing. He stares at his wet face in the mirror; his freckles stand out as they pepper his pale cheeks. His green eyes look sunken and tired; they have dark circles under them. He’s kind of shocked to see what he looks like but then again, he doesn’t expect much better after what he’s been through.
He runs a finger over his temple feeling the semi circle scar imprinted there from his treatments as his torturers call them. The small red half moon that outlines the white semi circle is fresh and he rubs at it and thinks, this is gonna leave a mark too.
The light over the sink starts to flash and his eyes get blurry from the strobe like action. He wobbles on his feet and the dizziness sets in, he falls to the floor with a shooting pain straight through his temple, like a knife to the brain.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Dean, Dean,” Sam’s shouting as he shakes him. Dean’s mumbling, he’s sweating and shaking and Sam’s afraid he’ll convulse again.
He runs to the bathroom and gets cold damp towels to put on his face and neck, he wants to cool him down and hopefully stop the brain fever he’s been having from poison.
It’s been several hours; Sam actually forgets time these days because taking care of Dean is the most important thing in his life. Dean’s fever is down, the shaking has stopped and he’s resting comfortably.
Sam is curled up next to him when Dean’s eyes flutter open, he looks over at Sam. “Dean,” Sam sits up and leans over him.
“Sammy,” his mouth is dry and he can barely form the word.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Sam’s smiling as he caresses Dean’s forehead.
“What, where am I?”
“You’re with me in the motel, we’ve been here for a few days now,” he gets him a glass of water and helps him to sit up.
Dean grunts with the painful aches in his joints. “Am I dreaming?” It all feels so surreal; he can’t believe he’s not dreaming this.
Sam holds him up and feeds him the water and few pills that Bobby found that he hopes might help. “Here take these,” he puts the pills in his mouth and then gives him the water. Dean obediently swallows them.
“Yuck, what is in those things, they taste like poison,” he drinks the water down quickly to wash the taste away.
“Hemlock and fox slipper, they’re counteragents to venoms. Bobby thinks they might help.
“Was I bitten by something?” he’s confused as to what’s going on.
“Dean, you were infected by a Djinn,” he’s making soothing circles over Dean’s back.
Dean sits straight up, he’s confused, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he looks at Sam and sees a man, a man who he’s not sure who he is. “Tell me, are you my brother?” he asks in a panic.
Sam looks at him in disbelief, “I am,” he says cautiously.
“But you’re Sam Wesson, aren’t you?”
“No Dean, I’m Sam Winchester, just like you are Dean Winchester,” he gives him the most earnest look he can. “We’re brothers.”
Dean shakes his head. “Can’t be, I don’t have a brother, I’m dreaming this, you aren’t real,” he holds his head as tears start to roll down his face.
“I’m real,” Sam’s worried, Dean seems inconsolable. “Here,” he pulls him close, “feel this,” Sam hugs Dean tight, his arms wrapped around him, cradling him, trying to comfort him.
“How can this be real,” Dean’s sobbing, his mind feels broken, he can’t distinguish reality from fantasy anymore. “Is this real or is this just a cruel dream?”
Sam turns to him and looks into his eyes. “I’m real and I love you,” he leans forward and kisses Dean’s lips with a soft gentle kiss. Dean starts to give in to the feelings and return Sam’s kiss but then abruptly pulls away. He’s shocked, and his hands are trembling.
“No,” he cries out. “It can’t be real, I can’t be in love with my brother,” he pushes away, his heart racing a mile a minute, more pain shooting through his head like sparks of electricity. He’s scrambling across the bed. Sam’s heart is breaking, he knows it’s the poison but still it hurts, between what Dean’s going through and to be rejected like this, it feels like too much.
“I don’t know how to convince you,” he gets up and walks over to the chair across the room. “I guess I can’t.”
Dean’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “What is wrong with me,” he looks up to the heavens. “Help me, please, please help me,” he’s crying, tears streaming down his face. He walks over to Sam and falls down in front of him, he leans his head on his knees. “I’m so broken, how can I be so broken?” Sam rubs his head in a consoling manner.
“Shhh, it’s alright Dean, it’s alright,” Sam wants to cure him, save him, bring him back but he doesn’t know how to do it. “You need your rest,” he says helping Dean back to bed. He tucks him in and sits on the edge of the bed. Dean takes hold of Sam’s arm.
“Don’t leave me,” he begs in a shaky voice.
“Never,” Sam says taking his hand and interlacing their fingers together. It’s comforting to Dean and makes him feel safe.
Sam calls Bobby and tells him what seems to be going on, how Dean’s confused and not sure what reality is, how he’s afraid he’s losing him to insanity if they don’t find a cure and fast.
It’s not long before the pain starts in Dean’s head again, the flashes of light, the sharp stabbing pain in his temples and it’s unbearable.
~~~~~~~~~~
PART 2
Author: Dolavine
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Nc-17
Word Count: 12,350
Warnings: h/c, minor images of institutional abuse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Dean’s thrust into an alternate reality where he’s in an mental hospital. He’s not sure what’s real and what’s not as he slips between realities. His only constant is Sam who guides him and tethers him in both realms as he fights to keep Dean with in the real world.
A/N: Written for spn_reversebang using the video prompt 1071 Interlude by mangacat201. I want to thank the mods for this wonderful Challenge again this round. Thank you to for being such a wonderful artist mangacat201, so patient with my hectic life. Your video was a great inspiration and thank you for helping me to step out of my box and write my first long hurt/comfort fic. Thanks to memoonster for the beta, for giving it your best and for always being supportive.
PDF: AO3
Link to Art: mangacat201 ’s video: Interlude
Dean watches for signs of life from Sam as he lays face down on the wet cement floor. His vision gets blurry and the air won’t escape his windpipe anymore as he tries in vain to call out Sam’s name while tearing at the arm fixed firmly around his throat applying steady pressure.
Dean’s eyes start to roll into the back of his head as he feels himself lose consciousness. The strong arm around his neck loosens its grip but it’s too late, he falls limply to the floor, his head bouncing off of the same wet cement that his brother is laying lifelessly on. He gasps futilely, his throat making tiny noises as not enough air gets to his lungs to keep him alert.
His eyes flutter a few times as he tries to fight the sinking feeling as he drops into the pit of darkness swallowing him up like a black hole.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The harsh light pierces Dean’s eye as he feels himself breaking the surface of a deep haze. He jerks and tries to close his eye unsuccessfully. He tries to move his arms but he can’t, they seem to be strapped down. “What the fuck?” he asks angrily; his voice is rough and raw like his vocal cords have been run over a cheese grater. He jerks his head away from the light when his eyelid is released.
A tall dark haired woman is smiling down at him. “Dean, nice of you to join us again,” she says.
Dean looks around, he doesn’t know where he is but figures Sam brought him to a hospital. “What’s the diagnosis Doc?” he tries to sit up but can’t move as he struggles against the restraints on his arms and legs.
“Lie still Dean,” she puts a hand on his chest and looks at the orderly behind his bed and nods her head. “It’s for your own safety.”
“What’s for my safety?” Dean’s clearly agitated; he’s twisting his head to look around, trying to figure out how to get away.
“Just relax,” two hands come down on his shoulders and hold him down. “We don’t want to have to sedate you again.”
The gurney starts to move down the hall, the lights on the ceiling flicking by as he rolls at a steady pace. The sounds of people talking and glimpses of white coats inside of well lit rooms and closed numbered doors flood his brain.
Suddenly the gurney turns through a doorway and stops. It’s a hospital room but with a few more creature comfort looking things. There is a bed in the middle of the room, a dresser and chair along the wall and no sign of machines or life saving implements. He’s not sure where he is or what’s going on.
“What’s happening?” he calls to the man in the white scrubs walking out the door.
“Just wait for your nurse to come and undo your restraints,” he never even turns just keeps walking out into the hallway.
“Fuck you,” Dean calls out into the corridor. He’s exhausted from trying to pull loose from his bonds and he can feel the sheepskin burn on his skin. He gives up squirming and retching for the moment, trying to catch his breath and trying to take in what is going on out in the hall.
He hears voices filtering in, mostly female but one male voice stands out. He thinks its Sam; he thinks he hears Sam’s voice in the hall saying his name. Dean’s back in his room? His heart literally skips a happy beat and he relaxes against his leather shackles. Sam’s here to get him out.
A tall man in white scrubs walks through the doorway. He has long hair and a slender build, he’s not quite in sight yet but Dean knows that it’s Sam. “Am I glad to see you,” he’s smiling from ear to ear. The man walks into view and as suspected it’s Sam. “Sammy boy get me out of these things.”
“In a minute Dean,” Sam says pouring some water before tilting up the head of the gurney so Dean is in an upright position. “Take your meds first,” he holds out a tiny white Dixie cup with two pills in it.
“What the fuck Sam, I am not taking those pills,” he’s protesting and confused.
“You know I can’t undo the restraints unless you take your pills Dean,” Sam offers the pills to Dean’s mouth again “Now just be good and take them.”
“Seriously Sam? What’s wrong with you, have you been captured by the body snatchers, you’re acting weird. Now get me the fuck out of these things,” he’s squirming again; his face is red and he’s mad as hell.
Sam sighs. “I’ll just have to leave and come back if you don’t take them now, you will eventually take them for me, you always do,” he smoothes a cool hand over Dean’s furrowed brow.
“You’ve lost your mind, who are you?” he figures the only reasonable explanation is this is a shape shifter using Sam’s body. “Shifter, when I get loose,” Sam doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence.
“I’ll gut you with the knife. Where do you have Sam, what did you do with him?” he leans over Dean, his mouth next to his ear. “Haven’t we been through this more than enough times already?” he whispers. He stands up and looks down into Dean’s eyes and strokes his forehead once more. “I’m Sam Wesson, your nurse here at St. Abby’s mental health hospital. You’ve been here for 7 months and you have schizophrenic delusional tendencies. You think you’re hunter of ghosts and goblins and that I am your brother Sam Winchester,” he takes Dean’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “It’s all in your head and once you take your meds, we can have a coherent conversation and some dinner. I’ll bet you’re starved since you haven’t eaten in a few days.”
Dean looks into the man’s hazel eyes, eyes that look like his brother’s. “Liar,” he says with the coldest tone.
“I’ll be back later,” with that Sam turns and leaves the room, leaving Dean still restrained on the gurney, under the harsh white light glaring down in his face.
It might be fifteen minutes and it might be over an hour, Dean isn’t sure. Things are hazy and he’s exhausted from trying to work himself free. Sam comes back in again. “Are we ready to take our meds yet,” he asks in the nicest way.
Dean’s tired of the restraints and he’s not getting anywhere if he can’t get free so he hopes that at least pretending to take the medication will get his restraints removed. He nods his head yes even though his expression says otherwise and opens his mouth like a baby bird.
“Okay,” Sam empties the pills into his mouth and holds the water up to Dean’s lips; he sips and makes a loud noise after. “Now open back up and let me check,” Sam says putting his thumb on Dean’s chin.
“I swallowed them,” he protests.
“I have to check, you like to hide them under your tongue.”
Sam is right, he does have them under his tongue and he tries quickly to invisibly move them to his upper gum line. “Go ahead,” he opens his mouth wide and holds out his tongue.
Sam reaches in and moves his finger all over Dean’s mouth, Dean’s strangely turned on by this action because Sam loves to stuff his fingers in Dean’s mouth when they have sex and make him suck on them while he fucks him good and hard. Sam slips his finger up the sides of Dean’s cheek and Dean tries to close his mouth. “I swallowed them,” he says with a mouthful of Sam’s long digits.
Sam pops the softened pills down with his finger. “No you didn’t,” he offers Dean more water. “Now they’ll be all bitter and mushy and hard to swallow,” he holds the cup to Dean’s lips, “Drink.”
Dean’s tongue tastes like poison and he takes the water, swallowing the melting pills. “There, are you happy now, nurse Ratchet.”
“Very. Now in about ten minutes I’ll be back with a food tray for you,” he disappears into the hallway.
“You bastard, you said you’d let me out,” he jerks the restraints and yells at Sam.
Sam comes in with the tray of food and sets it down. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he starts to gently undo Dean’s restraints and help him to sit up on the edge of the gurney.
Dean looks up at him with glazed over eyes and gives a half hearted smile. “I’m feeling woozy, kind of stoned,” he’s fuzzy headed and his hands are numb. “What the fuck was in that medicine?” his speech is slurred.
“It’ll pass, always does and then you’ll be feeling much better,” Sam’s smiling at him with tender eyes as he examines the red welts on Dean’s wrists. “This is worse than usual,” he’s smoothing gently over them. “We better put some cream on these or they’ll burn later.”
Dean looks at his wrist like he doesn’t recognize it. “Worse than usual?” he asks swaying a little when Sam lets go of him to get the cream.
“Whoa there handsome,” Sam quickly grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t slip off the gurney onto the floor. “You are woozy aren’t you?”
“Stoned,” Dean emphasizes with a half grin and hooded eyes. His body is limp and boneless so when Sam helps him to his feet to get him onto his actual bed, he leans on him heavily.
Sam lays him down and pulls the chair over to the bedside to soothe his wrists. He scoops up a liberal amount of the soothing cream and slowly begins to caress it over the red skin.
“Mmmm, nice,” Dean says sleepily as he relaxes even more into the touches.
Sam’s fingers dance lightly over Dean’s skin. “You have to stop fighting the restraints Dean, next time you might break the skin,” his voice is soft and kind.
“Okay,” Dean’s compliant and in a dream like state from the medications and Sam’s warm reassuring touches. “I love it when you touch me like this Sammy,” he reaches out and touches Sam’s arm and squeezes softly.
“We can’t Dean, not now, not when you’re like this,” he drops Dean’s hand and stands up.
“But I want it,” he reaches out for Sam.
“I can’t,” he clears his throat and picks up the tray. “I’ll be back later,” he starts out the door.
“You don’t love me,” Dean’s words are trailing off.
Sam turns back and sighs sadly. “Always,” he whispers and then closes the door.
“Bring me back some pie,” Dean says groggily as the door shuts.
~~~~~~~~~~
The smell of food wakes Dean up. There’s a tray over his bed and Sam’s standing next to it. “Rise and shine,” he’s lifting the lid off a steaming plate of food.
Dean blinks thinking its still a dream but when he opens his eyes again Sam’s still standing there dressed in white with an ID tag that reads; Sam Wesson RN. “So, this is real?” he questions it all out loud.
“As real as reality gets, glad to see the meds have kicked in,” Sam pushes the up button on the bed rail. “And look, I brought you some pie from Ellen Harvelle’s diner across the street not that cardboard they call pie in the cafeteria,” he opens the tiny pie slice shaped box and waves it under Dean’s nose, “Apple.”
“Ellen bakes pies?” he’s laughing but the pie smells delicious.
“Her sign says pies baked fresh daily.”
Dean sits up and starts to pick at the food. He gives Sam a sideways glance. “How long have I been here?”
“Seven months,” Sam sits down next to the bed.
“How did I get here?” he has questions because all of the memories of his life can’t have come from insanity, they’re too real.
“They found you unconscious in a warehouse downtown.”
“Where is here?” he keeps questioning like an amnesia victim.
“Dean you know we’re in Lawrence,” he gives him a stern look.
Dean swallows his bite of food, his heart is racing. “Have my parents been in to see me?” he asks with a shaky voice.
“No, only one visitor in the seven months and he said he was your Uncle Bobby, stayed for about an hour but you kept rambling on about ghosts and demons. You couldn’t hold a normal conversation so he left.”
A tear wells up in Dean’s eye. “Yeah Uncle Bobby, maybe he’ll come back another day. Now I want to try this pie,” he takes a huge bite and tries to stifle down his tears with it.
“It’s okay Dean, you’re always a little bit off your game when you first come out of one of your spells,” Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and kisses his forehead.
Dean’s surprised by the kiss and looks up at him. “We in a relationship?” he asks with a mouthful of pie.
“Kinda,” he smiles. “If hands jobs and make out sessions are a relationship?”
“Isn’t it against the rules to take advantage of someone in a decreased mental state,” he grins shoving another piece of pie in his mouth.
“Not when they basically attack you first,” Sam winks. “My shift is over in a few minutes so you finish your pie and they’ll be in to take your tray. See you in the morning and no getting rough with the night help, I don’t want to find you in the shock therapy room again,” he kisses Dean’s forehead once more and leaves.
“Yes sir,” he salutes Sam.
He waits about fifteen minutes to make sure Sam doesn’t return then gets out of bed. He rummages through the drawers looking for his clothes. He finds his wallet and opens it, his driver’s license says Dean Winchester Lawrence Kansas with an address he doesn’t know. He opens the closet to find his shirt and jeans but no shoes or jacket. “Bastards think I won’t run off without them,” he pulls them out and gets dressed. All he has for shoes are a pair of foam slippers but he figures they’ll do until he can get some other ones. He sneaks out into the hallway; he watches the nurse’s station from around the corner and makes a break for the stairwell. He’s making his way down to the lobby. “I’ll just walk right out.” He makes his way to the door with confidence but when he gets there a strong hand squeezes his shoulder. He looks over and it’s Sam.
“Dean, what am I going to do with you?” he shakes his head. “You have to go back to your room or they’ll put you in confinement for three days like last time.”
“I don’t belong here,” he shoves at Sam and tries to open the door but Sam stops him, pushes him to the ground. The guard runs over but Sam holds up his hand, “I’ve got this,” he puts his arm over Dean’s chest. “Don’t do this,” he says with compassion.
“I’m Dean “fucking” Winchester, you can’t keep me here,” he struggles against Sam’s strong arm. “Something’s wrong Sammy, maybe a trickster or spell but I have to know, have to find out,” he kicks at Sam, tries to knock him out of the way unsuccessfully.
Sam pulls Dean to his feet. “Back to your room,” he drags him struggling and fighting onto the elevator. “Listen to me Dean,” he’s holding him against the wall in a choke hold. “This has to stop, today.”
“Fuck you,” Dean hisses out. “This can’t be real,” he can feel his resolve wavering. “You’re my brother,” his eyes are tearing up.
“I am NOT your brother,” Sam’s trembling. “I love you Dean but I can’t save you from yourself, especially when you’re like this.”
“You don’t save me, I SAVE you,” he tries once more to push away before the elevator doors open.
“It ends now,” Sam drags him to his room, past the nurse’s station.
“Not again,” one of the nurses say as they pass. “I’ll call Dr. Cartwright.”
Sam pushes Dean into the bed and holds him down. “They’re calling Dr. Cartwright, this isn’t going to end well,” he’s struggling to hold Dean while an orderly comes in and straps him down.
“You can’t do this,” Dean keeps insisting.
“We can do anything we want,” the orderly says pulling the straps extra tight.
“That’s enough,” Sam grabs his hands and shoves them off of the leather strap. “I’ll finish it,” he makes the straps tight enough but not too tight.
“I have to…” Sam doesn’t let him finish his sentence. “It’s not what you want; it’s what you have to do. Now lay still and calm down,” Sam doesn’t know what else to do, he’s done everything, tried so hard to help him and to take care of him.
The nurse comes in with a machine and sets it next to the bed.
“Oh God no,” Sam says. “You can’t, he just had some last night, you’ll fry his brain,” he’s begging her.
“Dr. says just a few volts to calm him down and bring him back,” She’s plugging in the machine.
“No, you can’t,” Sam protests, he’s worried, his face is contorted and he grabs Dean’s thigh.
Dean’s not sure what’s happening but Sam’s grip on his thigh and the look on his face has him worried. The nurse puts a band over his head and attaches some wires. He knows what’s about to happen.
“Get the fuck off of me Bitch,” he screams and tries to sit up but his body is strapped down, his hands are useless too.
“Lay still now,” she says as the sound of the buzzing machine starts. “Let go Samuel,” she says pulling his hand away from Dean’s thigh.
“Please no,” he begs one last time.
Dean swallows hard, “I’ll behave,” it comes out like a small child’s plea for less punishment.
The machine beeps and she shoves a rubber bit into Dean’s mouth then presses a button, a wave of heat pulses through Dean’s head and he can’t stop it, his jaw clenches tight, a flash of light covers his eyes like a blinding blanket.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Dean’s eyes fly open and he screams with every ounce of strength in him.
Sam’s sleeping with his head on the laptop, he startles awake and runs over to Dean. He grabs a wet washcloth from a basin on the table. “It’s okay man, its me, I’m here,” he says quietly as he holds Dean down.
“Don’t let them,” Dean pants out. He’s sweating and hot and his mouth is dry.
“No one is going to hurt you, I’m here,” Sam wipes his head with the damp cloth. “Shhh it’s alright,” Sam rubs Dean’s forehead.
Dean’s eyes focus on Sam. He’s dressed in his usual flannel shirt and his fingertips feel rough with calluses as they dance over Dean’s forehead. He looks around and he’s in a darkly lit motel room, the smell of old cigarettes and beer lingering in the air. “Sam?” he questions wearily.
“Yeah,” he can’t believe Dean’s awake.
“Where am I?” he’s confused.
“I brought you back to the motel after you went unconscious,” he’s still stroking Dean’s head.
Dean’s head lulls to the side. “I’m dreaming,” he sighs.
“What, no,” Sam’s confused. “You’re here with me, right now,” he lifts him up in his arms. “Feel me, I’m real.”
Dean’s arms wrap around Sam holding him tight. “I need to be sure,” he whispers.
“You can’t get any more real than this.”
He lies back down, his dry tongue running over his parched lips. “I need a drink.”
Sam gets him a glass of water and slowly gives him a few sips. “You’ve been out for two days, you haven’t been conscious for more than a few seconds and even then you weren’t coherent.”
“What happened, I mean I remember that thing attacking us, you on the floor and then a dreamland of some sorts, a pretty fucked up dreamland too.”
“That thing, turned out to be a Djinn, it touched you and out you went, after you were down I managed to kill it but you’ve been out of it ever since. I was just waiting for it to wear off but you just seemed to keep going deeper.”
“So a djinn,” his head is fuzzy and he feels like he’s going to throw up. “It’s real,” he’s not sure what is happening, not sure where he really is. His eyes are glassy and he can feel reality slipping away as if a curtain is pulled over his eyes. Darkness keeps creeping in and out like a light switch is being slowly flicked on and off.
Sam sees that he’s losing consciousness and he shakes him. “Stay with me Dean, stay here Dean, come on don’t..” his words slip away as he watches Dean flicker, his eyes rolling back in his head and his body goes limp. “No Dean, No,” he cries out as he holds him tight.
He lays him down and curls up beside him, his body so close he can hear the slow steady rhythm of his heart. Sam doesn’t know what to do, how to save him, how to stop this. He’s not sure if Dean’s in a world built by the djinn or if he’s silently unconscious, all he can do is wait.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Dean’s head is pounding and throbbing, his neck hurts and his jaw feels like steel. When he opens his eyes he sees Sam reading a book while waiting patiently by his bedside. “How long?” he asks, his voice is raw and cracking.
Sam looks up and smiles. “A few hours, not long at all,” he puts his book down. “I’m sorry, I feel like it’s my fault,” he touches Dean’s arm.
“It’s not your fault, I have to learn the rules,” he blinks a few times and twists his head like he’s adjusting his neck. “You’d think I’d learn or something. You know, like the rat with the food bowls or whatever,” he tries to move but he’s still strapped down.
Sam laughs quietly at that statement, “Something like that.”
“You think I could get up and use the head?” he wiggles his arms a little. “Kinda hard to go like this, unless I am wearing a diaper and then, its all systems go,” he actually gives a small chuckle at that.
“No, no diaper,” Sam undoes his straps and helps him to the bathroom. “I’ll just wait out here,” he looks kind of embarrassed and for what reason he’s not really sure.
“Yeah, I don’t need help holding it, right now anyway,” Dean winks.
It’s silent in the bathroom; the cool tile on his feet is in a strange way consoling. He’s trying to understand what’s going on and he knows he has to play by the rules now because that’s the only thing that’s going to keep him from having more current pumped through his noggin.
“Want a snack?” Sam asks.
“I could eat something, what you got?”
Sam pulls a bag of licorice out of his backpack. “Twizzlers,” he waves the pack at Dean.
Dean’s eyes light up. “Man after my own heart,” he reaches for the bag but Sam pulls it away.
“There’s a price,” he makes his resolve face that Dean knows as his bitch face.
“And what would that be?” he’s weary of any strings.
“Behave yourself tonight, I want to go home and sleep until I have to come back in the morning,” he lays the twizzlers on the tray table.
“Why did you wait for me?” he needs to know what is going on in this man’s head, the head that he thinks should be on his brother’s shoulders.
“We’re friends and I worry about you,” he reaches over and squeezes Dean’s knee with a loving grip.
Dean looks at the long fingers squeezing his knee. “Friends don’t touch friends like you’re touching me,” he looks over into Sam’s eyes. “You told me we’ve touched each other sexually, what do you feel for me?” he wants to know all of these thoughts swimming in his head aren’t real, all the things he remembers are figments of an over active imagination because he feels things for this man, this tall man he thinks looks exactly like his brother from these memories.
Sam looks over at the door to make sure no one is there and lowers the volume of his voice to just above a whisper. “Yes Dean, I care for you, I am attracted to you and we’ve been intimate in minor ways. Very heavy petting, make-out session types of ways.”
There is a twinge in Dean’s chest; it’s a feeling he’s only ever felt with his brother. That feeling he gets when Sammy touches his skin at night when they are being intimate, when they are staring into each others eyes and the need and want floods over them to the point that they can’t stop it.
He slips his hand over Sam’s and squeezes it in return. Their eyes are locked in a knowing gaze and Dean smiles. “I want to remember everything with you,” Dean wants to lean forward and kiss him, see if he tastes like Sammy, see if he responds like Sammy and know for sure if this is truly reality.
Sam pulls his hand away, he knows what Dean wants and he wants it too. He wants to kiss him, show him how much he cares but he can’t, “not here, not now, it’s not safe.”
A tall dark haired woman in a trench coat carrying a medical chart walks into the room. “So Dean,” she says very sternly.
“Dr. Cartwright,” Sam says standing up.
Dean remembers her, she’s the face that told him it was for his own safety but he didn’t know who she was. This is the woman who ordered his skull pumped full of electricity. He doesn’t like her right away. “Present,” he says with attitude. Sam gives him a dark glare.
“You’ve been a very bad patient,” she cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head as she reads the chart. “Trying to escape tonight and only hours after having a severe mental break,” she makes a tsk tsk tsk noise before sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.
“I guess I’ve been a very bad boy, are you going to spank me? Oh wait you already pumped me full of electricity,” he says harshly.
“And if you’re not careful I’ll sedate you, so choose your tone with me wisely,” she glares at him. “I don’t put up with insubordination lightly.”
Sam clears his throat nervously. “I was just going to take Dean for a little walk to strengthen his legs up again, he’s still a little shaky from the treatment, Doctor.”
She looks Dean up and down. “We have an appointment tomorrow, don’t miss it this time or I’ll come down personally and get you,” she looks at Sam. “Keep an eye on him, he’s a squirmy one,” she stands up to leave but turns around and looks directly into Dean’s eyes. “You’re going to have to get with the program or I have a solitary room ready for you at all times,” she turns on the very high heels she’s wearing and clicks down the hall.
“She’s scary,” he makes an oops face. “I better be a good boy or she might whip me, while wearing high heels and a black leather corset.”
“Don’t push her Dean, you know full well what she’s capable of and you have the scars on your temples to prove it. Now get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What about my walk?”
“You don’t need one, you’re fine. Now eat your twizzlers and go to bed,” he squeezes Dean’s shoulder before heading out the door.
Dean smiles for the first time since he’s not sure when. Sam makes him feel safe and it’s a familiar feeling, something that he knows has no basis but it’s like they’ve known each other forever and have had each other’s backs for as long.
~~~~~~~~~~
Flashes of light invade Dean’s dreams, the warm feel of someone tight against his body. A hand snakes around his waist and cups him so gently that it’s tender and warm, this half embrace of kindness and love. There’s hot breath on his neck and searing skin against his back underneath cool sheets. Legs entwined like knotted branches of a twisted tree, long feet resting on his calves and it all feels so surreal and real at the same time.
Sleep is restless and comfortable simultaneously. His mind races with images and thoughts, memories of things that couldn’t have happened but feel like they must have been real.
When he wakes up the sun hasn’t come up yet, his body aches and feels like he’s been through a war. His mouth is dry, he’s sweating and the sheets are soaked. He stumbles out of bed and into the tiny bathroom where he turns on the cold water splashing it on his face. The cool refreshing shock of it is soothing. He stares at his wet face in the mirror; his freckles stand out as they pepper his pale cheeks. His green eyes look sunken and tired; they have dark circles under them. He’s kind of shocked to see what he looks like but then again, he doesn’t expect much better after what he’s been through.
He runs a finger over his temple feeling the semi circle scar imprinted there from his treatments as his torturers call them. The small red half moon that outlines the white semi circle is fresh and he rubs at it and thinks, this is gonna leave a mark too.
The light over the sink starts to flash and his eyes get blurry from the strobe like action. He wobbles on his feet and the dizziness sets in, he falls to the floor with a shooting pain straight through his temple, like a knife to the brain.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Dean, Dean,” Sam’s shouting as he shakes him. Dean’s mumbling, he’s sweating and shaking and Sam’s afraid he’ll convulse again.
He runs to the bathroom and gets cold damp towels to put on his face and neck, he wants to cool him down and hopefully stop the brain fever he’s been having from poison.
It’s been several hours; Sam actually forgets time these days because taking care of Dean is the most important thing in his life. Dean’s fever is down, the shaking has stopped and he’s resting comfortably.
Sam is curled up next to him when Dean’s eyes flutter open, he looks over at Sam. “Dean,” Sam sits up and leans over him.
“Sammy,” his mouth is dry and he can barely form the word.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Sam’s smiling as he caresses Dean’s forehead.
“What, where am I?”
“You’re with me in the motel, we’ve been here for a few days now,” he gets him a glass of water and helps him to sit up.
Dean grunts with the painful aches in his joints. “Am I dreaming?” It all feels so surreal; he can’t believe he’s not dreaming this.
Sam holds him up and feeds him the water and few pills that Bobby found that he hopes might help. “Here take these,” he puts the pills in his mouth and then gives him the water. Dean obediently swallows them.
“Yuck, what is in those things, they taste like poison,” he drinks the water down quickly to wash the taste away.
“Hemlock and fox slipper, they’re counteragents to venoms. Bobby thinks they might help.
“Was I bitten by something?” he’s confused as to what’s going on.
“Dean, you were infected by a Djinn,” he’s making soothing circles over Dean’s back.
Dean sits straight up, he’s confused, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he looks at Sam and sees a man, a man who he’s not sure who he is. “Tell me, are you my brother?” he asks in a panic.
Sam looks at him in disbelief, “I am,” he says cautiously.
“But you’re Sam Wesson, aren’t you?”
“No Dean, I’m Sam Winchester, just like you are Dean Winchester,” he gives him the most earnest look he can. “We’re brothers.”
Dean shakes his head. “Can’t be, I don’t have a brother, I’m dreaming this, you aren’t real,” he holds his head as tears start to roll down his face.
“I’m real,” Sam’s worried, Dean seems inconsolable. “Here,” he pulls him close, “feel this,” Sam hugs Dean tight, his arms wrapped around him, cradling him, trying to comfort him.
“How can this be real,” Dean’s sobbing, his mind feels broken, he can’t distinguish reality from fantasy anymore. “Is this real or is this just a cruel dream?”
Sam turns to him and looks into his eyes. “I’m real and I love you,” he leans forward and kisses Dean’s lips with a soft gentle kiss. Dean starts to give in to the feelings and return Sam’s kiss but then abruptly pulls away. He’s shocked, and his hands are trembling.
“No,” he cries out. “It can’t be real, I can’t be in love with my brother,” he pushes away, his heart racing a mile a minute, more pain shooting through his head like sparks of electricity. He’s scrambling across the bed. Sam’s heart is breaking, he knows it’s the poison but still it hurts, between what Dean’s going through and to be rejected like this, it feels like too much.
“I don’t know how to convince you,” he gets up and walks over to the chair across the room. “I guess I can’t.”
Dean’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “What is wrong with me,” he looks up to the heavens. “Help me, please, please help me,” he’s crying, tears streaming down his face. He walks over to Sam and falls down in front of him, he leans his head on his knees. “I’m so broken, how can I be so broken?” Sam rubs his head in a consoling manner.
“Shhh, it’s alright Dean, it’s alright,” Sam wants to cure him, save him, bring him back but he doesn’t know how to do it. “You need your rest,” he says helping Dean back to bed. He tucks him in and sits on the edge of the bed. Dean takes hold of Sam’s arm.
“Don’t leave me,” he begs in a shaky voice.
“Never,” Sam says taking his hand and interlacing their fingers together. It’s comforting to Dean and makes him feel safe.
Sam calls Bobby and tells him what seems to be going on, how Dean’s confused and not sure what reality is, how he’s afraid he’s losing him to insanity if they don’t find a cure and fast.
It’s not long before the pain starts in Dean’s head again, the flashes of light, the sharp stabbing pain in his temples and it’s unbearable.
~~~~~~~~~~
PART 2