Light Side of the Moon

I was watching "Dark Side of the Moon" the other day, and this popped into my head.

Dean struggled to open his eyes, fighting off his slumber. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on some type of ground, surrounded by fog. Dean frowned as he sat up, looking around.

I went to sleep in a motel next to Sam's bed, right?

Dean stood up, looking around. The fog seemed to have to end in sight.

"What the hell?" muttered Dean.

A familiar voice laughed a little. "Far from it."

Dean spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. "Sam?" He looked around, but he couldn't see his brother. "Where are you?"

"Right here," said Sam.

Dean spun around to see Sam standing directly behind him. Dean looked around Sam. "Where did you come from?"

Sam spread his arms wide. "Around."

Dean frowned. "What?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Dean looked around at the fog. "Where are we?"

"In my head," Sam replied.

Dean looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Beg pardon?"

"We're in my head, Dean," Sam told him.

"So, what, your psychic crap is acting up again?"

"No, it has absolutely nothing to do with my psychic whatever."

"Then how do you explain the murky crystal ball we're standing in?"

"A remembrance spell," answered Sam.

"A remembrance spell?" clarified Dean. Sam nodded. "So, we got jumped by a witch in the middle of the night?"

"No, I did this."

Dean stared at him. "You wanna run that by me again?"

"I did the spell."

"Why?"

"To show you the truth."

"What truth?"

"I remember, Dean," said Sam. Dean frowned. "I remember everything."

Dean shrugged. "Okay, I'll bite."

"When Joshua brought us back, he made us remember our time in heaven, right?" said Sam. Dean nodded. "Well, I remember the others."

"What others?"

"The other times I went to heaven."

Dean's eyes widened. "You do?"

"I take it you don't."

"No."

"I figured that much. It's probably my psychic thing. I remember the other times I was in heaven."

Dean spread his arm. "Well, I don't see what your whacked out idea of heaven has to do with me."

"Those memories you saw…they weren't my only ones."

"You mean, you have a whole life full of memories? I thought your life consisted of only those three."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Very funny. I meant, I lived other memories…ones you didn't get to see. You only saw those because we were busy looking for the garden. But before…I had a longer time to stroll down memory lane. I lived many other memories."

"And you couldn't have just told me this? You had to pull out all the stops?"

"Oh, come on. You and I both know you wouldn't have believed me without proof." Dean opened his mouth to object. "Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, shifting on his feet. "Yeah, you're probably right. So, what now?"

"Now, I show you what my heaven really is."

Sam reached forward and grasped Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes and concentrating. Dean and Sam found themselves in a motel room. Another Sam was lying in one of the motel beds under the covers, wearing a gray t-shirt. He looked a little younger than the Sam standing next to Dean.

Sam looked at the motel room. "This was one of the previous trips to heaven…just before I woke up."

"In other words, just after you died," said Dean. Sam nodded as they watched.

Past Sam's eyes fluttered on the bed, and he opened them, sitting up with a gasp. His hands immediately reached for his back, feeling along his spine.

Dean nodded, realizing. "Cold Oak."

"Yeah," said Sam.

Past Sam froze with one hand up the back of his shirt, frowning. He looked around at the motel room, taking in his surroundings. "What the hell?"

"Sammy?"

Past Sam, Dean and Sam looked over to see Dean at eight years old standing at the kitchen doorway. Past Sam's eyes widened as he stared at Little Dean.

"Are you okay?" asked Little Dean.

"Dean?" asked Past Sam.

Little Dean walked over to the bed and stood next to it. "You had another nightmare?" Past Sam just stared at Little Dean, stunned. "It's okay, Sammy." Little Dean climbed up onto the bed, sitting next to Past Sam and wrapping his little arms around his brother. "I'll protect you."

Past Sam sat in stunned silence for a moment before wrapping his own arms around the younger boy.

"It'll be okay," said Little Dean. "I'm here." Past Sam buried his face in Little Dean's shoulder, embracing his brother. Little Dean pulled away from Past Sam, looking at him. "Tell you what? How about some ice cream?"

Past Sam stared at the little boy, still stunned.

"Don't worry," said Little Dean. "Dad's not here this week, remember? We can do whatever we want. I'll go make you some."

Little Dean got off the bed and headed for the kitchen. Past Sam pulled the blankets back, standing up. He was wearing plaid pajama pants. He walked over to the calendar hung on the wall.

Past Sam frowned. "1987?" He looked towards the kitchen, eyes widening. "I remember this."

Little Dean poked his head out from the kitchen. "Hey, you want chocolate syrup?"

Past Sam looked over at Little Dean and smiled. "Sure. That'd be great."

"Alright," said Little Dean. "I'm gonna break out the whip cream and sprinkles, too."

Past Sam smiled as Little Dean went back into the kitchen. Past Sam walked around the room, looking at the small effects the Winchesters had scattered around it. A couple of newspaper clippings here, a few lore books there…He stopped at the table, spotting a page from a coloring book. It was obviously colored by a four-year-old. At the top, it read: "To Dean, From Sammy." Past Sam smiled as he looked up at the kitchen. He suddenly looked around the room with a new look on his face. He put a hand on his back where he'd been stabbed in Cold Oak.

Past Sam's eyes widened as realization hit him. "I'm dead…"

Little Dean walked out, carrying two bowls of ice cream. He set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Come on," said Little Dean, pulling a blanket off the couch.

Past Sam walked over to the couch and sat down. Little Dean immediately covered Past Sam with the blanket, tucking it in. He passed the ice cream bowl to Past Sam, making sure he had a hold of it before starting a movie: Peter Pan. Little Dean sat down next to Past Sam, starting in on his bowl of ice cream.

Past Sam smiled at Little Dean. "Thanks, Dean."

Little Dean obviously didn't hear him; it wasn't part of the memory. But it didn't matter. Past Sam looked content to say it anyway. He glanced over at the wall near the bathroom, spotting something. He frowned as he set his bowl on the coffee table, pulling the blanket off of him. He walked over to a crate against the wall, kneeling in front of it.

"I don't remember this," said Past Sam, looking closer.

The crate was full of fireworks. A car door slammed shut, and Past Sam jumped, looking up. He was no longer in the motel room, but at the trunk of the Impala. He looked around. It was nighttime, and he was on an empty road. He was now wearing jeans, tennis shoes and a gray jacket.

"Let's go, squirt. Shake a leg."

Past Sam looked around the trunk to see a seventeen-year-old Dean standing at the driver's door of the Impala. Past Sam looked down at the fireworks crate and then up at the field next to them. His eyes widened as he realized what was going on.

"Oh, no way," said Dean, watching. "Fourth of July, 1996?"

Sam smiled, nodding. "Definitely."

Past Sam closed the trunk, carrying the crate with him and slipping into his role. "Come on, let's go."

He and Past Dean walked into the middle of the field. Past Sam set the crate down on the grass, looking up at Past Dean.

"Got your lighter?" he asked.

"Yep," said Past Dean. He fished in his jacket pocket, pulling out a lighter.

Past Sam grabbed two fireworks, walking over to Past Dean. "Fire 'em up."

Past Dean held his lighter to the fireworks. Once they were lit, Past Sam held one up while Past Dean held the other up. They went off, shooting sparks into the sky. The two of them smiled as the fireworks burned themselves out.

Past Sam turned towards Past Dean, still playing his part. "Dad would never let us do anything like this." He walked over and embraced Past Dean. "Thanks, Dean. This is great."

Past Dean awkwardly patted Past Sam on the back. "Alright, Samantha. That's enough."

Past Sam laughed and pulled away from Past Dean, heading over the crate and lighting all of the fireworks. "Fire in the hole!" He ran back to Past Dean as the fireworks went off, shooting into the sky.

Past Dean looked over at the ground near the fireworks. Sam and Dean knew he was watching fourteen-year-old Sam run around in the sparks. Past Sam looked over at Past Dean, spotting something behind him. Past Sam headed for the trees, approaching a counter that was built into the ground. He stood at the counter, frowning.

"Hey, what's your problem?" asked Past Dean.

Past Sam turned to see he was standing in a diner. Past Dean was holding two cups of coffee behind Past Sam, and was looking Past Sam up and down. Past Sam looked around at the diner, adjusting the shoulder strap on his laptop. Past Sam was wearing a white button-down shirt, jeans and a brown jacket. Past Dean was wearing jeans, a black shirt and a blue jacket.

"I don't recognize this," muttered Past Sam. "I don't think."

Continuing with the memory, Past Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" Past Sam looked at him, trying to suss out which memory he was living. Past Dean shrugged and moved to an empty table, setting down the coffees. Past Sam followed him. "Alright, so keep going. What about these tulpas?"

Past Sam nodded, realizing where he was. "The hell house…in Texas…of course." He sat down next to Past Dean, who was looking at him, apparently listening to his story about the hunt.

"So?" said Past Dean.

Past Sam just sat there, staring at Dean. He quickly became aware of the itching in his pants. "Oh, great."

"Okay, wait a second," said Past Dean. "You're trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

"Maybe," said Past Sam, filling in what he could. He pulled out his laptop, setting it in front of Past Dean.

"People believe in Santa Claus," said Past Dean. "How come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"'Cause you're a bad person," said Past Sam. He turned the computer to Past Dean. "Alright, there's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. It concentrates meditative thoughts, bringing them to life. People go on the website, stare at the symbol and bring the tulpa to life."

"It would explain why he keeps changing," said Past Dean.

"Right," said Past Sam. "As the legend changes, Mordechai changes." He couldn't remember what came next.

"Yeah, 'cause he's not a traditional spirit, per se," said Past Dean.

"Oh, right, the rock salt," said Past Sam.

"Okay, so, uh, why don't we just get this spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?" said Past Dean.

Dean looked at Sam. "This? This is a happy memory? We're just sitting at a diner talking about a hunt."

"Just…wait," said Sam, exasperated.

"Well, once tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own," said Past Sam.

"Great," said Past Dean. "All right, so, if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, these guys aren't making it easy," said Past Sam. "Check it out. The number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," said Past Dean. "I got an idea. Come on."

Past Sam shut the laptop, climbing to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"I gotta find a copy store," said Past Dean.

Knowing what came next, Past Sam smiled a little as he shifted on his feet. "Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something." Past Dean laughed as he walked away. "You did this?" Past Dean laughed again, looking at Past Sam for a moment. "You're a frigging jerk!"

"Oh, yeah!" called Past Dean, pumping a fist into the air. Past Sam grabbed his things and walked after Past Dean.

Dean looked at Sam. "This? Really? Me putting itching powder in your shorts is a happy memory for you?"

"Well…yeah," said Sam. "I mean…it's us…being brothers again."

Dean smiled as they followed Past Sam out the door. They found themselves on a road in front of a small cabin. Past Sam was wearing jeans, a jacket and a white button-down shirt.

"Oh, great, this again," said Dean, recognizing the cabin.

"Just go along with it," said Sam as they followed Past Sam through the cabin door. He stood at the table in the living room, looking down at a packed bag by the couch.

"You wanna tell me what the hell this is?"

Past Sam looked over at one of the bedroom doorways to see John in it, holding up a letter. Past Sam stared at John, eyes wide. "Dad?"

"You wanna tell me what you're doing with a college acceptance letter?" asked John. "And why they plan to see you first thing Monday morning?"

Past Sam walked towards John, staring at him. "Dad, I just…I want to tell you that I'm sorry, and—"

"Sam, you don't have to tell me how smart you are or what a great opportunity this is," said John. "What I want to know is why you're abandoning us."

Past Sam looked down at the floor, knowing anything he said would fall on deaf ears. He couldn't make amends with his father if his father was just a memory.

"So, you were just gonna leave?" said John. "Is that it?"

"Dad, I'm so sorry for making you think that I hate you," said Past Sam. "I don't. It's just that—"

"She was your mother, Sam," said John. "And now you're dishonoring her by abandoning the mission to find her killer?"

Past Sam now looked at his father, falling into the role in the memory. "Dishonoring? I'm not dishonoring anything."

"Then what do you call this?" asked John, waving his hand at the packed bag by the couch.

"What's going on?" asked Past Dean, walking into the room.

"Your brother's deserting us, that's what," said John, showing Past Dean the Stanford acceptance letter.

Past Dean looked down at his feet. "I know."

John looked over at him. "You know?"

Past Dean nodded. "I found the letter last week."

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" asked John.

"It was Sam's place to tell you," said Past Dean.

John looked down at the letter and then up at Past Sam. "No. No, I'm not letting you."

"And how are you gonna stop me?" said Past Sam. He looked reluctant to fight with his father.

"I am your father," said John, getting in Past Sam's face. "Now you do what I say."

"You can't tell me what to do!" said Past Sam.

"Yes, I can!" said John.

"You think this is what Mom would've wanted?" said Past Sam. "Her sons getting hauled around on back roads, not getting to live their lives? If anything, I'm honoring her memory by living my dream."

"You are not leaving your brother and me behind!" said John. "Now, unpack your bag right now!"

"No!" said Past Sam.

"You heard what I said," said John, grabbing the front of Past Sam's jacket.

"I'm going, and you can't stop me!" said Past Sam, shoving John's hands off of him, grabbing his bag and heading for the door, looking sick to his stomach at having to relive this memory. He froze when John began talking again.

"You walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" said John.

Past Sam looked back at John with a sad look on his face. He turned and left the cabin, heading towards the road. He stopped at the edge of the road, looking back at the cabin. He looked to be waiting for something.

"I still don't see where this is happy," said Dean.

"Wait for it," said Sam.

Past Dean walked out of the cabin. "Sammy, wait!" He ran up to Past Sam. The moment he had appeared, Past Sam had smiled, knowing he would come out to him. "Look, uh…I'm not saying you're right by leaving us, but…" He shifted on his feet. "Why don't I give you a ride to the bus stop?"

Past Sam smiled, nodding. "Thanks, Dean." He began walking back to the Impala with Dean.

Dean looked at Sam. "I don't get it."

Sam smiled. "Despite the fact that I was basically deserting you, you still offered to give me a ride…you still wanted to take care of me."

Dean looked at Sam, seeing it all in a whole new light.

Past Sam sat down in the passenger seat of the Impala. He looked over to see Past Dean in different clothes. Past Dean was wearing a gray t-shirt, dark red long sleeve button-down that was open and jeans. Past Sam looked down at himself to see jeans and a striped button-down shirt. Past Dean was already driving, and it was day now. Dean and Sam sat in the back seat, watching. Music was playing on the Impala's speakers.

"Back in black! I hit the sack. I've been too long. I'm glad to be back. Yes, I'm let loose from the noose that's kept me hanging about. I keep looking at the sky 'cause it's getting me high. Forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes, using every one of them and running wild."

"Woo!" said Past Dean suddenly, a huge smile on his face. "Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?" Past Sam laughed as he watched Past Dean. Past Dean leaned forward, patting the dashboard. "Ah, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us."

Past Sam slipped easily into his role. "You're in a good mood."

"Why shouldn't I be?" said Past Dean.

"No reason," said Past Sam, shrugging.

"Got my car…got a case," said Past Dean. "Things are looking up."

"Wow…" said Past Sam. "Give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mr. Sunshine."

Past Dean smiled. "How far to Red Lodge?"

Past Sam looked out the windshield. "Uh, about another three hundred miles."

Past Dean smiled. "Good." He hit the gas, speeding down the road.

Past Sam watched Past Dean, smiling as he enjoyed his afterlife.

The area around Sam and Dean grew foggy again, and Dean closed his eyes against the confusing sight.

When he opened them again, he was lying in the motel room. He sat up and looked over at Sam, who sat up on the other bed.

"Alright, Sam, I get your point," said Dean. "You actually do have a nice heaven." Sam smiled. "But next time…you can just tell me."

Sam laughed. "Okay. Just as long as you promise you'll actually believe me."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, okay." He looked down at his chest, noticing the absence of the amulet he'd always worn. Now, he regretted his decision to throw it away at their last motel. It was a decision he'd made in haste and now he wished he'd never done it.

What was I thinking?

"Looking for this?" asked Sam.

Dean looked over to see Sam holding up his amulet. "You sneaky little bitch."

Sam smiled. "You're welcome, jerk."

Dean accepted the amulet, hanging it around his neck where its rightful place was.