Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: I wrote this for Medusa- the writer who gave a prompt at the Summer of Sam Love LiveJournal Community. The prompt is presented at the end of the story.
I Lár Báire
The first thing that Sam noticed was that he was slumped over on a damp, dirty surface and that his head was throbbing. He could hear someone yelling in the distance—they might have been yelling at him—he couldn't be sure.
Sam tried to concentrate on the voice more and heard his name being called.
That couldn't be right Sam thought to himself. He was hunting solo. Had been hunting solo ever since Dean…
It still ached to think of his big brother. Sam knew all about the old saying 'time will heal all wounds' but as time went by, there was no healing the pain of Dean's death.
Intellectually, Sam knew that, in their line of work, the possibility of dying was always present and they had been lucky for as long as possible. Hell, it had been Dean himself who had defied Death back in Nebraska two years before. It was bound to happen one way or another. But he and Dean both had thought that Death would come and take one of them in a blaze of heroic glory. Instead Death came and took Dean, not by hell or its hellhounds but in a very human incident—he was shot in the heart by a mad man.
Pain pieced through his thoughts as Sam groaned and closed his eyes. God, his head hurt so badly. The voice was still yelling his name, getting more desperate with each yell. Sam wanted nothing more than to tell whomever it was to just shut up and leave him alone.
But in order to do that, Sam would have to sit up and face whomever was yelling or at least try to look to see what direction they were yelling from.
His mind made up, Sam started to sit up. It wasn't easy because just the slightest movement brought on a wave of dizziness. He let out a groan as he managed to get himself fairly upright. Luckily for him, a tree stump was placed conveniently behind him. As he straightened his battered body, Sam realized that he was in a forest. It was probably almost dusk since everything around him glittered and shimmered with a silvery sheen.
As Sam took in his surroundings, he realized that the voice had stopped yelling.
It now spoke in a calmer voice, "Sam, are you okay?"
Sam turned his head in the voice's direction, where his eyes met familiar greenish-brown eyes. He knew those eyes and he had thought that he would never see them again.
"D'n?" He slurred the word a little, an obvious sign that he had a concussion. "What…are…you… doing…here? It's early—I haven't started partying with Jim, Jack, and Jose just yet. "
Sam reached a hand out towards Dean and as he did, Dean's form flickered a tiny bit before settling into a solid form once again. Sam shook his head, clutching it as he got a dizzy spell.
Sam groaned again. "My head really hurts. Where are we?"
Sam looked around, really noticing the forest of trees around them. All the trees still seemed to shimmer and sparkle with a silvery glow. He had never seen these effects happen at dusk before. This was more than the falling of dusk; this was something else entirely.
Sam frowned, trying to make sense of it. Why was he seeing everything shimmer with silver?
Maybe it was the head wound, but it suddenly struck him as humorous. Sam giggled. "Everything is so shiny. Dean, you look like one of those Twilight vamps. You're all sparkly."
He reached out, trying again to touch Dean's arm. Sam gasped as he grabbed a hold Dean's arm. It was solid flesh and blood.
"Dean, you're really here. Man. This is really vivid dream. I guess that I hit my head hard enough. I never thought that I would love having a concussion. Where are we by the way?"
Dean sighed. "Sam, relax, this isn't a dream. Although I'm not quite sure where we are. I think that we're in the forest next to the Irish-American town you found the hunt in—Evergreen Park. Don't you remember?"
Groaning and holding his head, Sam replied shakily, "No, Dean. I don't remember. The last thing I remember is being alone in the motel room, preparing for the hunt. I was hunting a Leanan Sidhe, you know, the beautiful woman who gives inspiration to young musicians and artists in exchange for their life force."
"Shh, Sam. You've got to calm down. I think that we should call someone and get you some help."
As Dean talked, he gently moved Sam so he could reach Sam's cell. As soon as he found it, Dean opened the cell to call for help.
Sam groaned a little, trying to stay awake because he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, Dean would disappear. Hallucination or not, this was one fantasy Sam was more than happy to keep.
"Dean, just don't call Bobby. Anyone but him," Sam whispered, exhausted from his injuries.
Dean shook his head. "I can't do that, Sammy. I think that he's the best choice. He'll be able to get us help for you. Getting you help is the most important thing."
Sam shook his head weakly, which sent his head dizzily spinning. "Dean. NO! I don't want you to call him."
Dean laid his hand on Sam's shoulder, making him lie down and trying to calm him at the same time. With the other hand, Dean dialed Bobby's number. He put the cell to his ear, listening for the tone that indicated that the call went through. But there was no ringing tone.
Sam feebly turned his head to look at Dean and saw the confusion on Dean's face as he stared at the phone in his hand.
"What's wrong, Dean?" he asked. "Bobby not answering?"
There was nothing more that Sam wanted than Bobby not answering Dean's call. He couldn't talk to Bobby because no matter what Sam wanted to do, Bobby always tried to talk him out of it. Bobby had tried to be supportive-at first, anyway. In the months since Dean's death, the older hunter had gotten increasingly difficult to deal with. Sam understood it-he really did-but that didn't mean that it made it any easier to deal with. Bobby wanted him to accept Dean's death, move on. But Sam couldn't accept it-not ever-and if Bobby couldn't understand that, then Bobby couldn't understand Sam.
Dean shook his head. "No. There's something wrong with the cell. It says that it's calling Bobby but there's no tone. We need to get you help and this damn cell isn't much help."
Sam, seeing how frustrated his brother was getting, sat up and gestured to Dean to hand him the cell. "Let me try."
Sam tried to place a call and it also never went through despite what the display said. He wasn't sure what was happening but clearly calling for help wasn't going to happen if they stayed here. They could be out of cell range, except Sam knew that a recent demand for more telephone wires for internet usage made it unlikely, but it still was a possibility especially due to the fact that they were in a forest. Or maybe it had to do with all the silvery glowing auras that he was seeing everywhere.
"I don't know what is wrong with it," Sam said, shaking his head. "Maybe it is out of cell range but that doesn't explain why it says that it is working. It could have something to do with the shimmering glow I'm seeing everywhere."
"It's probably just your concussion, Sam, and that's why you're seeing this shimmering glow all over. Trust me, there is no shimmering glow," Dean replied.
Noticing that Sam winced as he handed the cell back, Dean immediately made Sam lie back down.
"You just stay there and don't move a muscle while I sort something out," Dean reassured Sam.
Sam watched his brother move away from him towards the trees, supposedly to figure a way to get him some help. Sam had no idea what Dean would come up with but knowing his big brother like he did—he had no doubt that Dean would figure something out.
On the other hand, Sam knew that Dean wouldn't just dismiss his admission about the glowing light. Dean would have taken it more seriously probably if it weren't for Sam's concussion. Sam's big brother was known to have a one-track mind about a lot of things, with Sam's safety being at the top of the list.
Confident in Dean's abilities to get him some help, Sam decided to give his battered body a break and closed his eyes.
Unfortunately for Sam, it was not his lucky day since just as he fell into a deep sleep, he was awaken by the feeling of wetness dripping down his face on to the ground. He must have pulled on the healing wound in his sleep.
Sam knew that he needed help since more bleeding was never a good sign so he glanced around for Dean. He spotted him standing a short distance away, looking down at something in his hand.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, hoping that one shout would be enough to get his brother's attention.
Dean rushed back to Sam's side, swearing a little under his breath at the sight of Sam's head wound, which had just opened up and more blood was trailing down Sam's face.
Putting his hand on the head wound firmly but gently, Dean looked around to see what he could use to stop the bleeding. He spotted Sam's hunting gear and found some torn cloth that looked clean.
"Hold on for me, Sammy," Dean whispered to Sam as he held the cloth to Sam's head, trying in vain to stop the bleeding.
"Dean, help!" Sam slurred as his body lost more blood. Watching Dean trying to stop the bleeding with unfocused, half-opened eyes, Sam lost his battle with consciousness.
"Hey, man, you've got to open your eyes for me so that I can see that you're okay."
Sam blearily opened his eyes to the sight of Dean tapping his face, trying to wake him. Sam noticed that Dean's hands felt different. They weren't as calloused and big; rather they were smooth to the touch and smaller than Sam remembered.
"D'n," Sam said as he tried to finish clawing his way back to full consciousness.
"Shhh, you're okay," Dean's voice tried to reassure Sam.
Sighing quietly, accepting that Dean was there and would take care of him, Sam closed his eyes. Sam felt the safest he had ever been. Only Dean could make him feel this safe.
Gentle hands applied a smelly cream-like substance on Sam's various wounds before covering Sam's torso with a blanket. Huddling under the much needed warmth, it occurred to Sam that he hadn't packed a blanket with his hunting gear or that he had packed anything else besides the barest essentials in the first aid kit—not since Dean had died. With only him hunting, Sam had stopped carrying all the amenities and kept his supplies to the minimum for efficiency's sake.
So where had the blanket come from? Where were they anyway? The questions plagued Sam, and he felt the sudden need to figure them out.
But it was just so warm and the gentle hands were combing through his hair, soothing him to sleep.
Sam was almost completely asleep when he felt strong arms lift him up in a bridal hold.
"Dean?" he mumbled.
"Shh…I'm getting you some help. Just relax, okay?" Dean's voice replied. For some reason, Dean's voice didn't sound right to Sam either. He knew the different nuances of his big brother's voice and this voice didn't have them and sounded slightly less deep than Dean's voice.
Sam tried to claw his way back to full consciousness but found that he couldn't. Once again, Sam lost his battle with consciousness. He didn't even notice a second pair of hands help support Dean's hold of him.
The first thing that Sam noticed as he regained consciousness was that he was not lying on the hard ground in the forest, but on a cushiony and comfortable surface.
Sam opened his eyes to see that he was lying on a bed situated in a large room. Sam slowly sat up to glance around and for a slight second, he thought he saw that the walls were made of big, dark stones before they returned to a more contemporary look with white-washed walls plaster.
The room itself was fairly big and contained most basic living necessities. Near Sam's bed, there stood a table that had all sorts of medical stuff including a few blood soaked cloths, which Sam assumed, were from his own wounds.
In the furthest corner of the room, there was a tiny kitchen area where Sam could see an old fashion kettle was sitting on the stove with steam coming out of its spout.
The kettle was the only thing that was out of place in the room as far as Sam could see. But he supposed that whoever lived in this place preferred the old fashion kettle and who was he to judge?
The sharp whistling of the kettle shook Sam out of his thoughts as the door to the room opened and Dean stepped into the room.
At the sight of his big brother, Sam immediately relaxed and was just about to call out a hello when Dean ignored him as he went about getting the kettle off the stove and pouring the hot water into a big bowl standing on the counter.
Sam was stunned. Dean never before ignored him when Sam was feeling sick and needed him.
Why was Dean ignoring him? Sam wondered, still watching his brother go about his business, mixing something in the small kitchen. Sam didn't understand what Dean was doing and why he didn't come and check on Sam.
Could he, Sam, be invisible? Sam didn't think that he was but a test couldn't hurt.
He looked around and noticed that there was a small table near his bed. On the table was a glass of water. Sam leaned over slightly, wincing as he got a little dizzy and tried to grab the glass. His shaking hand touched the solid glass and slowly picked it up.
Bringing the glass towards him and settling it in his lap; Sam concluded that no, he wasn't invisible because as far as he knew no invisible being would be able to touch or hold the glass. That meant that Dean was definitely ignoring him. Why would Dean just ignore him? That wasn't like Dean.
Just as Sam was about to call out to his brother, he noticed that Dean's stance was all wrong and not at all bow-legged as it should have been. He also held himself quite differently than Sam remembered.
Either Sam was still delirious and his mind was playing tricks on him or the man wasn't Dean.
Sam got his answer as the door to the room opened a second time. A young man wearing jeans and a shirt entered the room and immediately addressed 'Dean'.
'Alec, is it prepared?" the young man asked.
At the question, 'Dean' turned towards the young man and nodded. "Yes. Why don't you check on our patient?"
The young man nodded and turned towards Sam and the bed. He smiled as he saw that Sam was awake and staring at him.
"Ah, good." He looked over his shoulder. "Alec, he's awake."
Sam frowned and pointed at himself. "You can see me?"
The young man laughed. "Yes, I can see you. Why do you ask?"
Sam shrugged and gestured towards the man on the other side of the room,
"Because he came in and didn't notice me so I just assumed that I was invisible. Where is my brother, Dean, by the way? We were together before I woke up here."
"Well, my brother, Alec, and I found you lying in the forest bleeding. There wasn't anyone with you though. I'm Aiden by the way."
Sam frowned and shook his head. "No, that can't be right. I know that Dean was with me in the forest. I talked to him."
Aiden shrugged. "Well, when we found you, you were mumbling the name 'Dean' and you thought that Alec was Dean."
Sam didn't want to know that he had just imagined Dean back in the forest. He had touched Dean and found the solid form of his brother. So how could it be that he just imagined that? Sam didn't want to acknowledge the fact that maybe his longing for Dean made his mind conjure him up in a solid form because Sam couldn't deal with the loss.
As the thought ran across Sam's mind, he realized that Aiden's clothes were changing before his eyes—instead of the simple shirt and jeans, Aiden was wearing a very old tunic. He looked like he belonged in the Middle Ages, not in the twenty-first century.
Taken aback by this, Sam looked down at himself to see that he too was wearing a tunic.
"Where am I? Where is my brother?" Sam demanded, swinging his legs off the bed to the floor. He started to push himself up but the momentum brought on a wave of dizziness. Sam sat back down, holding his hands to his aching temples, trying to stop the room from spinning.
"Easy, you're still healing," Aiden said as he watched Sam worriedly. He glanced back towards the kitchen area, where his brother, Alec, was still busy at work.
"Alec, are you finished yet? I need you here," Aiden called to his brother.
Alec turned and nodded to Aiden that he would be right there.
Turning back to Sam, who was folded into himself on the bed as if he hoped that the mere act of making himself smaller would protect him from them, Aiden let out a little sigh.
"Sam, it is okay. You're safe here with us." He tried to put Sam at ease but Sam just tensed up more.
"How do you know my name?" he asked.
"You kept whispering, 'Dean, don't leave me. It's Sammy.' while you were asleep so I just assumed that it was your name, especially since you thought that Alec was Dean earlier."
Sam nodded in understanding. "But that doesn't explain the 'Men in Tights' clothes. Why am I wearing this?'
Just then Alec walked up to the bed, holding a cup in his hands.
"Hello, Sam." He smiled serenely.
As Alec spoke, Sam felt the tension go out of his shoulders and he relaxed.
"Here, drink this." Alec handed the cup to Sam. "It is a healing brew and will help you heal quicker."
Taking the cup, Sam sniffed it suspiciously. "What's in it?"
"Oh, just some herbs," Alec said dismissively. "Drink it, it will help you."
Sam timidly took a sip. The drink—whatever it was—tasted good. He took another sip and then another until he had finished drinking all the contents of the cup.
As soon as he handed the cup back to Alec, Sam felt very sleepy. Gentle hands helped him into bed and just before his eyes closed fully, he saw Alec's and Aiden's clothes shift again back to the shirts and jeans they were wearing beforehand.
Weird, I must have been seeing things was Sam's last thought before he drifted off to sleep.
'Cause it's the heat of the moment,
The heat of the moment,.
The heat of the moment'
I hate this song was Sam's first thought as he woke up and sat up in bed.
"Rise and Shine, Sam." Dean's voice came from the other bed on Sam's right.
Eyes wide in shock, Sam immediately glanced at the other bed, where Dean was sitting fully clothed. He was looking at Sam with a worried expression.
"I'm dreaming again," Sam whispered to himself, but Dean overheard him.
"Yes, you are," Dean agreed as the chorus of "Back in Time" started to play on the radio.
"How?" Sam asked.
Dean leaned forward. "This place is sort of an in between place. I'm still dead, Sam. Nothing you can do will change that. But I don't like what you're doing to yourself—hunting nonstop. It's not you."
Sam shook his head. "Dean, I need to save you. It is what I need to do."
Dean replied. "Sam, you've saved me more times than you'll ever know. But I can't have you run yourself into an early grave just because you feel that it's your punishment. It's not the life I wanted for you."
"No, Sam. I don't want you to die like me. I want you to live, get married, and have the little Winchesters to carry on the family name and our legacy. I want you to promise me that you will stop hunting down the Trickster. Promise me, little brother."
"I can't do that, Dean. Please don't ask me," Sam said with a sob.
He turned away from Dean, trying to stop the tears, but when he opened his eyes again, Dean and the motel were gone.
Sam spun around, calling Dean's name but all he could see around him was white.
When Sam woke up again, he was disappointed to find that he was in the great room at Alec's and Aiden's and not back at the motel.
Alec was sleeping in a second bed with Aiden keeping watch over him.
They were so much like Dean and him that Sam felt his heart squeeze in pain and his throat tighten up.
He missed Dean so much and it was no wonder that he had mistaken Alec for Dean. Sam literally ached to see his brother again but he couldn't. Dean had been gone a thousand of Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The only thing left for Sam was to try to find the Trickster and kill him.
Unfortunately for Sam, his wounds sustained while hunting the Leanan Sidhe were still quite bad and he wasn't going anywhere soon.
It took a week for Sam to heal from his wounds completely. During this time, Sam was constantly reminded of Dean. Not just because his every thought was devoted to getting better and getting revenge for him, but also because Alec and Aiden reminded Sam of how he and Dean used to be.
Alec might have been the older brother but Aiden was very protective of him and didn't let Alec overwork himself as he worked hard to heal Sam.
Seeing Aiden being so protective of Alec made Sam feel like he had failed Dean since it had been his job to watch Dean's back and he hadn't done his job and had gotten Dean killed.
Finally the day came when Alec declared that Sam was fit enough to leave them.
It was hard for Sam to say goodbye because he had grown fond of the brothers, but he promised that he would come back and visit them.
After Sam said his final good byes to the brothers and stepped out the door intending to head back in the direction of the town of Evergreen Park, everything shifted around him.
The next thing Sam knew, he was standing next to the tree stump where he had been wounded. There was no evidence of a pathway through the trees to lead back to Alec and Aiden's house. It was as if they had never existed.
Sam couldn't have imagined the brothers' help. He had after all spent an entire week with them. As he wondered about this strange development, his cell beeped.
Sam opened his cell to find ten new voice messages waiting for him and all of them were from the past week. The week that he had spend recovering from his wounds with Alec and Aiden.
It wasn't strange for Sam to get messages since he tended to not answer his cell nowadays, preferring to let it go straight to voice mail. But what was strange was the fact that he had his cell with him the entire time and he never once heard it ring.
Thinking about it, Sam reasoned that maybe he had been so out of it that he just didn't remember hearing his cell ring.
As Sam walked back towards the town of Evergreen Park and the Impala, he played back the messages. The first message was from Bobby. He had found the Trickster.
Sam picked up his pace, aiming to get back to the town and the Impala as fast as he could.
He had a Trickster to kill and a big brother to avenge.
Set during the ep Mystery Spot, in the six months Sam hunted alone after that Wednesday. During one of his hunts Sam gets hurt pretty badly. He's alone with no back-up. He won't call Bobby and Dean can only be there in his head. How does Sam survive? (Inventive use of a new "character" to help Sam through will gain extra points in my book).