Chapter Text
Author's notes:
my spin on plots where one of the winchester boys experience or is thrust into an alternate reality and wonders what is real and what is not.
"Hey, I think he's finally coming to...Dean! Can you hear me? Try and open your eyes man. C'mon, you can do it."
Dean tried to fight out of the haze that seemed to weigh down and cloud his head. He heard voices fading in and out nearby and could sense movements beside him.
An insistent voice kept pulling at him, urging him to wake up. He couldn't make sense of the actual words being said but somehow he knew the person belonging to that voice was telling him to wake up. He could hear it in the tone of the voice, the insistence, the urgency and the concern with a hint of fear underneath it.
His head felt strange, like it was stuffed with cotton wool. He urged his eyes to open but they remained stubbornly closed. He wanted to see who the voice belonged to, who was calling him with such concern, such love.
"Come on Dean, please..." the nameless voice begged, the masculine tone breaking on the last word.
It was said with such fear and desperation that something in him was stirred. The heaviness in his head cleared enough that one single thought broke through. Sammy. He had to wake up, Sammy was in trouble, he needed help, protection.
The second attempt to open his eyes was difficult but successful. With what felt like super human effort, he counted silently to three and forced his eyes to peel open. That tiny action was at once exhausting and painful as his head registered bright white light piercing his skull. A dark shape moved into his line of vision as the light forced him to blink quickly to adjust himself into his new surroundings. He focused on the dark shape and was rewarded as his vision became less blurry and he could make out the face of his younger brother leaning over him.
Sammy appeared to be physically fine which confused him. Hadn't he been calling Dean frantically? He thought Sam had been in danger. Dean looked around at his surroundings and what he saw shocked and scared him.
The last thing he remembered was leaving Sam at the little motel they had been staying at while they had hunted down the savage werewolf killing hikers every month at the time of the full moon. The hunt had been successful and neither of them had been injured enough to warrant a visit to the hospital which was where they evidently in right now judging by the sterile white walls, the hard uncomfortable bed he was lying on and the beeping machines and various wires connected to him. Another indication was the pain. Even through the drugs he had been given, and he could tell he was given a fair amount by the heaviness of his head and limbs, the fuzziness in his mind and the dryness of his mouth, he could still feel a fair amount of it. It throbbed through his entire body, not a spare inch of his body felt like it had been spared from whatever had hurt him.
However, it wasn't his unexplainable injuries, presence in the hospital, or lack of memory about why he was here and what had happened that had him gasping and trying to scoot up the bed and search frantically for a weapon to protect himself and Sammy.
After he had assured himself that Sam seemed fine and unhurt, he had scanned his surroundings and surmised he was in a hospital. And then his gaze landed on two other people present in the room. One of them came forward.
"Oh Thank God! You're awake baby. I was so worried about you!"
No! This can't be, Dean thought, shocked. I'm dreaming. The woman was now leaning over him on the opposite side of Sam. She gently took his hand lying limply on the bed covers. No, this isn't right, she's not supposed to be here, he thought.
Long wavy blond hair, oval face, pretty features scrunched with concern. A face he hadn't seen in more than two decades, bar one split moment that first time he and Sammy had returned to Kansas in search for answers about Sam‘s new found abilities.
"Mom?"