Fic: Uncharted Territories (10/14) (SPN, Gen)
Chapter Ten: Trials, Part One: Everything You Ever
Chapter Word Count: 2,355
Total Fic Word Count: 21,761/?
|| Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven ||
|| Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine ||
~~~
A lazy, comfortable warmth surrounded Dean as he slowly regained consciousness, and he was loathe to open his eyes and confront whatever waited for him. He absently registered a warm weight curled against his chest, and, out of curiosity, slowly opened his eyes to find out what it was. Dean blinked sleepily and focused on the small child who was curled against him. She looked to be about four years old and had wavy dark brown hair that was mussed from sleep. Her pajamas had shooting stars and crescent moons on them; fuzzy pink socks completed the ensemble. Dean blinked, a vague moment of confusion washing over him, before reality snapped back. This was Eleanor, his daughter, one of the bright lights in his life.
Dean smiled fondly at the dozing form of his little girl and then reached up and began to gently run his fingers through Eleanor's fine hair. She stirred under his touch, dark green eyes blinking muzzily up at him as she woke. Dean chuckled softly at Eleanor's sleepy smile.
“Hey, there, Ellie-bean,” he said. “Did you sleep okay?”
Ellie nodded, snuggling closer to her father. “Mmhmm,” she murmured, sighing happily. “Mommy said I could stay here until you woke up.”
“Did she now?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I'm up now. Did Mommy say what would happen after I woke up?” Dean asked. Eleanor shook her head. Dean smiled slyly, his hand dropping to the bed in a deceptively casual manner. “Well, I'm sure I can think of something,” he said, and then started tickling Ellie, drawing startled shrieks of laughter from his daughter.
“Daddy!” Ellie gasped, giggling happily. She twisted out of Dean's reach and then jumped off the bed, still laughing as she ran out of the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. Dean laughed softly to himself and then got out of bed, padding out into the hallway after Ellie. He wore pajama pants and an old t-shirt, his standard sleepwear these days. Dean could hear voices coming from the kitchen, cluing him into the location of the rest of his family. He made his way there, listening to the soft lilt of Lisa's voice, the answering quiet tenor of Ben, and the sweet soprano of Ellie.
Dean paused in the doorway, leaning briefly against the frame as he watched his family sitting at the table and eating breakfast. The quietly domestic scene made Dean smile to himself, a feeling of contentment uncurling in his chest. Lisa looked over at her husband and smiled at him.
“Are you going to join us?” she asked, pausing in the middle of putting butter on her toast. Dean pushed away from the door frame and then joined the others at the table. He was reaching for the orange juice when he was assaulted by a sharp pain in his head and a series of images that flashed by so quickly-- //Lucky Charms pouring into a bowl/a breakfast sandwich on the road/Sam bitching about the lack of proper food during a hunt/ Cas watching blankly across the booth as Dean eats slightly rubbery scrambled eggs in one diner of the many he's been in across the years.// --that Dean was barely able to keep up with them.
Dean hissed sharply in surprise and pain, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead as his elbows hit and then slid off the table. He barely registered the exclamations of alarm from his family as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened to him. The pain receded slowly, leaving a dull throb in its wake. Dean came back to reality to find that he had somehow managed to get to the floor, and that his head was pillowed on Ben's lap. Lisa was on the phone with Emergency Services, her voice shaking as she spoke with the operator on the other end. Ellie was watching with wide, teary eyes, not sure what was going on or what to do.
Dean blinked up at Ben, images flickering across his mind once again, this time of a younger version of his son, though these images-- //Ben at his eighth birthday party, flirting with girls/ Ben-- but not Ben, something wearing his image --going up in flames/ Cas wiping Ben and Lisa's memories of Dean's presence in their lives/“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry... I'm glad your life can get back to normal now.”// --were not what he should have been seeing when remembering the younger days of his son's life. Something was seriously wrong here, and Dean needed to find out what that was before things got worse. The only problem was, he wasn't sure how to even start.
The ambulance arrived ten minutes or so after Lisa called 911; Dean was still laying almost motionless on the kitchen floor, though Lisa had taken Ben's place as Dean's pillow. Ben was comforting Ellie, idly petting her hair as they watched the EMTs assess Dean's condition. He was soon put in the ambulance and taken to the nearest medical facility, which turned out to be Our Lady of Perpetual Hope General Hospital. For Dean, the ride over was a blur, with most of his attention focused on trying to sort out the constant stream of images passing through his mind.
He barely paid attention as the doctors evaluated him, took blood, put in an IV, and then put him into a quiet private room for the time being. The images slowed down once Dean was alone, coming in drips and dribbles as time passed. A nurse came into the room after a while and put something in Dean's IV that made him feel extremely sleepy. He nodded off almost instantly, eyes feeling like lead weights as they slid shut. His family was in the room when he struggled awake an unknown amount of time later; Lisa was talking with a doctor who was dressed in a long white coat and scrubs. Ben and Ellie were sitting quietly in a corner, with Ben helping Ellie color in one of the many coloring books the young girl possessed.
Dean was surprised to see his younger brother standing awkwardly near Ben and Ellie; he hadn't known Adam was in town. The last he knew, the youngest Winchester was still off at medical school. Dean looked around to see if Sam was anywhere nearby, but the tall, lanky form of his other brother was nowhere to be seen. Odd. Sam was usually one of the first people outside of Dean's immediate household to respond to family emergencies when it came to either of his brothers. Dean sighed and lay back on his bed as he was once again assaulted with a rapid-fire viewing of images, this time ones concerning Adam. All of them were dark and full of pain, something Dean sure as hell didn't like. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, and in response, the machines attached to his IV kicked in and doled out another dose of sedatives and pain medication. Dean drifted off just as the doctor broke off his conversation with Lisa, the world going fuzzy and then dark once more.
When Dean woke up again, the room was empty and the lights had been dimmed in order to mimic evening. He blinked, one hand coming up to wipe away the gunk from the corners of his eyes. He'd barely registered where he was when he heard a soft knock on the door before it opened, admitting an older man dressed in scrubs. Dean braced himself for the possible onslaught of memories that the nurse may bring, but nothing happened. Dean relaxed, letting out his breath slowly. The nurse looked over at him and smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling briefly before smoothing out again.
“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” the nurse said, his voice a soothing bass with a bit of a smoky burr to it. “I'm Eli, your night nurse. How are you feeling?”
Dean considered his options and then shrugged the best he could while half-prone. “Okay, I guess,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck with his IV-less hand. “Though I'm still confused as hell as to what's going on.”
Eli smiled slightly at this and then nodded almost imperceptibly. “I probably shouldn't say anything, but so are the doctors, to be honest,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, I won't tell them you said anything,” Dean told Eli with a conspiratorial tone. The nurse laughed softly.
“Thanks,” Eli said. “Do you feel up to talking about what happened to you? It might help the doctors figure out what's wrong faster.”
Dean sighed, running his free hand over his face. “It's... weird,” he said, hesitating a little as he spoke. “It's like I'm seeing flashes of someone else's life just about every time I look at someone, but it's my life at the same time.” He grimaced. “That didn't make much sense, did it?”
Eli considered Dean's words for a moment and then shrugged. “I've heard worse,” he said, and then got a thoughtful look on his face. “How real do the memories feel?”
“What?”
“What I mean is, do the memories or whatever it is that you're seeing feel like they've actually happened or is there a bit of unreality to them?”
Dean looked quizzically at Eli, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to process the question. “Well,” he said after a minute or so of contemplation, “they feel about as real as being here does, if that makes any sense.”
Eli sighed, his fingers idly drumming against the small table that stood next to Dean's bed. “I can't help you if you don't want me to,” he muttered mostly to himself, and then shook his head. “Right, okay. So, Dean, it boils down to this: is this life everything you want, or is it everything you need? Because believe me, there's a hell of a difference between the two.”
“I...” Dean stopped speaking, his thoughts racing. Both sets of memories-- experiences, or whatever they were --felt equally valid to him, though if he were to be honest with himself (and right now, he really didn't want to be), the darker, heavier memories that had started to flood his mind that day seemed to be the true ones. He groaned softly at the realization and then looked over at Eli with a pained expression. The nurse was waiting patiently for Dean to come to a decision, hands folded neatly in front of him.
“It's not a bad thing to want a family and a comfortable, stable life, Dean,” Eli said softly, his voice kind, “but unfortunately, sometimes what we want isn't what we need, or even what's the best for us in the long run. I can't say which is the best for you, though. You have to make that decision for yourself. You can stay here and forget about your other life, or you can keep going through the trials; it's your choice. I can only advise you in what you think is best.”
Dean's heart ached at Eli's words. Now that he heard the words, Dean knew which life was true and which was the false one. It didn't make the choice any easier, though.
“Before I make any decisions, can you answer a question for me?” he asked.
“I'll do my best.”
“Is Sam here? Does he exist in this reality?”
Eli looked grim as he shook his head. “No,” he replied, “only Adam. I'm sorry. In this world, in this life, Sam doesn't exist.”
“Then I want to go home,” Dean said firmly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I'm not leaving Sam alone, not when I know I can get back to him.”
Eli looked at Dean, and for the first time, Dean noticed that the other man had eyes that seemed to be far older than they should have any right to be. They were a deep brown, the color of freshly overturned earth glistening in the sun. “So be it,” Eli said, inclining his head in a brief nod. “If that's your choice, Dean Winchester, then you will need this to continue on your way.” He put his hand in one of his pockets and drew out a piece of metal. It was a quarter of a disc, and was made from what looked like tarnished silver. Eli held it out to Dean, who took it carefully.
It was cool to the touch, and had intricate etchings carved into its surface that Dean couldn't puzzle out the meaning of. He clutched it tight in his hand and then looked up at Eli. To his surprise, however, the other man had disappeared into thin air, taking all of the trappings of the hospital with him and leaving Dean sitting in an empty room. Dean was dressed once more in the clothing he had been wearing when he first entered the trials, his pack sitting on the bed next to him. Dean looked down at the metal in his hand and then carefully put it into his jacket, tucking it into one of the innermost pockets just in case. He carefully got to his feet, his fatigue dropping away from him as he stood. He put the pack on and then looked at the door. It was the only way out of the room, so Dean figured that was where he needed to go.
He crossed the room, opened the door, and then stepped through, the hospital room melting away behind him. Dean emerged into a stone passageway, the scents of long-laid dust and stale air assaulting his nose and making him sneeze violently. He turned briefly to look at the room he had just left, but saw nothing but a blank stone wall behind him. Right. Time to move forward, then. He turned back around and started walking, hoping that he was heading the right direction-- towards Sam, Cas, and home.
Chapter Word Count: 2,355
Total Fic Word Count: 21,761/?
|| Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven ||
|| Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine ||
~~~
A lazy, comfortable warmth surrounded Dean as he slowly regained consciousness, and he was loathe to open his eyes and confront whatever waited for him. He absently registered a warm weight curled against his chest, and, out of curiosity, slowly opened his eyes to find out what it was. Dean blinked sleepily and focused on the small child who was curled against him. She looked to be about four years old and had wavy dark brown hair that was mussed from sleep. Her pajamas had shooting stars and crescent moons on them; fuzzy pink socks completed the ensemble. Dean blinked, a vague moment of confusion washing over him, before reality snapped back. This was Eleanor, his daughter, one of the bright lights in his life.
Dean smiled fondly at the dozing form of his little girl and then reached up and began to gently run his fingers through Eleanor's fine hair. She stirred under his touch, dark green eyes blinking muzzily up at him as she woke. Dean chuckled softly at Eleanor's sleepy smile.
“Hey, there, Ellie-bean,” he said. “Did you sleep okay?”
Ellie nodded, snuggling closer to her father. “Mmhmm,” she murmured, sighing happily. “Mommy said I could stay here until you woke up.”
“Did she now?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I'm up now. Did Mommy say what would happen after I woke up?” Dean asked. Eleanor shook her head. Dean smiled slyly, his hand dropping to the bed in a deceptively casual manner. “Well, I'm sure I can think of something,” he said, and then started tickling Ellie, drawing startled shrieks of laughter from his daughter.
“Daddy!” Ellie gasped, giggling happily. She twisted out of Dean's reach and then jumped off the bed, still laughing as she ran out of the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. Dean laughed softly to himself and then got out of bed, padding out into the hallway after Ellie. He wore pajama pants and an old t-shirt, his standard sleepwear these days. Dean could hear voices coming from the kitchen, cluing him into the location of the rest of his family. He made his way there, listening to the soft lilt of Lisa's voice, the answering quiet tenor of Ben, and the sweet soprano of Ellie.
Dean paused in the doorway, leaning briefly against the frame as he watched his family sitting at the table and eating breakfast. The quietly domestic scene made Dean smile to himself, a feeling of contentment uncurling in his chest. Lisa looked over at her husband and smiled at him.
“Are you going to join us?” she asked, pausing in the middle of putting butter on her toast. Dean pushed away from the door frame and then joined the others at the table. He was reaching for the orange juice when he was assaulted by a sharp pain in his head and a series of images that flashed by so quickly-- //Lucky Charms pouring into a bowl/a breakfast sandwich on the road/Sam bitching about the lack of proper food during a hunt/ Cas watching blankly across the booth as Dean eats slightly rubbery scrambled eggs in one diner of the many he's been in across the years.// --that Dean was barely able to keep up with them.
Dean hissed sharply in surprise and pain, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead as his elbows hit and then slid off the table. He barely registered the exclamations of alarm from his family as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened to him. The pain receded slowly, leaving a dull throb in its wake. Dean came back to reality to find that he had somehow managed to get to the floor, and that his head was pillowed on Ben's lap. Lisa was on the phone with Emergency Services, her voice shaking as she spoke with the operator on the other end. Ellie was watching with wide, teary eyes, not sure what was going on or what to do.
Dean blinked up at Ben, images flickering across his mind once again, this time of a younger version of his son, though these images-- //Ben at his eighth birthday party, flirting with girls/ Ben-- but not Ben, something wearing his image --going up in flames/ Cas wiping Ben and Lisa's memories of Dean's presence in their lives/“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry... I'm glad your life can get back to normal now.”// --were not what he should have been seeing when remembering the younger days of his son's life. Something was seriously wrong here, and Dean needed to find out what that was before things got worse. The only problem was, he wasn't sure how to even start.
The ambulance arrived ten minutes or so after Lisa called 911; Dean was still laying almost motionless on the kitchen floor, though Lisa had taken Ben's place as Dean's pillow. Ben was comforting Ellie, idly petting her hair as they watched the EMTs assess Dean's condition. He was soon put in the ambulance and taken to the nearest medical facility, which turned out to be Our Lady of Perpetual Hope General Hospital. For Dean, the ride over was a blur, with most of his attention focused on trying to sort out the constant stream of images passing through his mind.
He barely paid attention as the doctors evaluated him, took blood, put in an IV, and then put him into a quiet private room for the time being. The images slowed down once Dean was alone, coming in drips and dribbles as time passed. A nurse came into the room after a while and put something in Dean's IV that made him feel extremely sleepy. He nodded off almost instantly, eyes feeling like lead weights as they slid shut. His family was in the room when he struggled awake an unknown amount of time later; Lisa was talking with a doctor who was dressed in a long white coat and scrubs. Ben and Ellie were sitting quietly in a corner, with Ben helping Ellie color in one of the many coloring books the young girl possessed.
Dean was surprised to see his younger brother standing awkwardly near Ben and Ellie; he hadn't known Adam was in town. The last he knew, the youngest Winchester was still off at medical school. Dean looked around to see if Sam was anywhere nearby, but the tall, lanky form of his other brother was nowhere to be seen. Odd. Sam was usually one of the first people outside of Dean's immediate household to respond to family emergencies when it came to either of his brothers. Dean sighed and lay back on his bed as he was once again assaulted with a rapid-fire viewing of images, this time ones concerning Adam. All of them were dark and full of pain, something Dean sure as hell didn't like. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, and in response, the machines attached to his IV kicked in and doled out another dose of sedatives and pain medication. Dean drifted off just as the doctor broke off his conversation with Lisa, the world going fuzzy and then dark once more.
When Dean woke up again, the room was empty and the lights had been dimmed in order to mimic evening. He blinked, one hand coming up to wipe away the gunk from the corners of his eyes. He'd barely registered where he was when he heard a soft knock on the door before it opened, admitting an older man dressed in scrubs. Dean braced himself for the possible onslaught of memories that the nurse may bring, but nothing happened. Dean relaxed, letting out his breath slowly. The nurse looked over at him and smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling briefly before smoothing out again.
“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” the nurse said, his voice a soothing bass with a bit of a smoky burr to it. “I'm Eli, your night nurse. How are you feeling?”
Dean considered his options and then shrugged the best he could while half-prone. “Okay, I guess,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck with his IV-less hand. “Though I'm still confused as hell as to what's going on.”
Eli smiled slightly at this and then nodded almost imperceptibly. “I probably shouldn't say anything, but so are the doctors, to be honest,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, I won't tell them you said anything,” Dean told Eli with a conspiratorial tone. The nurse laughed softly.
“Thanks,” Eli said. “Do you feel up to talking about what happened to you? It might help the doctors figure out what's wrong faster.”
Dean sighed, running his free hand over his face. “It's... weird,” he said, hesitating a little as he spoke. “It's like I'm seeing flashes of someone else's life just about every time I look at someone, but it's my life at the same time.” He grimaced. “That didn't make much sense, did it?”
Eli considered Dean's words for a moment and then shrugged. “I've heard worse,” he said, and then got a thoughtful look on his face. “How real do the memories feel?”
“What?”
“What I mean is, do the memories or whatever it is that you're seeing feel like they've actually happened or is there a bit of unreality to them?”
Dean looked quizzically at Eli, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to process the question. “Well,” he said after a minute or so of contemplation, “they feel about as real as being here does, if that makes any sense.”
Eli sighed, his fingers idly drumming against the small table that stood next to Dean's bed. “I can't help you if you don't want me to,” he muttered mostly to himself, and then shook his head. “Right, okay. So, Dean, it boils down to this: is this life everything you want, or is it everything you need? Because believe me, there's a hell of a difference between the two.”
“I...” Dean stopped speaking, his thoughts racing. Both sets of memories-- experiences, or whatever they were --felt equally valid to him, though if he were to be honest with himself (and right now, he really didn't want to be), the darker, heavier memories that had started to flood his mind that day seemed to be the true ones. He groaned softly at the realization and then looked over at Eli with a pained expression. The nurse was waiting patiently for Dean to come to a decision, hands folded neatly in front of him.
“It's not a bad thing to want a family and a comfortable, stable life, Dean,” Eli said softly, his voice kind, “but unfortunately, sometimes what we want isn't what we need, or even what's the best for us in the long run. I can't say which is the best for you, though. You have to make that decision for yourself. You can stay here and forget about your other life, or you can keep going through the trials; it's your choice. I can only advise you in what you think is best.”
Dean's heart ached at Eli's words. Now that he heard the words, Dean knew which life was true and which was the false one. It didn't make the choice any easier, though.
“Before I make any decisions, can you answer a question for me?” he asked.
“I'll do my best.”
“Is Sam here? Does he exist in this reality?”
Eli looked grim as he shook his head. “No,” he replied, “only Adam. I'm sorry. In this world, in this life, Sam doesn't exist.”
“Then I want to go home,” Dean said firmly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I'm not leaving Sam alone, not when I know I can get back to him.”
Eli looked at Dean, and for the first time, Dean noticed that the other man had eyes that seemed to be far older than they should have any right to be. They were a deep brown, the color of freshly overturned earth glistening in the sun. “So be it,” Eli said, inclining his head in a brief nod. “If that's your choice, Dean Winchester, then you will need this to continue on your way.” He put his hand in one of his pockets and drew out a piece of metal. It was a quarter of a disc, and was made from what looked like tarnished silver. Eli held it out to Dean, who took it carefully.
It was cool to the touch, and had intricate etchings carved into its surface that Dean couldn't puzzle out the meaning of. He clutched it tight in his hand and then looked up at Eli. To his surprise, however, the other man had disappeared into thin air, taking all of the trappings of the hospital with him and leaving Dean sitting in an empty room. Dean was dressed once more in the clothing he had been wearing when he first entered the trials, his pack sitting on the bed next to him. Dean looked down at the metal in his hand and then carefully put it into his jacket, tucking it into one of the innermost pockets just in case. He carefully got to his feet, his fatigue dropping away from him as he stood. He put the pack on and then looked at the door. It was the only way out of the room, so Dean figured that was where he needed to go.
He crossed the room, opened the door, and then stepped through, the hospital room melting away behind him. Dean emerged into a stone passageway, the scents of long-laid dust and stale air assaulting his nose and making him sneeze violently. He turned briefly to look at the room he had just left, but saw nothing but a blank stone wall behind him. Right. Time to move forward, then. He turned back around and started walking, hoping that he was heading the right direction-- towards Sam, Cas, and home.