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Dean paced the cabin in a moment of clarity. He vaguely remembered being lost, and finding the cabin. With Sam! He had been with Sam and… they were going to stay here, and hunt something? But where had Sam gone? if he could just remember what it was… remember why they were here before the other Sam came back.
“Dean, can you stop pacing for a sec? I think I've found something. Come here. Sit down and we'll check it out.”
Too late.
He turned slowly to see “Sam”, sitting at the table by the camping lantern they'd brought. There was no power in the cabin, but somehow Sam had his laptop open. Somehow he was searching the internet out here in the woods where even his phone had no signal.
No, No. This wasn't his Sam.
He shook his head, trying to clear the hallucination.
“Dean! I need you Dean. Come sit beside me, I need your help.”
Dean felt himself drifting towards not-Sam as if in a dream. He watched himself sit down at the table beside the imposter and he screamed but no sound came out, it just reverberated in his head infuriatingly.
Not-Sam smiled at him, put his hand on Dean's thigh. His smile was too big, his teeth were too white. It wasn't his Sam. Dean pounded his fists on the table, but his body didn't move. His body was only responding to Not-Sam, leaning in to look at the laptop screen that was impossibly bright, likely also a figment of whatever magic created the other Sam.
He tried to wrest himself away from the doppelganger but his body wouldn't move. He could feel it drawn to the figure before him. Fake Sam slid his hand further up Dean's thigh and Dean felt his body shiver at the sensation. Why did his body like that? His brother! It must be the spell. He screamed again, urging his body to obey, rattling everything he could get his hands on inside his brain trying to shake the hold this thing had over his body. For a brief moment, a half scream made it through to his mouth, his body pushed slightly away from Sam.
Fuck! He did it! Maybe he could free himself! Keep going!
Not-Sam's smile faltered for a moment, and Dean saw the ultra white teeth become grey and sharp for a split second before returning to the gleaming white toothpaste commercial they were now.
The imposter redoubled his efforts, placing both hands on Dean's forearms now, his smile, placating. He spoke in a soothing tone, slightly melodic.
“Dean. You need to stay here with me. It isn't safe in these woods. I need you here. With me. Forever.”
Not-Sam caressed Dean's face, his thumb rubbing over his cheek as he smiled, sickeningly sweet. Dean's body leaned in closer to the thing-that-wasn't Sam, hand reaching up to join the one on his face. Inside himself, Dean continued to scream and buck against his prison, throwing chairs and smashing anything he could lay his hands on but the thing was too strong with both hands touching him, it was overpowering anything he'd managed to push through before. He raged on.
The lantern on the table flickered for a moment and Sam disappeared. The laptop was gone too.
Dean had control of himself again and immediately ran for the door. The knob was old and rusted and did not turn smoothly, but even when he twisted far enough the door wouldn't budge. It was secured from the outside somehow. He took a step back and rammed his shoulder into the door, and it shuddered and creaked but didn't give. He tried again, to no avail. He could feel his panic rising. He looked around for a window, but they were all boarded up from the inside. Maybe he could take them apart! He looked around and found a length of metal that he could use as a pry bar and started to work on the boards.
There was a sudden growl from the table where he'd been sitting, and the imposter was there again, flickering between something Dark and the shining projection of Sam, landing on and remaining the latter.
Dean's hands scrabbled over the board he'd managed to loosen pulling one end free from the wall, before he would lose control again.
“Dean. Stop! You can't go out there alone! It's too dangerous, you need to stay here with me. You'll be safe with me.”
The thing was behind him now as he frantically pried the other side of the board away from the wall. He felt the touch of its hand on his arm and he swung around with the length of metal, desperately aiming for the body that wasn't his brother. He half expected it to whiff right through the hallucination, but he connected with something solid and it screamed an inhuman sound.
Dean froze for a moment as he watched his brother cower. His brother? Did he just hit his brother? No! No, it was the thing. It wasn't real.
“Dean? What are you doing? It's me, your brother. Sammy.”
“No. You're not. He wouldn't call himself that.” Dean growled.
Dean swung again, bringing the rod down on the figure before him, again and again.
“You're not Sam!”
“Not my brother!”
“Not…”
“My…”
“Sammy!”
He swung with each word until the thing that was Sam was crumpled and whimpering before him, looking up with Sam's pleading, puppy-dog eyes.
“Dean!” He cried “please… stop hurting me.”
Dean looked at the bloodied person in front of him, no longer sure what he was looking at.
“Sammy?” He choked out.
“Please. Dean. It's me, please stop.”
Dean dropped the metal rod to the floor.
“Sammy? Sammy, I'm sorry, is it really you? I can't tell! I don't know any more.” Dean sobbed, sinking to his knees in front of the thing that could be Sam.
“Hold me, Dean. I don't want to die alone.”
“No! Sammy! You can't die! I didn't kill you, you'll be ok. Com’ere.”
Dean shuffled on his knees, falling beside Sam and pulling him into his arms. Rocking him, feeling his warm body rest against his.
“Sam?” The body was becoming limp in his arms.
What have I done?!
“SAM?” He screamed, shaking the body in his arms, becoming frantic.
“DEAN!?”
Sam's deep voice resonated in his chest.
He gripped the body in his lap harder, looking down expectantly, but the voice was not coming from the Sam in his lap.
Fear and disgust ran through him. The body in his lap was shriveled, grey, and broken, rapidly decaying into dust. He jerked back, scrabbling across the floor away from the body.
“Sam?” He called out, voice shaky and hoarse.
The front door splintered open and Sam burst through the broken shards searching the dim room for Dean, finding him on the floor, shaking and sobbing. In two long strides he was kneeling at Dean's side, gathering him into his arms.
Dean looked stricken and briefly struggled against Sam before relenting into his embrace.
“Sammy, is it really you? I thought I'd… I'd killed you.” He choked out.
“No, Dean, I'm here, you're safe. I've got you now.” he rocked his brother in his arms. “You're safe. It's ok, now.”