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Dean doesn’t like this, but getting Sam to realize what he’s going on, that the witch has trapped him, is the only way to break the spell. So he does what he has to, hunts down the dream root, and goes in.
Sam’s brain isn’t somewhere Dean wants to be. Nerdy, messy, all over the place–no thanks. Dean can do without. Still, he takes the plunge.
He arrives to meat hooks. Human skin burning. A shallow humming filling in the dead space, sounding like someone mildly interested at best.
This is Hell. The Cage, maybe. She stuck Sam back in the Cage.
Dean’s never sure how well Sam remembers this, or even what exactly went down there–it’s not like they talk about it–but he can guess. Dean knows hell, knows how the place works.
She said endless torture and Dean sure gets that now. This must go beyond even her wildest witchy dreams. Not everyone has memories of such torture to dredge up and latch onto.
Then the scene changes. It’s like a collage, rapid-fire, and it takes Dean a moment to process it. Meg, then Lucifer. Sam watching scenes as if from a distance. Hurting Jo, hurting Dean. Than Gadreel. Kevin.
Jess burns. Dean dies at the hellhounds claws. Dean disappears into nothingness. Dean does at the hands of Metatron.
It all feels like it’s flashed by in a second, thousands of little nightmares combined, trapping Sam inside, as fast as Dean can blink. Faster than he can even draw breath, maybe.
People dying because Crowley takes his anger at them out on others. Watching Sarah die helplessly. Dean…
Dean making him stop the Trials. Dean swallows at that one, angry, suddenly needing to have a talk with Sam, and not just about busting Sam out of this eternal hell of a loop. About Sam’s place in this family and keeping them together. About staying alive.
“Sam.” Dean manages to summon up words where they didn’t exist earlier.
Sam–the real Sam, Dean thinks, or as real as one can be in their own head–spins on Dean, a look of horror on his face.
“Dean,” he says, eyes wild. “No. No, I won’t. My answer is no. Dean, or whoever you are. No. You won’t–you won’t trick me this time.”
“Sam,” Dean tries again. “It’s me.”
Sam continues to shake his head. “No, I won’t,” he repeats.
And if that isn’t a punch to the gut, doubly so when Dean realizes all the other nightmares around them have faded out entirely. Because Sam’s worse fear, the nightmare the spell gleefully latches onto more than any other–
Is Dean inside Sam’s head.