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He doesn't know how it happened, how he didn't see it coming. He thought he'd been so careful, making sure that Sam was okay, that there were no more signs of him becoming something else, something other.
But this Sam was sneakier than Dean had accounted for, a better actor than he'd ever given him credit for. He'd hidden it well, until it was too late, until there was nothing Dean could do except watch as what was left of his little brother rip the world apart in order to 'save' him.
He didn't feel saved.
Instead he felt like a high-class whore kept locked in a golden cage, only to be brought out and toyed with when the Lord-And-Master felt like it.
He loved it and he hated it. Loved it because it was still Sam, no matter what he had become. It was too ingrained in him for him to be able to turn away from his brother, even if he had the choice left to him. He hated it because this Sam wasn't his Sammy, no matter how much he tried to convince Dean otherwise.
This Sam only brought him hurt and pain. Twisting him up in both body and soul, ripping him apart and putting him back together again, just because he could. This Sam would torture him, push his body past its limits until all he could feel was white-hot pain. Until all he could taste was his own blood, and all he could wish for was death.
But that was one wish that would never be granted.
You see Sam found the demon holding Dean's contract. Found him and killed him... but that just meant that he owned Dean's contract himself, and by then he was so far gone that he refused to break it, instead binding Dean's soul to his own, tying them irrevocably together, and with Sam's new position as the leader of the demon army, he was able to keep Dean with him for eternity.
And now Dean was kept here. Knowing that he could do nothing to stop his brother, that it was too late to save either of them, and with the knowledge that he would now never be able to find the peace he so craved, instead paying for the crime of loving Sam too much to let him go.
The only thing that Dean still controlled was his mind, and that was more of a curse than a blessing, as it left him fully aware of everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong, and left him with only the memories of life before to torture him even more between his brother's 'visits.'
Every time Sam came to him, it started off quietly, Sam trying to be Dean's Sammy, trying to convince him that there wasn't any blood on his hands, that everything he had done, he'd done it for Dean, and Dean should be thankful for it. But Dean could never admit that, could never forget what he had seen and heard, and could never forgive him for the things Sam had done in his name.
That made Sam angry, and his temper was a dangerous thing, as he took it out on Dean, trying to bend him to his will, to force him to bend down and accept Sam, and everything that he now was. To be grateful.
But Dean could never do that- even when the pain was unbearable, he just couldn't forgive and forget, no matter how much he may have wished his stubborn mind would do otherwise. Even when he tried, when he'd wished for the ability to give into Sam's demands, he'd remember the sight of Bobby dying in his arms, or Ellen, ripped to pieces by the demons under Sam's command.
Everyone he'd ever known, everyone he'd ever cared for, they were all gone, taken by Sam in his quest to make Dean his and only his. But that act in itself was enough to prove to Dean that this Sam was not his Sammy. Because his Sam knew that Dean only belonged to him, that no one else could ever come close to Sam.
So Dean could never break for Sam, no matter what tortures were placed on his body, what marks Sam placed on his soul. The only escape he had found was in his mind, learning to bury himself further and further in his own memories, pulling them over him like a shield, making it harder and harder for the reality to intrude. However, that only made Sam more and more angry, forced him to visit more agony on Dean to keep him with him in the here and now.
Recovering after another of Sam's 'visits,' Dean lay alone in the bare room, feeling the dried blood itch against his skin. His body was broken, he knew that his mind wasn't far from following, and he almost welcomed it. At least madness would spare him from this reality. Each time Sam visited him it got worse, and Dean pushed himself further and further down into his own mind.
And each time, he felt he was closer to breaking through that elusive barrier.
He felt the phantom sensation of a gentle hand on his forehead and frowned, gentleness had been a foreign concept to him ever since he had been... here.
Opening his eyes, expecting another trick, Dean found himself looking into blue eyes that he knew from childhood memories and half-forgotten dreams.
"Mom?" he asked through cracked lips, his voice a pained rasp.
"Hey baby," Mary replied quietly, her voice a balm to his soul.
"You shouldn't be here," Dean shook his head, trying futilely to push his broken body up. "You should be with Dad."
"I have been sweetheart," she soothed, her hand pushing his hair off of his forehead. "I came to see you."
"Me?" Dean asked, confused. "You've come to take me with you?" he asked, the hope in his eyes raw and painful.
"No baby," she replied, closing her eyes. "I want to, God knows your Dad and I both want you with us, but we can't," she shook her head.
"The deal," he sighed, not a question.
Mary nodded. "That, plus the way your brother has bound you both together," she added. "As much as we want to just take you out of here, we can't break those bindings; they're just too tight."
Dean let his head fall back to the thin pillow beneath him, and the loss of hope in his eyes almost brought her to her knees.
"So why are you here?" he asked. "Or did Sam bring you here to break me even more? One more thing to torture me with?"
Mary shot up at that, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "NO! No, Sam has nothing to do with this. He doesn't know that I'm here, and we don't have a lot of time before he realizes and comes here to stop me."
"Stop what?" Dean asked, his eyes opening once more. "You said you couldn't take me from here."
"And I can't," Mary confirmed. "Sam has both your body and your soul, and there's no breaking those binds. But..." she paused, making sure that Dean was paying attention to her completely.
"But?" Dean echoed.
"He can't control your mind baby, he can't touch you there."
"A fat lot of help that does me," Dean shook his head. "It would be easier if he did. At least then I'd be free of this."
"But it wouldn't be, Dean," she frowned. "Because then there would be no escape for you."
"I don't understand," Dean shook his head, getting agitated again. "You told me I can't escape here."
Mary moved to sit on the bed beside him, placing one hand over his eyes. Outside, she could hear the sound of Sam's demons moving closer, her presence had been discovered.
"We don't have much time, baby. But you have to trust me. You have to listen to what I tell you." Mary spoke quickly, turning to glance back at the door before leaning closer to Dean, whispering in his ear.
Sam broke through the doorway, the smell of brimstone and blood and sulfur following him in.
Mary stepped forward, placing her form between her youngest and her oldest, protecting him.
"Mom?" Sam spoke, moving closer, watching as Mary drifted back away from him. "How did you get here?" he asked harshly.
"I came to see your brother," she replied calmly, watching him as he moved closer still, his form becoming angry and looming over her.
"You can't take him. He's mine," Sam spat, the roaring of the demons around him growing louder with his displeasure.
"I'm not here to take him," she replied. "You've bound his body and soul to your own and there's no breaking that, as you well know," she frowned. "No matter how much he just wishes for peace."
"He made his choice, now he has to live with the consequences of it," Sam growled, moving closer still to the bed where Dean lay. His brother was quiet, his breathing steady, there was something very wrong with that.
"He chose to give his life to save his little brother, his Sam," Mary countered. "He made his peace with that choice, and was prepared to accept the consequences. It was you who couldn't accept it, you that forced this on him. You who became everything that his Sam wasn't," she argued, holding her ground mere feet from the bed, blocking Sam's view of Dean's face.
Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Regardless of that, it doesn't change the facts. And the fact is he is bound here with me, for eternity. Dean?" he spoke to his brother. "Say goodbye to Mom, you won't be seeing her again."
Dean showed no reaction, not a single movement.
"Dean?" he growled once more, stepping closer and pushing Mary out of the way, sending her slamming against the wall.
Dean lay still as a statue, only the movement of his chest, and the soft sound of his breathing betraying him as still being alive. His eyes were closed, as if sleeping, but the look of bliss on his face told Sam that it was more than just sleep. Sam hadn't seen Dean look like this since... before.
"Dean?" he thundered, reaching down and shaking him, feeling the slickness of blood and the shift of the broken bones under his skin from his last visit. Dean didn't react.
Spinning to face his mother, Sam stalked over to her, pinning her against the wall with a flick of his wrist.
"What did you do?" he growled, his face inches from hers.
"Nothing," she replied. "I simply told him the path he had been going down was the right one."
Sam shook her, his brow creasing. "What does that mean?" he yelled, tossing her away and stalking back over to his brother's still form.
"DEAN," he yelled, tossing his power around like a child, inflicting more wounds on the body in front of him, skin splitting and tearing under the invisible forces.
Still, Dean didn't react.
Mary climbed to her feet and took a step closer to her sons, unable to merely watch Dean's body be ravaged so callously.
"It won't work," Mary told Sam softly. "Dean is beyond feeling your wrath now."
Everything stopped, the sounds inside the room dying away to silence.
"What did you do?" he growled again.
"Dean knew that he could never leave this place, could never leave you. You own his body and his soul. So he did the only thing he could do, he retreated to the one place you couldn't touch him; his mind," she explained.
Ignoring Sam, Mary stepped over to Dean's body, smoothing his hair back from his face as she had once done when he was a child.
"He's gone to his safe place," she finished softly, shaking her head.
"Bring him back," Sam ordered, stepping up behind Mary.
"I can't," she answered. "Only he can. But he's gone so deep that he doesn't even know what he's done, that what he's living is anything except real." She placed her fingers against his temple and looked back at Sam. "You want to know where he is?" she asked, gesturing for him to sit beside her.
Sam sat, his anger gone, replaced by a dull form of shock. Everything he had done, he had told himself that he had done it for Dean, so that they could be together forever, no matter what. He had never stopped to think that Dean would want anything other than the same things Sam had wanted, never believed that Dean wouldn't come around eventually and join Sam at his side. Never believed that Dean would ever leave him.
Mary took Sam's hand and pressed it against Dean's temple, joining the connection.
Dean sat in the Impala, driving down the endless highway, Sam at his side, heavy metal blaring out of the speakers. Dean was tapping the wheel in time to the beat, and Sam was reading over Dad's journal, making notes occasionally before tossing a balled-up napkin at Dean when he started singing, loudly and deliberately off-key. It just made Dean laugh and sing louder, changing the lyrics to rude and obnoxious rhymes so stupid that even Sam had to laugh.
Dean reached over to cuff Sam around the ear, but Sam caught his hand easily, keeping hold of it to stop any counter-attacks. Dean just smiled and squeezed Sam's hand before letting it fall lax in his brother's safe grip, turning his attention back to chasing the sunset.
Sam felt the connection break, felt his hand fall away from his brother's head. He ached for it to return, to feel what he had felt in those moments once more. Mary's hand on his stopped him.
"Even after everything, he could never leave you Sam," she told him, tears in her eyes. "No matter what has happened, despite the fact the he could have been or done anything he wanted, become anything he could imagine or wish for, he still chose you for his eternity."
She stepped away from the bed, her form becoming transparent once more.
"Remember that Sam," she whispered before fading completely, leaving Sam alone in the room with the shell of his brother, a sole tear slipping down his cheek.
Outside, the winds howled mournfully.