Lost Between Worlds

The Dream

"I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong, but are you having fun?" Dean asks, glaring threateningly at the Doctor.

"Oh!" he exclaims, face falling. "Um, no. Obviously not. Why would I be smil- having fun?" He unconsciously scratches the back of his head.

"You were bored," Sherlock says, cool as ice, obviously eager to show off. "It's quite obvious you lost someone recently, and as you have a long ginger hair on your sleeve, I would say a female. It wasn't a romantic affair, but it's obvious you were very attached to this female. She must've left you some time ago but not too-"

"She was his best friend," I interrupt, jabbing Sherlock with my elbow. The Doctor looks at me, surprised, and slowly lowers his hand. "Donna." I turn to address the Doctor. "You should be happy to know you'll see each other again, and soon. Wilf will be overjoyed to see you again. Once again, you'll save the world, but, um, just..." I pause to get my thoughts in order. If I could just warn him, maybe he won't act out in 'The Waters of Mars'. "Keep yourself in check. You can get... terrifying for lack of a better word, and fast when you think you're alone. It's a one-ingredient recipe for disaster. You'll lose everything you stand for if you forget. 'Never cruel, nor cowardly. Never give up. Never give in.' Don't forget your promise. Please." My chest feels tight, and everyone else is staring at us, wondering what I'm going on about. He nods with a mildly concerned look on his face, and I compose myself.

"Alright, now that whatever that was is over, can we try to get some more sleep?" Dean says.

"Yeah, of course." I nod, chest and stomach still achy. I'm an adult male. Why do I care about someone who's not real? But a little voice in the back of my mind whispers how they must be real. They have to be, or they wouldn't be here, in front of me, walking and talking. "So do you need a place to sleep, Doctor?"

"Oh, no thank you. I've already gotten an hour today. Thank you though."

"Only one?" Sam asks him with a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, that's all he needs. Thank you for being concerned, though," I speak up for him, and smile politely. Sam still looks sceptical, but he nods.

"Well, I have some ideas on how to find out what happened to you, so we could do them tomorrow. If you want, of course," Sam suggests, turning to me.

"Sounds good. See everyone tomorrow." We all wander back to our sleeping spaces, and the Doctor sits in Sherlock's chair. As I lay back down, I yawn possibly the biggest yawn in my whole life, and I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. But I do something that I haven't done in a while: I dream.

•

I wake up in my own bed, soaking wet. I pat myself down: this is my messy black hair, my small shoulders, and my long, skinny legs. I bolt upright, and look around. "My room looks the same as it did before I left." My train of thought stops. "Left for where? Oh, I remember the dream I had before waking up. I was in Sherlock's flat! How funny... And Sam and Dean were there, with the Doctor, too. And I was John!" I laugh to myself.

"What time is it?" I reach over to my left and check my iPhone. "2:22 P.M. How ironic!" I open my phone, and the app that's open is notes. "Help. Help. Help." It's a whole string of this one word. I stop reading after the first thirty. "Oh, god! Did I do this? What if- No. That's crazy. I probably just did that in my sleep. Just another nightmare. Nothing new." I delete the note, and stand up. As I walk toward the door out of my bedroom, I notice that the door is locked from the inside. "Did I sleepwalk?" I ask myself. I unlock the door and step outside. I walk down the stairs and toward my kitchen when I hear a noise. A crashing noise, just like in my dream. I look down at myself, and I realise I'm fully dressed, shoes and all. I reach down into my boot and find a small switchblade. "Where did I get this from?"

I creep closer to the kitchen, blade out. I stand next to the door jam for a moment, steadying my breathing before I stand in the open doorway. When I see what's there, I almost scream.

It's Castiel, gagged and bound like he was in my dream. He stops fighting against his restraints when he sees me, eyes wide.
I run to his side, and I tear off his gag.

"Alexander?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer. "How do you know my name?"

"Alexander, listen to me. If you remember anything from any dreams you've had recently, you need to listen." He pauses and his eyes dart around the room. "They're here for you. I need to take you with me. Cut off the ropes." After I hesitate, he gives me puppy dog eyes. "I wasn't just John, was I?" I ask myself. "I was trapped." "Please." I respond by cutting off the ropes. "Thank you."

He grabs my wrist and stands hesitantly, wrapping his left arm around my shoulders.

"This might sting a bit."

And we're gone.

•

I bolt upright, panting and drenched in more sweat than I thought humanly possible. I must've screamed, because I hear the sound of footsteps speeding up to my room. That's when I notice the bloody angel laying next to me, gripping my wrist. And when I say bloody, I mean it literally. The stuff is all over both him and me, and from what I can tell at a quick glance, both of our bodies' skin is ripped into ribbons.

"Oh my god! Cas!" I shout, but in John's voice. I feel drained from that small exercise, and fall back on my pillow, whole body aching.

"John!" I hear Sherlock shout as he reaches the doorway, then feel him next to me.

"Still not John," I whisper weakly.

"I know," he whispers back, choking on his words. I blink through the haze in front of my eyes just enough to see a tear run down his face. My heart aches for him and what he must be feeling, which only adds to my pain. "Doctor! Are you trained in medicine?" I feel another person come up next to me.

"Well enough, yes! Are there any medical supplies?"

"There's a bag under the bed. It should have what you need," I whisper. Where did that come from? I just... knew.

"Cas!" I hear Dean shout. "Cas, what did you do?!?"

"I found them," Cas whispers, sounding even weaker than me. He pulls his arm from under me, "but they got away."

"God, Cas, you don't need to risk your life every God Damn time you try to help!" Dean shouts, quieter this time.

As I feel blood being washed off and gauze wrapped around my wounds, I black out with a voice whispering "I'm here" reverberating in my skull.