Alright. I know it's been awhile, and I apologize. Some of you were pretty confused by the story, and I don't like to confuse readers because you're all so wonderful, so I've made a list of points which I hope will clear up some concerns.

1. PERSPECTIVE: The story pings from dream world to reality to visions at the drop of a hat. Alma can manipulate reality, so the thin line between what's real and what isn't exists because of her. Thus, there will be times where you may not know for sure if the Winchesters are dreaming, awake, or a combination of the two.

2. INTEL: Dean and Sam are often confused by the blurring of reality, and they're being manipulated by the people around them. You, as the reader, don't know any more than Sam and Dean, thus you are going to be a bit confused by things until the Winchesters figure more out. Don't worry, you're in good company.

3. PLOT: Alma was chosen to control the Replica Soldiers. Replica Soldiers are 'super soldiers' who are basically programed to operate under psychic control. Think of them as a bunch of robots that have military programming and sit around collecting dust until they are psychically controlled into action. Alma has telekinetic powers, and she was supposed to be able to control them because of that. Sam also could be able to operate them. Dean, since he has Alma's blood now, has a shot at this as well.

4. CHARACTER: Genevieve Aristide is the woman that found Dean outside the Ossuary and took him to the hospital. She's the nutcase in charge of Project Origin, which involves both Alma and the Replica Soldiers. She wants the Replica Soldiers up and running, and she'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

Okay, I hope that clears up some things. Again, I'm sorry if you're confused but Alma blurs reality so it's going to be confusing on purpose. If you have any other questions about the plot, let me know and I'll be happy to clear them up for you. :) Some of you want more Sam in this story, so I'm going to try to put more in from Sam's POV. Remember, this is difficult since Sam is in the tank with Alma. It's a holding cell; not exactly a happy, brightly lit area, and being trapped with Alma is just going to blur reality even more. But I'm going to try for you guys.

Alma was angry.

No, Sam amended, that was the understatement of the century. Alma wasn't angry. Alma was out of her mind furious, and the deep growling sounds she was projecting into his ear didn't bode well for him.

The darkness pushed at him from all sides, and he shuddered. He was back in the tank; blind again, and unable to move.

He was back in the tank with her.

Sam tried to cringe back as he felt tendrils of hair brush across his forehead. He couldn't; she was holding him in place, forcing him to lie still on the floor. His eyes were open and dried out. He couldn't remember the last time he had blinked, or drawn a breath. Only his heart remained beating, deep inside his chest. Sam could hear it pound through the silence of the chamber.

He was helpless as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. "Big brother…" she wined, "Don't you love me?"

Even if Sam had been able to respond, he wasn't sure what he would have said that might have fixed what he had just done. He had saved Dean; he had deliberately worked against her and stopped her from killing his brother. He wasn't sorry—at all—but he knew it wasn't going to win him any points with his telekinetic captor.

"You will love me, big brother," Alma hissed in his ear, raking her fingernails down his face. "You're like me. Father said so. You have to love me."

Sam wished for Dean; he wished that he would come waltzing through the door—wherever the hell it was—and do…what? Punch Alma in the face? Zap her with a Proton Gun and suck her into one of the Ghostbusters traps? What did you do with someone like her, someone who wasn't necessarily even dead?

"No more Dean," Alma said, latching her fingers onto his temples, "You're not to remember him anymore."

Sam felt panic rise up inside of him. What? What did that mean? His head exploded in pain, and he found himself unable even to scream.

"Sssshhh…" Alma whispered, holding on tighter, "This will only take a minute…then you won't remember him. Only me. We'll get revenge on them. They'll pay for what they did to me."

Sam's mind felt like it was on fire; tears poured down his cheeks. He felt thoughts slip from his mind like sand: how he had just saved Dean from Alma, finding this case, fighting with Dean, playing jokes on his brother—

Dean—

Dean—

Dean—

NO!

SNSNSN

A small plastic clock was mounted on the wall above the door. Dean glared at the clock, watched as it ticked away hours of his life—hours he could have spent saving Sam.

He had long ago stopped struggling against his bindings. It was hopeless; the bastards had him in a straightjacket after all, and had bound him with leather belts to the table. He couldn't move, let alone escape. His head still pounded from his earlier fight with Alma, and his entire body was tingling, an ever present reminder that her blood was wreaking havoc with his system.

And so, unable to move or get away, he waited. And waited. And waited.

Five hours after he had woken, the door opened. Genevieve Aristide clicked her way inside the room on her red, three inch high Prada heels. She smiled. "Morning—"

"Where's my brother, you bitch?" Dean shot back, trying to arch his neck so he could glare at her properly. "Where is he?"

Her bubblegum lips pouted as she checked something off her clipboard. "Now Dean, I already told you. He's dead."

"Stop saying that!" Dean boomed, struggling anew against the restraints.

She leaned over him, so close that he could smell her musky perfume. "He's dead."

Dean spat in her face.

She gritted her teeth and delicately wiped the spit from her cheek. She took a step back. "Was that necessary?"

"How do you know?" Dean demanded, "How do you know he's dead?"

"He's with Alma," she said expressively, as though that explained everything.

"He said Alma liked him."

She laughed. "Of course she does. But she'll still kill him. She's a monster," she said, and fell gracefully into the plastic chair beside him.

Dean leaned back against the table, exhausted. "I'm not helping you," he said, "Whatever sick thing you have planned, whatever you want me to do, I'm not doing it."

Her lips twisted. She looked down and picked at her skirt. "Well, that's a real shame," she said slowly, "Because if you work with me, I was going to help you find Sam. I mean…he's with Alma, after all. She's the one we want."

Dean faltered. "You said he was dead."

"Well, yeah," she said, smoothing her skirt back down, "But you'd still find him. Dead or alive, I mean. If you help us capture Alma."

"Sam said…" Dean said, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered, "He said you were the one to watch out for. He said you were evil, that I should stay away from you."

"Dean," she said gently, "You were hallucinating. Sam's with Alma, he wasn't in the hospital. That would be silly."

"Not in my line of work," Dean insisted. "Besides, I'd trust Sam—hallucination or not—over you any day of the week."

Her expression darkened. "Fine," she said, standing up, "Fine. Let Sam die with her, if you want; I don't care."

Dean clenched his jaw shut as she walked to the door.

Right before she left, she paused and half turned to him. "I'll be back in half an hour," she said, "Agree to help us—and find Sam—or rot in here. If he's still alive, like you think he is, I don't think you can help him much if you're trapped in here as a lab rat for the rest of your pathetic life."

Dean watched the door close behind her.

Leave a review please! Thoughts-Good things? Bad things? Should it continue?-are welcome. Thanks for reading.