What We Have
Authors note: Plot lines, characters weaknesses, desires or motives may have been exaggerated, distorted or changed to fit the purposes of this story.
This is an alternative storyline for 'The End' Season 5 Episode 4. Set directly after Sam and Dean's fateful phone call.
"Whatever we have between us - love, family, whatever it is - they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that"
Sam's POV
The sound of tires on the road hit the inside of the car and fell muffled and silent like dead weights. At the wheel Sam's hands were already shaking. His phone had been lost down the side of somewhere, its backlight fading away. Sam shook and the highway kept thumping on. Dean's voice was ingrained in the air; his cold clipped tones seeping into the enamel like a stain. White knuckled Sam blinked against the low lights that flashed from the highway. He blamed the pain behind the back of his eyes for the sharp pricking of tears but he knew it was wrong; he never could lie to himself all that well. One phone call, one carefully chosen set of words and he was falling apart again, dissolved by the simple truth of it all. They were weaker together, easier to fall, easier to slip back into bad habits like dying for each other. And Sam was the one begging to get back in again, always the last one to know, sitting in the shadow of his big brother. Left to deny the devil alone.
The speedometer peaked as he drove his foot down harder, letting resentment ride him. This was always their way, hate and love, anger and guilt. A cocktail designed to destroy the best of any man but a cocktail nonetheless. More lights, more thumping tires against road and the anger was passing, being replaced by his old friend the raging headache. "Goddamnit Dean" He muttered aloud staring over the wheel through the dashboard, red brake lights staining his whole face. Panic was threatening to overwhelm him, but he swallowed it back down. He knew this had been coming, all these years of pushing Dean further than he could stand. Don't be stupid he told himself you ran Sam you ran. An exit sign "Turn Right for Kansas City" and he keeps driving watching the sign turn red in his rear vision mirror. He'd begun to read between the lines "you're useless" a voice almost like Dean's but thick with derision whispers to him "You're a fucking junkie". A breath snakes out from his locked jaw and he clenches the wheel again as the blood drains from his hands. Their blood; Brother's blood and the only thing they share now.
Sam jerks the steering wheel to the side as the throb from his head worsens. The car wobbles and rights itself sliding onto the gravel on the hard shoulder. Gravel kicks and splutters, clicking against the glass. He is screaming inwardly "please Dean oh god not now", stomping on the brake as the car threatened to lock and spin out. Sliding to a stop, Sam wrenches open the door and spills out. Standing with his hands on his knees he leans over and purges the pain from his stomach. Still he can't get the sound out of his head the sound of that otherworldly voice somewhere in the background of the phone call saying "Dean". Something low down deep in his gut reacted violently to that turn of events.
Sam collapsed to his knees digging gravel into the soft parts of his shins. Everything was coming back to him in hot sick flashes, his hand on the back of Dean's neck digging his fingers into the gaps between the muscles. Sam had pushed so goddamn hard for them, he left for them, to protect what they had done and Dean was throwing it all away with that angel at his shoulder like a twisted Jiminy Cricket conscience. It's not like Sam didn't see what happened behind Castiel's eyes. It's not like he didn't know. He sat there panting feeling the pain wash over him, the car still idling, groaning behind him. Redemption, the name of the game, just as he'd said it to Dean. Redemption for what? Him and Dean were way past saving. All the guilt, all the shame in the world wouldn't change what they were and what they had done. Sam let the tears spill out now, coughing biting back the sobs that blossomed from his chest. He dug his hands into his legs harder his fingers twisting, using the pain to focus.
The smell of leather and vomit shrouded around him, the very smell of late nights in hundreds of hotel rooms where he would say "please Dean". His fingers worked into the grooves on his knees tensing and releasing. Repeating the same simple function just to hold onto what was left. The hunger was back and biting with an appetite, Sam's eyes rolled back as he released his back to lean his face towards the sky. The wind ran straight past and threw itself at the door of the car he'd left behind him, clattering the metal against metal. Sam hoped it would rain, something to change the perfect black blue sky.
Sometime later Sam would drag himself back to the car and lie there for hours shaking and sweating but right now he would sit there contemplating the heavens, mourning the loss of something he never really had to begin with. Whatever they had. He whispers to no one and nothing before the sky closes in "Dean".
Dean's POV
The phone collapsed in his hand in a soft crumpling motion just as the world seemed to collapse as neatly around his ears. Dean gripped the phone tighter in his palms waiting for the solid edges of the plastic to cut through the dreamy sound of memories and moments softly burying him in a snow storm. "Dean" the voice behind him repeated. The cold other worldly voice cut through the softness far faster than the edges of anything anywhere. Dean released his hands and let the phone drop onto the floor with a muffled thump. The unconscious letting go betraying the cool calm exterior he was wearing. The voice behind him flicked his eyes towards the sound then drew slowly back to where Dean was now rising from his chair sighing almost inaudibly.
Dean walked across the motel room still waiting for the weight of what he had done to brush off him. It fluttered from his shoulders in whorls and colours, each piece a memory or sensation. Fingertips touching, Sam as a child clutching a pillow, the smell of gunpowder behind Sam's ear, the color of Sam's blood and their father smiling at them as they fought. "What you did was right" that voice cut through the memories cool and clear and just There, not a whiff of the past or a floating ghost of long nights alone. "You don't know anything Cas" Dean kept moving, the last of the dust of Sam falling off him. Once he crossed the room he veered off and wrenched open the fridge door. From somewhere behind him he could hear Castiel shifting uncomfortably, the drag of his shoes against the floor. Real, Present, There. "Dean I..." "Yeah nothing shut up Cas" Dean's voice held no conviction now as he reached in and pulled a beer from the shelf. Not quite ice cold but fair enough in this Missouri heat.
The flutter of invisible wings and Castiel was behind him, uncomfortably close. The alien chill of him sent goosebumps down Dean's spine "surely now you see the wisdom in my words" Castiel leant forward lips parted. "This isn't about you" Dean twisted the cap off the bottle savagely. Castiel leant backwards abruptly then shifted back into the corner of the room behind the chair where Dean's cellphone was slowly dimming down to nothing. "But Dean I..." "enough Cas" Dean sat down on the bed the springs creaking ominously "it's been a very long night and I'm shot to hell" Dean took a sip of his beer and grimaced, definitely not ice cold. "Alright" Castiel shifted again running a hand along the back of the chair watching the empty phone on the floor as if it might jump up and bite him.
Dean dropped the beer on the bedside table and fell back onto the single bed. He closed his eyes and ran a hand across his forehead. The sensation crackled to life the image of Sam smiling at him lying on a bed very much like this one. Two single beds thank you very much we're brothers. At least that problem was solved. Cas made another movement in the corner which would've been silent had Dean not been so acutely aware of his presence. Dean groaned loudly "Cas what do you want? I need to sleep". "I think we need to talk Dean." 'What is this a Saturday night special?" "I'm supposed to pour my heart out to you and cry on your shoulder?" Castiel twisted his head to the side and shifted forward crossing half the distance between them. "What you and Sam were, was wrong" Castiel released a breath watching Deans face for a reaction. "You don't know anything about what we were" Dean sat up half way and let the anger of the accusation crawl into his voice. "I know what went on in the dark" "what you and him played at when you thought no one was watching" Castiel advanced towards him shifting his head from side to side his face a blank canvas registering nothing. "Cas you better back off right now" Dean said through gritted teeth. Castiel's face faltered looking around as if unsure of himself "I'm sorry Dean". He paused digesting his words "I just need you to understand". Dean rolled his knuckles "I understand plenty!" "You don't think that it plays on my mind every day?" "You think I don't hate myself for letting it go on?" Dean lay back on the bed, not tonight, it was done, and he had done what was right for him, Sam and the whole world. Not tonight. "I need sleep Cas" Dean repeated covering his face in both hands.