Title: When I Close My Eyes
Characters: Sam, Dean (not slash)
Rating: T (for mild language)
Word Count: 2,444
POV: Dean (first person)
Tags: Swan Song (w/references to Pilot, A Very Supernatural Christmas)
Summary: (SPOILERS FOR S5, S6)… Dean is trying to figure out what his life is supposed to be like without Sam. As it turns out, it's not as easy as "apple-pie."
Notes: I was listening to the song "All Around Me" by Flyleaf, so there are lyrics from that in here
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Supernatural. Neither do I own the song lyrics that I borrowed.
If I'm gonna be completely honest, which I don't do very often, I would say that I don't remember a lot from that first month. I guess I'll risk soundin' kinda cliché, but for a couple of weeks my memory is just a blur of faces and blank spots and a giant bottomless black hole. A hole so big that it had its own gravitational pull… and if I went anywhere near it, it was gonna suck me in. Just like it did when it stole my last anchor to sanity. When it robbed me of the most valuable thing I ever had, and the only thing I had left. Lookin' back on those days is like opening your eyes in pond water; it stings so much that you'd rather just close your eyes again, you don't see much because the water is so foggy anyway, and then your eyes still hurt when It's all over. So I try not to think about it too much.
And I didn't. I didn't think about Sam for a long time. I couldn't think about Sam. Because if I did, I was gonna fall into that big black merciless evil gaping hole. So Cas fixed me up and I got in the Impala and I drove. I drove outta that godforsaken cemetery and I did not look back; headed straight to Bobby's place and the only thing I thought about were the lines on the road. I can't tell you if it was day or night, if it rained or if there was traffic or if I even stopped. I don't know how much time went by before I left the cemetery, or how long I drove, or if I spent three hours or three days at Bobby's house. The second the ground swallowed Sam up, time didn't seem to matter anymore. Time didn't even seem to exist anymore.
Somehow, I ended up with Lisa and Ben. Sam wanted it for me. Sam thought it would make me happy. Sam thought it would save me from everything we've been through, from our past. Sam, Sam, Sam.
Sam…Damn there are so many things I wanted to say to you. I should've said to you. I wish I could say to you now.
I guess you could say things got better after a while. Better is kind of a relative term. It's not like everything was all lollipops and candycanes (Sam said that once, didn't he?). It couldn't be. But I started building up a different kind of life for me. I got a job, like one of those same-location, regular-hours, weekly-paycheck kind of jobs; I had a house, with a family I went back to every day; I did chores. Or, well, I do chores. The novelty has kinda worn off.
It's weird, this apple-pie, white-picket-fence life. I grew up a soldier, a hero, a revolutionary, a vigilante, a kamikaze - take your pick. I can use just about any standard weapon - and a good number of not-so-standard ones - with a pretty high level of effectiveness, I've killed more people and creatures than I can count (even if I tried really hard), I know how to run every basic scam and con in the book (though my skills in that area are higher when I've got a partner), I throw my life on the line for other peoples' safety without expecting them to even know about it let alone thank me, and I have a knack for dying and being brought back by angels. So this steady, every day doing the same thing, simple life… yea, it's kinda crazy to me.
But the real crazy thing is thinking about my brother in the past tense. It feels like someone took a chisel and broke my life in two, so that there's the part where I had Sam and the part where I didn't, and between them is a big black nothingness that can't be bridged. It's like Sam was there, then I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again it was as if he'd been nothing but my imagination.
Sam. Sammy. Come back to me. Prove me wrong. Prove that you're real.
Most of the time, I'm okay. I mean, really, I'm doing alright. I wake up in the morning next to a beautiful woman, and sometimes we have sex and sometimes we just cuddle and she looks at me like I'm a mixture between something perfect and something tragic. I shower, I eat breakfast with the family, I go to work, and all day while I'm there I just joke with the guys and I don't think about anything else except my job. Then I come home and we eat dinner, watch some tv, work on Ben's homework, and then Lisa and I tuck in.
But there are times.
My hands are searching for you.
There are times when I will space out.
My arms are outstretched towards you.
Totally unexpected.
I feel you on my fingertips.
My eyes just go unfocused.
My tongue dances behind my lips for you.
And his name drops out of my mouth before I can stop it. Sam. Sammy. My Sammy.
This fire rising through my being
Burning, I'm not used to seeing you
The first time it happened was during dinner one night, shortly after I moved in with Lisa. I was sitting at the table having a drink, Lisa was serving up the plates, and Ben was chattering away about school or something. I was listening to him, I promise you that much, but the taste of the whiskey and the smell of the fresh fall air, and the darkness outside the window creeping in on me, I guess I just started zoning out.
This was still during those sort of zombie-like days, when I just went through the motions without really thinking or being. Lisa never brought it up, so she musta been used to it when I sorta slipped away like that. But through the fog of those days, I remember this one perfectly. I remember it because it was the first time I thought about Sam since he tripped into Hell and shattered my soul forever. I'd been trying so hard not to think about him for so long that it took me by surprise when Lisa and Ben disappeared, and Sam reappeared. I swear he was right there next to me.
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
It was like he was standing right next to me, leaning in to me. The heat, on my whole right side, like he was pressed up against me, his hand on my shoulder, his breath on the side of my face. I wanted to close my eyes and see him; my whole heart ached to remember him exactly the way he once was, as if just the memory were strong enough to bring him back, but my brain told me that I might not like what I saw if I closed my eyes, that my imagination might make me see horrible things instead.
But the temptation was too strong. Taking a silent breath, I plunged into the darkness. And I could see him like he'd never left. Flannel shirt, forest green jacket, floppy hair, and those beautiful incredibly wonderful hazel-green eyes that shone when he smiled. I could feel my blood pounding as the emotions swept through me, everything that I'd been trying so hard to hold back; sadness, anger, frustration, despair, desperation, confusion, love, hate, loneliness. He just smiled, smiled like he loved me, eternally and unconditionally, forgiving me for everything I'd done and releasing me from blame for the things that hadn't been my fault. It killed me.
Holding on to what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
Then it was over. I slipped out of my trance as quickly as I'd slipped into it, and just like that he was gone. The heat from his body faded, and I desperately wanted to put my hand to my cheek to hold his warmth there.
I'm not gonna pretend that I was a good person in that moment. It wasn't a proud one for me. Because right then and there, I started thinking about Sam again… and when I let myself start thinking about him, I let myself start wishing for things that I could never have. Like Sam. I would have given anything to have my brother back… including the two people who were very physically with me at the time, even though I was in another world in my head. I'd have sacrificed anything, or anyone, to have him next to me again, for real.
That was when the nightmares started. I'd already done my time in Hell, I knew what it was like… and I knew that Sam was probably getting it a hundred times worse. Night after night for months I woke up thrashing, drenched in sweat, shaking and breathless and scared out of my mind. The worst part was the desperation that I felt afterwards; I had to force myself to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling while tapping my fingers on my thighs, because in reality I was so worked up about saving Sam that I felt like I would explode if I wasn't moving. Some nights, I would go down to the office and pace until the sun rose, not really trying to come up with a plan, but just circling round and round like my thoughts.
When I started making friends with the neighbors and the teachers and the other parents, life got busy. Weekends filled up, then weeknights, and then I was too exhausted to think about anything except this strange new life. Which is when I started freaking out a little bit. On the one hand Sam wanted this for me, begged and pleaded and forced it on me, and on the other hand I just wanted Sam back, and I was afraid that I was starting to let him slip away. God, please spare me for even daring to put this thought into words, but the truth is that Sam's my other half, okay? My soul isn't whole without Sam. I didn't know what to do.
My hands float up above me
Except there he was again, answering all my silent prayers. I could still see him, clear as day, whenever I wanted to. All I had to do was close my eyes, and he'd be there.
And you whisper you love me
And I begin to fade
Into our secret place.
It felt like my own little secret. OUR little secret. I could share everything from this life with him; he wouldn't have to miss anything.
The music makes me sway.
The angels singing say we are alone with you
I am alone and they are too with you
For a while, it was okay like that. I was broken, and this little thing I had was the tape that was holding me together. But "a while" turned in to three months, which quickly became six, which faded into eight, and it then it wasn't enough anymore. I was losing him; I was losing my Sammy.
Today it will be ten months to the day since Sam sacrificed himself to save the world. My little brother is a hero, and I'm just the splintered shadow that got left behind. I'd have gone with. I'd have taken his place. I'd have done anything to save him.
The Sammy in my head when I close my eyes is fading now. He's soft around the edges, sort of glowing, and the colors are almost entirely gone. He hasn't aged at all, though, which is weird because sometimes when I look in the mirror I don't recognize myself and I wonder if he would be just as shocked.
So I cry
Holy
The light is white
Holy
And I see you
These days are exactly the opposite from the ones in the beginning. Back then, the hole was so big and scary and full of hurt that I was afraid to go too close to it. Now, that big evil merciless gaping hole is calling my name, promising me that if I jump in I'll find the Sam I've been slowly losing over all this time.
Nearly a year has gone by. How can that be possible? How can I still be alive, when half of me has been gone for so long? How can I still being going when I feel so broken? Every morning before I open my eyes, I pray for it all to have been a horrible dream. I beg and I plead and I make promises to myself and to Sam and to God and to the world. Silence. And after it sinks in that it can't be a dream, I imagine my Sammy.
My little baby brother, soft and warm in my arms, all the life in his tiny defenseless body depending on me. Three years old, following me around so closely that the hems of my pants are tattered just as much from him stepping on them as they are from personal use. Five years and asking me for a bed time story "just one more time" after I've already told him too many, eight years old and handing me the amulet that will carry me through my entire life, eleven and asking me to take him to the library for more books, fourteen and putting my fighting lessons to good use. All the looks, the unspoken words, the awkward hugs that I'd gladly trade an arm to have the chance to give one more time, the times I patched him back up and made him whole again. My little brother. My Sam.
And I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding on to what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
This is what I allow myself every morning before I wake up. Before anything or anyone else can have my attention, I tell the universe that today I am giving it another chance to return my brother to me, and if it does, I will never take him for granted again.
So far, that hasn't happened.
So every night when I go to bed, I close my eyes and I open myself up again, and I send my Sammy another invitation back into my life.
Take my hand
I give it to you
Now you own me
All I am
You said you would never leave me
I believe you
I believe
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