Title: I Won't See You Tonight
By: EsTeLwEnadia
Summary: Pre-series. The first thing Sam did upon reaching Palo Alto, was to hit a bar. Only to be drowned in liquor, memories and emotions.
Rating: Major Sam's angst.
Disclaimer: All of the Supernatural isn't mine. Neither is Sam. And sadly, regretfully, neither is Dean.
Author's Note: Title is derived from an Avenged Sevenfold song. They might not have heard of the band, or liked it, but I do (very much so) and as I listen to the song I put myself in Sam's shoes. Hence, the fic is born. And I'm actually a DEAN person, but it is kinda nice to torture Sam for a bit. *winks*
As always, comments and constructive criticism are immensely appreciated.
Go on… read and enjoy!
The bar was dark and dingy. Strangely silent. That was just as well, Sam thought, making his way towards the booth. Drenched to the skin and not bothering to remove his dripping jacket, he plonked down and immediately asked for a beer, ignoring the pointed look of the bartender. Beer was served, and Sam was left alone.
And he was completely, utterly alone.
A mournful note started to play, and its despondency stabbed his heart in a strange, melancholic way. It was as though… it was crying. He gripped the bottle tightly, wet bangs shielding his eyes. He would be damned if he let the song affect him. But he was alone, his defenses were pretty much destroyed, mask cracked. And there was no one else who would see, and care. He swigged down half of his beer in one lengthy gulp, intending to drown the perverse emotion but when the vocals started, the perverse emotion pulled him down under.
He left them all behind. The hunting life. The supernatural. His family. Dean. He didn't much look back, pretended he didn't hear Dean's choked pleas for him to stay. Ignored Dad's frightened shout for Dean when his brother collapsed senseless on the wet muddy ground as he hastened his pace, anxious to leave it all behind and start a brand new, normal, life.
Nonetheless, he couldn't deny the tears that dripped down his cheeks, mixing with the relentless rain. Couldn't deny the pain that accompanied every step away. He soldiered on anyway, bolstered by the thoughts of no more nights hunting down evil son-of-bitches, no more pain of watching Dean getting hurt and bleeding and at times, dying. Still, as he trudged on alone in the rain, it took all of his strength to leave Dean behind. Dean. The one person who practically raised him, sacrificed for him, protected him, loved him. But he had to do it. He had to make the change. The desire to set a path for himself, he had to do it, even if it meant he won't see them again.
Sorrow sank deep inside his blood when he stared at Dean. He could feel something building up inside of him, a place so dark, so cold, he had to set it free. Tears blurred his vision. "Dean," he began, his voice hitching with suppressed sobs. "Don't mourn for me, alright? You're not the one that placed the blame. Don't forget me or cry while I'm away. Please."
That earned him an affectionate slap to his head. "Don't be silly. Me? Cry? You're outta your mind." Their gazes locked. I won't forget you, Sammy, Dean's intense emerald eyes seemed to be saying. And Sam's tears started to fall.
He downed the rest of his beer and signaled for another one. As bottles call my name, I won't see you tonight. Snorting, he tossed back his drink and wiped his mouth. Waited for the burn in his eyes and throat to lessen, then downed in another. Gestured for another bottle and began the process all over again. And again. And again.
*****************************
(Flashback)
"I'm sorry I can't see myself that way," he said to Dean. "I can't see how hunting can fit into my life. I can't see how you and Dad see it, but I know that hunting won't be a part of my life anymore. I'll be going away. Just… don't follow me, if you don't want to. And while I'm gone, everything will be alright. Trust me, Dean. It will be alright. It has to be alright."
Dean never said anything, just looked at him with that quietly piercing gaze. Then he went back to polishing his weapons, slow, sure, steady, focused. Pointedly ignoring Sam. And Sam felt all sorts of wrong, squirming guiltily in his seat until he couldn't stand it any longer. He stood to leave, and heard Dean say, "You go do whatever you want, Sammy. Just… take care and stay safe. You gotta promise me that."
Sam turned to look at Dean, who stared resolutely back at him. For a moment Dean stripped his defenses, and Sam could clearly see the pain, the reluctance of letting Sam go but still let him go because it was exactly what Sam had ever wanted. The anger, the betrayal, the helplessness and grief that there was nothing Dean could do to make his little brother stay. Sam felt humbled and shakened, and could only whisper a choked "I promise, Dean."
Defenses were immediately up to mask the orbs of intense green, and Dean nodded slightly. He returned his attention back to his weapons, ignoring Sam once again.
"I'm going out to get us dinner," Sam told him. When Dean gave no reply, he left the room with heavy footsteps and even heavier heart.
(End of flashback)
*****************************
By now a steady stream of tears dripped down Sam's cheeks. The strong shoulders quivered, his head bowed with the intensity of his emotions. He was only mad at Dad, left for Stanford only to spite him, but he hadn't count on Dean to be caught in the crossfire. He hadn't count on hurting Dean. God, no, not Dean. And yet, Dean was the most affected casualty.
"Are you alright?" A soft, gentle voice startled him out of his anguish. He jerked his head up, and spun around to look at the speaker. Then the time froze.
She was beautiful. Soft tresses of blond hair cascaded on her shoulders, framing her angular face and accentuating her almond blue eyes that narrowed in faint worry and concern. She wore a halter-neck blouse with long sleeved black cardigan. Nothing special, but the simplicity of it all stole Sam's breath away.
Sam shook himself off the trance, averted his gaze. "I'll be fine," he all but whispered. Then he cleared his throat, and repeated firmly, this time looking at her and giving her a slight, if not, a little wobbly, smile. "I'll be fine." Already he felt better. Things would be fine. That's for sure.
She smiled back. "That's great to hear." She extended a slender hand. "My name is Jessica Moore." Her grin deepened, with a touch of dimples.
"Sam Winchester is mine." Sam responded, smiling genuinely now.
Jessica blushed slightly. "I didn't see you around here before."
"I'm from Kansas," Sam told her. "I am heading for Stanford, actually."
At that, Jessica's eyes widened in surprise, then concealed excitement.
"Did you just say…Stanford?"
He looked at her with an arched eyebrow, but dug out his letter and showed it to her. She grasped it with wonder in her eyes, and raked the letter with enthusiasm. He watched her, fascinated.
"Holy cow," she whispered, amazed. "A full ride to Stanford! That is awesome! And guess what? I'm in Stanford, too! From the looks of it, you are gonna be in my year, and hey, my course, too! And I bet you gonna room in with Nick. 'Coz he is the only guy in the entire year without a room-mate! Oh man, this is so cool!"
She tugged insistently at Sam's arm. "C'mon. Come home with me. I bet you haven't got any place to stay yet. My family won't mind at all. Then, when school reopens, I'm gonna bring you there and show you around!"
Sam had no choice but to follow her. He slapped a hefty tip on the booth and allowed himself to be dragged away out from the bar into the streets.
"Wait, Jess," he fumbled, trying to slow down, to stop and think.
When Jessica turned to look at him, suddenly Sam forgot what to think.
Puppy eyes, Sam understood now, what Dean had been trying to tell him all along. That dewy, shining eyes full of hope. And why Dean had been giving in every single time.
"Sam?"
He blinked. "Oh yeah, Jess, let's go."
And he could feel it, deep inside his heart, the pain easing off a tiny bit at a time.
He could do this. If he wasn't sure before, he was sure now.
No more breath inside,
Essence left my heart tonight.
Still, there was a hollowness, a gaping wound in his heart, that Sam couldn't quite deny.
(Meanwhile)
When Dean opened his eyes, when the darkness refused to abate, Dean knew, somehow, that Sam was gone. And he wasn't coming back.
There was this large piece of something missing, a pang of loneliness, emptiness so deep Dean's breath hitched at their onslaught. The pain was unlike anything he had ever known, past broken bones, deep stab wounds, burns, countless slams against the walls, bruises upon bruises. And there wasn't anything Dean could do to quell the agony. Not right now, when his body was weak and trembling with burning fever.
It didn't matter now. Sam was gone. And Dean didn't have to look at Dad to know that Dad wasn't too far off.
Dean closed his eyes, and let darkness consumed him. Tonight, he was too tired to fight. Inside, he was already dead.
No more breath inside,
Essence left my heart tonight.
- End -
Thank you.
I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.