This is an episode to tag to 14x13, Lebanon, so spoilers for that episode.
Not mine, don't own. This is a work of fan-fiction. Inspired, in part, by "Temporal Paradox" by xube over on Archive of Our Own.
Not beta'd, so any errors are mine.
Author's note: You thought I'd pass up a chance to write about a canon version of Sam in glasses? Do you know me at all? ;)
Cross-posted at Archive of Our Own.
Dean stumbles into the bunker's kitchen, blinking blearily at the overhead light. It's been three days since their father came to visit, pulled forward in time to meet Dean's wish of having his family intact. He's spent most of the time since Dad left holed up in his room asleep. Sam's working theory is that since the spell was centered around Dean, the after-effects are hitting him the hardest. Even so, Dean thought his memories of their time with Dad would fade into a dream-like state, the way they already have for Sam and Mom. When he queried his brother about this, Sam had merely shrugged. "It was your wish, dude." Speaking of Sam...
"What -IS- that?"
Sam looks up from where he's leaning against the industrial kitchen sink, frothy green drink in hand. "I wanted a smoothie after my jog." His brother tucks his sweaty hair behind his ears and slurps at the disgusting, leafy concoction. "I picked up some kale at the farmer's market yesterday. It was really fresh."
Dean's green eyes widen. "Since when do you jog?"
Sam shrugs. "Running, jogging, same thing." His baby brother wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket - and, seriously, when did Sammy buy a windbreaker with reflective racing stripes?
"Is that a Nike logo?" Dean shuffles toward the coffee pot in his dead man slippers. He's clearly going to need fortification to get through this day.
Sam shrugs. "It's just a jacket, Dean." He wrinkles his nose at the old coffee filter in Dean's hand. "That's nasty," he comments, eying the damp grounds.
Dean throws the filter out and adds fresh tap water to the carafe. "You want a cup?" His brother takes so long to answer that Dean turns his bleary eyes on him.
Sam appears befuddled. "Yes?" he finally gets out.
Dean narrows his eyes. Is his brother acting weirder than normal or does Dean simply need an infusion of caffeine? "Is that a yes or a no?"
Sam licks his lips and sets down the smoothie. "I don't know." He wraps his arms around his midsection, long hair dropping into his face as he studies his sneakers. "I'm thinking."
"Sam?" Dean's pushing toward worried now. He turns toward Sam and reties his bathrobe.
"It's like I really want to drink a pot of that stuff-" and here, Dean flinches at the way Sam is referring to his precious coffee, "but I know it'll tear up my insides." He twists his mouth to the side. "Did you know that there are over a thousand chemical compounds in coffee?" At Dean's blank look, Sam sighs. "I'll have just one cup."
Dean rolls his eyes, feels the coils of anxiety start to loosen. "Same as every morning, then." He turns back to the coffee maker and begins to scoop fresh grounds into the machine.
Sam drops on a chair and props his head on one hand. "Yeah, I guess so." He yawns. "I couldn't seem to find my rhythm this morning. I tried a different route, but..." He drums his fingers on the tabletop. "My back's bothering me again."
The unease Dean had pushed away earlier begins to make a reappearance. Why is Sam telling him this? Dean knows that his brother likes to run in the mornings, and Dean has caught him practicing yoga on more than one occasion. Similarly, Sam understands that Dean still follows the same military exercise routine that Dad taught them as kids (plus a few stomach crunches thrown in because of Dean's penchant for junk food). But they rarely exercise together. And they never talk about it, or the chronic injuries they work around.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the kitchen, and Dean takes the opportunity to pour a cup for Sammy and one for himself. "You want creamer?" he asks gruffly, back turned. Please say yes, please say yes...
"Do we still have that hazelnut stuff?" Dean makes a mental fist pump at the question. That's my boy, he thinks.
Dean adds a healthy dollop before setting the mug in front of his brother. "Here ya go, you big girl."
"Ha, ha," Sam huffs. "It's 2019, Dean. Sexual stereotypes are..."
And here, Dean tunes out. This is the baby brother he knows and loves. Sure, altering the timeline may have added a few more leafy vegetables to his brother's diet, but that's okay. He's not going to morph into that freaky TED talk loving, family-hating, Steve Jobs look-alike, right?
Sam is looking at him expectantly, and Dean abruptly realizes that the other man must have asked him a question. He takes a sip of coffee before replying. "What?"
"I asked if you'd seen my reading glasses. I thought I left them in the map room, but I can't find them."
Dean sets his cup down with shaking hands. "You don't wear glasses."
"Of course I do," his brother snaps. Then he stops, and Dean can practically watch the penny drop. Sam's eyes widen as he stares back at Dean. "I kept the ones we used for the hellhounds. I wear them sometimes when my eyes are tired. Helps with the small print." Sam inhales sharply, blows out a deep breath. "I never told you that, did I?"
Dean scrubs at his own eyes. "No."
"I thought I had," Sam's voice takes on a thoughtful quality as he studies his hands. "I've, uh..."
Dean stares at Sam, willing him to continue when he tapers off. When his brother doesn't elaborate, Dean prompts him. "You've, uh, what?"
"I've had really weird dreams since we sent Dad back." He raises his eyes to meet Dean's. "I think I've been dreaming in that other timeline." Sam rubs the scar on the palm of his hand, a gesture that Dean hasn't seen him use in months. "Jess divorced me, you know," he practically whispers, and Dean does not like where this is heading.
"Sam," Dean orders. "That other timeline. It's not real. It's just one possibility in a sea of billions." He waves his hands around. "Wasn't it you that was telling me about that bug thing?"
"'That bug thing'?" Sam echoes. He looks amused, but he's stopped touching his scar, so Dean counts it as a win.
"You know, I squash a bug here and cause an explosion in China or something."
Sam's eyes twinkle, and he is definitely holding back laughter now. "The butterfly effect."
Dean waves a hand and drinks some more coffee.
His brother shrugs. "I guess so. It's just..." Sam swallows hard. "I don't want to be that guy, Dean. He was so lonely." Sam looks at Dean imploringly. "I feel like he's under my skin, just itching to get out." Sam twirls the coffee cup in his hands. "I was surfing the net last night, watching TED talks." He pauses when Dean's head snaps up. "I did that before, too, Dean, don't freak out on me. But this time...next thing I know, I'm on YouTube, thinking about making a video."
Dean swallows hard before asking. "About what?"
Sam dips his head and smiles. "Monsters. And how to kill them." He looks up, meets Dean's wide eyes. "Silly, right? Might as well advertise where we live, what we do."
Sam stands up, cracks his back, and walks over to the sink. Dean fully expects Sam to walk out of the room, like he normally would after revealing so much personal information.
But Sam doesn't. He turns around, leans against the sink, and folds his arms. "I don't want to turn out like that guy," he whispers, studying the cracked tile floor. "But, like it or not, he's a part of me."
Dean stands up, chick flick moment be damned. Dean doesn't ever want to see that douchey version of his brother again either.
He grabs both of Sam's upper arms, forcing his brother to look him in the eyes. "You are not, and will never be, Kale Sam."
His brother snorts.
"Lemme finish. You've told me stuff this morning that we don't ever talk about, right? Like how your back hurts when you run, and how you need glasses?" Sam nods. "So, your first response to this is to open up more to me, not less. You think that's something Kale Sam would ever do?"
Sam's eyes drop again. "He hated you," Sam whispers.
Dean nods. "I figured. Do you hate me, Sam?"
He can feel his brother stiffen as Sam's eyes pop wide. "No, I could never... I mean, sometimes I get so mad that I think I do, but it never lasts... I just..."
Dean pulls Sam into a fierce bear hug to stop the babbling. "Shut up, I'm awesome."
Sam's arms wrap around Dean. His brother tucks his face against the soft flannel bathrobe Dean's wearing and whispers, "Yeah, you are."