A/N SHould I be writing other one-shot stories while working on a chapter for my main chapter story? probably not, but hey, in my defense, writing Falling is a really strenuous activity. I mean, angst levels are on a constant high, people! Argh. Anyway, I had this baby all typed up and ready to post days ago, but Real Life decided ton drop a bomb on me. I had to study for my Geography finals which just happened to be right after my History finals, (NOT fun, people, NOT. FUN.) and then on top of that, my cat Castiel got sick (Yes, he's named after the angel... shut up. I'm a fangirl and I accept it.) and I've been trying to keep my three other cats Mani, May, and Sammy (who is, in fact, named after me... ) from catching the same cold that Cas has got. Oh and my dog, Niko, well, she's got her whole false pregnancy stuff going on and believe me, it's hard to write when you've got a clingy yet temperamental dog walking behind you all day. Oh and, if there are inconsistencies with the dialogue from the season eight episode... I'm sorry, I tried to keep 'em as accurate as possible, but some of the lines got kinda muddled... Okay, well, this story just decided to slide off of my fingertips onto my cellphone so, yeah, blame the words if you cry, they've got a mind of their own! :P ~Sammy
He was eighteen when he left, when he broke your heart for the first time. The fight had been the worst you'd ever seen, both Sam and Dad screaming at each other like banshees, flinging curses and accusations at each other, with no regard to you getting caught in the crossfire. It was the mother of all arguments, the freaking apocalypse didn't scare you as much as this fight did. Sam's puppy eyes had been blazing when he turned to look at you, the acceptance letter clutched in his hands, and your heart chilled at what was coming next. He looked you in the eye, and demanded to know whether or not you were going to go with him to California. You look at him, and the past eighteen years hit you hard. As if you could ever live without your Sammy. It's impossible. You were just about to say yes, just about to walk out of this life with him by your side, when Dad said your name.
The tone was pleading, tired, resigned. You couldn't hear the drill seargent that had been passing as your father for the past eighteen years in that voice, you could only hear your father, the one you had before that fire that changed him. You were four again, you were safe, that voice meant picket fences, apple pies, and white christmases, that voice meant Mom.
All your resolve dropped away at that voice, because you're hunting the thing that took Mom away forever, that took your father away, that put a soldier back in his place, that took away your childhood, that made Sam hide his decision to go to Stanford. You can't just let it go. Not even for Sammy. Especially for Sammy.
You shake your head at your little brother, and you can see tears in his eyes. His shoulders drop, amd for one amazing second, you think that he's given up, that he's not leaving you, that he's staying, here, where he belongs. Then he hitches up his duffel bag, and turns around without a word. He's walking to the door of the piece of crap motel room you're staying in, when Dad gives him that stupid ultimatum. Sam doesn't even hesitate, he just opens the door, steps out, and slams it shut behind him. He didn't even spare you a second glance, he's gone, without a goodbye.
The motel room is deathly silent, and Dad stares at the still trembling door for half a second, before his eyes turn blank. He sits down at the battered table, and pulls out a whole bottle of cheap bourbon, taking large swigs without even flinching at the burn of the alcohol. You lnow that you should stop him, that you should go after Sam, that you should move. But you just can't. It's too much. The world has ended, so why should you do anything? Your purpose is gone, it stormed out of the room, it left you behind, it's not coming back. So why should you live?
Your Dad passes out at the table, the bottle is empty, lying at his feet. It's been hours since that door was closed, but you still haven't moved an inch. Finally, your knees give way, and you collapse, falling to the floor, not giving a damn bout the pain that shoots up your shoulder. You curl up, and finally, you cry. You cry and cry, the tears never stopping, the sobs never pausing, the grief never letting up, overwhelming you. He's gone, he's never coming back. The grief, the despair, the agony, it suddenly disappears, only to be replaced with something much worse. The only thought in your head, Sam betrayed you.
"So, I just fixed up the Impala, and... drove." he says, but you can tell that he's not telling you the complete truth.
You crush those feelings, push 'em aside, because, this is Sam. He's your little brother. If you can't trust him, who can you trust? Yeah sure, you've got Benny, and Cas is too painful to think about, but Sammy always comes first. Right?
"After you looked for me..." you say, because, of course he looked for you. You were in purgatory for a year, how could he not have searched Hell and the High Heavens, not have torn the Earth to shreds looking for you, because he's Sam, and you were gone. For a whole year. Of course he looked for you.
Except, he's not meeting your eyes, and his shoulders have slumped a bit, and there's that little twitch in his hands that only you could catch. Sam's hiding something for sure, you just know it. It's like you're twelve again, and he's eight, and he's trying to hide that fact that Billy Starson was bullying him in school. The same furtive glances, the same shifty eyes, the same attempt to smother an arising grimace. Yet, it's different, because Sam's not hiding his weakness, not trying to make you think that he's happy, no, he's hiding something that's eating away at him. It's scaring you.
But, you're not children anymore, and after everything you've been through together, he has to know better than to hide things from you, right? Sam still hasn't said a word, and you are starting to feel uncomfortable. In spite of yourself, you can feel your temper rising. And in your mind, that ridiculous idea that you had disregarded so easily, strikes again, and this time, you find yourself thinking it to be more and more likely.
"Did you look for me Sam?"
Silence. He won't meet your eyes, and something's breaking. It might be your control, it might be your patience, it might be the bones in his face, it's definitely your heart. It hurts so much, it just hurts so damn much. Hell was nothing, Alistair was nothing, this past year in purgatory was nothing, losing Cas was nothing, compared to what you feel now. Sam, your precious Sammy, has betrayed you. He gave you up, left you for dead. You were gone for a year, a whole goddamn year, and he just upped and left? Didn't bother to even spare you a second thought?
"Good, good" you say, trying not to punch him, but it's so freaking close. "That's what we always promised each other." And you did. You had always sworn that if one of you finally kicked the bucket, the other would move on, would live a normal life, would mourn, but not try to bring the other back. That's what you both vowed to do. As if either of you would ever truly keep that promise, you are the Winchester brothers, stubbornness runs through your veins.
"Of course, we never really did because of our undying love for each other, but... not this time, right Sammy?"
He looks broken, he looks sorry, he looks defiant. You can't stand to see him, can't bear to look your baby brother in the eye, knowing that he betrayed you. Because this is just that, a betrayal. Sam is the one you sold your soul for, you went through forty years of Hell for him, you practically raised him, you gave up everything for him. You two are soulmates, you both share your heaven for God's sake!
Sam is thirty when he's tearing you apart. You didn't save the world from the apocalypse. How could you have? The world's ending now, right in front of your eyes. Because Sam has betrayed you, and it's Stanford all over again.
A/N Don't say I didn't warn you... I sincerely apologize for any tears, depression, anxiety or arousal of homicidal tendencies this story may have caused, please don't kill me... *Shoves boxes of tissues at you and runs for cover* ~Sammy