Moments

Summery:

A nightmare of Sam's brings a morning of pain and love.

Warnings:

Language and angst… that's all. This is a rant so please excuse the plot-less-ness of this. Set season 1 after "Nightmare" or so.

There are moments in everyone's life that define who you are. When a split second instinctual decision stays with you forever and one choice changes everything.

The crisp autumn pricked Sam's skin as he plowed ungracefully towards the cliffside where his brother knelt, waiting for death. Sam was running at a speed he'd never touched before, a speed brought on by sheer terror but even still he knew he wasn't going to make it. The man, the cop, standing behind Dean's kneeling form was already withdrawing his gun. He was already pressing the barrel into the back of Dean's neck and cocking it.

Sam was screaming his brother's name knowing that the high ocean winds were stealing his voice away. Dean's back was to him, his brother facing the water high over it on the cliffside. Helpless and unreachable. Sam and time staggered to a stop as he brought his own gun up, ready to fire. It was an easy shot, his aim was perfect, one to the back of the cop's head and this would be all over. Dean would be safe. Sam's finger played on the trigger as the wind stopped moving and the tide froze. He knew abruptly, horribly really, that he wasn't going to shoot. He knew that he couldn't kill this cop for doing his job and with that realization time rushed forward and Sam flinched violently as the cop fired. Dean's body leaned forward, spraying the cop with blood as he fell off the cliff into the lashing waves below. Sam's mouth went dry as he watched his brother's decent and then he swung the gun around towards himself, his finger still on the trigger and -

- woke up sweating, shaking from the suddenness as reality raced back. Dean came to instantly in the hotel bed across from him, sensing the latent urgency in the room. "Sam?" His voice was groggy, searching for a reason to go back to sleep or a need to wake up more fully.

Sam tried to answer him, to lie, to simply reassure him things were fine and to go back to sleep but he couldn't speak just yet. His whole body was shaking with tons of adrenaline coursing through him, he knew that if he spoke his voice would shake, so he stay quiet, trying hard to calm down. He looked over at his brother, honestly half expecting to see blood pouring down his neck from the gun shot but saw only concern and tightly reigned anger.

Angry at me? Sam wondered ideally, confused and unqualified at the moment to make any type of Dean assessment.

"Another vision? Do we need to get going somewhere?" Dean asked, his voice tight, anger barely veiled.

"No." Answered Sam too quickly with a shaky voice. His head was pounding, vision-run off as normal but Sam wasn't ready to admit this was a possible future just yet. He stood too suddenly and as pain lanced through the back of his skull he staggered, throwing out a hand to prevent him from falling and found Dean there to stop him.

"Easy there. I've got you." Dean steadied him as Sam clung to him briefly but tightly. Gripping his t-shirt in the darkness and feeling Dean's heart beating strongly through the thin material gave Sam the reassurance he needed for the moment. Sam broke contact finally having his breathing more under control and as the dream fled more completely, his headache eased into a dull hum in the back of his head. Sam pushed away from Dean, irrationally embarrassed and guilty and retreated to the bathroom.

Dean let him go, watching him worriedly. This wasn't by far the first time he'd woken to Sam's nightmares. It wasn't even the first time he'd woken to one of Sam's visions but it was the first time he'd woken to Sam screaming out his name in the middle of the dark. That single sound had sent Dean straight into panic and his heartbeat was only now starting to go back to normal. He sat down on his bed and waited for Sam to come out of the bathroom.

Sam splashed water on his face, revealing in the cold bite of the liquid chilling his skin. He could barely make out his reflection in the blackness of the bathroom but he was sure his eyes were haunted and misty. He was sure he looked a mess and he even tried to straighten out his hair a little bit because he was also sure that Dean was waiting for him on the other side of the door. Waiting for an explanation for why he'd been woken up in the dead of night by a terrified Sam. Sam sighed to himself somewhat dreading this coming confrontation. He would have given a lot to avoid trying to explain why he'd just let his brother die since he couldn't quite explain it to himself. He opened the door slowly and made his way back to his bed. He stretched out his long legs and lean up heavily against the wall. "Sorry I woke you."

Dean leaned over and switched the light on. He shook off the apology. "How's your head?"

Sam shrugged, sensing the trap but tripping it anyway. "A little better." But before Dean could leap in pointing out that therefore it WAS a vision contrary to what he had just said Sam rushed on. "I'm fine, really. Look, let's just go back to sleep and -"

Dean sat up fully, staring at his brother like he'd just lost his mind. "Go back to sleep? You wake my ass up screaming my name and you want to just go back to sleep?" The anger was back in his voice.

Sam looked down at his hands. He didn't know he'd screamed out Dean's name. "I'm sorry." It felt so inadequate, so lame but he didn't know what else to say. He'd just betrayed his brother in the dream, still not ready to let it be a vision. How do you make up for that? How do you even admit to that?

Dean looked at him sharply. "For what?"

For what? Thought Sam incredulously, for letting you die maybe. For doing nothing. For being weak. Out loud he said nothing, just sat there mutely, unable to fully shake the emotions of losing his brother on that cliffside. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, waiting for him to answer. He heard Dean sigh.

Dean was angry and scared to hell. Demons, spirits, ghosts all these things were frightening sure, but he knew how to fight them. He knew the rules that governed their existence and he knew what to do. Or at least, he and Sam could always figure it out. These were all forces of evil, but from the outside. Sam was right. It had never been so solidly inside before until now and Dean Winchester didn't know what to do. He was at a complete loss in fact and that feeling scared him and angered him more than anything else. He was just sitting here while Sam dealt with these night terrors, these headaches and this frustrating vision alone. He felt powerless to act. Helpless and pointless in his life. There was nothing that he hated more than that. Dean knew he was failing and he couldn't see a way to change that. Forcing his voice to be light and smooth he asked, "Hey so, wanna tell me about your dream?"

Sam's voice was quiet. "Not really."

Dean pressed. "How about why you were calling my name out?"

Sam lifted his head finally looking at him, giving in a little. "You were by a cliff." He paused, trying to decide how much to say. "I couldn't get there in time."

"In time for what?"

Sam ran his hands through his long hair, pushing it momentarily out of his eyes. "Before this guy, a cop, killed you. Executed you really."

Dean swallowed, taking that in and plunging on. "Then what?"

That brought Sam's head back to his hands. Then he had killed himself and there was no way he was sharing that. Not especially after what they'd both been through with Max. "Then nothing, then I woke up."

Dean eyed him closely for the moment accepting the lie. "Yeah sure." He swallowed hard again, comforting people wasn't really his thing but Sam was different. For Sam he could do anything. "So a cop huh?" He laughed slightly causing Sam to look up at him. "That's a little boring don't you think? I mean, come on, your subconscious doesn't think I could handle one cop?"

Sam smiled slightly. "Oh sure, leave it to you to get offended."

Dean smirked in response. "Well someone has to defend my skills."

"Protect your ego, you mean." Sam rubbed his face with his hands as Dean stood up and brought him water and painkillers.

"Here, take these." He slapped the pills into Sam's hand and watched his swallow them down like an over attentive nurse. "Sam, seriously, I'm not going to get popped by so random cop by a cliff, okay? So stop worrying."

"You're right. You're not." Sam's voice was hard and dangerous. "Besides, it's not a vision, it's just a normal nightmare."

Dean lay back down on his bed. "Yeah, a normal nightmare that you're not telling me all of."

Sam never had been very good at lying, certainly not to his brother. "It doesn't matter okay, the point of it kinda ended when you died anyway."

Dean tightened his jaw. "I wasn't the only one in the dream though, was I?"

Sam froze. Damn him, he already knew. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dean's anger flared back. "It means why don't you stop being so stubborn and just tell me the whole thing. There was more after I was shot, wasn't there? Something that you did maybe." Dean's fear was making him insightful. It was a typical Winchester trait. When someone ups the ante on you, you have to rise to the challenge.

Sam wouldn't look at him, confirmed his fears. Dean continued on, anger and fear warring for domination inside him. "Sam, just because you can't get to me, doesn't mean everything's all over. There's still -"

Sam cut in emotionally "Still what, Dean? Miles to go before I sleep? So many things left for me to see and do? Don't you get it? There IS no more after that. You dying, that's pretty much end game." The sun was coming up and a silence filled the hotel room. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and said after a time, "we might as well get up and check out now." Sam got up and started the routine of packing as Dean watched.

"Is that the reason though?" Dean's voice was calmer than it had been.

Sam's back was to him as he packed his clothes into his duffle. "Your dying isn't enough of a reason?"

Dean knew his brother. He knew he loved him without question and he knew he'd die for him if he had to but he also knew that Sam would think about their father too. John Winchester had lost so much, his wife, his entire life, given it all up to try to help prevent other people from suffering as he had. Dean knew that as much as Sam cared about Dean, Dean's dying wouldn't have been enough to make Sam end it all because of his love and loyalty for his father. Even if Sam didn't know that at the time. So there had to be something else. Some actual reason to make Sam feel like he deserved to die and Dean was going to figure it out.

Even if he had to torture his little brother to get it. Time to bring in the big guns, honesty. "So you didn't think about how Dad would feel then? To lose both his kids in the same day?" Sam stopped moving, his back ridged. Dean took a breath, prepared to be cruel. "Why not make the date November 2nd, you know, really rub it in."

He knew it had been harsh but he wasn't entirely prepared for the fierce and immediate reaction of Sam. Sam spun around and grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him into the air in almost one fluid motion and then twisted Dean around midair to stand with him face to face. His eyes were on fire with pain. "Look me in the eye Dean and tell me that I would ever do anything to hurt Dad. That I would purposefully try to destroy him? Tell me that I'm capable of hurting the people I love?"

Dean knew he was close and he also knew that he couldn't back down. Apologize later, he needed Sam back now. "Seems like your dream already proved that to you Sammy. What did you do? Lie about the cop and shoot me yourself?"

Sam was already releasing him, shaking his head violently, not understanding the purpose to Dean's cruelty. "Of course not, I would never-" He stopped a moment before uttering the lie. He had shot Dean, in that horrible asylum months ago. "I didn't shoot you this time." His voice was weak and trembling and Dean's resolve to be strong and tough was crumbling with it. "I had a shot. A perfect shot actually but I didn't take it. I could have taken the cop out and you would have been safe but I couldn't do it. I just kept thinking about this normal guy, with a wife and kids just like mom and we were and I couldn't do it. I couldn't orphan those kids and I couldn't widow his wife. Not even to save you."

Dean nodded slowly, understanding completely and a strange feeling of pride swept over him as he stared at the man his brother had just become. "That's a hard choice to make Sammy. Choosing between what is right and what you want is never easy. Sounds like you did the right thing."

Sam looked up at his brother, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "The right thing? I betrayed you, I betrayed our family. I put a random stranger's life before yours. How could that have been-"

"Sam, that's what we do every day. That's why we hunt things. To protect the random strangers from all the horrible things out there and damn it, if I'm a casualty of that fight, then that's fine by me." Sam tried to cut him off but Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "So long as you understand that this is all my choice."

Sam's voice was almost petulant. "I'm not going to let you die." Then almost too quietly for Dean to hear he whispered. "I'm not losing you again."

So there it was. Sam's real terror and quite a revelation to Dean. Sam was scared of losing him again? When had he lost him the first time? He'd been the one that left, not the other way around. It had been Sam that had wanted out, wanted that normal life... if he was so afraid of losing Dean then why couldn't he have just stayed?

Dean stood there, shocked and confused at this turn, holding on to Sam's shoulder like he had done when they were kids. "I'm not going anywhere Sammy."

And Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder, looking directly at him, completing the moment. "Damn straight you're not."

Rather floored by the direct and almost overpowering determination and love that was simply emanating from his brother, Dean could do nothing but stand there and wonder at the purity of it. Sam didn't do anything half way. It was all or nothing with him. And when it came to Dean apparently, all was all encompassing. It wasn't that he hadn't known how much his brother cared for him, it was more that he'd never seen it so nakedly unabashed on Sam's face.

Dean picked his hand off his brother's broad shoulder as Sam did the same. Sam looked better. Stronger, some how. Ready to face the day now with a new perspective. Dean's cruelty vindicated by Sam's security.

Dean starting putting his own clothes into his duffle bag watching Sam out of the corner of his eye for any residual guilt and still not entirely sure what he'd even done to swing his brother around. He felt bad for what he'd said about their father though, he'd gone to far over the line with that. He opened his mouth to try to find a way to take that back when Sam did it for him.

"You were right before, when you called me selfish. I didn't think of Dad at all, in that moment, all I could think of was you." Sam's voice was even but Dean couldn't see his face.

Dean looked down at what he was doing, regretting that fight now even more than he had then. "Thinking of yourself is selfish, Sam. You were thinking of me." Dean's frustration resurfaced. "Not to mention the fact that we're still talking about a dream, you know. None of this actually happened. People do things in dreams that they would never do in real life."

And with Sam's next comment Dean realized what he had thought had been helping had actually done harm. "I've already betrayed this family once by leaving."

The truth of it hung in the air between them and Dean could think of nothing more to say to refute it except simply. "You came back."

"You dragged me back. If I hadn't lost Jessica..." Sam trailed off, hating himself for where that statement was going.

Dean rescued him as always. "Well, you did and things turned out this way. You just have to accept that."

Quietly Sam breathed "Yeah," and Dean's heart broke just a little more for himself, for his brother and for the fucked up world that they lived in where his brother's girlfriend's death had become one of the best things that had happened to him.

These were moments where you learned something about yourself and your family that you never knew before. Dean had learned the depth of feeling and love his brother had for him even though he had thought those emotions lost when Sam had left years ago. He had also learned that while he wished for Sam to never feeling pain, he was glad of the one pain that had brought them together again. Pain and love tied together in a nice little bow around the box called family which sat in the burning house of Winchester.

Dean looked over at Sam who continued to pack with the ease of one who'd lived in hotels most of his life; a rootless existence and thought for the millionth time that it had been him that was selfish to do this to his brother. Then Sam met his eyes and strangely smiled and the feeling of self loathing eased as Dean remembered seeing the loyalty and love blazing in those eyes only minutes beforehand.

"Come on, you ready to go?" Sam stood up tall, his bag over his shoulder, his morning of agony behind him.

Dean pushed down his raging emotions and grabbed his own bag, closing the hotel room door behind him. They both headed for the Impala, the only real home they'd known and Dean let the feeling of rightness wash over him with pleasure. He sat behind the driver's seat as Sam slid into the passenger's side. Nothing had been fixed, no mysterious solved. But this was where the two of them belonged and as Dean started the engine, he knew that was all that mattered to both of them.