Here's a little something in honor of Sammy's birthday.
Warnings: Missing Scene for "The End" spoilers for fifth season through 5.4
Some dialogue from episode 5.4, "The End", written by Ben Edlund and some dialogue from The Sentinel episode "Flight", written by Gail Morgan Hickman
Pick a Hemisphere
by Swellison
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter, the thin wheel's scalloped ridges fitting his extra-long fingers unevenly. "Look, Dean, I can do this," he spoke into his cell phone as the road sped by in the wee hours of the morning. "I can. I'm gonna prove it to you." This phone call wasn't going as he'd pictured it, at all.
"Sam, it doesn't matter. Whatever we do." Dean's voice sounded weary? resigned? "I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good."
"Dean, it does not have to be like this," Sam spoke with conviction. "We can fight it."
"Yeah, you're right. We can." Dean agreed, then added, "but not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam."
Sam listened, shocked speechless by Dean's total reversal from his brother's long-standing position on family.
"I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us," Sam heard Dean pause before continuing, "love, family, whatever it is, they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. No, we're better off apart. We've got a better chance of dodging them, Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing if we just go our own ways."
Sam found his voice, protesting, "Dean, don't do this—"
"Good-bye, Sam."
And suddenly Sam was listening to the dial tone humming in his ear. His older brother had hung up, severing their connection. Sam's mind raced faster than the spinning wheels of the Lincoln as the built-for-comfort Continental roared down the almost deserted highway.
He'd been on auto-pilot since he woke, panicked, from his nightmare of a conversation with the Devil. He was supposed to be Lucifer's vessel—the Devil's own Chosen One. Bad enough that he'd been Azazel's favorite, back in Cold Oak, now—now he was slated to be—he was supposed to be Lucifer's vessel. Get to Dean, was his only thought as Sam packed, checked out and hit the road. He'd been in Oklahoma, pretty much the center of the US, so direction didn't matter, he'd correct his course as soon as Dean told him where to go. He'd called Dean, wanting—needing his big brother's comforting support and reassurance, and what had he gotten? "So Lucifer's wearing you to the prom." And, oh yeah, don't come anywhere near me.
Sam couldn't stand his thoughts, so he reached for the radio, randomly pushing one of the pre-set buttons. Dean's habit of constantly listening to music had rubbed off on him in the months he'd spent alone in the Impala. An old Beatles song blared from the speakers. "He's a real nowhere man, Sitting in his Nowhere Land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody."
Angrily, Sam stabbed the off switch, his unfamiliar car swerving as he leaned over to kill the music. Reflexively, Sam straightened the wheels. Maybe he shouldn't be driving, all things considered. Keeping an eye on the road, Sam started looking for a motel.
Twenty minutes later, he booked a motel room in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. Sam unlocked his room's door, vaguely noticed the dingy blue floral wallpaper and off-white furniture. Dean would've instantly pegged the room as too girly, Sam thought as he plopped his duffel on the interior bed. He took a quick shower, knowing sleep was not an option, for the little bit of the night left. Besides, he couldn't face another dream encounter.
He dressed quickly, doing his best to avoid the unoccupied bed closest to the door. He should've gotten a single, but the "double beds, please" slipped so naturally off his tongue when he'd registered. Sam paced around the room, which took about ten steps, then he stopped at the door, staring at it uncomprehendingly, like it had just been slammed in his face... He whirled, stalked back to his bed and grabbed the salt from his duffel. Eying the round, family-sized container of Morton's, he poured a thick strip at the door and at the bottom of the room's grubby picture window, overlooking the scenic parking lot. He put the salt back in his duffel, noting dully that he really needed to buy an industrial-sized bag of salt. Then he went back to pacing, trying to think, but all he heard was Dean's wiped-out voice, "on that basis alone, we should pick a hemisphere."
Trying to drown out the interior voices, Sam clicked the television on, and caught the breathy tones of an amplified flute and accompanying drums. He paced the room a few more times, then thumped down on his bed, glaring at the empty one in front of him. How dare Dean desert him, now? Sure, he'd made mistakes, but..."pick a hemisphere" pounded through his head again. Dean said that, Dean, his brother, how could Dean say that?
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," a voice emitted clearly from the television. "A country with all the cultural heritage of Peru, and you're gonna go FISHING?"
Sam frowned, staring at the TV, grateful for the interruption, however unintended. He blinked, recognizing the two actors on screen, from an action/adventure show when he was in junior high school. The Sentinel. Since he hadn't had his growth spurt yet, he remembered how easy it was to identify with Blair - the short, super-intelligent anthro grad student. And how easy it was to cast Dean as Jim Ellison, the big, strong police detective with hyperactive senses. On their training exercises and hunts, Dean had always heard twigs snapping, footsteps approaching, and doors creaking before he did. His brother was a phenomenal tracker...
Without really meaning to, Sam watched the show, allowing himself to be absorbed in the characters' problems. His throat tightened when he listened to Blair and Ellison talking about Borneo. "You really think I should?"
"Sure. You kidding me? A couple of weeks in Borneo sounds like a blast."
"Jim, we're not talking about a couple of weeks here. I mean, this kind of study involves a major commitment of time. At least... a year."
"A year? What about, you know, our project--this, uh, this Sentinel thing?"
"Jim I know, but..but this kind of opportunity..."
"Then you should do it."
"Are you upset?"
"No."And then the phone call came, changing everything with the devastating news that Simon's helicopter was missing over eastern Peru. Jim was packed, ready to go when Blair intercepted him, stating firmly that he was going, too.
"You want to go along for the ride?" Jim questioned sharply.
"Yeah."
"Then you do what I tell you, when I tell you. No questions asked."
Blair nodded, and then told Jim's retreating back. "So what else is new?" Sam could so relate to that, Dean's bossing him around on hunts the first couple of years after Stanford... but they'd gradually become better partners, and Dean had always listened to him.
Well, okay, maybe it was more like, he heard him out and then decided what they were gonna do, and Sam went along with it. But on the major things, they'd been in complete agreement - killing Ruby, for example. Of course, that was only after Sam had spent months at Ruby's beck and call, sneaking out on Dean, and ultimately freeing Lucifer...
Sam shook his head, he could not think about that now, he just couldn't. Why was it so easy to see his mistakes only in hindsight? He heard Dean's voice, the hurt seeping through, "You chose a demon over your own brother, Sam."
That hurt. He really hadn't known how much he could hurt his stronger, invincible big brother until then. Knowledge is power. But he'd tried to do the right thing, in River Pass--and they had figured things out, managed to take out War, just in time. Leaving Dean had been hard, but Sam had seen the doubt and fear on Dean's face when he'd walked in on him in the ammo store, two dead teenage demons on the floor, Sam staring hungrily at the knife dripping with demon blood in his hand, so tempted to run his fingers along the blade, collecting the blood and then... But he hadn't done that, although one look at Dean's face and he knew that Dean was convinced he was going to.
Lost in his past transgressions, Sam was surprised to look up and see that the show was almost over.
"It's about friendship," Blair said, beer in hand. "I just didn't get it before."
They exchanged a few more lines, and then clinked bottles. The show ended with Jim spotting his spirit guide, the Panther, on the top of the stairs, roaring approval, reminder, or warning.
Sam blinked, the simple words cutting through him. In addition to being his big brother, his protector, his substitute parent, he'd almost forgotten that Dean was—and had always been--his best friend, since childhood. Friends did things for each other; little things like remembering birthdays, big things like sacrificing their dreams, their souls... It wasn't supposed to be one-sided, either. Sam took a deep breath, he owed Dean, for--for everything, not that they ever kept count, but...
He could live with Dean half-way around the world, knowing his brother was alive and kicking. He'd miss Dean like crazy, but if that was what it took to defeat Lucifer, if that was what Dean truly wanted... Sam clicked the television off and reached determinedly for his laptop. He set it on the room's spindly table and turned it on, resuming his pacing. "Pick a hemisphere." Okay, well. He'd let Dean stay here, Sam was definitely the more worldly of the two of them. That way, Dean would have home territory and the Impala and he honestly deserved it. So, where did that leave Sam? He sat down, the laptop was fully operational now. He typed in a website and stared at the globe that filled the screen, emphasizing the Americas.
Flying anywhere was out of the question. Sam lacked the passport necessary to get through airport security, forged or otherwise. His finger touched the screen, tapping on Brazil, in the middle of South America. He'd let Dean have North America, and he'd head south. Thousands of people slipped north across the US/Mexican border daily, how hard could it be to do the reverse?
Momentarily, he thought about calling Bobby for help. But those hunters back in Garber-- Hank, Richie and Steve—had known Bobby, and that hadn't gone well at all. Besides, if he called Bobby asking about sneaking across the Texas border, Bobby wasn't going to just give him the name of a coyote and hang up, he'd want—demand to know what the hell Sam was up to now. "Just saving the world, Bobby," Sam murmured, "Y'know, preventing Armageddon and all."
He clicked on his favorite browser and started researching the US/Mexico border, trying to pinpoint the best place to cross it. After half an hour, he pulled out his notebook and listed the bare essentials he'd need on his journey south. He visited some travel sites for Mexico and plotted his route, then he paused, thinking. He needed a final destination, someplace more remote than Mexico...Peru would work just fine. Sam smiled slightly, life imitating art and all. He started researching more websites, burying himself in all things Peruvian.
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Sam reached for it automatically, glancing at the listed caller: Dean's cell. He considered not answering, but he needed to hear Dean's voice one last time, to say "good-bye" if nothing else.
"Dean?"
"Sammy, thank God. Look... I was wrong and I'm sorry. We need to talk, where are you now?"
Sam's eyes widened in surprise. Dean never apologized—well, hardly ever. "Tonkawa, Oklahoma."
"I'm in Kansas City."
"Missouri?" Sam asked, just to be sure, as his fingers flew over the keyboard, bringing up MapQuest, requesting the route from Tonkawa to Kansas City.
"Yeah. Where can we meet?"
"How about Cassoday, Kansas? It's a little town on I-335, about halfway between us."
"I'll be there. Bye, Sammy."
"Bye, Dean."
Sam closed his cell phone and started packing, eager to hit the road, now that it led back to Dean.
A/N: The End is an awesome episode, but it is definitely Sam-lite. This little missing scene is an effort to up the Sammy factor. Hope it works for you!