Disclaimer: Still not mine
"Sammy," It was the first memory he had, gentle hands resting on his chest, hair being moved by a soft breath against his temple. And the feeling of being safe and cared for and not having to worry about anything. Because the being attached to "Sammy." was his protector, his guardian, his brother.
"Sammy!" He must have been about ten, his head peeking over the door of the Impala as Dean stomped out of the bathroom, pissed off beyond all belief. His dad was cleaning the weapons at the trunk and barely even looked up as Dean wrenched the door open.
"You are SO dead." he growled as Sam scrambled a little to the left, choking on a laugh as he moved away from his brothers' fury.
"Aww come on Dean it was just a joke." he whined as Deans' eyes slitted in annoyance.
He held his jacket out as arms lengths, giving it a hearty shake as several ants came free. Sam covered his mouth with a hand, trying and failing to look anything other than gleeful.
"My coat Sam? Really?"
Sam didn't miss a beat, retorting dryly. "Dog crap in my shoes Dean."
His brother chuckled. "Yeah that was funny, but this..." he gave the jacket another swift jerk. "This is just mean."
Sam might have had something to say, but John Winchester was plopping down in the drivers seat, nodding at his sons to get in the car. Sam moved into the back seat and Dean slammed his coat into the side one last time before planting himself in the passenger seat.
"What seems to be the problem?" John asked, canting his head at his perturbed eldest.
Dean caught Sams gaze in the rear-view mirror and grumbled. "Nothing."
Sam smiled at him leaning forward to whisper. "At least I didn't put them in your pants Dean." and narrowly missed his brothers irritated swipe at him as he settled back into the seat with a grin.
"Sammy..." It was a silent plea at his back, muttered by the person who had always had his. He clenched his fists and slowed his stride, turning to face his distraught brother. Deans eyes were glittering under the streetlights as Sam tried to calm himself down. His whole body was pulled tight with anger, a tremor working its way into his throat as he said.
"What Dean?" coming out more forceful than he intended.
Dean held his hands up in mock surrender, replying softly. "Whoa easy there Hulk. We don't have the money to replace your pants every time you have a temper tantrum." he joked.
Sam sighed loudly. "Hilarious dude."
Deans' broad grin died on his face as he took in Sams' features. "Man I get it you have to cool off," he paused, slugging his brother on the arm and turning away from him. "I'll see you when you get back."
He stops his brother with a hand. "Dean."
"Yeah."
His voice is thick when he can finally speak.
"I'm not coming back."
Deans' face crumbles, falling for a minute into despair, before forcing back the cheesy grin.
"I know the room is crap Sam, but..."
"It's not the room Dean,"
"Then the bed? Alright dude, I'll take the chair then, you can have the whole bed princess." he snorted.
"You hog all the covers anyway..." it's a fond grumble, and Sams' resolve almost breaks at it. Almost.
"Dean,"
"Just don't Sam okay? Please." it's foreign word in their vocabulary and it gives Sam pause.
"You walk out that door, don't even think about coming back! And don't expect me to chase after you!"
His fathers voice knifes through him as he takes in a shuddering breath.
"I'm sorry Dean," he casts his eyes downward, unable to meet his brothers gaze.
Sam turns away from the only family he has ever known, heaving his duffel up farther on his shoulder and says loud enough for the other man to hear. "I have to do this."
There is nothing but silence between the two of them for what feels like several lifetimes until Dean mutters low. "Take care of yourself Sammy."
Sam can't force himself to take another step until the heavy footfalls of his brother fade into the distance.
"SAMMY!" The voice is full of fear and the only thing anchoring Sam to consciousness. His hands are flailing against the pressure against his throat, assailant not budging as the grip tightens. The loss of oxygen to his brain is making it hard for him to realize that his brother is nearby, racing into the room with shotgun poised directly at the spirit. The jolt that cuts through Sam is one part the ability to breathe again and one part the reverberations of buckshot hitting the wall as he slides down to the floor.
"Sam!" there is the fear again, but also something much stronger rising up in the call. Love.
He can feel his face being buried in leather and flesh, air spears into his lungs, chasing away the black spots in front of his eyes.
"Hey I gotcha, just breathe Sam." the voice is a deep rumble against his ear. Comforting.
Sams' senses are coming back to him slowly and he knows he should be moving away from Dean now, feigning brotherly embarrassment, but it's so nice here. So he doesn't move for another minute, until Dean is easing his brother away from him.
"You okay?"
"Fine." he grits out, ghosting a hand over his throat.
"Yeah, you're fine. You sound like Batman dude." his tone is half amused, half worried.
Sam huffs out a laugh, pushing Dean off of him, refusing the hand that tries to help him to his feet. He has been leaning on his brother way too much since Jess' death. His head goes down for just a moment and then Deans arm is around his shoulder, shuffling his brother back to the Impala.
"We still have bones to burn. You with me man?"
"Yeah." he groans, coughing to clear his throat.
Dean looks at him with concern for about a second, clearing his own throat as he shouts cheerfully.
"Let's go roast us a Casper then!"
Sam rolls his eyes in response.
"Sammy.' Desperation fills his voice and raw, unmistakable pain. Sam feels like he is floating, limbs heavy, eyes fluttering shut. He has a sorrowful knowledge that he won't be able to open them again. "Sam." Dean is calling him again, sounding far away and almost like a whisper. And he wishes that he could tell him he's sorry and he loves him and... Thoughts are harder to piece together, the cold from the ground is seeping into his bones and everything is fading away. He can briefly hear Dean, tears in his voice as the hands around him tighten. The last thing he can remember before blackness rushes in is the bellow of "SAAMMM!"
"Sammy?" It's an inquiry softly spoken and Sam thinks maybe if he ignores it, it will go away. No such luck as the voice is accompanied by a hand on his chest, shaking him into awareness.
"Sam. Dude wake up."
He shoves at the hands with a mumbled. "What?"
"You zoned out on me bro."
"It's call sleeping Dean."
"It's called a concussion Sam." Dean fired back.
"I'm fine." he whispered.
"Fine? Sam, Gordon tossed you through a wall and then beat your head like a drum,"
"Yeah and he used you like an all you can eat buffet."Sam shot back defensively.
"Barely even a mosquito bite." he groused.
"Big freaking mosquito."
"Wonder if they sell a vampire version of OFF?"
Sam chuckled. Somethings would never change.
"Sammy," The name that used to be a relief anytime Dean said it, now infuriated him. It was once caring and soothing and all the things he needed to hear rolled into a childhood nickname. Now it was weakness and pity, and a handful of useless emotions he didn't need anymore. Dean was trying to joke with him and tease him and Sam had a hard time not scowling at his brother and making sure his brother knows he is NOT Sammy anymore. Never again will he be feeble, powerless or vulnerable. Never again will he need Dean to save him, Sammy needed his big brother to rescue him. Not Sam. Sam has everything under control...
"Sammy." Forgiveness, love, comfort, family, Dean. That name means Dean has forgiven him. Forgiven him for every good intentioned mistake he has ever made. Forgiven him for letting out the Devil, for cutting Dean off, for all the ugly words and actions and every stupid thing Sam had done. For the summer without his brother, for the three years he had left him, for things Sam didn't even know had hurt Dean. He was forgiven.
"What's going on in your head there Sam?" His brother pats his shoulder for just a minute, snapping Sam out of his silent reverie.
"Huh? What?"
Dean chuckles warmly from the other side of the Impala. "Yeah, you're the smart one."
"Sorry I was just thinking,"
"About what?"
Their eyes meet across the expanse of the car, so many emotions chasing across Sams' face before it settles on relief.
"What movie are we gonna go see when we stop the Apocalypse?"
"THAT'S what you have been Twilight style brooding about over there?"
Sam laughs, trying to figure out if he should tease him about his choice of words.
"It's an important decision man. Don't want to pick anything heavy, but nothing stupid either."
"Something with Jennifer Aniston, man she's smoking."
"Yeah she's alright."
Deans' face splits with a grin, shooting Sam an impish look.
"Tell you what Sam, we stop the Apocalypse, I'll even go see something with Brad Pitt for you."
Sam glowers at him and punches him lightly on the arm. "Shut up."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, he's a good looking mother, not as good looking as me of course but," he pauses to click his tongue at his brother as Sam shoves him once more.
"Jerk."
"Whatever you say Sammy."
The name melts his vexation in an instant, face softening into an earnest grin. And he is Sammy once more. Always Sammy.