Welp. here's my first Supernatural fanfic. Just a little drabble, cause that's normally what I write when I first start writing for a new series. -_- I'm sure others have noticed, but after like season 3-ish, it seems like Sam and Dean have just been drifting farther and farther apart. It's so depressing D: So this is Sam's thoughts on it, pretty much.
Warnings: There a spoilers scattered about in here for all of the seasons, just so you're warned! So don't read this if you haven't watched all of Supernatural, or read at your own risk.
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He didn't know when this distance had started appearing between him and his older brother. He didn't know when it had started getting harder to smile or to laugh or show any other emotion other than anger around his brother.
Sam didn't know when it had started getting easier to lie to Dean rather than to tell him the truth.
Sam was a smart kid – he'd attended Stanford, after all – so he had a few theories and ideas. He supposed Dean had started to break, earlier when they had just started hunting again. When Dad had died. Sam knew that he could never understand the pain that Dean went through, because he'd never been that close to his father. Hell, he'd hated him for a long time, and he still didn't understand why Dean had blindly followed the man for so long without question. But Sam was long done with holding onto the grudge against John. He was still angry, every now and again when he thought about how Dean had literally broken apart when he had found out Dad was dead… but John had been dead for years now, and so Sam decided that one day he would need to grow up and learn to forgive.
Something had been wrong with Dean, Sam noticed, ever since he'd escaped from Hell. At the time, he'd had no idea how bad Hell really was. He'd had an inkling of an idea, but it was nothing close to the real tortures Dean had endured. Sam had wanted to help. He wasn't sure how, but he had hope that there was some way to save his brother from the memories. But Dean wouldn't even open up to him, and that had hurt Sam in a way that Dean could never understand. They were brothers – their only family left was each other, so who else could help them? Sam felt abandoned and betrayed, but he would be strong for Dean. It was what younger brothers did, and he had to try his best to be the perfect little brother that Dean needed.
Maybe everything had started to fall apart when Sam had chosen to stay with Ruby over Dean, when all of his thoughts and decisions didn't matter, as long as he was able to drink the demon blood he had been so terribly addicted to. "If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back," Dean had said, and he'd left anyway. He had seen the hope and the trust on Dean's face break down completely – deep down, in a place he didn't want to acknowledge, he'd known that this would ruin them. And yet he'd left anyway.
Trust. In the end, it had always come down to trust.
Which is why, when he'd come back from the cage without his most important thing, the results were catastrophic. He remembered Dean, getting plagued with vampire blood. And he'd just sat back. Watched. Smiled. God, Sam had thought when he regained his memories, even for a man without a soul, that is just not right. When he had remembered, he'd felt his heart finally shatter into dust. Poor Dean, he said, but that wasn't enough. Dean didn't need sympathy. He needed his brother, and Sam just couldn't give him that. There was something wrong with him, and he didn't know what and he didn't know how to fix it. All he knew now was that he was a terrible, wretched little brother, and he deserved that whole 160 years in Hell.
After everything that had happened between them, Sam wondered if they could ever go back to how they used to be. Sam and Dean; searching for their father and the demon that killed their mother. Sam and Dean; two brothers who wouldn't think twice about offering up their lives for one another. Not Sam and Dean; two broken brothers with broken trust and a broken family. Not Sam and Dean; two brothers who started the apocalypse and foolishly risked everything and more to end it.
Not Sam and Dean; just two people that had already had their fate and their lives and their futures picked out for them. All Sam could do was look back and wonder, how did all of this happen? Why us?
Sometimes, his mind screamed, because you're Winchesters, you're cursed. Others, it whispered, it's all your fault, Sammy; you brought this upon them. You brought it upon yourself. Look how many people have died for you. You should've never been born.
And very quietly, the rational, still sane piece of his mind murmured, because it was meant to be.
Never before in his life had Sam wanted, now more than ever, to scream at the top of his lungs until he could no longer utter a word.
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Well, there ya have it. I hope you liked it, and I would love if you leaved me a review and told me how I did! Constructive criticism is appreciated, also. c: