A/N- This one's about Sam after he thought he'd lost Dean forever in the episode Mystery Spot from season 3. It's about how his life had become after watching Dean die in front of him.
I don't own the show and neither do I plan on doing so, 'cause if I did, I know I'd screw it up badly!
It was exactly six months. Exactly six months since Sam Winchester's life changed. For the worse, forever.
Six months from today, Sam's older brother, Dean Winchester had died. He was shot in the chest by a mugger. Being a badass hunter of all things supernatural and evil, one would expect him to die of a vampire attack, or maybe ganked by a demon. Well, that was the plan. I mean, almost a year ago Dean had made a deal with a demon to keep his brother, Sam, alive, in exchange of his soul and his time was up. In three week's time he was supposed to die. In three week's time Dean was supposed to go to hell. Literally.
Now Sam was left all alone in this hellhole of a world, filled with nothing but evil and pain. Yeah, there was pain aplenty. Sam lost his mother when he was only six months old. Then he lost his girlfriend, Jessica, when he was 22. Then went his Dad, John Winchester. And finally, Dean. His only family, his only hope of survival, that burning lamp at the end of a dark tunnel, that made him hold onto himself, onto life. Dean's death was like a kick in the jewels, as Dean'd say. It was like being thrown into the icy waters of a sea, a never-ending sea of pain and darkness. Hell, death would have been so much better than this life as a machine.
Dean's death had affected Sam dreadfully. It was like the sun had vanished. No light, no warmth. Just eternal darkness. Sure, he was alive and in excellent health. Just like a well built robot, maybe.
'This is Sam. Please leave a message.'
'Sam? Are you okay, kiddo? Listen, please, just please call me back. Wouldja? It's been months since we spoke. I'm worried about you, son.' It was Bobby, the only person left on this earth who cared about Sammy.
Sam heard the message but didn't bother to pick up the phone. What was he gonna say? He knew Bobby cared, a lot, but nothing mattered now. Nothing.
All that Sam Winchester cared about now was killing as many as those evil sons of bitches he could. And on top of the hit list was THE Trickster. It was because of him that Dean was dead and Sam's was life was so screwed up. Had the trickster not played his tricks, Dean would have been alive…at least for another three weeks, and who knows, they might have found a way to save him from the demon's deal as well.
'…please. I know Dean's death was a huge blow for you…' Huge? Yeah, right. '…but you have got to snap out of it. That vengeful attitude of yours, that's what's gonna get you killed, boy. And Dean certainly didn't die for that. Take care of yourself, Sammy, for Dean's sake.'
Sam picked up the phone. 'Don't call me Sammy. And, Bobby, please, you're not helping. I don't need all that 'take care' crap, okay? For the last time, I'm FINE!'
Saying this, he hung up.
Life for Sam was monotonous. Get up in the morning, get ready, stuff in some breakfast (lately, from the past six months, precisely, Sam didn't feel like eating), do some daily chores, out with his hunting duties. So Sam did what he did every day. But today, he did something…something he'd never done before. He went to the cemetery. To visit Dean's grave.
He drove the Impala, Dean's baby. Damn, why did everything have to remind him of Dean?! It was weird, coming to the cemetery, to visit Dean's grave. Dean, who was so full of life, exuberance, mirth. Dean, who, in spite of being really annoying at times, never failed to amuse Sam, even in the toughest of situations. Dean, his brother, who had promised to protect Sammy no matter what. Dean, who was now dead the past six months.
'Hi, Dean…umm...I don't, I don't exactly know what to say…' Sam said, striving to keep himself from crying.
'You did the wrong thing, ya know. Bailing out on me like that. I mean, how could you, how could you do this, Dean?! You're the one who's selfish, not me. You left, not me. You even broke your promise, Dean.' Sam's voice seemed to be getting a little high pitched, other people who had come to visit their beloved were shooting annoyed looks at him, but Sammy didn't care.
'What am I supposed to do now, huh? Keep continuing the family business? Is that what you're gonna say? 'That's the job, Sammy.'' He tried to do a weak imitation of Dean's voice. He seemed to be forgetting that once-familiar sound.
'I can't go on this way, I can't. My life's a living hell. I might as well have been dead. If you hadn't made the deal that time when the hell's gate had opened, I'd have been dead. And you'd have had a chance at a normal life. Maybe you could go back to Lisa; I know how much you loved her. None of this would've happened, Dean.' Sam broke down, crying.
'But I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, right? Yeah…'
Sam left, all this was too much to take. He couldn't afford to break down, not when the goddamn Trickster was still at loose.
'Sam? Sammy? Sam, wake up.'
Sam felt like someone was calling his name. Someone familiar, someone he knew, knew very well.
'Sammy? C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up now, I'm home. Sam…'
The voice grew clearer, but who was it? And more importantly, how did he dare call him 'Sammy'?
Sam forced himself to open his eyes, he didn't like being woken up from a sound sleep. That too, one which was free of nightmares.
He looked around, blearily. He could see a tall figure coming closer. Maybe it was the Trickster, he oughtta get his knife, then. Still, he wasn't sure who it was, and so he looked harder, squinting his eyes to see better. He couldn't believe what he saw.
It was his brother, Dean Winchester.
'You awake, sasquatch?'
'Dean? Is that really you?'
'No, I'm Obi Wan, from Star Wars. Of course, I'm Dean!'
'No, it's just…I'm having a hard time believing you're alive.' Poor Sam, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing.
'Well, that's a warm welcome I just got. Anyhoo, turns out, this whole thing was another one of the Trickster's stupid tricks.'
'Meaning that you were alive this whole time? But, where were you exactly? I mean, did the Trickster keep you locked up or something? And where is he now? How did you escape?' Sam just kept on babbling, question after question.
'Whoa, whoa, easy. One question at a time, boy.'
'I'm sorry…okay, so how did you escape?'
'Well, I killed that twisted son of a bitch.' Dean said, in a rather smug, matter-of fact tone.
'You what?' Sam couldn't make head or tail of anything.
'I killed him. How I did it ain't important.' It was evident from his expression that Dean was enjoying all the attention.
'Dean, it's really you! And the Trickster, he's dead!' Finally everything started to sink in.
'You wanna sing about it?'
Typical Dean, Sam thought. Always making fun of him. But he didn't mind. Not today. Dean was back, the Trickster was dead. This couldn't have been more perfect.
'Alright, well, uh, welcome back!' Sam said.
'Okay, but before that…'
Suddenly Dean's expression changed. He was smiling, but it didn't feel like him. There was something rather unpleasant about it. Sam felt odd, like something bad was gonna happen. In a fraction of a second, the face of Dean disappeared, and in its place stood the Trickster.
'DEAN!'
Sam woke up. He was on the sofa, the television in front was blaring. He had just drifted off. This meant that what he just saw was not reality.
It was just a nightmare.