A/N: This sequel idea came from a question asked of a reviewer, one that wouldn't go away. Many thanks, hugs, and cookies to laughandlove for wanting to know how Sam's dream/vision came to be. It created the plot bunny from hell that won't let me finish Final Betrayal until I at least get this started.
Disclaimer: Don't own the Boys. Never could on a retail salary.
Now that Sam had put the idea into his head, What if, Dean couldn't make it go away. Sam wanted to know what would've happened if his brother hadn't made the deal. For Dean, it was an entirely different "what if" that plagued him. What if Dad never made the deal to save me? He'd thought about it a lot when their father died, but never really could get himself to imagine how things would've turned out. It wasn't exactly something he could discuss with Sam.
He'd gotten his little brother to tell him most of what he'd seen in the dream or vision. Dean was convinced it wasn't just a dream. Sam knew too many details about things that happened or were said after he died. The only way he could know is if someone or something showed him. But he could tell the kid was holding something back. The something that left a haunted look in his eyes, especially when he looked directly at him. Dean figured it had to do with his death in the vision. Sam would never say exactly how he died, only that he did die. Neither of them slept the rest of the night of Sam's vision and not much the next night.
Pretty sure it was vision, but from whom? And why?
He knew trying to figure that out would drive him crazy. Better to focus on getting some sleep. They were leaving early, moving on to their next hunt. As exhausted as he was, his mind refused to let go of that one thought, What if?
One moment he was trying to get to sleep, the next he was standing next to a hospital bed. His hospital bed, the dream version of him hooked up to monitors and a ventilator, lights dimmed for the night. Seeing it reminded him of the feeling of choking when he woke suddenly. Though now, Sam was standing next to his bed, talking quietly to him.
"Dean, are you here? I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting. I mean, come on you can't, you can't leave me here alone with dad, we'll kill each other, you know that." Sam paused, fought to get his emotions under control. "Dean, you've got to hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Can you hear me?"
A voice from nowhere sounding just like their father taunted, You really want to know 'what if'? Well here it is. He tried to question the voice, demand to know who was responsible for these visions, was met with silence.
A shift and the room was slightly different. The sun was up. Sam was asleep, head resting on the bed next to Dean's arm, holding his brother's hand. He heard a shuffling noise and turned to see his father stumbling into the room, blood flowing from a gash on his head.
Dad? What the hell happened to you?
"Sam...Sammy?" The words were quiet and slurred, but Sam heard and woke with a start.
"Dad? What the hell happened to you? Are you ok?" He rushed up and led their father to the chair he just vacated.
"It was the Demon. Tried to make a deal to save Dean. He wouldn't deal."
"You tried to make a deal to save Dean? You weren't trying to hunt him?"
"No. Damn it, Sam! I promised I wouldn't hunt the Demon until we knew Dean was ok, but he's not getting better. Might never get better. A deal was the only way. I know you think I don't care. You couldn't be more wrong. He's my son. I'd do anything to save him. To save you."
Dean had never heard his father say that out loud. He'd always known it, but it was different to actually hear it.
Sam sat on the end of the bed, looking defeated and said, "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just so scared we're going to lose him."
"I know kiddo. Me too. We'll do whatever we can to fix this."
"I..I-I don't think we can."
"Why? What makes you say that?" At that, Sam let out a small, sad chuckle.
"You might not believe me, but I found a way to talk to Dean." He looked over to the floor, the spirit board still left where he'd abandoned it in search of a way to save his brother. "He told me there's a reaper here. And it's here for him." The last words broke the dam of tears Sam fought to hold in. He lowered his eyes in an attempt to hide them behind his mop of hair.
"A reaper?"
"Yeah. I searched your journal, but you already know that we can't stop a reaper."
The look on John's face was one of pure anguish, something Dean only ever saw when their mother was mentioned. As if on cue, the monitors started going crazy, the signal that they were helpless to save him. Sam jumped from the bed and ran for help. He reappeared only seconds later followed closely by nurses and doctors. They pushed Sam and John out of the room and attempted to revive their patient.
For Dean, it was surreal to watch everything happen as it had before, with one exception. His father was fine. He watched as they tried to resuscitate him to no avail. The heart monitor flat-lined.
"Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death. 10:41 am."
He looked out the door, watched as his father stared back in disbelief. Watched Sam sink to the floor, tears flowing nonstop. Dean could hear a quiet mumble from his brother, a mantra of "He can't be dead. He can't." When their father died, Sam grieved. But he never looked as broken as he did now. He looked how Dean felt at Cold Oak, utterly lost. It hurt to see Sam in such pain even if this was only a vision. A small part was pleased that he meant even more to Sam than their father, but that was tempered by guilt at such a selfish thought.
The vision switched to the funeral pyre late at night in the middle of nowhere. They silently burned his body, no words said over the body or shared between father and son, no words of comfort. Sam glanced angrily at his father before concentrating again on the flames, his hand absently clutching the necklace he now wore. Dean's necklace.
What the hell is he so pissed about?
With Sam there was no telling. He couldn't go ten minutes in the same room as his father without arguing about something. Not even Dean's funeral could keep them from it. The flames became embers and he watched as they grieved each on their own. As they headed back to the truck, angry words from Sam explained why he was so pissed.
"So you don't even want to try to fix the Impala?"
He's mad about the car? I didn't think he cared that much about my baby.
"It's just a car, Sam."
"Just a car!? Are you freaking kidding me? Dean loved that car. It's all we have left of him. It's bad enough I gave up on him..." With those words, Sam's voice caught and he forced back a sob.
Dean wanted to reach over and smack some sense into his little brother. Damn it, Sam. You didn't give up. You could never defeat a reaper. You can't kill death. He now knew how frustrated Sam must've felt with his vision. He didn't understand the point in showing things that couldn't be altered.
"I'm not giving up on the Impala too. I'll learn to fix it myself. I'm sure Bobby will help me."
"We don't have time for such sentimental nonsense. If we're going to get the demon, we have to go now."
Dean finally realized how little their father knew either of his sons. He loved them, but knew nothing about them. Otherwise, he'd know that fixing the car was Sam's way of making peace with his lost brother, to heal. He'd see that Sam was hurting and would for a long while. He'd know that the Impala wasn't simply a car to either of his boys. It was the one constant. It was their home. No other place ever fit that description.
"Really, and how do you propose we kill the demon? Do you know where he's gone? No. Didn't think so. You can go search for the demon all you want, I'm going to fix Dean's car."
That sounded a lot like what I told Sam when he was itching to hunt the demon. It's weird. When he's with me, he acts so much like Dad. With Dad, he acts like me. No wonder the kid is so confused all the time.
"So you don't want to kill this demon? After all he's taken from us, you're going to just give up?"
"No, Dad. I'm not giving up. But someone taught me that there are things more important than revenge. He taught me that family comes first and for him the Impala was a member of this family. Drop me at the motel. Bobby's waiting for me so we can take the car to his garage. You go on your wild goose chase. You know where I'll be."
Thanks, Sammy. Dean was very glad that they couldn't see him in this vision, see the tears. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment that would surely come from his father. The teasing from Sam he could handle.
The scene shifted again. As far as the eye could see was a sea of cars. Mostly junkers, long past their prime. Everything, including the Impala, was covered in thick layers of dust made more obvious by the bright afternoon sun. He was at Bobby's watching Sam work on the car, only his long legs visible. It was coming along better than he expected. Should've known. Once Sammy sets his mind on something...
"Sam? You gonna answer that damn phone of yours already?"
"In a minute, Bobby. I'm almost finished with this. Besides I'm sure it's just Dad again."
"You know you can't avoid him forever. It's already been three weeks. Ignore him much longer he'll come drag you out kicking and screaming. And I ain't gonna get in the middle of that again."
"He won't bother. He cares more about finding that damn demon. And he made it perfectly clear back before De-- a while back that he could do it himself. He doesn't need me." Sam continued to work on the car. When his phone beeped the voicemail tone, he stopped and came out from under the car, face smudged in several places. He looked like he was having second thoughts about avoiding the call. "Voicemail? He never leaves a voicemail."
"Sam, you ever consider he might be hurting just as much as you? That he's too stupid and stubborn to admit it?"
"I'm fine." Dean heard the snap to the tone and wondered what was up with Sam.
"Yeah, that's why you don't eat. You barely sleep. All you do is work on the car."
"I told you I'M FINE! Now can we drop it please."
Jeez, Sam. What the hell? You sound more like me than you.
"Don't you take that tone with me boy!" Bobby's tone sounded angry. Dean could see the hurt in the man's eyes at Sam's words. "You need to take better care of yourself. What do you think Dean would say if he could see you right now?"
Sam didn't say anything to that at first, but Dean could see the muscles in his jaw working. He was trying not to lose control and failing miserably. "Don't you do that! I'd love to know what Dean would say right now, but I can't. I screwed up and he paid for it, so I'll never know what he'd say."
"Damn it, Sam! You didn't screw up. You did exactly what Dean wanted that night, to save your daddy."
Nothing that happened that night was your fault. I begged you not to shoot. Listen to Bobby. He's a smart man.
"Yeah, and look where that got him, where it got us! Dad couldn't even bother to stick around after we burned his body. As usual, his quest was more important than his family. You know there are times I wish I'd pulled the trigger. Dad would've gotten what he wanted, he said it himself. The Yellow-Eyed Demon would dead and Dean would be alive."
"What do you think that would've done to your brother? Watching his family self destruct before his eyes. And what about you? Do really think you could've killed your own daddy?"
Sam lowered his head and mumbled a quiet, "No." Then looked up, tears in his eyes, and said, "I miss him so much, Bobby. I don't know how long I can do this without Dean."
"I know kid. I miss him too. Now would you check that damn message?"
"Just give me a few minutes. I've almost got the new radiator hooked up. Then I promise I'll check the voicemail."
Dean was enjoying this part of the vision. He still couldn't believe how quickly Sam had gotten the car almost completely rebuilt. It was a comfort to know that once his time was up that his brother could handle the repairs to his baby. And the loss of his big brother. He always knew Sam was the strong one.
As Sam rolled out from under the car and reached for his phone, he asked, "Bring me a beer?" His expression changed from impatient to terrified in an instant. "Bobby!"
The older man rushed out, unopened beers still in hand. "What's wrong?"
"You ever hear of someone named Ellen?"
Ellen? Why is she calling Sam?
"Yeah, she runs a place called the Roadhouse, a bar that caters to Hunters. Why?"
"She called me from Dad's phone. Said he's there with her. Said he's hurt pretty bad. You got a car I can borrow?"
How the hell did Dad get hurt bad enough to ask Ellen for help?
"Sure thing. Want me to come with you?"
"No. I imagine he's still pretty pissed at you for taking my side."
"I didn't take your side. I just offered you a place to work on the car."
"It's the same thing in his eyes. You know how he is."
"Yeah, you may be right. You can take that mini-van. The keys are in it. Call me when you get there and let me know how the idjit is doing?"
"You got it. Thanks again, Bobby."
