Sam Winchester pulled his 'borrowed' car into the parking lot of the hospital and put it in park. He was probably madder at his dad, John Winchester, than he had been in years.
John had sent him two hours round trip to see their friend Bobby with the intent of having him pick up supplies for what John told him was a protection spell to keep the yellow-eyed demon off of their tails while they licked their wounds from their last encounter, only Sam found out that it was a lie.
Bobby ended up, reluctantly, telling Sam the truth: the stuff that John was having him get was for exactly the opposite task. He was going to call the bastard demon up and have some stupid macho show down with it, probably right there in the hospital.
As if all of that wasn't bad enough… wasn't enough to make Sam's blood boil inside him, Dean was in need of their help.
Since they had been taken by copter to the hospital, Dean had been in a coma, barely hanging on to his life; Sam himself had begged John to help him find someone to fix Dean, someone who could do what modern medicine could not, and all John did was tell him that such things just didn't happen all that often, it would be a long shot at best, and hand him his stupid list and speak his horrible lie.
Sam took a deep breath. With everything that was happening the last thing he really wanted to do was get into another fight with his father, there had been so many for so long, and he just didn't have it in him, but somehow he didn't think he was going to be able to avoid it. Sam had begun to realize as he was being loaded up and flown to the hospital after that semi crashed into the Impala that a lot of the time their fights were just habit; they had long ago locked themselves into this constant battle and most of the time the fights just weren't that important.
However, this time… this time was different, this time John had crossed a line and Sam couldn't… wouldn't let it stand. Dean was dying, Sam could look for years and not find a way to help, but John could; he knew things that Sam didn't, people Sam didn't, he had his ways and instead of doing the right thing and save Dean, he was wasting time on his revenge. In a way, Sam could make himself understand the desire for revenge, since the yellow-eyed demon took Jessica he had that feeling himself, but he would never let Dean die for that revenge.
Sam got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Bobby had insisted that Sam take the stuff John wanted to him regardless of how he felt, so he carried it with him. He tried, as he angrily made his way inside, to calm himself down. As angry as he was he wanted to at least attempt to approach this situation calmly, maybe if he didn't jump instantly into fight mode he could make John listen this time, make him understand that Dean had to come first this time.
As Sam walked up to John's room John walked out, meeting him in the hallway. Sam could tell by the look on his face that something wasn't right.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked feeling his gut tighten. No he thought, he knew what was wrong but he refused to believe it. "What's wrong?" Sam repeated again this time harshly. John walked up to him and put his hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Son," John said slowly as if choking back tears… "No," Sam said shaking his head. "Sammy," John said, taking a deep breath, "Dean…"
Sam didn't even let him finish. He pulled away from John's touch and, dropping the bag of stuff he brought in, ran to the room Dean had been in and found it…empty. For a moment Sam's mind raced. Maybe they moved him, maybe they're doing tests…treatments… but he knew, he knew what really happened.
Sam turned around and found John behind him. "I'm sorry Sammy," John said, "Dean died about twenty minutes ago. They tried everything they could but it was just…."
"Don't say it," Sam said in a tone that was a mixture of sadness and rage, "don't you dare say it was his time." Sam's head was shaking and his eyes were filling with tears. "If you had tried to help him… if you had called anyone… done anything… he would be alive now!"
John looked around making sure no one could overhear and pulled Sam aside. "I told you that kind of thing is rare… the chances…" "I did it once, I saved him." Sam said not even looking at John.
"Yeah," John said sadly, "that was a fluke and, as I hear it, it cost an innocent man his life." Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Don't say that," Sam said, "I didn't know that would happen."
"You didn't think it through," John said, not in a harsh tone, but in the tone he used to use when he was teaching him and Dean some new skill. Sam suddenly reached up and grabbed John by the collar pushing him into the wall.
"I didn't have time to 'think it through'," Sam shouted. "Dean was dying; you were nowhere to be found; I had to do something… I'm not like you dad, I can't just sit around and let someone I love die."
John looked at him and Sam wasn't sure what was going on behind John's eyes. He could see grief, he could see sadness but there was something else… it almost looked like fear. John simply grabbed Sam's hands and gently but forcefully pulled then off of his collar.
Waving away the hospital staff who had started to run over to break up what looked like a fight he said, "I didn't want Dean to die son, but like I said, cheating death like that… like you helped him do before… isn't easy, and it always comes with a price."
"There is no price that's too high," Sam said still angry, still crying. "Sometimes we're not the ones who have to pay the price, sometimes innocent people around us pay it, and we can't make them do that." What he was thinking but didn't say, however, was why didn't Dean hold on a little longer? Why didn't Sam get back sooner?
Sam and John stood in the darkness looking at the wrapped form of Dean's corpse. They had managed to get it away from the hospital and sidestep having to have a funeral home pick it up. It had been decided some time ago, between Dean and John while Sam was in Palo Alto, that should either of them die their remains had to be cremated, as a precaution.
As the sun started to set John prepared to light the pyre. Since the day Dean died, Sam and John had barely spoken, and when they did it had been only when they had to or through Bobby who was letting them stay with him while they figured out their next move.
"You got anything you want to say, Sammy?" John asked sad but trying to reach out to Sam. Sam had noticed that John was acting more and more strangely around him since Dean's death. It was like he was keeping a close eye on him and his actions and sometimes he seemed almost afraid.
"No." Sam said simply preferring to keep his final words to Dean to himself. The more Sam thought about it the angrier he became. Not only did his own father not act to save Dean, but also his stupid little errand kept Sam away. He didn't get a chance to say anything to Dean before he died. Sure he was in a coma, but he might have been able to hear him and at the very least it would have made things even a little bit easier.
John simply nodded. He touched the torch to the pyre and it went up. John walked back to where Sam was standing and seemed to be saying good-bye to Dean himself, in a low tone.
After a little while John said, "Sam, I think we need to talk." "Why?" Sam said harshly, "You want to figure out your next move, figure out how you can get a chance to take your precious colt and shoot the demon?"
"Yes," John said, "but that's not all." "That's not all?" Sam asked angry again, turning to look at John. For a second, John would have sworn that Sam's eyes were glowing, and the image was enough to make him step back a bit, but he quickly realized it was just the fire light…or so he hoped.
"That's all it's been for a long time," Sam pressed, "since the day mom died, that's all it's been. You said yourself that killing the demon is more important that everything else. You sacrificed Dean to your cause, but he was just the latest. You made us both sacrifice our childhoods, our lives, and Dean he gave and gave to you, whatever you wanted and didn't even blink. If you had ordered him to cut off his right arm he would have asked for a knife, and what did it get him? Dead!"
"Son," John said. "No!" Sam said, "I don't want to hear it. Whatever you have to say, whatever justification you're going to give me I don't want it… I want no part of it…no part of this…No part of you. Dean's dead, and I'm gone. First thing in the morning I'm out of here. I'm going to try and pick up the pieces of my life and try to move on."
"What about Jessica?" John asked looking Sam square in the eyes as if trying to stare him down, or perhaps gage how serious he was. "Oh no," Sam said staring John right back without so much as blinking. "Don't try that. I miss Jessica, and I always will, but revenge isn't worth this, it isn't worth my life, and it sure as hell wasn't worth Dean's. Just think about it, think about what you did to him, how you made him grow up. He was more of a father to me than you ever were, and as if playing father to me wasn't enough he had to be your perfect little solider, he had to follow your insane orders, put anything he wanted on the back burner, all that came first was you and your revenge!"
"That's enough!" John shouted trying to get Sam under control. At that point Sam just lost it and punched John as hard as he could in the jaw. Partly from the blow and partly from the sheer surprise John went down. Sam stood there for a second but then turned and walked away without a word.
John slowly stood up and wiped blood from the side of his mouth. It's starting already, he thought, I was hoping it wasn't, but I can tell. God please don't make me have to do what I'm afraid I will have to do.
Sam sat quietly in the corner of the room Bobby had given him to sleep in. He was thinking about the past several months he and Dean had spent on the road looking for their dad. He couldn't even begin to figure out how things could have gone so wrong.
They were going to find their dad, find out why he disappeared, but when they did things just got more complicated. Then they were going to finally kill the demon that ruined them all. The yellow-eyed demon that had killed his mother and Jessica and ruined all of their lives.
Now Dean was dead, and Sam was so angry. He was sad and angry and every minute of every day he felt as if he was loosing control of it. He had just decked his own father, and while he was so angry with him that he couldn't see straight, a part of him was disgusted and scared that he had hurt him.
He could almost swear he could hear Dean's voice in his ear questioning him, asking him how could you do that to Dad? How could you do that and just walk away? Sam had to shake his head to get the voice out of his mind.
Just then Bobby walked in with a small plate. "I know you and John are at odds again and that you're angry," he said in an even tone, almost as if he was unsure what tone to take or afraid to set him off, "but that's no reason to starve yourself."
Sam forced an empty smile, and somehow that unnerved Bobby more than just about any other reaction could have. "Thanks Bobby," Sam said, "but I'm not hungry." Then he raised his right hand, and he was holding a half empty beer bottle. Bobby looked over and next to him was several more; either Sam was putting them away pretty quick or he had been at it for a while. Neither prospect pleased him much.
"Sam," Bobby said putting the plate down, "you can't just hole up in here and drink yourself into a stupor. You have to eat something; then you have to…go and fix things with John." Sam scowled at the last part and said, "I don't want to. I told him and I'm telling you, I'm out. This is it. Dean's dead, and in the morning, I'm gone. That is, if you have a car I can use. If not, I will walk if I have to."
"Sam," Bobby started. "Do you have a car or not?" Sam asked coldly. "That's all I want to know." "Yeah…" Bobby said reluctantly, "but you really should at least talk to John, for a few minutes. I mean from what I hear you spent months trying to find him, and the way you came in here when he was kidnapped."
"That was then," Sam, said taking a big drink of his beer, finishing it off in one gulp and reaching for another, "that was before Dean died because of him and his revenge. Everything is different now."
Bobby pulled out a chair and sat down. "Sam," Bobby said as if choosing his words carefully. "Dean wanted that revenge as much as John does. He wanted to get the demon for what it did to your mother and your family."
"Yeah," Sam said, "but Dad… was the adult. He was the one who taught him…us all of this hunting crap, he was the one leading Dean and me every step of the way. If he had just once… just once…stopped to think about what he was doing to us he would have put all of his revenge crap out of his head and let us just be kids, just be normal."
"Sam," Bobby said, "he couldn't. He was scared. Scared for you, for Dean, for himself. He was just trying to do his best." "Well," Sam said angrily "his best wasn't good enough. Why don't you go and ask Dean what Dad's best got him?"
Bobby wasn't sure what to say next. Sam was so angry; there was no reaching him. No reasoning with him. Sam finally said, "Bobby, I appreciate you trying to talk to me, getting me that car and everything but my mind is made up. I'm leaving tomorrow and that's that. Now if you don't mind, I would like to get some sleep. I want to leave as early as I can."
Bobby had no choice. He had no words that could help, he had nothing… there was nothing; so, he just got up and left. As he was about to open the door he said, "Sam do me one favor." "What's that?" Sam said sounding like he was barely listening. "At least tell John you're sorry for punching him. If you want that car, just do that. You don't even have to mean it, just go out there and say it."
Sam let out a long sad sigh and said, "Fine, Bobby. For the record, I will mean it, but it doesn't change anything. I'm not going to let him sacrifice me to his revenge, and I'm not going to be there to try and pick up the pieces when he sacrifices himself to it either."
As Sam walked into the room he was slightly more sober than he had been when Bobby had talked to him, but only slightly, he didn't want to be too sober for this. He was actually sorry for what had happened, mostly because of what Dean would have thought of it, but also partly because he knew it wasn't right, but there was a much larger part that was still angry with John and didn't care about the rest.
John was sitting at a table going over his notes, deep in thought. Sam stood there for a second, then in a low voice said, "Dad?" John looked up, smiled slightly, and then said, "Sam?" Sam walked over and in the same low voice said, "Look, dad, I'm sorry for what I did back there. I was angry, but that's no excuse."
"Sam," John said, "son… I miss Dean too, trust me the last thing I wanted was what happened." Sam smiled a thin, pained smile, "but it did and nothing can change that. Dad, I'm so angry and sad and lost, and I just can't go on anymore, not like this."
"It's ok, son," John said reaching out and touching Sam's hand, "we don't have to worry about that, not right now, but we do have to stick together. The demon is still a threat, the last thing we should do is split up." "No!" Sam said standing up, "You can't do it can you?"
John looked at him sad and puzzled. "Do what son?" "You can't go for even a few minutes without talking about that damned demon. I'm here trying to say I'm sorry, trying to get you to understand where I'm coming from, and you jump right to the demon."
John looked, for just a second, as if he was really guilty, but then it passed and he looked angry. "Of course I can't. That demon killed your mother, your girlfriend, and was behind killing Dean too, and you're just willing to run off and forget it. I can't do that, that damned bastard took too much from us both for that."
"Damn it, Dad," Sam said, "what good is killing it going to do? How is that going to make the past twenty-two years any better?" "It won't, but it will mean that Merry, Jessica, and yes even Dean will not have died for nothing." John said in a sad tone tinged with frustration and anger.
"Don't you see," Sam said, "they already did die for nothing. The demon said he killed mom and Jessica because he has plans for me and others like me, and they 'got in his way'. He killed Dean because you pushed him into your revenge. If you had left him, left us, alone and let us grow up normal, he would be alive now… that's on you."
"Now wait a minute!" John shouted, "That's not right, and even if it was, where do you think that would leave you? That yellow-eyed bastard would still have his plans, and you wouldn't know anything about them." "Even so," Sam said, "you could have at least put all of this information you have to good use and got Dean help… and don't give me that one in a million talk again, you didn't even try."
At this point John looked tired and sad, and Sam could almost swear he looked somehow shorter, like everything that had been happening had somehow worn him down, not only mentally, but physically as well. "You could have saved him too, son," John said, "you could have done as I told you and shot me; you could have killed the demon and ended it all once and for all."
Sam stood frozen for a second. He couldn't believe what his own father was saying to him. That if he had shot him, killed his own father, everything would be all right. Sam struggled to figure out what to say, then finally he said, "Maybe I should have…maybe I should have just shot you. Dean would be alive now and you would be gone and this whole crusade of yours would be behind us, but you know what? You know the really sick thing? If I had done that I would be standing here right now with Dean yelling at me about how I killed you."
"Despite everything you put him through," Sam continued, not giving John a chance to say anything, "despite all the pressure and demands and desperate bids for your attention, approval, and love, he would hate me for pulling the trigger, but that's not even the real kicker… the real kicker is I would have hated myself too."
John seemed to think about what Sam said for a second then said, "I'm sorry son. That was out of line, I shouldn't have said that, I shouldn't even have asked you to do it back there in the cabin, but I was desperate. We were so close, so close to having it finally over, and I was afraid we would never get that close again."
"Bottom line dad: Dean is dead… I'm leaving… I can't take it anymore, and I'm gone. I am sorry I hit you, I wish I could that back, but I can't, and it doesn't change my mind any." Sam said in a low sad tone.
"But, son," John said touching Sam's shoulder as he turned to leave the room, "Like you said the demon said he had plans. He will come after you no matter where you go, and at least if we're together we can look out for each other."
"I'm sorry, Dad," Sam said almost in a whisper, "I will just have to look out for myself for a change. I can't stay around here… I can't stay around you… it all hurts way too much. I need to be on my own again."
As Sam left the room Bobby entered from behind John. "I guess you heard all of that." John said simply. "It was kind of hard to miss. John, he's just hurting, give him some time, and he will come back; keep up like this, and he will stay gone out of spite and pride."
"I've told you," John said, "I've told you what I learned, I can't leave him alone, it could be dangerous. The way he is right now things could go bad quick, and without me there he could be lost forever."
"I know John," Bobby said walking over to where John was standing, "but it's not like you don't know where he has it in mind to go, you can just go there too and keep an eye on him from a safe distance, like you used to do, give him time to greave and come to his senses." "What if he doesn't 'come to his senses'? What if things go the other way?"
"Then you will be there for that too, however you decide to handle it." Bobby said resting a hand on John's shoulder and smiling weakly.
"That's just it Bobby," John said sounding weak and tired, "I don't know if I can. I've had my doubts from the start. How can any father do that to their son? With Dean gone, I don't know if there's going to be any other way. Sam said, back at the pyre, that Dean was more of a father to him than I was, I guess I hoped that if push came to shove Dean would be there and that he could reach him like I never would be able to, but now that's not going to happen."
Bobby looked down and then looked up again and said, "John you will do what's right, one way or another. You will find away to save Sam, and if you can't then you will find what it takes to do what has to be done. Just remember, if it gets to that point, Sam… the real Sam, the one you know and love, wouldn't want to be like that."
Sam had gone to bed as soon as he got back to his room, but was having trouble going to sleep. Despite having knocked back a few more beers before lying down, he was still angry and was having trouble relaxing.
Eventually, however, Sam was finally able to relax enough and became drunk enough to reach something approaching sleep. Sam tossed and turned in his sleep for some time until he woke up suddenly with the feeling he was being watched.
When he sat up he saw someone standing by the door. "Dad, is that you?" Sam said still half asleep. "How do ya' like that Sammy? I've only been dead for a few days and you already don't recognize me." At that point the shape moved closer, and Sam saw that it was…Dean.
"Dean?" Sam said dumbfounded. They had burned his body; there was no way his ghost should be around. "Am I dreaming?" Sam said lamely.
"If you were, would I know about it?" Dean asked with his patented grin. "Sammy, I'm here because you're making a huge mistake. You can't leave Dad again, not like this." "Dean," Sam said starting to seem more awake, "you've come back from the dead to try and tell me what to do?"
"Sammy," Dean said, "I'm serious. Dad's hurting too, and he's right, that yellow-eyed bastard isn't going to stop. He said he had a plan, and you don't think that's going to change just because I'm gone?"
"Of course not," Sam said, "but I can't… I can't stay around and look at him and know he didn't lift a finger to save you." "Sammy," Dean said, "I was there, the whole time in the hospital, and I watched the two of you and everything. He had a plan, I'm not sure what, but he was going to do something. Time just ran out."
"What? No," Sam said, "he was going to summon the demon and take him out with the colt, but that wouldn't have helped you any." "I don't think so," Dean said, "I had a feeling he was doing more than that."
"If that was the case Dean, then why not just tell me?" Sam asked sounding unconvinced. "I don't know, you know how Dad is. Maybe he knew you would want to be involved and he couldn't risk it."
"Maybe," Sam said, "then why not tell me now? At least show me he was trying to save you?" "I don't know Sammy, but it doesn't matter, the point is that Dad's right you two have to stick together and look out for each other, now more than ever… since I can't."
"I told you Dean I can't. I can't look at him but it's not just that. I can't keep up this life, not without you in it. You're the one who came and got me when Dad took off after the demon and left you behind to worry. You're the one who has been by my side everyday since. The one who talked to me when Jessica's death nearly drove me nuts. I just can't keep going without you around. Who's going to be there to help me get over loosing you?"
"Dad can do that, if you let him." Dean said simply. Sam scoffed, "Dad. Dad. Are you kidding me? About the only thing he's talked about since you died is that damned demon and our 'next move'. He's of no help to me, not in the way I need. Without that kind of help I just need to be alone. To think about what I want to do next, not what dad wants me to do next."
"Sammy… Sam," Dean said, "you will never be alone, not completely, but you need to stay with Dad. He needs you too and not just to watch his back. He won't admit it or anything but I've seen him, he's broken up by my death too, he needs his son around. Help him, let him help you… please."
"I'm sorry Dean," Sam said starting to cry, "I don't want to hurt you, disappoint you or anything, but I need this and nothing will change my mind." "Sam," Dean said sadly, "you could never disappoint me, but I wish you would change your mind." "No," Sam said softly, "I'm sorry." That was the last of saw of Dean that night.
When Sam woke up he was alone, and it was nearly dawn. By the time he got his stuff together he had convinced himself, at least openly, that it had been a dream and Dean was truly gone.
Sam went outside and just as he had hoped both his dad and Bobby were nowhere to be seen. The last thing he needed was another pointless attempt to talk him out of leaving. All he found was a note from John saying good-bye and the key from Bobby for the car.
Sam went outside and when he found the car he was slightly disappointed to see how run down it was, a far cry from Dean's Impala before the crash, but decided it would have to do.
Sam was actually surprised when it started on the first try, but was glad and pulled out of Bobby's and took off, heading west, as fast as he could.
Sam decided that the first thing he wanted to do was go home, back to Palo Alto and try and see if he could rebuild the life he had before…before Dean showed up that night and before Jessica was killed. It would be hard but he felt he had to try.
As Bobby and John watched Sam leave, John looked at Bobby sadly and asked, "You have my truck?" "Sure do," Bobby said, "as soon as Sam and Dean left to get you back from the demon and his group and I finished dealing that poor girl's body I went and got it. Figured you would need it."
"Good," John said, "I will give him half an hour or so then I will follow him. Thanks for all the help, Bobby." Bobby smiled a bit and said, "Glad to help, just wish things had worked out better, even if I am glad you're still around."
"So you knew what I was planning?" John asked. "I figured you were going to summon the demon and try to make some deal with him for Dean but I wasn't sure for what, although I knew in the end it would want you, if only to stop you from hunting it anymore."
"That thought had occurred to me, but I was going to offer it the colt and hope I could find another way to kill it later." John admitted. "I would have given myself if that's what it took." He added honestly. "It would have," Bobby said sadly.
The first thing Sam did when he reached Palo Alto was head out to Jessica's grave. He hadn't been there since the day of the funeral. There had been some bad blood between him and Jessica's family, they weren't shy in blaming him for her death, so he stood yards away and watched the burial.
Only when it was over and everyone had left did he walk down to the grave itself. Much like that day the place was empty, and he stood alone in front of her gravestone with her picture staring back at him.
"Been awhile," Sam said simply. "I'm sorry I haven't been back in so long, but I've been pretty distracted." Then he grinned a tight little grin and added, "Of course wherever you are I'm sure you know that already."
He was about to lay the flowers down when a voice from behind said, "Sam? Sam Winchester?" Sam turned around and saw Becky Warren standing there. "Becky," Sam said surprised, "I haven't seen you since Saint Louis."
"Yes," Becky said sounding sad. "How have you been?" Sam asked wanting to change the subject, the whole Saint Louis job was a bad one, especially for Dean.
"As good as I could be after seeing all that," Becky said with a forced smile. "What about Zack?" As soon as Sam asked he wished he hadn't, the look on Becky's face told her it wasn't good. "He's not doing so well."
"Why?" Sam said suddenly curious, "What happened?" Becky looked sad as she said, "Despite being cleared of the murder charges, there were still rumors, even here. When we came back to resume going to school there were a lot of whispers and stares and rumors. After awhile he couldn't take it anymore and dropped out. Last letter I got from him a month ago he was in El Paso looking for work."
"I'm sorry," Sam said sadly. "Not your fault," Becky said, "you and Dean got him out of trouble, and heck, Dean even took the rap and pretended to be dead…" At that point Sam winced and he could guess that Becky could tell.
"Speaking of… Where is Dean?" Becky asked. "Becky, he's dead." Sam said. "What? Really?" Becky said. "Yeah," Sam said reluctant to go into details. "We were working a job and things went bad. We all ended up in a hospital but Dean got the worst of it and…" Sam couldn't even finish.
"I'm sorry Sam." Becky said reaching out to touch his shoulder. "That's why I'm here," Sam said after a few minutes to pull himself together, "our dad was with us, he's the one who got us into this profession, when we were kids, and I told him now that Dean was gone I was done."
"You're going to come back and try to rebuild your old life?" Becky asked. "That's the idea," Sam said, trying to sound more upbeat. "Have you been in contact with anyone?" Becky asked. "No," Sam said, "I just got here and decided to come here first."
"Sam," Becky said sadly, "you should be careful." "Why?" Sam asked confused. "Because," Becky said, "after you left the rumors of your connection to Jessica's death only got worse, even after the police ruled it an accident, especially from her parents and close friends. They may not be willing to accept you, is all."
Sam was surprised. "I didn't know things were that bad," he said, "I knew a lot of them had stopped replying to e-mails but I thought they were just busy." "It's bad," Becky said, "than Zack had it. Just don't get your hopes up is all."
"I won't," Sam, said, "I have to at least try. With Dean gone it's all I have." Becky looked at him sadly. "Let me give you my number," Becky said, "so you can call me if you need someone to talk to."
"Thanks," Sam said, "either way I will give you call." "No," Becky said, "I should thank you again, you saved Zack and even me, I appreciate that everyday, and I hope things work out for you."
John Winchester sat in his truck, parked a safe distance away, and watched Sam at his girlfriend's gravesite. He saw Sam talking to some girl, he could tell they knew each other from the past, he had even seen her once or twice when he would check in on Sam in secret. So far things seemed ok but he had to try and get through to Sam somehow.
John was well aware of what Sam faced, even if Sam wasn't, and John had been in his shoes when Mary died. There were always whispers and rumors, no matter what the police finally concluded, he couldn't bare that and while he hoped that Sam's situation was different he doubted it would be; that was just the way thing are sometimes.
Sam's next stop was to his old school. He had a professor there named Professor Jameson who had taken a personal interest in his education, in fact he was the one who helped him decided to go into law.
Before showing up Sam had called ahead and couldn't help but notice that the usually friendly and open Professor was kind of restrained and evasive when Sam told him he was coming by. Eventually, the Professor had agreed to meet with him, but Sam could tell he wasn't sure he wanted to.
If the brief phone conversation was stilted and awkward, the face-to-face conversation was even worse. Sam sat in Professor Jameson's office with the old professor behind his desk.
"I want to come back," Sam said simply, "I was really messed up after Jessica died, but I'm much better now, and I think I can cope with the riggers of school work again."
Professor Jameson looked at him for a moment and Sam was sure he saw a hint of sadness. "As much as I would like that Sam…Mister Winchester, I don't think it's possible." "Why not?" Sam asked furrowing his brow.
"Because," Professor Jameson said simply, "firstly, you were on a scholarship. When you left and were gone for nearly a year you forfeited your spot, and even if that could somehow be worked out, you are implicated in the death of your girlfriend, and I can tell you now that the dean of the school wouldn't allow you to return."
"Now wait a minute!" Sam said with more anger in his voice than he intended. "I had nothing to do with Jessica's death, and the police ruled it an accident." "Still," Professor Jameson said frankly, "the girl's friends and family have hardly been shy about sharing their feelings that you were involved, and you have to admit that taking off like you did looked suspicious."
"Sure it could," Sam said getting more angry, "but I didn't do anything, and I only left to greave and heal!" At that point he angrily slammed his fist down on Professor Jameson's desk, which took Professor Jameson by surprise.
"Mister Winchester!" Professor Jameson said sternly, "Please control yourself. You know I'm on your side on this, but my hands are tied, the administration wouldn't want any negative press or attention, and therefore would never be willing to let someone in your predicament return. I'm afraid that's all there is to it."
"That's not right!" Sam shouted angrily, "I didn't do anything. All I want is my old life back!" "I'm afraid, Sam," Professor Jameson said sadly, "there isn't anything anyone can do about public opinion. If you like, I could write you a glowing letter that could help you get into school elsewhere. The school wouldn't dare stop you from transferring; they just don't want you here."
Sam seemed to consider this and after calming down slightly he stood up and said, "I don't know, I kind of had my heart set on coming back here. Let me look into by options and get back to you ok?"
"As you wish," Professor Jameson said simply, "I will be glad to help, however, I advise you to take me up on that offer, because going to school here just isn't going to happen."
Sam simply nodded slightly and walked out. As soon as he was outside and alone in the hallway he took a deep breath. He could feel rage growing inside of him, he felt so angry like he wanted to hurt someone. How dare Jessica's family and friends run him down while he's gone, and how dare the school refuse to take him back just because of it; he was innocent, but was being punished as if he had done something wrong… the yellow-eyed demon wins again.
John, parked at the far end of the school parking lot, watched as Sam left the building. Even without his binoculars he could see that Sam was not happy. It broke John's heart to think of Sam trying so hard to rebuild his old life only to find out that time and the wagging tongues of others made that impossible.
He wanted to approach him then and there, to try and talk to him, to try and reason with him again, but, deep down, he knew it would be pointless. If he did something like that now, while Sam was still upset, it would only drive him further away. He just had to keep watching and biding his time, the right moment would come. He just hoped it was soon.
Sam went straight to the nearest cheap motel and checked in. Once he was settled in he grabbed some beers he had bought and laid on the bed holding a bottle in one hand and the TV remote in the other.
It didn't take him long to discover that there wasn't anything good on so he turned the TV off and tossed the remote to the end of the bed and just sat there with his beer bottle and his thoughts.
He couldn't stop thinking about what he had learned that day. How could Jessica's family and friends have turned against him? He had always gotten along with them so well, and now they seemed to have set out to make anyone who would listen think he had murdered her and skipped town, despite the fact that the cops has cleared him.
The more he thought about it the angrier he got, and the angrier he got the more he drank. It wasn't long before Sam was drunk and had dug out his cell phone. He still had all of his friends numbers in his phone, even though he hadn't used them in long time, and he decided it was time to call around and find out just where he stood with them, especially the ones he had met through Jessica, the very ones who were probably part of her family's smear campaign against him now.
The results of his call-around were not very encouraging. A lot of the numbers had been changed, and while he knew there could be dozens of reasons why someone changes their number, a dark part of his mind couldn't help but think they did it to keep him from calling them. He felt they had turned against him.
Of those that still had the same numbers most went directly to voice mail. At first Sam was unsure of what to say but he eventually decided to play it cool, he didn't want to alienate anyone who might still be on his side, he was going to need everyone he could get if he insisted on staying in town despite the odds.
Finally, he said, "This is Sam Winchester… I just got back into town to stay, and I wanted to see you again, so give me a call when you get this. Thanks, bye." Then he left them his number, in case they didn't get it off caller I.D. and hung up.
He was about done with his calling when he finally got someone who actually picked up, a buddy of his named Tommy.
"Hello." Tommy said. "Hi!" Sam said surprised that someone had finally picked up, "This is Sam… Winchester." "Oh," Tommy said sounding surprised, "haven't seen you in awhile." "Yeah," Sam said with a nervous laugh, "I just got back into town, was looking into resuming classes and all, just calling up the old gang and seeing if anyone wanted to go out for a beer or something."
"Look," Tommy said in an odd tone, "I don't think that would be a good idea." "Ok," Sam said, "we could have lunch then or something else… doesn't matter what." "That's not what I meant," Tommy said evenly, "I don't think you moving back here would be a good idea. I like you Sam, I really do, that's why I'm telling you. If you try and come back, go to school, whatever, Jess' family and her friends are going to make it a living hell for you."
Sam couldn't help but think of all the things he had seen over the past year and couldn't see that as much of a threat. "I see," Sam said, "so I guess that means you don't want to have anything to do with me either."
"Sam," Tommy said, "I'm sorry… I really am…like I said I like you, I really do, but you have no idea how ugly it got after you left. Jessica's parents are obsessed they won't listen to anyone. They even hired a lawyer and were going to sue the cops because they claimed they botched the investigation… the only thing that stopped them was the arson expert they hired. He went over the evidence and concluded that there was no way a person intentionally started the fire, and that while the circumstances were unusual, they didn't prove murder. That put an end to the lawsuit, but it didn't stop them from making it clear that if the school ever took you back they would call the press and make a stink. Jessica's friends aren't much better, those of us who took your side got harassed big time for months, until we stopped. I can't risk that starting up again. Like I said I'm sorry but I just can't, I'm nearing the graduation, and with the workload I can't have that."
At that point Tommy hung up. Sam was so angry that without even thinking about it he threw his half empty beer bottle against the wall where it shattered and fell to the floor. "Damn it!" he shouted thinking about having to clean the mess up, but then deciding it would leave it until later, much later. However, he decided not to bother to call the last few people. If Tommy was any indication he didn't see the point.
There was one last call he did decide to make though. As he dialed the number, he took some deep breaths and tried to calm himself down, not that it worked. He couldn't go back to school, his so-called friends had all turned against him, he had nothing here anymore, it was all gone, burned up right along with Jessica.
After a few rings Becky picked up. "Hello." Becky said. "Hey! It's Sam, I told you I would give you call." "Hey, Sam!" Becky said, "How did things go?" Sam took another deep breath and said, "You were right, I was pretty much told the school wouldn't take me back, mostly out of fear of bad publicity. Then I tried to call some of my old friends, that was a waste of time."
"I'm sorry," Becky said sounding truly sad, "I know what it can be like. I had it nearly as hard as Zack did, just because he was my brother, and I supported him. Still maybe you can go to another school; surely they would at least be willing to transfer your credits…" Sam cut her off, "That's not really the point. I was trying to rebuild my old life now that Dean is gone, only to find out that I can't."
"I'm sorry," Becky, said, "I wish I could do something. All I can say is that I'm here, and I will stand with you, not that it matters much, people are still talking about me and hard on me, even with Zack gone."
"I appreciate it Becky," Sam said, "I guess I need some time to figure out what my next move is going to be. Hey, you wanna maybe meet for some drinks later? We could go to that bar that we used to hang out in all the time."
"Sure Sam," Becky said, "but I don't know about going there. That's likely to stir up trouble. There's another place we could go." "No," Sam said, "they may be able to keep me out of school, they may even be able to make me unhappy enough to leave town, but I will damned if they're going to keep me from visiting our old hang out just once."
"Alright," Becky said reluctantly, "Just don't say I didn't warn you." "I won't," Sam said in a tone lighter than he had used in awhile, "besides if I can handle shape shifters, I think a few angry college students shouldn't be a big deal."
After getting off the phone with Becky, Sam reached the point where he was starting to get sleepy so he decided to get some sleep; it was hours until he was going to meet with her, and he didn't have anything better to do.
Sam had been a sleep for a little while when he thought he heard something, looking up he saw a shadowy shape standing over him. "Who's there?" Sam said half asleep.
"You keep doing that Sammy, and I'm going to start being offended," a sadly familiar voice said. "Dean?" Sam asked, "Can't be, you're gone." "Come on Sammy, after everything we've seen and done you know there's no such thing as impossible… Hell we hunted vampires, you ever think that would happen?"
"I'm dreaming." Sam said simply. "Does it matter?" Dean asked. "I'm here, real or not, to tell you to go back to Dad. You're making a big mistake. No one wants you here; you don't have a life here; you have nothing here."
"Dean." Sam said sadly, "Don't say that." "I'm sorry Sammy, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, but it's true. Everyone here thinks you're a killer, you would be much better off going back to Bobby's, going back to Dad."
"Better off?" Sam asked harshly. "For how long, how long before I end up dead like you? How long before I have to watch Dad die?" "I don't know," Dean said, "but at least you will be together, at least you will have each other, you will be able to watch out for each other to keep each other safe. Who do you have here to help you? Who's going to watch out for you?"
"I don't need anyone to watch out for me!" Sam shouted angrily, "I can watch out for myself." "Look," Dean said sitting down on the end of Sam's bed. "I know you can take care of yourself but that doesn't mean you have to be alone. Dad needs you to look out of him every bit as much, maybe more, than you need him. You know how he gets on a hunt, especially when it involves the yellow-eyed demon."
"Dean," Sam said, "I'm not like you. I can't make my whole life about revenge and protection and endlessly fighting evil. I have to do something else, and I have to be away from Dad to do it."
Dean looked at Sam with a look sadder than any he had while he was alive and said, "Sammy… Please… I'm begging you, just go back to Dad, take care of him and let him take care of you. Please." "I'm sorry," Sam said starting to tear up, "I can't; I just can't."
John had managed to get a motel room across from where Sam's was and had perfect viewpoint to keep an eye on him.
John was watching as Sam made several phone calls and could tell they didn't go well. Poor Sammy, John thought to himself, I know how you must be feeling. People you thought were your friends have turned against you. They're actually thinking the worst of you, thinking you killed the woman you loved.
This was all bringing back a lot of bad feelings for John, he had gone through of all this when Mary died, and he would have done anything to spare Sam having to go through it too, if only Sam had listened to him before.
Sam eventually finished with the calls and laid down for a nap. John was feeling a little tired himself and decided to close his eyes too. He wouldn't sleep for long but he was pretty sure, judging by the way he had been putting away the beers that Sam would, so he had time for a short nap.
Sam arrived at the bar nearly twenty minutes early, so he decided or go ahead an order a drink and save a table for when Becky arrived.
While he sat there taking large tugs from his bottle of beer he looked around the place, surprised both by how little it had changed and by how significant the changes had been. The last time he had been there Jessica had dragged him to some lame Halloween party, very much against his will, then after hours they came home. That was the night Dean showed up, out of the blue, in their place.
The thought of Dean brought back the dream he had. It was a dream wasn't it? It had to be; there was no way Dean's spirit was still around. Then again, he kept thinking about what Dean said, about nothing being impossible.
Eventually, Sam shook the feeling off and finished his beer just in time to catch a waitress and ask for another. As he waited for the drink to arrive he spotted someone he knew sitting at a corner table.
Oh no, Sam thought, not him. It was Chip, Jessica's boyfriend before Sam. Chip had never liked Sam, for the obvious reasons, but also never missed a chance to run Sam down to anyone who would listen, and Sam was sure he and his buddies were probably leading the charge to smear him now.
Just as Sam looked away he realized that Chip spotted him too and made a face that seemed to say 'what are you looking at you murdering freak'.
Before Sam could react a voice said, "Early I see." Sam looked up and it a Becky, she was nicely dressed and looked more beautiful than Sam had ever recalled seeing her before. Suddenly, he felt kind of ashamed, he had just grabbed any old thing he could find to put on, and she made a real effort.
"Yeah," Sam said standing up and pulling out a chair for Becky to sit down, "didn't have much else to do, so I showed up early to look the old haunt over, for old times' sake." "So," Becky said, "you figure out what you're going to do?"
"Not really." Sam said sadly as his drink arrived, and Becky told the waitress she wanted one as well. "All this past year, traveling with Dean, looking for our dad, I kept thinking that once we found Dad and found out what was going on, got the thing that killed my mom and Jessica that it would be over, and I wound be gone, I would come back here, pick up my old life and that would be it. I never even considered that it would be impossible, difficult yes, but not impossible. I never made another plan."
"Your dad's still out there then, still doing what you and Dean used to do?" Becky asked, careful not to spell it out since the waitress was back with Becky's bottle of beer. "Yeah," Sam said sadly, "but I can't keep going in that life. I never wanted that life, and the only reason I ever was part of it was for Dean… and of course Jessica once she was gone. Without Dean around I just can't continue it."
"Ok, sure," Becky said between sips of her beer, "but now you know you can't stay here either… I mean you could, but it would only be out of stubbornness. You can't have the life here you want, the school won't take you back. What are you going to do get a job and stay her to spite the people who think they can make you leave?"
"No," Sam said, "as much as I want my old life and want to hang on to the idea I can get it back by fighting for it, deep down I know better. The school is just covering its own ass, the others are never going to stop talking, they think someone they loved was murdered by me and they're not happy that no one in authority believes them. Deep down I'm not sure they're not right, at least partially."
"What?" Jessica asked, "Come on… I mean I figure she was killed by some thing, I guessed that after Saint Louis, I mean it fits, but how does that make it your fault." "Because," Sam said in a low tone mixed with anger and sorrow, "the thing that killed her was… is the same thing that killed my mother. A demon who claims to have plans for me, claims he killed them because they 'got in his way', it's all about me."
"You know if anyone else said that I would think they were being egocentric, but when you say it I believe it. Do you know what those plans are?"
"No," Sam said, "have no idea." "Shouldn't you find out? I mean I know if I found out something like that I would want to know everything I can." Becky said. "Yeah, I would like to," Sam said, "and maybe I will at some point. I just have no idea where to start on that, and I need time…after Dean."
"I understand," Becky said, "I can't imagine what I would do if something happened to Zack. I was enough of a wreck when he was accused of murdering his girlfriend and was locked up."
Just then Chip and three of his buddies that Sam didn't recognize walked up to the table. "What do we have here, a murderer and the sister of a murderer?" "Hello Chip," Sam said in an icy tone ignoring his remark.
"Well, well, Winchester is back. I guess criminals do return to the scene of the crime. One year later and here you are back in town wanting to go back to school as if you didn't kill anyone." Chip said mockingly.
"I didn't kill anyone," Sam said in a tone of quiet anger. "Yeah right," Chip said, "I don't care what the local cops say, you killed Jessica, and I'm going to make sure you pay, one way or another."
"Is that a threat?" Becky asked, "because I can call the police if you like and let them talk to you about the harassment…again." "You stay out of this," Chip said shooting Becky an angry stare, "this is between me and Winchester, the murderer."
"Stop that," Sam said, "you leave Becky alone and go away." "What are you going to do Winchester, set me on fire and skip town for a year?" Chip asked harshly.
Sam was getting angry. He would love nothing better than to kick Chip's ass, but he remembered what his dad had taught him and Dean when he started teaching them how to fight. They were never supposed to use their skills against normal people. John knew they would be tempted to take down the odd schoolyard bully, but he warned them that using their skills would be unfair to normal people and would cause questions to be asked they wouldn't want to answer, so out of habit and training Sam restrained himself.
Luckily, he didn't have to restrain himself for long as the manager came over. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" he asked Chip and his buddies. "Nothing," Chip said angrily, "I just didn't know you started serving murders."
"Not this again," the manager said, "every time you guys come in you get drunk and start going on about that. I want you guys out of here now and consider yourselves banned; I'm tired of you hassling my customers."
"What?" Chip said full on angry, "you banning us but you're going to keep on serving Sam Winchester the killer?" "Listen to me Chip," the manager said, "I know Sam from before, and I can tell you he didn't kill anyone. Now get out or I'm calling the cops, or maybe… I will just get my bat from behind the bar and bust your stupid head myself."
"Fine," Chip said sounding like a sulking child, "but this isn't over. Don't think you're getting away with this Winchester. You will pay for Jessica's murder, you bastard." Sam didn't say anything; he didn't want to, he wasn't sure he would be able to control himself if he did.
After the run in with Chip, Sam and Becky did their best to have a good time and tried, each on their own, to avoid talking about their situation anymore. They actually discovered a good deal of other topics they were more than happy to talk about, and by the time they had finished they were surprised to learn it was closing time.
As they got outside Sam asked, "How are you getting home? I don't think you should drive." Becky told him, "Not to worry, I took a cab here and I plan on doing the same to get back home. You wanna share?"
"I would," Sam, said sounding almost like he meant it "but I'm staying at a nearby motel in the opposite direction." "How are you getting there then?" Becky asked suddenly concerned. "I'm not that bad off; I walked here, and I can walk back. The cool air will sober me up some, and I need to think…about tomorrow." He said the last part with a forced smile that made Becky worry, but she knew she was no position to protest.
"Well," Becky said hailing a passing cab, "you be careful out there." Sam smiled again and this time it was at least half real, "I can take care of myself; you're starting to sound like Dean." Becky smiled and said, "I didn't know him well, but I'm sure he just wanted to make sure you were safe."
"Yeah," Sam said wistfully, "I miss that sometimes…but let me assure you I can handle myself." "I'm sure," Becky said walking over to a cab that finally responded to her frantic attempts to get one to stop. Sam leaned in and opened the door for her and made sure she got in.
"Good night, Becky," Sam said smiling again, this one even more real than before. "Good night, Sam," Becky said, not bothering to add 'be careful' again. As the cab pulled out of sight Sam turned around and started walking the other way back to his motel.
At that time of night the town was oddly silent and dark, neither of which particularly bothered him. How could the stuff that would scare a normal person bother him after all of the extraordinary things he had seen in his life, not to mention in the past year with Dean?
Things always seemed to come back to Dean. No matter how much he tried not to dwell on him, Sam couldn't help but think about him. How could he not? Dean was his brother. They had spent every moment of everyday, or pretty close to it, together looking for thier missing father. They had even managed to reconnect along the way and now…now at the end of the trail Dean was dead.
Suddenly, Sam heard a voice, "Winchester!" Sam turned. It was Chip again. Sam took a deep breath, their father may have taught them not to use their skills against normal people but, of course, the one exception he allowed was self-defense. If it came down to it, they were, of course, allowed to defend themselves, and now out in the dark without witnesses Sam would if Chip was stupid enough to give him no other choice.
Chip walked up to where Sam was standing, until he was only one foot in front of him. "Tell me, Winchester, how does it feel to burn someone alive and get off totally free and clear?" Sam grimaced, "I've told you, I didn't do anything to Jessica. I was distraught over her accident and had to take time off, so I went on a road trip with my brother."
"Oh with your brother," Chip smirked. "I heard about him, he's the one who's supposed to have killed a bunch of women in Saint Louis, took the rap for Zack Warren, but we all know that's crap, don't we. Zack killed his girlfriend just like you killed Jessica. Tell me did your brother kill the other girls or was that all three of you? Just a bunch of no good murderers."
"Don't talk about my brother like that," Sam said simply in a low growl. "What?" Chip said, "Bother you that he's a murder just like you?" "Shut up, now!" Sam said again. "What are you going to do about it Sammy."
"Only Dean calls me that!" Sam shouted decking Chip in the face. Chip hit the ground, but before Sam could walk away Chip's friends jumped him, taking him by surprise and dragging him down a nearby alley.
John parked outside some local bar all night as he watched through a nearby window. He saw as Sam and the girl from the cemetery had some drinks.
Around closing time they came out, she got in a cab, and Sam started walking back home. Sam was obviously, at least a little, drunk, but insisted on walking. John thought about pulling up and offering him a ride, but he knew if he didn't time his intervention just right the whole thing would blow up in his face, again, and they would have to start over, so instead he slowly followed at a safe distance.
Damn it! John thought to himself when saw some guy walk up to Sam and get into his face. He had seen them have some kind of situation in the bar, and the other guy and his goons got kicked out. Looked like, at least, he was back for revenge.
John was sort of proud with how Sam was restraining himself, at least Sam was remembering the lessons he had given him on not using his fighting skills on just anyone. Then he saw Sam punch him, and the guy hit the ground; there are limits to self-control.
Then John's heart sank when he saw the other guys come out of nowhere and grab Sam and pull him down an alleyway.
Screw this right time crap, John thought, I have to go and help Sammy. John jumped out of his truck and ran across the street, then started to stealthily head down the alleyway.
Chip was able to drag himself up and follow his guys, who had Sam in their vise-like grips, as they headed down the alley.
Once they got out of sight, the boys held him down while Chip made his way over. "You shouldn't have done that Winchester." Chip said sounded not only angry but also unhinged. "I was just going to scare you, get you leave town, now I'm afraid I'm going to have to play rough."
As if to emphasize his point Chip pulled his arm back and hit Sam as hard as he could in the face. Sam winced a bit but then smiled and said, "You hit like a girl." In truth it did sting, but he had felt much worse.
"Well," Chip said with an evil smirk, "let's see how you like this." Then Chip hit him in the stomach. Sam lost his breath, but other than that he had no reaction. Finally, after getting his breath back Sam said, "Oh come on, tough guy, I've felt way worse than that."
Chip couldn't believe it, either Winchester was a nut that liked pain, or he was used to treatment worse than Chip could dish out. "Fine Winchester," Chip said, "have it your way. Now comes justice, eye for an eye style. You burned up Jessica, so now it's your turn. Boys, get me the gas can and the matches."
For a moment, Chip's gang just stood there. They had talked about it, joked about it really, but no one had given it serious thought. "What are you waiting for, hurry up!" The pause was all that Sam needed, they had taken him by surprise, and he had been more drunk than he had admitted, but the element of surprise was gone as Sam had sobered up quick.
In one well-practiced move he tossed off the goons holding him. As they fell to the ground Sam focused his growing rage on Chip. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt Sam pushed him against a nearby brick wall.
"You bastard!" Sam shouted. "Who do you think you are, you and people like you? You shoot off your mouth about things and people you don't even know or understand. Where do you think you get off?" Sam's grip tightened with every word until Chip's face turned red.
Sam was choking the life out of him, and no matter how much Chip struggled, he couldn't get free. Then after a few more seconds there was a crack as Sam's grip snapped Chip's neck, and it was over… Chip was dead.
Sam tossed Chip's lifeless body aside as if it was nothing and turned to his goons. By now, Sam's eyes had a weird yellowish glow that freaked the others out, and in a weird deep voice Sam shouted, "Who's next?!"
Chip's goons slowly stood up and tried to run, but suddenly they found they couldn't move, it was as if some invisible force was holding them in place. Then suddenly they were tossed against the brick wall. They hit with such a force, and none of those who lived understood what was going on.
Sam moved closer with an evil grin on his face. "Come on guys. You wanted to play before, and now that I'm in the mood you want to stop." "Please," one of the guys begged, "it was all Chip, we didn't want to do any of it, Chip just didn't stop talking…" "Shut up!" Sam yelled.
Sam was about to finish them off when a familiar voice yelled, "Sammy stop!" Sam turned it was his father, John. "Well, well, well, if it isn't daddy dearest. What you doing, checking up on me, watching out for me? I told you back at Bobby's I didn't want any of that."
"Sam," John said in a sad tone, "look at you, and look at what you've done. You're not yourself. You killed that man, and look at what you're doing to his friends." "Well," Sam said in an almost conversational tone, "they were asking for it."
"No," John said shaking his head, "the Sammy I know wouldn't do that to anyone. He wouldn't snap some guy's neck that stuff with the telekinesis and look at yourself…look at your eyes. Where have you seen yellow eyes like that before?"
"Enough, old man!" Sam shouted waving his hand and pinning John against the brick wall. "Chippy here," Sam said with glee, "was just a warm up, a stand in for what I wanted to do to you. How nice of you to save me a trip to find you."
John struggled trying to get free but knew it was pointless. Sam moved over to where John was pinned. "I'm going to do this with my own two hands, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. Do you have even the slightest idea of what you put me through all of my life?"
By this point, the force was choking off John's air so he couldn't speak; all he could do was gasp for air. "I didn't think so," Sam said mockingly, "you made feel like a freak my entire life, just because I didn't share you obsession for revenge. Because I didn't take to shooting or combat training or any of it, because I was always seeking out a normal life, you made me feel like nothing. You made me feel like an outcast in my own family because I wanted to do what normal children did. You fought with me every step of the way, and whenever I did something that a real father would be proud of, you attacked me for it. Dean was the good one; he took to all your stupid training like a natural and was foolish enough to never question you."
"Of course," Sam added, "we know where that got him don't we? Be sure to say hello to him for me when you see him again. Shouldn't be too much longer, unless I get in a playful mood and decide to drag things out."
Sam leaned in and wrapped his fingers around John's neck, "Time to finally die you old fool." Just then Sam heard another familiar voice, "Stop it!" Sam turned; it was Dean's ghost. "Stop it Sammy!" Dean said standing just behind him.
"Impossible!" Sam shouted, "I was dreaming before but I'm awake now, I know you can't be here." "Yet," Dean said, "here I am, to stop you from making a big mistake. You've turned evil, Sammy, but there is still good inside you, I can feel it, it's not too late. All you have to do is let Dad go and listen to me. Calm yourself down and let him help you. You can be good again."
"No," Sam said, "I have him now, and I can make him pay for the rotten things he's done to me…to us… growing up." "Sammy," Dean said, "Dad didn't do anything to us growing up. He helped us. Dad helped us become what we are, helped us be able to fight evil when we find it."
"I'm tired of fighting… all it did was get you killed. He never asked us if we wanted this, he never asked what we wanted." Sam said angrily. "You didn't ask me either," Dean said simply, "you've been saying he forced this life on us and did things to us, you never considered that I wanted this life, at least as much as Dad did. I get that you were too young to remember mom like I did, but you know how you felt after Jessica died. That's how dad felt. Honestly, if you had two young sons when Jessica died, would you have handled things any different than Dad?"
Sam seemed to consider that question, "I… I would like to think I would given them a choice." "At four years old… at six months old…? He had to protect us, teach us to protect ourselves, everything he did was to do just that."
"No!" Sam shouted, "He wanted us to be part of his revenge. You said it yourself before, it's the family business." "Sam," Dean said, "you had a choice and you took it. You left to go to school, and Dad accepted that. He even came by and checked on you; made sure you were ok."
"Did he have to make leaving so hard…so permanent? He even cut us off from each other. I told him after you died you were more of a father to me than he was. The deepest cut of the whole thing was loosing you when I left; we lost years because of his stubbornness. Then we get a chance to make a fresh start and what happens, he lets you die."
"No!" Dean said, "He didn't let me die. I know now, he was planning on doing something terrible to keep me alive. He was going to deal with the yellow-eyed demon. He was going to call him up and deal with him, give him the colt, or whatever it took to get him to keep me alive. He just ran out of time, and I'm glad."
"Glad?" Sam said uncertain, "He could have saved you, and you're glad he didn't?" "Of course I am," Dean, said, "the last thing he should be doing is cutting deals with the bastard that ruined our lives, not for anything."
"I want you back Dean," Sam said suddenly, "I need you. Since you've died, I've been lost, nothing makes sense, nothing works, I'm angry and sad all the time. I can't go on!"
"Of course you can, Sammy," Dean said trying to reassure him, "I told you, you would never be totally alone, that's because I'm here, and I always will be, but you have to let Dad go and you have to go with him and stay with him, and you can heal together."
"I…" Sam started to say as Dean's ghost moved closer. "Shhhhh," Dean said, "don't say anything. Sammy just relax, please, find yourself buried under all the hate, anger and grief. Dad's not to blame for my death, I chose to be a hunter, I chose to be there to get the thing that hurt us all, and it was just my time to go. Anything Dad would have done to save me would have been unnatural."
At this point Dean's ghost reached out and touched Sam on the shoulder and he could feel energy move through his body. He could feel Dean's emotions toward him flooding him. He could feel the love, the concern, the caring. Then Dean's ghost moved closer and hugged him, and Sam was washed away on a tidal wave of Dean's emotions, all the things Dean had wanted to say to Sam over the years but held back, all the happy times, all of the love, he could feel it all enter his body and wash away the pain, the anger and grief.
Sam went limp and started to fall, but Dean's ghost caught him and held him tighter as he lowered Sam down to he ground. Sam's eyes, back to their normal color, were wide open, and he muttered, "Dean I love you, and I miss you…" As Sam's eyes slowly closed Dean said, "I love you too kid, rest now."
As Sam went out his hold on John passed, and he collapsed to the ground. John was shaky at first as he forced himself to his feet, but he managed to stand and walk over to where Sam was laying. Seeing Dean's ghost standing over him John took it in stride and asked, "Is he ok?"
Dean looked at him and said, "Yeah I think so. He went really dark there for a little while, but I was able to help him come back." "How?" John asked. "It's going to sound hokey, but with the power of our love for each other, our bond allowed me to reach a place that no one else could." "That's not hokey, son, that's what family does, and you were closer to him that anyone. In fact, that was part of the reason I was willing to make that deal to get you back. I knew I couldn't reach Sam like you could."
Dean just stared into the distance for a bit and said, "I know. It really is true; once you die you're kind of connected to everything. I know all about your plans to deal with the yellow-eyed demon and about his plans, even about the darkness that Sam has inside that we got a taste of today. He's not totally safe from having it happen again, but now that it has and he knows what could happen, he should be more open to staying with you and letting you help him. Of course, you need to let him help you too."
John thought for a moment about that and said, "I will." Dean turned and said, "Now that I know you two are going to be ok, I can go." "Wait!" John said, "You told Sam you would be with him." "Yes," Dean said, "I will, everywhere is nearby where I am. If he needs me again, like tonight, I will be around, but I can't always be there or he will never heal, he will never get over my death and that will always be a wound that can evil can infect."
Sam and John had made the trip back to Bobby's in record time. Sam was awfully quiet the whole time and seemed deep in thought. He was much less angry and much more his old self, but still his long silences were unnerving.
John kept reminding himself that Dean's ghost had told him they would be all right, and he clung to that. There was a war coming, after all, and John wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen when it started, but he knew at least that they had each other and maybe a guardian angel of sorts in Dean.