So, this is something I've had tucked away for awhile, debating on whether or not I wanted to continue it. However, I don't want to make this into a monster fic, and I can't figure out a different ending, so here you go! I wrote this before rewatching the season 11 finale, when I had a different theory of what happened - if Mary came back, then why not John? And since he obviously isn't with Mary and Dean, then where else would he be but with Sam?
I do not own Supernatural.
I hope you enjoy!
He appeared in a darkened hallway. Light filtered in from an open door at the end, and the sight almost took his breath away. He hadn't seen light in what seemed like an eternity, though he knew it was only a decade at the very most, and time was fluid, anyway, when you were a lost soul drifting through the void. The main question was why he was no longer in that void - why he had a body - why he had appeared here - why -
Voices. Indecipherable, and painful to his ears after a decade of silence, but like a siren call they pulled him forward. Peering around the corner, this time the sight does manage to take his breath away, if only for a moment. An unknown woman holds a gun on a tall man, whose face is rough with grief and much older than the last time he saw him, but who is undoubtably Sam Winchester.
Sam moves forward, and keeps moving, and doesn't stop, either not seeing or ignoring the decision in the woman's eyes.
He moves before she does, hand instinctively moving to the gun strapped at the small of his back, somehow still there after a decade in the void. He draws it, takes a split second to aim, and fires.
Sam Winchester jolts, shock growing on his face as he sees the woman fall, and John Winchester steps into the light.
"Dad!?" His voice is high-pitched from shock, and he clears it roughly even as he stoops, burying his face in the juncture where his dad's neck and shoulder meet. His arms move of their own accord, closing around his father's body, and his hands clench tightly in the familiar jacket. He knows he shouldn't - he should be running tests - salt, silver, borax - but he can't, and right now, he doesn't care. He doesn't care if this man is actually a shifter, or a leviathan, or anything else. He only cares that it looks, feels, and - he inhales deeply - smells like his father, and if there's one thing he could wish for now that Dean was dead, it was that he could die, here, in his father's arms. And it would be in his arms, because this isn't a one-sided hug - for the first time in over a decade, Sam's father is hugging him, and it's the only thing in the entire world that matters - not that that means much, because right now, the entire world has shrunk down to them.
John holds on to his son tighter than he ever held anyone or anything before, ignoring the wet tears that drip down both their faces.
The bunker door clangs open, and an anxious voice calls, "Sam?" John and his youngest son both look up to find olive green and ocean blue eyes staring back at them.
"Dean!" Sam gasps, then looks at the woman standing beside his brother and stops breathing for a split second. "Mom?" he whispers. "You're both alive!"
"Both?" John grunts, frowning at his elder son. "There a reason you're supposed to be dead?"
"Uh…" Dean grinds out, shaken by recent events and unsure how to respond to an authority figure missing from his life for a decade. "Yes, sir? Or, well… kind of? For both of us? And, uh…" He suddenly finds himself rescued by an armful of younger brother. His arms automatically came up and, upon feeling his shirt grow smaller as Sam clenched the material at his back, tightened in return.
"You're alive," Sam whispered again, and if possible, Dean's arms tightened just a little bit more. Then arms, unfamiliar for the majority of their lives but equal to safety all the same, encircled them both, and then another pair joined them, and for the first time in over thirty decades, Mary, John, Sam, and Dean Winchester shared a hug.
So, a cheesy ending, but I hope you enjoyed. Please review!
