Title: Sam and Emily
Author: nightrose_spn
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3633
Summary: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.
Notes/Warnings: Based on herebutnotremembered's video. For pippenlove. Contains slash, wincest, angst, violence, language..
Sam. This is Dean. Call me.
Sammy, you were supposed to come back.
College is over, Sam, where the hell are you?
I need you, Sammy. Okay? Happy? I admitted it. I need you back. I can't stand this.
At least call, Sam.
Call your big brother, you fucking asshole.
Sammy, please.
Why won't you come back, Sam?
You promised you'd come back after school ended. Where are you, Sammy?
It's twelve. He never calls after twelve. This will be all the messages I get from Dean today. I tell my phone to clear my inbox. God, if Derek ever found them, found out that there were some man calling me, he'd be so furious. If he knew it was my brother…
My hand drifts up. I'm touching the bruise under my left eye. It's sore.
His voice in the back of my head tells me that I deserve it.
It didn't start like this. When I met him, my first year of law school, Derek was different. He was handsome and charming. I remember loving to run my hands through the stubble of his blonde hair. I remember when he supported me. When my dreams were important to him, when he wanted us to build a life together.
He reminded me of Dean.
It isn't like that anymore. He works. I don't. I stay at home. He tells me, often enough, that it's only right. After all, I am the girl in the relationship.
I'm not good at it, though. My upbringing didn't exactly involve the domestic arts. It makes him mad. I can't keep his dinner warm and the kitchen spotless, especially not with Emily running around underfoot.
She's a good kid, though, my Emily. Just six months old when Jess died in that horrible fire. It hadn't been easy for two college kids to deal with having a baby, and when we lost Jess, people said I should give Emily up for adoption. I wasn't ready, they said.
I was.
Dean had been ready when our mother died. He was four. Ready for a lifetime of caring for a baby. I could be, twenty years later.
I'd even found someone to love me and my little girl. Derek was happy to have both of us. He treated her like his own daughter. His little princess.
Jess was the first person I'd been with before him, and he thought of her as a sort of surrogate. It was good I'd met her, good she'd had me so she could have our child, a perfect little girl for Derek and I to raise.
Nowadays, it isn't like that. He thinks it's good that Jess is dead, so he can have what he wants. He hates that he's gay, that he can't be normal, but he tries his best. He has me at home, like a wife, while he goes out and earns money. Then he comes back and proves he's a man by beating me senseless.
If I ever call Dean back, he'll know. He'll know how weak, how fucking pathetic, I am. It's bad enough that I'm with a man, but the thought of my big brother knowing that I'm letting another guy abuse me? That I let the training Dad gave us slide, that I just stand there and take it, don't return the punches or even scream for help?
If I made noise, I'd wake Emily up.
I can't contact Dean. I left for a reason, after all. I'm a sick freak. I deserve everything Derek does to me. Not just because I've led all the women I've ever loved to death, not just because I only barely managed to save Emily from the thing that killed Jess, not just because I'm weak.
I'm in love with my brother. It makes my stomach turn, just thinking it. I'm disgusting. I had to leave. I had to get away from the consuming lust that was tearing me apart.
Derek knows. That's why I deserve it. I told him, just like I told Jess. Hoping he could bring me absolution.
That was when he started hitting me. I dropped out of law school after a few months of it. I couldn't put up with it anymore. It was too much stress, trying to stay in class and keep up with all his demands.
"Daddy?" Emily says quietly.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Is Derek gonna come home soon?" She never calls him Dad, even though he asks. He screams about that too. He thinks I'm poisoning her. Says I'm trying to keep his own child from him.
"He'll be home tonight, Emily. But you gotta go to bed now."
It's eight-thirty, past bedtime. Derek's late again. That doesn't matter, though. I'm trying to keep her away from him. My worst fear is that he'll be violent to her, but I don't think he will. She's the only part of his perfect home life that's exactly the way he wants it to be. I'm not good enough, I don't fit into the box he's made for me. She's right and I'm wrong.
I get her changed into her pajamas and tuck her in. She's good at going to bed, even though she's a really picky eater. "Kiss goodnight, Daddy!" she demands.
I bend and press my lips to her forehead, then each of her eyes, then the tip of her nose, then her chin. Dean always used to kiss me goodnight just like that when I was little. I tuck the sheets up by her neck and smile. "'Night, sweetheart. See you in the morning."
"'Night, Daddy!"
When I get downstairs, Derek is sitting on the couch, his feet on the table, rifling through the magazines I'd put into perfect order early yesterday morning. I consider sneaking out, but clear my throat.
"Hey, baby. I was just putting Emily to bed. Let me heat your dinner up, it'll just be a second."
I know it won't work. And it doesn't.
"What the fuck is on your phone, Sam?"
Shit. I cleared that out, didn't I? The messages from…
"There's a text message from your brother. He 'just wants you back, Sammy.'"
He literally spits the nickname in my face, and it makes something fundamental inside me shrivel and die. I sob a little. That's Dean's. He can't call me that. He can't have that. He can break the rest of me but that name is Dean's, it's not his to twist and destroy.
"You're disgusting, Sam. You know that."
"I do." I look down. "Should I go warm up dinner, honey?'
"The fuck? I work for nine hours to keep you and your kid fed, and you don't even have my dinner ready for me when I get home?"
"I'm sorry. Emily was-" I always have an excuse, and it never does any good. This time, though, it's worse than it's ever been before.
"You think I give a damn what that little whore was doing?" I gasp aloud. He's never called my daughter a name before. Never hurt her in any way. "Maybe you want her to take the blame, huh? Want me to go beat her tiny little ass instead of yours?"
"NO!" I can't help the immediate protest. "Derek, no, please. Don't hurt her." I'd fight him. I'd stop him with my life if I had to, to protect her.
He seems to consider it for a moment. Then he shrugs. "Okay. Guess I can just hit you."
And he does. At the end, I'm lying on the floor, bleeding from three places.
"Go get dinner ready, slut. And for God's sake, wipe off the floor," he hisses.
So that's the night I leave.
Derek eats his dinner. I don't have an appetite. I tell him I'll be up to bed soon, but fortunately he's asleep by the time I've cleaned the dishes and tidied the living room. I'm pretty sure I'm too badly beaten to lie back and let him fuck me the way I usually do.
It's midnight, as good a time as any for danger. I tiptoe to Emily's room. She's fast asleep. In her closet, buried under a spare set of pink sheets, are two suitcases. I pick them both up and carry them to the car.
Then I go back in. She stirs just a little bit in my arms. "Daddy?" she mumbles in her sleep.
"Shh, sweetheart. We're gonna go for a little ride."
"Okay."
"Go back to sleep."
She nods, a child's perfect trust, and rests her head back on my chest. I bring her down the stairs silently.
Just as I'm closing the door, I hear Derek's footfalls beside the bed. "Sam? Where the fuck are you?"
I close my eyes and put Emily down in the car. "Be quiet, sweetie. I'll be back in a second," I whisper. Then I head back inside. "I'm here, Derek. We ran out of coffee. I'm gonna run to the convenience store so there'll be some for you in the morning, all right?"
"Better be," he hisses. "I'm going back to bed."
"All right. Sleep well." I hear as he lapses back into the stupor I'm sure is at least a touch drunken. After all, how often is he sober?
Emily's asleep in the back. I carefully tuck her in. There's a six-pack of Coca-Cola in the glove compartment. I crack one open so I know I'll stay awake and press the gas into the floor. If I drive through the night and the day tomorrow, I'll be safe. Emily will be safe.
It's long and boring. I keep the radio off whenever Emily's sleeping, which is fortunately often. When she's not out, she's asking question. "Why'd we leave?" "Where are we going?" "Is Derek gonna meet us there?"
I can't do this on my own. I realize that after sixteen solid hours of driving. I pull into a crappy little motel, ask for a single bed. I get some funny looks, a grown man with a little girl, but the lady behind the counter sees the bruises on my face and gives me a motherly smile and the key. I put cartoons on for Emily and collapse. For tonight, we're safe, but Derek has access to my accounts. I never ran credit card scams or hustled-the money was always Dean's job. I didn't finish law school or take the bar exam. I can't work some steady job, because I have to look after Emily.
I can't do this on my own. Derek's looking for me, I'm sure. I can't just walk away with what's his.
Emily's eating peas and macaroni I'd found at a diner right near the motel. She'll be four in two weeks. I want her to have a home by then. I want her to be safe, by the time she'll be old enough to understand, to remember, that she ever wasn't.
It's raining hard outside in the morning, when I wake up. I thank the lady and get back in the car. The first thing I do is get out my cell phone.
My hands shake as I dial the number.
"Hello?"
At the sound of his voice, everything breaks inside me. I start to sob, only managing the words, "D…Dean, it's… it's… Sam," so he'll know it's not some random stranger prank-calling him. Just his pathetic little brother.
"Sammy? What's wrong?"
"I… I'm so sorry. That I…"
I hear relief in his voice. "That you didn't come back?"
"Yeah. I swear… I swear I'll tell you why, Dean. I just want to do it face to face."
Emily chirps, from the backseat, "Daddy, are you okay?"
"Who's that?" Dean asks.
"Dean, I want you to meet someone. This is your niece, Emily." I hand her the phone.
"Hi!" she babbles excitedly. "I'm Emily and your brother is my daddy. I'm almost four years old and I want a bike for my birthday and my favorite color is pink. Are you Dean like from the stories my daddy tells me?"
I can hear him laugh from the cell phone's speaker.
They talk to each other for a while, Emily's small voice at a ridiculously high pitch. It makes me smile as I start up the car and head… somewhere. "Sweetie, can I have the phone back?"
"But Daaad, I'm talking to Uncle Dean!"
"I need to, Emily. I'm sorry."
She hands it over, pouting. I smile. "Dean?"
"She's amazing, Sammy. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I swear I'll explain. Do you… where are you? I'm in North Carolina. Near Raleigh?"
"Stay there. I'll meet you."
I give him detailed directions and then wait. It isn't easy to sit in the car, knowing that when he gets here I'll have to tell him. He'll want to know, he'll demand to know, and then he'll hate me once he finds out, but I owe this to him. I can't not tell him. I can't leave him in the dark.
He deserves better than what I've given him. Better than who I am. Dean deserves better than me, and Emily deserves a better father than me, but I can't change who I am. I can't make myself good enough.
I wonder if I'll ever believe how truly sorry I am.
Dean shows up by dinnertime. I hear the Impala before I see it. Then I see him. I keep my eyes down, so he won't see the desolation of my face. I feel the door open, a fist in my shirt dragging me from the car so he won't scare Emily as he rages at me.
Dean's good with kids.
"You asshole. You selfish, greedy, stupid son-of-a-bitch. I didn't know if you were fucking alive or dead for seven years, and… Sammy, fucking look at me!"
I swallow deeply and slowly tilt my head up.
"Sammy?" he whispers, tracing the bruise on my cheek carefully. "Sammy, what happened to you?" The change in his behavior is sudden. His anger is gone, disappeared, replaced with simple, pure love and concern.
"I… should… When I was in my sophomore year, I had a girlfriend-Jessica. We were… we were pretty serious. She got… pregnant, and… Emily's our daughter. After… I… Oh, God. Dean, Dean I'm…" I shiver as I take a breath.
"What is it? Sammy?" he's stepping towards me, all kinds of earnestness in his eyes.
"I'm gay."
"Oh." Dean shrugs. "Hey, I've never been one for denying half the population the joys of Winchester love… though it does raise some questions about how you wound up with a girlfriend and a kid."
"I… Dean?"
He's closer, now, like he's about to reach out to touch me again. "Sam, is this why you stayed away so long? You thought… what? I'd hate you? Not be able to look at you? Or was it Emily? You thought I didn't want to meet my own niece? That perfect little girl?"
"Dean, Jess died. She burnt to death on the ceiling the night Emily turned six months old."
"Oh God."
"It was the thing that killed our mother and I ended it before it could get to my daughter." I fully expect rage for this as well. I should have told him. He doesn't answer, though. "After I… I met this guy. Derek. And he… seemed perfect. And…"
"Sammy?" He's talking to me like I'm a child after a nightmare. Slowly, he steps towards me and wraps me in his arms.
"I told him… everything. About me, about how I kill every woman I love, about how… God. I told him. And he… he started to… I deserved it. I'm not mad at him or anything, but he threatened Emily yesterday night and…"
I'm sobbing into my big brother's shoulder, and I feel the shame on my skin. I should be a man. Be stronger.
Dean shoves me back. His eyes are full of rage and I start to shake. Before I can think it through I scream, "No, please!"
"Sammy?"
"No, don't, please don't, Dean, don't hurt me…"
The fire in his eyes cools and he pulls me closer. "Oh, God. Sam, I wasn't gonna hurt you. I'll never hurt you, baby brother. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him. I'm mad at myself."
"Why…"
"I failed you. If you ever thought, for one second, that I would rather you stay with an abuser than come where I could help you, for any reason, then I failed."
"Oh?" My laugh is loud, mocking. "How's this for a reason?" I bend my head down a bit and kiss him quickly. It's just a half-second brush of lips, but it's bliss, perfection.
Before he can react, Emily stirs, calling out for me, and I open the door of the Volvo to let her out. "Sweetie, this is your uncle Dean," I say.
"Hi, Emily." He bends down to smile at her, grateful that he doesn't have to keep eye contact with me.
She looks up at him, a moment's confusion evident, and then enfolds him in a hug, her little arms not reaching around his back. He scoops her up and laughs. "Dean!" she squeals. "De!"
I used to call him that when I was little.
Then she purses her little lip. "No. Not De. De-de. Like Daddy." That sounds right to her ears and she smiles and nods. "De-de."
My heart swells, though I know Dean won't stay long. He lets us pile into the Impala, loads our stuff up, and tells me we should drive away from the car unless Derek has it tracked. I nod, though I wonder how Emily and I are supposed to keep going after he leaves.
We stop late that night. Emily is asleep, and Dean asks if it's okay for him to carry her inside. I nod. It seem so perfect, my peaceful little girl against the strong chest of the man I love. I just wish it could last.
He takes his time, tucking her in carefully, before he speaks into the awkward silence of the room. "Sam, I know this is your line, but… we need to talk."
"No shit." I shrug. "Lay it on me. Tell me how much you hate me. Call me a sick freak. Let me know that you never want to see my face again. I deserve it. I've heard it before."
Dean snaps, "Can we not talk about him, okay?"
"Okay." I bite my lip. I want the last conversation I'll ever have with my brother to be as peaceful as possible.
"Sam, I… I need to say this first. I know it's… not the kinda thing I usually say, but… I love you." He looks down at the table. "Maybe that's why I drove you away, let you think I could live without you, that I could ever hate you. I… I love you too much, Sammy. I… I want you. I don't know why, I don't usually like men, but I want you."
"Fuck," I whisper, pressing my hands flat against the table as I stand. "Dean, you don't have to do this, okay? You want me back in your life, despite everything? You want Emily with you? I'll take it and be grateful. I can be just your brother, Dean. It's more than I've hoped for for a very, very long time."
"You idiot," he replies. "Sit back down." Startled, I obey. "You think I'd lie about something like that? Sam, you're the only person I've ever loved. Okay? Ever. Dad, well… I obeyed him, but… you're my life, man. You're everything. I want you. I want you and I love you and I need to keep you safe. So, I'm asking… will you stay? Let me be your brother, your lover, your daughter's father? Please?"
"Y…yes," I say. Selfish. Selfish to take this, but also impossible to deny everything I want. "Dean…"
"And for the record? That bastard had no right to hurt you. I know you think he did, but there's nothing wrong with you. Just because the demon… something evil hates you that much… it's actually a good thing. And loving me… Sam, I'm damn grateful for that." He smiles. "Come to bed, Sammy?"
I'm a little worried. Will I be good enough? But all Dean does is kiss me gently and wrap me up in the blankets and the curve of his body.
I look over at the other side of the bed. Emily's eyelashes fluttering against the pillow, Dean's warmth spooned behind me, my own heart pounding, Derek thousands of miles behind me, all I can think is that this is happiness. I know I have a long way to go. I know I have not changed, and that in the morning I'll be full of baggage and angst once again, but right now all I feel is peace.
This is what I've always wanted. Someone to complete my family. Someone who's always been missing. Someone to love me and Emily both.
"Love you, Dean," I whisper, and he kisses my neck and smiles, two actions I feel rather than see.
"Love you, Sammy. You're safe here."
In the morning, that'll embarrass me. When Emily needs breakfast and has an ungodly amount of energy for six A.M., when Dean is cranky and I've had nightmares of being beaten by a drunk into our kitchen floor, I'll blush remembering the words, but right now I just say, "I know," and drift to sleep as Dean cradles me close, like something precious, like something good.
I could swear the way Emily smiles in her sleep is a little mocking, a little knowing, and a lot delighted.
It won't happen in a moment, but happily-ever-after starts here.