Tag for 11.11 It could be a long night with Dean hurt, but as usual Sam knows just how to make his brother comfortable. Somethings never change and Sam knows it's time to get what's between them out in the open...Mildred obviously loves sunsets and her retirement, but the Winchester boys have always favored the sunrise.
To Tarane: Hope you like this! Even though I had already written most of this at the time of your request I added to this story just for you (even though it's still quite short). I always write with you guys' gratification in mind, hope you all enjoy!
THE BOX
Banshees. God, Dean hates them.
The chicks were loud and annoying. If Dean had ever truly met just a BITCH, banshees took the cake. His ears are ringing with her screech, he can't see anything, he's dizzy just from raising his head, his entire body feels numb, but he can feel the crushing pain of his skull. The smell filling his nose is death, god she smells, like, well...a dead witch.
Then he sees lady legacy stab her, real badass, in the stomach and she's gone with a last blasting screed in Dean's head. But nothing changes. He still can't hear, the dizziness is back, his head hurts like a bitch, her smell lingers and all he really wants is Sam.
He needs Sam's assuring presence while he's so vulnerable, while he can't even frigging hear anything. Sam is all he's ever known, he's all he's ever needed, and he wants that right now. There's been times he couldn't have it, times when he was down in cold Purgatory mud and wanted Sam's warm loving presence and couldn't have it. Times when he was alone and ripped to pieces in hell and wanted his little brother and couldn't have him.
And that's what Sam will never understand. That's why Sam will always feel guilty, and he'll never understand. Dean will always forgive, because Dean can have that now. It's what he fought for, it's what he fights for, and when Sam is there, when he is Dean's sanity and safety and assurance the eldest Winchester will do absolutely ANYTHING to keep it that way. Fight through ANY obstacle to get back there...Doesn't care where, just WITH Sam...
He keeps no memories, he keeps no reminders. He works towards that, he works for that...
Then Sam is there in a flash. Hands gripping his arms and pulling him in, towards him. And all Dean wants is to do is bury his pounding head in his chest. Sam guides it there, holding him close with a hand gently cupped behind his head. Eileen pulls Mildred away to give the brothers room to do what she obviously sees they are perfect at. Being there for one another, comforting each other, being the rock hard foundation to hold onto in the sea of pain.
As soon as he knows Sam is there Dean lets go a little. Now he's floating weightless, torn between pain and Sam, or wakefulness and darkness. DARKNESS. God, what has he gotten himself into with Amara? She is right, she CANNOT be resisted. Though technically this wasn't his fault it was Sam's, but then, they generally share the blame when it comes to apocalyptic proportions...
Sam. He can hear his voice, muffled and far away, worried, gentle and pleading.
"Come on back to me, man," he hears. Dean does his best to grasp onto the familiar voice, to go back to the man he loves so much, the boy he's absolutely devoted to.
Sam cradles his brother's head in his hands, holding it cushioned on his chest. He turns Dean's head so he can get a glimpse of his brother's striking eyes. Half shut lids, with eyes unfocused and roving over. Sam's seen it before, his brother floats somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, waiting to be called back.
"Come on back for me, big brother," he says softly. Eileen and Mildred giving them their space.
"C'mon, there's two ladies here to champion, dude." He laughs to himself softly, and watches as Dean's eyes come back into focus, staring into his face.
"Sammy?" His brother rumbles out in that sleepy sex and whiskey voice that would have knocked anyone else's socks off.
"Yeah. You good?" Sam supports him with a hand on the side of his neck and the other on his shoulder as Dean pulls himself upright.
"Ugh," Dean groans, hands holding his head, "Dude, banshees...frigging bitches..."
Sam laughs, relieved. "Up?" He questions, hands on Dean's biceps.
"Yeah." His brother grunts in answer. They rise together, once up Dean sways, but tries to brush Sam's hands from him.
"Woah slowly," Sam warns, "Dean, just give yourself a minute, okay?"
"Okay," he mumbles.
"Let's go sit over here on the couch, yeah?" Sam says, leading Dean towards the piece of furniture.
Dean follows obedient, head down, concerning Sam. He holds onto Dean's arms as he sits, all but keeping Dean from falling into the couch and busting more of his head open on the back of it. Dean's head lols a little, and Sam is quickly seated beside him pulling his head to rest against his shoulder.
Dean mumbles something into Sam's shirt he doesn't quite make out.
"What?" He asks, bending to catch a look in Dean's face, while carefully counting Dean's pulse where he has two fingers pressed against his neck. The fear of Dean on his knees dying of something Sam couldn't even see still rushing through his blood...the sound of Dean's head bashing repeatedly into the wall still pounding in his ears.
"What happened to those ladies I was supposed to champion?" Dean asks, leaning unashamedly against Sam.
Sam laughs, "I'm sure they're willing to wait, big brother." Even as he speaks Mildred brings a warm, wet wash cloth, followed by Eileen with their first aide kit. Eileen knows hunters, knows that while Dean may accept petting and help from Sam, he will be tense and macho for them. She gently pulls Mildred away and the two of them go to hunt down coffee.
Sure enough as soon as Eileen and Mildred leave Sam feels Dean relax and lean heavier on him. Sam gently takes Dean's head in both hands and lays it back on the couch. Dean complies, neck stretching for the awkward angle. Sam uses the wash cloth to gently swab away the blood, Dean hissing between his teeth.
"Sh," Sam soothes, "It'll be over in a second."
He watches Dean fist the cushion and knows it must hurt like a bitch. Sam gently prods over his brother's scalp searching for bumps, but is mostly afraid of fractures. Not that feeling would really do them much good then, but it makes him feel better Dean isn't screaming or unconscious. However, he is attempting to push Sam's hands away from his abused head weakly.
"I'm almost done," he says softly, pressing Dean's hands down to his stomach, "Just let me take care of this cut for you." He selects a small butterfly bandage from their kit and tenderly tapes the cut on Dean's head closed.
Sam smiles as Dean sighs deeply when he is finally done. He doesn't object or try to pull away when Sam pulls him back into their former position. He huffs another sigh against Sam's neck, his eyes drifting heavily.
"Go ahead to sleep, Dean," Sam tells him, "I'll watch tonight." Meaning he'd be there to wake him up every hour to torture him into answering lameass questions.
Dean tells him as much before immediately falling to sleep, with Sam chuckling over him.
Sam blinks a moment looking around the room. Bloody walls. Broken doors. His own aching back is testament to that. And here. His brother leaning awkwardly into him, Sam's arm already going numb where it's falling asleep trapped between them.
Was he really just going to roll over and die? Because his feelings were hurt Lucifer had pulled his guilt back up after he'd worked so hard to bury it deep? Was it really worth just giving up all this, and admitting defeat even before the fight just because he couldn't look his brother in the eye?
Chances are, Sam is right. They will die young, and they will die bitter, hard, humiliating deaths. And Sam had thought if he accepted this that he would accept that all the hurt he'd caused his brother wouldn't matter anymore, because they'd both be gone. Chances are they die fighting the darkness just like Sam said...but did that mean it was meaningless to make things right with his brother?
It's a constant ache in his heart, a consistent voice in his mind, even if he did shut it out. It kept him awake nights when he should sleep peacefully, it burned him when Dean smiled at him. That full, beautiful, perfect smile he gave Sam when the simple things in life ruled out the supernatural and let REAL Dean break out and sparkle a little.
Real Dean; big brother. A mama's boy. A shameless dork. Brilliant mechanic. Passionate lover. (Well, used to be) You get Sam's point, he's a really freaking awesome person.
This person meant more to him that anything else. More than Jess ever had, or Amelia, or his Stanford degree...or even his whole yearning for the apple pie life. This person meant enough to Sam for him to say "no" to saving the WHOLE ENTIRE world. He'd be damned if he spent the rest of their time on this earth wallowing in self pity and dragging Dean down with him.
Sam smiles as Dean mumbles a little in his sleep, rubbing his cheek into Sam's jacket and crossing his arms over his chest, settling in deeper.
Okay big brother, we can do this. He thinks, sighing, and settling in too for a few hours.
Eileen and Mildred find them like this, Sam gratefully accepting the cup of coffee.
"I'm just gonna let him sleep it off a little here," he says softly to Mildred, "If that's okay?"
"Oh yeah, Sam," she assures, "Please make both of you at home."
Sam laughs a little when her hand lingers on Dean's shoulder, and fondly sweeps through his hair. He's so using that later.
Sam shakes Dean as the first hour has passed. Dean shies away from him, tries to make him stop by ignoring him, but finally cracks his eyes opened.
"Hey Dean,'" Sam says as softly as he can. "Know where you are?"
"With your lame ass." Comes the grunted reply.
Sam smiles, "Last evil thing that tried to do you in?"
"Banshee bitch."
Sam chuckles, "My birthday?"
" '83, May 2," Dean pauses a second. "Aren't you technically supposed to ask me my birthdate?
"Well, it's more important to me that you know mine," Sam keeps his voice soft, as if wanting to keep what he's about to say between them, "You give the best gifts."
Dean snorts a laugh through his nose, "Bitch."
"Sleep, jerk," Sam says, laughing, and then smiling when Dean is immediately back to sleep at Sam giving him the all clear.
They pass through the night with more questions, and some groaning in Dean's sleep, cluing Sam into how badly his head hurts. Sam sits beside him the whole while, soothing him with a soft word or a reassuring touch when he gets restless. Sam also uses the time to get back to earnestly researching the darkness, operating the iPad with his free hand.
The sun is rising behind them. The rays sneaking around the large building and lighting the sky, and flirting around the clouds, outlining them with a yellow so pure it looked white. Sam feels Dean's jaw clench as he swallows against his shoulder and looks down to find him awake and blinking at the sight Sam has yet to notice.
It's Dean's intense stare that brings his gaze to it too. And wow, yeah that's beautiful, glorious. And Sam has no idea who the darkness really is. Maybe she really is the victim in this situation, but Sam is pretty sure nothing she says or does will make him want to give up our, Dean's...his world. The light...the colors, the people, their souls.
There is no way Amara in all her finesse and dark beauty could ever beat this...
"Something, hmm?" Dean asks beside him, with a sleep wrecked voice.
Sam nods.
"You know we don't get to see too many sunsets..." Dean says, and Sam listens carefully cause Dean is talking to him, holy shit!
"At least not without waiting for something to go bump in the night..." Dean shifts himself more comfortably, not bothering to raise his head from Sam's shoulder even now that he's awake. "But we always have a cold one when the sun comes up..."
Sam gets his point, they might not get the best ending...but they sure as hell make way for a lot of beautiful beginnings.
So even if they do die ganking the darkness, as long as they get her, they can leave behind a fresh start for the world, give this earth a new beginning.
As people begin to stir over the household, Sam sighs, knowing their moment is over. Their quiet night is spent up...back to work. Dean does too, sighing as an echo to his brother. He sits up and massages his temples.
"You be alright?" Sam asks, quietly.
"Yeah." Dean returns.
Sam lets Mildred fuss over Dean, and goes with Eileen to fabricate a believable tale to satisfy the staff and owners.
That done they stand waiting for Dean and Mildred to join them. Eileen looks at him in her peculiar way, that way that hints she knows more than Sam. She hands him the brochure for Oak Park Retirement Home, Sam tilts his head in question.
"Ah don' kno yo're dory," she says in her lilted, slurred way, "Bu' you dwo deswerve to 'ave a good ending."
Sam feels tears leap to his eyes, and he takes the brochure...they do, Dean does...his big brother deserves a good ending.
...
Sam hadn't always had a box. He used to keep his few treasured belongs alternately in the bottom of his duffle, wallet, and the impala. There were parts of his big brother's car that did belong to Sammy Winchester. It has to be special for Sam to put it in his little cache of precious things. He rarely adds to it, rarely do actual material things mean so much to him.
Over the years he'd kept different things, but you could spot the important ones immediately. The replica of the amulet? Dean's ring? The photos that had saved both Dean and Sam's lives...their little sliver of goodness.
And now, now he adds the magazine from the retirement home. Did he know they would reach retiring age? Did he think for one moment Dean would settle in one of those places? No. But it was his tribute, his way to say,
I have faith in us.
Together we can defeat this.
We will either go down fighting together, preferably to a Bon Jovi song, or God help us...we will grow old together.
And whether or not they would ever have families was an unthinkable hope they never entertained, or that's what they told themselves. But they knew now, more than ever, it was either the both of them or none. There was no way around it, there was no going back, not even for Sammy. And he was glad, he was happy. Sure he was tied at the hip to his brother...but the WORLD opens up wide before him with Dean by his side.
Sam was excited about what was to come. He was afraid too, but the nervous excitement hummed through his veins like back when he'd been a child. All the things they were capable of doing! Even if they ganked the darkness, and lived the rest of their lives fighting the good fight...the family business. Sam was excited about THAT!
The unobtainable distances they could reach...but only together.
Sam can see it now. His heart is bursting with it. The heights they can fly to, the things they can achieve, the people they can save...unobtainable alone, entirely reachable together.
And all the time it was his ugly failures that stood between them and this. How many years had Dean tried to show him this? How many times had his brother pleaded with him to stand by his side, to make them an unbeatable force of faith, loyalty and love?
Finally the light has dawned upon Sam's darkened mind. And it had been Lucifer who had given him the ability to see it. He didn't need Lucifer, he didn't demon blood to achieve the things he wants to. He and Dean had done much more, human, and together.
They will fight hard, they will do what is right and if they live, they will retire...together.
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