Title: Don't Walk Away
Characters: Sam, Dean and John
POV: Third Person
Pairings: None
Warnings: Rated T (for language; just in case)
Notes: Pre-series
Disclaimer: As much as I hate to admit it, I do not own The Winchesters, although I so dearly wish I did. They are the products of Kripke and his writing team...(sigh) I do, however, own any and all original characters (grins)
Don't Walk Away
"I haven't forgotten anything have I?" Sam mutters into the duffle bag on his bed. He throws one last rolled up pair of old faded jeans into the green sack and straightens up, his eyes scanning the room.
"So, you're really going."
Sam turns around sharply, his gaze falling on his older brother. Dean stands in the doorway. He looks steady, but having spent everyday of his eighteen years with him, Sam knows better. He can see straight through his brother's hard outer shell and see the sadness and the loss he knows Dean is feeling. He wishes he didn't have to leave – for Dean's sake – but the hunting is not exactly how he wants to spend his life. He wants to have his chance for a semi-normal life, not to be molded into 'the good soldier' his father wants him to be. He just can't let his life be planned out for him – he isn't Dean. Dean is the good soldier. Dean is the twenty-two year old version of Dad. He doesn't want to leave Dean, but he must – for his own sake.
He nods. "Yeah," he says, his voice barely a whisper.
Dean crosses the room, sitting on the bed. "Why?"
Sam cringes inwardly. He wishes this wasn't so hard to do. If it's just Dad he's leaving, it wouldn't be so bad. But he must leave Dean, the big brother who has always been there to protect him from everything – from bullies to poltergeists.
"I can't live this life, Dean," Sam turns to face his brother. "I can't be the good soldier that Dad wants me to be. I don't want to hunt anymore. I want to have a normal life."
"You can never have a normal life, Sammy, knowing what you know," Dean speaks.
"I can at least try."
Dean studies his kid brother – he is no longer a kid, however. He is a young man who is proving he is more than capable of making his own decisions and doing his own thing. As much as Dean wishes for Sam to live his own life, he wants him to stay with him and Dad. He wants them to be together, not ump-teen states apart doing completely different things. And what about the promise he made Dad when Sam was just a baby?
'I'll be the best big brother ever,' he'd said. After Mary had died, it became: 'I'll look after him', and 'I'll protect Sammy'. How is he supposed to do that when the one he swore to protect will soon be in California, in University and making a life for himself – a better life for himself – than what Dean and Dad will be? Dean has to admit, he's proud of his brother for having the courage to defy their father, but he doesn't want him to leave. He still wants to be able to protect him, despite the rocky ground that's been between them for the past couple of years. Although he'll never come out and say it, he can't deny that he loves his bother and would do anything for him – including sacrifice his own life.
"But why walk away?" Dean asks after a moment.
Sam sits down beside his brother. "I wish I wasn't, but I can't be what Dad wants us to be."
"We need you here with us, Sam."
"No you don't, Dean. I'm not the 'good soldier' Dad wants us to be. With all due respect, that's you." He sighs and stands up, pacing the width of the room. "I can't meet Dad's standards. I'm tired of hearing him say, 'Why can't you be more like your brother?', 'Why can't you be more like Dean?'. I'm sick of it. I'm not you. I can't be someone that I'm not." He stops pacing and faces the older man. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I can't live the life Dad wants us to."
"You don't exactly have a choice," Dean says. "You know how Dad is."
"I do have a choice, Dean," Sam half-snaps. "It's my life and I don't care what Dad–"
"We've got to go, boys!"
Sam rolls his eyes.
Dean sighs.
Sam throws the duffle bag over his shoulder.
Dean doesn't get up for a moment. Instead he chooses to study his brother. "So I guess this is it."
There is nothing Sam can do to mask the fear and sadness in his hazel eyes. He nods. "Yeah; this is it."
Dean stands up and wraps Sam in a hug – the first real hug in three years. It's his silent, physical way of expressing his undying, unconditional love for his brother. "Shit, I'm going to miss you." His words are slightly choked and he tries extra hard to swallow the big lump that's formed in his throat.
Sam smiles, pulling away to see his brother's face. "I love you too, Dean."
Dean manages a watery smile. "Yeah."
"C'mon boys." The boys turn to see their father standing in the doorway. "We have to go."
Sam takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing; it's now or never. "Actually, Dad." His voice is slightly hoarse. He clears his throat. "I'm not going with you."
John blinks several times. What has his son just told him? "Excuse me?"
"I'm not going with you," Sam repeats.
John raises an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"I'm going to California," Sam replies, his voice steady. "I got a full-ride to Stanford. I'm going to College."
Dean visibly tenses as he watches John's eyes transition from confused to astonished to angry. He looks between the two men tentatively.
"No you're not, Sam." Dean can tell John is trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice anger free. "You are going with your brother and I. We have a job to do."
"You mean you have a job to do." Sam moves past John. "I can't live this way."
"In what way?" John snaps, turning around.
Dean can only watch helplessly – to get between his brother and father with tensions flaring is as close to death as you can muster without physical force.
"I want my own life," Sam's voice grows louder. "I don't want to spend every day of my life hunting down every little thing that goes bump in the night."
"You don't have a choice, Sam," John yells. "You turn your back on the hunt, you're turning your back on your mother."
"Don't bring Mom into this!"
Dean actually jumps upon hearing his brother's near-screaming voice.
"She's gone, Dad," Sam continues.
Dean cringes.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to go gallivanting over the mid-west looking for something we can't fucking find and might not ever find!"
John is practically fuming. "Don't use that tone of voice with me, boy. Mary is already into this; she's been involved since the night that son of a bitch killed her! And I will kill It if it's the last thing I ever do!"
"Then you go right ahead," Sam interjects. "You go ahead and die doing it. I, for one, am going to California to make a life for myself. If you want to spend the rest of your life crisscrossing the country for that thing and get nowhere fast, you go right ahead. But don't take me along for the ride!"
The air suddenly grows thick, and Dean feels the pressure building, pressing against his body. His heart is just about ready to pound right out of his chest and he can feel his eyes getting hot. No, he can't break down. He's twenty-two for fuck's sake – he can't cry. What will that say for the hard, solid demeanor he's so good at showing? Not to mention, Dad doesn't like tears…
"What did you just say to me?" John's voice is dangerously, frighteningly quiet.
Sam doesn't appear to flinch. "You heard me, Dad." Sam is surprised at his own steadiness, but he can feel the armour beginning to crack and rust away. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Dad." He passes Dean an apologetic look which John doesn't see for the anger, then turns, heading down the stairs.
John's blood is boiling. How the hell can Sam do this? He's turning his back on everyone, worse off, Mary. His son really knows how to piss him off. He's spent years of hard, labourious work training his sons with everything he knows and has learned about killing the Supernatural, and this is how Sam repays him? By running away from everything he's learned? By running away from his family?
"Don't walk away from me." John follows Sam down the stairs, a quiet, scared Dean behind him.
Sam stops reaching for the doorknob, eyes blazing, just short of trembling with anger. He turns around.
Dean takes a step back – the anger in his brother's eyes seems inhuman; it's down right terrifying.
"And if I do?" Sam spits. "What are you going to do about it? Huh? What are you doing to do if I walk out that door?"
John shifts his weight. "Alright. You want to leave? Fine. But don't you ever come back. If you go off to that fucking College in California, don't ever fucking come back!"
Dean can feel his bottom lip quivering. He can't break – he can't. But what is Sam going to do?
Sam sets his jaw. "Fine. You don't want me to come back? That's cool. 'Cause while you and your 'perfect soldier' of a son are crisscrossing the country going after Spirits, I will be in California, living a safe, normal, happy life."
Those words sting both John and Dean deeply.
"Then go on," John spits. "Live your normal life as best you can, because it will never be normal knowing what you know." And he walks away, storming upstairs.
Sam turns, his hand reaching for the doorknob for the second time.
Dean can't hold back any longer. He lets the tears escape onto his cheeks, breathing deeply. "Sammy…" His voice comes out choked, sobs threatening to steal it completely.
Sam freezes. He's never heard his brother call his name like that – not since they were kids and Dean was desperately trying to get him to stop doing something before he seriously hurt himself. Slowly, Sam turns and is met by his brother's wet, blood-shot, hazel eyes and tear stained cheeks.
"Sammy." Dean approaches his baby brother. "Please don't go." He sniffs. "I know you and Dad don't always see eye-to-eye, and things have been rough between you and I for the last few years, but I…" His voice cracks and he swallows. This is hard for him to say, but he has to say it. If it will get Sam to stay, he has to. "I love you, Sammy. I don't want you to go. I want us to be a family – you, me and Dad. If you leave, it won't be the same."
Sam doesn't answer for a long moment. He lets what Dean has said sink in. He's never seen his brother like this. Dean really doesn't want his baby brother to leave him behind.
"If you stay," Dean continues, "I won't ask a single thing of you again. Ever. Just don't go." He tries to blink back tears, but he's unsuccessful; three more escape his eyes – those eyes that are always so strong and steady.
Sam studies his older brother – the brother who has always been there to get him out of anything and everything he's managed to get himself into over the years – from girls to poltergeists. The man who has always been strong, unwavering and solid is faltering. He is completely vulnerable and bare… Sam can't help but let his emotions out…
"Dean…" He wraps his brother into his arms, feeling Dean's shaking shoulders. "I'm sorry. I love you too." His own voice wavers. "And I'm not leaving."
Dean withdraws and stars at Sam. Relief spills over his face and he laughs a couple of times. "You're not?"
Sam smiles and shakes his head. "No. I'm staying right here."
Dean nearly keels over in relief. He looks up at Sam, the famous Dean Winchester half-smirk on his lips. "You do that again and I'll kill you, you hear?"
Sam laughs. It does him good to hear Dean's sarcasm again, but hopes to see more of the open Dean in the future. He rather likes seeing it – it reminds him that he's human too. "Alright." He raises a finger, pointing at Dean. "And don't you ask a single thing of me ever again."
Dean furrows his eyebrows for a moment, not sure of what Sam is talking about. He laughs when he remembers what he had said. "Alright." He extends his hand. "Deal."
Sam shakes his brother's hand.
Dean straightens up. "Now let's get our stuff and get in the car before Dad has another hissy fit."
Sam chuckles. "Alright." He moves and starts up the stairs.
"And Sam."
Sam turns on the stairs to face his brother, whose face is now serious.
"I meant what I said. Every bit of it."
Sam smiles. "I know you did, Dean." He gives Dean a nod, then continues up the stairs to prepare for the hunt.
Fin