Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine. Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki are not mine. I cry incredibly as I type these words. My shrink and I are working on my issues.
Warnings: Some words.
Rating: PG-13
Too Little, Too Late
Chapter 1: So Far Gone?
He had every intention of walking away.
If his brother wanted to be stoic and stony and so damn stubborn, then fine. He'll let him fester in his little snit fit. Damned if he'll push anymore.
He walked a few more steps.
Why couldn't he get it? Sam wondered. Why can't he realize that I'm here? Why the hell can't I be good enough? Why can't he trust me enough to feel? Just goddamn feel!
The words he had said to his brother were calm. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the tears from his eyes or his voice. But he could keep the anger, and he could keep the hurt from blaring through. Anger at his father, at Dean, at himself. Anger that his father was dead, that he couldn't stay, that he couldn't stay alive for him to make things right. Anger at Dean for not trying harder, for not forcing them together, for not being able to make him see. Anger at himself for being so damn childish, for picking that fight, for never having the chance to say he was sorry.
"Now that he's dead, now you wanna make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't…it's too little too late!"
Damn you, Dad. And damn you, Dean.
"I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late."
The hurt was there. But he wasn't quite sure where it came from.
"I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all. But neither are you. That much I know."
The sound of shattering glass broke through tortured thoughts and had him spinning around as memories of the sounds of twisting metal and exploding glass echoed through his mind. He stood still, unable to move, to breath before he sprinted across the dusty ground faster than he'd thought he could run. Fear for his brother clutched at his heart, constricted his lungs.
He arrived there in mere seconds. The silence after that first explosion forcing him all that much faster. What he saw when he finally made it, made him stop dead and just stare.
He saw his brother. Swinging a crow bar so violently, so furiously, that for the first time in his life—he feared his brother. There was panic at the darkness, the brutality that so rarely made it past a stony façade or a smartass retort.
He could do nothing but just stand there. Silent and stunned. One savage blow became two then three then more. The quiet gasps for air and the tight moans gained more in intensity, the swings became more vicious.
Sam wondered what his brother saw every time the crow bar bit into the Impala's trunk. He wondered what it could possibly that deserved, that drew out so much fury. He wanted to run over and stop him but feared that his body would take the place of the mangled metal. Would Dean see him, or would he see something else…would he stop at the first cry of pain or would he just keep hitting until he couldn't hit anymore? Until there was nothing of either of them to give up.
Thirteen.
Gasp.
Moan.
Tears flooded Sam's moss green eyes.
Fourteen.
Gasp.
Moan.
He blinked when his brother's rigid body became a blurry silhouette. He had to see. He couldn't not. If he couldn't see Dean, did that mean that he'd lost him?
Fifteen.
Gasp.
Moan.
One tear split over and burned a path before fading. What did that mean? A part of his soul disappearing and burning into nothingness?
Sixteen.
Gasp.
Moan.
Another made its way slowly down his face, before disappearing in sand. Was that how it would end? In a daunting, terribly slow journey before being buried, forgotten and unseen?
Seventeen.
Gasp.
Moan.
Clang.
God. Dean. How could they fix this?
For the second after the crow bar crashed the ground, Dean just seemed to collapse into himself, bracing his arms on the edge slumped over as he stared at the large hole he had created in the trunk. Then he turned his back to Sam, still staring down then he looked up.
Sam knew his brother was looking in his direction. But he also knew that Dean was looking through him. A look of total and complete heartbreak on his face.
His brother couldn't see him.
Were they that far gone? Had that much changed?
He could always count on Dean to be there, to just see him even if he was miles away. But here he was. Not even twenty feet away and Dean couldn't see him.
Oh God. He was losing everything.
But more than that, he was losing Dean.
To be continued…
I hope you enjoyed the story. I'm planning at least two chapters of this. Real life permitting, hopefully I can have it finished by the weekend. Between classes and drama—stage as well as RL—I'm going to do my best.
Please review. Constructive criticism welcome, but please no flames. Thank you!