Takes place after Heaven and Hell [4x10]. One-shot. After I wrote it I realized it's kind of a tag. Reviews are like chocolate!
Chapter 1:
Sam and Dean sat in the bar, nursing beers after their long day. Long day. Ha. More like a long year. A long life. Never seemed to end. Always more thrown at them, more they had to deal with. If it wasn't one thing, it was another; that's the conclusion they'd come to.
"I'm heading back," Dean said abruptly, sliding off the barstool and taking out his wallet to put some money on the counter. The money was quickly swiped up by the barkeep and Sam's head turned to his brother.
"Already?" he asked, surprised. "We've been here like half an hour. Plus you don't have a woman on each arm yet."
"Smartass," Dean muttered. "I'm tired. Fighting Heaven and Hell will do that to you, you know. See you back at the motel," he said, tucking his wallet away in his jacket and making his way to the door.
Sam watched after him for a few seconds before he turned back to his beer, turning it slowly in his hands. God, his life was usually stressful and complicated, the hunter's life, but this was a whole new deal. They weren't just fighting a spirit or a demon or something. This wasn't something they could track, hunt, kill, and that was that. This wasn't even just a seemingly never-ending war against demons. This was so much more. This was trying to figure out what side you're on, and then realizing that you're on your own side. Realizing that there are two definitive sides, Heaven and Hell, and that you're really fighting against both.
With a sigh, Sam put down some money on the counter and left his half-finished beer, wandering over to the pool tables where two guys were finishing up a game. "Hey, mind if I grab a cue?" Sam asked.
"Knock yourself out," the local replied. "You can play winner."
Sam played pool for the next fifteen minutes. He didn't hustle, he didn't try to get the money that he and Dean always needed more of. He just had some fun and won twenty bucks. Fifteen minutes later, Sam was handed a twenty dollar bill, which he stuffed in his jean pocket, declined a second game, and shrugged into his jacket, walking out the door, holding it for a young woman who brushed past him. Sam heard her slightly buzzed voice vaguely mutter, "What do you know? Chivalry isn't dead."
Making his way down the sidewalk as the woman turned to walk down the alley next to the bar, Sam hesitated as his eyes trailed after him, within milliseconds predicting the route she was taking, and spotting the three young, grungy men hanging out near the dumpster. His eyes narrowed, shifting his stance slightly more in her direction as she passed the three men and they started after her.
Narrowing his eyes further, his long legs took him easily and quickly down the alley as one of the young men called out to her. "Hey, chica! Why so lonely?"
The young woman, who seemed just buzzed enough to be considered buzzed, glanced back at the men with disinterest, continuing her slightly unsteady walk down the alley to the street at the other end. "Maybe you need a man to help you cheer up," another spoke as they neared her. The third jogged past her, cutting off her path, a deviously sugar-sweet expression on his face.
Sam saw the young woman look from one face to another of the young men in front of her with mild disinterest. "Get the hell out of my way," she snapped.
"Oh-ho-ho, she's feisty," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulder. "You sure you don't need some lovin'?"
Sam stayed in the shadows, just far away enough to not be noticed, his eyes glaring daggers at the men and his fists clenching at his sides, ready to defend the young woman.
"No," the woman spoke up softly, just barely loud enough for Sam to hear. She turned her head toward the man with his arm around her shoulder. "No, I've gotten plenty of lovin'. Enough to get me pregnant," she snapped. "So how about this?" She shoved the arm off of her shoulders, staring at the young man, who was caught slightly off-guard. "You do whatever it is you do…so hard to me, that it kills the thing growing inside me," she sobbed. "You do it before I do."
The young man who was now staring at her with wide, disturbed eyes, shook his head slowly. "Man, lady, you are whacked. Let's beat it, guys," he muttered, backing down the alley toward the street ahead of them. "Bitch totally ain't worth it. Probably got ten different STD's." The three young men turned, going down the alley to the street.
"Fine!" she screamed after him. "Fine! I don't need you! I don't need anyone!" At that, the young woman collapsed into sobs, leaning against the alley's brick wall and slowly sliding down to the ground.
Staring wide-eyed at the woman, Sam slowly moved from the shadows toward her. "Hey. Can I…help you out?" he asked quietly.
Between sobs, the young woman looked up to Sam. As he took a good look at her, he saw that she appeared to be maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. She had long brown hair, slightly frizzy, pulled back by a loose scrunchie. Glancing down to her stomach, Sam couldn't tell if she was pregnant enough to be showing yet, or even if she was pregnant, but he approached her carefully, kneeling by her side.
"Help me out," the woman repeated with a darkly amused smile. "Yea. You can bring my husband back from the dead. That's what you can do." She managed to keep her smile up for a full two seconds before she started sobbing again. "He's gone. He's gone…and he's never coming back. And I'm all alone. And I've…I've got to get an abortion. I just have to. I mean that wasn't the plan, we were going to do this together, that was the plan but—."
"Hey, hey, hey," Sam soothed her, cutting off her increasingly hysterical ranting. "Just breathe, okay? Can I…?" He motioned with his hand, which was halfway to her shoulder, and she stared at it for a few seconds before nodding slowly. Sam shifted his position on the ground so he was seated next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, slowly drifting it to the back of her neck and rubbing it gently to get her to calm down. "Just breathe." She did as she was told, hunched over, staring at her hands. "My name's Sam. What's your name?"
"Janet," she whispered. "Janet…Whethers. That was his surname. Brian. God I loved him so much. I…always have. We had this huge plan, we had everything all set and…. How come he had to leave me? How could he leave me?"
Sam felt a lump forming in his throat and he swallowed hard, forcing it down. "I don't know," he murmured. "It isn't fair."
"I'd just told him I was pregnant," she said with a reminiscent smile. "He was so happy. He told me what he wanted to name it. Brenda for a girl, Braydon for a boy. He's always liked those names."
"Which do you like?" Sam asked quietly.
"I thought maybe Nina. Nina's nice. Or if it's a boy, Parker."
"You think maybe you'll go with Brian's choices now?" Sam whispered.
Janet closed her eyes, letting her forehead fall into her hands. "No. No, no, no, I can't do this without him. I don't have anyone. I can't do this. I can't," she sobbed.
"You really want to get an abortion?" Sam asked. "After everything you went through with Brian? After all you two accomplished? You want to just give up? You can't…you can't just pretend it hasn't all happened. You need to keep going. For his sake. He would want his son or daughter to grow up. He'd want you to be happy. He wouldn't want you to give up. This is the last link you've got to him. Do you really want to let it go?"
Janet choked out a sob. "I don't…know. I…."
"Brian would want you to keep moving forward," Sam whispered, continuing to rub her back. "He wouldn't want you doing something…drastic…because he's gone. You can keep going…on your own. I know it seems like you can't…." Sam swallowed hard again past the hitch in his throat, staring at the dirty pavement ground, blinking back tears in his eyes as he tried to talk sense into this woman. Tried to talk sense into himself four months ago.
"Giving up on something you wanted so badly would be a mistake. You can keep going without him. I know you can. Doing something so extreme will be a mistake. You'll realize it. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not next week, but it'll hit you that you did…exactly what he would not have wanted…. And you'll regret it forever. You'll look at yourself in the mirror…and hate what you see…because a few months from now you'll be a shadow of your former self, just desperate to get the pain to stop, to feel nothing. And it won't. And you won't have anything to make it better. Dean won't be there to make it better."
Wiping her tears from her eyes and looking up at Sam, she sniffled. "What'd you say?"
Sam blinked a few times, realizing he was crying as well, and removed his hand from her back, quickly wiping away his tears. "Ah…. What?"
"You said…Dean. Who's Dean?" she whispered.
Sam gnashed his teeth together and took in and let out a deep breath, folding his hands in his lap. "He's my brother. It's…complicated. I thought he was…gone forever. And I…fell apart. Self-destructed without him. And then…he came back. And he was so disappointed…so ashamed at what I'd become and I just…."
Sniffling again, Janet leaned over and took Sam in a tight embrace. Slightly stunned at first, Sam eventually leaned into it, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks and he hugged her back. He let out a long breath, choked with a sob, and breathed in again to let out another shaky breath. The two strangers held each other for about a minute, just appreciating the human contact, the warmth of another body comforting them, before Janet slowly slipped out of his arms, wiping her face with her sleeve, and Sam did the same.
Janet curled the ends of the arms of her shirt around her fists absently, staring into Sam's eyes silently. Sam stared back. They held the gaze for a few long moments before Janet spoke. "You're a good man," she whispered. "A good person. I'm sure your brother still loves you. I'm sure he even loves the person you've become, despite all you think." She let out a cracked, tight smile. "Thank you, Sam," she breathed. At that, she stood up, slowly walking down the alley, and went into the apartment across the street.
Sam stared after her for a few seconds, then fell back against the brick wall, dragging his hand over his face, pushing away the remnants of tears. He took a few breaths before he pushed himself to his feet, dusted himself off, and started back to the motel.
Five minutes later, he unlocked and opened the door, seeing Dean lying on the bed flipping through TV channels. He automatically locked the door, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside.
Dean put the TV on mute. "Dude, what's wrong?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Sam.
Sam let out a sigh as he slowly sat on his bed, turning to Dean and smiling. "Nothing," he said.
"Nothing," Dean repeated. "You spent an extra half hour at the bar, come back lookin' like you were just on Oprah and it's nothing? I mean spare me the lovey-dovey crap, but we didn't get a phone call or something, right? Nobody…died? Got…mauled? Dismembered?"
Sam managed to cough out a laugh. "No, Dean." He looked up to his brother. "No, everyone's okay."
Dean stared at his younger brother for a few seconds before letting out a sigh of defeat. "Alright," he replied. He turned the volume back on. "Check it out. Lewis Black. Dude's hilarious."
Sam looked to the TV and smiled at the comedian, then looked back to his brother. He stared at him, looking away just before Dean would have looked at him to ask him why the hell he was staring, and went for the bathroom to take a shower.