Dean by name.
Sam never had a name for his brother, because Dean was just too awesome...
Warning: character deaths, but in a nice way... I think...
Sam's always known what Dean is.
Has always known.
His big brother, protector...
Dean is a warrior, fearless, nothing holds him back from his journey. He is accepting, takes it to heart, because hunting defines him.
But what becomes of the hunter not born to it? And not even very good at it? Or so Sam's been led to think, of himself.
Sam's not sure, 'cos the only reason he's hunting now is for vengeance and no one ever really told him there was a better reason. He's got his Dad to go on, for starters and, after that, he's got his big brother selling his soul to some evil demon bitch in order to bring him back from the dead...
What the hell was he supposed to feel?
Sam knows this is selfish, even superficial. It's what led him away from his family in the first place, what told him he had a right to search out his own way... and even now, in many ways; he still feels he was right.
He needed that time away. Needed that space, no matter how hard it was,
to find out who he is.
No matter how guilty it makes him feel.
'Cos that awakening led to Jess... up in flames... just like his mom...
No matter how hard it was... being apart from Dean.
But he also knows how close it is to the truth.
How fucking easy it is to give your soul for that one person,
Because that's why the Winchester's were selected.
Like a Special Forces unit.
And the rest of humanity?
Most humans wouldn't have given their souls for the one they loved.
Many would say it, but never really mean it.
Though the more self-righteous, bible-bashers would like to think so.
And they're just lying to themselves.
But the Winchesters never had a choice right from the start.
But Sam still carries on, hoping it's not too late for him and, yet knowing, that's another lost prayer God will not listen to.
Because Sam is forsaken, through his own deeds.
Sam, on his knees, just stares up at the sun, every morning and every evening, even though he's forgotten what those prayers mean...
&
Years have passed by, and Sam doesn't stop praying for forgiveness, but maybe he's asking for the wrong thing.
His brother died a long time ago, during a violent hunt, just the way he wanted to go, and Sam never really got to thank him... or tell him...
Sam's just too old now, too long in the tooth... so why does it still hurt? All these years later?
"Whatever it takes... to earn your forgiveness... it's my turn now... to pay..."
He says it over and over, on his aching old knees. And it's probably still wrong, 'cos everything Sam Winchester does is wrong.
He's in the Church at Blue Earth, the pastor there doesn't have a clue who he is, has no idea who Jim Murphy once was, 'cos that was eighty odd years ago, and maybe suggests Sam should take an ambulance to the ER, 'cos the chest pains are getting too much, and his arm hurts...
Its weeks later, when Sam has given all he can, asked for all the forgiveness he doesn't feel he deserves, that, finally, he hears an answer...
A low voice, one so familiar he recalls from the crib.
"We already paid too much, little brother." That wide, cocky grin beckons him. Faded jeans and a scruffy leather jacket meets his watery old gaze, the smell of old spice and gun oil makes him breathe deeply... one last time. "Why you still punishing yourself for something we're all guilty of, something we had no real say in?"
... but it's the love, and the wide open arms that signal safety and forgiveness, and home... and, most important of all...
I gotcha, little bro. Time to come home with me.
He rises up on shaky old legs, but it's his young body that collapses gratefully into his big brother's arms.
Sam goes home. And this time, he never wants to leave.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"Ok, call it."
"Time of death 10:41am."
There's the usual respectful platitudes that follows a death. They don't last, however 'cos you can't work in that environment for long without a sense of humour.
But respect still reigns...
"Shame, really. He was a little weird and all, but he was a nice old guy."
"It comes to us all. Only thing you can count on in life, is death..." a soft, rumble of laughter sounds a second later, and the blue eyed doctor gazes down at the body of the former Sam Winchester. "but not taxes."
He leaves, and shrugs his lab coat aside, revealing the grimy trench coat.
Would never have pushed you out, Sam. We all had our part to play, and none of us were perfect.
Welcome home, my son.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Yeah, I know. Kind of Sad, but not really.
Sorry guys... couldn't resist it...