After the End
Sam watched Dean through the window. Ostensibly, he was there to check on Dean, make sure that the Apple Pie Pact had indeed been fulfilled, but really, Sam had to admit to himself that he was really here standing in the street because he missed his big brother, the brother who had always made his life about family, and more specifically, Sam. Sammy, Sammy boy... Sam was never going to hear those terms of endearment again.
But that was okay.
Or it would be, at some point.
He didn't think that his brother looked happy. Dean was only just getting by. Liquor with dinner—so healthy. Of course, if that was what got Dean through the day and through each night, so be it. Eventually, Dean's proclivity, his compulsion more appropriately, to go out and save his family would fade, because, after all, there was no one left to save. Like Sam, Dean would eventually adapt. And perhaps Lisa and Ben would fill the hole, even if in just a small part.
Sam knew it would be a kindness to them both to go to the door, knock, greet his brother, tell him that his time in Hell was brief, an instant, that he had been saved, let's hit the road, jerk.
But Sam was not going to go up to that door.
Sawed off shotguns, soul selling, monster hunting, cheap motels, salt rounds, angels, demons, toughen-up-no-chick-flick-moments when by God they needed them—everything that made up the Wincester way—Sam could put an end to it, at least for Dean. Dad would have hated this, he assumed: Dean out of "the life". But Mom, Sam thought, Mom would probably approve. This was a perfect opportunity. Dean could live now, for the very first time.
Sam had always resented in some small part that his brother was older, old enough to remember their mother. But that privilege, a year or two of memories, the privilege came at the cost of growing up at 5, 6, 7 years of age. Sam resented that Dean remembered a normal life, but that experience entailed losing the rest of it completely. Dean never went to college. Dean never tried anything beyond what their father had outlined. Sam didn't remember any nuclear familial bliss, but he had always had Dean, and who had Dean had?
Yes, their father had loved them. Sam no longer doubted this fact. But nurturing? Loving? John Winchester found no time or strength for that particular sentiment, not when there were corpses to be burned and creatures to be killed.
Dean took an admirable gulp of the liquor inside the home.
Sam closed his eyes and sent thoughts upwards. "Cas," he thought, "you said you couldn't, I know, but please take care of Dean."
Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. He was saying something to Ben, a little smile on his face that didn't really extend to his eyes, although Sam could tell that he was trying. He didn't know if Castiel, or anyone up there, had heard hin. But he hoped they had. He needed Dean to be okay, one of them to be okay.
It was Dean's turn, Sam thought, for a rest. Sam could work at saving people and hunting things—the family business—all by himself.
Sam turned away and walked toward the compact car he had driven to get there. When he passed by the Impala, he touched her hood. She would never reveal his secret. "Good bye," Sam said to her, and by extension, to Dean.
And then he was gone.
A/N: Yeah, I just wanted to explore what Sam might be thinking as he watches Dean through Lisa's window. I hope I get Kripke'd with this, but since Kripke's leaving anyway, I'm just as likely to get Joss'd. Besides, I totally ignored the blinked out street light (*bad sign*). And, you know, Adam. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the little fic.
Emily :D