Disclaimer: I used to own supernatural, the boys, the Impala and everything else on the show. But then, the men in white gave me my meds and I had to take them.
Summary: Sam has a nightmare which makes him realize what he has been missing for a year. Spoilers upto 6x03.
A/N: Tag to 6x02.
He is sure this is hell. Why else would he be tied to a rack, bleeding? Yeah, this has got to be hell. Not the one he went to with Lucifer, but where Dean was. Where every black-eyed bastard wants a piece of you. He tries to shout out, but realizes he can't feel his tongue and his throat is filling up with blood. Something in shadows responds to his soundless scream.
"Sorry about the tongue." It's Dean. "But your whining was getting annoying."
What is he doing here? He is not supposed to be here. He is supposed to be safe with Lisa.
"You put me here, remember." Dean answers his unasked question. "You put me here when you decided to exile me from my life. Leave me unprotected out there. When you got them killed."
As Dean starts slicing him open, he sees two bodies lying in the corner. Lisa and Ben's vacant eyes stare up at him. No, this can't be happening. They were supposed to be Dean's happily ever after.
"There are no happily ever-afters for the Winchesters. Those things were looking for you and when they couldn't find you, they went for the next best option."
What things? Who did this to them? He didn't mean for this to happen. Sam's eyes are begging for forgiveness from Dean.
"Too little too late, little brother." Dean points at the growing red stain in front of his shirt."You took everything that mattered in my life away from me. I loved you, gave you everything and this is how you repay me. I hate you and now I've got an eternity to show you just how much."
Sam closes his eyes, turning away from the pain and betrayal evident on Dean's face and when he opens his eyes, he is not in hell any more. He is in a field- no this is someone's backyard. People are milling around, socializing. He knows these people. There are mom and dad, holding hands, talking to Pastor Jim and Bobby and his wife. Jo and Ellen are on the swings. Adam is there with a woman he remembers seeing in the pictures around the house. The whole Campbell bunch, including grandpa and grandma are by the grill. Jess is standing with Sarah and Ruby, waving to him. Madison seems preoccupied with her steak. Everyone is here, even the angels. This is heaven. Sam's eyes wander around looking for Dean. Where is he? He has to be here. Heaven can't be complete without Dean there.
He wanders around asking people if they've seen Dean and all he gets are blank looks in return. Finally, its Ruby who answers him.
"He is in hell, silly. You left him there, remember. Like always."
No, that can't be true. He wouldn't leave Dean. Not again. He promised himself. He'd never betray Dean's trust again. He'd never hurt Dean like that.
"What are you going on about?" Jess says."You don't want him here. You told him that, remember. He'll just ruin everything."
Yeah, that used to be true, but not anymore. He was going to make up to Dean for that disastrous heavenly sojourn. He can't let Dean go before he has made up for it. And now he is running through the woods, looking for Dean. And then through some town. And then a city that seems completely devoid of life. Except for his posse, that is. They seem to show up wherever he goes, smiling and laughing and making merry.
He ends up on a beach and that's where he spots it. Him. Blonde head bowed down, digging in the sand. Sam rushes to him, ignoring the tittering and laughing that had started up behind him.
"What are you doing here, Sam?" Dean asks as Sam reaches him. "You are not supposed to be here."
"But, this is heaven Dean. We are supposed to be here together."
"This is your heaven Sam. If you are here, it means this is my hell."
Sam looks blankly at him as he continues, "You are poison, Sammy. You ruined my life just like you ruined that of everyone around you. I don't want you spoiling my heaven. Go away."
Sam barely had time to process the hurt those words brought, when more voices assail his ears. Murmurings of "He's right", "You killed us all", "You are evil", "You should have died" make him turn around and see everyone looking at him with hostility. They all have knives with them. They all advance on Sam like a surreal play of Shakespeare and start stabbing him. Falling down, unable to defend himself, Sam cries out for the one person who'd never let him down. And he doesn't. With a shout of "Don't hurt my brother", Dean jumps in the fray. And suddenly Sam is in his seven year old body again, with Dean completely shielding him, unheedfull of the knives that sink in his back.
"Why are protecting him?" A voice from somewhere above says, "He'll just betray you again."
"No, he won't" Dean answers, "He's my brother." But Dean's voice is cut-off as Sam sees a knife sticking out of his neck, his own hand at the hilt. And then there is that look again. The look of pain and confusion and betrayal that just asks one question – Why?
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, Sam tries to say. I'm sorry.
Sam woke up with a start. His shirt was drenched in sweat. His heart was racing and the state of his bed spoke of the discomfort of the night. Gwen was sleeping in the other make-shift bed. Samuel and Christian were standing by the window, keeping watch. Thank goodness, none of them had noticed his nightmare. This was one of the worse ones. He almost missed the times his nightmares just had girls burning on ceilings.
It wouldn't have gone unnoticed if Dean was here, Sam realized. Hell, it wouldn't have become this bad. If Dean was vigilante, he'd notice the very beginnings of the nightmare and sit by his side, Sam's subconscious reaching out to his comforting presence and turning to a more pleasant direction. If Dean awoke in the later stages, he'd stages, he'd wake Sam up. Not with worried looks and concern that the Campbells used on rare occasion, which made Sam feel patronized, but a pillow to the face and a shout of "Go have your sex dreams somewhere else". Even though he could discard most of his nightmare as ramblings of a disturbed psyche, two things stood out the most. No matter how badly he screwed-up, Dean would always forgive him and Dean would always protect him, even at the cost of everything else in his life.
Drinking beer, sitting on the hood of the car seemed wrong without Dean by his side. The whole idea of hunting without Dean seemed wrong. He hadn't been lying when he said that things were different with Dean around. Hunting – no life without Dean seemed just less. Less everything. Less important, less exciting, less dangerous, less fun.
Dean was different than any other hunter Sam had ever known. Hunters were a very similar breed. They were all stoic, tough-as-nails men whose only sense of humor consisted of sarcastic, biting remarks and a laugh that never reached their eyes. Every experienced hunter he'd met, even dad and Bobby, had one trait in common. They were all miserable. They lived in their misery, held on to it, fed on it. But however miserable life seemed to try to make Dean, he could always find a reason to laugh. And try as he might, Sam couldn't emulate that trait of Dean's, not with Dean not around. Sam knew that he was becoming – had become like all the other hunters. Men who just survived from day-to-day, for the next hunt because they had nothing else in life. But Dean- he didn't just survive the hunt, he lived for it. Sam had always thought that Dean was too weak to walk away from this life, but he knew now that it wasn't true. For all the evidence saying that Dean hunting was forced on Dean, Sam knew that his brother had actually chosen this life.
That could be the only explanation of why Dean was different. Where others saw work, Dean saw a mission. Where they saw lies and cover-ups, Dean saw ingenuity and the greater ingenuity he'd require to unmask it. Where they saw death and destruction, Dean saw an opportunity to do good. Where they saw potential victims, Dean saw potential lives to save. Unlike others, Dean did not hunt out of vengeance or family honor or a misplaced sense of duty. Dean hunted because it was the right thing to do. Maybe that was why Dean had never lost sight of what was important and what was right.
When you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Every hunter realizes this on a much personal level. With all the darkness they face every day, they begin to lose their humanity little by little. They don't become monsters. It's just, they always lose sight of what they were doing it for. They lose their appreciation for the finer qualities of life, things to live for, until they are nothing more than zombies, doing what they do for no other reason than that being the only thing in their life. Every hunter Sam had met had fallen in that category. From the revenge-obsessed Gordon to his surly father-figure Bobby. Sam did not know a single hunter who was capable of a moment's joy- not satisfaction at the job well done, but simply being happy at being alive and doing good work. Except Dean, that is. Over the years Dean had had many moments where he was truly happy, even when he had no reason to be. He had always tried to share these times with Sam, sometimes succeeding, but mostly rebuffed for his childish immaturity. Somehow, somewhere, Dean had held onto to his last bit of innocence and that allowed him to stare unflinchingly at the abyss.
Over the past year Sam had tried to recreate Dean in his mind. Unsuccessfully, because no one around him appreciated his efforts, much like he hadn't appreciated Dean during their time together. His "Adios, Casper" while lighting up a grave had earned him weird looks. Any funny remarks comparing recent deaths to a Halloween movie fell flat. His comments to a victim's mother got him rebuked for being unprofessional. And when he'd stood up to one of the greater Gods on a hunt, Samuel had chided him for being foolish and reckless. And when he'd tried hitting on girls during a case, he was told that there were easier and faster ways of scratching an itch that didn't include wasting the evening. In a way, the attack of the djinns had been a blessing in disguise.
Sam still remembered his nightmare when he'd been doped up on djinn juice. It went pretty much the same way most of his nightmares went these days. He'd arrived to save Dean a bit too late. Dean had once again lost everything due to his brother's secrets. And Dean died in his arms exclaiming his undying hatred for his brother. But it's made Sam realize that he was wrong. That Dean wasn't just some civilian to be protected but his brother who should be by his side. That it had been Sam's secrets and lies that had made Dean's life miserable, not hunting. So he'd run to his brother, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late to earn his forgiveness once again. Because without Dean by his side, all of it just wasn't worth it.
"There you are." Christian's voice startled Sam out of his reverie. "You've been sitting here with that empty bottle for atleast half an hour. Here, got you a new one."
Sam accepted the beer with muttered thanks, but did nothing else to start up a conversation. Chris wouldn't want to talk right now, would he? He'd just lost his cousin. Granted Sam hardly knew the guy, so he felt little regret for the loss, but Christian had lost a lifelong member of the family, he had to be grieving. Sam remembered how much Dean grieved over the deaths of each of their friends. But then again, the Campbells didn't strike him as the grieving type.
"Samuel found a case. Cop liquefied on the locker room floor."
"Fell apart under the stress of the job?" Sam tried. Nothing.
"Anyway, I guess we can head out after lunch. It's not far from here"
"Sure."
Conversation lapsed into silence for a while.
"Sam, what's the deal with your brother? Why is he such a dick?"
"Excuse me?" Sam stiffened. He didn't want to go there. Not with Christian.
"I mean, the way you talked about him, he seemed like the greatest thing since sliced bread." Christian went on, oblivious to Sam. "But you know, having met him, I guess I can see it now."
"See what?"
"See why you ditched him. I mean he is brash and reckless. He must be always getting himself in trouble. Add to that he doesn't trust anyone, not even family. He's rude to his betters and he's arrogant and bossy to boot. I get that he's your brother, but hunting with him must have been a slice of hell."
Well, I don't remember you giving him a chance, Sam thought hotly. You insult his hunting the first time you meet him, make fun of the life he'd built himself and tell him he is selfish for living his life. Like you did, a voice in his head said. With a cringe he remembered his own mocking comments on Dean's choice of sport. Sam didn't realize how close his hand was to crushing the bottle, when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the display. It was Dean.
Sam was hurriedly packing his meager belongings in the duffel when Christian came to the door.
"So, you brother's back in the game?" He said. "Finally seen the error of his ways?"
"Shut up, Chris." Sam retorted.
"You heading out already?"
"Yeah. This way I can scope the place out a bit before Dean gets there." And this way Dean doesn't have to meet you guys again.
"You sure this is a good idea? Hunting with just Dean, I mean. I could come with, y'know."
"You and Dean on the same case? You'll kill each-other before this thing gets a chance."
"Or maybe," Christian went on, "you and I can take this one. It sounds like a tough one and Dean's just coming out of retirement. You know, we could team up on this and when Dean gets here, Samuel would throw him an easy one to cut his teeth into. Maybe a salt and burn. He'd even send Gwen as backup if it makes you feel better."
"I'm sure Dean would appreciate your concern." Oh yes, Dean would love to show you his appreciation. "But we'll be fine. With only one death on record, there is no pattern, so we'll be going by the gut on this one. Trust me, Dean is a pro when it comes to these kinds of cases."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Christian remarked. "It does sound like witches. Who else can better understand them than someone who's been on the trip to down under?"
Christian never sees Sam move and the next moment he's lying on the floor clutching his throbbing jaw.
"Don't you ever talk about my brother and his time in hell again." Sam said angrily. "You understand?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sam picked up his duffel and walked out of the door. He was sure he'd be receiving a call from Samuel later, lecturing him about family values and fighting amongst themselves. But he didn't care. His real family was coming back to him.
There, I did it again. Once again I wrote the Sam-that-was while trying to write the Sam-that-is. It's so darn difficult to write this new cold Sam showing emotion that all that keeps coming out is season 2 Sammy. I hope I'll finally get it right in my next one.