A/N: Hello... I posted this in the middle of the night yesterday... I had a rough day and I failed a test, so I couldn't sleep last night. And so here is what I've been doing...
This will be a two chapter story. The second chapter will have the hot stuff, don't worry. Mary will not be aware of what the boys have, sorry if that's what you wanted... Anyway, hope you enjoy, please tell me if you want the second chapter...
Thank you all, for all your support, comments, subscriptions, and for spending your time reading this... :-) A/N:
FULL SUMMARY!
This will be a two chapter story, if you want to read it!
Heaven, is but a place on Earth: Chapter 1
Is this Hell, or Heaven?
Blood. Pain. Torture. Hallucinations.
That was it, it had to be. This was yet, another hallucination, another trick Sam's mind was playing on him, because of whatever drug Toni had given him. Drug, spell, whatever it was. Because this couldn't be real, no, anything but this. Sam flicked his eyes around the room for what could have been the hundredth time since they had come back. And yet, nothing seemed to have changed. There were no tiny fractures on the wall, no black spots on the floor, no fiery cracks on the table. So, as it would seem, Toni had cast a very powerful spell on him...
A voice, a sweet, caring voice reached Sam's ears, and the young Winchester tore his gaze from the table and let it travel towards the direction from which the voice had echoed. And there she was,with her blond hair falling delicately on her shoulders, with her well trained hands resting on the table, with her long legs crossed... "Honey?" She spoke, and Sam's eyes spotted her lips, thin and well shaped. "Honey, are you alright?" As those words were spoken, Sam gasped, for the woman's astonishing blue eyes were fixed on his. The blue of the sky was their color, and in them, existed such a tremendous amount of love, that Sam was sure he could drown in it.
"Um... Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just..." Here, Sam's fragile voice fainted, and he found himself darting his head to the side. He needed to wake up from this fever dream, and the plain wall would definitely do the trick. There had to be some way to get out of there... But, instead of the plain wall of the bunker, which Sam expected to see, his hazel eyes met emerald ones, filled with happiness and love. And Sam knew, to whom those eyes belonged to... To whom that smile belonged to... To whom that face belonged to... "I just, got lost inside my head, that's all." The young man managed to answer as he hid both of his hands under the table.
This couldn't be, no, not even Toni's spell could create such a perfect moment. Which meant he was dead. Again. Yes, that must be it, Toni had at last killed him, and he was in the Cage, with Lucifer and with Michel. So all this, the bunker, the all too familiar table, the food, the beer, and above all, those two... Figures, were nothing more, than a perfect handiwork of Satan, his best torture yet. There was no other explanation about this, Sam was sure of it. Because the woman, this woman, which was smiling at him, a smile so true and loving, had died, thirty-three years ago. This woman... was destined to die, from the moment she had been born. She was destined to burn, six months after Sam was born.
And yet, there she was, sitting on the other side of the table, eating, talking, breathing... This woman... "Mom..." Sam muttered to himself, eyes blurring. "Yes, sweetheart?" Came Mary's answer and Sam lifted his gaze once again while pressing the thumb of his left hand to the old scar on his right palm, a scar which he had recreated the previous day with a sharp piece of a broken mirror. Sam had been careful, he had made the cut at the exact same spot as the one which could still be seen, the one he carried for more than four years now. "Um, nothing, it's nothing." Sam whispered when the image of his mother didn't flicker.
Sam let out a long, silent sigh, and kept pressing the scar, applying more pressure every time his mother, or well, a perfect replica of her, would turn her gaze on the other figure, which was sitting next to Sam. The younger Winchester let his eyes wonder once more, let them take in the broad shoulders, the long, gun callused hands, the muscular chest, the lean waist, the well shaped thighs, the legs which were stretched... This was the body which Sam knew so very well...
He knew every corner, every sensitive spot, every bruise, every scar on that rough skin... He knew the taste of those thin lips, God he shouldn't, but he did, and he loved it. The heat of this body, every time it would hover over him, he knew the tenderness of those long hands, whenever they would caress his naked skin. He knew the roughness, of those fingers whenever they would run through his brown locks, roughness, which would strangely, turn into gentleness, whenever those same fingers, would be circling his rim... He knew the smell of the sweat this body would produce, as it was be moving inside of him...
This body belonged to his brother, his best friend, his lover, his soulmate... This body belonged to Dean, but Dean was dead, he had blown himself up, in order for the world to be saved. He had blown himself up, to clean up Sam's own mess, thus Billie had taken his soul, for good this time. 'No second chances...' her cold voice echoed in Sam's mind as if the words were spoken right at that second. 'I will toss you into the Empty, and nothing, comes back from that...' So, no, that Dean next to him, couldn't be real. The real Dean, his, Dean, was dead, and his soul, his wonderful soul, was in some dark, cold place, beyond Heaven and Hell, far away from Purgatory. And Sam could imagine it, shining, bright and white, with a light clearer than the one of the sun, one lonely star, surrounded by utter and complete darkness.
"Give it to me." The words, spoken calmly, with a low, soft tone, brought Sam back, to the present. Or, according to him, back to what could be Heaven, but was Hell. "What?" he muttered, swallowing hard to clear his voice. "I said, give it to me." Sam's hazel eyes moved, clouded and weary, towards Dean, who was holding out his hand. "Give you what?" Sam questioned, with a look of utter confusion painted over his frowned face. "Your hand, the one you cut, let me see it." Dean said, raising his other hand towards his mother, to prevent her from speaking up. Mary remained silent, her eyes fixed on her boys.
Reluctantly, the young Winchester did as he was told, stretching out his right hand, which Dean grabbed in a swift move, pressing all his fingers, save his thumb, on the wounded flesh of his brother's palm, just like he had done five years ago, when he was trying to convince Sam that he was real. As the intense pain hit him, Sam squirmed and got off his chair, pushing it backwards. "What the hell are you doing-" But Sam's voice was covered by Mary's shout. "Dean what, why are you hurting him?" She asked, voice rising. Sam's hazel eyes were instantly fixed on her, but Dean wouldn't have that.
Getting up from his chair while pressing his fingers on the wound even harder, Dean drew his brother by the hand, bringing their bodies inches apart. He knew that this would look bizarre to their mother, but he couldn't care less at the moment. The greed eyed man grabbed Sam's uninjured hand with his own free one, preventing him from taking a step away from him. "I don't know what she gave to you..." Dean said, voice low, but clear and sure. "Or what made you cut it this time. But I'm guessing you had to." He continued, casting a glance over his shoulder to his mother, silently telling her not to interfere. "But what I do know, is that this..." Here Dean paused, pressing his fingers on Sam's palm even harder, feeling hot blood running down freely. "This, isn't supposed to be working. Not anymore. Not again, not ever again." The middle Winchester said, in a voice strict, yet Mary could trace the guilt hiding in the background.
Sam seemed lost for a second, so Dean moved them both a few steps, making sure to hide Mary's figure from Sam's line of sight with his own body. "Do you understand what I'm saying? This isn't supposed to be working anymore." the middle Winchester repeated patiently, relaxing his hold on Sam's now bloodied palm. "Dean?" Sam whispered, in such a low voice, that Mary missed the question. Dean however, did not. The green eyed man wanted nothing more than to tower over Sam, to kiss him, to make him understand that whatever it was that he had seen when Toni had drugged him, was a hallucination. But this, this was real, so very real. But he couldn't do any of those things, for their mother was staring at them.
So, he just nodded his head, fixing his eyes on hurt hazel ones. And as he beheld the fear and the agony within them, Dean knew he wanted one thing even more than to calm his brother down and show him that he was safe. Yeah, he wanted something even more than that. He wanted to get that British bitch in his hands and make her regret the moment she stepped inside their bunker. Sam blinked, slightly rising his head, to get a glimpse of his mother, which was now on her feet as well. The young man freed himself from his brother's hold, adjusting the bandage on his palm so as to stop the bleeding and smiled. "It's fine... Mom it's fine, don't worry." He said, fixing his gaze upon her.
Dean pierced Sam with his eyes, as he reluctantly let go of his hand. He knew, he could see, that Sam was lying. He hadn't been convinced that this wasn't in his head. Dean bit the inside of his cheek hard, silently promising blood. But he also took a mental note, to stay awake after their mother would go to sleep. Something inside of him, his big brother instinct, to be accurate, was telling him, that before the crack of dawn, Sam, would need him again... Would need him to show him that he wasn't dead, that the Darkness hadn't swallowed him...
They returned to their seats, for the crisis, was over, or so Mary thought. Thus, she did the only think she could do, the only thing she wanted to do. She watched, savoring the moments, which she could tell that had taken place many times in the past, but she was not there to witness. Sam was smiling, taking small sips of beer and Dean was eating pie like he had never eaten before... Two simple acts and yet, to her they seemed as though they were praiseworthy... After the meal had ended, she said Goodnight to her sons, withdrawing to the room they had given her, by the end of the hall.
Not ten minutes later, Sam was knocking her door, holding a cup of tea in his slightly, trembling hands. God, this look in his eyes... He was looking at her as though she was but a mirage, a foggy dream, which would disappear any moment. And then, she noticed, the way he slid his right hand inside his pocket, the way his face twitched as his fingers pulled the hurt skin downwards. For a few moments, none of them uttered any words. Sam let his eyes flutter close, reopening them after a few heartbeats. "I have so much about you boys to catch up on... Mother stuff, you know... First tooth, First crush..." Mary said, getting up from the chair she was sitting. "I just have a lot of blanks to fill in." She continued, gazing at her son. "Mom... for me, Having you here... Just, Um..." His gaze fell on his feet and the young man dragged his nails over his wounded palm yet again... "... Fills in the biggest blank..." He said, and Mary was moving in less than a heartbeat.
She stretched her hands, pulling Sam, her son, her Sammy, her six months old Sammy, in her arms. But as she soon found out, she could no longer hold him as she used to, because Sam was now thirty-four years old, taller, so much taller than her. So she rises to the tips of her toes, burying her face in his chest. Because he was not six months old anymore, for her to cradle him in her arms. She couldn't let his head rest on her breast, above her heart. She couldn't spin him around anymore... She couldn't... But then, all of a sudden, Sam's long, strong arms were towering over her, crushing her on a solid chest. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply, letting his eyes flutter close yet again.
'Do you know what will happen if you give in? If you let yourself enjoy this?' Lucifer devious voice echoed in Sam's head, making him tighten his hold around his mother's shoulders, pressing her ear to his chest, making her hear his quickening heartbeat. 'I will let you enjoy it, let you forget, the fact that this is nothing more than a lie... And at that moment, when you will be feeling happy, and whole... I will appear and I will blow out a breath, which will destroy everything that exists...' Sam opened his eyes then, waiting for the Devil to come. But when he didn't, Sam let himself surrender to that touch, let himself melt in that embrace.
An embrace which he thought he would never get. An embrace Mary had dreamed of giving to her son, to both of her sons. An embrace which was delayed for thirty-three long, seemingly endless, years. An embrace so long desired, that Sam was sure, all the hardships he and Dean had gone through, every second they spend in Hell, every fight they had won, every path they had chosen, even the sinful one, had been leading to this moment. And let it be a hallucination, a game Lucifer played to break Sam. The young man couldn't care less.
Eventually, the two of them parted, and Sam left his father's journal on the table for his mother to read. He then withdrew to his own room, lying on the bed, with his hazel eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Now he just had to wait. If it was a spell which was creating all those images, it would soon wear off, and if it was Lucifer creating all this, then, he would soon pay a visit. Sam waited and waited. Seconds, turned into minutes, which turned into hours. And Sam, remained still, gazing at the ceiling. He didn't know how, or when, he fell asleep...
The night was at its midst, when Dean gathered himself up from the kitchen floor, on which he had been sitting on, gazing at photographs. Frozen moments in time they were, trapped in a piece of film, and then, trapped in a piece of paper. Blessed, but cursed as well, to never fade, to always be there, to remind Dean, of the years which had long came to pass, of the carefree moments he once had, of the people he would never see again... His emerald eyes fell on a photograph of Mary and John, and the middle Winchester, smiled sadly at first, but then, the sadness was replaced by joy, for Mary was now alive and well.
Dean walked down the hallway, checking on his mother, finding her asleep on her bed, with the all too familiar brown journal in her lap. The green eyed man smiled, walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. His steps, then led him outside of Sam's door. He stopped there, letting his eyes flutter close, focusing on his hearing. Everything seemed to be peacefully quiet, too quiet, for Dean's liking. The hunter exhaled slowly, feeling his stomach unclenching. Maybe, he was wrong about Sam, maybe for once, the kid had drifted off, to sleep. But then, he heard it. That soft, pained whimper, followed by the broken muffled whisper of his own name...
Dean sighed bitterly, as he entered Sam's room, careful to close the door behind him.
"No... No please, Don't... Don't kill him... No... Dean..." At the sound of the broken words, the middle Winchester turned on the light and knelled on the floor, next to his brother's bed. Sam's eyes were wide open, and he was pounding for breath, his clothes, which he hadn't bother to take off, were wet with sweat. "Sam..." Dean whispered, voice low, so as to not spook him. At the sound of his name, Sam turned his face towards his brother, but he instantly moved himself backwards, his back becoming one with the wall.
"Sam, hey, easy-" "Just... Just get done with it, come on! You had your fun, am I right?" "Sammy, what are you talking about-" "Just get done with it, whoever you are! Are you that Toni bitch? Then kill me already! Or am I dead and you are Lucifer? In any case, get done with it... Just don't take this form..." Sam pleaded, voice breaking. And as Sam finally fell apart, Dean fell apart right along with him... He got on the bed, gathering Sam in his arms, despite the fact that the younger man was struggling in his embrace. Sam, who had refused to give in, to the pain when Toni was torturing him, was now breaking... Dean's eyes blurred, but he kept holding Sam close, so very close to him, not knowing if his brother believed he was real...
Well, if he didn't believe it, Dean would have to prove it. Once again, he would have to fight, in order to bring his brother back to him. An ugly fight, in which Dean hoped he would never serve as a soldier again. Not for his own sake, but for his brother's. But then again, Dean was a soldier, who would always put his life on the line. And this, was for Sam, a fight Dean would never run away from. For Sam, he would always fight. And by God, for Sam, Dean would always win. And the night, was still young...
A/N: This is the end of chapter 1, any mistakes are my own... I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Thank Eric for them, thank me for my imagination...No money are made from this.
Hope you enjoyed! A/N!