Thank you to everyone for the reviews of my previous work. Originally I intended for it to be a complete story on its own, but so many of you asked that I continue, I decided I could work on a second chapter (and it looks like probably a third). This is Dean's response to the tape Sam leaves in the Impala.
Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Supernatural and the characters therein belong to the writers, directors, producers, and actors that bring it to life.
Rated T for a bit of mild swearing.
"Hello?" Bobby's gruff voice sounded over the phone.
"Hey, Bobby, it's Dean." Dean winced as he realized just how long it had been since he had spoken to the older hunter.
"Dean? Damn, son, it's good to hear your voice. It's been a year. Is everything okay? What have you been doing with yourself?"
"Sam left me a tape, Bobby. He's out. He got out somehow and he left me a tape in the Impala, but he says he won't see me because he doesn't want to drag me back in. And he doesn't know that you and Cas are still alive." Dean let it all out in a rush of excitement and emotion.
"Wait. What? Slow down for a minute. Are you sure it's from Sam? It would be easy enough for something to fake Sam's voice and..."
Dean interrupted, "He left the amulet, Bobby. My amulet. And on the tape, he said 'I let him out, I locked him back up again'. One of the last talks we had, before Sam said yes, he said that to me. That because he was the one who let Lucifer out, he had to be the one to put him back in. No one else knew that."
"Sam's been in hell for year, Dean. If we follow the timing based on your experience, that's 120 years. They've had more than enough time to get him to tell them everything. I'm just saying you have to be careful."
"Bobby, it's Sam! I know it is. I'll test him, I will, but it's him. And I have to find him. I have to convince him that this isn't the right choice. Staying apart isn't the right choice. Damn it, I can't lose him like this. I'm thrilled that he's out, you can't even begin to imagine how much, but this? How can he possibly think this is better? Please, Bobby. You have to help me. Please."
"Of course I'll help you, idjit. You boys, you're like sons to me. I've told you that. Now tell me what you know."
Dean filled Bobby in, playing the part of the tape with Sam's message over again as he drove back to the house.
A week later, he was no closer to finding Sam. Bobby had come to see them, much to Ben's delight. He thought Bobby was awesome, like a secret superhero. Dean saw a side of Bobby he'd forgotten existed. For so long, Bobby had been a hunter to him. Seeing him with Ben had reminded Dean of what it was like when he and Sam were kids and Bobby occasionally took care of them while Dad was on a hunt. Lisa made pie, which Bobby declared one of the best he'd ever eaten, making Lisa blush. Together, the two of them tried everything they could think of. They called other hunters, not revealing they were looking for Sam, but looking for signs. They tried aliases, old phone numbers (thinking Sam might have reactivated an old account), and checked out all the local motels and bars, since they knew Sam had been nearby for at least a little while. The closest they came was finding a couple of guys Sam played pool with. They remembered him because of the money he won off them. But that was it. Finally, Dean sat down with Lisa's laptop and logged on to his never used email account. Sam had set it up for him and made sure he knew how to use it, but Dean had never needed it. Until now. He put Sam's old email address in the 'TO:' line, filled in the subject line, and started typing.
Sam went to the library every day to use the computer. It was quiet and peaceful. The familiarity of being surrounded by books comforted him. He used one of the computers on the main floor, sitting alongside a dozen other library patrons. Once he used up his time, he'd work on research, trying to figure out more about what happened to him, and what might have set him free. Then he'd sign up for more computer time in the afternoon and use that up. One day, frustrated by his lack of progress researching, he grabbed a cart labeled 're-shelve' someone had left in the middle of an aisle and had gone to work. Mrs. Baranski, the head librarian, found him when he had only a few books left to put away.
"Oh. Hello. I've been looking for that cart. Did you put all those books away?" She adjusted her wire rimmed glasses on her nose.
"Yes m'am. I needed a break from my research and I thought this would be a good way to clear my mind. I hope it's not a problem." Sam pushed his hair out of his face and tried to look sheepish.
"Well, it's only a problem if you put them away wrong. Show me what you did."
Once Sam had proven he knew how to properly replace the books, he and Mrs. Baranski started talking. He reminded her of her grandson, she told him. When he mentioned research again, she assumed he was talking about graduate school work. He let her believe that, knowing the truth was too difficult to explain. The day after she caught Sam shelving books, she found him in the stacks after his morning computer time.
"Would you like a little more computer time, Sam? I know that it must be hard with limited access to the computer. And we're a small branch. We can't have all the books you need for your research. Keep in mind we can order copies of any book you need with inter-library loan, but that takes some time. I still say nothing beats books, but the internet can be useful."
"More computer time would be great, Mrs. Baranski, but it isn't fair to the other patrons if I take up all the time on one of the computers. I'm saving up get my own. I should have enough money soon." A few more nights of playing pool, he thought. The computer is going to cost more than I paid for the car. Wouldn't Dean just love that? I can hear him now, calling me geek boy.
"Well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in on a little secret." She waited for him to nod, then continued, "We have a research and cataloging room on the second floor that no one really knows about. With all the cutbacks and this economic crunch, that room never gets used. What few new volumes we get we just catalog right on the main floor. But the room has a computer with internet access. It's quiet, and private. You could leave some volumes in there overnight, as long as you promised to shelve them when you were finished with them. Maybe in exchange, you could re-shelve some of the books here before you leave every night? Help us catch up? Or move a few boxes around for us?"
So for the past few days, Sam had followed the same routine. Show up, shelve a cart of books, head upstairs and get to work. At lunch time, he came downstairs and ate a sandwich with Mrs. Baranski, shelved another cart of books or anything else the elderly librarian asked for help with, and went back up to research until just before closing. He would help Mrs. Baranski finish up for the night, and leave for the hotel, or the bar, depending on his mood. During all the research he checked his email frequently. He was torn, wanting to hear from Dean, and not wanting to hear from him. But not hearing from him made Sam wonder if there was something wrong. Is he angry with me? Or did he just not hear the tape? Maybe he doesn't believe it was really me. At first, with the unlimited computer access, he checked his email obsessively. After a day or two, he was driving himself crazy. Stop it, Sam. You told him it was better this way. That he should contact you if he needed you. He's doing what you always wanted. He's respecting your wishes, he told himself. Yeah, sucks that he picked now to do it though, he thought. He finally decided to just log on to the email in the morning and leave the program running, refusing to check it. Every night as he logged out, he looked at the empty screen and wondered when it would stop hurting.
Then one day, a week after he had left Dean the tape in the Impala, the computer chirped at him. At first, Sam didn't recognize the importance of the sound. He was deep in the translation of an older volume, trying to understand an obscure legend that might hold some answers for him. He pushed the keyboard off to the side of the table, thinking he must have just bumped it with an elbow or something. But then he remembered. The computer chimed when he got an email.
He scrambled for the mouse and watched as the screen saver disappeared. Clicking on the tab for his email at the bottom of the screen, he held his breath as his inbox came up. Waiting there was a message for him. From Dean. Sam recognized the email address, because he had given it to Dean one day and forced him to remember it. Just in case, he'd said. In case of what? Dean had asked. Just in case. Dean had given Sam a look, but stopped arguing at that point.
Sam smiled at the subject line: 'Seriously? What the hell were you thinking, Sam?' So like Dean. It was so like Dean to lead with his anger. He clicked on the link and started to read his brother's email.
Sam,
We've been looking for a week now. Since you left that tape in the car. A solid week of trying to chase you down, figure out where you've been hiding yourself. I found the guys that you hustled playing pool – nice work there, by the way – but we haven't been able to find you. No phones to track, and you aren't using any of the old aliases I'd expect you to use. Smart ass. Can't make anything easy, can you? Sam – you're killing me here, you know that, right? A year. You've been gone a year and all you do is leave me a tape. Get your ass back here now. Knock on the door. Hold still while I do the tests. Remember to breath through the bone-crushing hug I'll give you. You are my brother, Sam. You are my family. We will figure out how you got out of the Pit together. We'll figure out what it means. I already talked to Lisa, and to Ben. She's cool with the idea of you staying here for a while. Ben thinks it's great – he's thinking you'll be able to play all these video games with him. The kid needs some competition. Believe it or not, I kinda suck at them. Guess I just don't see the point. Although, I'll admit, Rock Band is pretty cool. I'm serious about you staying here, Sam. Lisa knows that it could be dangerous. I told her that you're worried there might still be something after you. But she knows that I need you back. This whole year I've needed you back, but I didn't think it would happen, so I learned to just keep moving forward, even though – I'll say it, because you need to know – even though it felt like a huge chunk had been torn out of me. You can't do this, Sam! Dammit! Knowing that you're alive and out there, but that you won't come home? You won't see me? How do you think that makes me feel? I know I failed you. I should have gone with you. You'll never know how sorry I am that you had to be the one. How much it hurt. Please. I need my brother.
Listen, after you – I don't even know what to call it – fell, jumped, sacrificed yourself? – at the cemetery, Cas came back. Something brought him back, with all his angel mojo intact. He healed me and he healed Bobby. Are you understanding this, Sam? Bobby and Cas are both alive. What Lucifer did to them, well it didn't matter in the end, because they're both okay now. Well, I assume that Cas is okay, since he's an angel and all. I haven't seen much of him since that day. I haven't seen a whole lot of Bobby either, but after I listened to your tape I called him. He wants to see you too. I think the thought of you in the Pit has been bothering him more than he'd ever say. I know it's been eating me up inside.
God, our family is so messed up, isn't it? But we are a family. And family needs to be together. I mean – if there is something after you – you need me to watch your back. If something got you now, after all this, I'd never forgive myself. How would I even know what happened? Dammit, dammit, dammit, Sam! I want to smack you and hug you all at the same time. This is so frustrating. You know how hard it is for me to talk about this stuff in the first place, and like this – in an email? It sucks. You hear me? This sucks, Sam! I want to just order you to come back, but I can't do that. Not anymore. You might be my baby brother, but you aren't a baby. You've proven that, over and over again.
You said you couldn't forgive yourself. Here's my question. What do you have to forgive yourself for, Sam? You put the monster back in the cage. You saved the world. Only a few people will ever know, but it doesn't matter. It still makes you a little bit of a hero. Did you make some mistakes along the way? Yeah, but we all did. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times I screwed up, especially with you. You don't know how many times I've replayed everything this last year, wishing I said something different, or did something different. There's so many things I'd take back. We could start with the time I told you that if I didn't know you, I would have hunted you. Or the times I ignored how much you were hurting, because I was hurting too. And a thousand other things. We both made mistakes, and bad things took advantage of that.
So I'm back to this. Home, Sam. Please come home. I'm not saying we'll go back to hunting. I kind of like what I have going now. I'll support whatever choice you want for your life. (Well, within reason.) Being apart like this, though? This is a mistake. Because regardless of what we do, we're family. You need to be here and be part of it. Please.
Dean
ps – at the very least, call me. Or call Bobby.
Sam swiped at the tears on his cheeks. Bobby and Cas were alive. But more even than this good news, the joy of hearing from Dean overwhelmed him. This message, this was Dean. He was different. Their time apart had changed him, that was obvious in the email, but this was his brother. He's right, Sam thought. Maybe he's right, and I should go back. He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to decide what he should do. Before he came to a decision, the computer chimed again. Sam looked up, erased the screen saver, and checked his inbox. There was a second message from Dean. The subject line of this one read 'I changed my mind'. Brow furrowed, he clicked on the message.
Sammy,
I changed my mind. Get back here now. That is an order. Privileges of being the oldest. I don't care how old you get, I still get to boss you around. Bitch.
Sam laughed. He clicked the reply button without really thinking about it and typed.
I'll be there tomorrow morning. Not because of your orders though. Because your first email convinced me. Jerk.
That night, he told Mrs. Baranski that he was leaving in the morning to see his brother. She smiled, and told him thank you for his help. He went back to the motel and slept. In the morning, he rose early, got in the car, and headed for Dean. For home.