But the fear and the fire and the guns remain.
Author's note: Just a sidenote: chb76 asked me in a review whether this came from me or that I read the spoilers and based my story on those. That was interesting because, until now, I have been as unspoiled as can be. I've heard a bit about it now and I just wanted to say in all honesty that I really have been completely unspoiled so, yes, this came from no one but me. If the actual show would do something like this, it would be done a lot, lot better.
Apologies for the extreme tardiness.
He built a wall of steel and flame.
And men with guns, to keep it tame.
Then, standing back, he made it plain.
That the nightmare would never rise again.
But the fear and the fire and the guns remain.
(Josh Groban with Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Vusi Mahlasela – Weeping.)
Chapter 4.
His brother sat before him, balanced on a wooden chair. His feet firmly planted on the ground that wasn't there. He cocked his head and smiled. That smile that he used when he was trying to keep his mask in place.
"What's the matter, Sammy? Why you screaming like that?"
"Dean. Wha...why...where are we?"
A chuckle that didn't feel quite real, escaped his brother's lips.
"You tell me. You're the one that got us here. Not that I mind, wasn't exactly enjoying the show, if you know what I mean. Not a hot chick in any of those things and let me tell you; I've had my fair share."
Sam could only gape at what was sure to be a figment of his imagination. What was he supposed to do now? What was he supposed to say?
"Dean...what are you doing?"
"I'm waiting for you to figure it out, Sammy."
He had always been called the smart one. The one who uses big words and run-on sentences. Dean has accused him more than once of using that as a means of distraction. His brother, however, was the master of diversion tactics. He would stop at nothing, going as far as endangering his own health, just to get you to change the subject. He knew every trick. Sam did not have the patience to deal with any of those right now.
"Figure out what? What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about this, kiddo. About everything you just saw. I'm not too happy about that, by the way, but it's not like you didn't know already how fucked up I am, right? And maybe it will make you see."
"See what, Dean? Why can't you wake up?"
"Because you don't get it. You still don't see."
Even inside Dean's head he wanted to strangle him to almost-death.
"Dean! What is it that I'm supposed to see?! What are you talking about?"
"You, Sammy. And me. And that damn deal that I made."
"What about it? I...I'm gonna save you, Dean. I know you don't believe me, but I will."
"I do believe you, Sammy. If I didn't, we wouldn't be stuck here in the first place."
That got Sam's attention. Maybe Dean wasn't being cryptic and evasive. Maybe Dean knew exactly what he was saying. Sam just didn't.
"What??"
"I know you wanna save me, Sam. And I know that you might actually be able to pull it off at some point. That's why we're here."
"Dean..." His hands were itching to grab his brother by his collar and throw him across wherever they were.
"Dean. How can you be afraid of that? You really want to die?"
There would never be the right words to express the plain weirdness of talking to his brother like this. Here. Wherever 'here' was exactly.
"Of course not. Don't be an idiot."
"You're the one talking about the light at the end of the tunnel,Dean."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's my fondest wish to die. I just..."
"You what?"
"I really am tired, Sam. And I was never meant to win the race."
"What?"
A mocking, yet tender smile in Dean's eyes, like those only exchanged between people who loved each other.
"Glad to see Stanford finally paying off."
"Shut up, Dean."
"See? That's what I mean. So eloquent, my Sammy is."
"Knock it off, Dean. It's not gonna work. Explain it to me."
Dean sighed one of those weary sighes then, that he reserved strictly for when he was dealing with an impossible baby brother.
"Alright, Major Tom, but listen carefully. I'm so not in the mood for another one of your tantrums."
"I don't have tantrums..."
The raising of Dean's eyebrows spoke volumes and Sam caved.
"Okay, I'll be quiet."
"How very kind of you."
"Dean."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Look, Sammy...I don't want to die. Okay? Let's get that out of the way. I really don't. But I'm not gonna live."
"Dean."
"No, Sam. I don't mean it like that. Well...not just like that. I meant that even if I don't die in a few months. I am never gonna live either. Not really. Not like you could. I am never gonna have that white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and the golden retriever. That's never gonna happen for me and you know that. I know everything inside you is denying it but you know it. And the thing is, the thing that you just won't accept, is that even though I don't want to die, it's okay."
"How can it be okay? You're going to hell. Hell, Dean."
"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know. And I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but...I don't wanna live and not live either Sam. And I don't want you not living either. You should go back to school, marry someone, have kids. You should, Sam. You really should. You deserve that and I want you to have that. And although I hate not being able to see that happening, chances of that were never really big now were they?"
"What are you talking about? You don't know..."
Dean just raised his eyebrows again and interrupted his little brother with a tired, but all but angry, sigh.
" Thought you said you were gonna let me finish?" A resigned look now. the one he wore when he was on the verge of losing something, someone he loved and prepared himself, forced himself, to accept it.
"I mean: what part would I have in your life if you went back to the 'real world', Sam? And I don't mean that in a bitter way. I get it, I do. But I'd hate it. And now, far from it being the perfect solution, I don't have to worry about that."
The confusion of being here, of having this conversation with his brother in a figment of Dean's imagination, was quickly wearing down both Sam's energy and patience.
"About what? Dean..."
Dean, on the other hand, was as calm and collected and honest as he had ever been.
"About not fitting into your life. About losing you. I always knew you were gonna leave again, that you were gonna go back and at least this way, I don't have to be afraid of not being a part of your life. Sick as it may be, and I do know it's pretty sick, it gives me...peace. Rest."
Sam fell silent then. What was he supposed to say to this? How was he supposed to convince Dean that he was wrong when, in all honesty, he wasn't?
He knew Dean's fears of not fitting into his life were based on more than air. Had Jessica not died, they probably wouldn't be in each other's lives today.
"Dean...I know that maybe, if I had still been in school...that...but that's not the case. I'm not in school. I'm here. I'm with you. And I don't want to go back to school, Dean. That's not for me anymore. I just want..."
"What, Sammy?"
"I just want my brother back."
The silence was held by Dean this time, the easy and calm smile that had been on his face completely gone.
"Sammy..."
"No, Dean. We've had this conversation a million times and, somehow, you've managed to miss the point every single time. I don't want to go back to Stanford. I want you back. You. The you I've always known. Not the one that has given up. And I don't care how afraid you are of me dying, you are just going to have to realize that I am just as afraid of you dying!"
"Sam. I know you don't want me to die. You've made that pretty clear, but you are missing my point. You can live a life. I can't. And with you dead, I don't want to."
Sam sighed. This was going nowhere. Again. They were never gonna see eye to eye on this. Maybe he would just have to accept that he was going to have to stay in Dean's head forever.
"Dean..." He heaved a weary sigh: "...Fuck you!"
Surprise, mixed with the oldfashioned anger at being told off by anyone other than his father, registered on Dean's face.
"Excuse me now?"
"Fuck you!"
Dean raised one eyebrow and one corner of his lips curled up into a mocking smile. The softness of the one before missing this time around.
"Well, at least you're not having a tantrum."
"Shut up, Dean, and listen to me. For once in your life, actually hear what I have to say; I am not leaving. Okay? Ever. Even if I would eventually settle down or go back to school or whatever, I still wouldn't leave. I wouldn't just take off. Not anymore. You will always be in my life, Dean. Always. You're my brother. And I'm going to save you. And I'm gonna do that without dying myself and we're gonna live. Both of us. I don't care if you ever settle down. I don't care what it is you're gonna do with your life, as long as you're living."
"Sammy..."
"No. I am not going to give you the chance to "Sammy" me. I am not going to let you tell me that that's not the issue, because it might not be the only issue but I know that it is one. You don't have to be afraid of not being a part of my life, just like I shouldn't have to be afraid of you not being a part of mine. We may not have been this close if it hadn't been for Jess dying, we may not have been a part of each others lives, had I still been in school. But I don't care how it might have been. I care about the way it is. And the way it is, is I refuse to live my life without my brother in it. So hear me when I'm saying this: I am not leaving and I'm not dying. And neither are you."
He took a deep breath, having run out of it pretty much in the middle of his rant, and looked his brother in the eye.
"Okay?"
"Sam..."
He was not going to cave.
"Okay?"
Apparently neither was Dean.
"Sam. No. I hear you, okay? I do. But this isn't a matter of choice for me. I made a deal and that deal was pretty clear on the me dying part. I can't get out of that and I can't let you get me out of it because then you will die. And that is not an option."
God, he was tired.
"And you dying is? Goddamnit Dean. I am not asking you to just reneg and let me die because I know that'll never happen. I am asking you to just not give up yet. To not act like a dead man walking. I want my brother back, Dean. I need him back because..."
"Because what?"
"Because I can't do this without him."
Sam knew that maybe it wasn't fear to play on Dean's instinct to help and protect his little brother. To always be there for him. He also knew, however, that it may be the only thing that would work. To get Dean out of this. out of his own head and out of this...this...state of acceptance. This willingness to walk straight into the battlefield and lay down his life. He hoped that his doubts weren't showing on his face in any way because he refused to look away, willing Dean to see the hurt and the fear that he'd been collecting over the past few weeks, months even. He kept staring unflinchingly into his brother's eyes and the longer he stared, the more he looked he saw the truth sink into Dean. He saw the fear of his doomed path, the anger at the unfairness, but also the love that was and had always been his motivation. Knowing that, as always, his brother would let him win, he added:
"Dean, I know that you think it's your job to take care of me, to protect me. I've always known that, I counted on it even. But it's my turn now. We're brothers Dean, brothers. That means that we take care of each other. It goes both ways."
"I know that Sam, but if I let you do this, you'll die. I can't do that again."
There was a moment of anguished silence and for one fraction of a second, Sam thought he saw the glistening of tears.
"I have nothing left to give now."
Sam genuinly wondered how much of him was going to be left when they were done here. How much of his heart was gonna be unbroken, and whether or not it would ever heal.
"Dean, I know, I know but you won't have to. I'll be careful, and so will Bobby. And I can promise not to tell you about it, so you wouldn't even be letting me, I'd be doing it behind your back. I only want you to stop walking around as if you're already dead. And stop eating cheeseburgers for breakfast, or you will die in a year, from clogged arteries."
The small smile that pulled at Dean's lips was his final acknowledgement. His big brother would, as always, give him what he wanted and he couldn't help but wonder even more where, along the road, his brother had gotten so broken. And why he had never noticed. It was like every fracture in Dean's heart, every missing piece had been laid out in front of him and he had no idea how to put them back together. And whether there would ever be enough time. He looked at the smile on his brother's face again and he felt the relief fight off the guilt, and win. Would he ever be ashamed enough to put his brother first?
"Alright, Sam. alright."
"Yeah?" He couldn't stop the grin that fought its way to his face. And he felt the shame that would now forever come with it.
"Yeah, alright, I'll try, okay? I'll try." A hesitant smile to match Sam's broad grin.
"Anything to shut you up. But you can't expect me to stop worrying about you, to stop wanting to protect you 'cause that's never going to happen. Ever. Even if we live to 180."
The grin was getting broader still. It made Dean's smile falter.
"I know. I'm not asking you to stop worrying about me. I'm asking you to just worry a bit more about yourself. And to let me worry about you too."
Dean looked at him then with that expression he always wore when he knew he was about to let Sam win because he couldn't bare to not let him win. He forced every dark emotion into the back of his mind. "First things first", his father used to say. And saving Dean came first.
"Okay then Sammy. You win, kiddo."
And with that, the nightmares ended.
As always: Thank you for spending some time with my story. I would be grateful if you took a moment extra to review. I, like every author, treasure reviews and really value your opinion.
