A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one shot peoples. Been kindda busy what with being a full time student and full time work (dude, I'm superman!). Haha, so this next one shot... was one that I was thinking about at work today. I wrote it a long time ago, and there is a warning on it similar to one that I've given before: keep reading no matter what!. Yeah, just keep reading it-- the weak at heart can peak at the end, but to have the full effect just read right through, and trust me. So yeah-- read it, review it, and enjoy!
Title: Past, Present and Future
Genre: This story has everything; tragedy, angst, fluff... and hell, even a little humour.
Summary: After a tragedy happens, Sam is stuck in a life he no longer wants to live. It only seems to get worse, however, when a spirit comes to give him an ominous warning.
Sam ran his fingers across the lettering. It was carved into the dark blue marble, and the sunlight that shone through the trees sparkled off the slate. It wasn't very old, and Sam knew that with time, the wonder of the grave would loose its effect. It would wear down, overgrow and perhaps be forgotten. Sam nearly laughed, though wanted to cry. He knew that would never happen as much as the person the monument was for would want it to. He'd want Sam to forget, to move on, to hunt every evil thing from there to eternity. To learn from their mistakes, but not to let them get in the way.
Dean had always told Sam that he'd be first.
He was right.
"Come on Dean," Sam ripped away a small weed, "How the hell do you expect me to do this huh? First Mom… then Dad, and now you?"
Sam was an orphan. The thought was weird, and technically incorrect, but the basis was there. He'd lost both parents, though wasn't a child anymore. The ringing word of 'orphan' had crossed Sam's mind the day they burned their Dad, but Dean had been there giving him more love and support than he could ever remember John giving. But now…
Sam was an orphan.
Sam laughed, "God Dean. I'm acting like a child right now-- you'd smack me if you were around." the twenty-three year old swallowed hard, "I just-- wish I knew what the hell happened to you."
If there was one wish Sam could have at that moment, he knew what it would be. Without any doubt in his mind, he'd want to go back a week and a half. Ten days ago. To when Dean was killed by something that made his body nearly indistinguishable and burnt. Sam had identified him by the wallet and the necklace.
"Here Dean," Sam's voice was soft as he echoed the actions he did by his mothers grave months ago, "I know how much this meant to you."
A small hole was dug into the ground with the tip of his knife, and Sam placed the charmed necklace in. A tear rolled gently down the sole Winchester's face, and he quickly stood to his feet and walked back to the Impala. At first Sam never wanted to see the car again, though Dean's voice stopped him from scrapping it.
Dean would kill him if he didn't take care of it.
"Don't worry Dean," Sam started up the car and pulled out onto the road, "I'll find what did this to you, I swear."
"No you won't."
The sudden voice coming from the passenger seat beside him caused Sam to scream out, and the car to slide viciously across the deserted road. Sam smashed painfully against the door.
"Whoa! Sammy, watch it!"
A loud screeching noise filled the air as Sam slammed on the breaks; the Impala finally coming to a stop at a sharp angle across the road.
"D-Dean," Sam choked on his words as he stared over at his brother sitting beside him on the beige seat.
Dean studied his little brother for a moment, "Dude, are you ok?"
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.
"Come on Haley Joel," Dean laughed, "You've seen more dead people than anyone."
"But you were never one of them!" Sam cried out suddenly.
"I'm guessing that's because this is the first time I've been one," Dean quipped, "Now get the car straight before someone creams you. Because I swear, if this car gets wrecked because you're trying to do doughnuts on a random road, I'm going to kill you."
"Dean…" Sam cleared his throat as he drove slowly down the road, trying to calm himself, "Dean, what are you doing here?"
"You said you wanted to find out what happened to me," Dean spoke carefully, studying Sam, "But you can't."
Sam's hand's were shaking and white as he clutched the wheel. He refused to look at Dean, so instead stared straight ahead at the winding road. Dean was right-- he'd seen enough spirits and things in his life time than people even think about. But that didn't stop him from convincing himself that it was his desperate imagination brining the ghost of Dean into the car with him.
"Sam…" Dean's voice rung out again, as Sam did his best to ignore it, "Sam, come on, you suck at this game, and you always have."
"This isn't real," Sam continued to look out the windshield, tears rolling down his face.
"Sam stop the car," Dean's voice went monotone.
"Why?"
"Oh, now you listen to me," Dean muttered before continuing, "Because you're swerving all over the place, and this is going to be a whole lot harder if you die too."
Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled the sleek, black car to the side, and turned off the engine. His heart pounded, and the young hunter still refused to look at his brother.
"Sammy listen to me, ok?" Dean spoke softly.
Sam wordlessly nodded.
"You want to figure out what happened to me, but you can't," Dean explained, pivoting to face Sam in the beige seats.
Sam paused, his voice breaking as he finally looked over at his dead brother, "But I have to Dean. I have to help you…"
"I know Sammy," Dean tried to keep his voice reassuring, though knew what he was about to say would ruin any chances of that, "But… you can't because you're not even conscious right now?"
"What?" Sam looked over at Dean, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Sam, how did I die?" Dean asked simply.
"I don't know," Sam spoke quietly.
"How did you get to my gravesite?" Dean questioned.
Sam, again, was silent as he shook his head.
"Dude…" Dean smiled almost sadly, "I died in a car accident. In the same car you're sitting in right now."
"No," Sam's voice was barely audible, "No… Dean… I-I don't want to hear this…"
"Sam, you have to," Dean's voice was firm, "It started a few weeks ago. We were on a hunt and some son of a bitch demon clocked you good," Dean closed his eyes to clear his emotions, "Dude… I got you to the hospital, but the doctors said it was too late. They said that the swelling around your brain was too severe, and you went into a coma. They--" the older brother cleared his throat, "--they said that you wouldn't wake up at all man. They said to just give up. But you know our family," he chuckled, "We don't know the meaning of giving up. So… so I took the car to try and find some help-- find anything to make you better. But I guess I was going too fast--"
"Please don't Dean," Sam had silent tears coming down his face, "Please… no…"
"I was gone before anyone even arrived at the scene," Dean concluded solemnly.
"Why are you telling me this?" Sam asked desperately, "I don't understand. If-- if I'm not even alive right now, and you're dead… why did you have to tell me?"
"You are alive Sammy," a smile broke through Dean's face, "…and so am I."
Sam stared, wide eyed at the apparition of his brother sitting beside him. Silence lingered in the soft country air, Sam afraid to speak or move.
"Do you understand?" Dean asked.
"I'm-- this--" Sam cleared his throat and spoke quietly, "This is a vision."
Dean continued to smile and nodded his head, "Yeah, but you're still in a coma right now. Dude… you have to wake up before I leave."
Sam's breath quickened, "H-How?"
"That's up to you Sam," Dean grinned, "Use your brain college boy, and I bet you'll figure something out."
Sam was about to reply, though quickly found himself alone in the car as the ghost of Dean disappeared into nothingness. His heart pounded in his chest, and Sam struggled to try and think if what just happened was real. It took no more than an earth shattering moment to realize it didn't matter.
Sam couldn't go on without his big brother.
The 1967 Chevy Impala wasn't a quiet car to begin with, and as Sam revved out the engine to get it as fast as possible it cried in protest as tears started to block his vision. Nothing seemed real, nothing seemed to matter, and as a sharp corner in the road approached, the youngest Winchester found himself squeezing his eyes shut, not wanting to see his life end before he'd barely started it.
The sound was one that would never reach Sam's ears as the black car shot off the road, and smashed deafeningly into an old tree. Like aluminum foil, the car scrunched up, molding itself around the sturdy trunk of a oak tree. Flames burst out of the engine and quickly spread through the car. All the while the occupant sat inside, one voice entering his ears that had nothing to do with the horrific crash he'd just endured…
"Sam," the voice was quiet and tear-filled, "Sammy… please man… please don't do this…"
Everything in Sam's body hurt, and though he knew he recognized the voice, Sam couldn't quiet figure out who it was.
"I-I have to do something," the voice was so familiar!, "I-- I'll find Bobby… he can help. Sammy… Sammy, if you can hear me, I promise I'll be back. I promise little brother."
It was Dean! Sam's mind flashed painfully back to the premonition that had seemed so real. Dean had died when he left the hospital to find help, and now the younger brother had to stop him from leaving.
A hand was slipped delicately around his and Sam heard his big brother's voice once more, "I'll be back Sammy."
Slowly and painfully Sam squeezed Dean's hand back.
"S-Sam--" Dean breathed staring down at Sam.
Sam had a large tube coming out of his mouth, and seemingly hundreds of other tubes and wires sticking out from around him. Just over a week ago when he was brought in, the younger hunter had bruises covering much of his face and body, though now they were fading into dim memories.
"Sammy, c'mon buddy," Dean begged, "Open your eyes."
Slowly Sam opened his eyes, his blurred vision slowly making a crisp outline of the best thing he knew he'd ever see. Dean grinned down at him, his cheeks pink, and tears instantly crawling their way down his unshaven face.
"Hey Sammy," Dean whispered, rubbing his hand, "It's ok… e-everything is ok. I promise."
One week later--
"Up and at 'em," Dean knocked loudly on the hospital door and stepped inside his brother's room.
"You up and at 'em," Sam mumbled attempting to bring the covers up over his head.
"No way dude," Dean pulled the blankets back, "You gotta walk around. If you're going to be covering my back when we're doing our job, I at least want you to be able to walk more than five feet without cussing."
"Jerk," Sam groaned.
"Yeah, ok you little bitch, just get up," Dean clapped Sam on his leg, "I want us out of here by the end of the week."
Sam swung his feet to the floor, the room spinning before his eyes, "I thought the doctor said he wanted me here for at least another two weeks?"
"Yeah," Dean grinned, "But our fake insurance card says that we'll be lucky to make it to Thursday. Come on."
Dean reached down a hand, and grabbed Sam from under the arm. With a loud groan Sam stood to his feet and together they walked a few steps; Dean's muscles firmly grabbing Sam's arm to keep him steady.
"So how do you feel today?" Dean asked.
"Better," Sam brought his hand up to his head where a large white bandaged was wrapped firmly around it.
Dean swallowed, "I'm glad you're ok Sammy. I don't know what I would have done--"
"I know," Sam stared down at his feet, forcing them to move the way he wanted, "I'm glad you're ok too Dean. It just wouldn't be the same without you."
"We're like Jack and Jill," Dean commented.
Sam stopped and looked up at him, "What?"
"Jack and Jill…" Dean sheepishly tried to explain, "You know… those two kids that do everything together, and then fall down the hill…" Sam stared blankly at him, "Come on dude-- I've had about five hours of sleep in the past three days. Take it or leave it."
Sam laughed, "Yeah."
"So," Dean paused once they got to the doorway, "Think you can walk on your own?"
"I can try," Sam's voice shone with determination.
Dean let go of his brother's arm and he watched as Sam took slow steps on his own across the hospital hall.
"Good job Sammy," Dean spoke hoarsely, tears tickling his eyes.
"Hey Dean?" Sam looked behind him, a smile on his face.
"Yeah?"
"Just one thing," Sam continued to walk, Dean just a few paces behind him, "When we do leave here… I'm driving."