A Letter from Home

Disclaimer: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

Summary: Dean writes to Sam a while after receiving a letter at Christmas. Previous chapter (postcard) is written at the same time and posted; this longer letter will remain unsent by Dean.

Rating: A few mild curses

Author's Note: Advance apologies continue. Evidence of broken Dean within. No mending yet but fear not, it is on its way. Will you stick with me a little longer? Please review and let me know! And yes the start of each paragraph does bear a remarkable resemblance to the previous postcard, Dean has fleshed out what he really wants to say but keeps hidden from Sam here.

Happy New Year Sam

Hope you had a good Christmas and that you enjoyed yourself with your friends and up at Jessica's folks. Actually, that's not true. Sure that's what I wrote on your postcard but actually I hope it sucked, so that maybe, just maybe you will look back at our family Christmases and you won't be so disappointed but you'll recognise them for the real effort that went into them for the three of us to be together at some point during the day and do something like a family. It was your arguments with Dad that drove him away altogether the last few years. You know what else, I'm sorry I feel this way because in my heart and soul I want for you to be happy, but I also want you to see that not everything that happened to us as kids was bad, that Dad and I did love you and did want the best for you – we were just crap at showing it.

Your Christmas present was late and I know what you'll think, that I forgot about it or couldn't be bothered until the sales but you would be wrong. I bought it way back, saw it and thought of you. I didn't send it though because part of me was hoping that you'd call, we'd talk, maybe meet up somewhere, even if you didn't come back to see Dad. All the time I knew you wouldn't, it was just an idle daydream on my part and hey when reality sucks, why not pass the time of day with a daydream or two?

Here we go again, Sam. Another motel, another grey January day, another sucky diner, another meal eaten alone. We don't even pretend to make an effort any more. Without you, there doesn't seem to be any point in even making the effort to pretend we're a family now. We just wander in and out of one another's life half the time, pausing long enough for him to give me a new set of standing orders, my latest job, or for me to report back from my last skirmish. I struggle to remember the last time I truly spent time talking and enjoying someone, anyone's company.

I always thought that this is what I wanted, for Dad to trust me enough to let me do jobs on my own but I never realised that this is what it would mean. I've come to dread it. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I fully expect to wind up dead or failing that in a hospital slipping away alone, soon to be forgotten.

I've always prided myself on being strong and being a protector but without someone to protect I'm just lost. I feel like my strength is waning. I'm finding myself questioning Dad more and more of the time, not his actions or instructions but his judgement and only his judgement in one thing. I can't find it in myself to believe in me any longer. When Dad sends me off on a job, I no longer believe that I can do it. I'm a disaster waiting to happen. I find myself constantly asking him if I'm doing okay, is this the right way to… whatever…, stuff I've known and done for years. Decisions I would have made without a second thought before you left, now leave me hesitant and doubting. What would I ever do if Dad wasn't here when I got back? Without you, he's the only thing that keeps me grounded at all.

We're spending more and more time apart and less and less time together even when we are in the same place. The rooms all look the same, the bars all look the same and I'm beginning to think even the girls I pick up look the same. The only thing that changes is what we chase.

I miss you Sam. It's plain and simple. I'm also glad that you don't miss me and that you've finally realised that I can't join you. I'd only spoil it all for you. I'm glad that you've found someone to love and who loves you and I hope it all works out. I'm jealous and I hate that about myself at the same time that all I ever wanted for you was for you to be happy.

Now you can see why I only write postcards – the garbage doesn't fit, no room for sentimentality or pathetic whining. 'Suck it up, soldier.' – sound familiar. It's now my motto. I'm thinking of getting it tattooed on the inside of my arm or maybe across my palm so I can use it to remind myself.

Sam, I'm sorry for the bad thoughts about you that trail through my mind sometimes, believe me, jealousy is tiring and really my heart, the bit that counts anyway, isn't jealous, it's proud of you.

Stay well and safe

Dean