Pick Up the Pieces and Start Again


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

Summary: A companion piece to the end of 'A Letter Home'

Rating: Some bad language


Author's Note: Thank you to Rae Artemis for her help as beta.

Chapter Three: I never really knew him before, did I?

Sam handed his brother the tablets and then he helped Dean lie down and get comfortable pulling the blanket over him, watching with some degree of relief as his brother slipped rapidly into a much needed sleep. Even Dean had limits and Sam had no idea how he'd stayed conscious throughout the ordeal in the bathroom, but at least now maybe things could start to improve and he should be feeling a bit better (definitely still sore) when he woke up. With that thought, Sam flipped the TV on and flicked through the channels, looking for something worth watching. Nothing. His curiosity had been piqued by the papers he had rummaged past in his brother's bag. Maybe they were something to do with Dad, maybe he could solve the puzzle of where exactly his father had gone, maybe Dean had missed something and if they weren't anything to do with that, he wouldn't read them, he'd just put them back and ignore them.

He leant over to the bag which was still resting on his bed and started to delve again. It only took a moment to find them and pull them from the bag. They were all bundled together with a band, he snapped the band off and opened the first of the papers, and began to read,

'Sam,

I don't know why I'm writing this down as I have no intention of sendingit to you and have written you a postcard instead. Like I say, all is fine here and I am working flat out to deal with the jobs that need sorting. …'

Shit. That wasn't what he'd expected. He closed it and opened the next…

'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…'

A sense of foreboding flooded his system, but he didn't stop, instead he went through the pile and read the start of each one. It didn't take long for him to realise that many were letters to him, letters Dean had written but never sent during his time at Stanford. They were interspersed with the letters he had sent to Dean. Why had Dean written letters and never sent them? Puzzled, he went back to the first and began to read. He looked over at his still sleeping brother. Guilt swept through him, he had never realised just how much Dean hurt when he left.

He picked up the next and read again. 'Well Sam, suck it up, you really are a selfish bastard,' he whispered. Dean never gave a hint that this was what had really been going through his mind. He'd never guessed how lonely Dean must have been feeling, neglected and ignored by his family. Unappreciated would have been an understatement. Sam considered how his own ignorant letters full of complaints about all they had missed out on would have hurt his brother more. If he had truly put some thought into it, he would have known that it was Dean and not Dad who had kept track of birthdays and Christmases and made sure there was some acknowledgement of the day, some semblance of family on those days, and he had ridiculed that, saying Jess' family did it properly. Dean protecting him, he thought back over his life and couldn't remember a time when Dean hadn't protected him, even when he was angry or hurt, he still protected his little brother and now it seemed he'd even protected him when he was at Stanford, protected Sam from his own loneliness and despair, choosing instead to suffer alone.

Reading on he found out about his father's growing distance, and Dean's belief that he was the failed son, the one his Dad hadn't wanted despite his every effort to please. All these years when Sam had thought he was a disappointment and he could see them now if he tried through Dean's eyes. It wasn't that Dad had thought Sam weak, he'd wanted him protected and not in the way of danger and evil. It wasn't that Dad hadn't wanted him to go to Stanford; it was that away from himself and Dean, he didn't know how to protect his youngest son. It wasn't that Dad had thought Dean was a better son and more of a soldier, he'd not valued Dean's childhood at all and his life was only important in relation to the time he spent looking after his brother. Sam wondered which of them had been right, the opposing view of John Winchester's relationship with his sons was a shock but he could see how you could read it either way. It was a mess that would someday have to be unravelled. It needed sorting for Dean's sake more than anything else because he couldn't continue with his suicidal mission to protect Sam at all costs. Sam wasn't going to let his brother be a sacrifice no matter what sort of brain-washing his father had inflicted. He read on and saw the point at which the final straw had been reached; the absolute desertion of his son, abandoning Dean to a life of not knowing what had happened, weeks spent trawling hospitals and morgues looking for his father before in desperation he had turned to his brother for help.

Sam shrugged deeper into the covers on his bed, seeking some sort of warm solace, recognising the part he had played in bringing Dean to this state, knowing how he had felt when his brother turned up asking for help. Help he had only begrudgingly given, it had been a very fine line he had walked and he knew how close he had come to refusing Dean that weekend. Guilt washed over him again as he recognised that he had only given in, in the hope that it would get Dean away from Jess quicker, Dad found and then he'd be left alone again but maybe he'd have had a chance to make things better with Dad. So his reasons for joining Dean had been selfish, what was new? Most aspects of his relationship with his brother revolved around his own selfishness. He regretted it, he'd never looked at his life from Dean's point of view, he'd been selfish, Dad had encouraged it and Dean had let him get away with it.

Sam knew these letters provided a lot of answers to just who Dean was, why it was that Dean always put himself in danger to save Sam, why there were so many things he wouldn't say. Sam glanced over at his brother and promised to do better by him. He folded the letters carefully and put them back in Dean's bag, then reached over for his own, he moved aside the clothes until he found the envelope he was looking for and pulled it out. He'd never been sure why he'd kept either of the letters in the envelope after writing, the first and last letters to Dean from his time at Stanford, maybe it was meant to be. Now he'd seen Dean's unsent letters, maybe fate was dictating and saying that it was time for Dean to see his. 'Forgive me, Dean. I won't leave you behind again. I can't hunt forever, but I won't turn my back when I go, I promise you that.'

He crossed to the other bed, reaching down he felt his brother's forehead to check for fever, smoothed the sweat slicked hair and settled the cover again, tucking his brother in as Dean had done so often for him when they were younger. He put the envelope on the nightstand propped against the bedside lamp, then moved back to his own bed where he undressed and lay down to sleep. Tomorrow they could start putting things right between them. Sam promised the mother he only knew from the stories Dean had told him that he would make sure of it.


Author's Note: So do you like it? Let me know – reviews are appreciated and I've now reached the point at the end of 'A Letter Home' so it is new territory but not plain sailing!