Is Revenge Worth It?

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural is mine; I have borrowed for a while. I'll give them back, I promise – apart from passing a little time with them, I have made no profit from this endeavour – so please don't come looking for me.

Summary: Sam starts out looking for revenge, but Dean has something to say about that.

Warning: Character Death (lots of Dean and Sam angst)

Rating: some swearing (naughty boys! Wash their mouths out)

Author's Note: Apologies for delay in posting - haven't been able to post anything since Chapter 6 went up but site seems to be friends with me again and seems to be letting me post - thank you to whoever helped with that. Thanks to those people who have left reviews. I'd appreciate feedback on this and chapter 8 which I will post later today - not sure if I've rounded the story up right or not, so constructive feedback would be gratefully received.

Chapter 7 – Sometimes talking helps

Dawn came slowly as Dean watched the world awaken outside the window, Mom had called him strong, being able to be with Sam and talk to him but he wasn't so sure. He realised that if he went any distance from Sam, he lost touch with his edges, felt like maybe he was dissipating. Maybe it wasn't about him at all. Maybe he wasn't here because this was where he wanted to be but rather because Sam wanted him here. Not that it mattered; he wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else. It was just good to know, you know, just in case. After all, maybe it meant if Sam got fed up and didn't want him around anymore, he would actually go and then what?

Mom had gone again. They'd talked for ages last night. Funny he thought she seemed better at the end of it. He was surprised at the way it seemed to work, for everything he'd reminded her of it seemed to have triggered other memories that she had then told him about. They'd talked about bringing Sam home for the first time from the hospital, the new house in Lawrence, playing with Sam, singing to Sam, favourite stories that he had read to Sam after she had gone. She had seemed to be vibrating, ready to spin out of control at first but the longer they'd talked the more together she seemed to become, calmer, more like the Mom he remembered which could only be a good thing. She'd promised to return later after Sam woke to help persuade him not to go after Dad. He felt better about that as well.

He wondered where she went when she wasn't here. Was she with Dad? Did she know about the sort of stretched feeling? Maybe she could explain it to him. So many questions, no answers. Dean thought how 'up' he'd felt yesterday, surprising considering he'd just died but now he didn't feel right at all, lost came into it, but didn't begin to cover it.

Sam stirred on the bed behind him. He looked over his shoulder, registered 'not awake yet', then turned back to the world outside. Sam had slept well. All this time of nightmares, of both of them sleeping badly waiting for the next one to hit and now Dean was surprised at the vague sense of hurt he felt that he'd died and Sam seemed to be sleeping better than ever. What did that say about him?

'Dean?' Half asleep still, but definitely moving now.

'Yeah, I'm here.'

'You okay?'

'Course. What could be the matter? You?'

'I slept well.'

'I noticed.'

'I was thinking about you.'

'What?'

'How when I was a kid, I used to climb into your bed and you'd hold me until I fell asleep. I used to pretend that you stayed awake all night watching, keeping me safe. It was kind of like that last night, knowing you were awake, watching, looking out for me.'

'Always, Sam.'

'Bit old for the same bed bit now.'

'Too tall, bro, too tall.' Dean wondered if somehow Sam had known what he'd been thinking. 'You getting up?'

'Yeah, you?'

'Already am. Just watching the world go by.'

'Anything interesting?'

'No. Nice day though weather wise, I'd guess. You going to get ready? We all need to talk.'

'All?'

'Mom's… Mom's coming round in a bit.'

'Dean, you okay?'

'Course.'

'You're quiet this morning, kind of subdued.'

'Sam, don't worry. I'm just getting used to this whole 'being a ghost' gig. Don't worry.' But Sam could tell it lacked conviction. Dean was not himself right now but Sam had to admit, dying would take some getting used to, so maybe Dean was off just now, but he would be fine when he got used to it.

'Where is she?'

'Don't know. But she came by when you were asleep and she said she'll come back. Get a shift on.'

'What time?'

'No idea – after you woke up she said.'

'Right, shower then.'

Dean went back to watching through the window.

Dean watched as Sam left in search of breakfast, Mom hadn't come round yet, so he figured he could go get something to eat. Dean said he'd stay. He didn't really feel like going out, he didn't really feel like doing anything. Even the world outside the window had lost its appeal, but he didn't move, just remained standing at the window staring aimlessly out.

'Dean?'

'You're back?'

'What's the matter, honey?'

'When you're not here, where do you go?'

'All over.'

'Why am I here?'

'You're with Sammy.'

'It's Sam now, Mom. He grew up and didn't like Sammy anymore. Why though, why am I with him?'

'I thought this is where you wanted to be?'

'Yeah, I do, but why did I get it?'

'What do you mean, baby?' She stepped forward putting her hand on his shoulder drawing his attentionback from the window and turning him to face her. She led him to sit down on the bed and sat opposite him watching as his eyes trailed round the room restlessly.

'Sam's gone for breakfast.'

'I saw him go. I've been watching you, Dean. You've been at the window for hours. What's the matter?'

'Sam will be back soon.'

'No. He won't. I spoke to him. I told him to give us some time. He's worried about you today.'

'I'm fine.'

'No, you're not. What are you worrying about? You don't change, baby, when you were little, you had this little frown when you were thinking hard. It's still there.' She ran her finger across his forehead as if to smooth out the frown lines.

Dean stood, heading back to the window.

'Dean, talk to me.'

'Am I here because it's what I want or is it because it's what Sam wants?'

'Baby, it's what you both want.'

'So what happens when he doesn't need me anymore? Where do I go then?'

'You'll come with me.'

'Mom? When I'm not with Sam, I don't feel right. I feel like I can't find my edges. I just sort of spread thinner and thinner. I feel things and I don't think it's me that's feeling it really. I get confused.'

'Ssh! Dean, it's okay. It'll be fine.'

'Am I just going to go…?' Dean waved vaguely out into the emptiness beyond the window. He turned the full force of his gaze on his mother's ghost. 'Without Sam…' she could feel and hear the fear he exuded.

'Dean, give me your hands. I can help you.' She smiled as he held one hand out, she took it in her own and watched as he put the other on the window and his gaze drifted that way. 'No, Dean, I need both hands and I need you looking at me.'

His hand dropped from the window to his side, Mary grasped it to her. 'Dean, look at me, think of me. Think of good things we used to do. You and me together.' She saw a flicker of confusion until he settled on a memory. 'No sweetheart, that memory's no good for this. I liked it when we tucked Sammy up but you need something that's just you and me.'

The confusion was back in his face. 'Just for this, Dean, you and me, no Sam.' She could see him try again. His features calmed as another memory began to play out. She smiled, she remembered that day at the park when his persistence had finally paid off and he'd managed to scale to the very top of the castle-shaped climbing frame alone. It had taken weeks of effort. He'd overcome his fear of heights, his fear of falling. On each visit to the park, he'd made it a little bit higher on his own. 'I remember that, Dean, it was a good day. I was so proud of you but that won't do.'

'Why not?' the growled response was almost irritable.

'Just look what happened when you got to the top.'

The memory rolled on, he reached the top, got his balance. Dean could remember the exhilaration and turning to shout down, 'Sammy, Mom, look at me. Sammy, I've done it.'

'Sam,' he whispered.

'Yes. Think further back before Sam was born.'

She followed as his thoughts settled on another happy memory. It was another good one but still no good. She remembered it had been the moment she realised that Dean was going to be a great big brother. She had nothing to worry about; he wasn't going to be jealous or nasty. He'd be able to share. 'Dean, no Sammy, remember.'

'There is no Sammy, it was Dad's birthday, and we were making a cake. You hadn't had Sam then.'

'Do you remember we talked about him coming?'

'Did we?'

'You asked me if I ate the cake, would the baby taste it too and should we put extra sprinkles on for the baby.'

'It was a stupid question.'

'No, it wasn't. That was the day I knew you'd be great as a big brother.'

'He was kicking you.'

'Babies do that.'

'That was what you said then, I…' his head dropped.

'You put your hand where his foot was and told him not to kick so hard because…'

'Because you were a special Mommy and we had to look after you.' She saw his features crumble, his hands snatched back, covering his face as his body slumped to the floor. He sat against the end of the bed, knees drawn up, arms on top, head resting on them.

'Dean, come here.'

'Leave me.'

'No. Let me help.'

'You can't.'

'Dean.'

'Leave me. Go.'

'No. I won't do that. I won't leave you here like this.'

'Why not? I don't deserve you staying.'

'Dean, why would you say that? It's not true.'

'You all left me and Mom,' his pain-filled eyes came up to look at her as his voice dropped to a whisper, 'I don't remember anything else. I made it up to tell Sam, to tell him what a Mom was like; I don't remember what was true anymore.'

She took him in her arms and rocked him gently. 'I'm sorry, Dean. Let me help, let me remind you.' She thought back to days spent in the garden, playing ball, times spent curled up together with a favourite book, shopping trips for Christmas presents, making sandwiches together and picking the fillings out and shared those memories with her eldest son. Yesterday, he had rescued her from a brink she hadn't realised she'd reached, stopped her becoming something she never wanted to be and today, she tried to heal a lifetime of hurt and loss and rebuild her son, give him back the strength she had seen in him.

Eventually, she felt him relax, the tension easing from his body.

'I wasn't sure…'

'You had so much to do Dean, you were so little. I understand. Now you know for sure what it was like, why it was so good.'

'Thank you.'

'Now, listen to me. Whenever you need to come to me, when you feel like you're spreading too thin, think about one of those memories, hold it real tight in your mind and don't get distracted. It will bring us together.'

'If I do, will I be able to come back here to Sam too?'

'Always, Dean. Even if Sam doesn't need you anymore, you can come check he's okay. Same with Dad, just think of them. But remember, I'll always see you, I'll always talk to you, now I can always be here for you.'

'You're telling me Dad won't see or hear me and that this is just a passing thing with Sam.'

'With your Dad probably. He was never good at listening to us when we were alive, was he?' She was pleased to see the corner of his lips quirk into a smile, 'I don't know about Sam, he's different. The two of you together make it different.'