Still don't own 'em.
o0o
Sam didn't know what to say. How to say: "I thought I knew you, but man was I wrong!' without offending his brother. How to even begin to say: "sorry, I always just thought you were a dumb jerk, pain-in-the-ass older brother who couldn't possibly understand me, or where I'm coming from" without sounding like an arrogant prick. How to say: "yes, Chris showed me all your deep, dark secrets, but I don't think you're a horrible person, bitch" without any negative overtones colouring his words.
And Sam realized, as Dean could not, that Chris hadn't shown Sam all of Dean's deep dark secrets: he hadn't seen the first monsters Dean had killed, he hadn't been shown any of Dean's perceived failures, he still didn't know why Dean's eyes had bled. Chris had been very careful in what he showed Sam, he'd stayed away from the hunts and the training and the eventual fights between the various Winchesters over the years. Chris hadn't shown Sam much of their family 'job'; he'd shown Sam more of just his family.
And Dean had no idea which of his secrets and choices had been revealed, didn't know how he'd been portrayed to his younger brother. Dean, who prided himself on being self-sufficient, on not leaning on anyone, even Sammy, more than he absolutely had to, and who had made an art form out of appearing to calmly accept and adapt to the consequences of his decisions and actions, had left himself open to Sam's criticism of the way he was, the way he acted and the choices he'd made.
He'd left himself completely vulnerable to his brother. And Sam knew Dean hated it. Hated feeling exposed, hated the perceived weakness, hated putting himself at risk with no weapons at hand to save himself if his brother didn't respect him any more. If his brother was ready to cut him loose again.
One of the many things that Chris had said crystallized for Sam at that moment: Dean was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. Again.
Even though Dean should have known that Sam would always believe in him, even though Dean should have been able to be sure of his brother's continued belief, continued love and respect, Dean was standing there uncertain, braced for the worst, because he'd never had the luxury of being sure about anything.
Even though they'd grown up together, even though they'd lived through the same awful events, Sam had grown up knowing he was cherished and protected and knowing that John and Dean would provide their own peculiar brand of stability. More so Dean than John. Especially Dean. Dean had never had that. Dean had grown up perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was still waiting.
And now he was waiting for judgment, for his sentence to be passed, and was shoring himself up to deal with whatever Sammy offered him.
And that hurt. It hurt that Dean had no expectations of Sam, had no faith, didn't have enough trust in his younger brother. Really Dean should know better…
Ok, maybe he should stop thinking about himself and about how he saw things and realize that just Dean standing there was Dean displaying his own level of trust, that Dean was still giving to Sam, was still putting Sam first and would abide by however Sam defined their continued relationship.
It was an awesome amount of responsibility to shoulder and it humbled Sam that Dean would let anyone have that much power over him. But Dean's world was still Sammy first, John second, Dean last, so he'd take what Sammy gave him and adapt accordingly. Even if it meant going their separate ways.
Man, that still didn't mean that Sam had any clue what to say…
"You got 1540 on your SATs? Man, I can't believe it." Oh great, start with Dean's rejection of Sam's ideal 'get-out-of-jail-free' card.
Dean spared a narrowed glance at Chris, and just raised an eyebrow, still waiting.
"Yeah, so?"
"So, I didn't know that…" Sam trailed off lamely. Dean just continued to look at him. Waiting.
He took a deep breath, tried again.
"So… so Mom called you 'sunshine'"
Ok, that was better. Dean's mouth quirked up at the corner.
"Yeah, she did, 'Sam-sam'. What of it?"
"Well, I didn't know that. I didn't know she liked heavy metal, I didn't know she wasn't much of a cook, I didn't know she smoked."
"Yeah, well, she did."
Yep, this conversation was going nowhere fast. Sam would just have to come right out and say it. Subtle didn't work with Dean.
"Dean, I still respect you, dude. I still think you're the most awesome big brother anywhere, I don't think any less of you, no matter what Chris showed me."
Dean didn't say anything back, but his stance relaxed minutely, and a flash of moisture in his eyes was quickly blinked away as the cocky, arrogant infuriating persona surfaced: Dean's coping mechanism for anything too emotionally volatile.
"Was there ever any doubt, dude?"
But Sam didn't want to hear it, didn't want the façade, he wanted his brother: the one who had pretended there were enough Christmas presents for the both of them, the one who made training fun and who made learning Latin incantations into a game, the one who never let Sammy know that human monsters like Morse existed.
He cut Dean off before he got any further.
"Shut up, jerk. Chris didn't show me anything about hunting, anything illegal or anything like where you learned to hustle pool. He showed me about you and Dad trying to take care of me in your own ways. Both of you. He showed me that you didn't give up on college because of me and dad, you just didn't want to go, and you didn't have the same safety net as me as you were busy being my safety net. Chris was trying to show me that yeah, you are a good little soldier, but it's a choice that you made willfully, and that it's not all that you are."
Sam glared at his brother as he paused to collect his thoughts. He held up his hand to forestall whatever Dean was about to say; he wasn't finished yet.
"Chris showed me that you've been looking out for me my whole life, and not just since the fire. He reminded me that it's because of you that I even know what normal is. And he reminded me that it's because of you that I know what family is – because of you and dad, in his own way. And he showed me how lucky I was to have two people constantly having my back my whole life. And he showed me how much work you put into making sure we were a family.
"I've always kinda thought that I was a burden, holding you back and that if you hadn't had to worry about me, then you could have gotten out a long time ago, and that you must resent me for taking up so much of your time and energy and must have hated having to always worry about whether I was looked after, babysat, fed, tucked in and put to bed, amongst all the other things you had to do. And Chris showed me a lot of those other things you had to do, like laundry and cooking and grocery shopping. All those times when Dad left us and went hunting by himself to keep us safe from things like Hell Hounds, and left you to take care of me, keep up with training and school and deal with creeps like Morse."
Dean was too well trained to flinch, but he broke eye contact with his brother and started to turn to the window.
"No, Dean, you don't get it." Sam stopped Dean's turn away with a hand on his shoulder; he needed his brother to hear him, to listen. "What Chris showed me is that we look out for each other, that dad in his own fucked-up way did take care of us, and did teach us how to take care of ourselves. I wouldn't wish our lives on anyone, but I know that all three of us have done the best we could under the circumstances. And we're family. Ok, we're not anybody's idea of an ideal: we're not Ward and Beaver and Wally Cleaver, but we're not the Menedez brothers either. We just are.
"And I know now I wasn't a burden, that I wasn't what was keeping you back. You didn't want more than what you had, you just wanted your family. Your family which included one emotionally retarded, revenge-obsessed but doing the best that he can dad, and one constantly questioning, never satisfied with what he had, pesky younger brother. And I get now that you don't feel gypped, cheated and that you don't need normal, whatever that is. You have what you need, and you like what you're doing. I get that."
Sam paused, remembering his family, truly remembering. Some of the wonder of his enforced 'education' coloured his next words.
"Man, Chris showed me so much more of our family. I saw mom, for the first time as a real person, I saw Dad before the demon came, I saw you as a goofy carefree kid, and I watched you become the care-laden, can take on anything and anyone kick-ass soldier and older brother. It was amazing. I never knew… Man, there are so many things I didn't know, and I thought I knew everything, you know? But I didn't. Did you know that mom had a tattoo on her ankle? And that she couldn't sing but dad could? I never knew that she liked heavy metal too, and that you grew up listening to it for the first four years of your life – I always just thought you had lousy taste in music; now I know that it's something that reminds you of mom, something that ties you to her."
Dean's startled glance at Sam was the only indication that Dean hadn't ever really thought about why he liked heavy metal, it just was. But it made sense. And he did know about the tattoo, it was a tattoo for him after all, but like a great many memories from childhood he hadn't thought about it and it had drifted away as more time had passed. Now that Sam had mentioned it, he could easily see it, mostly bluey-green ink on the pale skin, a stylized sun with flames reaching out. A tattoo that she told him would always remind her of him. He looked away as his eyes threatened to water. His mama had been one of a kind. And now Sammy knew that too.
He wondered what tattoo she would have gotten for Sammy. Maybe a big question mark.
Dean fought the smile that wanted to take over his face and felt himself relaxing. It was going to be ok. His trust in Chris hadn't been misplaced, it apparently had been worth it, and it seemed to have given Sammy some badly needed answers. He'd never been able to really convey to Sammy all that his mother had been, he'd never been able to capture his mother for Sammy to understand just what he and John, and Sammy too, had lost. But Sam had finally seen his parents as real people and not just as a reflection of what one indelible moment in 1983 had made them. Hopefully this glimpse into their family would let Sam see that he wasn't alone, that in a world filled with demons and evil that his family would be there for him as best they knew how, and that he wasn't the only one who'd had to learn to cope with more than anyone should ever have to. And maybe now Sam would stop whining about what he didn't have and start appreciating all the things he did have.
But Dean wasn't holding his breath. He wouldn't be Sammy otherwise.
Sam had stopped his revelations and still had his hand on Dean's shoulder, but his gaze wasn't focused on his brother any more, he was still looking at the past: their past. Dean watched as his little brother's face broke out into a true, unguarded smile. He watched as Sammy for once thought of his own family without pain or anguish. And he watched as Sam slowly came back to the present and beamed at his older brother.
Dean spared another quick glance for Chris, who knowing Dean as he did, smirked and turned slightly away. Dean looked back at his brother, who didn't hate him, who wasn't going anywhere yet, and who still had his back, even when Dean would rather be left alone.
And Dean put Sam's need for reassurance ahead of his own need to avoid chick-flick moments, and gave Sam what he needed the most: a hug. A fierce, bone-crushing, life-affirming, we're both still here, damnnit, hug.
Oh, who was he kidding: they both needed it.
Chris silently watched as the brothers proved one of the Winchester credos: that actions really did speak louder than words. He smiled softly to himself as he was a rare witness to a true moment of understanding and equanimity between the brothers.
He mentally congratulated himself, and quietly faded out of the room. His work here was done.
o0o
THE END
there will be an epilogue