Disclaimer: It depends; I don't own them in real life, but in my dreams...
Summary: Alternative ending for Provenance, so mind the spoilers! Brother's angst, nervous breakdown...I hope you like it ;-) Oh, and character's death involved (evil laugh).
I have to say I'm overwhelmed by the response to the first installemnt. Thanks so much to all of you! I hope you like what's next! Thanks to Emrys too. Always ;-) If you have the time, check out her work; her latest fanfic is "Not talking about it", and it's really good. (Find it at Supernatural Best C2!)
UNANSWERED CALLS
Previously
Then, he spotted something… no, someone sprawled awkwardly on the floor, in between the piano and the cabinet, over a pool of blood. His eyes lingered on the form, and his heart skipped a beat when he was able to make out a familiar face under the long, honey-brown bangs of hair.
Sammy…
Chapter 2
The world stopped moving. Time froze. A dizzying buzz came out of nowhere and made Dean's senses numb. He parted his lips and gasped for air, but it was as if a knot had blocked his throat and a rock was rolling over his chest. His lips trembled but voiced no sound.
Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…
He knew he had to react. However, dozens of images of a lifetime with Sam were already flashing in his mind and blending with the terrible scene in front of him. Dean was unable to stop them. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he couldn't think. And breathing was no longer an option, since any fight for survival in him seemed to have left his body the moment he'd found his little brother lying on the floor.
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…
It probably lasted no more than two or three seconds, but Dean would remember it as the longest three seconds of his life. Because his eyes were fastened on his brother, it was finally sight, of all his senses, that registered that Sam was moving. Dean's heart jolted, and he blinked away the tears that blurred his vision.
"Sam?" he croaked.
Sam didn't answer, and during an appalling instant, Dean feared he had just imagined him moving. But he hadn't. Now that the first moment of shock had passed, Dean could clearly see that Sam was rocking slowly in the dark. An intense wave of relief made Dean's knees wobble, but the older hunter rushed to his brother's side anyway. He found himself torn between the urge to hold him tight against his chest and sob his heart out on his shoulder and the fear-fueled anger that prompted him to rip Sam's head off for giving him such a fright.
"Shit, man! What's your problem? You forget how to answer a fucking phon…"
Dean's voice fell, and he stopped dead in his tracks when Sam looked up to him with glazed eyes. It was then that Dean realized Sam was cradling Sarah's head in his lap. She was pale, too pale, and her eyes were unanimated and fixed on the ceiling. A thin thread of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but other than that, her lips were completely drained of color. Dean swallowed back the nausea when he noticed that the girl's throat had been slashed. Her torso was covered in blood. Sam was covered in blood. Sarah's blood was everywhere.
At a loss for words, Dean kneeled in front of Sam and could only gape at Sarah's lifeless body. Suddenly aware of the thick, metallic smell that filled his nostrils, the weight of responsibility fell heavily onto the older hunter's shoulders. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he had been too late, that he had been too slow, and because of it, an innocent woman had died. If only he had gotten to the mausoleum a minute before, or if he hadn't hesitated before shooting the glass window that kept the doll, maybe Sarah would still be alive. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and placed it on Sarah's neck in a self-delusional search for a pulse.
"She's…I couldn't…" Sam stammered.
Dean gulped and raised his eyes to meet his brother's. Sam's expression was beyond devastated. Long-spent tears had left traces of diluted blood across his red stained cheeks, and he held a vacant look that gave Dean the chills. The older hunter shook his head slightly and clung onto the relief of knowing he wasn't checking for Sam's pulse instead of Sarah's. It did little to ease his remorse, but while Dean was pretty sure he could live with remorse, he was just as sure he couldn't live without Sam.
"Are you hurt?" Dean asked hoarsely.
Sam showed no reaction. He just stared at his brother emptily and then looked back at Sarah's face before resuming his absent rocking. Dean could see the kid was in shock and, realizing that his question wasn't going to be answered, made a closer examination of his little brother. It was hard to tell if Sam was injured, since there was too much blood everywhere, and Sam's skin and clothes were also spattered with it. He seemed to have some minor cuts on his arms, hands and face. Pieces of glass were also scattered in his ruffled hair. Dean warily glanced at the smashed cabinet over Sam's head and then reached out to grab Sam's shoulders.
"C'mon, we need to get you out of here", he said, shaking him gently.
Sam shuddered at Dean's touch, then stiffened,held Sarah even tighter, and rocked more noticeably.
"No…" the younger man muttered in a small voice.
"Sam," Dean said, trying to regain his attention.
The younger Winchester didn't respond, and Dean bit his lip hard. How long had Sam been holding onto the dead body like that? How long had it taken Dean to get back to him? Dean shifted one hand to cup his brother's face and simultaneously squeezed Sam's shoulder with the other.
"Sammy, c'mon. Stop it," Dean coaxed him. "It's okay now."
"No, it's not okay. It's not okay! She's dead. Dead," Sam hissed.
As fresh tears sprung from his baby brother's eyes, Dean felt the need to wipe them away with his thumb, just as he wanted to run a hand into his brother's hair to get rid of those tiny pieces of glass that defiled it, or to stroke his cheeks to clean the blood. He would give or do anything to erase Sam's troubled look and get him to stop shaking. However, Dean refrained himself. Winchesters didn't do things like that, and he was unsure of how Sam would react.
"I know," the older brother said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."
Sam's lower lip quivered and he ground his teeth to control the trembling. Dean clumsily rewarded his brother's efforts to keep it together with a mild smile, but it froze on his lips when Sam intently looked at him with a haunted gaze.
"I told you we should have left her out of this," Sam said in a strangled tone. "I knew this was going to happen. I told you I didn't want to involve her!"
Taken by surprise, Dean flinched and shook his head in disbelief. Sam was blaming him? A pang of guilt clenched the pit of Dean's stomach, and he felt the bile rising up his throat.
He's right. It's my fault...It's my...
Wait, no. He knew Sam better than that. And he knew that look. The kid couldn't possibly think that...
"Sam, it's not your fault," Dean said firmly.
Sam shut his eyes and started breathing in short gasps.
"Sam!" Dean repeated. Despite himself, his voice sounded increasingly harsh, because Sam was starting to freak him out. "It's not your fault!"
"You don't understand."
"You don't understand! Dude, you said it yourself. We can't save everyone!"
"I didn't "not save her"! I put her in danger!"
"She walked into the house voluntarily! She walked into the house knowing what we do and what could be inside!"
"You think it's her fault?"
"I don't think it's anybody's fault! I think it's that damn painting's fault! Shit happens, okay? You know that!"
"No!" Sam cried.
Sam jerked away from Dean's hold and, shaking uncontrollably, bent forwards over Sarah's body. Dean couldn't remember feeling so damn helpless in his whole life. He wasn't good at dealing with emotional breakdowns, because nobody had taught him how to handle them. Dean always felt responsible when he failed to save someone. Too often he felt really bad, and guilt-ridden, brooding episodes weren't unfamiliar to him. But he was also used to sucking things up and moving on, no matter what. That's how Winchesters coped, that was what Sam was supposed to do. Actually, that was what Sam had done after Jessica's death, and Jessica had been the love of his life. Watching as his brother's fell apart right in front of him, was something Dean was not ready to deal with. It was too scary, and Dean knew only one way to fight fear.
Enough.
Call the hunter back into action.
"Sam, let go of her," Dean commanded.
When Jessica had died, Sam had had nothing to cling onto. But now, with the solidity of Sarah's body still evident, he apparently wasn't going to give in so easily. When the authoritarian tone elicited no response, Dean grabbed his brother's arms firmly. Dean was ready to disentangle him from Sarah by force if necessary, but Sam fought him and kept a deadly grip on the girl's limp body.
"No!"
"Sam, you need to let go of her, now!" Dean said, this time raising his voice.
"No!" Sam's voice matched his brother's yell in volume.
"She's not Jessica. You hear me? Sam, she's NOT Jessica!"
Sam's next breath broke into a sob.
"I know that! But I killed them both!" he cried. "I killed them, just like I killed Mom!"
Dean's heart raced, but before he had time to let Sam's words sink in, he noticed that his little brother's grip had weakened for a split second. It was enough for Dean to shift himself and gain the upper hand in the struggle.
TBC
You didn't think I'd kill Sam, right? Having Sarah as potential victim? No way! Next episode in two days. I hope you had fun! If you did, please review!
