17032020
A small little piece that suddenly appeared tonight and wouldn't let me ignore it so I abandoned all else and wrote it down.
WISH YOU WERE HERE
It was a suicide mission, they both knew it but neither admitted it out loud.
"So first beers on you?" Sam said to his brother as they performed the last minute weapons check.
"You know it!" Dean said with his trademark smirk as he pushed through the door.
Sam watched him go before he headed off in the other direction.
He never saw his brother again.
All he ever found was blood, a shredded shirt and a chunk of something Sam didn't want to think about.
…
Sam trudged down the bunker staircase, each step an echoing reminder he was alone. Not stopping until he was in his room he sat on the edge of his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. Jaw clenched tightly to stop the quivering he refused to think about never seeing his brother again. He refused to acknowledge the bunker, which he had called home with his brother for years, that always felt warm and alive, now felt oppressively cold, pushing in on him from every angle. One fact he couldn't ignore was that he couldn't even give his brother the hunters funeral he so richly deserved.
Fucking Monsters!
…
Days passed as Sam roamed the halls of the bunker, wandering into one room and out again. The one exception was Deans room. Sam never entered it. He closed the door tightly the first time he walked past it and had even moved his own bedroom so he would never again pass that empty cavern. Dark and quiet, a stark reminder that Dean would never lay on that bed again, blasting his wretched classic rock loud enough to drive Sam to distraction. God how Sam missed that.
…
He'd finally made phone calls. First Jody and then Donna. After that he just couldn't say the words anymore. Both women had offered Sam a room for as long as he needed but Sam refused. As cold and lonely as the bunker now was, leaving it seemed like abandoning Deans memory. Both wanted to come and spend time with him, worried about him being alone, but Sam argued he had to get used to it, so the sooner he did, the better.
…
Fourteen days to the day after Sam lost his brother a hesitant knock came on the bunker door. Sam was sitting in an armchair in the library, not doing anything, just staring at the pistol in his hands. He heard the knock but chose to ignore it. Unfortunately the person on the other side of the door didn't agree with Sams decision and knocked again louder. Sighing, he stood and carefully placed the unloaded weapon on the table. He had forgotten he was even holding it, unsure why he had picked it up in the first place.
He had avoided this cursed staircase since he returned. Each footsteps resounding echo just as soul crushing ascending as they were when he descended. Finally he reached the top and opened the door.
Standing on the other side was a slightly startled UPS driver.
"Wow dude! I was beginning to think I had been pranked. Almost didn't come to the door but you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat! Truth be told I just wanted to see what was behind it." The guy said trying to look past Sams massive frame. Finally the driver looked at Sam, startled out of his verbal musings by the dead eyed look of misery on Sams face. "Oh! Right, well this is for you"
He held out a small parcel. Sam flicked his eyes down to it but it took his brain a few moments to process that he was supposed to take it from the outstretched hand. He finally made his hand reach out and accept it.
"Just gotta sign here." The man said holding a clipboard and pen out.
Sam took the pen and put a slash of ink through the form then turned away.
"Hey dude? Are you okay?"
Sam heard the words but ignored them as he slammed the door. Walking back down the stairs he glanced at the box in his hands. Not knowing what it could be, he was just going to throw it on a shelf because right now he couldn't deal with anything his brother might have bought online. Not because he thought it was going to be inappropriate but because the reminder Dean would never be here to open it was more than he could handle right now.
He dropped the box top of a cupboard and made to walk away but a final glance had him double taking and walking back. The box was addressed to him. With shaking hands, Sam picked it up and examined the handwriting that he would recognise anywhere. It was the same writing that had filled in enrolment forms and permission slips, wrote absent notes and completed medical forms his whole life. It was Deans.
Same eyes filled with tears as his hand came up to cover his mouth as if to hold in the sob that was trying to escape. Shaking his head slightly, Sam sniffed and pulled every ounce of strength to the surface. Steeling himself he opened the box and took out the contents.
Staring at the bottle of beer in his hand he managed a single laugh before it dissolved into sobs. Just small shakes of his shoulders at first before the tears spilled free and he fell to the ground, shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he released harsh, shuddering cries of sorrow and despair. Clutching that single bottle to his chest he released everything he had been holding in.
As the tears fell to the ground, joining their fallen comrades pooling on the floor before Sam, he failed to notice two steel capped boots appear in front of him. He didn't resist when two strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly at first then raising him to his feet. He was vaguely aware of the gently hand that guided his head to rest against a broad familiar shoulder.
"It's okay Sammy, I got you." The deep voice rumbled through the strong chest finally reaching his ears. "I'm here now."
Sam slowly lifted his head. Not believing what he was seeing he stepped back.
"No." He said, shaking his head.
He must have been hallucinating. That was the only explanation. He wasn't eating and the toll of that and the emotional breakdown was surely the reason he was seeing the impossible. The bruised and swollen yet familiar face in front of him just smiled and nodded.
"Dean?"
Dean smiled.
"Hiya, Sammy. First beers on me." He said pointing to the bottle still pressed tightly to Sams chest.
…
***Hallucination, ghost or miraculous escape...I'll leave that up to you. Let me know which one you believe it is.****
17032020