Disclaimer: see chapter 1...
Thanks for reading if you've continued past the first chapter. This will be completed soon (I hope...work and life have been hectic). I wrote the first chapter not long after watching the finale and continued after seeing the stuff from Comic-Con International. It seems to have taken on a life of it's own. I hope it does the Supernatural world justice and, even though it will wind up being obsolete once Season 6 comes back, I hope it works for all you fans out there!
Please review, whether you hate it or love it! Thanks again!
Sam Winchester remembers Hell. Not the same way that his older brother Dean did after spending 4 months in the pit before being pulled out by the angel, Castiel. Sam remembers Hell in flashes, like a strobe light at a Techno club. He hears the screams of the damned; feels the dry heat baking his skin; tastes the sulphur and gore that permeate the air around him. Then the memories are gone and all he can hear is the clanging of the piece of junk car he bought for three hundred bucks the month before. All he can feel is the cool Fall breeze coming through the window, ruffling his long brown hair around his forehead and into his eyes. The air smells of leaves and rain, tastes metallic but only in the pleasant, electric way that happens before a thunderstorm.
There is a rumble of thunder that rolls across the sky as the storm advances. Black clouds hang low on the horizon and as the first strike of lightning leaves a ghostly blue line in the middle of Sam's vision, the rain begins. Fat drops slowly hit the torn upholstery of the door frame, leaving brown stains of moisture on the tan interior. It takes some of Sam's considerable upper body strength to get the old, rusted window closed before the rain gets heavier, turning from a meandering drizzle to a full on downpour.
The car's tires are so bald that it makes driving treacherous, so much so that it forces Sam to pull to the side of the road and wait for the storm to pass. It's not a place he wants to be. Stopping means thinking and thinking means Dean. It's been two months since Sam found himself topside, lying on his side in the middle of Stull Cemetery with no idea how or why he was pulled from Hell. Two months since he made the trip to Ohio and stood outside in the dark shadows watching Dean as he attempted to have a family dinner with Lisa and Ben.
The sight had shot needles through Sam's heart, tore a hole in his chest. The entire trip to Cicero, Sam had told himself that whatever he would see would make him happy. That what he would find in the picturesque town would set his mind at ease and allow him to move on. But he was unprepared for the actual pain that sight would cause him.
It had been many years since Dean had scoffed at Sam's desire for an "apple pie life" while on their first hunt together in Jericho, California. Six years since Sam had defended his need for normal, his hope for a career as a lawyer and, someday, husband and father. Six long, agonizing years since Jess was ripped from his life by the demons who had been circling Sam since before he was even born. And after all that time, here his big brother was, living that very life.
Sam had stood watching Dean through the bay windows as he talked to Lisa, smiled at Ben, sipped from the glass in his hands as they rested over the dinner plate. He'd stood there for what seemed like hours, hidden in the darkness like a prowler, just watching the family unit that had developed almost overnight. It filled Sam's eyes with tears and turned his stomach to stone.
It wasn't jealousy or anger that affected Sam; that was something he didn't think he could ever feel towards Dean. Not after all that his older brother had done for him, not after all the terrible things Sam had done to Dean. No, what Sam felt, truly felt at the sight of Dean at a dinner table in a white clapboard house with a cookie cutter lawn, was relief. Dean had finally done something that Sam had asked of him. He'd finally thrown in the towel with their whole messed up life and went for something he'd always secretly wanted: a normal life.
With the vision of Dean looking somewhat happy burned into his brain, Sam had finally turned around and walked away. It was the hardest thing Sam had ever done, even after saying yes to Lucifer and battling with the fallen angel for control of his body as it beat Dean to a certain death. But it was something that Sam knew he had to do. He had to give Dean the chance at normal that Sam himself had been denied so cruelly years before.
The guilt of letting Dean think Sam was trapped in Hell, suffering just like Dean had the year before, was something Sam was determined to swallow down, something he was prepared to carry for the rest of his life. As Sam faded away into the black night, a weight was finally lifted from his heart, one Sam had never truly thought would ever leave him.