Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I also do not own the title--it belongs to Jimmy Eat World.
Author's Note: Thank you for all the feedback on the last chapter! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
Read and review please!!
Summary: A hunt goes wrong, landing both Winchesters in the hospital, one within an inch of death, the other regretting all the choices he has made. With help from an angel, Dean gets to see what would have happened if Jake hadn't killed Sam all those years ago in Cold Oak.
Polaris
Chapter 2Dean heard the door close as Bobby left to go get coffee. He hadn't meant to ignore the elder hunter like that, but after seeing Sam like this, after hearing about his injuries… it was all too surreal. This couldn't be happening, he kept telling himself. They hadn't signed up for this. It was supposed to be a werewolf for god's sake, not a freaking cult of demons, two spirits, and the damned werewolf pack in the middle of a shadowy forest with dark cliffs and freaking caves. It wasn't supposed to be another episode of… Dean tried to force himself not to think of it. But he couldn't help it.
Dean had always remembered every single detail from that night. He always had and for as long as he lived and for as long as it took for him to forget every single bit of humanity he had left, he always would. He remembered that it was 12:01 when it happened. He remembered the smell in the air. It stunk like sulfur, for there had been demons abound there. It had been muddy as a pig sty due to all the rain that had been falling and the rain that was still falling. Sam had been wearing his favorite brown Carrhart jacket, a white checkered shirt, dark jeans, and his brown boots. Dean remembered calling his brother's name and feeling that intense rush of joy when he heard his own name in response. He had studied his brother, taking in all the injuries; everything, from the dislocated shoulder, to the painful wince at every inhale that indicated broken ribs. Dean remembered the horror… the terror… the wordless emotion he felt when he saw Jake pick up the knife and drive it in Sam's back. The agonizing, indescribable pain he felt when he held his brother die. The hopelessness. The anger at the world. At the injustice of it all. He remembered every detail from that night two years ago.
Dr. Clapper had said that Sam had broken four ribs, dislocated his shoulder, a concussion, and a stab wound. Two years ago, Sam had received four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and a stab wound in almost the same manner as he had tonight. Dean had never believed in coincidences and tonight was no exception. Everything happened for a reason. The fact that Sam had been injured in exactly the same manner as he had the night that all hell broke loose the first time had happened for a reason.
"You are right," a grave voice said from behind Dean, interrupting the elder Winchester brother's musings.
Dean turned to find the familiar dark haired angel standing behind him. Feelings of hatred, of loss, of pain, of sadness welled up inside of him, filling him to brim. He longed to lash out at someone, something, to get rid of the pit inside he was feeling. And had felt ever since that night two years ago when he had held his dying baby brother in his arms.
"For once, I would love to say I'm glad to see you, Cass, I really would," Dean said hoarsely. Tears stung the back of his eyes as he turned back to Sam. "But every time I see you, I always end up hating myself and distrusting my brother. And after tonight, I don't—I can't deal with that."
"Dean," Castiel said softly.
"What do you want, Cass?" Dean demanded. His voice, though no louder than a whisper, carried an undercurrent of malice to it.
"I want to help you," Castiel said. "I want to help you save your brother, Dean. I want to help you save Sam."
"You're two years too late," Dean snarled angrily getting up from the chair he was sitting in. He stood on shaking legs as he turned to face the angel, anger welling up inside of him.
"Do you really believe that, Dean?" Castiel asked softly.
"Believe that Sam hasn't really been my brother since the night Jake killed him? That I haven't truly trusted him ever since I brought him back? That I haven't trusted him once since you brought me back?" Dean demanded his voice growing with self hatred. "That it isn't my fault that Sam's on this dark path? That I should have killed Jake while Sam was still alive and that none of this would have ever happened? Because yes, I do believe that! I believe that if Sam had never died, I would never have had to sell my soul, that the first seal would never have been broken. That Sam would still be the geeky, tall, shy, innocent guy that I knew better then anyone else and trusted with my own life. That Sam would be my Sam, not this stranger I don't know. That none of this would have happened."
"You really think that by stopping Jake from killing Sam that night everything would be different?" Castiel questioned.
Dean wondered if there was an echo in the room. Wasn't that what he had just said?
"I know it would!" he snapped. "Because if Sam hadn't died, then I would have never made that damned deal. And Sam would have never had to have been alone those four months I was in Hell. He wouldn't have had to team up with that demon and never have been tempted to use his powers."
"Is that really what you think? That all of this—" Castiel used his arms to gesture to the hospital bed, but Dean knew he was talking about the threat of the apocalypse and everything that happened since Dean had been pulled out of Hell as well. "That all of this could have been stopped by your brother living that night?"
"Yes," Dean said bitterly as he looked back at Sam. He seemed so much more like the Sam Dean used to know when he was unconscious. The darkness and solidarity that plagued his features when he was awake was gone. In its place were pain lines and innocence.
"There are some things in life Dean that have to happen. And there are other things that are meant to happen. And there are some things that their happening just seems like the start of a chain reaction, when really, things were going in that direction all along," Castiel said.
Dean turned back to glare at the angel.
"Are you saying that Sam was supposed to die that night? That I was supposed to make that deal and start the freaking apocalypse because of it? That we were supposed to be complete strangers to each other?" he demanded.
"I'm not," Castiel said. "I'm saying that there are some things where changing them would have no impact on what would happen today."
"I don't believe that," Dean said.
"Do you?" Castiel questioned.
"I don't," Dean snarled. "I don't believe in destiny and all that crap. I don't believe that Sam had to die. What I do believe is that Sam's death that night and my decisions afterward are the reason why all of this is happening."
"What would you hope to accomplish by changing it?" Castiel asked.
"I would save my brother," Dean said through clenched teeth. "Isn't that why you brought me back? I mean outside of it was my fault that the first seal was broken, I know you brought me back to try to save Sam from giving in to his demonic crap."
"We brought you back for other reasons to," Castiel said gently. "But yes, those are the two main things."
"I wish that I could go back in time, stop this all from happening," Dean said turning back to Sam to hide the emotions on his face. He refused to cry in front of Castiel. "I feel as though that if I had been able to stop that bastard from killing Sam, then things would have turned out different."
"Do you really believe that?" Castiel asked.
"I do," Dean said. "I do more then any thing in the world."
Castiel vanished suddenly, just as the alarms started going wild on Sam's machine.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted pressing the call button.
Dr. Clapper raced in with a team of nurses and other hospital staff.
"What happened?" Dean demanded as Dr. Clapper took a reading on one of the machines.
"Shit, his blood pressure is dropping," the doctor said. "Someone get me some more AB positive in here fast and a dialysis machine. His kidneys are starting to go."
"Doc, what's happening?" Dean whispered afraid to know but at the same time, needing to know. Sam couldn't die. It wasn't acceptable.
"You need to leave. Now," Dr. Clapper said harshly. "We need room to work and you're just going to get in the way."
"No. Not until you tell me what's happening to Sam!" Dean yelled.
"I'll explain once I'm done saving your brother's life. Now leave!" Dr. Clapper all but yelled.
Dean was vaguely aware of someone taking hold of his arm and pulling him out of the room, but all he could see was Sam. The too pale face in the hospital bed, the closed eyes, the rain as it splashed in his face, the mud as it sank in to his knees… memories were starting to blur with reality. It was happening again, Dean realized. He was losing Sam. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Dean hated himself. If he had been more careful on the hunt, if he hadn't let them separate, none of this would have happened. If he hadn't been such a jackass about Sam using his powers. If he had been more of a brother the past couple of months. If he hadn't gone to Hell. If he hadn't made the deal. If he hadn't distracted Sam long enough for Jake to get the drop on him.
Dean was distantly aware of a splitting pain in his knuckles as his fist connected with the plastered walls. He heard more then felt someone pulling him away from the wall and pulling him outside. It was raining. Or maybe he was finally letting his tears fall. Or both.
"It's my fault," he all but sobbed. "It's my fault that Sam's dying. It's my fault Sam died. It's my fault that all of this is happening. It's my fault."
He heard Bobby saying something to him, but it didn't register. He was aware of someone touching his shoulder. The last thing he heard was: "Everything happens for a reason" before everything faded to black.