(Sequel to 'Sam', Please read that first then this, this is part two of that short fic. This is my first two-part fanfic, so I hope you like it.)
Dean's thoughts on Sam getting his soul back finally after having to deal with Robo-Sam for so long.
Warning: Wincest, but only hinted at. Not much language this time around. Dean is feeling happier now that Sammy has his soul back.
Schmoop alert!
ooooooooooo
It started with almost killing their adopted Father, Bobby.
It started with Dean having to go through his own brother trying to beat him to death, literally trying to pummel him into the bloody carpet beneath them.
It ended with putting a glowing ball of light into the unconscious man by putting a metaphysical hand into his brother's chest.
He had felt the difference in him.
He had sensed it, like the sun coming up over the water at Sunset, or a rainbow that shimmered in the sky without its pot of Gold, except Dean was sure this time, there was a pot of gold and he had finally found it.
He stared at the confused man in the chair and now knew.
It was his Sammy.
Oooooooooo
He had Sammy's face.
He had his body.
He used his voice and sounded like him.
He took long showers and there was never any hot water left. Dean often joined him now though, happy to have him back.
He sometimes joined him for drinks and nagged at him when he thought Dean had drunk too much or just enough.
He ate salads and grilled chicken, and very little sugary stuff.
He watched porn and always blushed then turned the TV off quickly when Dean entered the room, like a naughty child caught looking at Daddy's porn mags. "Awkward!" was still the joking response that they both knew but now Sammy pulled Dean to him to sit near him and turned the tv off; wanting to let Dean know he was the one for him, no one else ever had been, just Dean.
He was slow to kill and always blinked a little every time he did.
He comforted the victims and gave 'Sammy Eyes'. Boy, he had those things down to an art. They were his specialty, his bread and butter. He was Picasso and Rembrandt with those eyes.
He flinched or bitched when He was hurt and was being stitched up, or was having bones reset, or was having something popped back in place.
His eyes sparkled with that look that said 'You just did something stupid and I'm going to make fun of you for it until you make me stop.' Especially when they had prank wars on each other, which were now fun as hell now that he was in there, his Sammy was really in there again.
He smiled in his sleep.
He made love to Dean and shared his bed with Dean, good thing too, Dean would have hurt him bad if he had tried to touch him when he was the Robo-Sam and not his Sammy.
He called Dean 'Jerk' and gave him that soft smile when he did, his way of saying 'I Love You, too. Yes, I'm being a girl right now but I don't care.' Dean had the same way of avoiding 'Chick Flick' moments, he did the same thing to Sammy but they both knew what was there between the line, the truth underneath those two little one syllable words, 'Bitch' and 'Jerk'.
He walked like Sammy but now there was more of a jaunt to it, a nuance the only the real Sammy had.
He talked like Sammy and there was so much passion or shyness, or other emotions behind them. He didn't sound calm all the damn time and he didn't stare through you not seeing you when he talked; you knew he was looking at you, talking to you, and he made sure you knew it was you he was talking to.
He rode in the Impala again complaining about the music or the volume of that music. He wanted to listen to girly music again and often did if Dean left him alone in the car for too long.
He joked with him or laughed, or smiled with that little dimple, showing the rows of perfect white teeth that His soft lips framed so perfectly.
They didn't take separate cars anymore. Dean's skin didn't crawl with revulsion around Him now. He sold the Civic, seeing no need for separate cars and they enjoyed traveling across the country and hunting things together again, like he used to before Lucifer took him away from Dean and left Dean bleeding and crying against the Impala's wheel, both their hearts breaking as Sammy was taken from him into that damn hole, which closed behind them, dividing them for what Dean had thought would be forever.
Sammy was in there, finally.
He looked and smelled like him but there was a glow of life there that hadn't been there when he wasn't Sammy.
He was his lover again, his brother again, his hunting partner again, and the second part to their two-man hunting team. He was still the best Hunter that Dean had ever seen.
He was sometimes clumsy but sometimes graceful depending on the day and was still proficient off and on the hunt. He was not as cold-blooded and calculating as he had been when he wasn't in there.
He talked a lot and really cared to try to talk things out when they had to. He wasn't too bad at creating Girly moments and damned if that suited Dean from the tip of his head to the core of his soul, which he had given so much of to keep Sammy safe and with him.
Dean felt Sammy's love and warmth and, most of all, how full of life he was again.
He spoke with love or kind gestures when Dean was uncertain or worried.
He asked if Dean was okay when he tried to hide he was injured. He cared.
He felt like Sammy.
He wasn't a shifter who had taken his form.
He wasn't a demon possessing him, like Meg had done.
He wasn't an empty shell, not anymore.
He was Sammy.
Ooooooooo
Dean pulled his brother into a hug and kissed him with all his heart and soul, so damn happy to have him back instead of that cheap imitation he had lived with for so long. He held Sammy tight, afraid this might be a dream. He had often had moment like this in dreams when Sammy's soul was gone and had woken up with a bitter taste in his mouth when he found out it hadn't been real. He held him tight because that shell had walked with him and talked with him and tried to kill him, twice. He held his Sammy because he was afraid this might, just might not last, Sammy would vanish if he let go.
He held on to him because it was the only thing holding him together right now. He hadn't known how broken he had been without Sammy until now.
He held onto him and cried, his brokenness echoing in every sob.
Sammy held his brother and soothed him, holding him even closer, rubbing his back and head, and telling him that he, Sammy, was here, he wasn't going anywhere. He wouldn't leave him again. He wanted to ask why he cried, he wanted to ask what the hell had happened to shatter his brother's heart this way, and most of all he wanted to know what had happened to him for almost a year and half. Sammy, however, asked none of those things. He just held his sobbing brother who had him in a death grip so strong he could feel the bruises forming right now. Dean cried some more, so many emotions in those sounds, in those tears, things he never could express with words but somehow Sammy now heard anyway, and smiled, trying to heal his brother's pain and possibly a lot of his own.
This was Dean, his Big Brother , Best Friend, and Soulmate. His Ally against the World.
He was Dean's Sammy.
Oooooooooo
Please review and let me know what you think.
It's Wincest, hope you don't mind too much, just warning you.