Rewriting
K Hanna Korossy
Sam watched, confused, as Dean climbed out of the car to go "ask Amara something." They'd just struck out on their pitch for her help to take down Chuck; Sam wasn't sure what more there was to say.
And then he thought of something, something Dean would want to find out from Amara specifically, and Sam quickly got out to follow him.
Sam hovered in the doorway of the pierogi restaurant, just close enough to hear what the two were talking about in the quiet deli, but they took no note of him. The fact that neither one of the most powerful beings in the universe nor Sam's brother, the guy who knew him best, noticed his presence said much about the intensity of their conversation.
Why?, Dean had asked. Why bring back Mary? "Your little experiment, it came to a not-so-happy ending. My mom is dead."
Sam hung his head. They hardly ever talked about her, Dean especially. Even that little bit hurt.
Amara was answering. "I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person, that the myth you'd held onto for so long of a better life, a life where she lived, was just that: a myth."
"I remember this. Mom and Dad were fighting, and then he moved out for a couple of days."
"I wanted you to see that the real, complicated Mary was better than your childhood dream because she was real.
"I am your mother, but I'm not 'just a mom.'"
"That you could finally start to accept your life."
"It's not your job to make me lunch and…kiss me goodnight… We're adults. You're gonna make your own choices, even if I don't like 'em… That's just something I'm gonna have to get used to."
Amara had gotten quieter. "I thought having her back would release you, put that fire out. Your anger."
Dean pounding on the trunk of the Impala.
Dean tearing into motel rooms, signs, books, monsters.
Dean shutting Jack in the Ma'lak box, driving Castiel away, punching Sam repeatedly.
"Then let it end!"
Dean's voice proved her point, the rage in it barely restrained. "Look at you. Just another cosmic dick rigging the game… I'm not angry, Amara. I'm furious. To know that all my life, I've been nothing but a hamster in a wheel, stuck in a story."
Sam closed his eyes. And there it was.
Dena had been able to deal with a father who didn't see options. A stubborn little brother who made different choices. A mom who didn't act like he'd always imagined, friends who died without warning, dreams abandoned and a life cut short. He'd still told Sam, more than once, that he was proud of the two of them.
But to find that all the misery, all the sacrifices and good they'd done and mistakes they'd made, had been scripted, all for the amusement of some cosmic being… That had been the forest that broke Dean's back. Because when it came down to it, that was all Dean had been able to claim in life: his sacrifices, his saves and misses and loves and losses. Without that…
Amara finally said she'd think about it, and their talk was over. Sam hastily retreated to the car before Dean realized he'd been eavesdropping.
Dean opened the door and sank heavily into his seat. He didn't look at Sam, nor made any motion to start the car. He just said, voice drained of inflection, "I think she's on board."
Sam nodded slowly.
They'd talked about the edges of Chuck's omnipotence. The trip to Hell under his radar. The fear of them he sometimes let slip. The things they'd done that clearly vexed him. They had a running list, for Pete's sake, of choices they'd made that Chuck had obviously not intended.
But still Dean's fear of powerlessness churned inside him. And Sam didn't know how to fix that.
No one can save you because you don't want to be saved. How can you care so little about yourself?
So he did the only thing he knew to do. He turned on the radio and prodded Dean into an inane argument about the different iterations of the Ghostbusters and talked him into stopping at a diner that looked like it might have decent pie. And on the way to the bathroom, he paused, giving Dean's shoulder a silent squeeze as he passed.
I believe in us.
I'm here.
Trust me.
His brother's response came a few days later when, desperate to stop Chuck, Dean drew on Sam.
Then, slowly, tearfully, put the gun down.
The End
