Now & Then

Previously in N&T: Sam knew he'd be in trouble, but it didn't even feel like a choice really. It was something he had to do. No one could tell Dean's story better than Sam, no one.

Chapter 7 - Found & Not Found

Kid stared at the photographs of someone who looked suspiciously like him, but younger, with a younger Sam. There were none of Adam and only a couple with either John or Bobby and never both together. But this younger version of himself and the younger Sam were obviously close. In every image they were latched on to each other, looking at each other with clear affection.

Sam was perched on the edge of his seat opposite, anxiously leaning forward and watching for any flicker. He had hoped that the pictures would spark some sort of memory in Dean and was disappointed.

"No Adam?" Kid finally commented, not sure what he could say in light of the boy's obvious upset.

"We didn't know about him then. Not until months after you disappeared."

Kid nodded. It still felt like they were talking about someone else. This 'Dean', who they thought was him but was not.

"So what happened?"

"Our mother was killed by … something … not someone, some thing." Sam said. He felt the catch in his throat but he had to do this. Dean, his Dean, would do it for him if their roles were reversed.

now&then

"I never really understood what it was like for you," Sam was saying some time later.

They were now on the floor a scatter of photographs littered around them. Kid was trying to roll up the sleeve of his shirt to expose his bicep.

"I was just a baby when Mom died," Sam continued. "I don't even remember her. I knew there was a missing piece, but I'd never experienced the whole. But then you disappeared and I understood. It wasn't just a hole, it was a jagged and bloody gash that would not heal no matter what. And knowing that something had clawed that wound … I know now why the family business is not what we choose to do, it's what we have to do."

Dean paused in his struggle with the sleeve, which was really too tight for what he was asking it to do, to look at the other boy. "So it's like a revenge gig?"

A sad smile graced Sam's young face, one full of ancient wisdom. "No. That's what I used to think. But no. What you used to try and tell me, what I finally learned the hard way, is that when you've experienced the darkness, you know how important it is to be a light."

"And your big brother said this to you?" the older boy asked with a slight scrunch of his nose.

Sam actually laughed a little. "No, and he'd kick my butt for suggesting he did. I think his version was something about having seen the world's ass, it was our responsibility to kick it."

Kid laughed too. "I like that better." He had finally got his shirt sleeve high enough to show Sam a scar on his arm. "And this one?" he asked.

Sam inspected the smooth white scar for a moment, then he remembered. "You were thrown by a poltergeist. I think you hit a window ledge or some sort of bracket on a wall. Seven stitches."

"Sammy?" questioned John's voice softly from the doorway. Both boys looked that way.

John wasn't sure if he should have interrupted them sooner or not at all, but it was done now. There was a scatter of photos around them and, judging by Dean's untied shoe-lace, this wasn't the first scar to be given an explanation. It wasn't the way John would have approached it but his boys had always had their own ways of communicating. Still, he was worried about the toll on Sam, especially as Dean clearly still didn't remember and didn't look any more accepting of them than he had at the park.

The Kid looked at the man he had been told was his father. He wanted to feel something, some recognition, even the anger he was sure this 'Dean' must have had for the man who asked so much and gave so little in return. But there was nothing. He was as much a stranger as before.

He figured the 'monsters' stuff was some kind of metaphor, or some sort of cover. He knew just how monstrous some humans could be. He hadn't yet figured out if this John character was one of them. If he believed even parts of the stories Sam had told him to explain the scars he had, he'd been knocked about by someone. But neither Sam nor Adam had shown any signs of abuse or neglect.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Sam said, looking worried. Kid watched the interaction carefully but John wasn't angry. Primarily he looked concerned. It didn't mesh with the man in the stories Sam had told. The man whose orders were not questioned and who would abandon his children, putting revenge before them. Of course, that wasn't what Sam had said, but Kid knew how to read between the lines of a story, especially a child's story about their family.

Sam had been brutally honest about the way they lived before. He had heard Dad-Bobby's arguments for being straight up with Kid as quickly as possible. He also knew his big brother. Dean had always forgiven bad behaviour much more easily than secrets and lies.

But seeing the way Kid was looking at their dad right now made him question the wisdom of it. The teen had seemed distinctly unimpressed with the way John would leave them while he went hunting and was now looking in accusation at the man. Sam remembered his younger-self wishing Dean would see more fault in their father. Seeing it now, he thought he finally understood why Dean never had.

Sam got up and moved to his dad. John put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Son?"

Sam nodded.

"I thought it would help," he said quietly. John didn't doubt that, but he hated the misery in his middle son's eyes. "Is Adam okay?"

"More than ok, Bobby's promised to let him loose in the grocery store." There was a look between the two, an inside joke.

Kid felt reassured that the relationship was a good one but it wasn't something he was part of.

"Here," he moved forward and offered the pictures back to Sam.

"You can keep them if you like," Sam said hopefully.

There was something like pity in the teenager's eyes.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I am, but I'm not him. Even if I was before, I'm not now. I don't remember any of this. But from what you tell me, this guy," he indicated the Dean in the photos, "he'd want you to remember."

Sam looked at the pictures, his eyes bright. He smiled sadly.

"Yeah," Sam sniffed and pulled himself up more. "Yeah, he would."

The teen looked at John.

"Look I get it, I look like him, maybe I even was him, but now –"

"Sammy," John interrupted. "Bobby and Adam are outside. I'll join you in a bit."

Sam's eyes darted between the two but then he took the photos back from Dean and left. John gave Dean a hard look.

"OK, out with it."

"Out with what?" Dean challenged back, dropping all pretence at softening now Sam was gone.

John just raised an eyebrow.

"Fine. Look, I don't know what you all are really into, and I don't care. Whatever it is, Sam and Adam seem ok, so no harm no foul."

"What happened to us, how we got here, it's a lot, I know that. And I haven't always handled it well, I know that too," John admitted.

"Hey man, your family, your business," Dean disengaged. "It's just not mine."

Dean folded his arms, met John's eye and held it. But for all he was trying to convey conviction, John could see the uncertainty.

"It's ok, Kid, take your time." Bobby had said not to push and the storm of emotions in Dean's eyes backed that up. "But trust me, when you've thought it all through, you're gonna have questions. When you do, we're here to answer them," John offered Dean a business card. It had their home info on one side and he'd handwritten the motel info on the other. "We'll be in town for a while."

It was one of the hardest things he'd even done in a long life of hard things, but John turned and walked away, leaving his firstborn in the orphanage.

now&then

Sam waited until his little brother was out for the count then cried himself to sleep.

John and Bobby kept themselves busy and pretended not to notice. Some grief needed to be private. Sam would have felt the need to rally for his family, when what he really needed was to let it out. Only after Sam finally succumbed to the sandman did John give in to his own tears. He could insist it was temporary as much as he liked but it didn't hurt less. His attempt to soothe his middle son on the way back from visiting Kid had not gone well.

John glanced across the car. "How you doing, Kiddo?"

"Dad, you suck at this and so do I, so let's not."

John sighed, his boy wasn't wrong. "Look, I know this is hard but – we've found him. He's alive, he's healthy, that's something right?"

"We haven't found him!" Sam snapped. "We've found his body. Dean's still gone."

And now, all he could do was cry his own grief. In some ways, finding Dean felt more like losing him than when he'd been gone.

Bobby didn't hold John. He sat silently beside him. There, steadfast, solid, being what John needed him to be. John hadn't cried like that in a while, not since they first started to accept that Dean might not be found.

"You know," Bobby said quietly as John started to get himself under control. "It hasn't even been a week."

"What?"

"Since we found him. I know it feels longer, but really it's just been a few days. And it's a lot to take in for all of us, it's probably ten times worse for him. He's probably thought up a hundred different stories for what he's forgotten, but none of them would have been even close to the truth."

"You think she's right?" John suddenly asked. "Sandra. You think he might never remember?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Then what?"

"Then we get to know him as he is now. We let him get to know us as we are now. I mean, think about it. Even if Dean had his memories, he might struggle to recognise us. We've all changed a lot."

John had been thinking that if they could just get Dean's memory back, all would be ok but this made him pause. Would it be ok? Would Dean be ok? Would he be glad to see them or angry they didn't find him sooner? And with the changes to their family, John couldn't even begin to guess what he'd make of it. Dean had always been pretty possessive of his father and brother, not keen to share them with anyone.

"You think he'd be pissed?" There was something teasing undercut by real fear in the question.

Bobby laughed. "Nah, I think he'd be surprised. We were, if you remember. And I think he'd have a few wiseass remarks."

"Didn't he always." John scowled fondly.

This new Dean was such a mix of the familiar and the unknown that it made John feel like the ball in an emotional pinball machine. With this new consideration, the machine had gained a few new bumpers. He was no longer sure whether it was better for Dean to remember or for him to just accept them as this new Kid.

Bobby's expression said he had at least some idea of what was going on in John's head. "But I think he'd adjust," Bobby said, "just like he always did. And I think, I'd like to think, he'd be happy. Family was always so important to him. And like Adam says, it never hurts to have a bit more of it."

"Adam was six, and didn't have the first clue as to what was going on."

"He knew enough, the important stuff."

"Yeah well, he likes you more than me anyway."

"Everyone likes me more than you. You're an ass." Bobby grinned.

"True." John grinned back.

He relaxed more in his chair, finally taking a small sip of the whiskey Bobby had poured for him over an hour ago. He looked over to the bed that held Sam and Adam. At some point since falling asleep, Sam had rolled over to throw an arm over his little brother, as protection or comfort or some combination of both. Bobby followed John's gaze.

"I didn't realise how little we'd told Adam about Dean. We might have been wrong in that but I think it's made this easier for him."

"How so?" John frowned at Bobby.

"He doesn't have any expectations, he's happy to accept Dean as is. But he's worried about the rest of us."

"You and your grocery-store-philosophy," John rolled his eyes. "What did he buy?"

Bobby smirked. He'd insisted before that he could always interpret how anyone in the family was feeling by what they chose in the grocery store. Really he just knew his family, but it was fun when John couldn't dispute his observations.

"He got you jelly donuts, last time he did that you were at risk of losing your spleen and could only see out of one eye, one blurry eye at that."

John recalled the incident with a wince, less at the pain he'd been in than at the pain he'd caused his family. It should have been a simple hunt but he'd messed up. He'd missed something that nearly cost him everything.

"Adam will be ok as long as we keep him involved. No protecting him from this one. It's not a job, it's family." Bobby took a sip of his own whiskey. "What about Sammy?" he asked. John had been the one to spend the day with him and so far, Bobby only had broad strokes on what had happened.

"Dean not knowing him feels like a rejection," John said, more from his own position than anything Sam had said. "And you know how he is about overthinking things. We need to keep him busy. We've got research he can work on, and there is plenty of training he can do," John gave an uncomfortable shrug. Sam wanted to learn and both John and Bobby felt it was essential the boys at least knew enough to be safe, even if he was more cautious about it than he used to be.

Bobby nodded. The immediate plan for two of the boys in place, there was only one more thing to discuss. They had told Dean that the ball was in his court, he could contact them, or not, and they would respect his decision. But what would they do if he made the wrong decision?

"And Dean?" he asked.

"I vote for kidnapping him and locking him in the panic room," John grinned.

now&then

Mikala sat opposite her new therapist, Dr Sandra Moore. She had hated all the previous therapists she'd seen and had been sceptical about seeing yet another one but her mother had insisted. She'd heard her mother's version of what happened. Mikala had been missing for hours and when she finally appeared she was dirty and tired and even all these years later was still unable to tell them what really happened.

It always infuriated Mikala. She had told them what really happened, they just didn't believe her.

But there was something different about Dr Moore. The smile was understanding rather than condescending. And she didn't open with the usual lecture on pseudo memories being a way for the mind to protect itself from trauma.

The truth was, Mikala did doubt her memories now. There was a lot that she was unsure about. Partly because of the years that had passed. Partly because she had been told, assured, berated and convinced that things she had been sure of could not possibly be true. And partly because there were things she did not want to be true. But despite all of that, there was one thing she was sure about; the boy.

She explained to the Dr that she remembered being completely lost, confused, and scared. All memory of how she'd got where she was, was gone. If she'd ever known where home was, how to find it, once in that cave she no longer knew. She remembered she had a home, her mom, her dad, everything. But there was a chasm between the cave and wherever home was, and she could not connect the two.

Then the boy had appeared.

There were other children in the cave with her. But they were all just as lost and scared as her. None of them had interacted with each other in any way. Everyone was avoiding eye contact of any kind, even a glimpse.

The boy was different.

He didn't seem lost or scared. "He looked right at us and said; 'Anyone who doesn't want to be here, raise your hand'."

Though mostly talking to her knees, she looked up and grinned at her new therapist at that point. "Every time a teacher in class has asked us to raise our hands since, I've always remembered that, remembered him."

Sanda nodded in understanding but remained quiet, allowing Mikala to share at her own speed.

"Everyone did, raise their hands, every last one of us."

They all looked up at him too. His arrival pulling more than just heads up. They all became more present, more aware. None of the kids had approached him but all looked keen to follow him, the smaller children especially.

At first Mikala wasn't sure if she should trust this boy. Boys were often mean after all. And strangers meant danger, everyone knew that. With no memory of how or why she was here, lost and scared, she couldn't be sure he didn't have something to do with it. She weighed up her options. Ultimately, she decided there was more to gain than lose. It wasn't like she could get any more lost after all.

Sandra noticed how all their sessions so far had focused on two moments. The moment the boy showed up and the moment Mikala found herself in familiar streets again. The two moments she was found. Sandra didn't know what had happened between those two moments but she was willing to bet it was something bad the way Mikala shied away from talking about it in the same way she did any specific talk of the monster that had taken her in the first place.

now&then

The Kid stared down at the one picture he'd kept from the photos the boy, Sam, had brought to show him. He hoped Sam didn't notice it was gone. He didn't want to mislead him. He had not kept it from any sort of recognition or even a desire to find some. Quite the opposite. He had been determined to find some evidence that the boy in the photo was not him. So far he'd been unsuccessful but that didn't prove anything as far as he was concerned. The photo was years old, an amateur family snapshot, hardly high quality. The kid in the photo could be anyone really.

Kid didn't remember how he'd lost everything. But he knew he had. Other than the occasional snippet, he didn't even remember much of the weeks and months he spent wandering - town to town, state to state, in search of the unknown - but he knew he'd done that too. Stark memories of kindness or cruelty stood out here and there but much was just a fog. There had been people that had helped him, shown him the ropes of living on the streets. And others that had chased him off their turf with dark threats he had known they would follow through on.

Beyond the fog was a dark chasm that had replaced everything before. He sometimes thought it was like a danger filled moat of indeterminate width and depth. Only he didn't know if its purpose was to keep him in or others out. Either way, he'd determined he was building a bridge. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life in the castle of limbo. His bridge wasn't going back to the unknown past though. He was forging forward, creating a new life, fog-less and found.

Then these people had shown up and they were threatening that future. It wasn't like he wasn't curious but what they were offering filled him with dread. He tucked the picture into his drawer, under a book and out of sight.

Their story made no sense, so either they were crazy or lying. Either way it was unlikely to work out well for him. On balance the risk of what he could lose was too high. If he opened himself up to these people and it didn't work out, he'd lose everything, again. He didn't think he could survive that. No. He had made his decision. He could not become lost again, better to stay the lost he already was.

To be continued …

AN: So that's the end of part 1. Much thanks to Meilean and Churchlady63 for their ongoing support. There will be a slight hiatus until I can start posting part 2, lots of editing still needed before it's ready. In the meantime, I will probably be posting a new Brotherhood AU story that I have just finished. I will get part 2 to you asap though. Of course, comments and reviews to feed the muse always help :D :D

Much love to you all, thanks for reading and I hope you are all well.