Parte the Fourthe: New Adventures in Winchesterville

Or ‘How I Learned To Stop Emo’ing Out And Get On With It’

.

.

Dean’s body walked across the room, towering over the seated Sam, staring down at him. The green clouds that apparently acted as eyes swirled faster, choppier.

“Look, I don’t know what you want!” Sam cried angrily.

“Sau free light Denu. Now,” the force controlling Dean ordered.

“I did! I let Lucifer go! It’s done!”

“Light,” Sau’win said more loudly. “Sau say no. Denu ears no. Sau say Denu.”

Sam froze, pondering the new arrangement of words. He put a hand up slowly, waving Dean back. Dean did not move.

“Wait, wait,” Sam breathed, “let me think here…”

He swallowed and got up out of his chair slowly, putting distance between himself and the body of his brother. But Dean turned and followed him as if somehow concerned he could disappear.

“Right. This ‘light’ - it’s not Lucifer. Right?”

“Is no.”

“Light is… light is… C’mon, Sam, think,” he hissed at himself. “Light, brightness, white, clean, innocent, truth - truth,” he gasped. He looked at his possessed brother. “Right, ok. So then… I didn’t say something, Dean didn’t hear me say it, I have to tell him something.”

“Sau say no. Denu ears no. Sau say Denu,” Sau’win repeated, nodding steadily.

Sam’s shoulders drooped like a tonne of sakura descending upon Ueno Park. “You don’t know my brother, do you? I mean, you’re in there, but you have no idea how much he hates talking to people.”

“Sau say Denu.” The greenness stared at him without mercy.

“Tell him what?” Sam asked. “This is all some nasty, whacked-out dream and I am getting really tired of you telling me what to d--.”

and

there

it

was

A flickering, overly coloured Super-8 of his life, blurry in places but no less damning than the Zapruder film. Sam ducked to prevent obscuring the title card for patrons behind him in the huge movie theatre, finding the middle seat in the middle row and folding himself into it as low as he could.

He watched, open mouthed, as pictures of himself, his early life, his brother, were splayed twenty feet wide across the screen for all to see.

Sam, a gangly little boy, Dean pushing his shoulder, telling him to get in Dad’s car. Sam a little older, Dean picking up his school bag for him and telling him to hurry up and get to class. Sam as a young man, Dean telling him to be home way after midnight. Sam, eyes black and intentions sliding down a long, slippery slope, Dean telling him to listen to him and stay away from demons and Rubys and blood and…

Suddenly he wanted it all to stop. Suddenly he wanted the film stock to be torn from the projector, salted and burnt.

He stared at the screen, unable to look away from the car crash of his life, knowing the film had looped and was playing the broken images of them as young boys over again. He watched himself being told by Dean to get out of bed. He watched himself being told by Dean to stay away from the top magazine rack in 7-11 until he was old enough to reach it. He watched himself be told to stay out of the liquor store so Dean could go in and get beer. He let his shoulders relax as he watched himself creep round a doorjamb, a baseball bat in his hands, until Dean jumped him. He watched Dean tell him Dad was out on a hunting trip and hadn’t returned. He watched himself argue with Dean about going after him.

And he smiled.

The film stopped. The theatre was silent.

But Sam smiled.

He got up to leave - and was painfully aware he was in the motel room, watching the body of his brother stare at him with the patience of ages.

“Sau’win,” he said softly, hurt and relief and pain and gladness all thrown together in his head.

“Sau.”

Sam blinked, realising his eyes were a little too moist. He put a hand up, wiping his left quickly and drawing in a deep breath.

“I can’t do what you want. I can’t ever get over this year. Or last year. Or the last four years. But… If you want me to tell Dean I just want it back like it was… I just want everything to be… No. I want us to be… good. Then… I can do that,” he whispered.

Dean’s hand lifted and it set itself on Sam’s taller shoulder lightly.

“Sau in Beltane. Sau move now,” was the soft advice.

Sam smiled, wiping at his other eye and sniffing, straightening his back.

and

it

all

came

crashing

down

A tide of guilt drew back from the shore, building a huge swell that overcame the beach’s defences. Culpability lashed down in a gigantic outpouring of grief and loss, guilt and shame, wracking the coastline of his soul with alarming ease. Every single moment of guilt he had felt since unwittingly releasing the fallen angel, every strand of anger at having been duped so easily, everything rose up and let itself be fed through the wringer of perspective, driven by the hold on his shoulder by an ancient force who had hijacked his brother’s body to bring it about.

He felt every moment over again, received every stinging glare from his brother over again, let the shock and anger buffet him over again. Everything he had tried to dampen, everything he had attempted to suppress, everything he had been desperate to ignore just so he could sleep, could eat, could function, could walk next to his brother and not curl up in pain at feeling unworthy to share the pavement with… All of it hit him all over again.

He opened eyes that had closed without asking his permission or input beforehand. He saw the whirling, coalescing green in the eyes that should have been his brother’s. He studied the face, noting its utter blankness and remarking how, even though Dean sometimes tried to render his face expressionless - more and more often these days when Sam mentioned the wrong word - it would and could never look as lifeless as it did now.

“Sau and Denu, bad no. Sau and Denu, same yes. Sum-mer and vall-ey need same. Leave vall-ey in no sum-mer? No.” Sau’win produced the words quietly, carefully.

“I get it,” Sam said, his voice shrinking from its responsibility and barely managing a whisper. “We can’t be like we were… But that’s ok because…”

“Sau eyes yes,” Sau’win had Dean enunciate clearly. “Sau say.”

“All those times… All those times we were thinking it was tough, it was nasty and it sucked. We were always looking to the future, always thinking one day we’d have good days, good times,” Sam whispered hoarsely. He looked at his feet, smiling abruptly. Dean’s head tilted but he didn’t speak. “We never realised… Those were the good times. These are the good times, man. Today, now. We just never saw it. We battle on day after day, cursing and grumbling about our job, our duty, the fact we can’t just walk away. But…”

He looked up, studying the empty face watching him with windows onto green clouds.

“Dean and I haven’t been right for a while. And no matter what else happens to us, that’s always been the most important thing. At least to me. Maybe Dean’s stopped caring cos I’ve been such an ass recently. But I can change that. I can change us.” He swallowed. “I can do that, can’t I?”

“Everything yes. Time yes.”

“It’s not about going back to what I thought we were - it’s about being something new. We can do this. I can do this,” Sam urged.

“Want?”

“I need to.”

A weighty silence rumbled over the room, suppressing everything but the feelings Sam tried desperately to process. He was aware that something had changed; he was aware that something had become clearer; he was aware that something had fought its way to the surface of his conscious mind.

He was aware that something was prodding at his front. He blinked, bringing himself back to the moment.

“Sau in Sau’win,” Sau’win said, nodding the elder Winchester’s head, letting the hand it was controlling drop.

They regarded each other for a long moment.

“We aren’t… really here, right?” Sam dared. “This is a dream?”

Sau’win leaned Dean’s head into a tilt. “Is. Here. Now.”

“Right,” Sam grinned. “Whatever. So what do we do now? How do I get Dean back?”

“Sau say, Denu ears. All ‘back’,” Sau’win replied slowly.

“No, I meant…” Sam scratched his head, thinking. “I don’t know if I believe you came here because you wanted me to emo-out over this, or because you somehow need me and Dean to work together because it serves your purpose in the grand scheme of things. And you know what? Part of me really doesn’t care. But I do know I need Dean back now - and you’re in his body. How do you return Dean to his body?”

Dean’s boots stepped back steadily and Sam watched him with caution. The older man backed up to the bed, and then his eyes closed for the first time since the force of winter had taken up possession.

and

then

as

if

he

had

never

been

interrupted

Dean took a deep breath and his eyes snapped open, as his finger came up to point.

“--But I’m still older and I still know better!” he cried angrily. “You see what happens when you choose some demonic skank over… your… brother…” Dean came to a hesitant stop, aware Sam was staring at him with a grin that could have put Cookie Monster to shame. “What?”

Sam threw his arms out wide in helplessness, grinning madly at his brother’s eyes - white balls with green surrounds and definitely black pupils sitting there like cherries on a pair of Knickerbocker Glories, bought for two young lads sitting in the diner while their father ate pie and watched them fondly, gruffly pretending he was doing nothing of the sort.

“You’re right, man,” Sam chuckled. “You are so right.”

“I am?” Dean dared. “Why? How?” he demanded, his face dark with suspicion.

Sam marvelled at the life in his brother’s face compared to just a few moments ago. He couldn’t help staring at the tiny movements and fluidity of Dean’s changing expressions.

“Cos you’re older,” Sam grinned. “And you’ve been telling me what to do all my life. And the one time I didn’t listen, I got what I deserved. I just inflicted my mistake on everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed harshly. “So… like… you should try… listening to me…” he managed, but his bluster was wilting under Sam’s amusement. “What?” he demanded, his voice high and baffled.

Sam laughed. “Nothing. It’s fine. I’m over it,” he smiled.

“You’re what?”

“You ah… You hungry?”

“What?” Dean blinked, his personal radio tuner frantically scanning all FM frequencies in a hasty attempt to somehow find the one Sam must have been using.

“Hungry. Are you?” Sam tried again.

“Ye-ah,” Dean said slowly, cautiously.

“Good. Let’s get pie. I’m buying,” Sam nodded.

“Sammy, we just got here,” he said.

“I’ve been here for over an hour.”

“We just walked in--.” Dean let his head drop and then looked up at his younger sibling. “I give up. Do whatever,” he shrugged, and all the evidence Sam ever needed to prove to himself that Dean no longer regarded Sam Winchester a matter of personal importance was written all over his uncaring face.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly.

The elder Winchester blinked guiltily, avoiding Sam’s gaze.

“Dean,” Sam said again. “I know you don’t care. I know what I’ve done. But… You think I just want it to be like it was.”

Now Dean’s eyes turned and latched onto Sam’s like a leopard dragging its dinner up into a tree.

“Yeah? Well it can’t,” he snapped.

Sam bit his lip for a moment. “I know. So let’s not dwell on it. Let’s do something else.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed but Sam made himself straighten.

“I say we get on with it. I’ll stop crying about it if you’ll stop bitching about it,” he said bravely.

“Ok,” Dean nodded with due caution and suspicion, “who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Is that a yes?” Sam demanded.

The silence hung in the room, watching the two of them with unadulterated enjoyment. It clasped its hands together in barely-contained excitement, willing someone - anyone - to answer.

It was Dean. “Do I get pie if it is?”

“I get your pie if it’s not.”

“Then it’s a yes.”

Dean watched him for another long moment of silent reflection before shrugging and shaking his head at it all. “Whatever, man,” he allowed gruffly.

A giant surge of hope burned brightly within Sam Winchester, caused by the glimmer of affectionate teasing in his elder brother’s voice. For barely a second he had heard it; And if I heard it, I can make it happen again, he vowed.

They moved to the motel door before Dean stopped and rubbed a hand over his olive green shirt. “Where did that come from?” he asked himself, patting and jerking the heavier shirt and t-shirt underneath. Salt fell to the motel carpet, giggling to itself in much the same way as teenagers buying beer with fake IDs.

“Occupational hazard?” Sam offered with a shrug of the shoulders than would have easily trumped everyone, had there been an Oscar for Best Portrayal Of Innocence (When You’re On Thin Ice category).

Dean ‘hmm’ed, apparently found it unworthy of any more attention, and put his hand out, opening the door. “You seriously buying pie?” he grunted.

“Yup. Make the most of it.”

“Is this some Samhain prank?”

Sam’s hand came up and slapped at the back of Dean’s head.

“Hey!” Dean protested.

“Sau’win,” came Sam’s smug correction.

“Who-in?”

“I’ll explain later,” Sam grinned.

They walked outside and Sam stopped. Dean turned to watch him take a deep breath.

“Come on, Ferris Bueller, life ain’t moving so fast right now. Pie, dude, pie.”

“Can’t you feel that? A new season,” Sam grinned. He let the breath out slowly with obvious enjoyment. “A new year.”

“A new year? Sammy, it’s November first, remember? Yesterday was Hallowe’en?” Dean prompted.

“No. Yesterday was Beltane. Today is Sau’win.”

“Freak,” Dean snorted. But then he paused, looking around. “You know, today has kinda gone ok,” he allowed. Then a fledgling smile spread its wings over his face and he patted Sam’s shoulder. “Come on, Sammy. Today is a good day for pie.”

“Yup,” Sam nodded. “Sau and Denu in Sau’win.”

“Nope,” Dean countered, in a way that told his younger brother he either hadn’t heard or had chosen not to listen too closely on the basis of not understanding a word he had said, “Sam and Dean in the diner.”

“Same-same,” Sam grinned.

They turned and walked to the Impala.

“Hey,” Sam called across the roof. Dean looked up at him. “You got one of your five albums?”

“The ones you hate cos I play them over and over again?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“… Maybe.”

“Are you going to sing?”

“Sammy.”

“Cos… you can. If you want.”

“Ok, stop it. You’re creeping me out. I want Sam back.”

“Just get in the car.”

“Alright dude, but if you’ve swapped my AC/DC for your Jason Manns I will stop delaying that major beat-down I owe you.” Dean paused as Sam very obviously suppressed a guffaw. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, man, nothing,” Sam allowed. “It’s just that… this is one of the good days after all.”

and

then

there

was

.

again

.

.

Star Trek metaphors, Lazarus Rising and iPods, more Yellow Fever rants, calendars and starting points, Lucifer Rising and doctor’d phonecalls, new beginnings, new years and no more wibbling. Everything I’d want in the last chapter. Coincidence? “I believe in coincidences - coincidences happen every day. But I don’t trust coincidences.”

I really liked this one and I’m sad to see it go. For the first time, I don’t have any new projects in pre-production. Time to get my thinking cap on! Thanks for reading, folks - really - and I hope some of it made some sense.

Stick a fork in me, it’s been grand.