Title: What Was Will Never Be
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: He'd had everything. But Sammy. He'd had everything but Sammy. He should've realized then that it was nothing but a wish. And it really gave a whole new meaning to being careful of what you wish for.
Spoilers for What Is and What Should Never Be.
It was heaven. It was safety, it was love, it was light, it was life.
It was his mother's touch on his cheek and the taste of her cooking on his tongue. It was summer camps and his dad's baseball league. It was Christmas family portraits and Sammy's graduation.
It was everything he could've ever wanted. It was everything he did want. God knows he wanted it so bad he burned and ached and begged for it.
"Growing up in a place like this would freak me out."
He remembered saying that once. On that one little hunt that involved PMSing bugs and real estate gone wrong. They had been surrounded by pretty houses and the perky people that built them. The trimmed hedges and neatly cut lawns, the red balloons, and the signs proclaiming BBQ.
He remembered thinking it was a little too Stepford.
He remembered Sam's why and his own sarcastic remarks that ended in a vow that involved a gun and his brains splattered every which way.
"There's nothing wrong with normal."
Sam had replied to him with that. His hands stuffed in his pockets and a sidelong, disbelieving glance.
"I'd take our family over normal any day."
He was a good liar.
He was a goddamn good liar.
Sometimes even he believed his own bullshit.
Sometimes. Most of the time though, somewhere deep in him, he craved and thirsted for normal. For the light flicked on for him in the porch, for the pictures on the mantel. For the flower wallpaper and comfortable furniture. For the warmth of home and the scent of the woman he hadn't seen for twenty three years. For that goddamn white picket fence and manicured lawn.
He remembered waking next to her—Carmen—confused and disoriented and something else he couldn't put his finger on.
He remembered walking out and seeing the pictures of them. Happy and smiling and so fucking content.
He remembered seeing that picture. His mother. He hadn't wanted to believe it was real. He couldn't take it if it wasn't.
But it was. And she was. In a way that wasn't really.
They'd been happy. Sammy was a lawyer, he had Jessica and they were engaged.
His mom was going to be a grandmother. He was going to have a sister.
He'd had everything. But Sammy. He'd had everything but Sammy.
He should've realized then that it was nothing but a wish. And it really gave a whole new meaning to being careful of what you wish for.
It hadn't been real. None of it. His mom never celebrated her 51st birthday and Sammy had never proposed to Jessica.
He'd never met Carmen. Which was a shame because he really did think she was The One.
And goddamn it all but it hurt. It hurt more than it should have. Now he knew what he might've had. Now he knew what Sammy might have had. Their mother. That regular-College-Joe life Sam wanted so incredibly and obviously. That life that Sam had left him for the first time.
Now he understood.
Sometimes he wished he'd taken it. Sometimes he wished he'd stayed.
But it hadn't been real.
It should've been easier to deal with.
He didn't know if he wanted to cry with relief or take the knife under his pillow and thrust it in his heart again just to make sure this was real.
His brother slept next to him five feet away. Silent and still and turned to him. He might've been awake but for the relaxed and even breaths that came only with sleep. Not deep sleep…but deep enough.
He'd learned what different breathing patterns meant. More than that…he knew what Sammy's breathing patterns meant. Nightmares, unconsciousness, not quite sleep but not quite wakefulness either. He knew them all. He took care of what was his.
And damn the car, damn his dagger, damn the cheeseburgers and hot waitresses. Sam was his.
They barely spoke in that other…well…they barely spoke.
Sam was Sam even while he wasn't and he was a lazy asshole drunk that slept with his little brother's prom date on prom night.
They barely spoke, Sam was just barely civil but their mom was alive and they had a gorgeous, normal life.
But they weren't SamandDean, they were Sam and Dean.
He might've stayed. He could've fixed him and Sam. He was good at fixing things.
Apparently he was a fricken mechanic.
Everything might've been okay. It probably would've. And god…he'd wanted to stay.
He was a selfish bastard. And he had his moments of weakness.
For a split second, he didn't care that there were people he'd saved who hadn't been. He didn't care that a little girl drowned while playing in her mother's hotel's pool. And he could never forgive himself for that.
Even when he gave up his mother and Sam's happiness—The One—could he forgive himself. Even when he feltthe knife stab through skin and muscle and heart could he let go of that all-consuming rage and grief and agony.
But when he woke to reality and Sammy—Auntie Em—and frantic worry—a relieved and shaky breath from lips whose first word was his name—and everything that is—there's no place like home—he realized that even with all of that, he wouldn't have this.
It may not have been completely okay…but with the sound of his brother's breathing and the oh-so-painful-not-right-but-totally-completely-real feel of his mother's touch, it came pretty damn close.
Close door number one…
I might continue this. I think I want to, I think I really want to. I'm probably gonna take this down and totally rework it. What Is and What Should Never Be was a total heartbreaker of an episode. I have all these ideas for tags/fics/whatevers to write and I have no clue where to start or how to.
I hope you liked this, if you did, drop me a line. If you didn't, drop me a line and let me know how I can make it better. I am in no way begging for reviews.