You're Not Alone
Tag: Episode 4.04 –Metamorphosis
A/N – My submission to the Writers Guild February/March Challenge. I only used the word 'home' one time in this story. Oh well, one time was all the challenge called for- right? Hope you enjoy it. –Denise-
Beta free zone- all mistakes are my own!
Summary: Sam makes a choice about his powers, and struggles to overcome the grief about what he knows –a hunt with repercussions, a panic attack, and one anxious big brother later…he knows he's not alone. A Limp Sam, Big Brother Dean Story. A One Shot.
"You're not alone," Dean said quietly.
Sam was silent for a second. "Anyway it doesn't matter. These powers… it's playing with fire. I'm done with them. I'm done with everything."
"Really," Dean said, disbelieving. "Well that's a relief… thank you."
"Don't thank me, I'm not doing it for you," Sam said with a little laugh. "Or for the angels or for anybody. This is my choice."
Sam stared into the cold dark night, his face a pale reflection on the clear glass of the passenger window. He wasn't sure he recognized the man that stared blankly back at him. Who was he, or rather, what was he?
The velvety blackness engulfed the swaying tree branches as the car moved swiftly down the desolate highway. The brother's had no direction, no new hunt that was pressing them forward; just the grave desire to put as many miles as possible between the Impala and their last hunt for the Rugaru.
Sam glanced at Dean whose face was lost in the dim light of the evening shadows; the older man's body a light silhouette against a backdrop of darkness. Sam could see his brother's fingers tapping against the steering wheel, a staccato rhythm blending with the sounds of ACDC on the radio. The younger hunter gazed sadly back out the passenger window, long hair covering his face. His mind attempted to comprehend a thousand different questions; the what ifs and whys that seemed to overwhelm him.
It had been less than two days since they had killed the Rugaru and jumped in the Impala to hurry away from the tiny white suburban house. It had been thirty-six hours since Sam's brief roadside meltdown and the talk that only made things worse.
Depression had set in for the youngest Winchester as soon as the conversation with Dean had ended. His emotions were raw, Dean's harsh words reverberating over and over in his head, and cutting him to the quick. The quiet sat between them like a giant fissure, with no way to bridge the gap. They had both pulled back into their own spaces when they got into the car, each lost in their on thoughts and emotions.
Sam knew they had really tried to help Jack Montgomery, to save him from his fate; but in the end; they had lost the battle. No amount of research or hopeful beliefs had saved the man from becoming evil, from taking a life, or from meeting his own untimely demise. Unfortunately, the man's destiny could not be prevented, no matter how hard they had both tried.
Sam swallowed convulsively and chewed on his lower lip. When had he decided to lie to himself, and to Dean? He really didn't know when his deception had begun. He recalled it was some time just after Cold Oak, right after his own death, and the revelation that demon's blood was coursing through his veins. He hadn't meant to lie to Dean; but, it had been easier than facing the truth, the fact that he was preordained to be evil.
He fidgeted in the seat, mind racing as he sucked in a shaky sigh. He certainly never wanted Dean to look at him like he did yesterday, like he was a freak, something that they needed to hunt. He felt weighed down, like he was drifting in a sea of evil; confusion, doubts, and fears taunting him with no escape.
He couldn't seem to catch his breath and rubbed unconsciously at his sternum, struggling to pull in some air. It was all too much; his grandparents, his parents, his girlfriend, his brother going to hell – all because of him. He massaged his hand across his aching chest, attempting to calm his racing heart. He focused his thoughts on Dean's tapping fingers as he nuzzled deeper against the leather seat of the Impala, the only home he had ever known. He closed his eyes tightly. A slow tingling numbness creeping slowly across his body as wayward tears welled up against his eyelashes. They're all gone...my fault…they're all gone. He wrapped his arms around his midsection, staving off the weariness that suddenly seemed to be pulling him down. He rocked slightly in the seat.
To and fro…to and fro…
His fragile mind teetered, thoughts of Dean's harsh words, the blood, and the evil crashing into him, as his feelings ran amuck. Reality slammed into him and he couldn't catch his breath. He strained for oxygen and began to rock faster.
If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you.
Forward and back, forward and back, forward and back…
His movements grew more frantic, shaggy hair failing down to cover his paling face. He exhaled harshly, and clinched his fingers into tight fists, fingernails clawing into the palms of his hands.
And he rocked.
To and fro…to and fro.
He felt light headed as thoughts of his grandparents, his mother, of Jessica, of his Dad, crashed against him, memories of his brother being torn to shreds right in front him. I did nothing, I couldn't save him….he went to hell. It was too much pain, too much to deal with. All because of me…my fault, all of it, my fault. He felt himself spiraling downward, with no means of escape.
Dean felt the shifting next to him, before he actually turned his head to see. Sam was really getting into this music, he never swayed along in the car before? A large goofy grin curled to his lips as he let his eyes flit across to the passenger seat and his siblings slumped, slightly rocking form.
"I thought you hated this song, Sammy?" Dean quirked; his fingers no longer beating against the steering wheel; his face darting curiously to look at his little brother.
Dean frowned. Something wasn't right.
He gazed at Sam a moment longer, taking note of the barely visible pale features, the wayward hair sticking out haphazardly around his face. But it was the shortness of Sam's breath, the gasping, the quick movement of his chest that gave Dean cause for concern.
"Sam?" He questioned inquisitively as he leaned as far forward as possible against the steering wheel to look at the kids face.
Sam's eyes were clinched tightly closed, his chest panting quickly up and down as his hands clutched absently into fists resting shakily on his chest. He was wheezing, and rocking slightly. What the hell?
"Sammy?" Dean questioned forcefully as the Impala skidded to the side of the darkened road. He quickly turned off the radio and looked at Sam with alarm. He placed his hand gently on Sam's forearm and waited for a response. He could feel his brother trembling beneath his grasping hand, lips moving as low murmurings escaped across his lips, the sound almost to low to hear.
"All because of me…my fault, all of it, my fault…" Sam's words stuttered between raggedy gasps for air; a quiet mantra that slipped across his parted lips. "All gone…" His voice stammered. His head banged once into the passenger window as he rocked erratically to and fro.
Deans other hand came up and grasped Sam by the front of his jacket, his little brother's unfocused eyes never rising to look at him as he remained closed off and dazed. Dean watched, bewildered look resting on his face. Was Sam having a panic attack? His little brother's movements were jerky, his breath erratic and misplaced. His hazel eyes seemed glazed over, unfocused and distressed, as silent tears rolled down his distraught face.
The reality of the situation hit Dean like a punch to the gut. Oh my god, I contributed to this…I am such an ass.
The older brother haphazardly clutched the driver's door latch and hurriedly escaped the car. His feet barely met the pavement as he slid physically over the hood. He could hear Sam's forehead, as it met the foggy glass again. Holy crap...
His fingers yanked the heavy metal door open, as Sam teetered off the seat and plummeted toward the ground, falling heavily against him as he gasped for air. Dean's hands clutched and grabbed at the tan jacket, stopping Sam's immediate decent.
"Hey, Sammy…com'n man, don't do this."
Dean's fingers gripped and tugged at his little brother's shoulders, pushing him gently back against the bench seat.
"Sam….Sam…look at me, Sammy…look at me!" Dean voiced urgently.
Hazel eyes blinked up at Dean, weak arms struggling to pull away. But, Dean held on tight and fought to help his little brother. He pulled Sam's head to rest against his shoulder, tucking brown locks against the crook of his neck. His firm hold on the back of Sam's neck did not relent, as Sam sucked in air in short, ragged gasps.
"Hey, HEY…Sam, calm down, Sam; just breathe, breathe with me." Dean said assuredly as he tried to ground Sam to the here and now.
"You…you want to...want to hunt...hunt me." The younger man whimpered between heaving sobs.
Oh God, why'd I say that? Idiot….
"Sam….that's not what I said Sammy, I said if I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you."
Sam sobbed, face pressed into Dean's shoulder blade as he heaved for more oxygen.
"Calm down, it's okay, everything will be okay Sammy, I promise…I promise…"
It tore Dean up to see his little brother so broken, so guilty and afraid, and to know he played a part in it. He swallowed the large lump in his own throat, and forced himself to stay in control. He willed his chest to rise and fall in slow precise movements, in and out, in and out. He gazed critically at Sam's pale face.
"Breathe with me Sammy…with me." Dean cooed gently.
It seemed like forever, but slowly Sam's erratic gasps began to ease, his body relaxing against Dean, matching his big brother's breaths one for one. The older brother reached his callused hand up to rest against a tearstained cheek and turned the pale, shaking face to look him in the eye. Dean smiled slightly as the upset kid hiccupped in a weary sigh, regaining control of his breathing.
"It's going to be okay, Sammy. We'll figure this out." Dean whispered again as he caressed his fingers through dark chestnut hair, a comforting motion he remembered doing when Sam was small.
"Sammy, you with me now," the older brother paused and tilted his face to look at Sam. "We may fight and yell at each other, but nothing changes Sam, never has, and never will. You will always be my brother." Dean advised firmly.
Sam's green eyes stared disbelievingly at Dean. But, I'm a freak, you said so…something you want to hunt, to kill. I know I'm expendable…I should be dead; it's all my fault, all of it...
Dean saw the doubt resting on his Sam's face, recognized the wide disbelieving eyes.
"Sammy…you listen to me," Dean whispered as he gripped Sam's shoulders giving him a slight shake. "Always, Sam, I will always be here…we fight this together, you and me." Dean's voice quivered, as his hands lugged Sam into a hug. So much for chick flick moments…
The older brother sighed, "I'm not letting go Sam," he whispered gently against the dark chestnut hair.
Sam didn't pull away, but leaned into Dean's solid shoulder, taking sanctuary in his brother's honest words, in his firm grip. Dean didn't mean it, he doesn't really want to hunt me…He let the comfort wash over him and ground him to the here and now. He inhaled a trembling breath as exhaustion finally took a hold and he closed his weary eyes.
"You're not alone," Dean said quietly.