By: Karen B.
Season Five spoiler warning!
Summary: A short AU snippet. Tag -- 5-3
Author's note: More wishful, sappy -- I know this won't ever happen -- mush.
Sam pov. Obsess much? Nah!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just me, and my lame attempt at trying to un-break my heart.
Rated: Blah…blah…blah… blah…blah -- and then one more -- Blah!!!!!!!!
Thank you for reading, anyway.
I twirled the point of my pocket knife into the table gouging at the wood. Time was liquid, three months felt like three minutes since Dean and I had parted at this very spot.
It was a warm sunny day, just like that day had been. Yet, I shivered. The devil was always associated with flames and fiery heat -- was odd that I always felt so cold. An overwhelming panic welled inside me, growing bigger and bigger every damn day. I just wanted to be warm again. I'd been in this tight place for a long time, since Dean's trip downstairs. Everything and everyone -- going against me -- including me. I wasn't sure I could hold on a minute longer -- but what choice did I have? Lucifer wouldn't let me die. I'd walked through each day not knowing the end from the start. Nothing I tried had worked. I had broken the world -- but remained myself -- unbreakable.
I heard the Impala before I ever saw her. Resisting the compulsion to run, I smiled a little at the sound of the low rumble. A sound recorded into my head like a lullaby since -- since forever. She was missing, that worried me. Dean neglecting his baby -- off his routine -- not cool. I wondered what else he'd neglected. I didn't look up, just fumbled with my blade digging harder into the wood, and wondering if my decision to meet up with Dean was a good one.
The engine cut, the door squeaked open, squeaked closed, Dean's heavy footfalls heading my way. I felt the moment his eyes set on me -- tracking my every twitch.
I swallowed hard, clutching tighter to my switchblade, desperate to shut off my brain.
'You're a monster.'
Words I never wanted to hear coming from my brother. Words that wouldn't let me sleep at night -- words that were true.
The table gave a little as Dean sat down beside me, neither one of us saying a word. A fresh reminder of how far apart we still were.
I'd decided not to believe the Princess Of Darkness and, I'd called Dean a few weeks ago. Not because Dean was my suicide hotline, but because I'd had enough regrets in my life. I had to tell him why. Didn't need Dean thinking I wasted myself because of him. He had to know it was because Lucifer had targeted me as his prime candidate. Not to mention, I needed to hear my brother's voice just one last time -- even if he was screaming at the top of Everest -- and as low as I was -- I could still hear. Unfortunately, one last time turned into many. Executing plan A -- continued on all the way through to plan K. That last phone call was the one phone call Dean finally talked me into meeting him here. If I couldn't do the deed right -- I knew he could.
"It's still me…" I sucked in a breath. "…For now."
"Figured as much."
"Your cheap aftershave." Head down, I tired to hide a small snicker. Even in the worst of times Dean could make me smile.
My smile quickly faded thinking on how I'd failed my brother again. Dean would have to do the dirty deed of killing me. Shit, why coudn't Ivory Soap just wash everything clean. We stayed quiet, and I could feel the tension and stress bunch in my shoulders working its way up to throb between my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dean -- his right knee bouncing up and down. A nervous tick I don't think he even was aware of, but a telltale sign for me.
"So you came." I broke the silence.
"Somewhere along the way, Sam..." Dean cleared his throat. "...I missed my turn."
I nodded. Seeing me in person had changed Dean's mind. I wouldn't force his hand.
"U.S Highway 42 is four miles back." I hiked a thumb in that direction.
"No, Sam,!" Dean yelled -- I didn't flinch. "Sammy," he said quietly, trying to regain his composure. "That's not what I mean. Enough is enough!" His voice raising back up an octive.
That time I felt a twitch in my gut. Dean truly was here to make good on his promise. A promise he had made to me, and to himself.
"Give it your best shot." I dug the tip of my blade deeper, picking at the wood. "I'll make it easy on you... won't make a sound."
Maybe Dean would have better luck. Staying alive wasn't my problem -- dying was.
"You suck!" Dean's tone was strong -- confident. "No! Never! You know that!"
Why the change of heart? I wondered.
"Stupid." I kept my eyes glued on the table, carving away.
I wasn't sure if I meant it was stupid that I couldn't die -- or -- stupid that Dean was chickening out on killing me.
"Sam, look at me."
"Stubborn son of a…" Dean knocked the switchblade from my hand, and rose up hauling me violently to my feet.
"Look at me, man!"
I was dizzy and staggered, staring blankly past his shoulder at the Impala.
The words were a mere whisper, and I turned my eyes to his.
"You're shaking," I informed.
Dean's grip tightened -- I didn't struggle against him
"Dean, if killing me is upsetting you that much you don't have to..."
"What!" Dean's eyes bugged out of his head. "Listen, dumbass, okay! Sam," he softened. "Just shut up and listen."
I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on him, that awful coldness racing through me.
"We are stronger than all this bullshit, Sammy. Not taking the easy way out. Remember when I said I was having a hard time forgiving and forgetting…" a pause. "Not anymore. I forgive you, Sam."
"What! How can you….no! Dean! Don't!" My turn to start shaking. "Why would you ever…"
Dean held up one hand, stopping my rant.
"Dude, I was Scrooged."
I cocked my head in confusion.
"As in A Christmas Carol -- Scrooged?" I frowned. "You mean you were haunted by the three ghosts of Christmas? That's just…"
"…Crazy, Sam. I know, but true. Well, sort of true." Dean shrugged. "Was an apocalyptic, crap adaptation of the story." He shook his head. "Never mind that now. Just…we have a choice, Sam. On how this will go down. How we will live what's left of our lives. Winchester time-out is over." Dean looked blank for a moment, then said, "No friggin' way heaven or hell is walking through our souls with their dirty boots on." He pulled me close, his nose almost touching mine. "You're no monster, Sam." I shut my eyes not wanting to see my reflection in his eyes. Eyes that held a glimer of trust. "…And I'm no angel. We did this together. If the world ends, it ends. But we finish this -- go down fighting before we ever become one of them. We don't give in."
"What about everyone else on the planet, Dean?" I asked, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. "It's not just us we should be worried about."
"That's just it Sam. This is our planet. Not paradise. Demonic or heavenly, but ours. Blizzard, dust storm, hurricane…" Dean sighed. "...The sky falling down around our ears. Does not matter We've all made mistakes. It's called being human. We are all human." I opened my eyes. Dean's gaze met mine staring me down, challenging me to deny that fact. "Both of us, Sam..." Dean waved a finger between us. "Human." I stood, mouth gaping, hanging on every word.
"Dean." My eyes started to water -- sting -- but I kept my head up, eyes locked to his.
"We don't always see eye to eye, Sam, but let's face it -- we are brother's. And... we are staying brothers, right down to the last burning tree. You're my brother, Sammy…" Dean suddenly had tears in his eyes. "My baby brother -- and I love you, man. I know…I know…I never...." he stumbled over his own words, but he didn't waver in his stance. "…I've never said that before," he swallowed. "But, Sam, I'm saying it now!" Dean's voice amplified. "I love you." He winced. "Not roll in the hay love you, but dude…I'm here, and I'm staying here -- by your side -- looking out for my little brother. We blew the train off the tracks, Sam, up to us to set it right."
"There won't be anything left," I whispered.
"Then there's nothing left," Dean said firmly. "Better than giving up."
Dean let go of me, taking a step back.
Fleeting images of our past swept through my brain. Dean, waiting with me at the school bus holding my hand. Dean, making breakfast. Dean, breaking his knuckles on the school bullies face. Dean, teaching me how to ride a bike, bandaging my scrapped elbows and knees. Dean, taking dad's belt for me, teaching me to fire a gun, set a saltline, lob off a head -- Dean, going to hell -- all for me.
When I opened my eyes, things looked different. Dean's words hitting home hard and fast, and I realized three things. One, I was stupid, we had to stick together if we were going to have any chance of beating Lucifer. Two, Dean and I were still brothers. Hopelessly, inexplicitly, brothers, and even though that wouldn't fix our problems or rid the world of evil there was nothing else we could be. And three, Dean would and always could take it on the chin, in the gut, or a direct hit to the heart for me -- my turn to do the same for him.
"Sam, I just have one question and only need one word from you. Are you with me?"
'Bring on the winds of hell.' I thought.
"Are you?" Dean demanded, looking at me closely.
"That's two words," Dean chuckled.
"Yes," I choked out.
"Good. Because I didn't want to have to get out the duct tape, again." Dean patted my chest-- and I felt warm -- for the first time in months.
"'Eh, thanks for the favor," I muttered. "I think. You got to tell me about this Charles Dickens revelation of yours."
"What's that?" Ignoring my need to know about the duct tape and change of attitude, Dean leaned over to peek at what I'd been scrawling into the tabletop. "S.O.S.?" Dean questioned, a goofy look crossing his face.
"Save our ship." I shrugged, picking up my knife, closing the blade and stuffing the switch back into my pocket, not even realizing what I'd been carving.
"More like save our souls," Dean said, slinging an arm around my shoulder, heading us both toward the Impala.
I wasn't sure I still had a soul. Dean didn't need to know that. All he needed to know was that he could trust me. Dad was wrong. It wasn't me who needed saving, it was Dean. And I would. I was a Winchester. If dad could crawl out of hell and Dean survive it, maybe I could destroy it. From the inside out. I would stop Lucifer. Someway, somehow. I couldn't kill myself…but maybe…just maybe there was a way I could kill us together. I'd dig down to the muddy bottom of hell's pit to find the answer -- fight for it and die for it -- as Dean's brother.
We got in the car and I turned to Dean, blinking, might be the one and only time I got to say the words.
"Dean, you know … I lov,"
"Don't go professing like a girl, bitch -- freaks me out." Dean started the engine, staring straight ahead. "You don't have to say the words -- after all…" Dean winked…"Who wouldn't."
"Jerk." I relaxed back into the seat. Okay, so maybe I wasn't unbreakable....my heart broke for what was to come. One thing I knew couldn't be broken, however, and that was our love.
The -- 'Blah...blah' -- end.