This fiction is because I hate the way the line "You are all I've got" sometimes is used against Sam. I know it's meant in a good way, but I keep thinking; it must hurt Sam sometimes, like he's only there because, Dean, only have got him, not because Dean loves him (which I of course know Dean does!)
The ending wasn't what I'd thought, but I like it, so hopefully you will too! :)
No Wincest intended! I had to find a place where it could fit, and I thought season 3 fit perfectly, there might be spoilers for season 4, though!
R&R, not just because I love them, but also because it's the only way I can improve, and I think every write will agree!
We Will Always Have the Stars
Here we go again! Sam thought as Dean got up to stand in front of him, they were having another argument; Sam wanted to stop Dean from going to hell, but Dean was too stubborn to let Sam help. Dean thought he would die if they found a way.
"Sam! Can't you just understand we don't do this before we're absolutely sure it'll work, without one of us ends up dead?!" Dean yelled with a tired and depressing voice.
"No Dean! I can't! You were suppose to live, I can't see the problem here," Sam's voice drifted off a bit in the end. Honestly he didn't want to die, but he couldn't live with the thought that he got to live, meanwhile his brother would be in Hell, because of him.
"Damnit Sam! I was suppose to be dead, first back in Nebraska, the electrocution and the healer-thing, and then dad sold his soul for me, Sammy… Just don't do this, okay?" Dean was actually pleading; he had been doing that a lot lately.
"No Dean!" Sam was getting irritated, "How can you have so little self-esteem you can just give up living?"
"You know why!" Apparently Dean was getting irritated too.
"No I don't, tell me!" Okay, he did know why, but he wanted to hear it from Dean.
"Because… Because I can't watch you die, I can't live with that."
"And now I have to live with you dead, like that's so much better," the words were all repetitions.
"Sammy, you are all I've got, I had to save you," the sadness in Dean's voice could have made Sam stop the fight right there, walk over and pull his brother into a hug, but Sam was in that kind of mood that makes you hear things different than they are meant.
"Oh, so you sold your soul for me because you had too? Well, you shouldn't! I don't want to be your burden…"
"Sam, stop this!" Sam ignored Dean's attempt to stop him.
"… And I'm really sorry that you had to, and I'm sorry that I gave you this life! I should have died in that fire, not mom; you could have had a family, a mom and a dad, and you wouldn't have to worry about me… But that won't be a problem anymore, I'll leave, and you can do whatever you want to, stop the deal, I don't care, I'll find out, if I die before this year is over!"
Sam regretted all his words as soon as he finished. He knew what Dean meant by: the only one left, but Sam couldn't focus, and right now he was too angry and out of sorts to care. Dean didn't have to worry about him anymore; he had done enough damage already.
"That was not what I meant!" Dean yelled, suddenly with anger in his voice.
"Then what was it Dean? Huh?" Sam said, while grabbing a duffel and starting to pack.
"Why do you always have to put the words back in my mouth Sam? You are being selfish now."
"What?! I'm selfish; it wasn't me who sold my soul Dean that was you!"
"Well, you're the one who's leaving when the world is against you, do you think you can live an apple-pie-life now? After all, can you just leave your dying brother? After everything I've done for you!" Sam could tell by Dean's facial expression that he regretted the words, but the anger was controlling both of them, and nobody wanted to loose that battle.
"Here it comes again, I should stay because I owe you? I know I've always been the freak you needed to protect because dad told you to, and I'm sorry I was even born, okay? But I can't change it, so I'm just doing you the favour and leaving, aren't you happy?" The last came out a bit weak, but still strong enough to irritate Dean even more.
"Fine, leave Sam! But don't you EVER think about coming back, I don't know why I keep protecting you, your ungrateful, pathetic excuse for a little brother, you don't, and never did, deserve me!"
Okay, those words definitely hurt, Sam hadn't been planning on really leaving, but those words pushed him over the edge, and in rush of anger and hurt he literally ran out the door, forgetting everything except the things he was carrying in his pockets, which wasn't much.
"If that's what you want!" Sam got to yell, before he was out of the door, across the parking lot and moving down the road. He couldn't hear anyone behind him, so he was sure Dean hadn't followed.
As he ran in the early summer evening where the sun was still touching the skies, casting a light of red, he could feel the sweat slowly forming on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks, and tickle his neck.
As the summer heat got too much, he stopped. The motel lay in the outskirts, and Sam had run away from the centre of town, so he was now standing with fields on his left, and trees on his right. There were no cars, or people, to be seen, so Sam slowly dropped to his knees, and put his head in his hands.
He stated to sob. He had tried to be strong when he was in front of Dean, because he knew he had to be more like him as soon as he was gone. He just couldn't understand why Dean didn't open up more, telling him how he felt about going to hell.
And of course he was sobbing because he was going to loose his big brother, he didn't know what he would do alone in a world where evil things were as real as bugs, and loneliness would be the only thing he would have.
"Are you okay?"
"If that's what you want!" Sam yelled and ran out of the door. Dean stood pinned to the ground, lifting his hand as if he tried to reach out to Sam, but he couldn't touch him.
He saw Sam running across the parking lot and out of town, he wanted to run after Sam, follow him towards the red sky, but he didn't. Sam's hurt face kept playing in front of his eyes, and he knew Sam needed the time to think, and so did he.
He hadn't meant any of it, but he was so damn stubborn that he didn't pull it back when he had had the chance, and with Sam's stubbornness too, it always ended with one or both of them hurt. This time it was both, but Dean had to admit it was probably Sam who was feeling the worse.
When do you learn to shut up Dean?! He thought. He knew Sam took everything too literally when he was irritated, sad or angry. It just irritated him that Sam had to care so much, all the protective bull he came with got him on his nerves, and he didn't want to talk about any of it, he had explain himself enough, he didn't need to do more.
Dean knew it was all on big lie, Sam was right, but there were more than one reason why he was so grudgingly: First of all, he just wasn't the person who talked about those things. Secondly, he didn't want to put his feelings and breakdowns on Sam, Sam was his little brother, god damn it! And the third, and the main reason: If anything happened, and they got Dean out of his deal, Sam died, and if he had to kill himself before time, he's rather die than watch Sam die once again.
He didn't know how to show Sam that he did this because he loved him, not because Sam was a burden, because Sam wasn't! He just hadn't got the words, he had always been good with words though, but it was on jobs. Talking to his brother about things like this had always been a lot more difficult.
"Why do our lives have to be so screwed!?" Dean yelled and punched his fist into the wall.
The sounds of one or two broken bones could be heard, along with the sound of crumbly wall, and rattling picture frames. Dean didn't notice the pain shooting through the two broken fingers, and up his arm, he was too caught up in his own world.
He kept his hand in the hole he had made, as he rested his forehead against the wall. One or two tears which weren't meant to fall fell down his cheeks.
"You okay?" A female voice suddenly asked from the open door.
Dean pulled away from the wall, finally noticing the pain as he moved his hand. He wiped the dampness on his cheeks away, and the cuddled the hand in his shirt.
"Yeah I'm fine," he said in a raw voice.
"No you're not, what's bothering you?" The woman came closer, and Dean could see the long black hair, and the big, caring eyes which were fixed on him. She was a bit smaller than Dean, but not that low. He clothes were a bit old fashioned, but it fit perfectly on her. There was something about her that seemed wrong, but in the right way.
"It's none of your business lady, just turn around and walk away!" Dean was getting annoyed.
"You're right, it's none of my business, but I think I can help you Dean," Dean otherwise bowed head snapped up by the mention of his name.
"Where do you know my name from?" He asked, backing away from her, trying, with his good hand, to find a gun behind him.
"Oh, I know a lot about many things. Now if you're trying to find a gun and shoot me, it won't work. Just listen to me."
"Why the hell would I listen to you?" He could feel the sawed off shot gun loaded with rock salt behind him, he had grabbed it with his left hand, and was only waiting for the right moment to shoot the spirit.
"Because I can help you about the fight you had with your brother," Dean's grip tightened around the gun, and he pulled it around, so it was pointing at woman.
"What've you done to him?!" Dean had gotten nervous when she had mentioned Sam's name.
"Nothing! I'm trying to help you. Dean you have to understand, not all ghosts are evil, and I'm here because I think I can help you, give you peace, and by that bring peace to my soul."
"And what do you mean by peace?" Dean asked sceptical.
"About you dying and leaving Sam, I don't think you actually understand how Sam's feeling. It would be so much easier for both of you if you just tried to understand."
"Let me ask you one more time. Why are you trying to help me?"
"Because you helped me too."
"Are you okay?" A raspy female voice asked behind him.
Sam dried his cheeks, and turned around to see a young woman standing and looking at him.
"I'm fine," he said in his own raw voice.
"No you're not okay Sam," the girl sat down beside him. His eyes widened when she said his name.
The girl had brown hair, and big, brown, caring eyes fixed on him. He could see her paleness, and the black circles about her eyes. She looked ill, and she was skinny too. He clothes were old, and he way she limped when she had taking one step forward to sit next to him showed how bad she really was.
"Who are you? And where do you know my name from?" Sam asked, blinking a few times as he realized he had been staring at her.
"I'm no one actually, now I'm no one," she looked down at her hands, and then back at him. "But I can help you, you once helped me and my sister and I want to help you, maybe I'll be able to cross over then."
Sam was beyond confused. She was dead? And why would she help him, because he had helped her? He couldn't remember her.
"I'm a bit confused," Sam said as he pulled his knees in front of him so he was sitting on his bum, legs curled to his cheat, still looking at the girl.
"You don't really know me, but you killed the thing that killed me, and in some way my sister too." She said, and Sam could hear how weak her voice was, and then he remembered the witch they had once killed. It liked to make people really ill, and then letting the illness stop for a few days so the victims would suffer even more, before killing the victims.
"Yep, I was one of those victims, on of the first actually, back in 1898," apparently she had read Sam's thoughts. "My death slowly killed my sister, but even in death, when we were together, we couldn't cross. We thought it was because the monster wasn't dead, and then you killed it and we still couldn't. But now we know." She smiled at him, still weak, but it didn't seem it hold her back.
"How can you help me?" Sam didn't get why she was there, there was nothing wrong with him.
"It's about you and Dean," Sam jumped back as she mentioned his brothers name.
"What have you done to him?!"
She didn't get to defend herself before she started to chough hard. It sounded like she was coughing her lungs out, and Sam moved back to her, putting a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. He didn't really find an ill spirit who tried to help him that dangerous.
As he breathe were under control she looked at Sam again, trying to smile as tears, of pain Sam guessed, streamed down her cheeks.
"Sorry," came a small, raspy replay to Sam's soothing words.
"That's okay," he said, smiling back at her. "Now, without sounding too sceptical, what can you do?"
"Talk," she said.
"Okay, about what?"
"About how you need to take it easy on Dean, I know he can be really pessimistic, and it may seem like he doesn't care about himself, as you want him to… But he's only trying to protect you, and you have to give him the time to find the words himself." She was talking serious, Sam could hear that, but he had tried that, and it didn't help.
"But I've tried, and he want open up."
"Did you try to talk with him about something really irrelevant to open up? Did you tell him you will always be there when he needs you, no matter what it was?" She asked, the big eyes getting a little bigger as she looked him in the eyes.
Sam looked down, away from her. "I guess not," he said and felt ashamed of himself. He hadn't tried to just talk, he had been too occupied about Dean's deal and the selfish parts that he hadn't tried to do the one thing that seemed as the only right thing. He had always thought those few things were obvious, but nothing was if you didn't let the person know it.
"I know he can be an, what do you call it, ass sometimes, but you can to Sam, I know it too well. I actually sold my life for my sisters, you see. She was the on who got ill, but I found the witch and he agreed, as long as he got one of us.
Even with only five days to live, we never got to talk about anything, except the hate she hold against me and I was too stubborn to realize her feeling that I only yelled, okay I wasn't able to yell, but anyway, I talked back at her when she tried to tell me how she felt. I mean, I had just saved her life, how could it be wrong?"
"We did get one think that would always keep us together, I mean before she died too," she gave a little laugh. "The last thing she told me was: That no matter how far away we were from each other, we'd always have the starts. I tried repeating it, to let her know, but, well you can kinda figure it out."
Her voice drifted off, and Sam realized, once again, that he hadn't thought about Dean in this, he had been selfish, he had only thought about himself, and he had to go back and tell Dean, if he wanted him to come back of course.
"He didn't mean any of the things he said Sam, he want you to come back," only then Sam realized her voice was getting stronger, the circles around her eyes were disappearing and she was getting more colour in her cheeks.
"You… You're getting better?" He asked marvellous.
"I think so, thanks Sam," she said, smiling a bright smile this time.
"Oh no, I'm the one who should say thank you… I have to go back," he got up, and stretched his hand down to her to help her up.
"Oh no, I'm fine now, I'll get up myself!" she laughed as she almost jumped up.
"Thanks again," Sam said, and the spirit slowly kissed his cheek.
"You're welcome," she managed to say before she disappeared.
When she was gone Sam suddenly got cold, and the he become conscious about the dark round him. The sun was gone and even in the summer, the nights were still cool. He pulled his shirt close to his body and started to jog back to Dean.
She had told him everything, but he was still confused. So he had killed the monster which had killed her sister, and the dead of her sister had gotten her killed. She had told him about how he had to think about Sam's feeling too, and understand his concern.
He already knew, but he had to say, that having someone to tell you, made you realize just how important it was.
"I still don't get just why you want to tell me this, but thanks," he smiled at her, trying to hide the pain in his hand.
"You're welcome, and thanks to you too, I can feel my sister, she's got better, and I think we can cross now," her eyes brightened.
"Before I leave, don't you think we should take a look at that hand? I can help you."
Dean looked at his hand, the two fingers getting all swollen and bruised, and he had been listening to the woman for a while now, so her helping him with the hand didn't seem like a bad idea now.
"Please," he pretended to plead to bring up the mood a bit, and it appeared to help.
"Okay, where's the… The thing you use?"
"Let me get it, and it's called a first aid kit, not that I know what you can use that information to," he smirked as he got out to the bathroom and got the kit.
He sat down on a chair and put the kit on the table.
"You can sit down," he offered as she kept standing the same place she had been standing since she had gotten there.
She helped him getting his fingers stabilized and gauzed. Dean was surprised by the work; it looked like she had done it before.
"Where've you learned to do that?" He asked.
"I was a nurse, I'm not a total lose you know," she smiled and finished.
"I didn't mean that… Uhm, thanks for everything!"
"You're welcome Dean, I hope I'll see you a better place, but not too soon," Dean bowed his head, but then she moved closer so that she could whisper into his ear. "And just so you know, even in Hell, you will have a light, and I'm not talking hellfire Dean."
Dean's head snapped up, but she was gone.
It had taking him half an hour, but he was now standing outside the door. It was dark now, and stars could be seen on the sky.
He slowly grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door clicked and he pushed it slowly. He thought Dean might be asleep, or pissed off, so he, as silent as he could, moved into the dark room.
He looked at the beds, but he couldn't glimpse any figure on or in the bed, he looked around and saw a figure standing at the window.
First he got a shock and he was about to moved back out the door until he saw what the figure looked like, it was Dean.
"Hey Sammy," Dean didn't turn around.
"Hey Dean…" Sam walked slowly up behind Dean, and looked up at the sky, the stars were bright tonight.
"Hey… I'm huh, I'm sorry Dean, about what I said, and for… I should've thought about you instead of bringing the deal up all the time," Sam was looking down, but he could still feel Dean turn so he was facing him.
"Hey, I should say sorry, I didn't mean any of the things I said, and I should've thought about how you feel about this, and not sitting, feeling sorry for myself," Sam looked up at Dean again, this didn't sound like his Dean at all.
"Who are you and what have you done to my big brother?"
"Very funny," Dean looked out the window again. "There was this… Something happened which made me realize this, and it also told me something, that: No matter how far away we are from each other, we will always have the stars… And now I sound all chick-alike right?"
"Yeah you do," Sam half laughed. "She told me that too," his voice could barely be heard, but Dean heard it.
"The mysterious woman with long black hair?"
"Black? It was brown, you know she was ill, she sold her soul for her sister?"
"Oh, so you talked to her sister," Dean smiled, and as he glimpsed out of the window, he saw a shooting star.
"Did you see that Sammy?"
"I did," Sam smiled, and first then he noticed Dean's hand.
"What the hell have you done to your hand Dean?" Sam asked, once again the concern took over.
"Well, I thought that wall needed something extra, isn't it nice?" Through the dark Sam could see his smirked, and behind Dean the wall with a big hole in.
"You are unbelievable," Sam shook his head, but still returned the smirk with his own.
"Always bro!" Dean considered telling Sam about the hellfire-thing she had told him, but kept it to himself, maybe it wasn't the right thing to bring up right now, and he didn't even know what it meant himself.
They stood looking at the stars for a while, but as soon as sleep was too necessary, they exhausted crawled into bed, and right before Dean drifted into his dreams, he could hear Sam's slow, silent mumble.
"We will always have the stars."
Not knowing if anyone heard him, Dean gave a mumble of his own.
"We always will."