You bury me and I'll bury you,
But we'll never burn each other.
The only way you're leaving this world tonight
Is with me by your side.
Come heaven or come hell,
I'll share it with you.
We'll never be alone.
Not when we've got each other.
It takes Dean a while to figure out what's going on. It takes him a while to figure out why he woke up alone in a field. Why his car was just sitting on the side of the road. Why Sam was nowhere in sight. In fact, it took him a day to figure it out. A full day of having a panic attack before it finally comes to him.
There are few things in the world that freak Dean Winchester out. Very few. One is not having any memory of where Sam could have disappeared to. Or how he's out here all alone. Not knowing things has always been something that's made Dean Winchester squirm. No matter how many times he's run into a situation, guns blazing, he's always had some sort of inkling of how to take care of it. Instinct served him well many times.
This though… nothing makes any sense. He doesn't remember anything. Well… not past breakfast. Sam wrinkling his nose as Dean drinks his black coffee, even though that's always how it's been. Ever since Dean started drinking coffee. It's just their usual thing. Sam wrinkles his nose at Dean's coffee, and Dean teases Sam about his 'girly' coffee.
That's it though. Until now. Walking up to his car, his eyes look her over. Checking to make sure she's okay, sure, but also for clues. Nothing. She's spotless. Perfect. Turning around to lean against her and look around, he feels himself start to panic. One name keeps running through his head. Sam. Sammy. Sam.
After a while, he decides all he can do is drive. Maybe he'll get to a town and find a phone because when checking himself over, he finds he's lost his. He'll call Sam. And if Sam doesn't answer, then he'll panic. For now, he'll drive. That's all he can think to do. So climbing into his car, he drives.
It seems funny later, that it turns from day to night. But maybe that's how it is. He wouldn't imagine it different. Wouldn't want it different. So when he's driving, he watches the sun move across the sky. He doesn't see any cities. Doesn't see any signs. In fact, everything seems perfect. Too peaceful. Too void of any civilization what so ever. No power lines. No old tire tracks on the road.
Once it starts hitting him how this place is too perfect to be earth, his foot hits the breaks. Squealing to a stop, he gives himself a minute to finally panic. He's in heaven. He died. Flashes of memory start hitting him then. Like the domino effect. He can only gasp as he starts to remember the month before this. His memory of breakfast was from a month ago.
That memory of breakfast was the last time he'd seen Sam smile. After teasing each other about their coffees, Sam had thrown his wadded up straw cover at Dean. He had smiled in triumph when the little ball had bounced off of Dean's forehead. Dean had glared before throwing his plastic spoon at Sam, laughing at the distasteful look Sam had thrown him before things got out of hand and they ended up wrestling on the floor. Even in their thirties, they never had broken the habit of wrestling for the last say when they were in a good mood.
That night, Sam wasn't smiling anymore. Things were bad. Very bad. One werewolf had actually been four. They'd taken out two, but by now, they were tired from running through the woods. The creatures were sneaky. And fast. It didn't take long before one of them had gotten too close.
"Sam!" He yells too late.
The werewolf gets its claws right into the soft part of Sam's stomach, Sam crying out with a sound of pain Dean has never heard before. When he realizes it's not the werewolf making that horrendous sound, he becomes frantic.
He doesn't even think before he tackles it, too nervous of shooting Sam when trying to take out the creature. They roll over each other, the werewolf struggling and snarling until it breaks free and takes off. The last one goes running towards Sam then, drawn by the smell of blood. It never reaches him. Dean makes sure of that.
Putting his gun away after taking a second to make sure the wolf was really dead, he scrambles over to where Sam is still laying.
Sam didn't get up from where he was tackled. Just stayed where he was, hands over his stomach, and waited for Dean to come over to him. He's holding his breath as much as he can to keep from moving his stomach, letting out hitched breaths of pain when he has to. It comes out sounding like the whines of a wounded animal.
Dean kneels next to him, tears already blurring his vision even as he moves Sam's hands, blood pouring all over his own. If Sam wasn't even moving, wasn't trying to keep Dean safe, then something is very wrong. Moving Sam's hands out of the way, he sees that it's worse. He knows at that moment that the most horrifying thing that he could ever see are his brother's intestines. Because that is, hands down, the most unnatural thing he has ever seen in his life.
It's hard to keep down the lunch he had eaten earlier in the day. But he has to focus. For Sammy. So he does. "Sam. Hey. C'mon, buddy. Talk to me." He takes Sam's face in his hands, wiping his hair away and thumbing away the tears that continue to leak from his brother's eyes. His fingers leave tracks of blood on Sam's face.
Sam can barely focus on Dean. Almost can't keep his eyes open as it is. It's when Sam chokes up blood, whining in pain and going even more pale, that Dean knows what he has to do. Sam isn't going to make it to the hospital. There's nothing anyone would be able to do anyway. Even Dean can see the damage is too great. They can't fix the tatters of what's left of his brother's abdomen. Whatever organs have been affected.
He knows tears have already been flowing down his face. He doesn't bother to hide them. "Sammy."
Sam finally focuses on him then, eyes clearing through the pain enough to get out one blood-filled word. "Dean."
Dean cradles the back of Sam's head in one hand, his cheek in the other. "Right here Sammy. Tell me what you need. Anything."
Sam understands. This is Dean giving him a way out. "Help," he chokes out, letting out a pained whine even as he chokes on the blood in his throat. "Make it stop," he pleads.
Dean nods, hand on Sam's cheek already reaching for his gun while the other still cradles his brother's head. He lowers his head to rest his forehead against Sam's. "I'm sorry baby boy," he murmurs.
"Not your fault De," Sam answers, barely breathing. He grunts as a new wave of pain overtakes him. His cry of pain turns into another plea of, "Make it stop."
Dean puts his gun over Sam's heart. Right where he knows it is. He isn't going to put a hole in his brother's head. He's going to take his brother out where it counts. Because that's how poetic Dean is. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, practically sharing the same air, Dean touches his gun to Sam's chest. "Love you," he murmurs. Figures one time to make it count.
"Love you," Sam chokes out.
"Close your eyes, bro."
Sam lets out one last pitiful whine.
Dean pulls the trigger.
The memory hurts just as much now as it did then. Tears flow down Dean's face as he rests his forehead against the steering wheel of his car. He buried his brother that night. Didn't burn him. Couldn't. Even the second time around. But the memories keep coming. The most important of the following month being his last day on earth.
The wolf that had killed Sammy didn't stand a chance. It had to die. That was Dean's ultimate goal. His tracking abilities were tested over the month, but he kept sober no matter how much it hurt. He slept no matter how bad the nightmares. He ate even though food had no taste. He did what he had to in order to be at his best. A month later, the werewolf was in his sights.
Unfortunately, he had met up with another hunter following this thing along the way. But with vengeance in his sights, it wasn't hard to convince the fellow hunter to let him have his revenge. And somehow, he had known that that'd be it. Knew the hunter would come in handy. It was a time his instincts were good to him.
The wolf gets him pretty good before he puts bullet in it. A scratch here or there. Bruises. He's sure he's broke a few ribs. But besides that, he can feel the scratches that had shredded his arms. They were lying uselessly next to him. He didn't dare try to move them in fear of making them hurt worse.
But more than the burning pain in his arms, he could feel a searing pain in his shoulder. Spreading. Like a hot fire. It seemed nice at first. Until it started to feel like his blood was on fire. Spreading through his arms, through his body, to his legs. He started letting out pained growls. He was burning all over when the other hunter had kneeled next to him. He knew what he had to do.
"Kill me." It was a simple request. He was turning into a werewolf. The man had to kill him. So he closed his eyes and waited.
The man put his gun over Dean's heart and pulled the trigger.
Dean starts laughing with that memory. The tears nonstop as he laughs himself hoarse. A bullet to the heart. A silver bullet each. It was all way too poetic for Dean's tastes, but he can't help but feel that it's perfect. He and Sam had died the same way, if by different circumstances. A silver bullet to the heart by request. It was almost too ironic.
When he finally recovers, he lifts his head from the steering wheel and looks at the road. Sammy has to be here. If he keeps driving, eventually he has to find him. Right? Because Sam cannot be in… He lets out a shuddering breath. No. Sam is here. He has to be. So Dean takes one more steadying breath and starts driving.
He drives for what seems like forever. Eventually he pulls over in frustration, getting out and slamming the door. He walks to the side of the road, turning a full 360 to look around him. Nothing. There isn't a thing in… He stops when he reaches the way he was looking before. There's a house there now. Just a small, white house. Simple. But it wasn't there before. He frowns, heading towards it. Walking up to the door, he doesn't bother knocking. Just goes right in. What he sees knocks the breath out of him.
"Dean." His mother smiles at him.
No matter how many times he's seen these little glimpses of his mother, it always seems like the very first time since he was four. "Mom."
She comes up to him, hugging him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
He hugs her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I've missed you mom."
She rubs his back. "I've missed you too sweetheart."
"Is this really you?" he mumbles into her shoulder.
"It is. You see, when someone's idea of heaven is being with someone else, sometimes the two can mix together for a little while. Not permanently like some, but just a while."
Dean blinks the wetness from his eyes, pulling back. He looks at her, smiling when he sees the huge smile on her face. "Where's dad?"
"Oh he's around here somewhere. Don't you worry."
Dean lets out a choked laugh. "He made it?"
She smiles. "He made it."
Mary's smile falters. "I don't know," she says quietly.
Dean's smile disappears entirely. "But…" His heart pounds. "He can't be…"
Mary looks up at him sadly. "Surely he wouldn't be."
Dean shakes his head vehemently. "No. He isn't. He can't." He turns away, his hands coming up to rest on his head. "He can't. He's too good for that. He…" his throat closes up.
Mary touches his shoulder. "I'm sure he isn't."
Dean turns to her. "We share our heaven, mom," he murmurs, sounding like a child. "Where is he?"
Mary takes his face in her hands. "Maybe you have to go find him."
Dean nods. "Okay." He kisses her forehead before hugging her, then turns to leave.
"It may be very hard to find your way back here, if you ever can."
Dean blinks the wetness from his eyes. "I know. But I've got to find Sammy, mom."
She smiles. "I know. Don't give up, you hear? It may take time, but you'll find your Sam. He has to be here."
He smiles a little back, turning to go out the door. He walks out onto a deck at a small lake. He blinks, turning to look around.
Dean turns, looking into the water.
"You coming, or what?" Sam, around the age of sixteen, is swimming in the lake. He laughs. "It's not that cold!"
Dean remembers this. It's just a memory. This isn't the real Sam. This is just a really good memory of one of the summers Dad left them at a cabin for a month at a time to get some down time from moving. He sighs. He wants the real Sam. Not a memory. "Sorry, Sam. I've gotta go." He turns to leave, listening to his little brother tease him about being a baby and laughing a few seconds later, the time Dean would have jumped into the lake.
Stepping off the dock sends him to the Roadhouse. He blinks. Sam isn't going to be here. Why is he…?
"You looking for Sam?"
Dean turns, finding Jo standing behind him. "Jo."
She smiles. "Hey, Dean. Long time no see."
He lets out a sharp laugh. "Good to see you're doing okay."
She laughs. "Yeah. Thanks to Ash, I'm able to get around. I'm here waiting for him. He's looking for my mom." She gives Dean a small smile.
Dean looks down, guiltily. "Still?"
"Well it takes time. Says it took him forever to find me. This place is huge."
Dean nods. "Oh I know it." He looks up. "So do you think Ash knows whether Sam is up here or not?"
Jo shakes her head. "We haven't checked for any new people. Never heard anything about Sam. We've been occupied with looking for mom."
Dean nods, understanding. "How am I here?"
She smiles. "Maybe to get closure. See that you don't have to feel guilty." She walks up to him, hugging him.
He hugs her back. "I still feel a little guilty."
She laughs, pulling back. "Well don't." She leans up, giving him a short kiss on his lips. "Now. Go find your Sam."
He grins crookedly. "Does anyone not know?"
She winks. "You've never been subtle."
He rolls his eyes, turning to leave. "Bye Jo."
"Maybe I'll see you later," she says.
He laughs. "Bring friends," he says before stepping out of the roadhouse. "No more memories," he mutters.
Heaven seems to listen because he finds himself back where he started. He stares in both shock and slight horror. "Really?" He looks around. Nothing. Again. There's nothing here. "There's nothing here! Where is Sam?!" He stalks through the field, going to the road. The car isn't there this time.
Bringing his arms up at a loss and letting them fall again, he turns back to the field. "Where is he?!" He feels his heart speed up in panic. Sam isn't here. He isn't here. He isn't in heaven. "Oh God." He lowers himself to the ground, but finds himself unable to throw up. Of course. He hasn't eaten. Can you even throw up in heaven?
The nausea fades but doesn't go away completely. He can't stand the thought of Sam not being here. "My Heaven isn't Heaven without Sam you idiot!" he yells. Maybe to God. Maybe not. He's not sure how this all works anymore. Still at a loss, he pushes himself up and starts walking down the road, the opposite way he went last time.
He'll get back to the Roadhouse. Find Ash and have him get him someplace where he can talk to someone about getting Sam. Maybe Ash can get him to Joshua. Maybe he'll know if there's a way for Dean to get Sam up here. Because Sam doesn't deserve to be in hell. He doesn't. He saved the world for God sakes. He deserves to be in heaven. Not tortured in hell. And if he can't bring Sam here, he'll beg and plead to get down there with him. Because he won't let him rot down there alone.
Dean has to pause again with that thought, putting his hands on his knees until the nausea leaves. He hates the thought of going back there. But… he'd do it for Sam. When he stands back up, there's another house in front of him. More like a cabin really. The whole landscape has changed. Into a forest.
He walks up to the cabin, stopping when a dog comes around the corner. The dog only barks happily like it's been waiting for him, coming up and licking Dean's hands when he bends over to pet him. It looks to be a German shepherd mix. A dog like he and Sammy always liked when they were kids. His breath catches with the thought. As he watches the dog run back around the side of the cabin, he doesn't even think before he's sprinting behind him.
The last time Dean was in heaven, the memories were great. Well… his were. But that's not what he really saw as being his heaven. And maybe, now that he thinks about it, maybe Zachariah had something to do with that. Because this? This is heaven. And apparently Sam thinks so too.
Dean watches as the dog runs up to the impala, barking excitedly at the side of it until Sam lets his hand fall down from where he's sitting on the hood with a beer. He pets the dog's head, murmuring something to it. There's a cooler next to the car, filled with ice and what looks to be a six pack with one missing.
Sam gets a drink, letting himself fall back on the windshield to look up. The sky is starting to get dark. The stars aren't visible yet, but they will be. Dean knows they'll be the most beautiful they've ever been. Heaven isn't without its perks after all. He walks up a few more feet, pausing a little bit away from the impala's back end. Listens to Sam's sigh, and smiles softly when he recognizes it. He decides to put him out of his misery.
"So this is where my car went to."
Sam sits up, turning around with the most pure smile Dean has ever seen. The dark circles under his eyes are gone. The haunted look is gone from his eyes. He looks… younger. He's the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen. "It's about time you got here."
Dean lets his own smile spread across his face. "Trust me, I came as soon as I could."
Sam drops from the hood, running the few feet to him and pulls Dean into a tight hug.
Dean hugs him back just as tight, burying his face in Sam's neck. "God I missed you."
"How long has it been?" Sam asks.
"A month," Dean chokes out.
Sam chuckles. "Tell me you at least got him before he got you."
Dean pulls back, giving Sam his signature grin. "You bet your ass I did."
Sam grins back. "As much as I would love to disapprove of your suicide success, I missed you too much to care."
Dean brushes Sam's hair away from his face. "Well, we're done for good this time. And we're stuck with each other forever. What do you say we do?"
Sam smiles softly. "I could really care less. We'll explore heaven. Have Ash introduce us to everyone he's found. Even Einstein."
"But I have one condition." He rests his forehead on Dean's.
"Anything, baby boy."
Sam nudges Dean's nose with his. "We do it all together. Don't ever leave me again, okay? After all, heaven isn't heaven without you."
Dean forgives Sam for that totally girly sentence, nudging Sam's head up until they're sharing the same breath. "Of course, Sammy. I wouldn't have it any other way." He can feel Sam's grin against his lips.
"Good," Sam breathes, then finally closes the small gap between them. He kisses Dean like he'll never get another chance, plundering his mouth with a ferocity that brings the slight tang of blood on their lips. His tongue sweeps over every inch of Dean's mouth, acting like he's never tasted his brother before. Like he can't get enough. Like he's in heaven. Pun fully intended.
Dean pulls back for air, feeling an uncontrollable smile on his face. It's a foreign feeling.
"I love you," Sam murmurs.
"I love you too," Dean whispers back like it's a secret.
"C'mon, I'll show you our bedroom. See, it's not like last time. This time, I've been able to make things appear as I want or need. It's all perfect. And you can change things if you want. You think Zachariah had ruined it last time? I do. Because all of my best memories are with you. You know that right?"
Dean chuckles, letting himself be pulled along and listen to Sam ramble like he used to. After all, they have the rest of forever to watch the stars. Tonight, he'd rather watch Sam.