SquidgeWorld Archive

Hi Dean. It's Sam.

I know. You're pissed. You've probably already torn up the motel looking for me. Probably most of the parking lot, too. Even after everything. It doesn't matter now. I'm going to tell you a story. I hope you read it, even if you don't understand. I just need you to know why. I need you to know the reason behind all the things I did. I'm not saying this justifies anything because it doesn't. Nothing will ever justify what I did.

Ever since Mom died, you've been taking care of me. More so even than Dad. You were the one that helped me when someone would pick on me at school. You were the one who would steal presents for me at Christmas. You were the one who gave me my first beer. The one who taught me about girls and what to do with them. Before college, Dean, you were my everything. After Jessica it started all over again. It was always you. You became so important to me that in the end there was nothing else.

For so long I was okay with being your little brother. I was okay with you protecting me, until the day you sold your soul for my life. Do you have any idea what that really did to me? So many times I wanted to tell you that you should have just let me go, because then I wouldn't have to live knowing my brother was in hell! It changed me, Dean. I thought I had to protect you and when I couldn't, when you went anyway, part of me died with you. I think now I have that part back, at least some of it, but it doesn't matter because it's meaningless without you.

I latched onto Ruby after you were gone. I told you she saved my life, even if I know now that it was all part of her and Lilith's plan. What I didn't tell you was that I was scared. Terrified, actually. I was alone and Ruby was offering what I thought I needed to be stronger. To be strong enough without you. To keep hunting. At first I hated it. I hated her training and her blood and how it made me feel. Then I think I started to like it a little. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe I really am a monster.

When you came back, all I wanted was to fall back into my little brother role but you were different. I thought I had to be strong for you. So I kept going. I didn't want everything to be on your shoulders anymore. I wanted to help. It took the Devil himself rising from a seal I broke to make me realize what I'd done. The secrets I kept from you, the way I changed, the way your trust in me began to slip away. You came through that door trying to save me anyway, after all of that. After everything I did to you, you still tried to save me.

When you told me you couldn't trust me anymore, I understood. It hurts more than I can tell you but I understand. I wouldn't trust me either.

I know you hate it when I say I'm sorry but I am. I'm sorry. I wish I could make this better. You could walk up to me right now and tell me to do anything and I would do it if it would make it better.

The question you're asking now is, where am I? I'm leaving. You can't trust me anymore. I've become a threat to you because of it. I won't burden you with that when this is my fault. When everything is my fault. I'll keep hunting. Even if you don't believe we can stop the apocalypse I do. I’ll do everything in my natural power to stop it. I will never, ever tamper with the abilities again, if they are even still there. If I see a demon, I will kill it, no matter what it says or does.

I wish to god I’d listened to you, Dean. You probably don’t want to hear this, but I love you.

Goodbye.

Sammy.

Dean reread the letter three times before he finally set it back down on the pillow where he’d found it. The sheets were still rumpled from where Sam had been sleeping. Dean passed a hand over the area, imagining he could feel the heat of Sam’s body, safe and warm, where he belonged. When he’d told Sam he couldn’t trust him, it had been the painful truth. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to trust his little brother again. He had thought, someday, they could work their way back to that. Never back to the way they had started, they had been through too much for that. But he’d thought they were strong enough to get back to trust, at least.

God, he was sick of this! Dean lifted his hands, settling the palms against his eyes. He was sick of fighting, of angels and demons and heaven and hell. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the old days, when you exorcised demons, killed the bad creatures and saved the day. When everything was simple. When he and Sammy had been inseparable, when they had depended on each other, when trusting one another had been as natural as breathing. When forty years of hell hadn’t been hanging over Dean’s head, mocking him with his weakness.

He was so tired...

Sam thought Dean didn’t believe they could stop the apocalypse. The truth was, Dean didn’t want to. Not really. Death was sounding better by the minute, especially if he didn’t go back to hell. He could be done. He could rest. Finally.

Allowing himself to collapse onto his side, Dean curled his fists into the sheets, trying to deny the hole inside, threatening to consume him. Sam was his only reason. The only thing he fought for. There were others, sure, and he cared about them, but Sammy was his reason to even attempt stopping the end of the world.

And now he was gone. Gone, because Dean couldn’t figure out how to forgive him for his mistake. Because it wasn’t just some normal, everyday mistake. It wasn’t even a disastrous mistake. It was a cataclysmic mistake, preceded by a series of choices so stupid Dean had difficulty wrapping his head around it.

“You chose a demon over your own brother!”

Abruptly, Dean sat up, snatching the letter from the pillow. His eyes scanned over the fifth paragraph and he let out a soft, frustrated groan, releasing the letter so it floated down onto the sheets. Stupid, stupid Sammy. He hadn’t chosen the demon over his brother. He’d chosen it for his brother.

“GODDAMNIT SAMMY!” Dean roared, hot, glorious anger surging through him. The hole he’d been feeling so intensely earlier was drowned by the flush of rage.

Pushing himself to his feet, Dean began to pace the length of the room. Where would Sam go? He hadn’t taken the car, he’d already checked. He might have stolen one. If he had he’d probably changed to a new one already.

Dean paused. He put his palms over his eyes again as he sucked in a long, slow breath. Sam wasn’t thinking clearly. Not right now. He was depressed, hurt and his self loathing levels were probably reaching Dean’s own. Even knowing Dean would follow him, Sam had likely just run, somewhere off the road. There was a forest outside town, a fairly large one. Sam could have easily lost himself somewhere in there.

Grabbing his keys, Dean yanked the door open and stormed out to his car. He let the anger keep up its steady pulse, urging him onwards, giving him focus. The drive out of town only took a few minutes. He kept going until he saw an old, almost completely obscured dirt road. When he was a fair distance from the main road he pulled off and climbed out of the car. Then he stood there a moment, suddenly feeling acutely helpless.

Now what?

For several long minutes Dean just stood there, staring at the trees ahead of him, wishing he could somehow see Sam’s footsteps miraculously appear in the earth before him. Then he did something he had only done once in his life, another time he’d needed to protect Sam. He closed his eyes and asked whoever was listening for help.

“Come on,” Dean murmured. “Come on. Just a hint. Something!”

Without warning Dean felt a shove from behind, sending him stumbling towards the other side of the old road. He whipped around and saw nothing but somehow, he knew what had happened.

“Thanks Cas.”

Dean turned and pushed his way into the thick growth, feeling determined now that he had a direction to take.

Hours passed. The sun had gone down and darkness was beginning to cloak the woods, obscuring Dean’s vision. Sheer stubbornness had kept him going after two hours of nothing, now all he wanted was a place he could rest, just for a minute. When the trees broke and he stumbled out into a small clearing he felt a vague sense of relief, particularly when he heard the rushing of a creek. He’d neglected to bring any water with him when the anger he’d lost a good three hours ago had still been hot in his system.

The loss of his anger and determination and the relief at finding a place to stop made Dean feel suddenly weak. He fell to his knees beside the small creek and leaned down to cup his hands in the cold water before bringing it up to his lips. He took two handfuls before splashing some across his face, trying to keep himself alert. This was starting to seem pointless. Even if Cas had pushed him in the right direction, was Sam even still here? Had he taken a different turn after Dean had come this way?

“Damn it, Sam,” Dean muttered, passing a hand over his eyes and through his hair. “Maybe I should just leave you.”

It felt wrong as soon as he said it. Even after everything that had happened, Dean had still been unable to leave Sam. Even after declaring that he couldn’t trust him, he couldn’t leave him. He wasn’t about to let him go now.

Standing, Dean started to step across the creek when something stopped him. What it was he couldn’t have said, all he knew was that he had the sudden, powerful inclination to turn right and head towards the trees on that side of the stream. He paused for only a second before letting his feet carry him that way.

Never once did he think to look down.

As soon as Dean passed the first tree his foot collided with something solid, something that went ‘oof!’ when he struck it. Immediately, Dean dropped down and pinned Sam before he could stand. His little brother let out a cry, akin to a desperate animal, and rolled so sharply that Dean barely kept his grip on him. They crashed out of the trees and back into the clearing, almost rolling right into the water.

“Let me go!” Sam screamed, twisting violently against the arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

“No!” Dean pressed the length of his body against Sam’s, pushing him down, holding him as still as possible. “Were you sleeping back there? What if an animal found you? You could be dead right now!”

“I don’t care.” Sam’s voice was abruptly much less like a scream and more like a sob.

“Yeah? Well I do!” Dean growled. “You hear me? I care!”

Sam stopped struggling. He stared up at Dean, his eyes wide and confused. “But...I thought...”

“I said I didn’t trust you,” Dean had found his anger again and it was evident in his voice, making it even rougher than usual. “And I don’t. Not yet. How am I supposed to learn how to again if you pull shit like this! Because running away sure as hell doesn’t make me want to trust you again, Sammy!”

Dean didn’t know if it was the use of his nickname, the tone of his voice or maybe both, but now there were tears in Sam’s eyes and Dean couldn’t stand it. He used the grip he already had around Sam’s shoulders to yank him up against him. He felt Sam’s breath ghost across his throat, felt his arms hesitantly reach up to grip his shoulders, and the anger suddenly drained away from him, leaving only the hurt and the overwhelming need in him to somehow, by some miracle he didn’t even really believe in, make this right.

“I read your damn story,” Dean muttered.

A snuffling sound came from where Sam’s face was buried in his neck, followed by a hot drop that Dean assumed was a tear. “Yeah?” Sam asked weakly.

“Yeah. I get it. You’re a stupid son of a bitch. I get it.”

“You get that I’m a stupid son of a bitch or you get why I did it?” Sam tried to pull back suddenly but Dean wouldn’t let him. He moved one hand to hold Sam’s head in place, refusing to let him go. Not again.

“Both,” Dean answered.

The grip around Dean’s shoulders tightened painfully. Sam’s face burrowed further into his neck. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Dean replied with a heavy sigh. “I know you are.”

They stayed that way for a while, supporting each other, letting the weight of what Sam had done hover between them. Dean let himself really feel it and somehow, after a while, it began to seem better. Maybe he really could learn to trust Sam again, as much as he had before. After all, Dean had tortured hundreds of souls in ways the living couldn’t imagine and Sam had forgiven him for that, hadn’t he? Couldn’t he find a way to forgive Sam for this?

“Hey.” Dean sat up and pulled Sam with him so that they were facing each other. “You remember when you asked what you could do and I said nothing?” He reached out and grasped Sam’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “I lied. There is one thing.”

Sam’s eyes were wide and desperate as they met his, the puppy look that still, after everything, threatened all of Dean’s control. “What?”

Shifting his hold, Dean brought his other hand up, gripping the sides of Sammy’s head in what might have been a too-rough hold. “Let me take care of you, damn it!” The emotion overwhelming him made his voice crack but at that point he didn’t care. “Stop trying to be so strong! That’s what I’m here for!”

There were tears in Sam’s eyes again. Frustrated, Dean reached out and roughly wiped at his eyes. “Stop being such a damn girl,” He muttered.

Sam smiled, just slightly, the expression far more sad than it should have been. “Dean. Could you...could you really learn to trust me again?”

For a moment Dean didn’t answer. Then, quietly, “Yeah. I mean, you’re going to have to work your ass off for it, but...Sam, you never even flinched when I told you what I did in hell. You just forgave me, like that. And I wish I could do that for you but I can’t.”

“Dean, you were tortured for thirty years in ways I can’t imagine. I was manipulated. Stupid.” Sam’s expression fell with every word but Dean grabbed hold like it was his salvation.

“Right! Manipulated,” he said quickly, almost earnestly. “I mean, you really were trying. You really thought you were doing what you had to. You’re right, you’re stupid, that’s why you’re supposed to let me take care of you. See?”

Don’t argue with me, Sammy, just say yes, Dean thought.

Sam opened his mouth, looking as though he were going to object. Then he shut it again and nodded once. “So...where does this leave us?”

“On the right path,” Dean answered roughly. “And you better not go straying off it. If you don’t, I don’t. Deal?”

Dean stuck out his hand in the small space between them. Sam stared at it a long moment, then lifted his eyes, so much calmer than they had been a moment ago, and smiled again.

“Deal,” He repeated, and leaned forward, passed Dean’s hand.

When Sam’s lips touched his a million emotions battled for dominance. For a moment he felt dizzy, both from the touch of those lips and the dance of feelings, until one surfaced above the others; a strange sense of rightness. It was such a relief after all the shit they’d been through that he latched onto it without further thought, refusing to let his mind delve deeper into what was happening and simply allowing it to run its course.

When Sam’s tongue tentatively brushed against his lips Dean opened to him without hesitation. He tilted his head a bit, fitting them more closely together as his own tongue slipped out to curl against Sammy’s. They continued the gentle exploration for several moment, blissfully unaware of everything but the feel of each other. It was only when they finally pulled back that Dean realized he’d just kissed his own brother, yet he couldn’t find it in him to be repulsed.

“What just happened?” Dean asked finally.

Just a hint of red flushed across Sam’s cheeks before he ducked his head. “I...it felt right. I didn’t even think about it. I just...did it.”

“Huh.” Dean reached up and touched his own lips, then Sammy’s. His little brother looked over at him, wide eyed puppy expression firmly back in place. “That should have been weird. I mean, really. So why isn’t it?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe somehow it’s a good thing?”

Dean made a strange grunting sound in his throat, acknowledging the statement without actually agreeing. Then a thought occurred to him and for the first time in what seemed years a real, wide grin spread across his face. “I just thought of a whole new way for you to make this up to me.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide. Dean couldn’t tell if he was terrified, interested or both. “Wait, that...it’s not...really?”

Dean laughed. It felt amazing, as though the sound was washing through his entire system, clearing out all the anger and weariness and doubt and fear and replacing it with something new, something they had accidentally discovered even through all the darkness.

“Not here, right?”

Dean stared at him. “You’re picky about location?”

Sam gave him a guilty half grin, as though afraid to so much as touch the connection they were trying to recreate. “The car, at least?”

“Ah, fine,” Dean grumbled, his irritation only half faked. Then, more seriously. “Sam, you know this doesn’t make everything okay, right?”

Sam nodded once, his grin vanishing as quickly as it had come. “I know. Going to have to work my ass off. But it’s better, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “It’s better.”

... * ...

Castiel watched as the two brothers finally stood and began to walk back towards their car. The connection between them, which had begun to fade due to Sam’s actions and Dean’s lack of trust, was shining brightly again, stronger than ever now that they had finally discovered the truth of it. It would take time before it was powerful enough for what needed to be done. He understood that. He only hoped they didn’t succumb later to a sense of wrong that usually went with a relationship of this sort. They had been through enough.

Besides, they were soulmates. Nothing that existed was more right than that.

... * ...

END