PART TWO: The Choiceless Hope
//**//**//
Over the next hour or so, Sam relates the story of his journey to this universe, to this Dean. It comes out in bits and pieces, almost against Sam’s will at first. But this Dean is persistent. He seems genuinely interested, and although he makes a show of not really caring, Sam can tell he does.
Dean wants to hear about the versions of himself that Sam couldn’t stay with, the ones he rejected. At first, Sam thinks it’s because he wants to believe he’s not the failure he always believed he was. There are worse Deans out there.
But as Sam tells his stories of meeting and interacting with those other Deans in those other universes, he begins to understand what Dean might be doing. Sam’s being tested. Dean wants to know if Sam will stay, not leave him as he so obviously expects. Through hearing about the Deans that Sam’s rejected, Dean’s trust grows. His hope.
“What’d’ya say we pack it up and head back to the bunker?”
Sam blinks. He wasn’t ready for Dean to accept him so quickly. It’s almost too good to be true.
“Yeah, sure, if you want.” Then he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head a little. He should’ve known better. “Of course. You want to get back in the saddle.”
Dean shrugs, wipes his mouth with his napkin and drops it on the table along with a couple of twenties.
“Maybe.”
Sam shakes his head as he follows Dean out the diner door and into the fading late afternoon sunlight. He’s tired and he needs a shower.
“You can sleep in the car,” Dean says over his shoulder, almost as if he could read Sam’s mind. “Shower’s better in the bunker anyway.”
Sam watches Dean’s bow legs stalk across the parking lot toward the motel and lets himself pretend, for the second time, that this is really his brother.
He’s almost happy, for the first time in two years.
//**//**//
It can’t last, of course.
Sam nods off in the car almost as soon as it starts moving, seduced by the familiar rumble and vibration of the engine, the smell of sun-warmed leather, the sensation of being at home at last. Safe.
When he jerks awake it’s dark outside. He’s stiff from being crammed up in one position for too long, and he’s drooling. Probably snoring, too.
Dean’s got the music on low, radio tuned to some easy-listening station, his hands sure and steady on the wheel.
“He’s awake!” Dean crows unnecessarily.
Sam unfolds his aching legs in a futile attempt to stretch them in the familiar confines of the passenger seat. He rubs his eyes, blinks out at the darkness.
“Where are we?”
“Almost there,” Dean assures him.
Something in his voice makes Sam look hard at him, but of course, Dean keeps his eyes on the road.
“You okay?” he asks. “You need me to drive?”
“Naw, I’m fine,” Dean assures him, but he obviously isn’t.
“Dean, I know you, man,” Sam says. “I can tell something’s wrong.”
Dean clenches his jaw, obviously biting back a retort about how Sam doesn’t know him, Sam’s not his brother, yada yada, and Sam’s ready for it. After two years of dealing with Dean’s shit at its shittiest, Sam’s ready for anything.
But his not-brother just reaches for the volume knob on the radio.
“I’m fine, Sam,” he growls as he turns up the music, drowning out any attempt at further conversation.
//**//**//
It’s not until the next morning, after Sam’s had a shower and a good night's sleep and Dean’s made him breakfast, that he finally figures it out.
“You think I can bring him back, your Sam.”
Dean turns his coffee cup around in his hands, doesn’t answer and doesn’t look up, so Sam knows he’s right.
Sam huffs out a disgusted breath.
“Really? Really, Dean? That’s what this is about for you?”
Dean still doesn’t answer, hunching his shoulders defensively.
Then it hits Sam.
“That’s why those other Sams left, isn’t it? They figured it out even quicker than I did.” He shakes his head. “Jesus.”
Dean tenses, finally looking up to meet his eyes.
“I’m not your brother, Sam. I can’t be him for you.”
Sam huffs out another breath. “You keep saying that, but that’s not what you mean. You’re not even willing to try. You just wanted me to come back to the bunker with you and come up with some way to resurrect your brother. You’re just using me!”
Dean dips his chin and looks up at Sam under raised brows. It’s a perfect imitation of an expression Sam’s brother used to give him when he was playing with him, when he had just pulled one over on Sam and he knew he was getting away with it.
Sam wants to hit him so badly that he has to clasp his hands together to keep from doing it.
“Damn it, Dean, I’m not doing that,” he hisses, leaning forward across the table, right into Dean’s face. “Fuck you for thinking I would. Fuck you for thinking it’s okay to do it in the first place! As if your brother would want that.”
Dean shakes his head. “Don’t care if he does or not,” he says, pushing his lips out in a pout as he sucks his cheeks in. “Like I’ve told you before, I can’t live with you dead.”
Sam clenches his jaw and slams his hand down on the table, making Dean jump.
“I’m not him, remember?” He almost yells, definitely raises his voice. “I’m not your brother, goddamn it!”
“No, you’re not, and if you weren’t such a stubborn ass, you’d help me do this. Maybe help yourself in the process.”
Sam shakes his head, flummoxed and furious. “How does bringing your brother back help me?”
Dean shrugs, does that clueless thing with his face and body that makes Sam want to shake him because he’s so unfazed by his totally whacked-out plan. Doesn’t even see how manipulative he’s being. Doesn’t care because nothing matters except getting his brother back. Damn him.
“Figure you’ve got an in with the guy upstairs,” Dean says. “Maybe he’d bring both of them back, for you.”
“Both of them?” Sam doesn’t understand until he does. “Oh my god.”
Dean nods. “Exactly. God. Jack. Whatever. He likes you, Sam. He always has. He’d do this for you, I know he would.”
“You - You’re insane,” Sam breathes, almost reverently. He’s impressed at Dean’s audacity, his single-mindedness when it comes to his brother.
Sam’s brother loved him this way, exclusively and without exception. Sam’s pretty sure no one else would ever replace him in his Dean’s heart, either. Even at peace in Heaven, Dean would do whatever it took to get back to him.
Which is how Sam decides he has to go through with Dean’s plan, despite the promise he made to his Dean. Despite Jack’s assurance that he would be a hands-off god and would not meddle in human affairs.
Sam thinks he can talk Jack into helping him with this.
And after two years without Dean, Sam doesn’t really give a rat’s ass about his stupid promise.
“Okay,” he says, clenching his jaw as he nods stiffly to his not-brother. “Let’s do this.”
//**//**//
Sam’s not even sure that Jack - his Jack - is the supreme being in this universe. Chuck was the one god to rule all the universes, but that doesn’t mean Jack is. Maybe he chose to rule only in the universe where Sam and his Dean were born. Maybe he doesn’t exist in this universe at all.
Maybe this Dean’s Sam isn’t in Heaven.
In the end, Sam decides it doesn’t matter. He can use a summoning spell to bring Jack to Earth, just as he did with Rowena. He’s so confident of his ability to perform the right spell, he doesn’t even bother explaining it to Dean.
When Jack appears, the Earth doesn’t shake. No thunder crashes or lightning flashes. He’s just there, in the middle of the summoning room (Dean calls it the dungeon), looking up at Sam in that bland way of his.
“Sam.” He glances at Dean and frowns. “Dean.”
“Jack, we need your help,” Sam blurts out. “We need our brothers back.”
“As I have told you, I won’t interfere like Chuck did. I’m not writing your story.”
“No, I get that,” Sam nods, adopting his most sympathetic, reasonable tone. “I know you’re a hands-off kind of god, and I respect that. But we’re just not making it. I’m not making it. I need my brother.”
“Your brother is waiting for you in Heaven, Sam,” Jack says, as placid as ever.
“No, I know, and I appreciate that. I’m grateful to you, I really am. I just - I can’t wait that long. I’m not gonna make it. And these guys - “ he sweeps his arm out to indicate Dean. “I can’t keep doing this. They’re all so broken. And I mean, so am I. I’m a mess, Jack, without Dean. I can’t do it. I can’t keep doing it.”
He takes a deep breath and turns on his puppy-eyes. “Please help me.”
Jack gazes at him for a moment, considering. Then he looks at Dean.
“I suppose he’s not surviving without his brother, either.”
Dean bristles. “Listen, you angelic bag of dicks -” he starts, stepping toward Jack with obvious malice.
Sam puts his arm out, presses his hand to Dean’s chest, and Dean stops, reacting to Sam on instinct.
“We don’t even know if there is a Heaven in this universe, but if there is, he really needs his brother back, man. He’s just not making it without him.” Sam keeps his voice soft, pleading.
Jack’s placid expression softens. “Dean thinks you’re having a normal life down here,” he tells Sam. “He thinks you’re finally getting everything you could never have with him. A wife. Kids. Grandkids, eventually.”
“I’m not,” Sam says firmly. “I won’t. It’s not in me. I can’t make it without him. And if I ever thought I could, I was wrong. It’s just not happening, man. I need him.”
“And you,” Jack says to Dean. “Your brother wants you to learn to let him go, at least temporarily. You did it when he was in college, and then again for that year with Lisa and Ben.”
“I never let him go, not for an instant,” Dean growls. “I can’t. That wasn’t living, those years when he was in school, or that year with Lisa. It was existing. There’s a difference.”
“And you couldn’t get him back on your own, could you?” Jack notes. “You had to find a Sam who would help you do something like this.”
“So sue me!” Dean spits out, taking a step forward so that Sam has to stop him again. “I ain’t made like that! I can’t just turn it off and on, this thing between him and me. It doesn’t work that way!”
“Grief is a normal human emotion,” Jack notes gently. “Other humans must learn to live with it. Other humans learn to carry on without their lost loved ones.”
“Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed, we are not like other humans,” Dean barks angrily. “Now, give me back my brother!”
Jack sighs as he turns back to Sam. “I can speak to them both, but I cannot make them do something they do not want to do.”
“Thank you,” Sam breathes, almost shaking with gratitude.
He waits for Jack to disappear, but all he does is close his eyes for a moment, then open them again.
“Dean says he told you to keep living, Sam,” Jack says. “He told you to always keep fighting. He promised you he would be with you, every day.” Jack puts his hand on his heart. “Here.”
“You just spoke with him?” Sam stares.
Jack nods. “We spoke for several minutes. Time moves differently in Heaven. And I am everywhere at once.”
“Right.”
Jack turns to Dean. “Your brother understands. He will return to you.”
“Just like that?” Sam’s flabbergasted.
Dean lowers his chin to his chest, but Sam can see his little satisfied smile. He’s won, the bastard.
“You must return to your world, Sam,” Jack tells him gently. “You must stop jumping between universes. It upsets the natural order.”
Despair makes Sam’s chest constrict, as if his blood is turning to ice, slowly congealing inside his veins.
“I can’t stop,” he chokes out. “I will keep looking. I can’t help it. Finding him, or someone like him, is all I can do.”
“You are obsessed,” Jack notes. “Stubborn.”
“It’s been said,” Sam agrees, clenching his jaw against the ache in his chest. He needs to punch someone, preferably multiple times.
A movement catches his eye. Sam -- another Sam -- is standing in the doorway, staring back at him.
Dean doesn’t hesitate, crossing the room in two determined strides, gathering up his brother in his arms and burying his face in the juncture between his shoulder and his neck, rising up on his tiptoes to do it.
Sam knows how that feels. His arms ache with loss, his grief as fresh as if Dean only died yesterday.
“You must go home now, Sam,” Jack reminds him as they watch the reunion together. Sam wonders if Jack feels the sudden rightness in the room, as if the entire universe had reset itself, recalibrating itself to the Winchesters reunited.
When Dean doesn’t stop hugging his brother, doesn’t turn and thank Sam and Jack, Sam gathers what little dignity he has left and turns his back on them.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
Jack nods, and suddenly they’re not in that other Dean’s universe anymore. They’re back in Sam’s bunker, in his universe. He turns to the doorway where Dean and his brother stood a moment before, but of course, they’re not there. They’re back home with each other, where they belong.
“Tell Dean he’s a manipulative bastard,” Sam growls at Jack, still clenching his fists. “Remind him that if our positions were reversed, he would never stop trying to find a way to get back to me, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. He’s lying to himself if he thinks I can go on without him. I’m not that guy. Never was, never could be. Without him, I’m damaged and broken and obsessive as shit. And I will keep doing this -- searching for him -- never stopping -- until I die. Tell him.”
Jack smiles, just a little. “Tell him yourself.”
Sam whirls around, and there he is. Dean. His Dean.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam blinks back the sudden tears in his eyes, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. He knows without a moment’s doubt that this is his Dean. His soulmate. Everything about him feels different from all those other Deans. Sam can almost feel his soul clicking into place with his brother’s, two pieces fitting perfectly together. Finally.
“It’s been two years, man,” Sam says in a choked whisper. “It’s been two years, for me.”
Dean steps into the room, his eyes sweeping over Sam from head to toe.
“I can tell. You look like shit.”
He takes a step closer.
“What’s going on, Sammy? Huh? Jack says you’re having a hard time.”
Sam sucks in a breath. This is just a visit, he realizes. Dean’s just here to check up on him. Then he’ll go back to Heaven again. He’ll leave Sam alone to go on living. That’s always been his plan, for Sam to go on without him.
“You haven’t even missed me, have you?” Sam chokes out, swiping furiously at the tear that slips down his cheek. “Everything’s good up there in Heaven.”
Dean ducks his head, shifts from foot to foot. “Like I was just telling Bobby, it’s almost perfect.”
Sam nods, jaw working angrily, jealousy stabbing through him like a lance.
“You found Bobby, huh? You and him having a nice time, just the two of you?”
Dean shrugs. “I just got there,” he says. “Bobby was my welcome party. It’s been literally five minutes for me, Sammy.”
“I burned your body, Dean.” Sam grits out, shaking with anger and resentment.
“Ah.” Dean studies him silently for a moment, frowning. “You were supposed to let me go, Sam.”
“Did a bang-up job of that, as I’m sure Jack told you,” Sam says. “And I’ll keep doing a bang-up job after you go back. That’s just how things are.”
“Go back?” Dean stares. “Who said anything about going back?”
Sam blinks. “What?”
His rage evaporates, replaced by shock tinged with a tiny sliver of hope.
“You heard me,” Dean says with a shrug. “Jack says I can stay if I want.”
For a moment, Sam doesn’t know what to say. He feels deflated, helplessly hopeful, as if his earlier anger and frustration never existed. But it’s still there, simmering under the surface.
Then he gathers his thoughts.
“So do you? Want to stay?” He tries to sound accusing, but he’s not sure he doesn’t just sound pathetic and pleading.
“I dunno, Sam. Do you want me to stay?”
Dean always does this to him. Turns him inside out and upside down in all the most infuriating ways. He’s the biggest jerk Sam’s ever known.
And Sam’s had enough, he really has. It’s been two years of universe-hopping, dealing with weirder and darker Deans than this one could ever be, recently fucking the one that manipulated him into summoning Jack and getting his brother back.
He’s had enough.
Without thinking about what he’s doing, he lunges at Dean, grabbing him and pushing him hard into the wall.
“What do you think?” he hisses into Dean’s face before kissing him, hard and deep and thorough. “I don’t believe you,” he gasps against Dean’s mouth.
“About what?” Dean’s kissing back, just as hard and sloppy.
“You never wanted me to have any kind of life without you,” Sam accuses, biting at Dean’s lips possessively. “Admit it.”
“No,” Dean breathes. His hands tangle in Sam’s hair, tugging.
“Admit it!” Sam repeats, sucking on Dean’s lips between bites. “Tell me!”
“Always wanted what was best for you, Sammy,” Dean insists, tugging harder on Sam’s hair.
“Liar,” Sam hisses. “You hated it when I tried to be happy without you. With Jessica. With Amelia. With Ruby, when all I was trying to do was survive without you.”
“Damn it, Sam.” Dean pushes him away and Sam lets him. They stand two feet away from each other, breathing hard, frustrated in more ways than one. “I just wanted you to have a normal life. A wife. Kids. Grandkids.”
Sam shakes his head. “Never,” he insists. “Never gonna happen. Without you, I can’t do it. I won’t!”
“So you were just gonna find another me? Huh? That was your plan?”
“I couldn’t bring you back, could I?” Sam counters. “You made me promise not to. So what choice did I have?”
Dean’s gaze sweeps over him, taking in his slimmer-than-usual body, the circles under his eyes, his hollow cheeks. Sam knows what he looks like. He saw himself in the mirror this morning, listened while that other Dean bitched at him about not eating or sleeping enough.
“Two years, huh,” Dean says. “You look like shit.”
“It’s been said.”
“So that other me didn’t take care of you.” It’s a statement, but Sam can hear the jealousy and resentment.
“He barely knew me,” Sam says. “I only found him yesterday.”
“What the hell, Sam? How many were there?”
“Too many.” Sam’s jaw works.
“Dammit, Sammy.” Dean steps closer, reaches up to cup Sam’s face, brushes a tear away that Sam didn’t even know he’d shed. “What do I gotta do to make you stop doing crazy shit, man?”
“Come home to me,” Sam breathes. “Stay with me. Don’t die.”
“We don’t do so well without each other, do we?” Dean’s thumb brushes over Sam’s lips. Sam closes his eyes and shakes his head, can’t prevent the little whimper that escapes his throat.
“You know, Jack fixed things up there, in Heaven,” Dean muses softly as he runs his fingertips lightly over Sam’s face. “It’s not just memories. It’s everybody sharing. We can visit Mom and Dad, Bobby, anybody else we wanna see.”
Keeping his eyes closed, Sam feels Dean move closer, feels his warmth as he steps into Sam’s personal space, bodies almost pressed together. Sam parts his lips in a sigh as Dean caresses his face, runs his fingers through Sam’s hair.
“I was looking forward to you getting there so we could go visiting together,” Dean says.
Sam tips his head down, eyes fluttering open as he rests his forehead against Dean’s.
“Just us,” he murmurs. “I don’t like to share.”
Dean smiles. “I’ve noticed.”
Dean kisses him slow and gentle this time, making Sam moan.
//**//**//
Later, in Dean’s bed, Sam pleads with Dean to retire.
“I can’t lose you again,” he says plaintively. “I won’t.”
“Hunting’s all I know, Sammy,” Dean protests. “It’s who I am.”
“I know, but you weren’t gonna do it in Heaven, right? Nothing to hunt there, I’m guessing. So you can stop. And I’m asking you to stop. I wish I had asked you sooner.”
“Sam -”
“I saw the job application on your desk,” Sam notes. “I know you were already thinking about it.”
Dean takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Sam waits, cheek pressed to Dean’s shoulder, his hand splayed wide over Dean’s bare chest, thumb rubbing idly across his nipple.
“You wouldn’t be disappointed if we stopped hunting?”
“Disappointed?” Sam lifts his head so he can gaze into Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes flit to his, then away. Spots of color brighten his cheeks.
Dean shrugs. “All that stuff you used to say, about how you looked up to me, how I was your big hero.”
“You are my hero, Dean,” Sam assures him. “But not because you can kill monsters.”
Dean smiles, takes Sam’s hand and tangles their fingers together, presses the back of Sam’s hand to his lips.
“It’s time for us to step back, let other hunters do the heavy lifting,” Sam goes on.
Dean gives a little shake of his head, still not looking Sam in the eye.
“People die all the time, Sam. People get hit by cars, break their necks falling down stairs, get some horrible disease and die slow and ugly. Even if we retire, that doesn’t mean we won’t die. Everybody dies.”
Sam shakes his head. “It’s not the same for us, and you know it.”
Dean shrugs. “Other people learn to live without their loved ones, sometimes for a long time. It’s normal.”
“Not for us,” Sam insists. “It’s not normal for us to be separated. Period.”
Dean looks at him then, studies Sam’s face as if he’s looking for the answer to the question he’s been asking all his life.
“Yeah,” Dean says finally. “I suppose that’s right.”
“I know I let you down, Dean,” Sam goes on. “But I’d do it again. I’d do whatever it took to get back to you, every time. Just as you would for me. Even if it meant having to tear the universe apart. I know I promised I wouldn’t bring you back, so I did what I had to, just to get by until I could get back to you. It was always about surviving until I could get back to you. Every time.”
Dean reaches up to tuck Sam’s hair behind his ear.
“You didn’t let me down, Sammy,” Dean assures him. He shakes his head. “You didn’t.”
He looks away, clears his throat, and Sam can tell he’s making an effort to be emotionally honest.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says finally. “I’m sorry I made you promise not to bring me back. I really thought you could make it without me. I thought -- with me out of the picture -- you could finally have a normal life.”
Sam shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”
Dean nods. “So I’ve been told.”
//**//**//
They decide on one of the safe houses Bobby let them stay in years ago. It’s well stocked with non-perishable supplies and it’s warded at least as well as the bunker, not that that’s a high standard. But they figure it’s good enough. Nothing big seems to be looking for them anymore anyway.
Neither of them wants to stay in the bunker, now that they’re retired. It’s a place of work, not to mention a lot of bad memories. Good ones, too, but a lot of bad ones. Sam would just as soon move as far away from the interdimensional portal in his bedroom as he can get.
Jody’s less surprised to see them than Sam thinks she should be, but she accepts the key to the bunker in exchange for Miracle, who has obviously missed them and seems delighted to jump into the car for the drive to Oregon.
The house in the Oregon Coast Range is only thirty minutes from the ocean, so after they drop off their stuff they head to the beach to catch the last hour of sunlight.
It’s cold and windy, but Sam’s never been happier. He’s surprised when Dean links his arm with his, then shoves his hands in the pocket of his jacket. It’s too windy to talk, but Miracle runs up ahead to sniff at some driftwood, then runs back to them, barking with excitement and making them laugh.
At this time of day and this early in the season, they’re alone on the beach, which extends on ahead and behind them as far as they can see. The trees and cliffs of the shoreline jut starkly upward, forming a natural barrier against the sea that looks ancient and alien. Sam imagines it looked just like this when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Dean’s warmth seeps through their jackets, keeping Sam from being cold. When he glances at his brother, his skin seems to glow with the light of the setting sun, making him unusually beautiful. Ethereal. Sam can almost imagine they’re in Heaven already.
Heaven can’t be better than this.
Dean catches him looking and smirks. He knows he’s beautiful, the bastard. He knows how Sam can’t help looking sometimes.
Sam needs to look more often. He needs the reassurance that Dean’s still with him, not dead or dying. He’s not another version of himself because Sam’s Dean is in Heaven, waiting for him.
Sam doesn’t have to settle for that, after all.
Sam squeezes Dean’s arm, pulls it closer against him, and huddles against his brother as they move perfectly in sync down the beach.
fin
