Fic: Meet you up there where the path runs straight and high
Hello friends! It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? I keep saying I'm going to be better about posting to LJ and I keep... not being better.
Anyway. This is a fic I was noodling around with for a while, and then the Now It's Perfect event happened (check it out!) and it gave me the impetus to finish it. And bonus - amberdreams created some fantastic art to go with!
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Genre: Gen/gencest but Wincest-compliant, reference to Sam/Jessica
Length: About 7000 words
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore, Jack Kline
Synopsis: This is Sam, learning how Heaven works
1: This is Heaven
They’re standing on a bridge and it’s real, everything is real, not little boxes of memories but his real brother, and it’s all a little too much for Sam to take in. He can’t keep looking at Dean. It’s like staring into the sun. He looks away, looks at trees and sky instead, and the Impala, Christ, even the Impala is here. But of course she is. It wouldn’t be Dean’s Heaven without her.
When he turns back, Dean is still smiling, practically radiating joy, but then his eyes narrow and his smile falters.
“What?” Sam asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just… I thought you’d last longer than this.”
“Longer than what?”
“Come on, man. I’ve been here for, like, an afternoon. Did you even have time to torch my corpse?”
“What? An afternoon? Dean, you’ve been gone…” So long. Sam can’t even say it, can’t think of the years, the decades that have passed since he last saw his brother. He clears his throat. “A long time, man. You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Couldn’t have been that long,” Dean says. “Look at you. It hasn’t even been a year, has it?”
Sam looks down at his steady hands, free of wrinkles and age spots. “Oh.”
“Seriously. How much time did you have, after me? What took you out?” Dean suddenly looks stricken. “You didn’t… I mean, I knew you’d be messed up, but I didn’t think…”
It takes Sam a moment to catch on. “No! No. I mean, there were times I wanted to, but no. I kept going. I stopped hunting, and I just…” He laughs. “Jesus, Dean, I don’t know why I look young. I got old. I got married and I had a kid and I got old.”
Dean’s face is alight with joy again. “You’ve got a wife? And a kid?”
“Well, the wife, ah, that wasn’t, that didn’t last very long. But the kid. He’s amazing. Not a kid any more, though. All grown up, and smart, and funny, and kind…”
But it’s so wrong. Dean died and Sam lived, lived an entire life without his brother’s physical presence in it, and it’s wrong to take pleasure in his life, in the child that he never would have had if his brother hadn’t died. And Dean needs to understand. He needs to know how much he still mattered.
“I didn’t just run off and start enjoying life, you know. It took a long time. But I finally realized that it wasn’t fair to you, and to everyone we lost, to waste the life I had. I had to go out and start living it.”
Dean puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Stop it, Sam. Stop apologizing for living. I hoped that’s what you would do. You think you should have spent the rest of your life moping around, mourning me? You think that’s what I wanted? That ain’t the life I would have picked out for you.” He grins. “Now get in the car and tell me about this kid of yours. Smart and funny? Takes after his dad and his Uncle Dean.”
They drive. It’s almost overwhelming after so many years. The old car, his old (young) body, the sight and sound of his brother in the driver’s seat… these should all be unfamiliar, but they’re immediately comfortable. This is where he should be.
As he drives, Dean explains that Jack fixed Heaven for everyone. It’s not tiny cells full of memories any more, and Sam finds that almost too much to think about right now. Sam tells Dean about DJ - Dean Jonathan, because his other grandfather’s name was John too, and how weird is that - and about his marriage.
“It started as, well, I guess you’d call it friends with benefits. When we found out she was pregnant we got married so she could be on my health insurance.”
“Because you were the one with a real job and health insurance?” Dean says, slightly incredulous.
“Yeah, I know. Who would have thought?” Sam laughs. “I thought we might actually make it, at first. We might be that rom-com couple who gets fake married and then falls in love. And then one day she said I know you love me as much as you can, and I was willing to accept that until I saw how much you loved our son, and I realized I deserve that too, and I’m afraid I’ll resent you if I don’t go after it.”
“Damn.”
Sam glances down at his ring finger, now bare. He’d kept wearing his ring after the divorce, partly because it helped keep women away and partly because it reminded him of his son, reminded him that he had someone he needed to stay alive for. It was a reminder he still needed, occasionally, in the years after Dean’s death. “No, no, she was right. I didn’t… I couldn’t… anyway. It wasn’t her, it was me. She was loveable. I just didn’t have it in me any more, I guess. She deserved better.”
“Deserved better,” Dean huffs skeptically. “She find it?”
“I think so. I hope so. She did get married again. He was a good guy, a good stepfather. He died a few years before I did.” And that’s weird, too, thinking about his own death in the past tense. It shouldn’t be so unfamiliar. After Cold Oak he’d often thought about his life in terms of before I died and after I died. Then it was before the cage and after the cage, until all of that was eclipsed by before Dean died and after Dean died.
Sam shakes his head. This is a train of thought he doesn’t need to follow. Dean is sitting next to him, smiling in the warm sunlight, and that’s what matters.
“A good guy?” Dean says. “Maybe we’ll go visit him someday.”
If that’s possible, it confirms that everything Sam thought he knew about Heaven, the individual Heavens Ash told them about, was wrong.
“You can really do that? Anyone can go to anyone’s Heaven? How does that even work?”
Dean grins. “I haven’t really figured it out yet. All I know is, everything’s different now. I’m gonna take you to Bobby Singer himself and let him explain it.”
2: This is how Heaven works, according to Bobby
"You think about someone you want to see," Bobby says, "and you just start moving. Walk, drive, swim, whatever. And before too long, you find 'em."
"Anyone?" says Dean. "You mean, I could think about Miss October and just start driving and end up at her house?"
"Hell if I know. I didn't go looking for anyone." Bobby turns to smile at Karen. "I found who I wanted to find and then I stopped." He found Karen, all right. Waiting for him in the clean and cozy version of their old house. There are no dusty books on demons and monsters, no sigils carved into the lintels or devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. It’s like a funhouse mirror version of Bobby’s place, familiar but not.
"Okay, but does it have to be a person?” Dean asks. “What about a place? Like, remember that diner in Tucumcari, Sam? With the pie?"
"Why are you just now learning how this works?" Sam asks. "It's been forty years. I can't believe you've been here forty years and you haven't seen Mom and Dad yet."
Dean rolls his eyes, exasperated. "I told you, I got here, I went for a drive, and then you showed up. It was like, a few hours, tops. Honestly, you were here so fast, I was afraid the goddamn vampires got you right after they got me."
Sam looks to Bobby, who shrugs. "Felt like longer to me, but time's weird up here."
~ ~ ~
They visit Mom and Dad, who are young, and then aren't. Even when their parents look like their older selves, they seem lighter somehow, like they're just setting out and haven't lived through years of separation and trauma.
When they get back in the Impala, Sam says "That was weird."
"But good," Dean says.
"Yes, good. But weird. They were more like when they first got married. You know, when we went back in time and tried to convince Mom not to have us. They were like that John and Mary."
"Holy crap," Dean laughs, "our lives are weird.”
“Our lives were weird,” Sam says. “We don't really have lives any more, do we? What do we call this? The afterlife?"
Dean shrugs. "Whatever we wanna call it, I guess. Anyway, I think it's time to find that diner in Tucumcari now."
"How can you even remember a specific diner?"
"Oh, you'd remember a diner if they had the best salad you'd ever had, or the best organic goat cheese, or whatever."
Maybe. Maybe not. Sam's got more memories to sift through than Dean does. An extra forty years' worth.
(An extra forty years on earth plus a millennia in Hell. They don't really talk about that part. Dean asks, once, do you still remember... everything? Sam says I do, but it doesn't bother me; it's almost like it happened to someone else, or I saw it in a movie. Dean nods and says yeah, me too. They don't talk about it again. But all of Sam's bad memories - not just lifetimes of torture in Hell, but topside too, everyone he loved dying and dying and dying - they're all still there. They just don't hurt any more.)
They explore. They find the diner in Tucumcari, and pie served by a strawberry blonde waitress in her fifties. Dean flirts with her relentlessly. It’s not until they’re finishing their pie that Sam realizes half the people in the diner are good looking men, and they’re all flirting with the waitress. Is she a memory or a prop in their Heaven? Or are they part of hers?
But Dean was right, the pie is amazing. Sam points that probably all the pie in Heaven is amazing. Dean takes this as a challenge and insists they search for more memorable pies. So far, the only complaint he has about Heaven is that this version of Karen Singer isn't a pie-baking machine like zombie Karen was.
They find more memorable pies, and burgers, and the coldest beer in the lower 48 states. They find lost friends too. Sometimes they go together. Sometimes they go separately. Sam's careful to only look for people who would likely want to see him again. He wonders if Lisa is here, and if Cas's memory wipe still works in Heaven. He doesn't ask, and Dean doesn't offer. And Dean doesn't ask who Sam's looking for when he wanders off on his own, but always seems a little relieved when he comes back. They don't talk about it.
3: This is how Heaven works, according to Dean
Okay, so once, Dean does talk about it.
They visit the Grand Canyon. It takes a few days to get there - whatever “days” are in Heaven - but Dean insists on driving for hours, even though it’s not necessary. “The journey is as important as the destination,” he says. And there’s always a good song on the radio, a shady spot to pull off the road when they need a nap, a cold beer in the cooler, and a taco truck parked at a scenic turnoff when they get hungry. So. It’s good.
The sun is just beginning to set when they finally reach the canyon. They sit on the hood of the Impala and quietly watch the sky fade from brilliant orange to deep purple. As always, the beer stays cold and there are fireflies but no mosquitos.
Dean is the one who eventually breaks the silence.
“You know, I did try to visit Miss October.”
Sam knows exactly who he’s talking about. They’d found the magazine in their crappy trailer when Dean was 13 or 14. Miss October had smooth tan skin, dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and those soft brown eyes like Cassie and Lisa and oh, wait. Was Miss October a favorite because Dean already had a type? Or was Miss October the reason Dean had a type? That’s an interesting question, but Sam decides not to pursue it right now. He’s got plenty of time.
“Try?” he asks. “Meaning it didn’t work?”
“Kind of, but not really. I mean, I ended up in that trailer, you know, where we were living when I found that magazine. So I got into the memory, but I didn’t ever make it to her personally. It could be that I just didn’t remember her right, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“It does seem unlikely,” Sam laughs. “You spent a lot of time with her, as I recall.”
“Shut up.” Dean shifts uncomfortably. “What I’m thinking is, it shows you can’t just visit anybody. It has to be someone you know, and someone who’s willing to see you. Which is good, because it would mean not everybody could just pop in and see us. It’s like Jack’s new system keeps them away if we wouldn’t put out the welcome mat for them.”
That’s actually a relief. “I guess that explains why Grandpa Campbell hasn’t come to see us,” Sam says.
Dean laughs. “Oh, Jesus. That would be awkward. Or Roy and Walt. I can’t believe we forgave those assholes. Or shit, what about Nick?”
“Nick? You think that guy’s in Heaven?”
“With any luck, we’ll never know. Oh, hey, what about your first wife, Becky?”
“Dude. Becky was not nearly as bad as Samuel or Roy or Walt.”
“But do you want to see her?”
“Absolutely not.”
They’re quiet for a while. Sam tries not to make a list of the people who wouldn’t welcome him into their Heaven. Or the people he wouldn’t invite into his.
Again, Dean is the one who speaks. "You seen her yet?" he asks. He keeps his gaze focused on the stars above them and not on Sam.
"Her who?"
"You know who."
Yes, Sam knows. And yes, he's thought about it, thought about walking into Jessica's Heaven, thought about how she'd react. Would she gasp in horror? Would she look at him, cold and distant, say my version of Heaven doesn't include Sam Winchester, and turn away?
"I don't know if she'd want to see me."
"Of course she'd want to see you."
"Even though I killed her?"
Now Dean turns to look at him. "The fuck? You didn’t kill her."
"She died because of me. She was murdered because I loved her."
"But that doesn't mean -"
"It does, Dean. It means exactly that. She was 22 years old and she should have had her entire life ahead of her and she died because of me."
Dean turns back to the stars and finishes his beer before speaking again.
"You know, when Cas broke your wall, the one keeping Hell out of your head… you remember why he did that? Because he wanted to distract me. We were trying to stop him from opening Purgatory, and he wanted to keep me occupied. Do you blame me for that?"
"No, of course not."
"Well, it's the same thing."
"It's not."
"It is, man. Look. You and I are responsible for a lot of fucked-up things -"
Sam laughs. "If that isn't the most Winchester pep talk ever."
"Shut up. You know what I mean. Yes, some bad things happened because of shit we did. But Jessica's death is not one of them. That's on demons, and - and fucking Chuck. Not you." It's the first time either of them has said Chuck's name in Heaven. Dean says it like he's spitting something foul out of his mouth.
"But what if she doesn't think so? What if I go find her and she blames me anyway?"
Dean shrugs up at the stars. "If I’m right, you can’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you would have a chance to tell her you're sorry."
4: This is how Heaven works, according to Jessica
Sam doesn't do it that day, or the next. But eventually he stands on the porch of the house he shares with Dean, watching a cloud of butterflies dance in the midday sun, and something deep inside says it's time. He holds her in his mind, blonde curls and blue eyes, brilliant smile and infectious laugh, smart and feisty and passionate, and he starts walking.
He might never make it to her. He might simply walk into a memory instead; Heaven’s way of letting him know he’s not on the VIP list.
The wooded path behind their little house usually goes up into the mountains, but now it starts to slope downhill after he's walked for a few minutes. After a few more minutes the trees thin out and Sam emerges onto a wide expanse of beach. He recognizes the lone structure on the shore almost immediately - it's the beach house Jess's parents used to rent every summer. He stayed with them there for a week once. It would be their last summer together, although neither of them knew it at the time. The actual house was one of a string of beachfront homes, but this version of it sits alone on hundreds of yards of sun-warmed sand. He can see a family playing in the surf just a few yards past the house. A man, a woman, and a slender teenage girl. When Sam steps out of the trees the girl looks up, sweeps her wet hair out of her eyes, and runs toward him.
She's so young. Twelve or thirteen, maybe, with shorter hair and more freckles. As she gets closer her hair grows longer, her face matures, and she gets taller. By the time she reaches him she is the same tall, golden girl he barely kissed goodbye in Palo Alto.
"Hey, Sam."
Sam's throat is too dry to speak. He stands there blinking at her until she finally says "come here, you." Then he closes the few steps between them and wraps her in his arms. She puts her arms around him, settles her cheek into his shoulder, and sighs.
They stand that way for a long time, but eventually Sam pulls back. Jessica clasps his hands as if she needs to stop him from leaving. “No,” he says. “I just want to get a look at you. You’re so beautiful.” She smiles at him, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight, and pulls him in for a kiss.
There’s a fallen log on the beach that’s just the right size (of course it is… at some point Sam will get used to everything in Heaven being just right) and they sit on it, still holding hands. A strand of hair drifts into Jessica’s face, and Sam reaches out to tuck it behind her ear. She smiles up at him the way she always did, like she’s been sealed in amber, unchanged for decades. But no, she was different when he first saw her playing in the water.
“You looked so young when I first got here,” he says. “Like a teenager.”
Jess shrugs and gazes out at her parents still splashing just off the shore. They look young, too. Too young to be the parents of a college student. Young enough to be the parents of a beautiful, free-spirited teenager who hasn’t yet left home to meet the man who will cause her death.
"I think in Heaven, you're the age you need to be. Or the age you want to be, I guess, depending on the circumstances. I mean, when I’m here with my parents, I'm almost always thirteen years old. That was a really good time for me and my family. But sometimes I'm younger. And then sometimes I visit friends, or places I knew in college, and I'm older. You're the same way, even if you don't feel it happening. Right now you look exactly like you did the last time I saw you." She reaches up to touch his face. "But when you first got here, you looked older. Maybe in your thirties? Is that how old you were when…?"
"When I died? No." But it's halfway true. Part of him died, and part of him had to carry on. Sam runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the bangs that cover his forehead the way they haven’t in decades. The scar on his palm (stone number one, make me your stone number one) is missing. "I actually… dammit, Jess. I lived a long time. I had a child. I got old. I had everything you should have had. I'd trade it all if I could. I'd give you that life instead of me, if there was a way. I'm so sorry."
She puts a gentle hand on his arm. "It's not your fault, Sam."
"Yes it is. You don't understand, you don't know what happened."
"I do, actually. Well. Some of it. Brady's been here."
Oh, fuck, Brady. Sam hasn’t really allowed himself to think about Brady the person. His fury at the demon who possessed Brady, who used his body to kill Jessica, completely blinded him to the trauma his friend endured. Was he alive when the demon he was housing set Jess alight? When Sam shoved the demon knife between his ribs? Did he feel it? Did he know?
"What did he tell you?"
"He didn't know everything, but you know he wasn't really himself at the end, right?"
"So he told you about…?"
"About demons.”
"Oh, God, Jess. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I never would have ever spoken the first word to you if I'd known I was putting you in harm's way. I went to Stanford because I wanted to leave all of that evil behind, and it followed me there and I led it right to you. None of this was supposed to happen to you."
"Don’t blame yourself, Sam. It’s not your fault."
But she has no idea just how much her death was Sam’s fault. And he owes her the truth.
(What if he had gone to a different school? Would she have gone to Stanford and lived out her life? Would her Heaven include a husband? Would children and grandchildren meet her there one day? And if Jessica had been spared, who would have taken her place in the story? Wouldn’t Chuck have placed some poor innocent girl in Sam’s path no matter which direction he took?)
“There’s a lot you still don’t know.”
"And I do want you to tell me someday,” Jess says. “I want to know your side, and I want to hear about the rest of your life. All of it. But right now I want to sit in the sand with you and watch the sunset." She slides off the log and settles between his knees, leaning against him as her toes dig into the warm sand. The sun sinks lower in the sky, as if on her command.
Out in the glistening surf, Jess’s parents are in their 20s. Her father lifts her mother with young, strong arms and tosses her into the water. She shrieks with laughter and reaches out to grab his leg, pulling him in with her.
Jess shivers and Sam drapes his jacket around her. If she were wearing rolled-up jeans and a t-shirt instead of board shorts and a bikini top, if there were a bonfire a few feet away, if Luis and his girlfriend (what was her name… Brittany? Bethany?) were sitting next to them, passing a bottle of too-sweet strawberry wine back and forth, he would be sure this was a memory. But they never did this, never came to the beach by themselves. It’s just one small item on the long list of things they never did.
Suddenly there’s a slice of light cutting through the dusk as a door opens at the beach house. "Jessica! It's getting dark! Time to come inside!"
Jess springs into action at her mother’s voice. She pulls Sam’s jacket off her shoulders and plants a soft kiss on his lips. “Come back soon?” she says. She already looks younger. Before he can respond, she turns and runs toward the house. Sam watches her turn back into a teenager right as she slips inside, and then she’s gone. He can see her mother’s silhouette in the window, and he considers knocking on their door to apologize for plunging them into the agonizing pain of a parent who has lost a child. But no. The last thing they need is another intrusion into their lives by Sam Winchester.
Sam heads back up the path. It’s almost fully dark now, but a cloud of fireflies lights his way. If he wants a flashlight, he knows he could reach into his pocket and find one. But it’s nice walking in the dark.
When he gets back home, Dean is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Sam can tell from the way his brother looks at him that he still appears to be the 22-year-old who just said goodbye to his girlfriend. He waits a second to settle into the face he usually wears, the last face Dean saw before he died.
“You good?” Dean says. He looks anxious.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
"Um. Staying for dinner?"
Sam frowns. "Of course I'm staying for dinner. Why wouldn't I?"
Dean quickly replaces the anxious look with a smile. "Yeah. No reason. Just asking."
5. This is how Heaven works, according to Jack
The problem with being able to go anywhere is that sometimes Sam goes for a walk, loses himself in thought, and ends up walking into a memory. Which is why he finds himself in front of a bus station in downtown Indianapolis. He stops in his tracks and is about to head somewhere else, anywhere else, when he sees a familiar face, with a grin and an awkward little wave he hasn’t seen in a lifetime.
“Jack! Is it really you?” Sam greets him with a hug and Jack squeezes him tight and it’s just like it was back before… before everything.
“You look good, Jack.” And he does, but he also looks like something more than Jack.
“So do you, Sam. It’s good to see you,” Jack says solemnly. “And I’m sorry. I should have come to visit you sooner. I just wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
“Why?”
“I heard you. After Dean died.”
Oh. That. Yes, there had been begging, pleading, and then angry cursing.
“You understand why I couldn’t bring him back, don’t you?” Jack says.
It had taken a while. Sam had been lost in grief and despair for a long time, furious that Jack would abandon him when he needed him most. But eventually he understood. Bringing Dean back would have made Jack just another version of Chuck, directing their lives.
“Yes, I do,” he says. “I get it. But Jack, if you heard me then, you also must have heard me other times. There were good times too. And I never stopped talking to you. Praying to you.”
Jack smiles. “I know. And I was glad to hear it. It’s just that the most emotional prayers are the loudest.”
They sit together on a worn wooden bench. Sam has questions, so many questions, but he doesn’t know where to start. Finally he says “How is Cas? Dean said you pulled him out of the Empty.”
“I did. He's well. Right now he's helping me remodel Purgatory.”
“Really? How do you have control over Purgatory?”
Jack shrugs. “There was a power vacuum, and Rowena and I decided to share it.”
“Rowena! How is she?”
“She seems good. She had a message for you, actually.” Jack closes his eyes for a second and then says, in a perfect imitation of Rowena’s brogue, “And what’s the purpose of this tattoo on wee Dean’s arm? I’m disappointed, Samuel. Did you truly believe I’d let any of my demons harm a single hair on your boy’s precious little head?”
Sam throws his head back and laughs, and Jack dissolves into giggles. Right here, right now, it’s so much like Sam and his kid. Not a nephilim, not a god, just a kid that Sam loved. Loves.
“Tell her it’s just a family tradition, and she shouldn’t take it personally. And tell her… tell her I hope she’s happy.”
“I will. I think she misses you. She used to keep an eye on you, you know. Before you came here.” Sam considers being under the watchful eye of the Queen of Hell and has to admit he doesn’t hate it. And the thought of her watching his son as well is oddly comforting.
“So, you two are remodeling Purgatory? What does that mean?”
“We’re adding civilization. Settlements. Little towns, actually. Residents who don’t want to run wild don’t have to. They can just exist peacefully, with families and homes. And since they don’t need to eat, there’s no need to kill. Of course, some residents still want that wild life, and they stay out in the wilderness. But they have a choice now. Most of the ones who pick towns are the ones who were born human.”
“Like Garth?”
“Yes; your friend Garth and his family will be able to spend the afterlife living as they do now. Peacefully, among family and friends.”
“That’s… that’s amazing, Jack.” Not just Garth, but Benny and Madison and Amy and every creature turned against their will, or born into a life that forced them to hunt humans.
Jack smiles. “I’m glad you like it. Castiel thought you would. He said you were always conscious of the fact that not all monsters are monstrous.” He turns to view the bus station as if noticing it for the first time. “Why are you here, Sam? What is this place to you?"
That’s a question with a complicated answer. It’s the beginning of one life and the end of another. Or at least it seemed to be at the time.
“It’s a bus station. The one I hitchhiked to, the night I told Dad and Dean I was going to Stanford. This is where I was when I realized no one was coming after me. No one was going to drag me back into the life.”
Sam had sat there for hours, nursing a cup of coffee, toe-tapping with anxious energy but also exhausted and terrified he would fall asleep and miss his bus. Listening for a familiar rumble, the Impala or his dad’s voice. He was truly relieved they didn’t chase after him. He knew they could find him, could track him as easily as they’d track a monster; catch up with the bus and drag him back down. He was relieved it didn’t happen. But a small part of him kept playing little scenes where Dean said we can’t let him leave, Dad, we’ve gotta go after him, or Dad said come on, son, let’s go find your brother, we’re not gonna leave him alone out there. And he hated how much he wanted that. Even though he would have resisted them, would have done anything he could to escape their grasp, part of him still wanted them to try. Wanted them to fight for him. And they hadn’t.
“I don’t regret leaving,” Sam says. “I don’t regret what I did. But all I ever wanted was a choice. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done if they’d given me one. If Dad hadn’t tried so hard to keep me chained up, I wonder if I would have tried so hard to break free.”
Jack is still watching him. Thoughtfully, silently.
“Would you like to find out?”
“Little late for that,” Sam laughs.
“Not really. I can give you that chance. Or something like it, to be exact. This is something I don’t offer everyone, but I can give you the opportunity to relive your life. You can live a life where your mother doesn’t die, or where your father doesn’t force you to hunt. You can go to Stanford, become a lawyer, get married, live the life you would have lived.”
“What, you’d bring me back to life? Put me back on Earth? Send me back in time?”
“No, no. It wouldn’t be real. But it would feel real while you were living it. And then, when it was over, it would just feel like a beautiful dream. You’d be back where you are now, in Heaven, with Dean. And Dean wouldn’t even notice you were gone. I’d make the whole experience feel no longer than an afternoon for him. Like I did when he first got here, when he was waiting for you.”
“So you didn’t give him this option?”
“I did. He wasn’t interested. I did offer it to your parents, though, and they accepted. That’s the life they’re experiencing right now. They’re raising their two young boys.”
“But Dean and I visit them.”
“Yes, and when you’re there, the dream life feels just like that - a dream. When you and Dean leave, their adult children are the dream and their young children are their real lives.”
Well, that explains the odd feeling that John and Mary are like their younger selves. They’re actually living that life. And Sam is happy for them, that they get to have that experience after all, but it’s nothing he’s interested in.
“I don’t think I want to do that,” he says. “I appreciate the offer, but, you know. I’m done. I’m happy not knowing what might have happened. But Jessica. My old girlfriend. She was a victim as much as I was. Even more than I was, really. If you could give her that choice, if you could let her live out the life she was supposed to live, if she wants to - that would be amazing, Jack.”
Jack nods solemnly. “I will. And now I need to be going. I’ll see you soon, Sam.” Before Sam can hug him goodbye, he fades into a patch of warm, shimmering light.
“Thank you, Jack.” Sam is speaking to empty air, but he’s pretty sure Jack will hear.
6: This is how Heaven works, according to Sam
When Sam reaches the house, there are two new Adirondack chairs on the porch. Dean is already sitting in one, and Sam settles into the other one. Dean reaches between them and pulls a beer out of a bucket of ice, nudging it at Sam.
As he reaches for the beer, Sam runs his hand over the smooth, sanded wood of the chair. It’s beautifully constructed, and just the right size, with the back firmly supporting his entire torso and the seat long enough for his legs. As if it were custom-made for him.
“You did this?” he asks.
Dean pats the arm of his own chair proudly. “You want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”
Which probably isn’t true in Heaven, but Sam’s not going to argue with him. “They’re really nice. Looks like you put a lot of time into it.”
“Well, you were gone for a while. I needed something to do.”
“Shit, Dean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just lost track of time…”
“It’s cool,” Dean says. “I know you’re not gonna be happy hanging out here with me all the damn time. I know there’s other things out there for you…” He trails off unhappily.
Dean got the same offer Sam did. Why didn’t he bring it up?
“So. I saw Jack.”
“Yeah?” Dean’s reaction is almost imperceptible. A quick downward glance, a disappointed twist to his mouth. “I wondered what was taking him so long. I guess he made you the offer. When are you leaving?”
“Leaving?”
“You know. Life 2.0. The do-over” He drains his beer and gives Sam a bitter fake smile. “I figured this was coming.”
“Dean. I’m not doing it. I said no.”
Dean’s stares at him in confusion. “You mean all this time I’ve been waiting for you to go all Sliding Doors, and you just… said no? Why?”
Sam shrugs. “Same reason you didn’t, I imagine. I just didn’t need it. I mean, sure, I’m curious. I wonder how everything would have gone if it hadn’t been for, you know. Everything. But I don’t need to actually find out. I lived my life. It was a good life. And now it’s done, and I’m ready for what we have now.”
“This. You’re ready for this, forever.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but I had the life I expected. Go out on a hunt. Die young, stay pretty. But you? You always wanted something more. Something different.”
“Not always.” Sam remembers their years in the bunker after Jack, after everything, and the unfamiliar sweetness of simply being satisfied with his life. “And I ended up getting a lot of that anyway. I’m happy, man.”
“With this.” Dean gestures at their porch, their Adirondack chairs, the pines and blooming dogwood trees, the Canada geese gliding low to land in the pond behind their house. “You’re happy with this.”
“Yeah. With us. I mean, I’m not gonna sit on this porch for eternity. I’m going to go explore. I want to spend some time with Jess, see some old friends. And I want to explore more with you too,” he adds quickly.
But Dean’s not sad or angry, not glaring at him, not looking away to try to hide his wounds. He’s just running his hand over the wood of his chair. “Dude,” he laughs. “It’s fine. I know you’re gonna go off on your own sometimes. You got people to see. And at some point your kid’s gonna be here and I know you’ll want to go spend time together. It’s fine. Really.”
It is.
”This is home,” Sam says. “You know I’m always going to come back, don’t you? You know that no matter where I go, no matter how long I’m gone, I’ll always be back. You get that now, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Dean smiles. It’s warm and open and not hiding anything at all. “Yeah, Sam, I get it.”
This is how Heaven works.
7: Epilogue/Prologue
Dean watches the Roadhouse disappear in the rear view mirror. He’ll come back to it soon enough, but right now he just wants to drive. Drive and relax and enjoy the music and relish a body with no aches and pains, no stiff joints, no need to squint at things that are a little too close.
He feels a presence in the passenger seat, but he knows before he looks that it’s not going to be Sam.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Hello, Dean. Welcome to Heaven.”
Jack looks the same. Like he’s not… not freaking God. It’s easy to pretend he’s still that weird youngster who hung around the bunker for a while. Kind of unfair that Sam doesn’t get to be here and see him too, but. There’s time. There’s plenty of time.
“Nice job up here, kid,” Dean says. “Bobby says no one’s stuck in little cells reliving old memories any more.”
“They’re not, unless that’s what they want. And some of them do.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. ”
“So you don’t have old memories you’d like to relive?”
Dean laughs. “Sure, I guess. But not a lot. Wouldn’t take too long to relive my greatest hits.” There are a few memories that would be worth a rerun. Killing the yellow-eyed demon. Killing Hitler. That dinner in the bunker with Mom and Dad and Sam. The time he and Sam went LARPing with Charlie. Teaching Sam how to shoot. Sitting on the hood of the Impala with Sam, drinking beer and watching a meteorite shower. The time he and Sam burned down a field on the 4th of July. The day Mom and Dad brought baby Sammy home. The truth is, most of his good memories include Sam. Even revolve around Sam. And dammit, Dean misses him already, fiercely. But if there’s any justice in Heaven or on Earth, Sam is in the middle of living a long, happy life. And Dean’s not gonna wish that short, just to get Sam back to him. He’s not.
Jack has been watching him quietly for a while, but now he reaches over to turn down the radio.
“I want to offer you something, Dean. I don’t make this offer to everyone. I haven’t really made it to anyone, except those who were manipulated by Heaven, which includes all of your family. Those good memories you didn’t get to make? I can let you have them. I can let you live the life you would have lived, if God and the angels hadn’t interceded. You’d get to grow up in a loving family with your parents, finish school, get a job. Fall in love, have a family of your own.”
It feels like something he should want, but it also feels wrong.
“They wouldn’t be my real parents. They’d be like memories, right?”
“They would feel like your real parents. But yes, a creation based on your memories.”
“And no Sam.”
“Sam would be there. Not the real Sam, but he would feel real. It would all feel real while it was happening. And when it was over, it would just seem like a beautiful dream. You would know you were in Heaven, and the real Sam would be there.”
Dean’s already had a glimpse of that life. The one where his mom lived, and he had a real job and a girlfriend, and Sam went to law school. There were a lot of good things about that life, but there were bad things too. And most importantly, it was someone else’s life. Not his.
He shakes his head. “I appreciate the offer, kiddo, I do. But I’m gonna pass. I don’t want a fake life. Even if it feels real, that just ain’t Heaven to me. I’d rather hang out here, enjoy what I’ve got, and wait for my Sam to show up.”
“It might be a long time.”
Dean grins. “I sure hope so. I’ll be disappointed if it isn’t.”
~~~
The title is from "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin
Anyway. This is a fic I was noodling around with for a while, and then the Now It's Perfect event happened (check it out!) and it gave me the impetus to finish it. And bonus - amberdreams created some fantastic art to go with!
~~~
Genre: Gen/gencest but Wincest-compliant, reference to Sam/Jessica
Length: About 7000 words
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore, Jack Kline
Synopsis: This is Sam, learning how Heaven works
1: This is Heaven
They’re standing on a bridge and it’s real, everything is real, not little boxes of memories but his real brother, and it’s all a little too much for Sam to take in. He can’t keep looking at Dean. It’s like staring into the sun. He looks away, looks at trees and sky instead, and the Impala, Christ, even the Impala is here. But of course she is. It wouldn’t be Dean’s Heaven without her.
When he turns back, Dean is still smiling, practically radiating joy, but then his eyes narrow and his smile falters.
“What?” Sam asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just… I thought you’d last longer than this.”
“Longer than what?”
“Come on, man. I’ve been here for, like, an afternoon. Did you even have time to torch my corpse?”
“What? An afternoon? Dean, you’ve been gone…” So long. Sam can’t even say it, can’t think of the years, the decades that have passed since he last saw his brother. He clears his throat. “A long time, man. You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Couldn’t have been that long,” Dean says. “Look at you. It hasn’t even been a year, has it?”
Sam looks down at his steady hands, free of wrinkles and age spots. “Oh.”
“Seriously. How much time did you have, after me? What took you out?” Dean suddenly looks stricken. “You didn’t… I mean, I knew you’d be messed up, but I didn’t think…”
It takes Sam a moment to catch on. “No! No. I mean, there were times I wanted to, but no. I kept going. I stopped hunting, and I just…” He laughs. “Jesus, Dean, I don’t know why I look young. I got old. I got married and I had a kid and I got old.”
Dean’s face is alight with joy again. “You’ve got a wife? And a kid?”
“Well, the wife, ah, that wasn’t, that didn’t last very long. But the kid. He’s amazing. Not a kid any more, though. All grown up, and smart, and funny, and kind…”
But it’s so wrong. Dean died and Sam lived, lived an entire life without his brother’s physical presence in it, and it’s wrong to take pleasure in his life, in the child that he never would have had if his brother hadn’t died. And Dean needs to understand. He needs to know how much he still mattered.
“I didn’t just run off and start enjoying life, you know. It took a long time. But I finally realized that it wasn’t fair to you, and to everyone we lost, to waste the life I had. I had to go out and start living it.”
Dean puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Stop it, Sam. Stop apologizing for living. I hoped that’s what you would do. You think you should have spent the rest of your life moping around, mourning me? You think that’s what I wanted? That ain’t the life I would have picked out for you.” He grins. “Now get in the car and tell me about this kid of yours. Smart and funny? Takes after his dad and his Uncle Dean.”
They drive. It’s almost overwhelming after so many years. The old car, his old (young) body, the sight and sound of his brother in the driver’s seat… these should all be unfamiliar, but they’re immediately comfortable. This is where he should be.
As he drives, Dean explains that Jack fixed Heaven for everyone. It’s not tiny cells full of memories any more, and Sam finds that almost too much to think about right now. Sam tells Dean about DJ - Dean Jonathan, because his other grandfather’s name was John too, and how weird is that - and about his marriage.
“It started as, well, I guess you’d call it friends with benefits. When we found out she was pregnant we got married so she could be on my health insurance.”
“Because you were the one with a real job and health insurance?” Dean says, slightly incredulous.
“Yeah, I know. Who would have thought?” Sam laughs. “I thought we might actually make it, at first. We might be that rom-com couple who gets fake married and then falls in love. And then one day she said I know you love me as much as you can, and I was willing to accept that until I saw how much you loved our son, and I realized I deserve that too, and I’m afraid I’ll resent you if I don’t go after it.”
“Damn.”
Sam glances down at his ring finger, now bare. He’d kept wearing his ring after the divorce, partly because it helped keep women away and partly because it reminded him of his son, reminded him that he had someone he needed to stay alive for. It was a reminder he still needed, occasionally, in the years after Dean’s death. “No, no, she was right. I didn’t… I couldn’t… anyway. It wasn’t her, it was me. She was loveable. I just didn’t have it in me any more, I guess. She deserved better.”
“Deserved better,” Dean huffs skeptically. “She find it?”
“I think so. I hope so. She did get married again. He was a good guy, a good stepfather. He died a few years before I did.” And that’s weird, too, thinking about his own death in the past tense. It shouldn’t be so unfamiliar. After Cold Oak he’d often thought about his life in terms of before I died and after I died. Then it was before the cage and after the cage, until all of that was eclipsed by before Dean died and after Dean died.
Sam shakes his head. This is a train of thought he doesn’t need to follow. Dean is sitting next to him, smiling in the warm sunlight, and that’s what matters.
“A good guy?” Dean says. “Maybe we’ll go visit him someday.”
If that’s possible, it confirms that everything Sam thought he knew about Heaven, the individual Heavens Ash told them about, was wrong.
“You can really do that? Anyone can go to anyone’s Heaven? How does that even work?”
Dean grins. “I haven’t really figured it out yet. All I know is, everything’s different now. I’m gonna take you to Bobby Singer himself and let him explain it.”
2: This is how Heaven works, according to Bobby
"You think about someone you want to see," Bobby says, "and you just start moving. Walk, drive, swim, whatever. And before too long, you find 'em."
"Anyone?" says Dean. "You mean, I could think about Miss October and just start driving and end up at her house?"
"Hell if I know. I didn't go looking for anyone." Bobby turns to smile at Karen. "I found who I wanted to find and then I stopped." He found Karen, all right. Waiting for him in the clean and cozy version of their old house. There are no dusty books on demons and monsters, no sigils carved into the lintels or devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. It’s like a funhouse mirror version of Bobby’s place, familiar but not.
"Okay, but does it have to be a person?” Dean asks. “What about a place? Like, remember that diner in Tucumcari, Sam? With the pie?"
"Why are you just now learning how this works?" Sam asks. "It's been forty years. I can't believe you've been here forty years and you haven't seen Mom and Dad yet."
Dean rolls his eyes, exasperated. "I told you, I got here, I went for a drive, and then you showed up. It was like, a few hours, tops. Honestly, you were here so fast, I was afraid the goddamn vampires got you right after they got me."
Sam looks to Bobby, who shrugs. "Felt like longer to me, but time's weird up here."
~ ~ ~
They visit Mom and Dad, who are young, and then aren't. Even when their parents look like their older selves, they seem lighter somehow, like they're just setting out and haven't lived through years of separation and trauma.
When they get back in the Impala, Sam says "That was weird."
"But good," Dean says.
"Yes, good. But weird. They were more like when they first got married. You know, when we went back in time and tried to convince Mom not to have us. They were like that John and Mary."
"Holy crap," Dean laughs, "our lives are weird.”
“Our lives were weird,” Sam says. “We don't really have lives any more, do we? What do we call this? The afterlife?"
Dean shrugs. "Whatever we wanna call it, I guess. Anyway, I think it's time to find that diner in Tucumcari now."
"How can you even remember a specific diner?"
"Oh, you'd remember a diner if they had the best salad you'd ever had, or the best organic goat cheese, or whatever."
Maybe. Maybe not. Sam's got more memories to sift through than Dean does. An extra forty years' worth.
(An extra forty years on earth plus a millennia in Hell. They don't really talk about that part. Dean asks, once, do you still remember... everything? Sam says I do, but it doesn't bother me; it's almost like it happened to someone else, or I saw it in a movie. Dean nods and says yeah, me too. They don't talk about it again. But all of Sam's bad memories - not just lifetimes of torture in Hell, but topside too, everyone he loved dying and dying and dying - they're all still there. They just don't hurt any more.)
They explore. They find the diner in Tucumcari, and pie served by a strawberry blonde waitress in her fifties. Dean flirts with her relentlessly. It’s not until they’re finishing their pie that Sam realizes half the people in the diner are good looking men, and they’re all flirting with the waitress. Is she a memory or a prop in their Heaven? Or are they part of hers?
But Dean was right, the pie is amazing. Sam points that probably all the pie in Heaven is amazing. Dean takes this as a challenge and insists they search for more memorable pies. So far, the only complaint he has about Heaven is that this version of Karen Singer isn't a pie-baking machine like zombie Karen was.
They find more memorable pies, and burgers, and the coldest beer in the lower 48 states. They find lost friends too. Sometimes they go together. Sometimes they go separately. Sam's careful to only look for people who would likely want to see him again. He wonders if Lisa is here, and if Cas's memory wipe still works in Heaven. He doesn't ask, and Dean doesn't offer. And Dean doesn't ask who Sam's looking for when he wanders off on his own, but always seems a little relieved when he comes back. They don't talk about it.
3: This is how Heaven works, according to Dean
Okay, so once, Dean does talk about it.
They visit the Grand Canyon. It takes a few days to get there - whatever “days” are in Heaven - but Dean insists on driving for hours, even though it’s not necessary. “The journey is as important as the destination,” he says. And there’s always a good song on the radio, a shady spot to pull off the road when they need a nap, a cold beer in the cooler, and a taco truck parked at a scenic turnoff when they get hungry. So. It’s good.
The sun is just beginning to set when they finally reach the canyon. They sit on the hood of the Impala and quietly watch the sky fade from brilliant orange to deep purple. As always, the beer stays cold and there are fireflies but no mosquitos.
Dean is the one who eventually breaks the silence.
“You know, I did try to visit Miss October.”
Sam knows exactly who he’s talking about. They’d found the magazine in their crappy trailer when Dean was 13 or 14. Miss October had smooth tan skin, dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and those soft brown eyes like Cassie and Lisa and oh, wait. Was Miss October a favorite because Dean already had a type? Or was Miss October the reason Dean had a type? That’s an interesting question, but Sam decides not to pursue it right now. He’s got plenty of time.
“Try?” he asks. “Meaning it didn’t work?”
“Kind of, but not really. I mean, I ended up in that trailer, you know, where we were living when I found that magazine. So I got into the memory, but I didn’t ever make it to her personally. It could be that I just didn’t remember her right, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“It does seem unlikely,” Sam laughs. “You spent a lot of time with her, as I recall.”
“Shut up.” Dean shifts uncomfortably. “What I’m thinking is, it shows you can’t just visit anybody. It has to be someone you know, and someone who’s willing to see you. Which is good, because it would mean not everybody could just pop in and see us. It’s like Jack’s new system keeps them away if we wouldn’t put out the welcome mat for them.”
That’s actually a relief. “I guess that explains why Grandpa Campbell hasn’t come to see us,” Sam says.
Dean laughs. “Oh, Jesus. That would be awkward. Or Roy and Walt. I can’t believe we forgave those assholes. Or shit, what about Nick?”
“Nick? You think that guy’s in Heaven?”
“With any luck, we’ll never know. Oh, hey, what about your first wife, Becky?”
“Dude. Becky was not nearly as bad as Samuel or Roy or Walt.”
“But do you want to see her?”
“Absolutely not.”
They’re quiet for a while. Sam tries not to make a list of the people who wouldn’t welcome him into their Heaven. Or the people he wouldn’t invite into his.
Again, Dean is the one who speaks. "You seen her yet?" he asks. He keeps his gaze focused on the stars above them and not on Sam.
"Her who?"
"You know who."
Yes, Sam knows. And yes, he's thought about it, thought about walking into Jessica's Heaven, thought about how she'd react. Would she gasp in horror? Would she look at him, cold and distant, say my version of Heaven doesn't include Sam Winchester, and turn away?
"I don't know if she'd want to see me."
"Of course she'd want to see you."
"Even though I killed her?"
Now Dean turns to look at him. "The fuck? You didn’t kill her."
"She died because of me. She was murdered because I loved her."
"But that doesn't mean -"
"It does, Dean. It means exactly that. She was 22 years old and she should have had her entire life ahead of her and she died because of me."
Dean turns back to the stars and finishes his beer before speaking again.
"You know, when Cas broke your wall, the one keeping Hell out of your head… you remember why he did that? Because he wanted to distract me. We were trying to stop him from opening Purgatory, and he wanted to keep me occupied. Do you blame me for that?"
"No, of course not."
"Well, it's the same thing."
"It's not."
"It is, man. Look. You and I are responsible for a lot of fucked-up things -"
Sam laughs. "If that isn't the most Winchester pep talk ever."
"Shut up. You know what I mean. Yes, some bad things happened because of shit we did. But Jessica's death is not one of them. That's on demons, and - and fucking Chuck. Not you." It's the first time either of them has said Chuck's name in Heaven. Dean says it like he's spitting something foul out of his mouth.
"But what if she doesn't think so? What if I go find her and she blames me anyway?"
Dean shrugs up at the stars. "If I’m right, you can’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you would have a chance to tell her you're sorry."
4: This is how Heaven works, according to Jessica
Sam doesn't do it that day, or the next. But eventually he stands on the porch of the house he shares with Dean, watching a cloud of butterflies dance in the midday sun, and something deep inside says it's time. He holds her in his mind, blonde curls and blue eyes, brilliant smile and infectious laugh, smart and feisty and passionate, and he starts walking.
He might never make it to her. He might simply walk into a memory instead; Heaven’s way of letting him know he’s not on the VIP list.
The wooded path behind their little house usually goes up into the mountains, but now it starts to slope downhill after he's walked for a few minutes. After a few more minutes the trees thin out and Sam emerges onto a wide expanse of beach. He recognizes the lone structure on the shore almost immediately - it's the beach house Jess's parents used to rent every summer. He stayed with them there for a week once. It would be their last summer together, although neither of them knew it at the time. The actual house was one of a string of beachfront homes, but this version of it sits alone on hundreds of yards of sun-warmed sand. He can see a family playing in the surf just a few yards past the house. A man, a woman, and a slender teenage girl. When Sam steps out of the trees the girl looks up, sweeps her wet hair out of her eyes, and runs toward him.
She's so young. Twelve or thirteen, maybe, with shorter hair and more freckles. As she gets closer her hair grows longer, her face matures, and she gets taller. By the time she reaches him she is the same tall, golden girl he barely kissed goodbye in Palo Alto.
"Hey, Sam."
Sam's throat is too dry to speak. He stands there blinking at her until she finally says "come here, you." Then he closes the few steps between them and wraps her in his arms. She puts her arms around him, settles her cheek into his shoulder, and sighs.
They stand that way for a long time, but eventually Sam pulls back. Jessica clasps his hands as if she needs to stop him from leaving. “No,” he says. “I just want to get a look at you. You’re so beautiful.” She smiles at him, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight, and pulls him in for a kiss.
There’s a fallen log on the beach that’s just the right size (of course it is… at some point Sam will get used to everything in Heaven being just right) and they sit on it, still holding hands. A strand of hair drifts into Jessica’s face, and Sam reaches out to tuck it behind her ear. She smiles up at him the way she always did, like she’s been sealed in amber, unchanged for decades. But no, she was different when he first saw her playing in the water.
“You looked so young when I first got here,” he says. “Like a teenager.”
Jess shrugs and gazes out at her parents still splashing just off the shore. They look young, too. Too young to be the parents of a college student. Young enough to be the parents of a beautiful, free-spirited teenager who hasn’t yet left home to meet the man who will cause her death.
"I think in Heaven, you're the age you need to be. Or the age you want to be, I guess, depending on the circumstances. I mean, when I’m here with my parents, I'm almost always thirteen years old. That was a really good time for me and my family. But sometimes I'm younger. And then sometimes I visit friends, or places I knew in college, and I'm older. You're the same way, even if you don't feel it happening. Right now you look exactly like you did the last time I saw you." She reaches up to touch his face. "But when you first got here, you looked older. Maybe in your thirties? Is that how old you were when…?"
"When I died? No." But it's halfway true. Part of him died, and part of him had to carry on. Sam runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the bangs that cover his forehead the way they haven’t in decades. The scar on his palm (stone number one, make me your stone number one) is missing. "I actually… dammit, Jess. I lived a long time. I had a child. I got old. I had everything you should have had. I'd trade it all if I could. I'd give you that life instead of me, if there was a way. I'm so sorry."
She puts a gentle hand on his arm. "It's not your fault, Sam."
"Yes it is. You don't understand, you don't know what happened."
"I do, actually. Well. Some of it. Brady's been here."
Oh, fuck, Brady. Sam hasn’t really allowed himself to think about Brady the person. His fury at the demon who possessed Brady, who used his body to kill Jessica, completely blinded him to the trauma his friend endured. Was he alive when the demon he was housing set Jess alight? When Sam shoved the demon knife between his ribs? Did he feel it? Did he know?
"What did he tell you?"
"He didn't know everything, but you know he wasn't really himself at the end, right?"
"So he told you about…?"
"About demons.”
"Oh, God, Jess. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I never would have ever spoken the first word to you if I'd known I was putting you in harm's way. I went to Stanford because I wanted to leave all of that evil behind, and it followed me there and I led it right to you. None of this was supposed to happen to you."
"Don’t blame yourself, Sam. It’s not your fault."
But she has no idea just how much her death was Sam’s fault. And he owes her the truth.
(What if he had gone to a different school? Would she have gone to Stanford and lived out her life? Would her Heaven include a husband? Would children and grandchildren meet her there one day? And if Jessica had been spared, who would have taken her place in the story? Wouldn’t Chuck have placed some poor innocent girl in Sam’s path no matter which direction he took?)
“There’s a lot you still don’t know.”
"And I do want you to tell me someday,” Jess says. “I want to know your side, and I want to hear about the rest of your life. All of it. But right now I want to sit in the sand with you and watch the sunset." She slides off the log and settles between his knees, leaning against him as her toes dig into the warm sand. The sun sinks lower in the sky, as if on her command.
Out in the glistening surf, Jess’s parents are in their 20s. Her father lifts her mother with young, strong arms and tosses her into the water. She shrieks with laughter and reaches out to grab his leg, pulling him in with her.
Jess shivers and Sam drapes his jacket around her. If she were wearing rolled-up jeans and a t-shirt instead of board shorts and a bikini top, if there were a bonfire a few feet away, if Luis and his girlfriend (what was her name… Brittany? Bethany?) were sitting next to them, passing a bottle of too-sweet strawberry wine back and forth, he would be sure this was a memory. But they never did this, never came to the beach by themselves. It’s just one small item on the long list of things they never did.
Suddenly there’s a slice of light cutting through the dusk as a door opens at the beach house. "Jessica! It's getting dark! Time to come inside!"
Jess springs into action at her mother’s voice. She pulls Sam’s jacket off her shoulders and plants a soft kiss on his lips. “Come back soon?” she says. She already looks younger. Before he can respond, she turns and runs toward the house. Sam watches her turn back into a teenager right as she slips inside, and then she’s gone. He can see her mother’s silhouette in the window, and he considers knocking on their door to apologize for plunging them into the agonizing pain of a parent who has lost a child. But no. The last thing they need is another intrusion into their lives by Sam Winchester.
Sam heads back up the path. It’s almost fully dark now, but a cloud of fireflies lights his way. If he wants a flashlight, he knows he could reach into his pocket and find one. But it’s nice walking in the dark.
When he gets back home, Dean is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Sam can tell from the way his brother looks at him that he still appears to be the 22-year-old who just said goodbye to his girlfriend. He waits a second to settle into the face he usually wears, the last face Dean saw before he died.
“You good?” Dean says. He looks anxious.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
"Um. Staying for dinner?"
Sam frowns. "Of course I'm staying for dinner. Why wouldn't I?"
Dean quickly replaces the anxious look with a smile. "Yeah. No reason. Just asking."
5. This is how Heaven works, according to Jack
The problem with being able to go anywhere is that sometimes Sam goes for a walk, loses himself in thought, and ends up walking into a memory. Which is why he finds himself in front of a bus station in downtown Indianapolis. He stops in his tracks and is about to head somewhere else, anywhere else, when he sees a familiar face, with a grin and an awkward little wave he hasn’t seen in a lifetime.
“Jack! Is it really you?” Sam greets him with a hug and Jack squeezes him tight and it’s just like it was back before… before everything.
“You look good, Jack.” And he does, but he also looks like something more than Jack.
“So do you, Sam. It’s good to see you,” Jack says solemnly. “And I’m sorry. I should have come to visit you sooner. I just wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
“Why?”
“I heard you. After Dean died.”
Oh. That. Yes, there had been begging, pleading, and then angry cursing.
“You understand why I couldn’t bring him back, don’t you?” Jack says.
It had taken a while. Sam had been lost in grief and despair for a long time, furious that Jack would abandon him when he needed him most. But eventually he understood. Bringing Dean back would have made Jack just another version of Chuck, directing their lives.
“Yes, I do,” he says. “I get it. But Jack, if you heard me then, you also must have heard me other times. There were good times too. And I never stopped talking to you. Praying to you.”
Jack smiles. “I know. And I was glad to hear it. It’s just that the most emotional prayers are the loudest.”
They sit together on a worn wooden bench. Sam has questions, so many questions, but he doesn’t know where to start. Finally he says “How is Cas? Dean said you pulled him out of the Empty.”
“I did. He's well. Right now he's helping me remodel Purgatory.”
“Really? How do you have control over Purgatory?”
Jack shrugs. “There was a power vacuum, and Rowena and I decided to share it.”
“Rowena! How is she?”
“She seems good. She had a message for you, actually.” Jack closes his eyes for a second and then says, in a perfect imitation of Rowena’s brogue, “And what’s the purpose of this tattoo on wee Dean’s arm? I’m disappointed, Samuel. Did you truly believe I’d let any of my demons harm a single hair on your boy’s precious little head?”
Sam throws his head back and laughs, and Jack dissolves into giggles. Right here, right now, it’s so much like Sam and his kid. Not a nephilim, not a god, just a kid that Sam loved. Loves.
“Tell her it’s just a family tradition, and she shouldn’t take it personally. And tell her… tell her I hope she’s happy.”
“I will. I think she misses you. She used to keep an eye on you, you know. Before you came here.” Sam considers being under the watchful eye of the Queen of Hell and has to admit he doesn’t hate it. And the thought of her watching his son as well is oddly comforting.
“So, you two are remodeling Purgatory? What does that mean?”
“We’re adding civilization. Settlements. Little towns, actually. Residents who don’t want to run wild don’t have to. They can just exist peacefully, with families and homes. And since they don’t need to eat, there’s no need to kill. Of course, some residents still want that wild life, and they stay out in the wilderness. But they have a choice now. Most of the ones who pick towns are the ones who were born human.”
“Like Garth?”
“Yes; your friend Garth and his family will be able to spend the afterlife living as they do now. Peacefully, among family and friends.”
“That’s… that’s amazing, Jack.” Not just Garth, but Benny and Madison and Amy and every creature turned against their will, or born into a life that forced them to hunt humans.
Jack smiles. “I’m glad you like it. Castiel thought you would. He said you were always conscious of the fact that not all monsters are monstrous.” He turns to view the bus station as if noticing it for the first time. “Why are you here, Sam? What is this place to you?"
That’s a question with a complicated answer. It’s the beginning of one life and the end of another. Or at least it seemed to be at the time.
“It’s a bus station. The one I hitchhiked to, the night I told Dad and Dean I was going to Stanford. This is where I was when I realized no one was coming after me. No one was going to drag me back into the life.”
Sam had sat there for hours, nursing a cup of coffee, toe-tapping with anxious energy but also exhausted and terrified he would fall asleep and miss his bus. Listening for a familiar rumble, the Impala or his dad’s voice. He was truly relieved they didn’t chase after him. He knew they could find him, could track him as easily as they’d track a monster; catch up with the bus and drag him back down. He was relieved it didn’t happen. But a small part of him kept playing little scenes where Dean said we can’t let him leave, Dad, we’ve gotta go after him, or Dad said come on, son, let’s go find your brother, we’re not gonna leave him alone out there. And he hated how much he wanted that. Even though he would have resisted them, would have done anything he could to escape their grasp, part of him still wanted them to try. Wanted them to fight for him. And they hadn’t.
“I don’t regret leaving,” Sam says. “I don’t regret what I did. But all I ever wanted was a choice. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done if they’d given me one. If Dad hadn’t tried so hard to keep me chained up, I wonder if I would have tried so hard to break free.”
Jack is still watching him. Thoughtfully, silently.
“Would you like to find out?”
“Little late for that,” Sam laughs.
“Not really. I can give you that chance. Or something like it, to be exact. This is something I don’t offer everyone, but I can give you the opportunity to relive your life. You can live a life where your mother doesn’t die, or where your father doesn’t force you to hunt. You can go to Stanford, become a lawyer, get married, live the life you would have lived.”
“What, you’d bring me back to life? Put me back on Earth? Send me back in time?”
“No, no. It wouldn’t be real. But it would feel real while you were living it. And then, when it was over, it would just feel like a beautiful dream. You’d be back where you are now, in Heaven, with Dean. And Dean wouldn’t even notice you were gone. I’d make the whole experience feel no longer than an afternoon for him. Like I did when he first got here, when he was waiting for you.”
“So you didn’t give him this option?”
“I did. He wasn’t interested. I did offer it to your parents, though, and they accepted. That’s the life they’re experiencing right now. They’re raising their two young boys.”
“But Dean and I visit them.”
“Yes, and when you’re there, the dream life feels just like that - a dream. When you and Dean leave, their adult children are the dream and their young children are their real lives.”
Well, that explains the odd feeling that John and Mary are like their younger selves. They’re actually living that life. And Sam is happy for them, that they get to have that experience after all, but it’s nothing he’s interested in.
“I don’t think I want to do that,” he says. “I appreciate the offer, but, you know. I’m done. I’m happy not knowing what might have happened. But Jessica. My old girlfriend. She was a victim as much as I was. Even more than I was, really. If you could give her that choice, if you could let her live out the life she was supposed to live, if she wants to - that would be amazing, Jack.”
Jack nods solemnly. “I will. And now I need to be going. I’ll see you soon, Sam.” Before Sam can hug him goodbye, he fades into a patch of warm, shimmering light.
“Thank you, Jack.” Sam is speaking to empty air, but he’s pretty sure Jack will hear.
6: This is how Heaven works, according to Sam
When Sam reaches the house, there are two new Adirondack chairs on the porch. Dean is already sitting in one, and Sam settles into the other one. Dean reaches between them and pulls a beer out of a bucket of ice, nudging it at Sam.
As he reaches for the beer, Sam runs his hand over the smooth, sanded wood of the chair. It’s beautifully constructed, and just the right size, with the back firmly supporting his entire torso and the seat long enough for his legs. As if it were custom-made for him.
“You did this?” he asks.
Dean pats the arm of his own chair proudly. “You want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”
Which probably isn’t true in Heaven, but Sam’s not going to argue with him. “They’re really nice. Looks like you put a lot of time into it.”
“Well, you were gone for a while. I needed something to do.”
“Shit, Dean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just lost track of time…”
“It’s cool,” Dean says. “I know you’re not gonna be happy hanging out here with me all the damn time. I know there’s other things out there for you…” He trails off unhappily.
Dean got the same offer Sam did. Why didn’t he bring it up?
“So. I saw Jack.”
“Yeah?” Dean’s reaction is almost imperceptible. A quick downward glance, a disappointed twist to his mouth. “I wondered what was taking him so long. I guess he made you the offer. When are you leaving?”
“Leaving?”
“You know. Life 2.0. The do-over” He drains his beer and gives Sam a bitter fake smile. “I figured this was coming.”
“Dean. I’m not doing it. I said no.”
Dean’s stares at him in confusion. “You mean all this time I’ve been waiting for you to go all Sliding Doors, and you just… said no? Why?”
Sam shrugs. “Same reason you didn’t, I imagine. I just didn’t need it. I mean, sure, I’m curious. I wonder how everything would have gone if it hadn’t been for, you know. Everything. But I don’t need to actually find out. I lived my life. It was a good life. And now it’s done, and I’m ready for what we have now.”
“This. You’re ready for this, forever.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but I had the life I expected. Go out on a hunt. Die young, stay pretty. But you? You always wanted something more. Something different.”
“Not always.” Sam remembers their years in the bunker after Jack, after everything, and the unfamiliar sweetness of simply being satisfied with his life. “And I ended up getting a lot of that anyway. I’m happy, man.”
“With this.” Dean gestures at their porch, their Adirondack chairs, the pines and blooming dogwood trees, the Canada geese gliding low to land in the pond behind their house. “You’re happy with this.”
“Yeah. With us. I mean, I’m not gonna sit on this porch for eternity. I’m going to go explore. I want to spend some time with Jess, see some old friends. And I want to explore more with you too,” he adds quickly.
But Dean’s not sad or angry, not glaring at him, not looking away to try to hide his wounds. He’s just running his hand over the wood of his chair. “Dude,” he laughs. “It’s fine. I know you’re gonna go off on your own sometimes. You got people to see. And at some point your kid’s gonna be here and I know you’ll want to go spend time together. It’s fine. Really.”
It is.
”This is home,” Sam says. “You know I’m always going to come back, don’t you? You know that no matter where I go, no matter how long I’m gone, I’ll always be back. You get that now, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Dean smiles. It’s warm and open and not hiding anything at all. “Yeah, Sam, I get it.”
This is how Heaven works.
7: Epilogue/Prologue
Dean watches the Roadhouse disappear in the rear view mirror. He’ll come back to it soon enough, but right now he just wants to drive. Drive and relax and enjoy the music and relish a body with no aches and pains, no stiff joints, no need to squint at things that are a little too close.
He feels a presence in the passenger seat, but he knows before he looks that it’s not going to be Sam.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Hello, Dean. Welcome to Heaven.”
Jack looks the same. Like he’s not… not freaking God. It’s easy to pretend he’s still that weird youngster who hung around the bunker for a while. Kind of unfair that Sam doesn’t get to be here and see him too, but. There’s time. There’s plenty of time.
“Nice job up here, kid,” Dean says. “Bobby says no one’s stuck in little cells reliving old memories any more.”
“They’re not, unless that’s what they want. And some of them do.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. ”
“So you don’t have old memories you’d like to relive?”
Dean laughs. “Sure, I guess. But not a lot. Wouldn’t take too long to relive my greatest hits.” There are a few memories that would be worth a rerun. Killing the yellow-eyed demon. Killing Hitler. That dinner in the bunker with Mom and Dad and Sam. The time he and Sam went LARPing with Charlie. Teaching Sam how to shoot. Sitting on the hood of the Impala with Sam, drinking beer and watching a meteorite shower. The time he and Sam burned down a field on the 4th of July. The day Mom and Dad brought baby Sammy home. The truth is, most of his good memories include Sam. Even revolve around Sam. And dammit, Dean misses him already, fiercely. But if there’s any justice in Heaven or on Earth, Sam is in the middle of living a long, happy life. And Dean’s not gonna wish that short, just to get Sam back to him. He’s not.
Jack has been watching him quietly for a while, but now he reaches over to turn down the radio.
“I want to offer you something, Dean. I don’t make this offer to everyone. I haven’t really made it to anyone, except those who were manipulated by Heaven, which includes all of your family. Those good memories you didn’t get to make? I can let you have them. I can let you live the life you would have lived, if God and the angels hadn’t interceded. You’d get to grow up in a loving family with your parents, finish school, get a job. Fall in love, have a family of your own.”
It feels like something he should want, but it also feels wrong.
“They wouldn’t be my real parents. They’d be like memories, right?”
“They would feel like your real parents. But yes, a creation based on your memories.”
“And no Sam.”
“Sam would be there. Not the real Sam, but he would feel real. It would all feel real while it was happening. And when it was over, it would just seem like a beautiful dream. You would know you were in Heaven, and the real Sam would be there.”
Dean’s already had a glimpse of that life. The one where his mom lived, and he had a real job and a girlfriend, and Sam went to law school. There were a lot of good things about that life, but there were bad things too. And most importantly, it was someone else’s life. Not his.
He shakes his head. “I appreciate the offer, kiddo, I do. But I’m gonna pass. I don’t want a fake life. Even if it feels real, that just ain’t Heaven to me. I’d rather hang out here, enjoy what I’ve got, and wait for my Sam to show up.”
“It might be a long time.”
Dean grins. “I sure hope so. I’ll be disappointed if it isn’t.”
~~~
The title is from "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin