Fic: Where Death Has Set His Seal (2/2)
Part I
Extract from Dean's letter to Sam, May 2, 2007
The problem is, Sammy, you're the one who makes me a good person. You're the one who makes me WANT to be a good person. Without you, I've got nothing. And I'm scared that when I finally die, even if I do get to go upstairs, even if we do still get to share a Heaven… You're going to be ashamed of me.
And I don't think I could take that.
No Lucifer.
Lucifer was still in the Cage. He would always be in the Cage.
No Cage.
Sam stared out the window at the perfect blue sky with just enough patches of cloud to relieve the monotony.
It felt so weird. He remembered everything that had happened, remembered going day after day after day until he lost count. Decades had gone by for him, and even though he knew that Dean was numbering the time in months, even though he knew it was ridiculous, he'd wondered if Dean had forgotten him.
He wondered that now.
Sam wanted his brother to move on, of course. He wanted Dean to be happy.
He just… Didn't want to turn into a footnote in Dean's life, the little brother who went off to college and then came back and hunted with him for a couple of years and got himself killed by turning his back on an armed enemy like an idiot.
Sam sighed, shrugged, and reached for a book. There wasn't any point worrying about it.
Today.
Today would have been the worst day of Dean's life.
Today would have been the day Sam jumped into the Devil's Cage, and Dean would spend the next eighteen months having nightmares of his brother being tortured.
Instead, the worst day of Dean's life had been three years ago, and he was probably going to spend the rest of his life having nightmares of Sam dying in his arms.
He'd called Ellen and Jo a few weeks ago and told them he couldn't see them anymore. He'd spoken to them occasionally, and they'd been a large part of how he'd survived since Sam died, but now they were just more people who were alive because Sam stupidly sacrificed himself, and there was a part of Dean that couldn't help hating them for that. He loved Ellen and Jo, they were good friends, but if it came to a choice between them and his baby brother…
Dean clutched at his amulet.
The metal was reassuring against his fingers, a reminder that Sam had been real, Sam had given him this, Sam had loved him and trusted him.
Sam had wanted him to live.
Something rustled in his jacket pocket when he moved to reach for a beer, and he knew even before he reached in that it was his letter.
Sam's letter to Dean, May 2, 2010
Big brother,
Sometimes I sit here and wonder if you ever think about me.
Don't get me wrong. I don't want you to mope, and I do want you to have a life. Get out of hunting, find a girl, have some kids… You deserve it, Dean, and the world's not ending. Not anymore. The ghosts and ghouls and monsters anybody can deal with.
But that's not really you, is it? I don't want you to do anything you don't want to because you think it'll make me happy. Just… Be happy, Dean. That's all I ever wanted.
I love you, Dean. I remember. I always will.
Sam
Extract from Dean's letter to Sam, May 2, 2007
Now I know you, so I know there's going to be a time when you're getting all emo and mopey worrying that I've forgotten all about you. And then feeling guilty for feeling emo because you want me to accept your death and move on.
I don't know how long it'll take, but I know you'll get there.
So I'm telling you now, because I don't know if I'll ever be able to get another letter to you - that is NEVER going to happen, Sammy. I promised Dad I'd protect you, I promised Mom I'd protect you, and if I didn't know you'd be upset if I killed myself, I'd be up there with you doing it now.
But you remember I'm coming to look after you and keep you safe. It may take fifty years - or maybe just five, who the hell knows with hunters? - but I'm coming. And I had damn well better find you in one piece when I do.
No demon blood addiction.
Sam couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up inside him at that. The demon blood was gone, and all the horrible stuff that had come with it, Ruby, Dean not trusting him, Lucifer… all that was gone too.
He'd died. He'd died on his twenty-fourth birthday, for the good of the world, and world neither knew nor cared. But Dean knew, and that was all that mattered.
The latest letter from Death was open on the table. Death couldn't enter Heaven - or maybe he just didn't like to - but he'd kept his word so far. There was always a letter delivered to his door, assuring him that Dean was alive and unhurt and another crisis had been averted.
Sam felt more at peace than he ever had in life.
"Huh," Dean muttered, seeing the envelope on the dashboard when he got into the Impala. "I forgot the date."
It was a lie he'd taken to telling himself. He could never forget the date. It was seared into his brain, the most perfect and most horrible of days. The day twenty-six years ago when his baby brother had been laid in his arms by a smiling nurse, and the day two years ago when -
Dean blinked back tears.
He remembered how angry he'd been with Sam when he'd freed Lucifer - no, that wasn't right. They'd both freed Lucifer, breaking the first and last of the sixty-six seals, but Sam had taken the blame and Dean had let him. Dean had made it worse. Dean had made Sam miserable.
Dean would break every last one of those goddamned seals himself, and say yes to Michael, if it would mean getting Sam back.
He'd actually tried to track down Adam. Tried to tell himself that he still had family, even if he didn't have Sammy. He'd gone as far as watching his house for a couple of days.
But the sight of Adam daring to be alive and happy when the most important person in the entire world was dead had made Dean so furious he'd had to clutch the steering wheel to keep himself from getting out of the car and punching Adam right in his smiling mouth.
Dean hadn't bothered to talk to him after all. What the hell did he matter? He wasn't Sam.
He opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
Sam's letter to Dean, May 2, 2009
Hi, Dean.
Death has Castiel on permanent letter-duty. Can you believe it? He doesn't remember me, of course - doesn't remember anything. It's weird. He keeps squinting at me like he thinks he should know me but can't figure it out.
You know, I think we made a mistake trying to take free will to the Angels. I've met them. They're not… well, they're not equipped for it. They don't care about things the way people do, they don't love the way people do… they don't have big brothers the way people do. They're supposed to have compassion for humans but most of the time it seems more like condescension. Probably best to leave them as they are.
Are you hunting wendigoes? Remember that wendigo hunt we went on… It seems like forever ago.
Jess is still dead. Death wouldn't include her in the bargain. Or Dad. I'm sorry about that… But I did the best I could. Not easy to deal with someone who has all the cards, all the money and all the chips.
I hope you're not doing stupid things without backup. Take care of yourself, big brother.
I love you, and I remember.
Sam
Extract from Dean's letter to Sam, May 2, 2007
I don't even know what else to say, Sam. We've never been big on words. You always knew how I felt, you knew it better than I did.
So you probably know how I feel now.
And don't tell me it'll get better, Sammy. This isn't the kind of thing that goes Denial and Anger and Whatever the hell and then everything's fine. This is where I wake up every day for the rest of my life and start to ask if you want breakfast and remember that you're not there and hate the world.
My point is, I'll live, since it's what you wanted, but all I really care about is getting to see you again.
Dean would have died.
Sam would have watched Dean be ripped to pieces by hellhounds, and hugged his body and felt like the world was ending.
This was better than that.
Everything was better than that.
Sam looked at the date on his cell phone alert, flashing to remind him that Death's letter was due, and whichever Angel came to deliver it would also take Sam's letter to Dean.
Sam grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. He didn't really know what to say. He just knew that Dean had to be miserable, because Sam had been spared the pain of his brother dying in his arms, but Dean hadn't. So Sam had to try to cheer him up.
His cell phone rang.
Dean reached out blindly to shut it off. Even barely online, his brain knew that today was a bad day, a terrible day, the worst day ever. Sam had died a year ago today, and Dean just wanted to stay asleep until the day was over, maybe stay asleep until his whole life was over and he woke up with Sam again.
The phone kept ringing, shrill and annoying.
Dean grabbed it and threw it to smash against the wall. He rolled over, trying to get back to sleep.
Something rustled under his pillow.
Dean fumbled for it, and found a plain white envelope. Cheap motel stationery. On the back, in achingly familiar handwriting, was his name.
Dean's throat burned. Sammy had remembered.
Sam's letter to Dean, May 2, 2008
Dean,
I know you're still upset. I'm sorry, I really am. If I'd seen another way, I would have taken it. But this was best for everyone.
I know you're still upset, but you're surviving, and that's something.
I'm proud of you, Dean. I don't think I said that enough, but you should know. You made me who I am.
I love you, big brother. I remember.
Sam
Extract from Dean's letter to Sam, May 2, 2007
You don't know how much it scares me that I might not see you. Death told me about the whole soulmate thing, but… Life changes people, right? I mean… What if I change so much that you don't WANT to be my soulmate?
Don't you understand, Sammy? Horrible things happened to us, but I survived them because of you. Without you I don't know if I can survive even a normal hunter's life without getting twisted into something awful.
Sam's world faded out in a haze of pain and cold and mud and Dean's arms around him -
And then he was on his feet, pain gone, and next to him Dean was still on his knees in the mud, holding his body and screaming his name.
Sam reached out, remembered too late that he was dead now, and his fingers passed right through Dean. Dean didn't even notice. He collapsed onto his rear in the mud, Sam's body still clutched tightly in his arms, and sobbed like the world was ending.
Sam's throat burned. He'd never meant to hurt Dean with his choice.
"Time to go, Sam."
Sam turned to see Death watching him. "You came for me yourself? I'm honoured."
"You should be. I have a lot of calls on my time. What can I say, Sam? I like you. But we can't stay."
"Wait. Isn't there some way I can… talk to Dean or something? Please. He'll go crazy. I just need to tell him I'm OK and… and everything."
"I'll make sure he knows whatever he needs to know, Sam. Don't worry about that."
"Please. Just… I just need to talk to him for a minute."
"No, Sam."
"I did this so Dean would be happy. You have to let me make sure he's at least at peace!"
"You can't talk to him."
"Can I text him? Email? Anything?"
Death sighed. "Demanding little insect, aren't you? Fine. Write him a letter. I'll see that he gets it. Now hurry up."
"Sorry, Dean," the demon said, and she did sound sorry. "I was going to deal with you, but there's been a change of plan. Sam's soul is off limits. Nobody can touch it - not us, not the Angels, nobody. He's free and clear for good."
"What? No! How is that even possible?"
"It is possible when I'm involved." Dean turned at the sound of the voice, looking suspiciously at the man he saw. He'd never seen him before - and yet he looked oddly familiar.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Death. Your brother made a deal with me. His life - permanently, no dealing his death away, no bringing him back, no disruption of the natural order - in exchange for which several crises never come to pass and you continue to live the safe and happy life you've been living all this time."
"Safe and happy?" Dean asked incredulously. "I'm a hunter."
"Trust me, you've been safe and happy. You're going to go on being - well, safe. I warned Sam I couldn't promise happy. That's up to you."
"No." The ground was dropping away from under Dean's feet. He'd never really accepted that Sam was gone, always knowing that he was going to come to this point, to the crossroads and the demon. "No, you don't get to do that. Is this - is this some kind of bargaining chip to get me to offer you more? Because this is a low move, even for you guys."
"I'm not a demon, Dean. I am Death."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"I have a letter from Sam for you."
The man - Death - held out a white envelope. Dean took it. His name was on the back, in Sam's handwriting.
"What did he do?" Dean whispered, staring at envelope, at DEAN written in Sam's untidy scrawl. "Why?" He looked at Death. "What's coming that's so horrible Sam thought he had to die to prevent it?"
"The possible end of the world. Several times. Potentially thousands of deaths. Maybe more. Terrible things happening to you, and I think that's what Sam wanted to prevent, even more than he wanted to save the world. You should never deal with demons, Dean."
"Wait - please. Please. I'll do anything. Anything you want. You want a life, take me instead. I don't even want ten years, I'll go with you now. Just please bring Sammy back."
"I'm sorry, Dean. No. But if it makes you feel better, I expect you'll see him again."
Dean shut his eyes for a second, forcing back tears.
Then he opened them and said, "OK, just… Can you answer some questions for me? And maybe take a letter to Sammy?"
Death hesitated, but finally nodded. "I like your brother, so… just this once."
Sam's letter to Dean, May 2, 2007
Hey, Dean.
I'm sorry. I guess you know by now what I did and I know you're probably mad, but… this is for the best, Dean. Trust me.
I don't know how much you remember about what the other reality was like, or how much Death will tell you. But I can tell you it sucked. This is better for everyone. And it's a price I'm more than willing to pay.
I want you to be happy, Dean. I want you to live.
I'll see you again in the end, I promise.
Sam
Extract from Dean's letter to Sam, May 2, 2007
So here's the deal, Sam. I'll do what you want - I'll live, or try to, and I won't go on any suicide missions or eat my gun. But you have to promise me that when it's over, when I die and if I manage to get let into Heaven, we'll be sharing it just like he said.
Promise me you're not going to decide I'm not good enough for you if I end up doing stupid things without you to stop me.
And promise me you'll remember I love you more than anything in the world. Promise me that, Sam, because it's always going to be true.
Dean
THE END