Fic: 'My Ghosts Are Not Gone Ch.2' (Supernatural)
Rated: T
Pairings: Gen
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Spoilers for season 11 finale
Word Count: 2.569
Summary: AU - Sam has died in Cold Oak and Dean couldn’t bring him back to life. For years after, Dean manages to drag himself from one hunt to the next, not sure why he still forces himself to stay alive and keep on doing the family business when there’s no family left.
Fast forward, he is confused when Amara tells him she’d give him what he desires the most. But when he meets a 24-year-old Sam stumbling through the woods, it all seems to make sense.
.
When Sam woke up, it was still dark outside. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. But when he finally could distinguish his surroundings, it was the green of Dean’s eyes that stood out. He’d recognize it anywhere, the color branded into his brain, clear as crystal in front of his mental eye.
“You watching me?” His voice came out croaky.
“Yeah.”
Sam chuckled lazily, still tired from sleep. “Creep. Can you open the door? Let some fresh air in.”
“Sure you’re not cold?”
“The heating’s on. ‘m alright.”
Dean opened the door and the cool night air that rushed in helped him wake up some more.
“You couldn’t sleep?” Had he been watching Sam the whole night? Dean shrugged. “You should, though. You look beat.”
He could hear the smile in his brother’s voice when he answered, “I feel awesome.”
Sam sighed. “Dean.” All of his questions were conveyed in his brother’s name and he knew that Dean got it. It has always been this way with them. They had a way of communicating in a way that only they could understand.
His brother propped himself further up then, got behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
“We going somewhere?” He climbed to the front bank while trying to be careful not to hit Dean, still too clumsy from sleep to properly coordinate his limbs. After he closed the door, he leaned against the cool window, Dean in his field of vision. It was still so dark.
“I’m gonna show you what happened.” His brother’s voice held a strange tone.
Sam rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like you to make a riddle out of something.”
“Maybe I changed.”
“While I was gone?” He chuckled, shaking his head. Dean didn’t answer him.
.
He must have fallen asleep again sometime during the ride. When he woke up, it was to the orange-red of the rising sun.
“How long have I been asleep?” He croaked.
“Not so long. We’re almost there.”
“Where?”
“Lawrence.”
Surprised, he raised his eyebrows. Lawrence was some sort of topic that wasn’t breached in his family. Even after all these years the wound that his mother’s death had opened remained fresh. It’d probably never heal. That’s why he became even more cautious when he recognized where they were headed towards.
“The cemetery?” Dean didn’t answer and stopped the car, opened the door and got out. Sam rushed to keep up, curiosity and confusion making him follow his brother without another word. It was cool, morning air fresh, making him put his fists into Dean’s jacket. When he looked towards his brother though, he didn’t seem to be cold, his bare shirt seemingly enough of a barrier against the blowing wind. Instead, Dean’s eyes were focused on the path before them.
Sam had known they’d be walking it before they got out of the car. Why else would they be here?
When they reached his mother’s grave he started inspecting the headstone closely. It was simple and sleek, yet strangely pretty. Although they had only visited it on rare occasions, every detail was clear on his mind because of how intensely he had stared at it those few times they had went to Lawrence. That’s why he noticed the differences immediately. The stone looked a little more weathered, a little less white than the last time he had been here.
He glanced up to meet Dean’s stare. His brother wasn’t looking at him though, neither was he watching their mother’s grave. Instead, his gaze was trained on the grave next to his mother’s.
Sam could feel the air getting struck in his throat, the chill inside his blood making his hackles and what felt like every hair on his body stand up. The empty space next to his mother’s grave was filled by a white headstone; a simple, classic figure of an angel smiling gracefully decorating it. The angel was made out of the same material the headstone was built in and was seemingly glancing towards the carvings in the centre.
Sam Winchester
1983 - 2007
“Dean,” he didn’t care to hide the panic in his voice, couldn’t. “Dean, what -“ he took a shallow breath, trying to calm down in order to focus but damn it, he couldn’t just- “What is this?”
“Sammy.” His brother turned towards him and now that it wasn’t as dark he realized just how deep those lines in his face were, how old Dean looked. “Sammy, it’s 2016.”
“No.”
“You’ve been gone for nine years.”
“No,” he denied, wildly shaking his head. “No, you can’t- That doesn’t make any sense.”
Dean walked towards him in one quick stride, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to stay still and look him in the eyes, tearing them away fromhis own grave. “Sam, listen to me. It was Yellow Eyes. He abducted you and all the other people with psychic abilities and brought you to Cold Oak.” His brother’s voice was agitated and it only caused his heart’s erratic rhythm to pick up even more speed.
The pictures in his mind that seemed to appear and slip away returned with full force, faster and with a multitude that made the pictures into a video, playing in front of his mental eye.
“Do you remember, Sam? Do you?” Dean sounded utterly broken and torn at the same time. Sam wanted to comfort him. Instead, he could only stare emptily towards his headstone. He tore away from Dean’s grip and crouched down, touching the place where his name was carved on with trembling fingers.
“Andy, Ava, Lily and Jake,” he remembered suddenly. “We’ve been all there. He wanted us to fight each other to death. But why-“
“Yeah, you contacted me, remember?” Dean interrupted him, a hurried rush in his voice, almost desperate.
“I-I didn’t know where I was- or, I’m not sure.”
“You did. You contacted me, Sammy. I was on my way, almost there. Do you remember, Sammy? Do you remember?”
He did. Suddenly Dean’s smile was clear in his mind. He had been walking towards him. Dean had gotten there to save him but some details were still so hazy while he could remember other scenes with startling clarity. “What happened?”
He almost regretted asking it. His brother’s eyes were full of sorrow, the shield of nonchalance he normally put on to hide his feelings gone. “It was Jake. Stabbed you in the back. I was almost there but- he was suddenly behind you and…”
“I died,” he finished Dean’s sentence. It sounded weird coming out of one’s mouth. “How did I come back?” Because that was the only sensible thing to ask after what he had just found out.
“Long story,” Dean grumbled. With a sigh, he sat down in front of the grave and Sam, not knowing what else to do, did the same. He didn’t know how long they sat there in silence when he decided to ask the first out of thousand of questions that came into his mind.
“If I’m up here, then what’s downstairs? I mean, did you,” he cringed, trying to suppress the shudder running down his back. “Did you even bury my… corpse-“
“Oh my God, don’t say that,” Dean interrupted him. “Yeah, I-“ he huffed, visibly uncomfortable talking about this topic. “I buried your body okay? Even got you a girly angel since you’ve told me that you’ve been praying and all.”
Sam grinned as he turned back towards the stone angel still smiling towards his name on the centre of the headstone. “I like it.”
“You better. I really had to pull myself together not to hammer that thing to dust more times than I cared to count. It also took me pretty fucking long to find a figure that didn’t look creepy, so-“ He shrugged.
“Thanks,” Sam said, smiling as he could feel his brother grow uncomfortable. Now that they weren’t as overwhelmed he noticed that his brother was just as unwilling to talk about his feelings as always.
“Why didn’t you burn me?” He still felt the blazing heat of the fire they had burnt their father on. The flash of pain that accompanied the memory made him regret that he had even asked that question. Dean shrugged. “You should’ve. What if I had come back to haunt your ass?”
His brother chuckled and shook his head. When he grumbled something under his breath his voice was so low that Sam almost didn’t catch it. “Was waiting for it.”
He wanted to tell Dean that it hadn’t been the right thing to do, that it wasn’t healthy to bury someone in the hopes you might see them again in the form of a ghost. But the thing was, Sam got it. He imagined being in his brother’s shoes, Dean dead; had he been really able to put his brother’s body on a pyre and- He shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about it.
“How are you?” Because if Sam didn’t even want to think about it, how bad must have been the reality for Dean?
“I’m great.”
“How have you been?” Dean stood up then, pointedly ignoring his question and Sam decided not to force him any further. “What do you think? My body still down there?” He grinned because, man, that sure was an interesting question.
“We sure as hell not finding it out.” Dean made a grimace. “Come on,” he called and started walking towards the car. Sam stood up and glanced back one last time to inspect the angel.
“Hey Dean.”
His brother turned around. “Yeah?”
“You think it was God? Who brought me back, I mean.”
His question made Dean chuckle mockingly. “You’re such a naïve kid; it’s cute, really.”
“Not a kid,” he grumbled as he arrived at the passenger side of the Impala.
“You’re twenty-four, Sam. Definitely a kid. Jeez, I’m thirteen years older than you now, show your elders some respect.”
Sam rolled his eyes as he sunk into his seat. “I’m serious. Bringing people back to life? Who else if not God would do that?”
His brother shook his head and laughed, a bitter sound tainting his voice. “You don’t know how much crazy, freaky crap is out there, Sam. You’ll find out soon enough though I’d like to keep in you in the dark for a little longer. You know,” he grinned and ruffled through Sam’s hair. “Keep your innocence and all that.”
Dean probably wanted it to come off as a joke but Sam could hear the serious intent in his brother’s voice. It reminded him of when they were little, when Dean refused to tell him why they were constantly moving every few weeks and why their father left for days at a time only to return exhausted and injured.
“I’m not a child, Dean, and ignorance won’t make me into one. You’ll have to tell me what’s going on.” His brother delayed answering by starting the engine and letting the car roll forwards. So Sam tried applying a different strategy. “How will I be able to protect myself if I don’t know what we’re up against?”
“Don’t have to do anything, Sammy,” Dean argued, his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “I’ll keep you safe. I know I failed last time but-“
“Woah Dean-“
His brother wouldn’t let himself be interrupted though. “I know I failed last time but I improved. I had to with all the shit that was happening on this planet. I’ll do it right this time.”
Sometimes, Sam thought they were empathic or something. It would have been one explanation for the bone deep sorrow that filled him when he tried to understand what his brother had went through when he had died. “Please tell me you haven’t been holding this against yourself for all these years.”
Dean shook his head; not in answer to his question but in disbelief. “What do you think I did, Sam?” It was the first time since his brother had recognized him that anger seeped into his voice. In some ways, it was better. He’d rather have an angry Dean than a sad one. He’d let his brother take out his anger on him, but sorrow was something much harder to be dealt with because Dean was unable to accept help.
“It’s not your job to look out after-“
“That’s exactly what it is.” His voice was harsh and shutting down any further arguments. It made Sam snort exasperatedly. He’d have more success arguing with a wall than with his brother when it came to this topic. Keeping me safe shouldn’t be your purpose in life, he wanted to say. He didn’t though. Dean would take it as an insult to the mission he had dedicated himself to.
“Dumbass,” he grumbled. “I hope you know that there’s nothing you could’ve done.”
“There’s always something-“
“No.” Sam refused to let his brother finish that sentence. “God damn it, don’t make me say it out loud.” Uncomfortably he watched the trees on the side of the road pass by and inspected the cars’ license plates. After fidgeting for a few minutes under Dean’s scrutiny though, he decided to voice it after all. “You’re the best brother out there. I know that and you should know that, too.”
He could feel his brother’s heavy hand ruffling through his hair and he asked himself whether it was his long absence or maybe their technically bigger age gap that made Dean treat him even more like a kid that he usually did.
“Aww Sammy, your hero worship is showing.” He could hear the bastard grinning and rolled his eyes. “Just wait till I show you the batcave. You’ll love it. Always knew you’d love it but never have thought that you’d actually get to see it.”
“Batcave?”
Dean nodded excitedly and despite treating Sam like he was four years old earlier, he seemed to be the bigger kid out of the two of them right now. “There’s so much nerdy stuff there. A lot of it I didn’t really care for but I always thought, man, if Sam was here…” He shook his head in disbelief, that bright grin still on his face.
Sam didn’t want to know how often Dean had done that. Had seen something random that had automatically triggered a ‘If Sam was here’, even after all these years that have seemingly passed. It was pointless to talk about it with his brother though.
“How long?”
“Not so long. It’s in Lebanon. Wanna get some sleep?”
“Nah.” He turned the music on, The Battle Of Evermore playing through their father’s old Led Zeppelin IV cassette. “Wanna let me drive?”
“At the next gas stop, okay?”
Perks of coming back from the dead, Sam thought. Your brother couldn’t deny you those little things.
.
Pairings: Gen
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Spoilers for season 11 finale
Word Count: 2.569
Summary: AU - Sam has died in Cold Oak and Dean couldn’t bring him back to life. For years after, Dean manages to drag himself from one hunt to the next, not sure why he still forces himself to stay alive and keep on doing the family business when there’s no family left.
Fast forward, he is confused when Amara tells him she’d give him what he desires the most. But when he meets a 24-year-old Sam stumbling through the woods, it all seems to make sense.
.
When Sam woke up, it was still dark outside. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. But when he finally could distinguish his surroundings, it was the green of Dean’s eyes that stood out. He’d recognize it anywhere, the color branded into his brain, clear as crystal in front of his mental eye.
“You watching me?” His voice came out croaky.
“Yeah.”
Sam chuckled lazily, still tired from sleep. “Creep. Can you open the door? Let some fresh air in.”
“Sure you’re not cold?”
“The heating’s on. ‘m alright.”
Dean opened the door and the cool night air that rushed in helped him wake up some more.
“You couldn’t sleep?” Had he been watching Sam the whole night? Dean shrugged. “You should, though. You look beat.”
He could hear the smile in his brother’s voice when he answered, “I feel awesome.”
Sam sighed. “Dean.” All of his questions were conveyed in his brother’s name and he knew that Dean got it. It has always been this way with them. They had a way of communicating in a way that only they could understand.
His brother propped himself further up then, got behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
“We going somewhere?” He climbed to the front bank while trying to be careful not to hit Dean, still too clumsy from sleep to properly coordinate his limbs. After he closed the door, he leaned against the cool window, Dean in his field of vision. It was still so dark.
“I’m gonna show you what happened.” His brother’s voice held a strange tone.
Sam rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like you to make a riddle out of something.”
“Maybe I changed.”
“While I was gone?” He chuckled, shaking his head. Dean didn’t answer him.
.
He must have fallen asleep again sometime during the ride. When he woke up, it was to the orange-red of the rising sun.
“How long have I been asleep?” He croaked.
“Not so long. We’re almost there.”
“Where?”
“Lawrence.”
Surprised, he raised his eyebrows. Lawrence was some sort of topic that wasn’t breached in his family. Even after all these years the wound that his mother’s death had opened remained fresh. It’d probably never heal. That’s why he became even more cautious when he recognized where they were headed towards.
“The cemetery?” Dean didn’t answer and stopped the car, opened the door and got out. Sam rushed to keep up, curiosity and confusion making him follow his brother without another word. It was cool, morning air fresh, making him put his fists into Dean’s jacket. When he looked towards his brother though, he didn’t seem to be cold, his bare shirt seemingly enough of a barrier against the blowing wind. Instead, Dean’s eyes were focused on the path before them.
Sam had known they’d be walking it before they got out of the car. Why else would they be here?
When they reached his mother’s grave he started inspecting the headstone closely. It was simple and sleek, yet strangely pretty. Although they had only visited it on rare occasions, every detail was clear on his mind because of how intensely he had stared at it those few times they had went to Lawrence. That’s why he noticed the differences immediately. The stone looked a little more weathered, a little less white than the last time he had been here.
He glanced up to meet Dean’s stare. His brother wasn’t looking at him though, neither was he watching their mother’s grave. Instead, his gaze was trained on the grave next to his mother’s.
Sam could feel the air getting struck in his throat, the chill inside his blood making his hackles and what felt like every hair on his body stand up. The empty space next to his mother’s grave was filled by a white headstone; a simple, classic figure of an angel smiling gracefully decorating it. The angel was made out of the same material the headstone was built in and was seemingly glancing towards the carvings in the centre.
Sam Winchester
1983 - 2007
“Dean,” he didn’t care to hide the panic in his voice, couldn’t. “Dean, what -“ he took a shallow breath, trying to calm down in order to focus but damn it, he couldn’t just- “What is this?”
“Sammy.” His brother turned towards him and now that it wasn’t as dark he realized just how deep those lines in his face were, how old Dean looked. “Sammy, it’s 2016.”
“No.”
“You’ve been gone for nine years.”
“No,” he denied, wildly shaking his head. “No, you can’t- That doesn’t make any sense.”
Dean walked towards him in one quick stride, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to stay still and look him in the eyes, tearing them away fromhis own grave. “Sam, listen to me. It was Yellow Eyes. He abducted you and all the other people with psychic abilities and brought you to Cold Oak.” His brother’s voice was agitated and it only caused his heart’s erratic rhythm to pick up even more speed.
The pictures in his mind that seemed to appear and slip away returned with full force, faster and with a multitude that made the pictures into a video, playing in front of his mental eye.
“Do you remember, Sam? Do you?” Dean sounded utterly broken and torn at the same time. Sam wanted to comfort him. Instead, he could only stare emptily towards his headstone. He tore away from Dean’s grip and crouched down, touching the place where his name was carved on with trembling fingers.
“Andy, Ava, Lily and Jake,” he remembered suddenly. “We’ve been all there. He wanted us to fight each other to death. But why-“
“Yeah, you contacted me, remember?” Dean interrupted him, a hurried rush in his voice, almost desperate.
“I-I didn’t know where I was- or, I’m not sure.”
“You did. You contacted me, Sammy. I was on my way, almost there. Do you remember, Sammy? Do you remember?”
He did. Suddenly Dean’s smile was clear in his mind. He had been walking towards him. Dean had gotten there to save him but some details were still so hazy while he could remember other scenes with startling clarity. “What happened?”
He almost regretted asking it. His brother’s eyes were full of sorrow, the shield of nonchalance he normally put on to hide his feelings gone. “It was Jake. Stabbed you in the back. I was almost there but- he was suddenly behind you and…”
“I died,” he finished Dean’s sentence. It sounded weird coming out of one’s mouth. “How did I come back?” Because that was the only sensible thing to ask after what he had just found out.
“Long story,” Dean grumbled. With a sigh, he sat down in front of the grave and Sam, not knowing what else to do, did the same. He didn’t know how long they sat there in silence when he decided to ask the first out of thousand of questions that came into his mind.
“If I’m up here, then what’s downstairs? I mean, did you,” he cringed, trying to suppress the shudder running down his back. “Did you even bury my… corpse-“
“Oh my God, don’t say that,” Dean interrupted him. “Yeah, I-“ he huffed, visibly uncomfortable talking about this topic. “I buried your body okay? Even got you a girly angel since you’ve told me that you’ve been praying and all.”
Sam grinned as he turned back towards the stone angel still smiling towards his name on the centre of the headstone. “I like it.”
“You better. I really had to pull myself together not to hammer that thing to dust more times than I cared to count. It also took me pretty fucking long to find a figure that didn’t look creepy, so-“ He shrugged.
“Thanks,” Sam said, smiling as he could feel his brother grow uncomfortable. Now that they weren’t as overwhelmed he noticed that his brother was just as unwilling to talk about his feelings as always.
“Why didn’t you burn me?” He still felt the blazing heat of the fire they had burnt their father on. The flash of pain that accompanied the memory made him regret that he had even asked that question. Dean shrugged. “You should’ve. What if I had come back to haunt your ass?”
His brother chuckled and shook his head. When he grumbled something under his breath his voice was so low that Sam almost didn’t catch it. “Was waiting for it.”
He wanted to tell Dean that it hadn’t been the right thing to do, that it wasn’t healthy to bury someone in the hopes you might see them again in the form of a ghost. But the thing was, Sam got it. He imagined being in his brother’s shoes, Dean dead; had he been really able to put his brother’s body on a pyre and- He shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about it.
“How are you?” Because if Sam didn’t even want to think about it, how bad must have been the reality for Dean?
“I’m great.”
“How have you been?” Dean stood up then, pointedly ignoring his question and Sam decided not to force him any further. “What do you think? My body still down there?” He grinned because, man, that sure was an interesting question.
“We sure as hell not finding it out.” Dean made a grimace. “Come on,” he called and started walking towards the car. Sam stood up and glanced back one last time to inspect the angel.
“Hey Dean.”
His brother turned around. “Yeah?”
“You think it was God? Who brought me back, I mean.”
His question made Dean chuckle mockingly. “You’re such a naïve kid; it’s cute, really.”
“Not a kid,” he grumbled as he arrived at the passenger side of the Impala.
“You’re twenty-four, Sam. Definitely a kid. Jeez, I’m thirteen years older than you now, show your elders some respect.”
Sam rolled his eyes as he sunk into his seat. “I’m serious. Bringing people back to life? Who else if not God would do that?”
His brother shook his head and laughed, a bitter sound tainting his voice. “You don’t know how much crazy, freaky crap is out there, Sam. You’ll find out soon enough though I’d like to keep in you in the dark for a little longer. You know,” he grinned and ruffled through Sam’s hair. “Keep your innocence and all that.”
Dean probably wanted it to come off as a joke but Sam could hear the serious intent in his brother’s voice. It reminded him of when they were little, when Dean refused to tell him why they were constantly moving every few weeks and why their father left for days at a time only to return exhausted and injured.
“I’m not a child, Dean, and ignorance won’t make me into one. You’ll have to tell me what’s going on.” His brother delayed answering by starting the engine and letting the car roll forwards. So Sam tried applying a different strategy. “How will I be able to protect myself if I don’t know what we’re up against?”
“Don’t have to do anything, Sammy,” Dean argued, his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “I’ll keep you safe. I know I failed last time but-“
“Woah Dean-“
His brother wouldn’t let himself be interrupted though. “I know I failed last time but I improved. I had to with all the shit that was happening on this planet. I’ll do it right this time.”
Sometimes, Sam thought they were empathic or something. It would have been one explanation for the bone deep sorrow that filled him when he tried to understand what his brother had went through when he had died. “Please tell me you haven’t been holding this against yourself for all these years.”
Dean shook his head; not in answer to his question but in disbelief. “What do you think I did, Sam?” It was the first time since his brother had recognized him that anger seeped into his voice. In some ways, it was better. He’d rather have an angry Dean than a sad one. He’d let his brother take out his anger on him, but sorrow was something much harder to be dealt with because Dean was unable to accept help.
“It’s not your job to look out after-“
“That’s exactly what it is.” His voice was harsh and shutting down any further arguments. It made Sam snort exasperatedly. He’d have more success arguing with a wall than with his brother when it came to this topic. Keeping me safe shouldn’t be your purpose in life, he wanted to say. He didn’t though. Dean would take it as an insult to the mission he had dedicated himself to.
“Dumbass,” he grumbled. “I hope you know that there’s nothing you could’ve done.”
“There’s always something-“
“No.” Sam refused to let his brother finish that sentence. “God damn it, don’t make me say it out loud.” Uncomfortably he watched the trees on the side of the road pass by and inspected the cars’ license plates. After fidgeting for a few minutes under Dean’s scrutiny though, he decided to voice it after all. “You’re the best brother out there. I know that and you should know that, too.”
He could feel his brother’s heavy hand ruffling through his hair and he asked himself whether it was his long absence or maybe their technically bigger age gap that made Dean treat him even more like a kid that he usually did.
“Aww Sammy, your hero worship is showing.” He could hear the bastard grinning and rolled his eyes. “Just wait till I show you the batcave. You’ll love it. Always knew you’d love it but never have thought that you’d actually get to see it.”
“Batcave?”
Dean nodded excitedly and despite treating Sam like he was four years old earlier, he seemed to be the bigger kid out of the two of them right now. “There’s so much nerdy stuff there. A lot of it I didn’t really care for but I always thought, man, if Sam was here…” He shook his head in disbelief, that bright grin still on his face.
Sam didn’t want to know how often Dean had done that. Had seen something random that had automatically triggered a ‘If Sam was here’, even after all these years that have seemingly passed. It was pointless to talk about it with his brother though.
“How long?”
“Not so long. It’s in Lebanon. Wanna get some sleep?”
“Nah.” He turned the music on, The Battle Of Evermore playing through their father’s old Led Zeppelin IV cassette. “Wanna let me drive?”
“At the next gas stop, okay?”
Perks of coming back from the dead, Sam thought. Your brother couldn’t deny you those little things.
.