coda.
title: Coda: Unsaid; Hope; Start
rating: G
word count: 1318
disclaimer: if they were mine, i'd keep them jollygood happy, hopped up on sugar, forever in prank war mode and there'd damn well be hugs.
a/n: gen, in general. wincest if you really squint. sam-centric. a coda to Unsaid, Hope and Start. any kind of comments and crits would be most welcomed and appreciated.
warning: there's angst...and...angst...and then there's schmoop. be warned.
summary: sam wants to remember dean. forever.
Coda
Sam knew it was a dream. Dean once called him O Mighty Dream Connoisseur. Sam was still wondering where Dean had learned to use the word connoisseur properly. The point, was, that Sam could differentiate between a dream and reality like nobody’s business. He was mostly certain because of that. And, also, because there was Dean. And Dad. And Mom.
They were sitting on the Impala’s hood, talking and laughing in hushed tones but the bliss in their faces were blatant, imprinting itself in Sam’s mind in neon letters, searing behind his corneas. The car - Dean’s car, still - was parked in front of the house. The house Dean had picked to be Sam’s. As if they were coming to visit. The surrounding trees were changing colours and the sky was an amazing yellow-red.
Dad was talking to Dean, beaming at him and Dean was grinning boyishly back. Mom was seated behind him and stroking his hair and Dean laughed at something Dad said and tilted his head back to say something to Mom and she kissed the point of his nose and he looked the happiest Sam had ever saw.
In the background he could hear Hope talking in her tiny little girl voice.
Daddy! What are you doing standing there? Go to them. You know you want to.
He wanted to - so bad. And so he did. They were still lost in their conversation, the only detail audible to Sam was Dean’s laughter, deep and sincere and real. He reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder and everything - the car, his family - vanished right in front of his eyes. The sudden emptiness singed his heart right to his very core and he felt a dying sensation immediately.
“You’re alone, Sam.”
He couldn’t see the face and when the speaker stepped in close he found out why. There was no face. No features except glowing yellow eyes. It was the one who started it all.
The Demon grinned. “Your family left you to be with each other.”
“My family died because of you,” Sam seethed, the disappointment and rage combining to suffocate him.
“Yes, your Mommy died to save you from me. Your Dad wanted to blame you, you know? You caused his wife’s death. He tried and he tried and he buried it, masked by his drive to find me. He loved you but he couldn’t express it because it would eventually turn to hate. If he showed you that he loved you it would wear off. And all that’s left is hate. Because deep down that’s what it was. Hatred. To you.”
“No,” Sam choked, shaking his head.
“His death,” the Demon paused. “It proves a point, didn’t it? He knew someday someone would have to die for you again. He wasn’t sure if he could do it when the time comes so he passed the torch to Dean. Because Dean would kill for you if he had to but he would die for you with no reason at all, doesn’t he? Your father would die for your brother but he didn’t think he could die for the one who killed his wife.”
“You don’t know that,” Sam said, hating his voice.
“You and me, we are alike, Sam. Your mother’s death? It was you and me that made it happen.”
“No! Dean said…”
“Ah! Dean. He would say anything to make you feel better, Sammy. You know the real reason he died saving you? You weren’t much of his family anymore and he needed that. He wanted a family that you could never give. You always wanted to be normal. After your father’s death he desired to settle down, be normal. But you wanted to hunt instead. You’re always against him and he always complies. He was a good brother. You are not.”
“I’m never a good brother,” Sam whispered to himself, the words echoing in his head.
“That’s not true.”
Sam blinked and Dean was there, next to the black figure. Dean as he had first remembered. The Dean that came for him at Stanford. The Dean with the longing and gladness and joy in his eyes for Sam and apprehension with a glint of hope for Dad.
“You’re a great brother, Sammy.”
“Listen to him. He’s dead and long gone and you still need to count on his pep talk.”
“I…”
“Come with me, Sam. You have no one else in this world. I’ll have you.”
Sam stepped forward as the Demon reached out, already feeling the pit in his heart filled with something malevolent but he couldn’t help it. He heard Dean’s voice screaming - No, Sammy! He’s not your family! You are not alone! You have me! In Hope! You have Hope! and then Hope’s cries - Daddy! Daddy! and he opened his eyes and saw the flame licking at his outstretched limbs, the Demon cackling madly. He tried to fight back but he was too far in and he was losing his breath. Dean was there in a flash, jerking him away from the tight clutches and enveloping himself against the Demon’s torso. The Demon was burning and Dean was burning, leaving Sam helpless at the heap on the ground, watching as his brother was engulfed in evil flame, saving his soul yet once again.
*
“Dean.”
His brother opened his eyes, clear green shadowed by heavy lashes, and smiled. “Sammy. You wouldn’t leave me in peace, would you?”
Sam looked around. Everything was blindingly white. “Are you really? In peace?”
“What does it look to you?”
“I don’t know. Lonely.”
“Loneliness,” Dean sighed. “That’s always stuck in your head, Sammy. You’re alone when Dad and I left you for a late night hunt, you’re alone when you’re with us in a hunt, you’re alone when you left for Stanford, you’re alone when we were chasing after Dad, you’re alone when we hunt together, you’re alone when I’m gone. When weren’t you alone, Sam?”
“Are you, Dean?” Sam whimpered. “Are you alone?”
“Well,” Dean smirked, propping himself up with an elbow, lying on his side. “You’re here with me, now, aren’t you? That’s all that really matters, Sammy. It’s all.”
“But I am trapping you, aren’t I? Here? With me?”
Dean laughed, low and steady. “I’m not really here, Sam. I’m not living in a loft in your brain. But my memory is. And if you need that, my memory, to always be here, it will.”
“I was never alone when I’m with you, Dean. When you’re with me I was never alone.”
“Then you can keep me,” Dean’s smile was comforting. “My memory. You can keep it with you.”
When Sam was two and Dean hugged him, he smelt like Sam’s baby powder. When Sam was four and Dean allowed them to cuddle in the back of the Impala, he had smelt like apple juice and pie. When Sam was twelve, on his first hunt and Dean propped him up in the middle of the forest after his first kill, he smelt like salt and ash. When Sam was fourteen and they were fighting a lot, tussling and constantly at each other’s throats, he smelt like engine oil. When Sam was leaving and Dean hugged him harshly before driving away in the Impala, he smelt like sweat and tears and alcohol, a hint of coppery blood. When Sam was older and Dean had picked him off the ground numerous times after he had been attacked by the Bloody Mary, hit by the Demon’s spawn, knocked off his feet by painful visions, Dean had smelt like gun powder and mind-numbing smoke.
Now, when Dean hugged him, really hugged him like he would never let go, he smelt like everything he had before. All scent combined together and packaged neatly inside, all warm and comforting and caring and loving. And forever there.
And so Sam inhaled, really inhaled because he would want to remember.
The End
coda ii