[mw] Kurt Vonnegut quote
[Set in one_smallchoice. Dean is ohgodkillme_now, Mary is asmymen_depart. Everyone else is an NPC. Set after THIS.]
“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”
It was all his fault.
He replayed the moments over and over in his head as he sat just outside the edge of the containment field. He had his knees pulled to his chest and just stared back at the frozen face of his brother in front of him and tried to figure out how this had happened. He didn’t know what had made the difference between saving Sam’s life and saving Dean’s, but he was going to sit there, sit there looking at his brother until he managed to figure that out.
It was just a second’s difference. They were running, Dean’s hands were on his shoulders pushing him forward. When Sam landed, Dean wasn’t behind him, and when he turned around it was just in time to see the amber swallow his brother whole. If Charlie hadn’t been there when he was, Sam would have probably thrown himself into the containment right after him.
“No! Let me go! DEAN!”
Charlie had him around the shoulders, pulling him back until he had him in a solid hold that he couldn’t squirm out of. “He’s gone, Sam. He’s gone.” He could hear the remorse in Charlie’s voice, the sadness that they couldn’t have waited a moment longer in order to get this situation contained.
In his mind, though, Sam knew that it wasn’t the same. This was his brother. Dean-had done more for him than most people would ever realize, and this was now the second time that a father figure had been taken from him, and this time it hurt far more than he thought it would. True, John hadn’t been around long enough to be much of a father, but Sam still felt the blow when he had died. And now Dean, the one who had meant so much more to him, was gone too. Sam honestly didn’t know how to process that.
Eventually he stopped struggling, stopped trying to save his brother, but that didn’t mean he was going anywhere either. He was sinking to the pavement, replaying all of it in his head, trying to figure out of there was something he could have done, some way that he could have saved Dean and made it so that his brother would be there to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. In the end, though, there wasn’t anything, no aspect of it that didn’t trace its way back to Sam, and what Sam thought he needed. Sam didn’t have to go to Harvard. Sam could have gone to Brown, or Stanford, or any other Ivy League school in the country, but no. He had to choose Harvard. He had to chose the place that got swallowed by a fringe event and cost him his brother’s life.
He felt Broyles’ hand on his shoulder, and did his best not to shove it off. “I’m sorry for your loss, Sam.” Sam didn’t respond at first, just continued staring at his brother and trying to process all of this and none of it sticking. It wasn’t possible. His brother couldn’t be dead. He was right there. “Would you like us to call your mother for you?”
That statement managed to snap Sam out of his reverie, forcing him to look up at the man standing over his shoulder. “No! No. I’ll tell her.” His mom didn’t deserve to hear it from Broyles in that clinical tone and all business. She deserved for Sam to go home and tell her in person. He knew that once she heard that the event happened at Harvard, she would be trying to reach the phone that he had lost somewhere on the way out. He needed to talk to her in person.
“Can you take me home?”
***
Mary took it just as well as he had expected her too. There was a lot of tears, a lot of cursing-some of it the job, some of it John-and then she demanded to see him. If Broyles hadn’t been such good friends with his father, Mary would have never gotten this close. But now they were back at Harvard again, and Dean was staring back at them again, and he knew that it was finally sinking in for her that another one of her boys was gone.
Mary had never been fond of the Fringe Division. She wanted her sons to stay in Lawrence, not follow in their father’s footsteps, and Sam was more than happy to oblige her in that. But Dean had always followed John without question. She knew it and Sam knew it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see the way it hurt when Dean told her what he planned to do with his life. But Mary knew why and Mary let him go because more than anything she wanted Dean to be happy. Sam could see it all over her face. But she didn’t want him to be this.
The amber had hardened at this point, and everything was frozen in place, but when Mary reached out to place her hand against the amber, Sam reached out to catch her anyway. They couldn’t be too careful. Sam couldn’t deal with losing his brother and his mother in one fell swoop. That would be too much.
“Be careful,” he whispered, sliding her other arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He had towered over her for a while, but even now she just seemed smaller. “It might not be stable yet.”
Mary nodded, letting her arm slip through his a bit so that she could squeeze his hand, but eventually she pushed him away, her hand covering her face as she started to walk away. “Don’t even get a damn body to bury.”
Sam’s head dropped at that. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He should have gotten out of there faster. Should have listened to Dean more. Maybe things would be better. Maybe Dean would still be there. This was all Sam’s fault.
“Oh, Sammy.” She turned back to face him, eyes wide with apology and pain, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam knew he hadn’t meant it like that, but that was all he could hear. Sam had screwed up and Dean was gone and it was all Sam’s fault. “No.” She pulled him in, arms wrapping around his neck and one hand pressing against the back of his head to keep him close. “This wasn’t your fault, Sam,” she whispered. “It was just an accident.”
“I want to fix it,” he choked, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder. “I want to make it better.”
“It’ll get better, sweetie. It’ll take a little time, but it’ll get better.” He could feel wet spots against his shoulder, hear the way her voice was cracking, and he just held her tighter, trying to remind her that she still had a son here, and that Sam wasn’t Dean, but he would take care of her. He would always take care of her.
“I know, Mom.”
She pulled back after a minute, cupping his face in her hands as she looked at him. “You’ll go back to school, and you’ll graduate and we’ll move on. Just like we always do.”
Sam nodded. “We should go back to the hotel. Get some rest.”
“Okay.” Her fingers brushed over his shoulder gently, keeping him close as she walked towards the car with him. “Everything’ll work out, Sam. You’ll see.”
***
Six months later, Sam had switched majors towards science and physics from history and anthropology. He had always been bright kid, and excelling in all areas, but history had had his eye since he was a kid. All it had taken was six months, however, to realize that if he wanted to make things better-if he wanted to fix things, looking backwards wasn’t going to help him get there. He needed to look forward, towards the technological advances and see if there was a way that maybe, just maybe, he could get Dean back.
If not for him, then for his mom.
There were still classes he needed to take in order to graduate, but by the time that everyone had been relocated, and the casualties in the event, the class side had shrunk down considerably, not that Sam cared. He just wanted to get through it. The sooner he got out of there with his degree, the sooner he could get to work with getting his brother back. And once that happened? Things would be better again.
They had to be.
1430 words
“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”
It was all his fault.
He replayed the moments over and over in his head as he sat just outside the edge of the containment field. He had his knees pulled to his chest and just stared back at the frozen face of his brother in front of him and tried to figure out how this had happened. He didn’t know what had made the difference between saving Sam’s life and saving Dean’s, but he was going to sit there, sit there looking at his brother until he managed to figure that out.
It was just a second’s difference. They were running, Dean’s hands were on his shoulders pushing him forward. When Sam landed, Dean wasn’t behind him, and when he turned around it was just in time to see the amber swallow his brother whole. If Charlie hadn’t been there when he was, Sam would have probably thrown himself into the containment right after him.
“No! Let me go! DEAN!”
Charlie had him around the shoulders, pulling him back until he had him in a solid hold that he couldn’t squirm out of. “He’s gone, Sam. He’s gone.” He could hear the remorse in Charlie’s voice, the sadness that they couldn’t have waited a moment longer in order to get this situation contained.
In his mind, though, Sam knew that it wasn’t the same. This was his brother. Dean-had done more for him than most people would ever realize, and this was now the second time that a father figure had been taken from him, and this time it hurt far more than he thought it would. True, John hadn’t been around long enough to be much of a father, but Sam still felt the blow when he had died. And now Dean, the one who had meant so much more to him, was gone too. Sam honestly didn’t know how to process that.
Eventually he stopped struggling, stopped trying to save his brother, but that didn’t mean he was going anywhere either. He was sinking to the pavement, replaying all of it in his head, trying to figure out of there was something he could have done, some way that he could have saved Dean and made it so that his brother would be there to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. In the end, though, there wasn’t anything, no aspect of it that didn’t trace its way back to Sam, and what Sam thought he needed. Sam didn’t have to go to Harvard. Sam could have gone to Brown, or Stanford, or any other Ivy League school in the country, but no. He had to choose Harvard. He had to chose the place that got swallowed by a fringe event and cost him his brother’s life.
He felt Broyles’ hand on his shoulder, and did his best not to shove it off. “I’m sorry for your loss, Sam.” Sam didn’t respond at first, just continued staring at his brother and trying to process all of this and none of it sticking. It wasn’t possible. His brother couldn’t be dead. He was right there. “Would you like us to call your mother for you?”
That statement managed to snap Sam out of his reverie, forcing him to look up at the man standing over his shoulder. “No! No. I’ll tell her.” His mom didn’t deserve to hear it from Broyles in that clinical tone and all business. She deserved for Sam to go home and tell her in person. He knew that once she heard that the event happened at Harvard, she would be trying to reach the phone that he had lost somewhere on the way out. He needed to talk to her in person.
“Can you take me home?”
***
Mary took it just as well as he had expected her too. There was a lot of tears, a lot of cursing-some of it the job, some of it John-and then she demanded to see him. If Broyles hadn’t been such good friends with his father, Mary would have never gotten this close. But now they were back at Harvard again, and Dean was staring back at them again, and he knew that it was finally sinking in for her that another one of her boys was gone.
Mary had never been fond of the Fringe Division. She wanted her sons to stay in Lawrence, not follow in their father’s footsteps, and Sam was more than happy to oblige her in that. But Dean had always followed John without question. She knew it and Sam knew it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see the way it hurt when Dean told her what he planned to do with his life. But Mary knew why and Mary let him go because more than anything she wanted Dean to be happy. Sam could see it all over her face. But she didn’t want him to be this.
The amber had hardened at this point, and everything was frozen in place, but when Mary reached out to place her hand against the amber, Sam reached out to catch her anyway. They couldn’t be too careful. Sam couldn’t deal with losing his brother and his mother in one fell swoop. That would be too much.
“Be careful,” he whispered, sliding her other arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He had towered over her for a while, but even now she just seemed smaller. “It might not be stable yet.”
Mary nodded, letting her arm slip through his a bit so that she could squeeze his hand, but eventually she pushed him away, her hand covering her face as she started to walk away. “Don’t even get a damn body to bury.”
Sam’s head dropped at that. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He should have gotten out of there faster. Should have listened to Dean more. Maybe things would be better. Maybe Dean would still be there. This was all Sam’s fault.
“Oh, Sammy.” She turned back to face him, eyes wide with apology and pain, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam knew he hadn’t meant it like that, but that was all he could hear. Sam had screwed up and Dean was gone and it was all Sam’s fault. “No.” She pulled him in, arms wrapping around his neck and one hand pressing against the back of his head to keep him close. “This wasn’t your fault, Sam,” she whispered. “It was just an accident.”
“I want to fix it,” he choked, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder. “I want to make it better.”
“It’ll get better, sweetie. It’ll take a little time, but it’ll get better.” He could feel wet spots against his shoulder, hear the way her voice was cracking, and he just held her tighter, trying to remind her that she still had a son here, and that Sam wasn’t Dean, but he would take care of her. He would always take care of her.
“I know, Mom.”
She pulled back after a minute, cupping his face in her hands as she looked at him. “You’ll go back to school, and you’ll graduate and we’ll move on. Just like we always do.”
Sam nodded. “We should go back to the hotel. Get some rest.”
“Okay.” Her fingers brushed over his shoulder gently, keeping him close as she walked towards the car with him. “Everything’ll work out, Sam. You’ll see.”
***
Six months later, Sam had switched majors towards science and physics from history and anthropology. He had always been bright kid, and excelling in all areas, but history had had his eye since he was a kid. All it had taken was six months, however, to realize that if he wanted to make things better-if he wanted to fix things, looking backwards wasn’t going to help him get there. He needed to look forward, towards the technological advances and see if there was a way that maybe, just maybe, he could get Dean back.
If not for him, then for his mom.
There were still classes he needed to take in order to graduate, but by the time that everyone had been relocated, and the casualties in the event, the class side had shrunk down considerably, not that Sam cared. He just wanted to get through it. The sooner he got out of there with his degree, the sooner he could get to work with getting his brother back. And once that happened? Things would be better again.
They had to be.
1430 words