Without You, PG-13
Art Prompt Title:#1
Art Link: Here is the link to the video
Artist: wordplay__
Fic Title:Without You
Author:lethiaw77
Genre:Gen, AU post S5
Pairings:none really, Dean centric and if you see homoerotic subtext in the show you'll probably see it here too
Rating:PG-13 (angst, melodrama, and words your momma would wash your mouth out with soap for using)
Word Count:5,400
Summary:Dean tries to keep his promise, he really does. When he knocks on Lisa's door, he just can't go through with it. What follows is something Dean didn't expect. Based on the year between Dean first showing up at Lisa's right after Swan Song to him returning later on.
“I know the life that I live…”
Of all the ways that Dean Winchester had died he had never drowned. Not once, not even in the fucked up Mystery Spot with the Trickster.
“I know how that’s gonna end for me, whatever…”
This must be what it feels like he thought. The band tightened around his chest, forcing the air out; squeezing tighter so he is unable to bring more in. The grief rising up from his stomach and choking him; filling his throat and mouth.
Dean hit his knees collapsing onto the ground beside where the gaping pit had swallowed his brother minutes before. There he stayed for minutes…hours…weeks…who knew…until finally Castiel came. He lifted Dean from the ground and healed his wounds. Dean was so gone with grief it never even occurred to ask how Castiel was there after he had been blown to bits (again). Nothing penetrated the haze of grief wrapped around him and pressing in threatening to crush him. There was nothing but Sammy. Just Sammy and his promise…
“Go find Lisa and live some normal apple pie life…” “Don’t try to bring me back…” “Promise me, Dean…”
So he left with the bubble of grief still around him. He drove. He had no idea how long he drove or how ended up in front of Lisa’s house, but there he was. Dean climbed out of the car and drug himself to the front door. Before he could even raise a hand to knock, she was there. She reached out and touched his face and looked into his eyes and she knew. Without a word, she knew. Then she was holding him, and the bubble of grief that had been suffocating him broke and everything came down.
“I’m OK with that but I wanted you to know that when I did picture myself happy it’s with you…”
When it was over she led him inside to the kitchen table, sat him down and fixed him a sandwich. He couldn’t have told you what it was even while he ate it. He looked around the kitchen. It screamed of everything normal. A few random dishes sat on the counter. There was a stack of mail on the table. Apples and oranges sat in a bowl beside a stack of Ben’s books on the counter between the kitchen and living room. It was claustrophobic. As Dean sat there looking around the peaceful, normal kitchen he knew he couldn’t keep his promise to Sam. Just like every other promise he had ever made him, he would have to break this one too. Couldn’t keep him safe, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t keep him from becoming a monster, and couldn’t walk away.
Dean didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until Lisa smacked him across the face.
“I can’t Lisa, I just can’t stay here. It’s too much.”
And he left.
DAY 43
Indiana. Just a plain old ghost. Dean had found the bones, salted and burned them and then no more ghost. Dean had not stopped since he left Lisa. Constantly moving, going anywhere; chasing hunt after hunt. In just over a month he had dispatched four ghosts, two demons, and a particularly nasty witch. He started the search for a new job before he had even finished the one before. He only stopped to sleep when exhaustion claimed him. He did anything and everything to try and outrun his own ghost.
It was there in small town USA that Dean first saw him. There he was just walking down the street. Apparently Dean had not outrun his ghost because Sam was walking down the damn street and WHAT THE HELL. He had to be going out of his mind there was no other explanation because that could NOT be Sam. Only could it? It’s not like neither one of them had escaped from hell before. Or been brought back to life.
It was like being beside the whole again. All the air was sucked out of his lungs and it took every ounce of will he had not to hit his knees. Dean’s entire body shook as he stood there watching Sam: his stupid, floppy hair hanging into his eyes and loping walk. Then Sam was walking away from him.
The thought that Sam might get away finally spurred Dean to move. As he darted across the street, traffic caught him. When he looked up Sam was gone. Gone again. Dean spent the next two days combing the town for any sign of Sam and he found nothing. Not one single clue that Sam had actually been there.
Dean spent the next week trying to figure out what he had seen. Every surface of the motel room was covered in research. Dean went through every possible scenario he could imagine. Was a demon possessing his brother’s body? Was it Lucifer free from the cage? Nothing in the area indicated any type of demonic activity.
He looked for signs of a shapeshifter. Since Dean has dispatched the ghost nothing was out of the ordinary in the surrounding three hundred miles.
Was it really Sam? Dean called every motel in one hundred miles checking for any alias Sam might have used. He tracked down every stolen vehicle, every stolen credit card and came up with nothing. Not the slightest hint that whoever he saw might have been Sam. He searched DMV records for a doppelganger. Every lead Dean chased led to nowhere.
He prayed to Castiel for days. Then he screamed and cursed him. Finally he cried and begged for the angel but the celestial phone remained silent.
Finally left with nothing else to search out, Dean was forced to conclude he had imagined seeing him.
DAY 102
Dean had spent the last month and a half drunk. Some days a little less, some days a whole lot more, but some stage of drunk the entire time. He had started out drinking in bars but soon he was too ragged for even his normal dives. Now he just sat in the motel room and drank. He only went out to buy more liquor. Then he would come back to the room and drink until he passed out. It was the only way he could sleep.
Hunting was part of a past life. When Dean was sober enough to think about it, he laughed at the irony. At least Sam had got part of his wish. Dean quit answering his phone around day twenty. It was never anyone but Bobby and he could not hide how drunk he was anymore so he just turned the phone off and let the battery die.
“What are you doing Dean?”
The sound ricocheted in the silence of the room. Dean looked up into the mirror and Sam was standing by the door.
“Sammy.”
“What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you with Lisa?”
“I couldn’t do it Sammy. I can’t do it. I can’t do this without you.”
“What are you doing to yourself?”
Dean ignored the question and continued on as if Sam had not spoken. “You know I saw you.” Dean met Sam’s eyes in the mirror then looked back down staring at the whiskey in his glass. “I saw you walking down the street. I was hanging on till then. But I just can’t do it anymore. I kept part of my promise though. I’m not hunting anymore.”
Dean looked back up and Sam was gone. Dean decided it was official: he was insane. “Well, guess its bottom’s up,” he thought.
Bobby showed up the next day.
Dean answered the knock on the door expecting the manager there to throw him out; his fake credit card had to be close to maxed out by now. But, when he opened the door and Bobby was standing on the other side Dean was pretty sure this was even worse than if the manager had been there to kick him out. Bobby was going to have his ass on a platter. Served with a side of idjit. And a heaping bowl of ass whooping.
Bobby pushed past him into the motel room and stopped dead two steps inside the door. The room was beyond filthy. True, Dean had never been neat freak but he had always been clean. Bobby was actually a little afraid to go any farther in the room. Empty beer and liquor bottles had spilled off of every surface and littered the floor. Dean had apparently stopped trying to put the take out food wrappers in the trash several weeks ago and they were tossed about mixed with dirty laundry. The room reeked of moldy food, and alcohol and stale cigarettes.
Bobby turned and actually looked at Dean. His clothes were rumpled like they had been slept in several times and he had not shaved in at least several weeks. His hair was greasy and smashed to his head where he had passed out last night across the bed.
He stepped on into the room, and Dean shut the door and turned to look at him.
Bobby just stared at him, until finally Dean hung his head in shame.
“How long you been drunk, boy?” Dean answered with a shrug.
“When’s the last time you ate anything?” Another shrug from Dean in response.
“Damn it boy, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Dean just shrugged his answer again and gave Bobby a look that clearly said, “You damn well know what’s wrong with me.”
With a deep sigh, Bobby finally asked, “Don’t you think maybe it’s time we bury Sam?”
With a look that brooked no discussion Dean glared at Bobby. “No. Not yet.”
The two men stared each other down. Finally Bobby broke, “I want you to come with me.”
Dean responded with, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Again they stared each other down. Dean broke first this time. “I just can’t Bobby.” The pain etched across his face was almost enough to break Bobby.
“Well, I’m not leaving you here like this. How long has it been since you’ve even had a shower boy?” Dean’s answer was a noncommittal shrug. “Boy, I live in a junkyard and this place is making me nauseous. Go wash your stinkin’ ass and I’ll throw some of this trash out. Then we’ll go get something to eat.”
Dean started to open is mouth, but Bobby cut him off with, “And yes I’m throwing out the rest of the alcohol too. You’ve drank enough to do you for the rest of your life. And don’t you argue with me. Now GO.”
Dean dropped his head down then headed towards the bathroom. He stopped after a few steps and looked around the room. Spotting his duffle he went over and after rummaging around the assorted knives and supplies he finally came up with a clean pair of boxers. He looked down at the filthy clothes he was wearing then scanned the room for something slightly cleaner to put on.
Bobby watched him and shaking his head said, “I’ve got some jeans and a shirt you can wear till we wash your clothes. Just go get in the shower and I will bring ‘em in in a minute.”
Dean dropped his head again and finally made it into the bathroom. When Dean shut the door behind himself, Bobby dropped the bravado he had been clinging to since he saw the condition Dean was in.
Swiping his hand down his face, he took a deep breathe to steal himself for getting Dean cleaned up and sober. God, how the hell had he not realized it was going to be this bad? The whole drive up from South Dakota he had been afraid of what he would find. But this was somehow worse than the bloody mangled corpses he had imagined. Taking another deep breath he turned and went out to his truck to grab his duffle and get Dean some clean clothes.
Coming back in he set them on the counter in the bathroom and went to work sorting through the trash in motel room.
When Dean shut himself into the bathroom, he collapsed against the door for a minute letting his head fall back. How did Bobby always know how to handle him? One look and it was more than all his father’s yelling had ever done to keep him in line.
Dean lifted his head and looked into the mirror and he barely recognized himself. The alcohol induced haze had begun to fade and Dean knew the hangover from his bender was going to be monumental. He pushed himself off the door and turned the shower on before peeling the clothes off and throwing them in a pile on the floor.
Stepping into the shower, Dean just stood under the scalding spray letting the grime and sweat wash down the drain. He still hadn’t moved when he heard Bobby open the door to place the clean clothes on the sink.
Standing there he thought back to all the times Sam had done that very thing. When they were kids and Dean had made him; after a hunt when he would push Dean into the shower first. The memories flashed and flickered behind Dean’s eyes until they slowly morphed to other memories of Sammy. The night of the fire; Sam’s first scraped knee; his first hunt; the first time he and Dad had fought…a lifetime of memories one after another faster and faster until finally that huge empty whole then even that was gone.
The freezing water finally pulled Dean from his thoughts. When he reached up to wipe the water from his face he realized that there were tears mixed in. He quickly soaped up a washcloth and got himself clean and swiped it cross his head to clean his hair. He stepped out of the shower and to the sink. He toweled off and wrapped the towel around his hips. Looking in the mirror his eyes were red and swollen but then again they had actually looked like before so he did not think Bobby would notice.
He ran a sink of water to shave with and after about ten minutes he had tamed the mass of hair on his face. He drained the sink and throwing the towel across the edge of the tub put on the clothes lying by the sink. The jeans were a little short and a size too big and the shirt was tight across the shoulders but they were clean. One last look in the mirror, and he opened the bathroom door to face the music.
Bobby’s intervention had sobered Dean up. But the reason he stayed sober was Sam. Dean realized shortly after Bobby had left that, except for the once, he only saw Sam when he was sober.
Dean had intended to start drinking again as soon as Booby’s tail lights were out of view. Then he remembered Bobby had thrown all the alcohol out, so he had to make a trip to the liquor store. He’d grabbed his wallet and started to the Impala when he saw Sam walking into a trashy diner across the street.
Dean had immediately followed him. When he got inside there was no sign of Sam. The place was empty except for the waitress behind the counter and a cook Dean could see in the kitchen through the service window. Dean went to the restroom and found no trace of him, so he came back out and perched in a window booth where he had a view of the door and anyone trying to come around from the back of the building.
“Whatcha want sweetheart?” the waitress asked. She was a pretty brunette: petite, with big doe eyes and bigger breasts. Another time, before, Dean would have taken her up on the offer in her tone.
“I’m just waiting for someone,” Dean responded while scanning the dining room and parking lot searching for any sign of Sam.
The waitress leaned down closer to Dean giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage and purred, “I’m sorry darlin’ but the boss said we can’t let folks sit without ordering. He says it’s bad for business. If it was up to me you could sit here all night or at least ‘til my shift was over.” The last was said with a suggestive look.
Dean barely glanced in her direction. “Fine, I’ll take a cheeseburger, fries and Coke.”
Deciding he was ‘batting for the other team’ the waitress wrote his order down and went to fetch his drink. Dean continued to watch for any sign of Sam convinced he was not hallucinating this time.
When the waitress returned with his food, he thanked her then asked, “Hey, by any chance you didn’t see a guy come in here right before me did you? Tall, floppy brown hair?”
“Why are all the cute ones gay?” she thought. “Nope darling, I sure didn’t and I was standing behind the counter till you came in so there’s no way I could have missed anyone.” At the brokenhearted look that flashed across his face she tacked on an “I’m sorry” at the end.
“Yeah, thanks anyway.” Dean knew he had seen Sam walk in this damn diner. The thought that he might really be going crazy was enough to make him loose his appetite. But the food was already in front of him so he ate mostly because he knew he needed to.
Just as he finished off the last of his fries a scream pierced through small diner. Dean jumped up from his booth and headed to the kitchen. He stood to the side of the swinging doors and peered through the small window as he drew the pistol from the back of his jeans.
The cook was holding the waitress by the throat, her feet dangling off the ground. As he turned with her Dean caught a glimpse of his solid black eyes. Dean tucked the gun back into his jeans and reached down to where he had Ruby’s knife strapped to his leg. Dean watched until the demon’s back was turned to him then burst through the door and buried the knife in his back. Electricity appeared to run through the man’s body as the demon died then both them hit the floor.
Dean pulled the knife back and wiped it clean on the cook’s shirt. Then he rolled the guy off and checked the waitress. She was unconscious but still had a pulse. Leaving her to wake up on her own, Dean slipped out of the diner and headed back to his motel room.
With a dead body and a witness who could describe him, Dean decided it was time to clear out of Indiana. He through his stuff into his duffle and headed to the Impala. After he was headed south out of town, Dean finally let himself think about what happened in the diner.
I’m not crazy. I. Am. NOT. Crazy. That was Sammy. I had no intention of heading into that diner and HE led me there. He’s the reason I was there to kill that demon.
“Sam? Sammy?!? Can you hear me? Are you here?” Dean asked aloud. Silence was the response.
“Could he be a ghost? Hell what were the fucking rules for jumping into hell? Did you die? Was Sam dead? Or was his whole body still intact in the pit? Was he dead? Had hell spit the body out somewhere? Could something be walking around in his body? Was that what I had been seeing?”
“FUCK!!!!!” Dean cursed aloud.
“Ok…Ok…No, stop and think. This is a case. Like any other case. Take Sammy out of it. Ok, it could not have been a physical body that walked into the diner because the waitress hadn’t seen anything. So that rules out possession. So, it had to have been some type of spirit I saw. Maybe a ghost…maybe something else. But apparently I am the only one that can see him. And every time he’s shown up I’ve needed to safe someone. First the ghost (although he was a little late on that one), the waitress just now, and before it had been to save me…
Making the decision, Dean said aloud just in case Sam was listening, “Fine have it your way Sammy, tell me where to go.”
DAY 178
And so it went. Dean drove from town to town crisscrossing the country. When Sam appeared, Dean simply followed and without fail something supernatural was around.
In Flagstaff, Arizona it changed. Dean was walking down a side street searching for a bar he could hustle some pool in to get a little extra cash. He scanned the other side of the street and when he looked back Sam was walking down the street ahead of him. He turned a cut down an alley and Dean followed, pulling the gun from the small of his back.
Dean kept walking down the alley. Sam disappeared on the other side of a dumpster and when Dean came around it Sam was gone. He stopped to listen and heard a scuffle at the end of alley.
He took off towards the sound, and rounded the corner gun drawn. And thank God for a lifetime of training because the only thing there was a boy who looked to be maybe ten years old. The look of shear terror on his face, his mouth open in a silent scream was enough to have Dean lowering his gun. Nothing could fake that level of fear.
“I’m sorry kid. I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you, Ok? I thought you were in trouble. Is everything alright?” Dean asked as he surveyed the alley. Nothing appeared out of place. It looked like any alley in a medium sized city. Dumpsters were set every so often with trash piled around them. Random pieces of junk were strewn around. A few sturdy boxes had been fitted together to make a homeless guy a three room mansion.
The kid could barely nod in response to Dean’s questions.
“Ok, have you seen anything weird while you were down here?”
The kid shook his head from side to side.
“Ok, kid. Why don’t you go ahead on home anyways Ok?” Dean said.
With one last terrified look towards Dean’s gun the kid took off running down the alley. Dean spent the next three hours searching every corner of the alley to try and find something out place and came up empty. He went back to his room and searched for days trying to find a lead to anything that might be supernatural. Everything appeared normal. No odd disappearances or deaths. No animal maulings. Absolutely nothing.
After a week, Dean was left with two choices. Either he hadn’t seen Sam this time, or every other time he had seen him had merely been a coincidence. Dean quickly eliminated option one. There is no way is mistook something else for Sam. I followed him for two blocks. That was definitely Sam’s whatever.
That only left option two. Somehow seeing Sam randomly was enough to freak Dean out when Sam leading him to hunts hadn’t been. The thought was enough for Dean to decide he had had enough of Flagstaff. He packed his duffle turned in the room key and drove east. He had inadvertently avoided Bobby’s for months, now it made the conscious decision. One look at Dean the man would know something was off.
Two states and fourteen hours later, Dean stopped. Pulling into a dive motel parking lot parked the Impala and headed to the desk to check in. Ten minutes later he was sprawled across one of the Queen sized beds.
The next afternoon when Dean woke up, he pulled out the laptop. During the drive he had finally decided he was on his own. He had just wanted to believe Sam was still there with him; hunting with him. Regardless of whatever it was he was seeing it was. NOT. Sam. So Dean started the search for his next hunt.
DAY 365
However, Dean deciding something concerning ghost Sam was every bit as effective as when he had decided something for real Sam. It was a complete waste of time.
Sam had kept appearing. The more Dean ignored him the more he saw him. Sam had started appearing almost every day. If Dean had thought he was going crazy before he knew he was now. And he was at the end of rope.
Dean talked to Bobby every few days. Knew if he didn’t the man would hunt him down. But he had avoided South Dakota like the plague. He could fool Bobby he was fine for a few minutes on the phone, but he knew the minute Bobby laid eyes on him the farce of normal Dean was clinging too would b over.
Now he had no choice. He couldn’t take it anymore. So Dean pulled the Impala into the junkyard and killed the engine. Bobby was on his porch before Dean could get out of the car.
“Hey Bobby, how’s it going?” Dean called as the man came down the steps to greet him. When Bobby reached him he pulled him into a hug.
“Don’t you ‘hey how’s it going’ me boy. What’s wrong?” Bobby asked, pulling back to look Dean in the eyes.
“Why’s something got to be wrong?” Dean asked trying to play it off.
“Boy, you are so full of shit you don’t know which end to put on the toilet. You think I don’t know you been avoiding me? I ain’t stupid and you look almost as bad as the last time I saw you. You been drinking again?”
“No sir.”
“Then what is it? Out with it son.”
“I’ve been seeing things...hearing things.”
“What kinda ‘things’?” Bobby asked.
“Sam.”
“How long?” Bobby asked, voice breaking.
“Bobby…” Dean pleaded.
“HOW LONG?” he yelled.
Dean dropped his eyes to the ground, “One year,” he answered almost in a whisper.
“Damn it, Dean.”
Dean looked back and up and searched Bobby’s face, begging him to understand. “He’s my brother.”
Bobby pulled him back in for another hug and the last thread Dean had been clinging to had snapped. After they had both gotten themselves under control. Bobby led him into the house. Sitting at the kitchen table Dean finally told Bobby about the last year. Seeing Sam, following him to hunts, then the last six months of being stalked by his (dead?) brother’s ghost (?) or whatever.
“And now I’m here because I have no idea what to do. I can’t take it anymore Bobby. If I’m not already crazy this is going to send me over the edge.”
“Damn it son, why’d you wait so long to tell me.”
“I don’t know a bunch of reasons, no real reason. Afraid you’d get rid of him; afraid you couldn’t; afraid I was just bat shit crazy. Do you even know what it is?”
“Not the slightest idea about what it is. I’m afraid the information on live people jumping into hell is a little scarce.” At Dean’s look, Bobby responded, “What you think I haven’t spent this whole time trying to figure out what happened to the boy and how to get him back? Do you have freaking brain damage? Do we need to get your head scanned?”
Dean glared in response.
“Fine. Ok, has anyone else been able to see him?”
“Not that I am aware of. I’ve asked a few times and no one admitted to seeing him. But I also haven’t seen him do anything ‘ghost-y’ like go through walls. And he always looks like he is walking on the ground not floating. And he looks solid, real”
“I got nothing. He doesn’t sound like a ghost, but I have no idea what it could be.” After pausing for a moment to think he asked, “Have you tried Castiel?”
“Not since the before the last time I saw you. He didn’t answer.”
“Well, I think we should try him again. Maybe he knows something about what actually happened when Sam jumped.”
So Dean prayed. The soft flutter alerted Dean to Castiel’s presence.
“Hello Dean.”
“Hello Dean? It’s been a year. A year; without a single flutter from you. I begged and screamed for you for DAYS and got nothing. And now it’s hi, how are you? What the fuck man?”
“I am very sorry Dean. I would have come to you then if I had been able to but, things are very…disorganized in Heaven now. I have been occupied with more than you can possibly imagine.”
Dean opened his mouth to yell at the angel some more, but Bobby cut him off. “I think what Dean is trying to say is that we need your help now. Do you know anything about what has been going on?”
Castiel leveled his gaze on Dean, tilted his head to the side and said, “I am sorry. I do not understand what you are referring to.”
Bobby gave the angel an abbreviated version of the last year. As he told the story the normal look of slight confusion gave way to complete bewilderment.
When Bobby finished, Castiel responded with, “I am sorry Dean, Bobby. I do not know what this could be.”
“Can you at least tell me what happened to Sam? After…” Dean asked finally able to get a word in edgewise around Bobby.
“I am sorry Dean. I do not know. Before our brothers jumped into the whole I do not know of any physical beings which have ever entered into hell, much less into the cage. I do not have any idea what would have happened to the physical bodies, or even to their souls.”
Dean stared at Castiel for a long moment before he turned to Bobby and said, “I need to talk to Cas alone for a few minutes.”
Bobby gave him a look that said he didn’t really trust him, grunted an affirmative response anyways.
With that Castiel touched Dean’s arm and they both flickered to just outside Bobby’s panic room. “Is this really necessary? Isn’t there some way to know what happened? And what the hell I’ve been seeing?”
Instead of answer, Castiel touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. When Dean jerked back, Castiel simply lowered his arm.
“You know that’s not him, not really. Your brain does not appear out of order, so whatever you have been seeing is some type a manifestation but it is not Sam.”
“Thanks Cas,” was all Dean replied with staring at a spot on the floor just to the left of his boot.
“I am sorry, but I must return to Heaven now. I have been away too long as it is. I am sorry I could not tell you more about what happened to Sam.”
Dean nodded in response and Castiel disappeared in a rustle of feathers.
Standing down there, staring at the spot on the floor Dean prayed to God for the first time in years, “Please God, please. I need Sammy.” He didn’t know what he expected to happen but the nothing he received in answered surprised him even though it shouldn’t.
Finally Dean turned and went back up to Bobby’s kitchen. He hadn’t realized he had made a decision until he spoke.
“I can’t do this anymore Bobby. I gotta get out.”
“Where are you gonna go? You know you could stay here.”
“Thanks Bobby. I appreciate it but me staying here isn’t out. I know the place I need to go.”
Dean knocked on Lisa’s door the next evening. She was not quite quick enough to hide the look of shock on her face.
“Ah, if it’s not too late…?” Dean asked. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in.
Hours later when Dean set down to dinner with Lisa and Ben he was so focused on being there on not doing anything else that he never noticed the street light flicker or Sam watching through the window.
That night Dean dreamed of the first time Sam had died. Of sitting in the room and of Sam laid out on the bed.
I know the life that I live…I know how that’s gonna end for me, whatever, I’m Ok with that but I wanted you to know that when I did picture myself happy it’s with you.
Art Link: Here is the link to the video
Artist: wordplay__
Fic Title:Without You
Author:lethiaw77
Genre:Gen, AU post S5
Pairings:none really, Dean centric and if you see homoerotic subtext in the show you'll probably see it here too
Rating:PG-13 (angst, melodrama, and words your momma would wash your mouth out with soap for using)
Word Count:5,400
Summary:Dean tries to keep his promise, he really does. When he knocks on Lisa's door, he just can't go through with it. What follows is something Dean didn't expect. Based on the year between Dean first showing up at Lisa's right after Swan Song to him returning later on.
“I know the life that I live…”
Of all the ways that Dean Winchester had died he had never drowned. Not once, not even in the fucked up Mystery Spot with the Trickster.
“I know how that’s gonna end for me, whatever…”
This must be what it feels like he thought. The band tightened around his chest, forcing the air out; squeezing tighter so he is unable to bring more in. The grief rising up from his stomach and choking him; filling his throat and mouth.
Dean hit his knees collapsing onto the ground beside where the gaping pit had swallowed his brother minutes before. There he stayed for minutes…hours…weeks…who knew…until finally Castiel came. He lifted Dean from the ground and healed his wounds. Dean was so gone with grief it never even occurred to ask how Castiel was there after he had been blown to bits (again). Nothing penetrated the haze of grief wrapped around him and pressing in threatening to crush him. There was nothing but Sammy. Just Sammy and his promise…
“Go find Lisa and live some normal apple pie life…” “Don’t try to bring me back…” “Promise me, Dean…”
So he left with the bubble of grief still around him. He drove. He had no idea how long he drove or how ended up in front of Lisa’s house, but there he was. Dean climbed out of the car and drug himself to the front door. Before he could even raise a hand to knock, she was there. She reached out and touched his face and looked into his eyes and she knew. Without a word, she knew. Then she was holding him, and the bubble of grief that had been suffocating him broke and everything came down.
“I’m OK with that but I wanted you to know that when I did picture myself happy it’s with you…”
When it was over she led him inside to the kitchen table, sat him down and fixed him a sandwich. He couldn’t have told you what it was even while he ate it. He looked around the kitchen. It screamed of everything normal. A few random dishes sat on the counter. There was a stack of mail on the table. Apples and oranges sat in a bowl beside a stack of Ben’s books on the counter between the kitchen and living room. It was claustrophobic. As Dean sat there looking around the peaceful, normal kitchen he knew he couldn’t keep his promise to Sam. Just like every other promise he had ever made him, he would have to break this one too. Couldn’t keep him safe, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t keep him from becoming a monster, and couldn’t walk away.
Dean didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until Lisa smacked him across the face.
“I can’t Lisa, I just can’t stay here. It’s too much.”
And he left.
DAY 43
Indiana. Just a plain old ghost. Dean had found the bones, salted and burned them and then no more ghost. Dean had not stopped since he left Lisa. Constantly moving, going anywhere; chasing hunt after hunt. In just over a month he had dispatched four ghosts, two demons, and a particularly nasty witch. He started the search for a new job before he had even finished the one before. He only stopped to sleep when exhaustion claimed him. He did anything and everything to try and outrun his own ghost.
It was there in small town USA that Dean first saw him. There he was just walking down the street. Apparently Dean had not outrun his ghost because Sam was walking down the damn street and WHAT THE HELL. He had to be going out of his mind there was no other explanation because that could NOT be Sam. Only could it? It’s not like neither one of them had escaped from hell before. Or been brought back to life.
It was like being beside the whole again. All the air was sucked out of his lungs and it took every ounce of will he had not to hit his knees. Dean’s entire body shook as he stood there watching Sam: his stupid, floppy hair hanging into his eyes and loping walk. Then Sam was walking away from him.
The thought that Sam might get away finally spurred Dean to move. As he darted across the street, traffic caught him. When he looked up Sam was gone. Gone again. Dean spent the next two days combing the town for any sign of Sam and he found nothing. Not one single clue that Sam had actually been there.
Dean spent the next week trying to figure out what he had seen. Every surface of the motel room was covered in research. Dean went through every possible scenario he could imagine. Was a demon possessing his brother’s body? Was it Lucifer free from the cage? Nothing in the area indicated any type of demonic activity.
He looked for signs of a shapeshifter. Since Dean has dispatched the ghost nothing was out of the ordinary in the surrounding three hundred miles.
Was it really Sam? Dean called every motel in one hundred miles checking for any alias Sam might have used. He tracked down every stolen vehicle, every stolen credit card and came up with nothing. Not the slightest hint that whoever he saw might have been Sam. He searched DMV records for a doppelganger. Every lead Dean chased led to nowhere.
He prayed to Castiel for days. Then he screamed and cursed him. Finally he cried and begged for the angel but the celestial phone remained silent.
Finally left with nothing else to search out, Dean was forced to conclude he had imagined seeing him.
DAY 102
Dean had spent the last month and a half drunk. Some days a little less, some days a whole lot more, but some stage of drunk the entire time. He had started out drinking in bars but soon he was too ragged for even his normal dives. Now he just sat in the motel room and drank. He only went out to buy more liquor. Then he would come back to the room and drink until he passed out. It was the only way he could sleep.
Hunting was part of a past life. When Dean was sober enough to think about it, he laughed at the irony. At least Sam had got part of his wish. Dean quit answering his phone around day twenty. It was never anyone but Bobby and he could not hide how drunk he was anymore so he just turned the phone off and let the battery die.
“What are you doing Dean?”
The sound ricocheted in the silence of the room. Dean looked up into the mirror and Sam was standing by the door.
“Sammy.”
“What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you with Lisa?”
“I couldn’t do it Sammy. I can’t do it. I can’t do this without you.”
“What are you doing to yourself?”
Dean ignored the question and continued on as if Sam had not spoken. “You know I saw you.” Dean met Sam’s eyes in the mirror then looked back down staring at the whiskey in his glass. “I saw you walking down the street. I was hanging on till then. But I just can’t do it anymore. I kept part of my promise though. I’m not hunting anymore.”
Dean looked back up and Sam was gone. Dean decided it was official: he was insane. “Well, guess its bottom’s up,” he thought.
Bobby showed up the next day.
Dean answered the knock on the door expecting the manager there to throw him out; his fake credit card had to be close to maxed out by now. But, when he opened the door and Bobby was standing on the other side Dean was pretty sure this was even worse than if the manager had been there to kick him out. Bobby was going to have his ass on a platter. Served with a side of idjit. And a heaping bowl of ass whooping.
Bobby pushed past him into the motel room and stopped dead two steps inside the door. The room was beyond filthy. True, Dean had never been neat freak but he had always been clean. Bobby was actually a little afraid to go any farther in the room. Empty beer and liquor bottles had spilled off of every surface and littered the floor. Dean had apparently stopped trying to put the take out food wrappers in the trash several weeks ago and they were tossed about mixed with dirty laundry. The room reeked of moldy food, and alcohol and stale cigarettes.
Bobby turned and actually looked at Dean. His clothes were rumpled like they had been slept in several times and he had not shaved in at least several weeks. His hair was greasy and smashed to his head where he had passed out last night across the bed.
He stepped on into the room, and Dean shut the door and turned to look at him.
Bobby just stared at him, until finally Dean hung his head in shame.
“How long you been drunk, boy?” Dean answered with a shrug.
“When’s the last time you ate anything?” Another shrug from Dean in response.
“Damn it boy, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Dean just shrugged his answer again and gave Bobby a look that clearly said, “You damn well know what’s wrong with me.”
With a deep sigh, Bobby finally asked, “Don’t you think maybe it’s time we bury Sam?”
With a look that brooked no discussion Dean glared at Bobby. “No. Not yet.”
The two men stared each other down. Finally Bobby broke, “I want you to come with me.”
Dean responded with, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Again they stared each other down. Dean broke first this time. “I just can’t Bobby.” The pain etched across his face was almost enough to break Bobby.
“Well, I’m not leaving you here like this. How long has it been since you’ve even had a shower boy?” Dean’s answer was a noncommittal shrug. “Boy, I live in a junkyard and this place is making me nauseous. Go wash your stinkin’ ass and I’ll throw some of this trash out. Then we’ll go get something to eat.”
Dean started to open is mouth, but Bobby cut him off with, “And yes I’m throwing out the rest of the alcohol too. You’ve drank enough to do you for the rest of your life. And don’t you argue with me. Now GO.”
Dean dropped his head down then headed towards the bathroom. He stopped after a few steps and looked around the room. Spotting his duffle he went over and after rummaging around the assorted knives and supplies he finally came up with a clean pair of boxers. He looked down at the filthy clothes he was wearing then scanned the room for something slightly cleaner to put on.
Bobby watched him and shaking his head said, “I’ve got some jeans and a shirt you can wear till we wash your clothes. Just go get in the shower and I will bring ‘em in in a minute.”
Dean dropped his head again and finally made it into the bathroom. When Dean shut the door behind himself, Bobby dropped the bravado he had been clinging to since he saw the condition Dean was in.
Swiping his hand down his face, he took a deep breathe to steal himself for getting Dean cleaned up and sober. God, how the hell had he not realized it was going to be this bad? The whole drive up from South Dakota he had been afraid of what he would find. But this was somehow worse than the bloody mangled corpses he had imagined. Taking another deep breath he turned and went out to his truck to grab his duffle and get Dean some clean clothes.
Coming back in he set them on the counter in the bathroom and went to work sorting through the trash in motel room.
When Dean shut himself into the bathroom, he collapsed against the door for a minute letting his head fall back. How did Bobby always know how to handle him? One look and it was more than all his father’s yelling had ever done to keep him in line.
Dean lifted his head and looked into the mirror and he barely recognized himself. The alcohol induced haze had begun to fade and Dean knew the hangover from his bender was going to be monumental. He pushed himself off the door and turned the shower on before peeling the clothes off and throwing them in a pile on the floor.
Stepping into the shower, Dean just stood under the scalding spray letting the grime and sweat wash down the drain. He still hadn’t moved when he heard Bobby open the door to place the clean clothes on the sink.
Standing there he thought back to all the times Sam had done that very thing. When they were kids and Dean had made him; after a hunt when he would push Dean into the shower first. The memories flashed and flickered behind Dean’s eyes until they slowly morphed to other memories of Sammy. The night of the fire; Sam’s first scraped knee; his first hunt; the first time he and Dad had fought…a lifetime of memories one after another faster and faster until finally that huge empty whole then even that was gone.
The freezing water finally pulled Dean from his thoughts. When he reached up to wipe the water from his face he realized that there were tears mixed in. He quickly soaped up a washcloth and got himself clean and swiped it cross his head to clean his hair. He stepped out of the shower and to the sink. He toweled off and wrapped the towel around his hips. Looking in the mirror his eyes were red and swollen but then again they had actually looked like before so he did not think Bobby would notice.
He ran a sink of water to shave with and after about ten minutes he had tamed the mass of hair on his face. He drained the sink and throwing the towel across the edge of the tub put on the clothes lying by the sink. The jeans were a little short and a size too big and the shirt was tight across the shoulders but they were clean. One last look in the mirror, and he opened the bathroom door to face the music.
Bobby’s intervention had sobered Dean up. But the reason he stayed sober was Sam. Dean realized shortly after Bobby had left that, except for the once, he only saw Sam when he was sober.
Dean had intended to start drinking again as soon as Booby’s tail lights were out of view. Then he remembered Bobby had thrown all the alcohol out, so he had to make a trip to the liquor store. He’d grabbed his wallet and started to the Impala when he saw Sam walking into a trashy diner across the street.
Dean had immediately followed him. When he got inside there was no sign of Sam. The place was empty except for the waitress behind the counter and a cook Dean could see in the kitchen through the service window. Dean went to the restroom and found no trace of him, so he came back out and perched in a window booth where he had a view of the door and anyone trying to come around from the back of the building.
“Whatcha want sweetheart?” the waitress asked. She was a pretty brunette: petite, with big doe eyes and bigger breasts. Another time, before, Dean would have taken her up on the offer in her tone.
“I’m just waiting for someone,” Dean responded while scanning the dining room and parking lot searching for any sign of Sam.
The waitress leaned down closer to Dean giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage and purred, “I’m sorry darlin’ but the boss said we can’t let folks sit without ordering. He says it’s bad for business. If it was up to me you could sit here all night or at least ‘til my shift was over.” The last was said with a suggestive look.
Dean barely glanced in her direction. “Fine, I’ll take a cheeseburger, fries and Coke.”
Deciding he was ‘batting for the other team’ the waitress wrote his order down and went to fetch his drink. Dean continued to watch for any sign of Sam convinced he was not hallucinating this time.
When the waitress returned with his food, he thanked her then asked, “Hey, by any chance you didn’t see a guy come in here right before me did you? Tall, floppy brown hair?”
“Why are all the cute ones gay?” she thought. “Nope darling, I sure didn’t and I was standing behind the counter till you came in so there’s no way I could have missed anyone.” At the brokenhearted look that flashed across his face she tacked on an “I’m sorry” at the end.
“Yeah, thanks anyway.” Dean knew he had seen Sam walk in this damn diner. The thought that he might really be going crazy was enough to make him loose his appetite. But the food was already in front of him so he ate mostly because he knew he needed to.
Just as he finished off the last of his fries a scream pierced through small diner. Dean jumped up from his booth and headed to the kitchen. He stood to the side of the swinging doors and peered through the small window as he drew the pistol from the back of his jeans.
The cook was holding the waitress by the throat, her feet dangling off the ground. As he turned with her Dean caught a glimpse of his solid black eyes. Dean tucked the gun back into his jeans and reached down to where he had Ruby’s knife strapped to his leg. Dean watched until the demon’s back was turned to him then burst through the door and buried the knife in his back. Electricity appeared to run through the man’s body as the demon died then both them hit the floor.
Dean pulled the knife back and wiped it clean on the cook’s shirt. Then he rolled the guy off and checked the waitress. She was unconscious but still had a pulse. Leaving her to wake up on her own, Dean slipped out of the diner and headed back to his motel room.
With a dead body and a witness who could describe him, Dean decided it was time to clear out of Indiana. He through his stuff into his duffle and headed to the Impala. After he was headed south out of town, Dean finally let himself think about what happened in the diner.
I’m not crazy. I. Am. NOT. Crazy. That was Sammy. I had no intention of heading into that diner and HE led me there. He’s the reason I was there to kill that demon.
“Sam? Sammy?!? Can you hear me? Are you here?” Dean asked aloud. Silence was the response.
“Could he be a ghost? Hell what were the fucking rules for jumping into hell? Did you die? Was Sam dead? Or was his whole body still intact in the pit? Was he dead? Had hell spit the body out somewhere? Could something be walking around in his body? Was that what I had been seeing?”
“FUCK!!!!!” Dean cursed aloud.
“Ok…Ok…No, stop and think. This is a case. Like any other case. Take Sammy out of it. Ok, it could not have been a physical body that walked into the diner because the waitress hadn’t seen anything. So that rules out possession. So, it had to have been some type of spirit I saw. Maybe a ghost…maybe something else. But apparently I am the only one that can see him. And every time he’s shown up I’ve needed to safe someone. First the ghost (although he was a little late on that one), the waitress just now, and before it had been to save me…
Making the decision, Dean said aloud just in case Sam was listening, “Fine have it your way Sammy, tell me where to go.”
DAY 178
And so it went. Dean drove from town to town crisscrossing the country. When Sam appeared, Dean simply followed and without fail something supernatural was around.
In Flagstaff, Arizona it changed. Dean was walking down a side street searching for a bar he could hustle some pool in to get a little extra cash. He scanned the other side of the street and when he looked back Sam was walking down the street ahead of him. He turned a cut down an alley and Dean followed, pulling the gun from the small of his back.
Dean kept walking down the alley. Sam disappeared on the other side of a dumpster and when Dean came around it Sam was gone. He stopped to listen and heard a scuffle at the end of alley.
He took off towards the sound, and rounded the corner gun drawn. And thank God for a lifetime of training because the only thing there was a boy who looked to be maybe ten years old. The look of shear terror on his face, his mouth open in a silent scream was enough to have Dean lowering his gun. Nothing could fake that level of fear.
“I’m sorry kid. I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you, Ok? I thought you were in trouble. Is everything alright?” Dean asked as he surveyed the alley. Nothing appeared out of place. It looked like any alley in a medium sized city. Dumpsters were set every so often with trash piled around them. Random pieces of junk were strewn around. A few sturdy boxes had been fitted together to make a homeless guy a three room mansion.
The kid could barely nod in response to Dean’s questions.
“Ok, have you seen anything weird while you were down here?”
The kid shook his head from side to side.
“Ok, kid. Why don’t you go ahead on home anyways Ok?” Dean said.
With one last terrified look towards Dean’s gun the kid took off running down the alley. Dean spent the next three hours searching every corner of the alley to try and find something out place and came up empty. He went back to his room and searched for days trying to find a lead to anything that might be supernatural. Everything appeared normal. No odd disappearances or deaths. No animal maulings. Absolutely nothing.
After a week, Dean was left with two choices. Either he hadn’t seen Sam this time, or every other time he had seen him had merely been a coincidence. Dean quickly eliminated option one. There is no way is mistook something else for Sam. I followed him for two blocks. That was definitely Sam’s whatever.
That only left option two. Somehow seeing Sam randomly was enough to freak Dean out when Sam leading him to hunts hadn’t been. The thought was enough for Dean to decide he had had enough of Flagstaff. He packed his duffle turned in the room key and drove east. He had inadvertently avoided Bobby’s for months, now it made the conscious decision. One look at Dean the man would know something was off.
Two states and fourteen hours later, Dean stopped. Pulling into a dive motel parking lot parked the Impala and headed to the desk to check in. Ten minutes later he was sprawled across one of the Queen sized beds.
The next afternoon when Dean woke up, he pulled out the laptop. During the drive he had finally decided he was on his own. He had just wanted to believe Sam was still there with him; hunting with him. Regardless of whatever it was he was seeing it was. NOT. Sam. So Dean started the search for his next hunt.
DAY 365
However, Dean deciding something concerning ghost Sam was every bit as effective as when he had decided something for real Sam. It was a complete waste of time.
Sam had kept appearing. The more Dean ignored him the more he saw him. Sam had started appearing almost every day. If Dean had thought he was going crazy before he knew he was now. And he was at the end of rope.
Dean talked to Bobby every few days. Knew if he didn’t the man would hunt him down. But he had avoided South Dakota like the plague. He could fool Bobby he was fine for a few minutes on the phone, but he knew the minute Bobby laid eyes on him the farce of normal Dean was clinging too would b over.
Now he had no choice. He couldn’t take it anymore. So Dean pulled the Impala into the junkyard and killed the engine. Bobby was on his porch before Dean could get out of the car.
“Hey Bobby, how’s it going?” Dean called as the man came down the steps to greet him. When Bobby reached him he pulled him into a hug.
“Don’t you ‘hey how’s it going’ me boy. What’s wrong?” Bobby asked, pulling back to look Dean in the eyes.
“Why’s something got to be wrong?” Dean asked trying to play it off.
“Boy, you are so full of shit you don’t know which end to put on the toilet. You think I don’t know you been avoiding me? I ain’t stupid and you look almost as bad as the last time I saw you. You been drinking again?”
“No sir.”
“Then what is it? Out with it son.”
“I’ve been seeing things...hearing things.”
“What kinda ‘things’?” Bobby asked.
“Sam.”
“How long?” Bobby asked, voice breaking.
“Bobby…” Dean pleaded.
“HOW LONG?” he yelled.
Dean dropped his eyes to the ground, “One year,” he answered almost in a whisper.
“Damn it, Dean.”
Dean looked back and up and searched Bobby’s face, begging him to understand. “He’s my brother.”
Bobby pulled him back in for another hug and the last thread Dean had been clinging to had snapped. After they had both gotten themselves under control. Bobby led him into the house. Sitting at the kitchen table Dean finally told Bobby about the last year. Seeing Sam, following him to hunts, then the last six months of being stalked by his (dead?) brother’s ghost (?) or whatever.
“And now I’m here because I have no idea what to do. I can’t take it anymore Bobby. If I’m not already crazy this is going to send me over the edge.”
“Damn it son, why’d you wait so long to tell me.”
“I don’t know a bunch of reasons, no real reason. Afraid you’d get rid of him; afraid you couldn’t; afraid I was just bat shit crazy. Do you even know what it is?”
“Not the slightest idea about what it is. I’m afraid the information on live people jumping into hell is a little scarce.” At Dean’s look, Bobby responded, “What you think I haven’t spent this whole time trying to figure out what happened to the boy and how to get him back? Do you have freaking brain damage? Do we need to get your head scanned?”
Dean glared in response.
“Fine. Ok, has anyone else been able to see him?”
“Not that I am aware of. I’ve asked a few times and no one admitted to seeing him. But I also haven’t seen him do anything ‘ghost-y’ like go through walls. And he always looks like he is walking on the ground not floating. And he looks solid, real”
“I got nothing. He doesn’t sound like a ghost, but I have no idea what it could be.” After pausing for a moment to think he asked, “Have you tried Castiel?”
“Not since the before the last time I saw you. He didn’t answer.”
“Well, I think we should try him again. Maybe he knows something about what actually happened when Sam jumped.”
So Dean prayed. The soft flutter alerted Dean to Castiel’s presence.
“Hello Dean.”
“Hello Dean? It’s been a year. A year; without a single flutter from you. I begged and screamed for you for DAYS and got nothing. And now it’s hi, how are you? What the fuck man?”
“I am very sorry Dean. I would have come to you then if I had been able to but, things are very…disorganized in Heaven now. I have been occupied with more than you can possibly imagine.”
Dean opened his mouth to yell at the angel some more, but Bobby cut him off. “I think what Dean is trying to say is that we need your help now. Do you know anything about what has been going on?”
Castiel leveled his gaze on Dean, tilted his head to the side and said, “I am sorry. I do not understand what you are referring to.”
Bobby gave the angel an abbreviated version of the last year. As he told the story the normal look of slight confusion gave way to complete bewilderment.
When Bobby finished, Castiel responded with, “I am sorry Dean, Bobby. I do not know what this could be.”
“Can you at least tell me what happened to Sam? After…” Dean asked finally able to get a word in edgewise around Bobby.
“I am sorry Dean. I do not know. Before our brothers jumped into the whole I do not know of any physical beings which have ever entered into hell, much less into the cage. I do not have any idea what would have happened to the physical bodies, or even to their souls.”
Dean stared at Castiel for a long moment before he turned to Bobby and said, “I need to talk to Cas alone for a few minutes.”
Bobby gave him a look that said he didn’t really trust him, grunted an affirmative response anyways.
With that Castiel touched Dean’s arm and they both flickered to just outside Bobby’s panic room. “Is this really necessary? Isn’t there some way to know what happened? And what the hell I’ve been seeing?”
Instead of answer, Castiel touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. When Dean jerked back, Castiel simply lowered his arm.
“You know that’s not him, not really. Your brain does not appear out of order, so whatever you have been seeing is some type a manifestation but it is not Sam.”
“Thanks Cas,” was all Dean replied with staring at a spot on the floor just to the left of his boot.
“I am sorry, but I must return to Heaven now. I have been away too long as it is. I am sorry I could not tell you more about what happened to Sam.”
Dean nodded in response and Castiel disappeared in a rustle of feathers.
Standing down there, staring at the spot on the floor Dean prayed to God for the first time in years, “Please God, please. I need Sammy.” He didn’t know what he expected to happen but the nothing he received in answered surprised him even though it shouldn’t.
Finally Dean turned and went back up to Bobby’s kitchen. He hadn’t realized he had made a decision until he spoke.
“I can’t do this anymore Bobby. I gotta get out.”
“Where are you gonna go? You know you could stay here.”
“Thanks Bobby. I appreciate it but me staying here isn’t out. I know the place I need to go.”
Dean knocked on Lisa’s door the next evening. She was not quite quick enough to hide the look of shock on her face.
“Ah, if it’s not too late…?” Dean asked. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in.
Hours later when Dean set down to dinner with Lisa and Ben he was so focused on being there on not doing anything else that he never noticed the street light flicker or Sam watching through the window.
That night Dean dreamed of the first time Sam had died. Of sitting in the room and of Sam laid out on the bed.
I know the life that I live…I know how that’s gonna end for me, whatever, I’m Ok with that but I wanted you to know that when I did picture myself happy it’s with you.