Family, for LadySalamander
Title: Family
Recipient: LadySalamander
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,364
Warnings: none
Summary: What if Dean and Bobby weren't the only ones Sam talked to before entering the cabin in 9.01 to find Death waiting for him?
A/N: Written for spn_summergen for the prompt, "Sam, like grown-up-has-been-through-all-this-shit Sam, gets to have a no holds barred conversation with his mom." Thanks to dugindeep for the brainstorming and the beta reading, and to the mods for their patience.
Sam turned towards the cabin, still feeling the rough prickle of Dean's stubble under his hand. If he was hallucinating all of this, if it was in his head the same way his three separate selves had been, he was pretty good at details. The hurt and confusion in Dean's eyes when Sam told him he didn't have anything left to fight for were vivid and real enough to make Sam hurt, too. And he knew that out there in the real world, Dean would be hurting if he knew the decision Sam was contemplating.
But there was no way Sam could make that decision unless it was on his own. If Dean was here, even in hallucinatory form, Sam was afraid he would do what his big brother wanted. He would fight to stay alive, he would walk away from the light, he would accept whatever crazy bargain Dean had struck rather than tell him no.
Even if the cost was too high.
Trudging towards the cabin, Sam suddenly froze. There was a woman standing in front of him where no one had been a moment ago, in a flowing white gown with long blond hair trailing down her back. Sam had only seen her a couple of times, but there was no way he could forget her face. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Mom?"
Mary Winchester smiled at him, that same sad smile he remembered from their old house in Kansas, when she'd delivered an apology that he had no way to comprehend. "Sam," she said quietly. "It's good to see you."
He stared at her. "You're not really here." He gestured at the tall trees around them. "We're not really here."
"There's a reason you talked to Dean earlier, and a reason you talked to Bobby." She folded her arms over her chest. "And a reason you need to talk to me."
"What, are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Sam scoffed.
She gave him a reproachful look. "I'm your mother."
Sam's responding smile was more like a wince. "I'm sorry, but I don't really know what that means."
Mary frowned. "It means that your decision is not just about whether you want to hold on and fight or whether you think you've earned your rest. It's also about the ones you're leaving behind. Thinking of others as well as yourself."
Sam held up a hand. "If Dean is doing something crazy right now to try and bring me back, I don't want to know about it."
"I never meant for this to happen," she said. When Sam frowned in puzzlement, she went on, "I couldn't live without John. I couldn't. But I didn't know everything that was going to follow from that."
"Would you do it again?" Sam asked, hearing the tightness in his voice. "If you had the choice? If you could go back to when Azazel killed him, would you still do it?"
Mary gave him a sad smile. "You don't know how many times I've thought about that," she said. "Every day after it happened, for a while. Every day after I found out I was pregnant, and again when the ten years were nearly up. I have asked myself that question so many times, Sam."
He huffed out a breath. "So what's the answer?"
Her head tilted to the side. "Knowing what I know now, watching how it all played out, I know that it doesn't matter. I've seen the strings that were pulled, Sam, all of my life and all of your father's life. You've seen that, too."
He remembered watching in imprisoned horror as Lucifer showed him just how closely monitored and manipulated he had been all of his life, and he shivered. "You saw all that?"
"What you were shown, when Zachariah brought the two of you to Heaven-that wasn't real. It was more of his machinations, and it almost worked. It came so close to working." She stepped closer and put a hand to his face, fingers combing gently through his hair. "I saw it all, Sam. I saw what you did, you and Dean, and I am so proud of you both."
Sam closed his eyes and let himself feel her touch. "I don't want to leave him," he whispered.
"Oh, honey. I know you don't." When Sam opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but understanding and love in his mother's eyes. "But you've learned what no one else in this family ever did. That sometimes, it's not worth it. As hard as it is to go on alone, doing anything else can cost too much. And that doesn't mean you don't love your family more than your own life. It doesn't mean you're a bad person."
He looked at her, at the mother he never knew, the one who first made a deal with a demon that started the Winchesters down the road to each making a demon deal in their own, special, fucked-up way. "You never had a choice," he murmured. "Like you said. You were manipulated and conned and lied to your whole life. You never had a choice."
"Neither did you," she said with a knowing look. "And yet you made a choice."
"I was still his vessel," Sam replied, his voice cracking on the last word.
"But you chose to do that on your own terms," Mary reminded him. "For your purposes. Not theirs. You were as strong as anyone has ever been, Sam. But you were paying the price for what you tried to do to bring Dean back, what you tried to do to get revenge. You learned the hardest way possible that sometimes you just have to let go."
"And Dean hates me for it." Sam flung his arms out from his sides. "Because I didn't look for him when he vanished in Roman's lab. Because I tried to move on with my life the way he told me to. He doesn't understand. Even when it was his stupid deal that started all this in the first place."
"It was my stupid deal, if you want to get picky." Mary raised her eyebrows. "And he doesn't hate you for it. He just doesn't understand."
Sam shrugged. "Which means this is all moot, right? Whatever I decide to do here? Dean won't let me go if he has anything to say about it."
"Do you want him to?"
Sam looked down at the forest floor beneath his feet, replaying the conversation he'd just had with his not-brother. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I guess that's the question."
"You can ask Him, you know. For it to be permanent."
He looked at her sharply. "What?"
"You don't remember the other times you've died, do you?" Cocking her head to the side, Mary went on, "You're very special, Sam. The boy who caged Lucifer isn't going to be met by any old reaper. If you've made your decision, and you want it to stick, He can do that."
"You're making that up," Sam accused. He waved a hand around. "I'm making that up. You couldn't know that."
Mary gave him an enigmatic smile. "You've talked to the part of yourself that wants to fight, and the part that wants to rest. And now, the part of you that knows it isn't just about you. So the question remains, Sam, what are you going to do?"
He looked past her, towards the cabin where he could feel someone waiting for him. "I'm going to make a choice," he said slowly. He gave Mary a sideways glance. "Most people don't get to do this, do they? Two roads diverging in a wood and all that?"
"I told you you're special," she smiled. Then she patted his cheek, the same way he'd done to Dean a moment ago. "I know you'll make the right choice, Sam. I know you appreciate the value of having that choice."
"I do." He smiled at her, suddenly feeling lighter. "Thank you, Mom." He wrapped her up in an embrace, breathing in light floral perfume, feeling her arms come around him in response.
Then Sam set off for the cabin and the appointment that awaited him there.
Recipient: LadySalamander
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,364
Warnings: none
Summary: What if Dean and Bobby weren't the only ones Sam talked to before entering the cabin in 9.01 to find Death waiting for him?
A/N: Written for spn_summergen for the prompt, "Sam, like grown-up-has-been-through-all-this-shit Sam, gets to have a no holds barred conversation with his mom." Thanks to dugindeep for the brainstorming and the beta reading, and to the mods for their patience.
Sam turned towards the cabin, still feeling the rough prickle of Dean's stubble under his hand. If he was hallucinating all of this, if it was in his head the same way his three separate selves had been, he was pretty good at details. The hurt and confusion in Dean's eyes when Sam told him he didn't have anything left to fight for were vivid and real enough to make Sam hurt, too. And he knew that out there in the real world, Dean would be hurting if he knew the decision Sam was contemplating.
But there was no way Sam could make that decision unless it was on his own. If Dean was here, even in hallucinatory form, Sam was afraid he would do what his big brother wanted. He would fight to stay alive, he would walk away from the light, he would accept whatever crazy bargain Dean had struck rather than tell him no.
Even if the cost was too high.
Trudging towards the cabin, Sam suddenly froze. There was a woman standing in front of him where no one had been a moment ago, in a flowing white gown with long blond hair trailing down her back. Sam had only seen her a couple of times, but there was no way he could forget her face. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Mom?"
Mary Winchester smiled at him, that same sad smile he remembered from their old house in Kansas, when she'd delivered an apology that he had no way to comprehend. "Sam," she said quietly. "It's good to see you."
He stared at her. "You're not really here." He gestured at the tall trees around them. "We're not really here."
"There's a reason you talked to Dean earlier, and a reason you talked to Bobby." She folded her arms over her chest. "And a reason you need to talk to me."
"What, are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Sam scoffed.
She gave him a reproachful look. "I'm your mother."
Sam's responding smile was more like a wince. "I'm sorry, but I don't really know what that means."
Mary frowned. "It means that your decision is not just about whether you want to hold on and fight or whether you think you've earned your rest. It's also about the ones you're leaving behind. Thinking of others as well as yourself."
Sam held up a hand. "If Dean is doing something crazy right now to try and bring me back, I don't want to know about it."
"I never meant for this to happen," she said. When Sam frowned in puzzlement, she went on, "I couldn't live without John. I couldn't. But I didn't know everything that was going to follow from that."
"Would you do it again?" Sam asked, hearing the tightness in his voice. "If you had the choice? If you could go back to when Azazel killed him, would you still do it?"
Mary gave him a sad smile. "You don't know how many times I've thought about that," she said. "Every day after it happened, for a while. Every day after I found out I was pregnant, and again when the ten years were nearly up. I have asked myself that question so many times, Sam."
He huffed out a breath. "So what's the answer?"
Her head tilted to the side. "Knowing what I know now, watching how it all played out, I know that it doesn't matter. I've seen the strings that were pulled, Sam, all of my life and all of your father's life. You've seen that, too."
He remembered watching in imprisoned horror as Lucifer showed him just how closely monitored and manipulated he had been all of his life, and he shivered. "You saw all that?"
"What you were shown, when Zachariah brought the two of you to Heaven-that wasn't real. It was more of his machinations, and it almost worked. It came so close to working." She stepped closer and put a hand to his face, fingers combing gently through his hair. "I saw it all, Sam. I saw what you did, you and Dean, and I am so proud of you both."
Sam closed his eyes and let himself feel her touch. "I don't want to leave him," he whispered.
"Oh, honey. I know you don't." When Sam opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but understanding and love in his mother's eyes. "But you've learned what no one else in this family ever did. That sometimes, it's not worth it. As hard as it is to go on alone, doing anything else can cost too much. And that doesn't mean you don't love your family more than your own life. It doesn't mean you're a bad person."
He looked at her, at the mother he never knew, the one who first made a deal with a demon that started the Winchesters down the road to each making a demon deal in their own, special, fucked-up way. "You never had a choice," he murmured. "Like you said. You were manipulated and conned and lied to your whole life. You never had a choice."
"Neither did you," she said with a knowing look. "And yet you made a choice."
"I was still his vessel," Sam replied, his voice cracking on the last word.
"But you chose to do that on your own terms," Mary reminded him. "For your purposes. Not theirs. You were as strong as anyone has ever been, Sam. But you were paying the price for what you tried to do to bring Dean back, what you tried to do to get revenge. You learned the hardest way possible that sometimes you just have to let go."
"And Dean hates me for it." Sam flung his arms out from his sides. "Because I didn't look for him when he vanished in Roman's lab. Because I tried to move on with my life the way he told me to. He doesn't understand. Even when it was his stupid deal that started all this in the first place."
"It was my stupid deal, if you want to get picky." Mary raised her eyebrows. "And he doesn't hate you for it. He just doesn't understand."
Sam shrugged. "Which means this is all moot, right? Whatever I decide to do here? Dean won't let me go if he has anything to say about it."
"Do you want him to?"
Sam looked down at the forest floor beneath his feet, replaying the conversation he'd just had with his not-brother. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I guess that's the question."
"You can ask Him, you know. For it to be permanent."
He looked at her sharply. "What?"
"You don't remember the other times you've died, do you?" Cocking her head to the side, Mary went on, "You're very special, Sam. The boy who caged Lucifer isn't going to be met by any old reaper. If you've made your decision, and you want it to stick, He can do that."
"You're making that up," Sam accused. He waved a hand around. "I'm making that up. You couldn't know that."
Mary gave him an enigmatic smile. "You've talked to the part of yourself that wants to fight, and the part that wants to rest. And now, the part of you that knows it isn't just about you. So the question remains, Sam, what are you going to do?"
He looked past her, towards the cabin where he could feel someone waiting for him. "I'm going to make a choice," he said slowly. He gave Mary a sideways glance. "Most people don't get to do this, do they? Two roads diverging in a wood and all that?"
"I told you you're special," she smiled. Then she patted his cheek, the same way he'd done to Dean a moment ago. "I know you'll make the right choice, Sam. I know you appreciate the value of having that choice."
"I do." He smiled at her, suddenly feeling lighter. "Thank you, Mom." He wrapped her up in an embrace, breathing in light floral perfume, feeling her arms come around him in response.
Then Sam set off for the cabin and the appointment that awaited him there.