Requiem For A Dream, Chapter 1
The other day I was trawling YouTube looking for Wincest videos, as you do, and I came across this one...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phf9MAV6NDw
And after a conversation with the person who made it, jadams04, I decided to give the story a go.
Post All Hell Breaks Lose Part 1, Dean makes the deal. But the twist is that Sam won't remember Dean, wont remember the life they had. He is back at Stanford 3 years after the death of his girlfriend Jessica, and he starts having dreams about a man named Dean. Will he be able to find Dean before his year is out?
And all the while Dean is living out his year, along, hurting, and mourning the loss of his brother.
It begins with a man, a young man talking to a faceless, always faceless, body lying on a bed in a poor excuse for a house.
"I just wanted to protect you, keep you safe...dad didn't even have to tell me, it was always my responsibility, you know. Its like, I had one job...one job...and I screwed it up.” His voice breaks then, and Sam, always in the shadows, always unable to offer comfort, desperately wants to tell him it wasn't his fault, and he always opens his mouth to speak, to offer the words the man needs to hear, but no words come and Sam is forced to listen, to the sound of a man's heart breaking into tiny pieces, over and over again.
“I blew it...and for that, I'm sorry.” A tear slips out of his eye and down his cheek. “I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let dad down, and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down too...how can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy...” And Sam always takes a step forward at that, his name, the name no one ever calls him, sounding somehow perfect on the lips of the man he doesn't even know and he wants to wrap his arms around him, wants to bury his head in the crook of his neck.
“God...what am I supposed to do?” He asks the air again, his voice turning from heartbroken to angry, and he stands, pushing the chair back and shouts into the night.
“What am I supposed to do?”
And suddenly Sam is transported, although he usually just finds himself jerked from the house and his breath stolen from him and suddenly he's standing on a crossroads with Dean, for its at this point he knows the man is called Dean, and a dark haired girl standing in front of him, her eyes flash red, red like a warning and Sam wants to run, wants to tell the man to run, to leave this place, that no one is this important.
And they’re talking about demons and deals and Sam, and Dean’s gutter soul and Sam squeezes his eyes shut in confusion.
“I'll give you 1 year and 1 year only. But here's the thing, if try to welch or weasel your way out then the deal is off, Sam drops dead, he's back to rotten meat in no time.” Sam is screaming at this point, always screaming, screaming Dean’s name over and over in an endless cycle of no and Dean, trying to drag him away, away from the hungry look in the girl’s eye.
“And Sam will never know you, wont remember a thing, will go back to his white picket fence life as if the past three years of the Winchester family adventures hasn't happened...so...” The girl is saying, Sam's cries unheard, and he wants to tell Dean he will remember, because Dean is a part of his soul and how can you forget part of your soul? “Its a better deal than your dad ever got...what d'you say?” And Dean looks at her, all desperation and calculation in his eyes and Sam wants to shut his, doesn't want to see what he has been seeing in his dreams for the past three weeks.
Dean kisses the girl...
“Dean…”
Sam struggles from the dream, a once strange, now familiar name on his lips, a blinding pain between his eyes and a strange, almost stabbing sensation in his back.
He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.
It is the 7th time in 3 weeks that he has woken, feeling a strange sense of foreboding and calling out a name that sounds and feels like it belongs in his life. And Sam thinks he might be going crazy. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and places his head in his hands, his fingers kneading the migraine that always comes after the dream.
“Sam?” A soft voice calls and Sam turns, anguish clear on his face. “Another one?”
“Yeah...it's fine, go back to sleep.” He places a kiss on her temple and she nods once, snuggling back down into her pillow and her breathing evening out.
Sam makes his way through the apartment to the kitchen and pulls out his laptop. His fingers poised over the keyboard, wanting to look for something, anything, to give an explanation of what is wrong with him, why he keeps waking saying a name that sounds more at home in his mouth than his girlfriends. Wanting to find out why Dean has the same last name as him, why he looks so familiar yet he can’t place him, why the eyes of the dark haired girl makes a shiver run down to the base of his spine and why every time he sees Dean reach for her, he wants to cry.
Louise appears in the doorway, soft curves leaning against the door frame and her arms crossed over one of Sam's shirts. He looks up and smiles as she walks towards him, sitting down in his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Maybe go see the doctor.” She suggests in a sleepy voice and Sam nods, because what else can he do?
Louise has been a saviour since Jessica died in a fire three years ago. Three long years. Sam had met her in a bar, drowning his sorrows in beer, alone, always alone because his parents had died too, and Louise had recognised the pain that was reflected in his eyes, and she had been kind, sweet, understanding and patient. And Sam had eventually fallen in love again.
Then three weeks ago, Sam had woken to the first nightmare, scared, and feeling a sense of dread in his stomach that lingered for far too long.
He felt the pull of the dream, and sometimes, when it didn't come, he mourned its loss, mourned the fact that he didn't see Dean’s green eyes, so full of anguish and Sam can't help but know that its him being talked to, him being shouted at for leaving Dean, leaving him alone and hurting and helpless. And he wants to help, wants to understand that he isn't going crazy, because some small part of him feels that it may not be a dream.
And that thought scares him.
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Dean throws back the whiskey, revelling in the burning sensation down his throat, trying to dull the ache in his stomach, his chest, and deep down in his very soul at the loss of Sam. The only respite from the pain being that he knows Sam is alive, safe and happy, back where he belongs in his apple pie life. Because Sammy was never meant to hunt, he was, is, too gentle to know about and be able to kill the things that go bump in the night.
“How about another one?” The bar waitress asks, all hips and soft curves and beguiling smiles. Dean pushes his glass forward and nods dumbly, words not coming so easily now, not since Sam...and Dean can't finish that thought.
“You ok honey?” That waitress asks and Dean looks up, and her face softens even more, and Dean knows that there are tears in his eyes. He manages to read her name through the haze.
“I'm fine Katie, just fine.” He tries to smile and Katie sighs, pulls out a chair and sits down, pulling Dean's glass towards her and taking a sip.
“I know not ok when I see it sugar. Someone's gone and broke your heart.” She says and pats his hand. Dean doesn't have the heart to tell her otherwise, doesn't have the heart for anything anymore. So he nods again and Katie sighs again.
“Well, she probably don't deserve you. Someone like you needs a real woman.” She says and Dean catches the meaning in her tone and her eyes.
And he thinks, why not? Why not get lost in soft skin, and his name on a girls lips and before he knows it, he is out the back of the bar, Katie on her knees and her sweet mouth is wrapped around him.
Dean's head lolls back and hits the wall and he doesn't mind the pain, because physical pain is a welcome distraction from the ache in his heart. Katie is trying and he isn't helping, isn't rising to the occasion and he hauls her off her feet, and kisses her softly.
“I'm sorry Katie.” He hates the way his voice cracks and he wishes, not for the first time, that Sammy was here. And the thought catches him off guard, because he is thinking about Sammy whilst his pants are around his ankles and a girl is plastered to his chest and he's only half hard.
“She left you good and broken huh?” Katie asks, understanding in her eyes and Dean wants to shout, want scream, wants to get into a fight and feel something other than pain and loneliness. He nods again and lets out a bitter laugh at the fact that she must think him simple cos he hasn't spoken more than 10 words to her.
She searches his face, her soft hands cupping his cheeks and Dean crumples, visibly, and mentally, sliding down the wall, ignoring the way it scratches his back and Katie is there, pulling him into a hug and rocking him slightly, running her fingers through his hair, and cooing soft words in his ear.
He thinks they must look ridiculous, sitting in the dirt of a back alley, his pants and boxers round his ankles, being held by a waitress and he lets go and sobs into the crook of her arm.
But he honestly can't bring himself to care.
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