Let Her Into Your Heart, 1/1, PG-13, RaBB, post 5x13
Icon is totally aprops.
Also, hi RaBB!verse! *waves* This was supposed to be a coda to 5x20 but, well. Y'know how muses are.
Title: Let Her Into Your Heart
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #197 - Jizo for tamingthemuse
Verse: Raising a Big Brother
Spoilers: Post 5x13: Song Remains the Same
Disclaimer: The 'verse is mine, but the characters within it? All Kripke's. Title from the Beatles' "Hey Jude".
Summary: His mom was gone. His mom was gone. And Sam started to cry.
Wordcount: 1,904
It was a quicker realization than it had been with Dean. Telling himself hadn't worked, and it hadn't hammered home even when Bobby had tried to help in the following two weeks. He just hadn't been able to accept that Dean was gone. Dean was buried, dead, and gone. It hadn't struck him for over two weeks.
But it happened in the same way, at least. Sam found himself waking up in the middle of the night and realizing that his mom was really dead. She was gone, dead, not coming back.
His mom was gone. His mom was gone.
And Sam started to cry.
Not loudly; he couldn't afford to. Castiel was still sacked out on the bed furthest from the door, leaving Sam to share the remaining bed with his brother. (Of course, he'd been relegated to the side farthest from the door: some habits would never die.) He tried to keep his shaking to a minimum, even when the outlines of the room blurred in front of him. The light from underneath the bathroom door disappeared swiftly when he shut his eyes, spilling more tears.
She'd never been a tactile thing. He'd seen pictures, heard stories. Then he'd seen her years ago in their house, heard her speak. He'd imagined her in the panic room, but her touch hadn't been there. She hadn't really been there.
But jumping back in time...she'd been right there. Young and alive and complete with frowns and smiles. Seeing his dad had been hard, and it'd taken everything not to pull him in and tell him that he loved him. And he'd known the man his entire life.
Seeing her, though...
His breath hitched without his permission, and Sam bit his lip as hard as he could. His chest ached like he'd been sucker-punched, leaving him feeling winded. His eyes burned as he thought back to her sweet smile, her own tears when Dean finally told her who they really were. The look on her face...
When Dean had been in Hell, Sam had always had a hope that he could get him back. He'd prayed to every god available, from the traditional God of Judea-Christianity all the way to Jizo, a Buddhist god who eased the suffering of the damned (and he'd imagined his brother making a rude joke every time he had, and it had only made him the more determined). Even when every attempt to save Dean had failed, Sam had still hoped. He knew somehow he'd get Dean out. Dean wasn't lost forever. No, Sam could get him back. He could pull the big brother he loved from the flames.
But his mom was beyond saving. She was gone, forever out of reach. He couldn't go back again and try to protect her. He couldn't warn her about what would happen. She was nearly thirty years in the past, and his hands itched to hold her. He wanted to hug her and feel her arms around him and he never wanted to let go.
Because the look on her face, when Dean had told her who they really were, hadn't been fear. It had been surprise, sure, but then it had been awe. She'd looked them both up and down and she'd cried, and she'd been grief-stricken because she wouldn't get to see them grow up. She wanted to be there for them. She wanted to hold them and watch them grow and help them with homework and...and love them.
And Sam was never going to get that. Dean had never gotten it, and Sam was never going to get it. Because she was gone.
For the first time in his life, Sam Winchester wanted his mom. And the bitter knowledge that he couldn't have her was leaving him a shuddering, silently sobbing mess on his bed at nearly two in the morning.
He was going to wake Dean up. His hitched breaths were turning into gasps while his heart continued to break, and he couldn't muffle his cries any longer. He started pushing himself up to hide in the bathroom, outside in the car, anywhere that wasn't going to wake Dean up.
“Sam?”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut even harder. “Sam?” Dean asked again, sleepy and confused.
He had to swallow three times before he could answer, all the while hearing Dean shift as if turning over. “Go back to sleep,” he wanted to say, except he got the first two words out before he choked up. It was something he could hear her say, all of sudden. Knowing what her voice sounded from angry to shocked, sad to happy, meant that he could hear her saying anything, and he could almost see her in front of him, smiling down at him, telling him to go back to sleep, baby boy.
The next sob wasn't even close to muffled, and it felt like the last part of his heart broke with it. “Mom,” he choked miserably.
In the matter of two seconds Dean had him turned around and in his arms. Sam didn't even question the un-Dean move, simply curled up and cried into his brother's shirt. The voice of his brother surrounded him, soft words from simple shushes to soft promises that it'd be okay. Sam let the words wash over him, tears flowing unchecked down his face. It felt hard to breathe, and he needed to stop before his chest got any tighter.
All he could see was her golden hair, her beautiful face. Her gentleness and her compassion. Her little furrow in her brow just like Sam's own when he was frustrated.
The awe on her face as she looked at him and instantly, without any doubt, just by knowing who he was, loved him. Because he was hers.
Dean's fingers tightened impossibly further in his shirt. “You're still hers, Sammy,” he murmured. “God she loved you so much kiddo, you'll never know.”
Except that he did, now, and it made it all the worse that she was gone. She'd died for him, because of him.
“I've...I've never w-wanted her,” Sam gasped out, because it was suddenly so necessary for Dean to understand. “She wasn't...wasn't real, not...but she was right there and s-she was...” He had to swallow twice before he could continue. “She was so beautiful,” he barely managed. His throat wouldn't work, couldn't with the lump stuck in the middle of it. No matter how hard he tried to swallow, it still wouldn't leave.
She would've known how to make it go away. His eyes burned impossibly further and he wrapped his fingers to the point of pain in Dean's shirt. “I want my mom,” he choked. “I want her here and she's gone, and she...Dean, she's....”
Sam gave up trying to explain and began crying in earnest again. He felt like the eight year old kid whose world had been tipped over. Nothing made sense and he wanted someone to make it better, and he couldn't stop crying.
Through it all, Dean didn't let go. Held him tight, let him curl up under Dean's chin, even when Sam knew he could feel Dean's tears in his hair. Still, he didn't let him go. Not once.
When Sam came back to himself, he was still laying down, but Dean had moved to sit up against the headboard. Sam was currently wrapped around his brother's middle, Dean's shirt well past damp underneath him. He sniffled softly, his body trying to come down from the crying. His eyes felt swollen and gritty, his nose burned, and his throat felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. Dean's arm was still wrapped around him like a shield. Keeping him safer than Sam had felt in a long time. His big brother, back in business.
It took Sam another moment to realize that Dean was singing softly. He frowned slightly, trying to place the song.
The minute the words registered, his eyes began to fill again. Above him, Dean sang on, his gaze somewhere else. “And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders...”
He remembered that. Dean singing that to him as a kid, whenever Sam would get upset and nearly inconsolable. As he'd gotten older, he'd wondered why, when there hadn't been a single Beatles tape in the car. Sure, everyone knew the lyrics to “Hey Jude,” but it had never really made sense. It had just worked.
New tears rolled down his face, causing Dean to stop. “Aw, Sammy,” Dean said, shifting underneath Sam. “C'mon, kiddo. I know, trust me I know. She's gone and you...” Dean swallowed above him, and Sam cast his swollen gaze up towards his brother. “You never had her. I got her at least for four years, but you...you didn't. You didn't get any of that stuff. I should've warned you, I should've known it was gonna hit you hard.”
You didn't get any of that stuff. Except that he had. Not the mom who smiled so brightly and loved him unconditionally. Something inside of him had broken when he'd realized she was gone, the same stupid something that had jumped in front of her to try and save her and his unborn brother. To try and keep her safe for just a little longer.
But he'd gotten the big brother who grinned so widely and loved him unconditionally. Even when Sam had thought he'd passed the point of no return, Dean had surprised him and kept on loving him. Didn't like him all the time, sure. But he'd still loved him.
And Dean had given him “that stuff.” The raising him, the checking his homework, the beating up bullies, the packing his lunch, the being proud of him. Dean had been that someone for him. Dean was still that someone for him. Hadn't been for awhile; they'd both gotten lost.
But somehow, against the odds, Sam had his big brother back.
Sam shifted more upright but didn't move. “I prayed to the god Jizo when you were in Hell, to try and help you,” he whispered, his voice shredded.
There was a moment of surprised silence, and Sam could almost hear his brother mentally shifting gears. “Jizo?” Dean said, and the smirk appeared. “What type of help were you trying to get me, little brother?”
He wanted to answer in a flippant manner, something casual yet still funny. He wanted to tell his brother that he was okay now, that he was going to keep missing their mom, his mom, but it'd get better.
Instead what came out was, “I'm glad you're here.”
Nearly thirty years ago he'd lost his mom forever. But he hadn't lost Dean, and he'd take the miracles he could. He couldn't even begin to fathom existence without his brother.
Dean's arm tightened a little more. “I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. “I swear, Sammy.”
Sam nodded against his brother's chest. The soft, “Get some sleep,” wasn't feminine in the slightest, and there was no long golden hair or sweet smile that accompanied it.
But it was gentle, and there were hands pulling up the sheets and blankets around him. There was a soft hand running across his head, brushing the hair back from his red, swollen eyes.
Sam closed his eyes and slept.
END
~Nebula
Also, hi RaBB!verse! *waves* This was supposed to be a coda to 5x20 but, well. Y'know how muses are.
Title: Let Her Into Your Heart
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #197 - Jizo for tamingthemuse
Verse: Raising a Big Brother
Spoilers: Post 5x13: Song Remains the Same
Disclaimer: The 'verse is mine, but the characters within it? All Kripke's. Title from the Beatles' "Hey Jude".
Summary: His mom was gone. His mom was gone. And Sam started to cry.
Wordcount: 1,904
It was a quicker realization than it had been with Dean. Telling himself hadn't worked, and it hadn't hammered home even when Bobby had tried to help in the following two weeks. He just hadn't been able to accept that Dean was gone. Dean was buried, dead, and gone. It hadn't struck him for over two weeks.
But it happened in the same way, at least. Sam found himself waking up in the middle of the night and realizing that his mom was really dead. She was gone, dead, not coming back.
His mom was gone. His mom was gone.
And Sam started to cry.
Not loudly; he couldn't afford to. Castiel was still sacked out on the bed furthest from the door, leaving Sam to share the remaining bed with his brother. (Of course, he'd been relegated to the side farthest from the door: some habits would never die.) He tried to keep his shaking to a minimum, even when the outlines of the room blurred in front of him. The light from underneath the bathroom door disappeared swiftly when he shut his eyes, spilling more tears.
She'd never been a tactile thing. He'd seen pictures, heard stories. Then he'd seen her years ago in their house, heard her speak. He'd imagined her in the panic room, but her touch hadn't been there. She hadn't really been there.
But jumping back in time...she'd been right there. Young and alive and complete with frowns and smiles. Seeing his dad had been hard, and it'd taken everything not to pull him in and tell him that he loved him. And he'd known the man his entire life.
Seeing her, though...
His breath hitched without his permission, and Sam bit his lip as hard as he could. His chest ached like he'd been sucker-punched, leaving him feeling winded. His eyes burned as he thought back to her sweet smile, her own tears when Dean finally told her who they really were. The look on her face...
When Dean had been in Hell, Sam had always had a hope that he could get him back. He'd prayed to every god available, from the traditional God of Judea-Christianity all the way to Jizo, a Buddhist god who eased the suffering of the damned (and he'd imagined his brother making a rude joke every time he had, and it had only made him the more determined). Even when every attempt to save Dean had failed, Sam had still hoped. He knew somehow he'd get Dean out. Dean wasn't lost forever. No, Sam could get him back. He could pull the big brother he loved from the flames.
But his mom was beyond saving. She was gone, forever out of reach. He couldn't go back again and try to protect her. He couldn't warn her about what would happen. She was nearly thirty years in the past, and his hands itched to hold her. He wanted to hug her and feel her arms around him and he never wanted to let go.
Because the look on her face, when Dean had told her who they really were, hadn't been fear. It had been surprise, sure, but then it had been awe. She'd looked them both up and down and she'd cried, and she'd been grief-stricken because she wouldn't get to see them grow up. She wanted to be there for them. She wanted to hold them and watch them grow and help them with homework and...and love them.
And Sam was never going to get that. Dean had never gotten it, and Sam was never going to get it. Because she was gone.
For the first time in his life, Sam Winchester wanted his mom. And the bitter knowledge that he couldn't have her was leaving him a shuddering, silently sobbing mess on his bed at nearly two in the morning.
He was going to wake Dean up. His hitched breaths were turning into gasps while his heart continued to break, and he couldn't muffle his cries any longer. He started pushing himself up to hide in the bathroom, outside in the car, anywhere that wasn't going to wake Dean up.
“Sam?”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut even harder. “Sam?” Dean asked again, sleepy and confused.
He had to swallow three times before he could answer, all the while hearing Dean shift as if turning over. “Go back to sleep,” he wanted to say, except he got the first two words out before he choked up. It was something he could hear her say, all of sudden. Knowing what her voice sounded from angry to shocked, sad to happy, meant that he could hear her saying anything, and he could almost see her in front of him, smiling down at him, telling him to go back to sleep, baby boy.
The next sob wasn't even close to muffled, and it felt like the last part of his heart broke with it. “Mom,” he choked miserably.
In the matter of two seconds Dean had him turned around and in his arms. Sam didn't even question the un-Dean move, simply curled up and cried into his brother's shirt. The voice of his brother surrounded him, soft words from simple shushes to soft promises that it'd be okay. Sam let the words wash over him, tears flowing unchecked down his face. It felt hard to breathe, and he needed to stop before his chest got any tighter.
All he could see was her golden hair, her beautiful face. Her gentleness and her compassion. Her little furrow in her brow just like Sam's own when he was frustrated.
The awe on her face as she looked at him and instantly, without any doubt, just by knowing who he was, loved him. Because he was hers.
Dean's fingers tightened impossibly further in his shirt. “You're still hers, Sammy,” he murmured. “God she loved you so much kiddo, you'll never know.”
Except that he did, now, and it made it all the worse that she was gone. She'd died for him, because of him.
“I've...I've never w-wanted her,” Sam gasped out, because it was suddenly so necessary for Dean to understand. “She wasn't...wasn't real, not...but she was right there and s-she was...” He had to swallow twice before he could continue. “She was so beautiful,” he barely managed. His throat wouldn't work, couldn't with the lump stuck in the middle of it. No matter how hard he tried to swallow, it still wouldn't leave.
She would've known how to make it go away. His eyes burned impossibly further and he wrapped his fingers to the point of pain in Dean's shirt. “I want my mom,” he choked. “I want her here and she's gone, and she...Dean, she's....”
Sam gave up trying to explain and began crying in earnest again. He felt like the eight year old kid whose world had been tipped over. Nothing made sense and he wanted someone to make it better, and he couldn't stop crying.
Through it all, Dean didn't let go. Held him tight, let him curl up under Dean's chin, even when Sam knew he could feel Dean's tears in his hair. Still, he didn't let him go. Not once.
When Sam came back to himself, he was still laying down, but Dean had moved to sit up against the headboard. Sam was currently wrapped around his brother's middle, Dean's shirt well past damp underneath him. He sniffled softly, his body trying to come down from the crying. His eyes felt swollen and gritty, his nose burned, and his throat felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. Dean's arm was still wrapped around him like a shield. Keeping him safer than Sam had felt in a long time. His big brother, back in business.
It took Sam another moment to realize that Dean was singing softly. He frowned slightly, trying to place the song.
The minute the words registered, his eyes began to fill again. Above him, Dean sang on, his gaze somewhere else. “And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders...”
He remembered that. Dean singing that to him as a kid, whenever Sam would get upset and nearly inconsolable. As he'd gotten older, he'd wondered why, when there hadn't been a single Beatles tape in the car. Sure, everyone knew the lyrics to “Hey Jude,” but it had never really made sense. It had just worked.
New tears rolled down his face, causing Dean to stop. “Aw, Sammy,” Dean said, shifting underneath Sam. “C'mon, kiddo. I know, trust me I know. She's gone and you...” Dean swallowed above him, and Sam cast his swollen gaze up towards his brother. “You never had her. I got her at least for four years, but you...you didn't. You didn't get any of that stuff. I should've warned you, I should've known it was gonna hit you hard.”
You didn't get any of that stuff. Except that he had. Not the mom who smiled so brightly and loved him unconditionally. Something inside of him had broken when he'd realized she was gone, the same stupid something that had jumped in front of her to try and save her and his unborn brother. To try and keep her safe for just a little longer.
But he'd gotten the big brother who grinned so widely and loved him unconditionally. Even when Sam had thought he'd passed the point of no return, Dean had surprised him and kept on loving him. Didn't like him all the time, sure. But he'd still loved him.
And Dean had given him “that stuff.” The raising him, the checking his homework, the beating up bullies, the packing his lunch, the being proud of him. Dean had been that someone for him. Dean was still that someone for him. Hadn't been for awhile; they'd both gotten lost.
But somehow, against the odds, Sam had his big brother back.
Sam shifted more upright but didn't move. “I prayed to the god Jizo when you were in Hell, to try and help you,” he whispered, his voice shredded.
There was a moment of surprised silence, and Sam could almost hear his brother mentally shifting gears. “Jizo?” Dean said, and the smirk appeared. “What type of help were you trying to get me, little brother?”
He wanted to answer in a flippant manner, something casual yet still funny. He wanted to tell his brother that he was okay now, that he was going to keep missing their mom, his mom, but it'd get better.
Instead what came out was, “I'm glad you're here.”
Nearly thirty years ago he'd lost his mom forever. But he hadn't lost Dean, and he'd take the miracles he could. He couldn't even begin to fathom existence without his brother.
Dean's arm tightened a little more. “I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. “I swear, Sammy.”
Sam nodded against his brother's chest. The soft, “Get some sleep,” wasn't feminine in the slightest, and there was no long golden hair or sweet smile that accompanied it.
But it was gentle, and there were hands pulling up the sheets and blankets around him. There was a soft hand running across his head, brushing the hair back from his red, swollen eyes.
Sam closed his eyes and slept.
END
~Nebula