On Our Own, 7/11, PG-13, Gen, AU
The angsty mcangst chapter you've all been waiting for.
Title: On Our Own
Chapter: 7 of 11
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through the end of season 5, though especially for 5x04.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
Summary: AU. When Sam is fifteen, his dad makes a decision based on a dark future he was apparently shown by an 'angel': split his sons up and abandon his youngest to keep that future at bay. Dean refuses to let it happen, but if they want to stay together, there's only one option: run.
Wordcount: This chapter, 2,658. Total: 32,725.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11A
Part 11B
Epilogue (to come!)
Sam was quiet. That in itself was disturbing. Sammy didn't do quiet unless he was thinking, doing homework, or disturbed about something. Thinking, maybe. Homework, definitely not. Disturbed...
Dean risked another glance towards his brother. Sam was in the passenger seat, gaze seemingly outside but really turned inwards. He'd been quiet ever since the angel had shown up last night, and the only reason Dean knew he wasn't asleep now was because he could see Sam swallowing, then wincing. Sam's ears tended to pop more easily up in the mountainous ranges.
And as much as Dean didn't want to admit about last night, there was nothing else it could be except an angel. It zipped in and out through the room, there'd been a definite wing sound, and for some unknown reason, Dean had believed its story. There'd been something about the weary but very powerful man that had put a belief in Dean he hadn't had since he was four. He'd believed the angel and his story with little to no proof.
Well, that and the letter. It turned his stomach just thinking about the entire mess, let alone what the letter had said. Apparently he didn't get any smarter through the years: he still did the same damn mistakes. Got in over his head, spoke before thinking. Let Sam go.
That one he wasn't intending on doing anytime soon. He'd keep Sam safe.
They were still a good four hours off from the highway turn they needed. Then it was down through showy Vegas to hopefully get a few funds, then on to Texas. Dean still didn't have a clue where to actually park them, or if he even could. Dad wouldn't give up on them easy. He'd been searching and hunting for one nasty sonuvabitch for fifteen years. If Dean thought that John Winchester would simply let them disappear, then he really was a moron.
His stomach growled, reminding him that it was high time to step off the highway and get food for the both of them, and fill up his baby while he was at it. “Sam,” he called softly, and when that didn't work, called a little louder. “Sam. We need lunch.”
Sam blinked before turning to look at Dean. “What?”
“Lunch,” Dean repeated. “We need sustenance. And the car needs gas.”
Any hope that his multi-syllable word would catch Sam's attention and maybe lead to teasing was lost when Sam merely nodded and turned back to the window. Dean sighed and turned back to the road. Time to do Dean's least favorite thing: talk. “What's going on, Sammy?” he asked.
Sam's, “Nothing,” came too quick, like it had been rehearsed.
“Sam.”
“Everything,” Sam countered then. “We've got some angel who got us into this mess, Dad who's not gonna give up on us if my entire lifetime is any indication, and we've passed two cop cars in the past hour.”
Dean frowned. There was something else beside all of those things that was eating at his little brother, but he let it go in favor of the last point Sam had made. “I'm going under speed limit.”
“And how many black 1967 Impalas do you see on the road?”
It only took two seconds to see what Sam was hinting at. If Dad had put out an APB on them, they were fried. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Sam said, voice softer now. “All sorts of new ways for us to be screwed.”
They were gonna have to get off the main roads. Exactly what Dad wanted. If they stayed on the main roads, cops would find them. If they skirted off to short country roads, then it would take longer to get anywhere. Dean was really starting to hate the boxed in feeling. “Change of plans?” Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. “Can't. That's what Dad's banking on now, I guarantee it. He's bound to have figured out that we didn't go east. We played him once with his own deck of cards, Dean. He's gonna change his MO now.”
Dad's MO would've been to turn right back around and head west. Call out an APB to find them. A black, older Impala would be easy to find.
The words felt like a betrayal, even before he said them. “We ditch the car.”
“What?”
Dean swallowed hard but continued. “You heard me. We ditch the car somewhere.”
“No,” Sam said, head shaking hard enough that Dean worried about it falling off. “No way, Dean. We're not losing the car.”
“Only for a little while,” Dean said. “Storage places have enough room for cars, some of 'em. We get a dust jacket for her, we take what we need, we buy a junker, and then we keep going. We come back for her later.”
“Dean-”
“End of discussion,” Dean said firmly. Sam was right: anywhere they went, the car stood out like a sore thumb. They couldn't risk it. Two young looking guys, one still a kid, in a black Chevy were easy targets. Dad wouldn't even have to do any work, it'd just be the cops holding the both of them until Dad found them. And no way would Dad ever dream of Dean letting the car out of his sight.
Dean had more important priorities, though. And when it came down to choosing between Sam and the car, Dean would have his decision made before anyone could finish asking.
“I don't want to.”
Sam's soft voice cut through Dean's thoughts like a knife. “You what?” Dean said, staring at Sam. “Sammy, you hate this car.”
“No I don't,” Sam protested hotly, before wincing again. Popping ears. And they'd been elevated for a good two, three hours. He should've said something, Dean should've said something sooner.
Without thinking Dean reached for the pack of gum in his pocket and handed it to Sam. “Yes you do,” Dean continued. “You constantly tell us we should get something comfier, something more environmentally friendly or whatever.”
Sam scrambled with the gum package until he had two strips of gum in his mouth. He winced again as he chewed, but he still answered. “It's...it's home, okay?” he mumbled, looking anywhere except at Dean. His cheeks turned pink as he said a little more loudly, “You can't ditch her. We'll figure something else out, okay? Please?”
As a hunter, the logical thing would be to ditch the car. The APB wouldn't take much to nail the both of them. The car was almost as easy to spot as their dad's truck, what with the damn blue stripe-
Dean swore his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, they widened so much. “What?” Sam asked as he chewed.
“We passed two cops, you said? And we didn't get pulled over, right?”
“Right...?”
“So Dad hasn't put out the APB yet.”
“No, not yet.”
“Then we do it first.”
“...On us?” Sam asked incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“On Dad and us,” Dean said with a grin. “It'll work, trust me.”
Sam hesitated for only a second before he nodded. “There's bound to be a police office in the next town,” he said. “We're gonna need FBI for crossing state lines, though.”
“Leave it to me, little brother,” Dean said, a grin spreading wide across his face. “You'll see.”
Luck managed to find them a larger city with a police station that put them into direct contact with the FBI. “Just work the puppy eyes,” Dean had told him before they'd gone into the station. “And we'll be fine.”
They'd dumped out everything at a local motel before they'd walked their way over. Dean had hidden the car at some warehouse near the shadier side of town beforehand, and now it was up to his brother's acting skills.
Which, Sam had to admit, were pretty damn good. Dean managed to weave a story about his classic car being stolen by some older guy, giving a detailed description of Dad. He'd seen the guy prowling around, telling them that they looked like his sons, and when they'd come out of their room where they were staying, the car had been gone. Sam 'suddenly' remembered the details of the truck the guy had been in before, right down to the ding in the back right bumper. There'd been personal things in the car, like photos and clothes, since they were traveling to meet family, and could the police help at all...?
Within the hour the police were out hunting for the car and their Dad. Dean's quick leap to put out the APB first meant whatever APB their dad put out on them wouldn't hold merit. He'd wind up arrested first. If and when the cops wound up believing him, they'd both be long gone, and no cops would stop them.
Sam had to admit, his older brother was seriously quick on his feet when it came to the hunt. This was just a different sort of hunt.
Currently, the cops were dropping them off back at their motel, refusing to let the boys take the bus back or worse, walk, not when their day had already been “filled with trouble”. Being in the back of the cop car was actually nerve wracking. Sam swallowed and winced as his ears tried to pop again. God he hated the mountains. His ears were always subject to it. He curled his hand into a fist and winced again, this time as his healing hand reminded him that it was still healing and to stop moving it.
“You all right, son?”
I'm no one's son anymore, Sam almost said, and it stopped him short for so long that the cop up front had to ask again. He swallowed hard and winced again as the sharp pain in his ears let them release, but only for a short while. “My ears,” he managed to get out. “They keep popping.”
The cop at least looked sympathetic as he offered back a stick of gum. “Mountains up here are hell on the eardrums,” the guy agreed. Sam took it through the bars with a nod of thanks and immediately started chewing. Whatever flavor it was, it was disgusting, but Sam didn't care. If it helped relieve the pressure in his ears, they were fine.
A squawk through the radio came through, and for one insane moment, Sam thought they were screwed. That somehow Dad had found them, that they were done for. That...that John had found them. Sam didn't know if they were still his sons, but considering the ease with which he'd been let go...
He swallowed again and shut his eyes, hoping that the burning in his eyes was just from the mountain air. Losing it in the back of a police car wasn't going to happen.
“Copy that,” the cop said, then turned to Dean with a grin. “Congrats, your car's been found. It's up in the seedier side of town. It'll be towed up to the station for you boys, and we'll have you on your way by tonight.”
Dean was effusive in his praise and thanks, and Sam gave a small smile here and there where needed. The cop dropped them off with a nod of his cap and then took off, leaving them at the motel room. The gum had gone sour in his mouth, and Sam had to swallow around the bad taste. They'd wound up not doing lunch, and now Sam was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. That was the story he was going with, at any rate. It was better, easier, than the truth.
Before he knew it, Dean was guiding him inside with a hand on the back of his neck. “We'll be out of here by tonight,” Dean said, shutting the door behind them. “You wanna order something in for lunch?”
Sam stared at the room around him, not even knowing what he was searching for. Dean's voice felt like it was fading out, and the gum in his mouth tasted dry and wrong. Absently he took it out and dropped it in the trash can near the door, then realized he had nothing now to focus on. The hole in his gut just kept swirling and twisting, leaving him to gaze at four walls that held no answer.
And it wasn't even that he was looking for an answer, though they'd certainly be welcome. An answer from his dad would be great. Why me? Why did you have to split us up? An answer from the angel would be nice, too. What happened in the future? Why did you want to fix the past? Why couldn't you go to another point in the past? Hell, as long as he was asking questions, he'd take one from his future brother, too. What did I do? Why did you let me go? Did you hate me? Why? Why wasn't I good enough to keep around?
It wasn't until he tried to shy away from his thoughts that a voice cut in through his thoughts, worried and loud. Hands on his shoulders brought him back to the room with no answers and his present brother up close, anxious and kneeling in front of Sam. His voice filtered in from muted to crystal clear. “Sammy, talk to me, is it your ears?”
There wasn't a single way to even begin describing how he felt, what he wanted, how everything couldn't get better. “Dean,” he choked out, and it was only then that he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dean.”
Then Dean's hands were moving from his shoulders to his back, hauling him in. Sam fit in against Dean's neck with a sob, hands clutching desperately at his brother's jacket. It had been Dad's, once, the leather so familiar that Sam could've sworn it was on his father just yesterday. Back when his dad had actually loved him.
Suddenly Sam had no trouble finding words. “Why,” he cried, then shouted it, his voice cracking the second time. “Why. Why did Dad, did you, what did I do...”
“Sammy,” Dean said helplessly.
“I get good grades,” Sam whispered brokenly. “I-I do the research, I'm getting b-better with my aim, and teens argue, but y-you're not supposed to...to let go just because we disagree, I-I do my best to do what he wants, isn't it good enough? W-Why did he, why did you...why don't you want me-”
Anger swelled suddenly inside of him, coming out like a burst. He beat his fists against Dean hard, the only buffer and punching bag he had. “Screw him,” Sam cursed, fists pounding again and again until it all just hurt. “Screw y-you, how could you let me go, why-”
And just as suddenly as the anger had come, it left, leaving him nothing but tears and a heart that kept shattering. Questions and demands spilled out, hot tears and accusations burning through him, begging Dean to tell him why he wasn't good enough, why he was the one being left behind, why why why. His legs gave beneath him, bringing the both of them to the floor in a crumpled heap. He cried like it was all he could do, tears pouring unchecked down his face.
Through it all, Dean held on. It was only when Sam began to quiet down to sniffles and hitched breaths that Dean finally spoke. “You're my little brother, Sam. That will never, ever change. I swear. I would do anything for you, always. I promise, Sammy.”
Sam closed his eyes, one last tear falling through his lashes and down his cheek. He had to believe it. Dean was all he had left, everything he had left. If Dean left him, then he'd sink.
With Dean here beside him, fingers clenched tightly around him, Sam could stay afloat through the confusion, doubt, and pain.
Part 8
~Nebula
Title: On Our Own
Chapter: 7 of 11
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through the end of season 5, though especially for 5x04.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
Summary: AU. When Sam is fifteen, his dad makes a decision based on a dark future he was apparently shown by an 'angel': split his sons up and abandon his youngest to keep that future at bay. Dean refuses to let it happen, but if they want to stay together, there's only one option: run.
Wordcount: This chapter, 2,658. Total: 32,725.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11A
Part 11B
Epilogue (to come!)
Sam was quiet. That in itself was disturbing. Sammy didn't do quiet unless he was thinking, doing homework, or disturbed about something. Thinking, maybe. Homework, definitely not. Disturbed...
Dean risked another glance towards his brother. Sam was in the passenger seat, gaze seemingly outside but really turned inwards. He'd been quiet ever since the angel had shown up last night, and the only reason Dean knew he wasn't asleep now was because he could see Sam swallowing, then wincing. Sam's ears tended to pop more easily up in the mountainous ranges.
And as much as Dean didn't want to admit about last night, there was nothing else it could be except an angel. It zipped in and out through the room, there'd been a definite wing sound, and for some unknown reason, Dean had believed its story. There'd been something about the weary but very powerful man that had put a belief in Dean he hadn't had since he was four. He'd believed the angel and his story with little to no proof.
Well, that and the letter. It turned his stomach just thinking about the entire mess, let alone what the letter had said. Apparently he didn't get any smarter through the years: he still did the same damn mistakes. Got in over his head, spoke before thinking. Let Sam go.
That one he wasn't intending on doing anytime soon. He'd keep Sam safe.
They were still a good four hours off from the highway turn they needed. Then it was down through showy Vegas to hopefully get a few funds, then on to Texas. Dean still didn't have a clue where to actually park them, or if he even could. Dad wouldn't give up on them easy. He'd been searching and hunting for one nasty sonuvabitch for fifteen years. If Dean thought that John Winchester would simply let them disappear, then he really was a moron.
His stomach growled, reminding him that it was high time to step off the highway and get food for the both of them, and fill up his baby while he was at it. “Sam,” he called softly, and when that didn't work, called a little louder. “Sam. We need lunch.”
Sam blinked before turning to look at Dean. “What?”
“Lunch,” Dean repeated. “We need sustenance. And the car needs gas.”
Any hope that his multi-syllable word would catch Sam's attention and maybe lead to teasing was lost when Sam merely nodded and turned back to the window. Dean sighed and turned back to the road. Time to do Dean's least favorite thing: talk. “What's going on, Sammy?” he asked.
Sam's, “Nothing,” came too quick, like it had been rehearsed.
“Sam.”
“Everything,” Sam countered then. “We've got some angel who got us into this mess, Dad who's not gonna give up on us if my entire lifetime is any indication, and we've passed two cop cars in the past hour.”
Dean frowned. There was something else beside all of those things that was eating at his little brother, but he let it go in favor of the last point Sam had made. “I'm going under speed limit.”
“And how many black 1967 Impalas do you see on the road?”
It only took two seconds to see what Sam was hinting at. If Dad had put out an APB on them, they were fried. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Sam said, voice softer now. “All sorts of new ways for us to be screwed.”
They were gonna have to get off the main roads. Exactly what Dad wanted. If they stayed on the main roads, cops would find them. If they skirted off to short country roads, then it would take longer to get anywhere. Dean was really starting to hate the boxed in feeling. “Change of plans?” Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. “Can't. That's what Dad's banking on now, I guarantee it. He's bound to have figured out that we didn't go east. We played him once with his own deck of cards, Dean. He's gonna change his MO now.”
Dad's MO would've been to turn right back around and head west. Call out an APB to find them. A black, older Impala would be easy to find.
The words felt like a betrayal, even before he said them. “We ditch the car.”
“What?”
Dean swallowed hard but continued. “You heard me. We ditch the car somewhere.”
“No,” Sam said, head shaking hard enough that Dean worried about it falling off. “No way, Dean. We're not losing the car.”
“Only for a little while,” Dean said. “Storage places have enough room for cars, some of 'em. We get a dust jacket for her, we take what we need, we buy a junker, and then we keep going. We come back for her later.”
“Dean-”
“End of discussion,” Dean said firmly. Sam was right: anywhere they went, the car stood out like a sore thumb. They couldn't risk it. Two young looking guys, one still a kid, in a black Chevy were easy targets. Dad wouldn't even have to do any work, it'd just be the cops holding the both of them until Dad found them. And no way would Dad ever dream of Dean letting the car out of his sight.
Dean had more important priorities, though. And when it came down to choosing between Sam and the car, Dean would have his decision made before anyone could finish asking.
“I don't want to.”
Sam's soft voice cut through Dean's thoughts like a knife. “You what?” Dean said, staring at Sam. “Sammy, you hate this car.”
“No I don't,” Sam protested hotly, before wincing again. Popping ears. And they'd been elevated for a good two, three hours. He should've said something, Dean should've said something sooner.
Without thinking Dean reached for the pack of gum in his pocket and handed it to Sam. “Yes you do,” Dean continued. “You constantly tell us we should get something comfier, something more environmentally friendly or whatever.”
Sam scrambled with the gum package until he had two strips of gum in his mouth. He winced again as he chewed, but he still answered. “It's...it's home, okay?” he mumbled, looking anywhere except at Dean. His cheeks turned pink as he said a little more loudly, “You can't ditch her. We'll figure something else out, okay? Please?”
As a hunter, the logical thing would be to ditch the car. The APB wouldn't take much to nail the both of them. The car was almost as easy to spot as their dad's truck, what with the damn blue stripe-
Dean swore his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, they widened so much. “What?” Sam asked as he chewed.
“We passed two cops, you said? And we didn't get pulled over, right?”
“Right...?”
“So Dad hasn't put out the APB yet.”
“No, not yet.”
“Then we do it first.”
“...On us?” Sam asked incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“On Dad and us,” Dean said with a grin. “It'll work, trust me.”
Sam hesitated for only a second before he nodded. “There's bound to be a police office in the next town,” he said. “We're gonna need FBI for crossing state lines, though.”
“Leave it to me, little brother,” Dean said, a grin spreading wide across his face. “You'll see.”
Luck managed to find them a larger city with a police station that put them into direct contact with the FBI. “Just work the puppy eyes,” Dean had told him before they'd gone into the station. “And we'll be fine.”
They'd dumped out everything at a local motel before they'd walked their way over. Dean had hidden the car at some warehouse near the shadier side of town beforehand, and now it was up to his brother's acting skills.
Which, Sam had to admit, were pretty damn good. Dean managed to weave a story about his classic car being stolen by some older guy, giving a detailed description of Dad. He'd seen the guy prowling around, telling them that they looked like his sons, and when they'd come out of their room where they were staying, the car had been gone. Sam 'suddenly' remembered the details of the truck the guy had been in before, right down to the ding in the back right bumper. There'd been personal things in the car, like photos and clothes, since they were traveling to meet family, and could the police help at all...?
Within the hour the police were out hunting for the car and their Dad. Dean's quick leap to put out the APB first meant whatever APB their dad put out on them wouldn't hold merit. He'd wind up arrested first. If and when the cops wound up believing him, they'd both be long gone, and no cops would stop them.
Sam had to admit, his older brother was seriously quick on his feet when it came to the hunt. This was just a different sort of hunt.
Currently, the cops were dropping them off back at their motel, refusing to let the boys take the bus back or worse, walk, not when their day had already been “filled with trouble”. Being in the back of the cop car was actually nerve wracking. Sam swallowed and winced as his ears tried to pop again. God he hated the mountains. His ears were always subject to it. He curled his hand into a fist and winced again, this time as his healing hand reminded him that it was still healing and to stop moving it.
“You all right, son?”
I'm no one's son anymore, Sam almost said, and it stopped him short for so long that the cop up front had to ask again. He swallowed hard and winced again as the sharp pain in his ears let them release, but only for a short while. “My ears,” he managed to get out. “They keep popping.”
The cop at least looked sympathetic as he offered back a stick of gum. “Mountains up here are hell on the eardrums,” the guy agreed. Sam took it through the bars with a nod of thanks and immediately started chewing. Whatever flavor it was, it was disgusting, but Sam didn't care. If it helped relieve the pressure in his ears, they were fine.
A squawk through the radio came through, and for one insane moment, Sam thought they were screwed. That somehow Dad had found them, that they were done for. That...that John had found them. Sam didn't know if they were still his sons, but considering the ease with which he'd been let go...
He swallowed again and shut his eyes, hoping that the burning in his eyes was just from the mountain air. Losing it in the back of a police car wasn't going to happen.
“Copy that,” the cop said, then turned to Dean with a grin. “Congrats, your car's been found. It's up in the seedier side of town. It'll be towed up to the station for you boys, and we'll have you on your way by tonight.”
Dean was effusive in his praise and thanks, and Sam gave a small smile here and there where needed. The cop dropped them off with a nod of his cap and then took off, leaving them at the motel room. The gum had gone sour in his mouth, and Sam had to swallow around the bad taste. They'd wound up not doing lunch, and now Sam was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. That was the story he was going with, at any rate. It was better, easier, than the truth.
Before he knew it, Dean was guiding him inside with a hand on the back of his neck. “We'll be out of here by tonight,” Dean said, shutting the door behind them. “You wanna order something in for lunch?”
Sam stared at the room around him, not even knowing what he was searching for. Dean's voice felt like it was fading out, and the gum in his mouth tasted dry and wrong. Absently he took it out and dropped it in the trash can near the door, then realized he had nothing now to focus on. The hole in his gut just kept swirling and twisting, leaving him to gaze at four walls that held no answer.
And it wasn't even that he was looking for an answer, though they'd certainly be welcome. An answer from his dad would be great. Why me? Why did you have to split us up? An answer from the angel would be nice, too. What happened in the future? Why did you want to fix the past? Why couldn't you go to another point in the past? Hell, as long as he was asking questions, he'd take one from his future brother, too. What did I do? Why did you let me go? Did you hate me? Why? Why wasn't I good enough to keep around?
It wasn't until he tried to shy away from his thoughts that a voice cut in through his thoughts, worried and loud. Hands on his shoulders brought him back to the room with no answers and his present brother up close, anxious and kneeling in front of Sam. His voice filtered in from muted to crystal clear. “Sammy, talk to me, is it your ears?”
There wasn't a single way to even begin describing how he felt, what he wanted, how everything couldn't get better. “Dean,” he choked out, and it was only then that he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dean.”
Then Dean's hands were moving from his shoulders to his back, hauling him in. Sam fit in against Dean's neck with a sob, hands clutching desperately at his brother's jacket. It had been Dad's, once, the leather so familiar that Sam could've sworn it was on his father just yesterday. Back when his dad had actually loved him.
Suddenly Sam had no trouble finding words. “Why,” he cried, then shouted it, his voice cracking the second time. “Why. Why did Dad, did you, what did I do...”
“Sammy,” Dean said helplessly.
“I get good grades,” Sam whispered brokenly. “I-I do the research, I'm getting b-better with my aim, and teens argue, but y-you're not supposed to...to let go just because we disagree, I-I do my best to do what he wants, isn't it good enough? W-Why did he, why did you...why don't you want me-”
Anger swelled suddenly inside of him, coming out like a burst. He beat his fists against Dean hard, the only buffer and punching bag he had. “Screw him,” Sam cursed, fists pounding again and again until it all just hurt. “Screw y-you, how could you let me go, why-”
And just as suddenly as the anger had come, it left, leaving him nothing but tears and a heart that kept shattering. Questions and demands spilled out, hot tears and accusations burning through him, begging Dean to tell him why he wasn't good enough, why he was the one being left behind, why why why. His legs gave beneath him, bringing the both of them to the floor in a crumpled heap. He cried like it was all he could do, tears pouring unchecked down his face.
Through it all, Dean held on. It was only when Sam began to quiet down to sniffles and hitched breaths that Dean finally spoke. “You're my little brother, Sam. That will never, ever change. I swear. I would do anything for you, always. I promise, Sammy.”
Sam closed his eyes, one last tear falling through his lashes and down his cheek. He had to believe it. Dean was all he had left, everything he had left. If Dean left him, then he'd sink.
With Dean here beside him, fingers clenched tightly around him, Sam could stay afloat through the confusion, doubt, and pain.
Part 8
~Nebula