fic: Reindeers Are Better Than People (4/4)

[glovered]

Masterpost - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Art Masterpost



At the party later that night, there were two bands, an ice sculpture of a lion, and a man who could breathe fire. An enormous roast pig gleamed in the center of the long table, a butternut squash wedged in its mouth. Until a few weeks ago, Sam would have been bowled over by the lavish celebrations, but tonight he felt entirely unimpressed. He hung out next to Jo and ate mini-quiches, feeling listless as Charlie and Ash carried on a deep discussion about applied mathematics in regards to sandwich-making.

Dean wasn't in attendance, he didn't think. He wondered if he was alone somewhere, working on the sled or packing up his few possessions to leave town.

"Quit sulking," Jo told Sam, after an hour of stilted conversation.

"I'm not," he lied, glancing over at the doors to the entrance hall for the fifth time that minutes. And then his breath caught in his throat. "Dean."

Dean was dressed almost entirely in black, with hints of grey of his manblouse peaking out at the collar and sleeves under his dark jerkin.

He came directly up to Sam, his jaw firmed like he was feeling supremely ill at ease. "Look," he said. "Let's call it a truce."

"Truce?"

"Yeah. No hard feelings," Dean said. "You stay on one side, I stay on the other. I'm here for the party. There's free food and free booze and chicks. I'd rather not spend this opportunity feeling supremely awkward."

Sam thought of the trolls and the curse and Dean's near plummet off the cliff and the entire messed up situation. He thought of Dean's broken expression on the dock that afternoon.

"So?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, numb. "I'm going to give you space," he promised in a low voice.

"Good."

"I will," Sam said. "But on one condition. Don't shut me out forever, man."

"Oh, come on-"

"We just found each other again," he said. He leaned in pitching his voice low. "And you can't just pretend what we did in the sauna didn't happen. I don't know what to do about it, either, but we can't lose more of ourselves."

Dean's eyes blazed for a second but then he visibly made a decision not to engage. "Fine," he said again, and then reached past Ash for the platter of carrot sticks.

"Oh, hey man," said Ash, noticing Dean for the first time. "Nice threads."

Dean may have growled in response.

"Oh, there's Bela," Jo said, and raised a hand in a half wave across the room.

Bela, who had just entered in a slim, blue gown, made a beeline for where they were standing. Jo leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"You," Dean said.

"Evening," Bela said, and Jo seemed surprised.

"Oh, you know each other?"

Bela nodded. "Yes, they frequent the sauna."

"Your girlfriend stole my belt," Dean told Jo.

"Mine, too," Sam added, and remembered to tug his pants up by the belt loops.

Jo appeared untroubled at the news.

"I'm a business woman," Bela said with a shrug, then nodded to the front of the room. "The Princess is about to give a speech."

When Sam turned, Charlie was just climbing up onto a chair. Sam was thankful for the break in conversation, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Charlie beamed at the crowd and smoothed down the skirts of her pink and green party dress.

"Ahem," she began. And she had only just gotten out the words, "Honored guests and esteemed peasantry-" when the doors to the main hall slammed open, causinga man beside Sam to upset his drink.

All heads swivelled at the dramatic entrance.

A trumpet that sounded like a dying scream rang out and a woman stepped forward. A familiar woman dressed in a black leather doublet, a purple blouse, and heeled boots.

"Is that..." Charlie said. Behind her, Anna rubbed a finger over her temple.

Sam wondered for a moment if he'd known her before, if his memory of her had just been altered or erased, but then he saw that it was Meg, the suitor from a few weeks earlier.

The blast of the trumpets finally died down and Meg gave Charlie a little finger wave.

"Hiya, Princess," she said. "Long time no courting."

Her soldiers marched up behind her. Sam could make out a few dark riders and foot soldiers of surly disposition, the rest crowding in the large doors and into the hall.

"Meg," Anna said, an edge of warning to her voice.

"Yes, it's me, princess. The time I have given you for deliberation has passed. As I have not been contacted, I can only assume that Princess Charlie is in agreement with the terms of my offer."

"This should be good," Dean muttered next to him.

Charlie made an outraged sound, getting off her chair.

"For the last time," Anna said, in icy tones. "My sister is not getting married."

Meg smiled. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

As Anna glared at her, unmoved, the crowd burst into frenzied whispers. The dark soldiers shifted with a clanking and creaking of weaponry.

"Well, it seems I have no choice-" Meg began.

"Guards." Anna's tone was almost off-handed. She began to remove her silk gloves.

Sam felt queasy as he thought of what Anna's powers could do. After years on the mountain, Sam knew the destructive power of ice and cold, and Anna could use the two like a weapon with the merest thought.

The assembled guests seemed to be thinking the same thing, the murmuring of the crowd growing more furious.

But Charlie put a hand on her sister's arm.

"Anna," she said, stilling her.

And then one of Meg's archers, a pimply fellow with his bow held awkwardly at the ready, let loose a single arrow.

Whether the shot was purposeful or accidental, would perhaps remain a mystery. It flew straight and true, to strike the roast pig with a twang, dead in the backside.

The room fell instantly into chaos, peasants and nobles alike rushing forward with a roar.

"Hey, come on guys, no fighting," he heard Charlie yelling, but her voice was drowned out as Meg's soldiers raced forward to meet them.

To his right, Henriksen shouted for his men to draw their swords. Gordon, Duke of Walker, caught a charging soldier in a chokehold, throttling him with gusto. Jo pantsed one of Meg's men. While the soldier was shielding his heart boxers from the view of all, Bela swiped his fancy-looking shield, no doubt to sell in her shop.

Sam, weaponless, allowed a man to run into his fist, and then he stood there gaping from his fist to the unconscious man and back.

"Did I just...how did I…" he said, but then had the queer feeling that he'd done this before. That he was probably half good in a fight.

"Sam, come on," Dean said. He'd grabbed a long roll of bread and was thrusting it out in front of him like a sword.

Sam picked up a serving spoon and hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

With a guttural battle cry, Dean smacked a soldier around the head with the bread, and when the soldier got his bearings and began fighting furiously, Dean awkwardly pulled a sword from a fallen body, and hefted it like it was a stick. He used the flat side to smack the man on the ass.

Then, Sam lost sight of him as he was forced backward by two men swinging their swords in dangerous arcs. Sam gripped his spoon so tightly the metal nearly cut into his hand, watching the two advance.

"Forget this," he said, and flung the spoon away in favor of grabbing a chair, and when he turned back he saw he'd taken one of them out accidentally. Sam tossed the chair and the second man rolled out of the way, and was trampled by a woman in large petticoats.

"Ha!" he said, taking a pot top that had rolled off the table to clatter next to the unconscious soldier. "Weapons upgrade!"

He flung it at a soldier a ways away, wondering if maybe he should feel less exhilarated and more fear.

But there was no time to over think it, and he felt a thrill of victory when the pot top connected with his target's shoulder, causing him to drop his bow.

Sam dumped the contents of a silver platter off onto the ground and then threw it like a discus at an advancing soldier, who escaped by the skin of his teeth, ducking just in time to miss being sliced in two, but also appropriately scared into submission for the time being.

Taking a quick breather, Sam looked around at the fighting, seeing that the skirmish had quickly become a furious brawl, rather than the scuffle it had initially seemed. As Sam backed away, a back hit his.

"Not bad at all," Dean's voice said into Sam's ear. Sam twisted his head around and saw for a split second Dean's opponent doing a fancy parry to knock away the serving fork Dean had flung at him like a dagger.

"Yeah, well-" Sam was forced to concede, just before he sent a man flying into the dessert table. Brownies were ruined and cookies smashed flat, while the pink heart cupcakes he'd watched Jess frosting earlier tumbled in an avalanche, splatting one by one, frosting-side down.

Dean moaned when a pie smashed to gooey pieces at his feet.

"I was going to eat that," he said.

"Jess is going to kill us," Sam told him, then shouted, "Look out!"

Dean executed a perfect somersault, just in time to duck a man running at him with a sword. He kicked out his legs from where he'd landed, sending the man shooting over him to land in a heap by the sandwich table. Sam took a moment to admire his ninja abilities before doing a fancy dodge of his own, as a soldier ran by, skidding into the wall.

As they fought, Sam felt a burning joy at the back of his mind. It was invigorating. It felt like he was coming back to himself. He couldn't remember fighting a day in his life, but his movements became more certain as the moments ticked on, his and Dean's footwork growing more in sync. And if the flush on Dean's neck when he grinned at Sam a moment later, no holds barred, was enough to go on? Dean was enjoying himself, too.

"Not so bad yourself," Sam said, and then his own opponent sliced his fish clean through, so that Sam was left holding a tail. "It's possible I'm not very good at it," he said. Then ducked when Dean shouted, "Duck!"

He and Dean rolled to one side, just as their two opponents charged them. There came a mighty clang and when Sam got to his feet their soldiers were slumped unconscious next to the table leg.

The fight was over in ten minutes, tops. Most of Meg's soldiers were slumped on the floor, knocked out, the last one standing trying desperately to put out his coattails while the firebreathing man looked on and laughed.

Sam was seated on a felled soldier, barely out of breath, feeling bright with adrenaline.

Townspeople were picking themselves off the floor and dusting off skirts. Charlie was red faced with exhilaration, grinning as she gave a soldier's helmet a final, cheerful slap, and the floor was rent with dangerous sprays of ice from where Anna had kept soldiers away from her sister. One woman continued slapping a soldier around with a trout until her daughter took it from her and said to stop abusing the fish.

But it was Dean who Sam's eyes hooked on. Dean, whose grin was almost blinding as he remained standing on the coattail of the recently-downed soldier, saying, "How many times do I have to tell you?"

Sam's heart hurt in his chest with a certainty. Mine, it said. And I'm his. This was what it felt like to have a brother who he loved.

"This is some party," Dean said once the man agreed to stay down. He came to Sam and offered him an arm up.

Sam accepted, and rubbed at a cramp in his side.

"Well, that happened," he said.

"Yeah."

Sam cast around for something to say. Dean turned to look at him with a hot sort of intensity, and Sam stood straighter.

He felt himself flushing but stood his ground. He didn't know if he was going to be kissed or hit as Dean stepped in close.

He got neither. Dean punched a man out over Sam's shoulder then stepped away.

"There," Dean corrected with a wide grin. "Now, it's done."

He scooped up the amulet from where it was coiled by a chair leg, and put it over his head and tucking it beneath his shirt before turning to look around as well.

"You're not bad in a fight. Probably thanks to me," he said as an afterthought. "Probably taught you all you know."

Sam's mouth turned down. "Thanks."

While Dean bent to wipe something off his shoe, Sam turned to see Meg sputtering and sitting up. She ran a finger through the frosting covering her face.

"This is-" she said, and gave it a tentative taste. She scrunched up her face and the guessed, "Banana buttercream?"

"With toffee," Jess confirmed from where she was pulling a stained tablecloth back into place. She looked glumly at the wreckage of her masterpiece where it was now smashed on the floor. "And vanilla ice cream. It took two days to make, not to mention I paid three townschildren their weight in cheese to churn milk for ice cream."

Meg stood, but the fighting spirit seemed to have completely gone out of her. "It's the best frosting I've ever tasted," she said.

"Meg!" Charlie said, stomping up to her, face stormy.

Sam drew back, even though he was a safe ways away and not the target of Charlie's anger.

"You come into my party and ruin my fun?" she yelled, as everyone stared. It wasn't every day you saw your princess taking someone down a peg. "Think about the work we put into this! And the music? That man's tuba was used to tank one of your soldiers. He's still stuck in there. That instrument is ruined!"

"Apologies, Princess," Meg said, but she seemed to be more interested in salvaging a slice of the cake still on the tray.

Jess, however, had the decency to blush. "Apologies, highness," she said.

"Oh, right," Meg said, when Jess elbowed her. "I didn't come here actually expecting to fight, if that helps anything. I just thought a show of military numbers would impress you enough for you to say yes. Young Chuck here, is a fool."

"Deepest apologies," said the weak voice of the bowman who had started it all.

"You're a very good swordswoman, though," Jess told her. "I'm glad I could see it in action."

"Thanks," Meg said, and curtsied, before Charlie started yelling again.

"This is ridiculous," Anna observed, coming over to stand pleasantly beside Dean.

Dean shook his head.

"All is ridiculous in love and war," he said. "I learned that in a book."

Then his face clouded with confusion. "Or at least I think I learned it in a book. It's coming back slowly, so definitely don't quote me."

And that was the last Sam would see of him for the night, although Sam only turned his back for a second.

All exhilaration was quickly leaving him. The room was a mess, but the party didn't seem to be ruined. Meg's army was waking up, and joined the party guests clearing the floor of the mess they'd caused.

At a nearby table, Meg was laughing at something Jess whispered in her ear.

"You know," Meg told her as they left through the hall doors. "I've been planning on moving to these parts."

Jess put a hand on her hip. "I thought you said your lands were ‘glorious' and ‘awesome'."

"Yeah, but you kind of get sick of it being dark all the time," she explained.

Jess nodded, taking her arm. "Well, if you're ever in town for long…"

"I don't trust it," Charlie said, watching the two of them. "If she takes over my kitchens I'm going to be very upset."

Sam expected Dean to laugh at this, or at the very least comment, but when he turned to find look for him, Dean was no where in sight.

"Hey, has anyone seen-"

"He just left," said Ash, coming up next to him. "Took off."

"What? How do you know?"

Ash shrugged. "He asked me to give him the location of those coordinates? Well, I just gave him the location. You'd think he'd wait til morning for that kind of hike, but he's a newcomer." Ash paused, and looked worried for a moment. "Hope he doesn't catch frostbite up there."

Sam took him by the shoulder. "Ash, this is very important," he said. "Where is he going? What did the coordinates mean?"

"It's somewhere on the mountain. Maybe a day on foot? But if you have a ride, it's maybe-"

"-half a night's ride," Sam finished for him.

"Right. It looks like it's a little to the east of Bela's."

"How does everyone know Bela?" Sam muttered.

"She's my adoptive sister's fiancee, of course I know her. Also she's also my beer pong rival. Sam?"

Sam wasn't listening. He was wondering what he should do. Part of him thought, maybe he shouldn't follow Dean. Dean obviously wanted his own life, even if he didn't remember it.

"This isn't one of those freaky troll spells again, is it?" Ash asked.

"How do you-" Sam said.

Then he paused. Troll spells. Gothi hadn't even had to try to work out what he and Dean had been cursed with or how to fix it, he'd just known. What if it was the trolls who cursed them in the first place?

"Ash?" he said. "You're a genius."

"Any time, bro."

Charlie looked conflicted. "You know, Sam. If he's leaving like this... Maybe you should give him some space."

"I found out some stuff a few days ago," he told her. "Big stuff."

"You really think it's worth it?" Charlie asked him.

Sam didn't hesitate. "Definitely. But that doesn't matter anymore. I just need to get to him before he gets himself killed. Or memory thingied."

"Ok," Charlie said, and grabbed his arm and started pulling him along. "You got me at ‘killed'."



The soldier at the drawbridge was just waking up from being knocked out when Sam and Charlie ran up.

"Your Majesty," he said, lurching to his feet and then grabbing his head. He groaned. "Sorry your Majesty, what can I do for you?"

"It's no problem, Corbett. We've already dealt withthe army. Have you by any chance seen a guy in a man blouse leave the palace?" she asked, and held up a hand to measure against Sam's chin. "Yay high? Medium colored hair?"

The soldier was nodding, and telling Charlie, "Yeah, I've seen him. Ran out here, that way, not a quarter of an hour ago." He jerked a thumb toward the road.

"He was here," Sam said, bending to pick up a piece of folded parchment. He saw that it had been folded and refolded, like Dean had read it a hundred time.

"And he stole my horse," said the guard. "Did throw me this, though."

Sam knew, before the man even pulled out his hand, what Dean had given him. The amulet dangled and caught the moonlight, the guard's eyes filling with wonder as it spun.

"I think it's magic," he breathed.

Sam ripped it out of his hand.

"Hey!"

He threw down his last four coins, everything he had in his pockets, yelling, "Keep the change!"

"Sam, wait!" Charlie shouted after him. "You need a horse!" She looked around wildly. "That one, there!"

Sam looked to where she was pointing. "That's a donkey."

The donkey was half asleep on the drawbridge, flicking its ears every few moments and snorting.

"Yeah, Brandon always ties it up here," the guard said, shrugging. "We told him, time and again, don't block the foot traffic. Posted a sign and everything. I don't know. He's a sweet kid, but eh. Homeschooled."

"The stables are on the the other side of the castle," Charlie said. "Do you want to reach Dean before he does something stupid or not?"

Sam ran both his hands through his hair. "You're right. Of course you're right."

"Then go!"

He jumped on the donkey and kicked at its sides with the heels of his boots.

"Ya, donkey!" he cried. "Let's go!"

The donkey woke up, trying to rear, and then, sensing Sam meant business, took off at a steady amble.

"Good luck!" Charlie called behind him, but it was carried away by the loud clop of hooves to cobblestone and the roaring of purpose in his ears.

Sam was going to find Dean before he found the trolls, and before he was cursed for good.



Sam could drive the sled through sleeting snow and blizzards at 10% visibility and dodge trees at only three seconds notice, but he had never been what one would call a great horseback rider. He always felt precarious in his seat and held the reins too tightly.

So when he set off up the mountain on the donkey, it was at an awkward gait and not necessarily in a straight line.

"Come on, I can run faster than this," he said, nudging the donkey's sides.

He was glad to dismount when the going got too tough, the path too steep to keep riding.

"This is where we part ways," he said to the donkey. "But someone will come for you, I'll make sure of it."

He put the blanket back over it, and the donkey immediately fell asleep standing.

It was the blackest point of the night, an hour before dawn, when Sam reached the clearing. The clearing was darker than it ever seemed to be before, even on nights where the moon was new and all Sam had to see by was the distant light of the stars.

He stepped into the circle, blinking his eyes and trying to discern dark shapes from the dark surroundings.

"Hello?" he called out.

There was no welcoming rumble of stone of his adoptive family waking up to greet him, but he didn't expect there to be. This didn't seem to be home anymore. It felt like an empty patch of ground, with moss and dirt and ancient rock.

"Guys? It's me. It's me, Sam."

He stepped further into the clearing, eyes wide even though he couldn't see, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

"Dean?"

There was no sound, no stirring of wind even. Nothing to warn him before he tripped over something large and went flying.

"Ooph." He landed on his arm, and skidded on the cold ground.

He scrambled to his feet again, trying to see what was lying on the ground. He rubbed at his chest, feeling winded.

"Dean?" he asked hopefully in the dark. His voice shook when he said it and there was no response.

He had the sudden, terrible image of Dean, lying dead in the center of the clearing, and he felt real desperation bubbling up inside him. He was too late, he thought. Dean was already gone.

It wasn't Dean, that much became clear as a shape rose in the darkness, snuffling and groaning like a bear.

Sam froze, stilling every muscle, holding his breath. He listened as intently as he could, wondering if it would be stupid to back away.

He truly, desperately hoped that it wasn't a bear. He hadn't been truly afraid on the mountain in as long as he could remember. But the silhouette of a giant beast rising out of the dark, unknown and groaning, was enough to chill his blood.

The monster shuffled forward. Sam stayed stock still, goosebumps prickling up on his skin. He thought, if he was going to die, it was only right that it would be here on the mountain. He tried to resign himself to it. He was ready to grapple with it, he decided, to go down swinging. To die bloody.

The words came to him, a memory. He remembered suddenly, Dean coming to find him. Dean saying, "I can't do this alone."

Sam didn't want to, either. Regret was useless, now, at this moment before death, but he wished he could remember everything, to savor in these last seconds.

And then the thing jostled into him and brayed in familiar, nasal tones.

Sam took a harsh breath, able to breathe again.

"Sven?" he said, although it seemed too good to be true.

And when he squinted, he saw that the enormous silhouette could in fact belong to the hulking body of a reindeer.

His heart was racing, beating so hard in his chest from fear and the possibility that his reindeer was still alive. Tentatively and against his better judgement, Sam reached out a hand, and his hand met short, velvet fur.

Sven's nose knocked his hand, and Sam knew for certain. He lunged forward and threw his arms around him, burying his face in Sven's neck.

"I missed you," he said, pressing close as Sven ducked his head over Sam's shoulder. "I missed you so much. Don't ever do that again."

There came another pathetic bleating, this one a bit more indignant. Sven pawed at the ground and knocked into Sam a couple times, almost as if he was trying to communicate something. But if he was, Sam had a snowball's chance of figuring out what it could be. As Sven was a reindeer and couldn't speak, he reminded himself.

"People still smell better than reindeers, but I really have missed you, you big oaf. And boy do I have a lot to tell you. You picked a bad time to go off and do whatever it is you were up to."

Sven licked Sam's cheek aggressively and Sam ducked away.

"Yeah, don't give me that innocent act," Sam said. "You left me to drag about a ton of ice down the mountain by myself. And then I met this guy..."

He broke off, thinking of Dean's stupid face, of everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"An important guy," he said, quieter. "He was so stupid, Sven. It's all so stupid."

Sven brayed angrily and Sam sidestepped when Sven tried to knock into him again.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm upset about it, too."

Sam went and sat with his back against a boulder, resting his arms uselessly on his bent knees and Sven came to settle next to him, putting his head down on his front paws and huffing sadly.

"You know," Sam said, because talking to Sven always made him feel much better. "Dean probably never came up here. He probably chickened out."

Sven squawked and Sam pet his head. Yeah, Dean wasn't going to come demand retribution from the trolls. He'd left, went off to make a new start. And meanwhile, Sam had found Sven.

"Which is a good thing, because I think something bad would have happened to him. He's actually smarter than I thought." He sighed, and said. "Guess it doesn't run in the family."

He still couldn't see, and the clearing felt very lonely, but there was nothing compared to the relief of knowing his brother, his real brother, was safe and sound, with him on the mountain where they belonged.

"Maybe I can go back to the way things are supposed to be," he whispered.

It was then that Sven whinnied and scrambled up. Sam was on his feet instantly. He had learned to trust his instincts.

It was then that clearing began to glow with the luminescent white of a hundred eyes. The trolls had awakened.

"Uh, guys?" Sam said, his voice wobbling. He thought of how just a short a time ago he had trusted them with his life. Now that he knew what they'd done - erased who he was, who Dean was, he knew what they were capable of and willing to do. He felt real trepidation.

The trolls rolled up, menacingly.

"Stay back," he warned, holding up his fists as if that would do anything.

The trolls ground to a halt anyway.

"Maybe he shouldn't remember," whispered one. "He doesn't seem to want to know."

A baby troll spoke, her pink crystal necklace lighting. "Maybe it's better this way. Leave them in the dark."

There were so many of them. Sam realized then that there was no way both he and Sven were going to make it. He had to get he and his reindeer out of there.

"Sven," he cried, shoving him in the solid shoulder as hard as he could. "Run away while I distract them."

Sven only swayed on his feet, holding his ground.

Sam took the amulet from his pocket and slung it over Sven's head for good luck. The reindeer bleated, but Sam grabbed him by the muzzle so he was forced to look him in the eye.

He tried to communicate as best he could when he said, "Go live a happy life, Sven. Don't forget me."

Then, he kissed him on the cheek.

A blinding light blazed forth, and Sam was thrown back into the snow, elbows scraping against the ground so that his jacket ripped.

The world went swimmy, and he blinked the dazzle out of his eyes, struggling to his feet, coughing and clutching his stomach where he'd landed. Everything was green and shadowed, the trolls glowing just bright enough to see. The entire clearing was now visible, and he couldn't see Sven anywhere.

"Sven!" he cried when he could breathe again, but there was no answer. He swung around to fix the trolls with a glare. "What have you done?"

"We have done nothing," said Gothi, waddling forward.

"He's dead. You killed him." Sam clutched himself around the middle. "I've lost everything."

Sven, and Dean too, maybe. It was all too much.

"Sam," said Aunt Agate. "You have not lost Dean."

She rolled forward, as if to comfort him, but stopped when he held up his fists again.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? What did we ever do to you?"

"Sam, calm your mind," Gothi said. "It's Dean. He has been with you this entire time."

"You're lying. He came here and you killed him. And you killed Sven, too."

"We never took him from you. We merely did what we needed to survive."

"You ruined my life," Sam whispered. "All you've ever done is lie to me and kill the people and animals I love."

"Boy!" Gothi shouted, putting his foot down with an echoing slap. "Your brother is alive!"

"But what about Sven?" he said.

Inexplicably, Gothi gave Sam a look like he was an idiot.

"When you came to this town, you were with your brother," Gothi told him with the air of one telling a fairy tale. And even though Sam knew that the trolls were liars, he stopped to listen. "You were sent to kill us and we cast the spell upon you, yes, but we only did what we had to to stay alive. The magic was not supposed to be a curse, but a blessing in disguise."

Sam's head was swimming. As Gothi spoke, he could make out moments of this in his memory, like shadows, shades of the truth surfacing.

"How was all of this a blessing?" he said, anger rising again.

"It should give you what your heart desired."

"So I wanted to be alone? Away from everyone I loved?"

"On the contrary, you yearned for independence. You wanted to be happy and free to make your own choices. And more than anything, you wanted to be your brother."

"And Dean? What did this spell do to him?" Sam snarled.

Gothi said, "Dean was transformed into a reindeer."

This was followed by an awkward silence.

"A...wha?" Sam managed.

"Yes, Dean is Sven and Sven is Dean," Aunt Agate told him. "And only true love's kiss could break the spell."

Crickets chirped.

"Oh god," Sam said, putting a hand over his mouth.

What they were saying was impossible.

But the clues clicked into place, one by one. The similar mannerisms, the amulet, the way he'd felt drawn to Dean and how they'd clicked instantly, obscenely easily- And his memories of his childhood and life up until now made eerie sense when he supplanted Sven with Dean.

Dean was the piece that had been missing this whole time.

There came a groan behind him. In pain, familiar.

Sam froze. "Dean?" he breathed, his voice no more than a puff of breath in the cold air.

He turned as Dean rolled out of a snow drift and got to his knees, naked and shivering. The amulet swung from his neck. Sam remembered giving it to him when they were young, wrapped in scraps of parchment he'd saved, tied with fishing twine, their fingers brushing as he passed the parcel over his knee, the look on Dean's face when he'd opened it. He'd been so happy.

"I'll kill you," Dean breathed, standing to his full height.

The trolls knocked one another restlessly, frowning at Dean. Sam took a deep breath, a brief moment of relief that Dean was alive, before he realized that Dean was going to attack the trolls. He might not be alive for that much longer.

"No, stop!" Sam shouted.
.
"Not the time, Sam," Dean said, reaching around slowly to grab for a fallen tree branch in the snow.

"Dean," Sam said. "Don't hurt them."

Dean wheeled on him, wide-eyed. "Are you completely insane? Haven't you worked it out, yet - it was them! They cursed us!"

"I know," said Sam. "But they don't deserve it."

"Listen to yourself, Sam. With everything we know, with everything we probably will never know, because they've screwed with our heads, erased our memories. And now you want me to let them go? They're monsters, Sam."

Sam's head was so messed up. He knew his memory of growing up here wasn't true, but he still loved this mountain, loved this life. And he knew that nothing good would come of more heartbreak.

"Don't," Sam said. When he didn't say anything else, Dean laughed, a hollow, terrible sound.

"They made me forget my own brother. That's evil in my book. Not to mention Dad sent us handwritten instructions to kill them. I may not remember much, but I know this in my gut."

Sam stepped toward him. "Exactly. Dad sent you here, right? Kill them?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"But they hadn't done anything, Dean. Look, they're old. Older than old. Living in this forest since before humans were even a thought."

"We're not that old," said one troll, but another shushed him.

"In all my time here, I've never seen them do anything evil," said Sam, working it through in his head. "Just-defensive. Like they said, they were just protecting themselves. From us, Dean."

Dean didn't look convinced, but he wasn't interrupting either, so Sam went on.

"They're just protecting themselves, so you gotta spare them. We're the ones who attacked them, not the other way around. They could've killed us but they didn't, so don't do it." He took another step closer. "That's what will make you a real hero this time."

"I'm not trying to be a hero," Dean said, and started for the trolls.

Sam turned to see the trolls rolling up on top of one another, to begin intoning something loud and incomprehensible. He knew without a doubt, that if Dean attacked them, he'd die.

Sam ran before he had time to think, grabbing Dean by his bare arm and jerking him against his chest.

"Well, maybe you should," he said, and dragged Dean in for a kiss.

He shielded his eyes as lights blazed, smoke and sparkles like firecrackers exploding in the clearing. Dean shouted something, but Sam couldn't see, couldn't hear, as cloying coils of smoke and the chanting of the trolls obscured his senses.

Distorted images swam to the forefront of Sam's mind. Dean as himself, handing him a sandwich with the crusts cut off. Sam wrestling him to the bottom of a shallow lake before they kicked to the surface. That night where they lit an entire field on fire, and Dad made them apologize to the farmer whose crops they'd ruined and then work all summer to pay for the damage. All those memories he thought he had of Sven were real, but it hadn't been Sven at all.

The memories came faster after that. His entire history in images, snippets of feeling and strong emotion. Dean shooting a deer while their dad gave him pointers, Sam shivering and barefoot in the wet grass trying to catch fireflies. And then more recent memories. Sam and Sven, Dean in reindeer form, sleeping peaceably and warm, together in the shed by the sauna. Sam strumming some tune, half remembered, on his lute under the summer stars with not a care in the world, not one.

And when his vision finally cleared, the sun was cresting the trees and the sky was a radiant pink. He and Dean were holding onto each other for dear life, and the clearing was empty, all trace of the trolls gone.

Dean's hair was spiked out everywhere, but he was smiling, still shivering. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"What, no thanks?" Sam said. "After I saved your life?"

"Dude, I'm the one who rode through the night on a terrifying mission. You just came up late to do damage control."

"You should have seen your face," Sam said.

"It's not every day someone tries to lay down the kiss of true love."

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, gathering his scattered clothing.

Sam's head felt clear, the world full of endless opportunity.

"Dean," he said. "We have to find Dad."

Dean pulled on his pants and then his shirt. "Yeah. But after that...I also want to come back here." His eyes were bright and Sam felt a tugging in his heart when Dean said, "I like it."

"Good," Sam said, and grabbed him by the empty belt loop to tug him close. "We can do both."

They would never see the trolls again. Sam realized this without a doubt. And when he and Dean left the clearing, he thought he heard a faint whisper in the trees.

"Goodbye."



"You weren't kidding when you said she liked parties," Sam said to Anna a couple days later.

They were gathered in the main hall, the doors and windows flung open wide to let the sunshine in. Giant arrangements of bright wildflowers and roses of every color were being placed in all possible corners and the chandelier was getting a tune-up.

"She's planning on having one a week." Anna said, eyes despairing. "She has a schedule."

"That sounds..intense."

"Yes. I heard her singing about it."

"Sam and Dean can't just leave without a proper sendoff," Charlie insisted, arriving with an armful of tulips.

"We're coming back," Sam reminded her, but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Dean came in then, groaning and dragging a to-scale ice sculpture Anna had created to commemorate their adventures. "Hey, Princess. Where do you want this?"

"Here's fine."

Sam looked up at the statue, into the face of his longtime friend and colleague, Sven. An icy tongue was hanging out of his open mouth, dripping with condensation.

"My antlers were pretty epic," Dean said, putting his hands on his hips, still panting with exertion. He nudged Sam with his elbow until Sam nodded, leaning into the touch.

"You were also super clumsy and smelled terrible," he told him. "I was there."

"Aw, you miss it."

Sam shrugged, smirking. "Eh, you're a good consolation prize."

Standing with his friends in the castle, afternoon sunlight brightening the room, he thought about their upcoming journey. He thought about leaving Anna and Charlie, the folks at Harvelle's, and Jess and her obnoxious girlfriend. He thought about all the other people he'd learned to love in Arendelle who'd made his life, real or otherwise, what it was.

"Nice threads," he said to Dean. "You dress up or something?"

"That would be thanks to me," Crowley said, passing with an elderly, bearded gentleman on his arm.

Sam frowned. "Hey, does he look-"

"Familiar, yeah," Dean agreed, squinting after them. "Maybe we know him."

Their memories were still filtering back. There were still pieces of the puzzle resolving themselves, and one day soon, Sam hoped, the picture would be whole.

"Hey. What are you smiling about?" Dean asked.

"Ah, you know," Sam said. "I got my brother, my sweet ride-"

"Thanks to me," Dean pointed out. "New paint job and everything."

"- and the promise of daring sword fights in the near future. What's not to love?"

"This is going to be awesome," Dean agreed.

It wasn't happily ever after, Sam thought as Dean dragged him into an alcove to make out until the party started. It was better.