Prompts 25 - 28 from the table "Paranormal" for spn_30snapshots
Title: "Closer to the Edge"
Authorthe_milky_way
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester (Sam/Dean)
Theme: 03 Paranormal
Prompt(s): 25. Holy, 26. Hell, 27. Demons, 28. Purgatory and additional prompt
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4.948
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and Warner. I don't own anything.
Warnings: slight spoilers for 5.22
Beta: Thank you, akintay
Summary: Sam survives Hell but he isn't alive, not until he has to go back and see the one person that always could make him feel.
Can you imagine a time when the truth ran free
The birth of a song and the death of a dream
Closer to the edge
This never ending story
Paid for with pride and fate
We all fall short of glory
LOST IN OUR FATE
Pain, blinding and hot, travelling down his spine, setting his skin on fire. It’s almost unbearable but he hangs on to the last threats of his consciousness. His mind is blank save for the thoughts about not giving up, fighting it. Whatever it is.
He can’t remember. There is a purpose, something to hold on to, something that’s waiting for him, wanting him back. He just doesn’t know what it is. Down here - and he knows he’s somewhere way down - it’s just pain and suffering.
It’s nothing like he’d imagined. Nothing at all. There is no real awareness most of the time, just pain. Constant and just there. Torture, mind games and the screams around him echoing in his mind.
He screams along with everyone else. For how long? He doesn’t know anymore. Because there are no seconds to count, no feeling of ‘how long’, no end at all. No beginnings, no endings. Things just go on and on. That’s all he knows these days. He isn’t even sure if it’s just days and not weeks, months even. There is no time here.
Hot fire, sulphur in the air, darkness and flashes of bright pain and changing scenarios are all there is. Images changing so often that there is no chance of getting used to them or to even comprehend what’s going on.
Sometimes he thinks it’s all so very clichéd. It’s like one would imagine Hell. This is hell as it’s described in the scriptures, in every book and poem you can find on earth. It’s everything he’s ever imagine and it’s not. Because it’s all just in his head. His mind being flooded by pictures, ideas, feelings that aren’t his.
It’s all just in his mind.
***
When Lucifer lets go, when Sam has a chance to just be, to exist outside of the grip Lucifer has on him, things look stunningly different. Lucifer’s grip on Sam’s soul isn’t as strong as it was topside. Down here boundaries blur and distinctions aren’t as clear anymore. When Sam is awake, hanging on and trying to remember why he shouldn’t, under no circumstances, stop fighting, things look more like the golden room Zachariah had them in than anything even close to hell.
This is even worse han hell itself could ever be. At least for Sam.
His freedom only ever lasts for seconds, maybe minutes, but not much longer. He takes everything in when he can, when he isn’t too beaten, too drained. These are the only times Sam can even think of trying to preserve his sanity, his humanity. He can gain strength to fight, to not give up.
There is hope again when he realizes that Lucifer needs these breaks as well to recompose, to get away from Michael. Michael who is still down here as well. Just glances Sam can sneak of the archangel are sometimes enough to make Sam hold on just a little longer. Just these looks Michael sends him, the small smile when he seems to know it’s Sam and not his brother are enough.
Sam thinks that Michael looks holier every time he gets to see him. Mightier, stronger, even down here. There is no reason why this should happen but Sam’s given up questioning it a long time ago… or it was just yesterday.
Michael speaks to him, tells him to hang on, to listen, to never stop fighting. And Sam listens because Michael’s voice is the only thing he hears that isn't screams or a mocking imitation of a voice he loves so very much. Michael keeps reminding him.
***
Michael keeps reminding him of why Sam’s down here, what he did and how it shouldn’t have been possible. Michael tells him how strong Sam turned out to be, unexpected by most but not by one. He tells Sam to never forget this one person, the reason why he’s down here, why he took that leap, why he did it all.
Sam doesn’t forget. Sam never forgets even when it gets harder to hear Michael’s voice and the times Lucifer lets go grow shorter and less frequent. Lucifer is getting stronger again, adapting to life in hell again or to whatever it is you do down here. The longer they are caught the fewer words Michael uses, the less preaching they become.
No reminders anymore, just encouragement. Until there is only one word left. The one word that will always be holy to Sam.
Dean.
Michael starts saying it every time Sam wakes up, becomes aware and opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t know and doesn’t get.
Dean.
That one word, this is everything that’s holy to Sam. Holier than his own life, holier even than the life of his little brother. Sam doesn’t even flinch anymore when he looks at Michael. Adam is back in heaven and that’s good enough for Sam to feel just a little less guilty.
Dean.
It becomes Sam’s safe word. His bible in a way. It tells him everything he needs to know and needs to remember, everything he needs to achieve. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see Dean again, doesn’t think he’ll ever have the chance to tell Dean how much he loved him. But Dean, just the word, the image it projects, is enough for Sam to bear his punishment. It’s enough for now and Sam hopes it’ll be enough for a long time.
Dean means life, survival, redemption, forgiveness and maybe even salvation. Sam doesn’t know how long it takes for him to finally get it but when Lucifer lets him go one final time Sam screams. Screams ‘Dean’ with all he has left, baring his soul, himself. Lays everything open.
And then just waits.
***
The last thing he sees is Michael’s proud smile, the encouragement in the archangel’s eyes.
Sam gets it now. So he screams again and lets it all go.
Then something tugs at him, slowly at first but building in strength. Not painfully, just getting stronger and stronger. Sam waits for Lucifer to take over again. Waits. Torn, afraid, hopeful and encouraged. Broken though.
Then he screams again. It’s like something is being ripped out of him, hard and painful. Very hard. He screams and screams, and then blinks. Everything is standing still, silence deafening and so loud. Nothing moves.
One last pull. Just one and Sam is standing outside a house, under a flickering street lamp. Nothing was ripped from him, he was ripped away from someone, out of somewhere.
The ground is wet and dark but it’s holy ground to Sam right now.
***
Sam just stands there and watches. Doesn’t get close and doesn’t leave either. He took a promise from Dean and he won’t be the one breaking it.
So Sam just watches. For a long time. Wonders what he’s supposed to do now. There isn’t really anything he can think of. There is no purpose in his life anymore.
This is not hell. This is so much worse in so many ways that Sam wonders why he’s been brought back, what he’s needed for now. All he can do is let Dean live his new life and let him go.
“You could always go back to what you know. Save people, hunt things. Family business.”
Sam doesn’t turn, no need to, he knows who it is. Has the voice still in his head.
“Not so much a family anymore.”
He keeps on watching Dean through the window, even smiles a little at the sight of his brother fighting with the steak on his plate. Sam frowns though when Dean just gives up, slumps forward and just goes for the glass of whiskey instead. Sam’s disturbed that he hadn’t even noticed the glass being there.
“You sure about that? Are you sure that this what you want? What Dean wants?”
Sam snorts. Because what he wants and what Dean wants has always been slightly different. Well, at least ever since Sam realized that he couldn’t have what he wanted. They’ve sort of grown apart since then, in their wants and wishes.
Dean wants a life, Sam knows this. Dean wants a life where he gets acknowledged, loved for the person he is. Deans wants his brother to be safe. To be alive. Dean will always be the one to sacrifice everything and not ask for something in return. It’s time that someone does the same for him, that some allows Dean to live a life.
Sam wants the same things, wants his brother to be safe and happy. But he also wants more. So much more. Has been wanting things he can never have ever since he turned 13 and wanted to rip Amanda Hayes’ lips away from Dean’s because it should have been Sam kissing Dean.
“Dean wants it. I'm just granting him the chance. I’ll do everything to make him happy.”
Even to his ears it sounds hollow, like the lie it is. He knows, just knows, that Dean’s only doing this, this try at life away from hunting, because he promised Sam. Dean’s only doing it for Sam and not himself.
Sam secretly hopes that Dean finds something worthy in his new life, something he can hold on to and can finally make him happy. Sam wants him to have that chance. If not now then when? So Sam will stay away, won’t destroy this one chance Dean has now.
“It’s for the best. What do you want anyway?” Sam wonders when he started to sound so resigned.
A slight breeze gracing his skin, making him shiver, is all indication he gets that they aren’t alone anymore. Sam doesn’t turn this time either. Still no need to, because he knows. He listens though, careful and alert.
“Brother.”
“Castiel. I assume you’ve heard the chime? I was seeing if Samuel needed any help with adjusting to life again. It’s astounding what a little faith and a lot of love can do. What one word can achieve. Free a pure soul from hell.”
“Indeed.”
Sam’s not sure he believes Michael. It was, still is, too simple. Too smooth. It can’t be just that, just him freeing himself. He’s not that strong. Never was. Almost everything he has done during the last few years is proof of this. And really, it never works this easily. Not for him.
Never.
“Love does many things, Samuel. Never doubt your love. It was strong enough to pull you out, put you back. Never question it. If it was evil, something tainted, you wouldn’t be here right now. It saved the world, Sam.”
It can’t be. Never would an archangel give his blessing to something like this, to what Sam’s been feeling for most of his adult life.
Another breeze, slight but enough to tell Sam this conversation is over. It sends shivers down his spine and Sam gasps a little. He feels a chill, feels his chest constrict and thoughts are settling into places, spaces of his mind, where they haven’t been allowed before.
Michael is gone but Sam’s not alone. He still doesn’t know why he’s back, what purpose he has now.
One last look at the window, at his past, his life, at the love he’ll never be able to claim, and Sam turns.
“Let’s go, Cas. Guess we’ve got work to do.”
***
Sam still thinks he’s doing the right thing, thinks that Dean deserves a shot at life. Now, though, there is something skipping in his chest whenever he thinks of Michael’s words, something that feels a little like hope.
He refuses to think about it though, to let himself dwell on it.
This suddenly doesn't feel so much like hell anymore. It's a new chance for him as well. It’s not heaven or the peace that he wanted either, that he deserved after all. But he’s alive, living, and maybe has a reason to go on again.
Sam will look out for his brother; will make sure that Dean’s new life is safe, not threatened by the things out there. For once in his life he can be the one looking out for Dean.
***
Sam hunts.
Precisely and effectively. Hones his skills and builds contacts. There is a network now, something he can get back to to seek information. He has his own car now, stacked with everything he needs thanks to Bobby.
It’s not home, though. It can never be. But it gets him places, gets him close to home once or twice. Because home is somewhere Sam can’t get back to. Not now, maybe not ever.
Sam knows Cas checks up on Dean, vanishes and comes back with a look in his eyes Sam can’t interpret. He never thinks it’s just Castiel not knowing how to convey human emotions. But Sam can’t hear about it, won’t listen. Can’t bear it. It hurts too much, still.
Michael hasn’t been back and Sam can’t say he misses him. One manipulative angel less to care about. Yes, Michael helped him, made him see and fight. But that doesn’t mean Michael didn’t have an agenda of his own.
Sam’s had a lifetime enough of head games and trickery.
Right now he has his hands full with rogue demons anyway. Apparently heaven and hell are in uproar, in chaos, unable to straighten things out again. Demons, left behind, roam the surface, leave traces of destruction, decay, sorrow and blood.
It’s the blood Sam can smell and see, blood that is not tempting. Blood that means a life lost, a failure to Sam. It’s all he can do anymore, save people, have a purpose. Blood spilled is a sign that he isn’t doing his job.
He knows he’s hard on himself, doesn’t rest much, doesn’t try to stick around after things are done. He doesn’t settle, doesn’t look for something for himself. Sam misses Dean. More with every day, every week that passes. The pain of not knowing, the ache in his chest, the fact that some part of himself is missing, is a constant reminder, constantly present in the back of his mind.
Sam is relentless. It reaches the point where he can exorcise a demon a week, sometimes even several at a time. He doesn’t need many books these days, knows a lot of words, spells even; knows the sigils. Sometimes he smiles at the voice in his head calling him a geek. It always, always sounds like Dean.
His muscles, his body, get used to the repetitive movements. Sense memory saves his life more than once. Pain dulling the ache in his chest. Pain and exhaustion become his state of being, the condition he’s in. His mind isn’t any better.
Exorcisms become kind of soothing. A routine in a way Sam never expected it to be. Sam’s moving with a purpose now, moving through demons like a hot knife through butter. Castiel is there, not constantly, not always helping but sort of watching over Sam anyway. In his own unique way.
Sam goes on like this until he doesn’t know anything else anymore. He doesn’t live, he hunts.
Hunting is his life.
He fulfills his basic needs, same as he did when Dean was in hell, but not as frantic anymore. There is no urgent desperation, just determination. There is no superior masterplan. There is no demon trying to entice him using images of Dean Sam could never have and Sam’s own guilt against him.
Sam’s weaknesses are still there, could still be exploited, only Sam doesn’t allow them to show anymore. Demons still taunt him, offer blood and power; know who he is. Sam’s living his life so single-mindedly that those words mean nothing to him anymore. They don’t reach him, don’t touch him.
Demons still threaten Dean. They don’t succeed for a long time, can’t get through Sam.
Until they do.
Until they do and force Sam to face the truth. The one truth he’d been trying to avoid ever since he started this life, this crusade.
Whatever Sam does, Dean will never be completely safe, not with the things out there and not with Sam staying too far away from him.
The second Sam stops the car in front of the house he knows he won’t be able to leave this time.
***
If not knowing if he’d ever get out of hell, ever see Dean again, was hell, then seeing Dean and not being able to talk to him is purgatory. Fire and still not hell, the one thing Sam won’t be able to stop.
Sam waits for the inevitable, waits for the demon to show, waits for the face off. He wants to kill the bastard before Dean even knows he was there. Thoughts are whirling, images are back from where Sam had buried them. Not buried deep enough.
Everything is there again when he finally sees Dean stepping out of the house. He lays eyes on his brother for the first time in a year, feels his heart step up a beat, feels his hands getting clamming and start to shake.
Dean looks the same and then he doesn’t. There is resignation in every move, a lingering sadness Sam’s never seen before. He has to keep himself from just getting out of the car and walking up this brother. He remembers Michael’s words then, about love.
Sam frowns, watches his brother and still doesn’t believe that his wants, his thoughts right then and there won’t send him straight back to hell. Sam’s actually pretty sure that nothing can and will redeem him from lusting after his brother, from being so completely in love with Dean that he’ll do anything, everything to keep him safe. Alive.
Sam’s doesn’t get the chance to dwell on what Dean would say, do to him if he ever found out because Sam’s suddenly out of the car and pinned against it. Arm across his throat, pressure making it hard for him to breathe. He’s been distracted, stupid, didn’t see Dean move. Zoning out with Dean close has never been a good idea and never will be a good idea.
Dean’s so close. So angry. It hurts, is overwhelming, makes Sam dizzy with relief and anxiousness. It hurts to refrain himself from surging up and kissing Dean. Hurts so much to not let go.
“Who are you?” Voice a low growl, menacing and dangerous. Sam has missed that so much.
“Shapeshifter? Demon? What? You stalking me?”
Sam can’t talk. Mostly due to Dean’s arm against his throat but also because he emotions and feelings are threatening to take the better out of him, are crashing down on him.
Sam’s choking on tears, relief and guilt before he knows what’s happening.
Dean blinks, confused, frowns and pulls back a little, arm never leaving Sam’s throat though. Ever the hunter, always cautious. Sam’s proud.
Tears a flowing freely now, falling onto skin and clothes. Sam can’t do anything to stop them, doesn’t want to. It feels surprisingly good to just let go then and there. With Dean holding him up and close.
They stay like this, frozen, looking, disbelieving.
Shock registers and emotions become visible. More than ever before. There’s anger, deep rooted within the soul. Relief, so stark that green eyes shine with it. There is happiness, clear and strong. There is pure disbelief. There is Dean looking at Sam.
Sam can see it all while he lies pinned against the car and just stares at Dean.
“That… No. You.. No.” Dean almost sobs, voice rough and pained. And all Sam manages to do is lift a hand and touch. Touch Dean, skim fingers over rough stubble and hot skin; feels the way Dean draws away even further. Something sings through his fingers when he touches some more, when he refuses to let Dean go.
Then Dean is gone, standing a few feet away now and looking at Sam with something akin to wonder mixed with a lot of confusion and anger. It hurts but it’s expected. The arm has left Sam’s throat but he still can’t breathe properly. Dean’s three feet away, back turned, when Sam starts to react.
He gasps out loud and is shocked by his own voice. Hasn’t heard it in days when he really thinks about it. Then there is water dripping down his face. Holy water. And Sam laughs.
“’M not a demon. Just here to kill one.”
“Sam?” Disbelief. Still and overwhelmingly present.
“Uh.. Hi?”
“How? Sam? How?” Dean shouts, takes a step closer again. It feels violent, aggressive, like Dean doesn’t really know how to deal, how to react. He probably doesn’t. Not even Sam knows.
“Dunno. Michael, I guess. He didn’t tell. One minute I was down and screaming, the next I was up and well.. doing nothing really.” Sam shrugs, feeling awkward, unsure. Nothing much to say or do, he wants to just stand there, stare at Dean, take him in. He’s got no idea why he says it but when he does he thinks it’s the right thing.
“I.. wanted you to have a chance.”
“What?” Dean blinks again.
“A chance at a normal life. That’s why I didn’t… I didn’t tell you. Couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? How long, Sam? Huh? How long?” Now Dean sounds really angry, sounds the way Sam expected him to. Angry, pissed even.
Hurt.
“Dean….”
“No, Sam! No. How long?”
“A few months... Close... close to a year.” Sam feels like a coward, feels like he deserves everything Dean will unleash him. He waits.
“A year? So what? You let me believe that you were dead to give me a chance at a normal life? Did I get that right?” Dean’s right in his face, snarling, spitting with rage and all Sam can do is take it. He deserves it all.
“Dean… I…”
“Yeah.. no. Fuck you, Sam. If it’s really you. I mean it's in the middle of the night, so who knows. My so-called normal life has been and is hell, Sam. Hell, because my little brother is dead and I’m not with him. Hell, because I realized how much actually need him after he was gone. Hell, Sam. So fuck you.”
Sam hears the emphasis on the name, knows Dean doesn’t believe him. Not yet. And then Dean’s gone. Back into the house Sam came to associate with his brother. Out of Sam’s life again. Leaving Sam standing there, clueless and lost. Sad, confused and not knowing what to do now.
Sadness settles over him like a layer, like a blanket over his mind. It hurts, seeing Dean walk away and Sam’s surprised he can feel it. Pain has been such a constant that he hadn’t thought he could still feel it. Still feel it so raw and sudden within him.
A stab in his heart has him clutching his chest and then there is the sob Sam has been trying to suppress. Violent and sudden, shaking his body, making Sam slide down to the ground. He feels stones dig into his leg through the jeans, doesn’t care, even appreciates the stab of reality. He feels hitches and hiccups, feels the wetness on his cheeks. He doesn’t hear anything though.
Everything is eerily silent, even his sobs.
***
Closer to the Edge
Just a slight breeze around Sam’s head, on his skin. A slight breeze is rustling the leaves and he leans against the car and closes his eyes. Lost, that’s what he feels. Lost and lonely. He’s had it all and he made the wrong move.
He shouldn’t let go like this, shouldn’t lose it like this. He’s on a hunt after all. There is a demon to be killed, a brother to be protected, a love to be kept safe. Sam just needs a minute… or two. Needs to get his head back straight.
Only, Sam can’t move. Is frozen, unable to even blink. If he’d be looking in from the outside he’d call himself catatonic. Just sits there and stares into the darkness, clueless about what to think, what to do. Lets tears fall and breaths hitch. Just lets go.
“Sammy?”
Sam’s unsure about the time span, how long he sat there breaking down, doesn’t know how long his mind mourned a lost love. He blinks his eyes open, crusted with tears and swollen, sniffling a little, trying not to use his sleeve to wipe his face. Dean’s back.
Dean’s right there, crouching down right in front of Sam, looking a little more relieved, convinced and less angry.
“Dean?” Sam tests his voice, knows he sounds weak, questioning.
“Oh, Sammy.”
Then Sam’s being pulled into strong arms, feels safe and protected again, loved and home. He feels home for the first time in a really long while. Smells Dean and memories; feels like himself again, like he’s whole again. He’s Sammy again, not just Sam, the hunter.
“Sssh, Sammy. It’s gonna be okay.”
Big brother mode. Sam savors it, takes it all in.
“There.. there’s a demon. Hunting you. It’s my fault but I’ll get it. Protect you. I.. I’ll be gone after… if you.. “ Sam shrugs, no idea how to go on, how to dig a deep enough hole to hide in. But then Dean speaks, low, gentle, reassuring.
“I know you will protect me. I know, Sam.” It’s spoken into his hair. Dean’s still holding him close, cradles Sam in his arms and is sitting next to him on the ground now. Sam feels like he's five, like he’s starting anew, learning how to be a little brother, how to be a brother, all over again. Learning how to be close to Dean, hoping for the chance to go on with it.
In this moment Sam loves Dean more than he ever has before. No impure thoughts, no desire, just love. Deep and strong.
“I love you,” he says. Loud, clear, through his tears and hitching breath. Holds on to the sound of it, to the sound of his voice carrying it into the night. Has never felt like it’s the truth before, now it’s everything and all he wants to say.
“I know you do,” Dean answers quietly, sure and strong.
“No, Dean. I love you. Love you. Another reason why I stayed away. No taint on you, no hell for you anymore. Just me. Only me.”
He’s hauled even closer then, feels Dean shaking, chest hitching.
“God, Sammy.”
They sit like this, in the dark, on the ground, huddled together and never breaking contact, not letting go. They cling to each other like they both need it, need to hold on to something, someone.
“Did you listen to me?” Dean’s voice makes Sam jump and turn his head to look at his brother. Sam really looks now, sees the lines around green eyes, the shadows clearly visible. Sees the thin line of cracked lips and the constant frown on his brother’s forehead. He wants to reach out, touch and smooth out the lines. Instead he just looks, takes in a sight he thought he’d never see again.
“Huh?” It’s all he says.
“When I told you about my life? It being hell? I said I need you. Need you here with me, Sammy. Sam, there was no real reason for you to stay away. Do you get that? Do you hear me?”
If Sam didn’t know better he’d say Dean sounded scared just then. Scared and relieved at the same time, like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulder.
Does Sam get it?
After looking at Dean for a while, taking in his brother’s face, the one thing that kept him alive for over a year, after seeing the look in Dean’s eyes, Sam just moves. Moves and acts. Acts because he can’t find the right words to say. Can’t find the best way to say how much he gets it.
***
Dean’s lips are dry but still somehow soft and strong. Demanding, opening up, and playing with Sam. It feels true, like Sam has spent the last year in a trance and is just now waking up again. Dean makes him feeling alive, makes him feel.
They kiss. Make out, right there against the car, in front of Lisa’s house. Everyone, anyone could see, could walk and catch them. Neither of them seems to care. Sam moans deep in his throat, pulls Dean closer even, wants more, wants it all.
Sam can’t wrap his mind around it though. They are kissing, grabbingat each other, urgent and then gentle, frantic and then slow. Dean’s not pushing him away or telling him how perverted he is. Sam grins into the kiss, sighs and smiles again.
They kiss and Sam feels alive again.
“Freaking out?” Dean sounds cautious again but gentle.
“A little. Not because of this but because of everything else. Just… I’m here… with you. Alive. Too much to think about.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean snorts, presses another kiss to Sam’s lips, as if to reassure himself that Sam’s really there, that this is really happening. Everything feels unreal and still more real than most of the things Sam has seen in his life.
“Sammy,” Dean sighs against his lips again, kisses him slowly and gently, not even trying to hide the smile. Sam has Dean now and he’s not letting go again. No matter how much blood and tears it’ll cost him in the end. Not again.
Sam’s home now. Not purgatory. Not hell. Not heaven either. Just home. With Dean.
There on the ground, leaning against the car and in the arms of his brother Sam starts to live again. A year after he came back Sam is finally alive.
The end.
Authorthe_milky_way
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester (Sam/Dean)
Theme: 03 Paranormal
Prompt(s): 25. Holy, 26. Hell, 27. Demons, 28. Purgatory and additional prompt
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4.948
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and Warner. I don't own anything.
Warnings: slight spoilers for 5.22
Beta: Thank you, akintay
Summary: Sam survives Hell but he isn't alive, not until he has to go back and see the one person that always could make him feel.
Can you imagine a time when the truth ran free
The birth of a song and the death of a dream
Closer to the edge
This never ending story
Paid for with pride and fate
We all fall short of glory
LOST IN OUR FATE
Pain, blinding and hot, travelling down his spine, setting his skin on fire. It’s almost unbearable but he hangs on to the last threats of his consciousness. His mind is blank save for the thoughts about not giving up, fighting it. Whatever it is.
He can’t remember. There is a purpose, something to hold on to, something that’s waiting for him, wanting him back. He just doesn’t know what it is. Down here - and he knows he’s somewhere way down - it’s just pain and suffering.
It’s nothing like he’d imagined. Nothing at all. There is no real awareness most of the time, just pain. Constant and just there. Torture, mind games and the screams around him echoing in his mind.
He screams along with everyone else. For how long? He doesn’t know anymore. Because there are no seconds to count, no feeling of ‘how long’, no end at all. No beginnings, no endings. Things just go on and on. That’s all he knows these days. He isn’t even sure if it’s just days and not weeks, months even. There is no time here.
Hot fire, sulphur in the air, darkness and flashes of bright pain and changing scenarios are all there is. Images changing so often that there is no chance of getting used to them or to even comprehend what’s going on.
Sometimes he thinks it’s all so very clichéd. It’s like one would imagine Hell. This is hell as it’s described in the scriptures, in every book and poem you can find on earth. It’s everything he’s ever imagine and it’s not. Because it’s all just in his head. His mind being flooded by pictures, ideas, feelings that aren’t his.
It’s all just in his mind.
***
When Lucifer lets go, when Sam has a chance to just be, to exist outside of the grip Lucifer has on him, things look stunningly different. Lucifer’s grip on Sam’s soul isn’t as strong as it was topside. Down here boundaries blur and distinctions aren’t as clear anymore. When Sam is awake, hanging on and trying to remember why he shouldn’t, under no circumstances, stop fighting, things look more like the golden room Zachariah had them in than anything even close to hell.
This is even worse han hell itself could ever be. At least for Sam.
His freedom only ever lasts for seconds, maybe minutes, but not much longer. He takes everything in when he can, when he isn’t too beaten, too drained. These are the only times Sam can even think of trying to preserve his sanity, his humanity. He can gain strength to fight, to not give up.
There is hope again when he realizes that Lucifer needs these breaks as well to recompose, to get away from Michael. Michael who is still down here as well. Just glances Sam can sneak of the archangel are sometimes enough to make Sam hold on just a little longer. Just these looks Michael sends him, the small smile when he seems to know it’s Sam and not his brother are enough.
Sam thinks that Michael looks holier every time he gets to see him. Mightier, stronger, even down here. There is no reason why this should happen but Sam’s given up questioning it a long time ago… or it was just yesterday.
Michael speaks to him, tells him to hang on, to listen, to never stop fighting. And Sam listens because Michael’s voice is the only thing he hears that isn't screams or a mocking imitation of a voice he loves so very much. Michael keeps reminding him.
***
Michael keeps reminding him of why Sam’s down here, what he did and how it shouldn’t have been possible. Michael tells him how strong Sam turned out to be, unexpected by most but not by one. He tells Sam to never forget this one person, the reason why he’s down here, why he took that leap, why he did it all.
Sam doesn’t forget. Sam never forgets even when it gets harder to hear Michael’s voice and the times Lucifer lets go grow shorter and less frequent. Lucifer is getting stronger again, adapting to life in hell again or to whatever it is you do down here. The longer they are caught the fewer words Michael uses, the less preaching they become.
No reminders anymore, just encouragement. Until there is only one word left. The one word that will always be holy to Sam.
Dean.
Michael starts saying it every time Sam wakes up, becomes aware and opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t know and doesn’t get.
Dean.
That one word, this is everything that’s holy to Sam. Holier than his own life, holier even than the life of his little brother. Sam doesn’t even flinch anymore when he looks at Michael. Adam is back in heaven and that’s good enough for Sam to feel just a little less guilty.
Dean.
It becomes Sam’s safe word. His bible in a way. It tells him everything he needs to know and needs to remember, everything he needs to achieve. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see Dean again, doesn’t think he’ll ever have the chance to tell Dean how much he loved him. But Dean, just the word, the image it projects, is enough for Sam to bear his punishment. It’s enough for now and Sam hopes it’ll be enough for a long time.
Dean means life, survival, redemption, forgiveness and maybe even salvation. Sam doesn’t know how long it takes for him to finally get it but when Lucifer lets him go one final time Sam screams. Screams ‘Dean’ with all he has left, baring his soul, himself. Lays everything open.
And then just waits.
***
The last thing he sees is Michael’s proud smile, the encouragement in the archangel’s eyes.
Sam gets it now. So he screams again and lets it all go.
Then something tugs at him, slowly at first but building in strength. Not painfully, just getting stronger and stronger. Sam waits for Lucifer to take over again. Waits. Torn, afraid, hopeful and encouraged. Broken though.
Then he screams again. It’s like something is being ripped out of him, hard and painful. Very hard. He screams and screams, and then blinks. Everything is standing still, silence deafening and so loud. Nothing moves.
One last pull. Just one and Sam is standing outside a house, under a flickering street lamp. Nothing was ripped from him, he was ripped away from someone, out of somewhere.
The ground is wet and dark but it’s holy ground to Sam right now.
***
Sam just stands there and watches. Doesn’t get close and doesn’t leave either. He took a promise from Dean and he won’t be the one breaking it.
So Sam just watches. For a long time. Wonders what he’s supposed to do now. There isn’t really anything he can think of. There is no purpose in his life anymore.
This is not hell. This is so much worse in so many ways that Sam wonders why he’s been brought back, what he’s needed for now. All he can do is let Dean live his new life and let him go.
“You could always go back to what you know. Save people, hunt things. Family business.”
Sam doesn’t turn, no need to, he knows who it is. Has the voice still in his head.
“Not so much a family anymore.”
He keeps on watching Dean through the window, even smiles a little at the sight of his brother fighting with the steak on his plate. Sam frowns though when Dean just gives up, slumps forward and just goes for the glass of whiskey instead. Sam’s disturbed that he hadn’t even noticed the glass being there.
“You sure about that? Are you sure that this what you want? What Dean wants?”
Sam snorts. Because what he wants and what Dean wants has always been slightly different. Well, at least ever since Sam realized that he couldn’t have what he wanted. They’ve sort of grown apart since then, in their wants and wishes.
Dean wants a life, Sam knows this. Dean wants a life where he gets acknowledged, loved for the person he is. Deans wants his brother to be safe. To be alive. Dean will always be the one to sacrifice everything and not ask for something in return. It’s time that someone does the same for him, that some allows Dean to live a life.
Sam wants the same things, wants his brother to be safe and happy. But he also wants more. So much more. Has been wanting things he can never have ever since he turned 13 and wanted to rip Amanda Hayes’ lips away from Dean’s because it should have been Sam kissing Dean.
“Dean wants it. I'm just granting him the chance. I’ll do everything to make him happy.”
Even to his ears it sounds hollow, like the lie it is. He knows, just knows, that Dean’s only doing this, this try at life away from hunting, because he promised Sam. Dean’s only doing it for Sam and not himself.
Sam secretly hopes that Dean finds something worthy in his new life, something he can hold on to and can finally make him happy. Sam wants him to have that chance. If not now then when? So Sam will stay away, won’t destroy this one chance Dean has now.
“It’s for the best. What do you want anyway?” Sam wonders when he started to sound so resigned.
A slight breeze gracing his skin, making him shiver, is all indication he gets that they aren’t alone anymore. Sam doesn’t turn this time either. Still no need to, because he knows. He listens though, careful and alert.
“Brother.”
“Castiel. I assume you’ve heard the chime? I was seeing if Samuel needed any help with adjusting to life again. It’s astounding what a little faith and a lot of love can do. What one word can achieve. Free a pure soul from hell.”
“Indeed.”
Sam’s not sure he believes Michael. It was, still is, too simple. Too smooth. It can’t be just that, just him freeing himself. He’s not that strong. Never was. Almost everything he has done during the last few years is proof of this. And really, it never works this easily. Not for him.
Never.
“Love does many things, Samuel. Never doubt your love. It was strong enough to pull you out, put you back. Never question it. If it was evil, something tainted, you wouldn’t be here right now. It saved the world, Sam.”
It can’t be. Never would an archangel give his blessing to something like this, to what Sam’s been feeling for most of his adult life.
Another breeze, slight but enough to tell Sam this conversation is over. It sends shivers down his spine and Sam gasps a little. He feels a chill, feels his chest constrict and thoughts are settling into places, spaces of his mind, where they haven’t been allowed before.
Michael is gone but Sam’s not alone. He still doesn’t know why he’s back, what purpose he has now.
One last look at the window, at his past, his life, at the love he’ll never be able to claim, and Sam turns.
“Let’s go, Cas. Guess we’ve got work to do.”
***
Sam still thinks he’s doing the right thing, thinks that Dean deserves a shot at life. Now, though, there is something skipping in his chest whenever he thinks of Michael’s words, something that feels a little like hope.
He refuses to think about it though, to let himself dwell on it.
This suddenly doesn't feel so much like hell anymore. It's a new chance for him as well. It’s not heaven or the peace that he wanted either, that he deserved after all. But he’s alive, living, and maybe has a reason to go on again.
Sam will look out for his brother; will make sure that Dean’s new life is safe, not threatened by the things out there. For once in his life he can be the one looking out for Dean.
***
Sam hunts.
Precisely and effectively. Hones his skills and builds contacts. There is a network now, something he can get back to to seek information. He has his own car now, stacked with everything he needs thanks to Bobby.
It’s not home, though. It can never be. But it gets him places, gets him close to home once or twice. Because home is somewhere Sam can’t get back to. Not now, maybe not ever.
Sam knows Cas checks up on Dean, vanishes and comes back with a look in his eyes Sam can’t interpret. He never thinks it’s just Castiel not knowing how to convey human emotions. But Sam can’t hear about it, won’t listen. Can’t bear it. It hurts too much, still.
Michael hasn’t been back and Sam can’t say he misses him. One manipulative angel less to care about. Yes, Michael helped him, made him see and fight. But that doesn’t mean Michael didn’t have an agenda of his own.
Sam’s had a lifetime enough of head games and trickery.
Right now he has his hands full with rogue demons anyway. Apparently heaven and hell are in uproar, in chaos, unable to straighten things out again. Demons, left behind, roam the surface, leave traces of destruction, decay, sorrow and blood.
It’s the blood Sam can smell and see, blood that is not tempting. Blood that means a life lost, a failure to Sam. It’s all he can do anymore, save people, have a purpose. Blood spilled is a sign that he isn’t doing his job.
He knows he’s hard on himself, doesn’t rest much, doesn’t try to stick around after things are done. He doesn’t settle, doesn’t look for something for himself. Sam misses Dean. More with every day, every week that passes. The pain of not knowing, the ache in his chest, the fact that some part of himself is missing, is a constant reminder, constantly present in the back of his mind.
Sam is relentless. It reaches the point where he can exorcise a demon a week, sometimes even several at a time. He doesn’t need many books these days, knows a lot of words, spells even; knows the sigils. Sometimes he smiles at the voice in his head calling him a geek. It always, always sounds like Dean.
His muscles, his body, get used to the repetitive movements. Sense memory saves his life more than once. Pain dulling the ache in his chest. Pain and exhaustion become his state of being, the condition he’s in. His mind isn’t any better.
Exorcisms become kind of soothing. A routine in a way Sam never expected it to be. Sam’s moving with a purpose now, moving through demons like a hot knife through butter. Castiel is there, not constantly, not always helping but sort of watching over Sam anyway. In his own unique way.
Sam goes on like this until he doesn’t know anything else anymore. He doesn’t live, he hunts.
Hunting is his life.
He fulfills his basic needs, same as he did when Dean was in hell, but not as frantic anymore. There is no urgent desperation, just determination. There is no superior masterplan. There is no demon trying to entice him using images of Dean Sam could never have and Sam’s own guilt against him.
Sam’s weaknesses are still there, could still be exploited, only Sam doesn’t allow them to show anymore. Demons still taunt him, offer blood and power; know who he is. Sam’s living his life so single-mindedly that those words mean nothing to him anymore. They don’t reach him, don’t touch him.
Demons still threaten Dean. They don’t succeed for a long time, can’t get through Sam.
Until they do.
Until they do and force Sam to face the truth. The one truth he’d been trying to avoid ever since he started this life, this crusade.
Whatever Sam does, Dean will never be completely safe, not with the things out there and not with Sam staying too far away from him.
The second Sam stops the car in front of the house he knows he won’t be able to leave this time.
***
If not knowing if he’d ever get out of hell, ever see Dean again, was hell, then seeing Dean and not being able to talk to him is purgatory. Fire and still not hell, the one thing Sam won’t be able to stop.
Sam waits for the inevitable, waits for the demon to show, waits for the face off. He wants to kill the bastard before Dean even knows he was there. Thoughts are whirling, images are back from where Sam had buried them. Not buried deep enough.
Everything is there again when he finally sees Dean stepping out of the house. He lays eyes on his brother for the first time in a year, feels his heart step up a beat, feels his hands getting clamming and start to shake.
Dean looks the same and then he doesn’t. There is resignation in every move, a lingering sadness Sam’s never seen before. He has to keep himself from just getting out of the car and walking up this brother. He remembers Michael’s words then, about love.
Sam frowns, watches his brother and still doesn’t believe that his wants, his thoughts right then and there won’t send him straight back to hell. Sam’s actually pretty sure that nothing can and will redeem him from lusting after his brother, from being so completely in love with Dean that he’ll do anything, everything to keep him safe. Alive.
Sam’s doesn’t get the chance to dwell on what Dean would say, do to him if he ever found out because Sam’s suddenly out of the car and pinned against it. Arm across his throat, pressure making it hard for him to breathe. He’s been distracted, stupid, didn’t see Dean move. Zoning out with Dean close has never been a good idea and never will be a good idea.
Dean’s so close. So angry. It hurts, is overwhelming, makes Sam dizzy with relief and anxiousness. It hurts to refrain himself from surging up and kissing Dean. Hurts so much to not let go.
“Who are you?” Voice a low growl, menacing and dangerous. Sam has missed that so much.
“Shapeshifter? Demon? What? You stalking me?”
Sam can’t talk. Mostly due to Dean’s arm against his throat but also because he emotions and feelings are threatening to take the better out of him, are crashing down on him.
Sam’s choking on tears, relief and guilt before he knows what’s happening.
Dean blinks, confused, frowns and pulls back a little, arm never leaving Sam’s throat though. Ever the hunter, always cautious. Sam’s proud.
Tears a flowing freely now, falling onto skin and clothes. Sam can’t do anything to stop them, doesn’t want to. It feels surprisingly good to just let go then and there. With Dean holding him up and close.
They stay like this, frozen, looking, disbelieving.
Shock registers and emotions become visible. More than ever before. There’s anger, deep rooted within the soul. Relief, so stark that green eyes shine with it. There is happiness, clear and strong. There is pure disbelief. There is Dean looking at Sam.
Sam can see it all while he lies pinned against the car and just stares at Dean.
“That… No. You.. No.” Dean almost sobs, voice rough and pained. And all Sam manages to do is lift a hand and touch. Touch Dean, skim fingers over rough stubble and hot skin; feels the way Dean draws away even further. Something sings through his fingers when he touches some more, when he refuses to let Dean go.
Then Dean is gone, standing a few feet away now and looking at Sam with something akin to wonder mixed with a lot of confusion and anger. It hurts but it’s expected. The arm has left Sam’s throat but he still can’t breathe properly. Dean’s three feet away, back turned, when Sam starts to react.
He gasps out loud and is shocked by his own voice. Hasn’t heard it in days when he really thinks about it. Then there is water dripping down his face. Holy water. And Sam laughs.
“’M not a demon. Just here to kill one.”
“Sam?” Disbelief. Still and overwhelmingly present.
“Uh.. Hi?”
“How? Sam? How?” Dean shouts, takes a step closer again. It feels violent, aggressive, like Dean doesn’t really know how to deal, how to react. He probably doesn’t. Not even Sam knows.
“Dunno. Michael, I guess. He didn’t tell. One minute I was down and screaming, the next I was up and well.. doing nothing really.” Sam shrugs, feeling awkward, unsure. Nothing much to say or do, he wants to just stand there, stare at Dean, take him in. He’s got no idea why he says it but when he does he thinks it’s the right thing.
“I.. wanted you to have a chance.”
“What?” Dean blinks again.
“A chance at a normal life. That’s why I didn’t… I didn’t tell you. Couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? How long, Sam? Huh? How long?” Now Dean sounds really angry, sounds the way Sam expected him to. Angry, pissed even.
Hurt.
“Dean….”
“No, Sam! No. How long?”
“A few months... Close... close to a year.” Sam feels like a coward, feels like he deserves everything Dean will unleash him. He waits.
“A year? So what? You let me believe that you were dead to give me a chance at a normal life? Did I get that right?” Dean’s right in his face, snarling, spitting with rage and all Sam can do is take it. He deserves it all.
“Dean… I…”
“Yeah.. no. Fuck you, Sam. If it’s really you. I mean it's in the middle of the night, so who knows. My so-called normal life has been and is hell, Sam. Hell, because my little brother is dead and I’m not with him. Hell, because I realized how much actually need him after he was gone. Hell, Sam. So fuck you.”
Sam hears the emphasis on the name, knows Dean doesn’t believe him. Not yet. And then Dean’s gone. Back into the house Sam came to associate with his brother. Out of Sam’s life again. Leaving Sam standing there, clueless and lost. Sad, confused and not knowing what to do now.
Sadness settles over him like a layer, like a blanket over his mind. It hurts, seeing Dean walk away and Sam’s surprised he can feel it. Pain has been such a constant that he hadn’t thought he could still feel it. Still feel it so raw and sudden within him.
A stab in his heart has him clutching his chest and then there is the sob Sam has been trying to suppress. Violent and sudden, shaking his body, making Sam slide down to the ground. He feels stones dig into his leg through the jeans, doesn’t care, even appreciates the stab of reality. He feels hitches and hiccups, feels the wetness on his cheeks. He doesn’t hear anything though.
Everything is eerily silent, even his sobs.
***
Closer to the Edge
Just a slight breeze around Sam’s head, on his skin. A slight breeze is rustling the leaves and he leans against the car and closes his eyes. Lost, that’s what he feels. Lost and lonely. He’s had it all and he made the wrong move.
He shouldn’t let go like this, shouldn’t lose it like this. He’s on a hunt after all. There is a demon to be killed, a brother to be protected, a love to be kept safe. Sam just needs a minute… or two. Needs to get his head back straight.
Only, Sam can’t move. Is frozen, unable to even blink. If he’d be looking in from the outside he’d call himself catatonic. Just sits there and stares into the darkness, clueless about what to think, what to do. Lets tears fall and breaths hitch. Just lets go.
“Sammy?”
Sam’s unsure about the time span, how long he sat there breaking down, doesn’t know how long his mind mourned a lost love. He blinks his eyes open, crusted with tears and swollen, sniffling a little, trying not to use his sleeve to wipe his face. Dean’s back.
Dean’s right there, crouching down right in front of Sam, looking a little more relieved, convinced and less angry.
“Dean?” Sam tests his voice, knows he sounds weak, questioning.
“Oh, Sammy.”
Then Sam’s being pulled into strong arms, feels safe and protected again, loved and home. He feels home for the first time in a really long while. Smells Dean and memories; feels like himself again, like he’s whole again. He’s Sammy again, not just Sam, the hunter.
“Sssh, Sammy. It’s gonna be okay.”
Big brother mode. Sam savors it, takes it all in.
“There.. there’s a demon. Hunting you. It’s my fault but I’ll get it. Protect you. I.. I’ll be gone after… if you.. “ Sam shrugs, no idea how to go on, how to dig a deep enough hole to hide in. But then Dean speaks, low, gentle, reassuring.
“I know you will protect me. I know, Sam.” It’s spoken into his hair. Dean’s still holding him close, cradles Sam in his arms and is sitting next to him on the ground now. Sam feels like he's five, like he’s starting anew, learning how to be a little brother, how to be a brother, all over again. Learning how to be close to Dean, hoping for the chance to go on with it.
In this moment Sam loves Dean more than he ever has before. No impure thoughts, no desire, just love. Deep and strong.
“I love you,” he says. Loud, clear, through his tears and hitching breath. Holds on to the sound of it, to the sound of his voice carrying it into the night. Has never felt like it’s the truth before, now it’s everything and all he wants to say.
“I know you do,” Dean answers quietly, sure and strong.
“No, Dean. I love you. Love you. Another reason why I stayed away. No taint on you, no hell for you anymore. Just me. Only me.”
He’s hauled even closer then, feels Dean shaking, chest hitching.
“God, Sammy.”
They sit like this, in the dark, on the ground, huddled together and never breaking contact, not letting go. They cling to each other like they both need it, need to hold on to something, someone.
“Did you listen to me?” Dean’s voice makes Sam jump and turn his head to look at his brother. Sam really looks now, sees the lines around green eyes, the shadows clearly visible. Sees the thin line of cracked lips and the constant frown on his brother’s forehead. He wants to reach out, touch and smooth out the lines. Instead he just looks, takes in a sight he thought he’d never see again.
“Huh?” It’s all he says.
“When I told you about my life? It being hell? I said I need you. Need you here with me, Sammy. Sam, there was no real reason for you to stay away. Do you get that? Do you hear me?”
If Sam didn’t know better he’d say Dean sounded scared just then. Scared and relieved at the same time, like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulder.
Does Sam get it?
After looking at Dean for a while, taking in his brother’s face, the one thing that kept him alive for over a year, after seeing the look in Dean’s eyes, Sam just moves. Moves and acts. Acts because he can’t find the right words to say. Can’t find the best way to say how much he gets it.
***
Dean’s lips are dry but still somehow soft and strong. Demanding, opening up, and playing with Sam. It feels true, like Sam has spent the last year in a trance and is just now waking up again. Dean makes him feeling alive, makes him feel.
They kiss. Make out, right there against the car, in front of Lisa’s house. Everyone, anyone could see, could walk and catch them. Neither of them seems to care. Sam moans deep in his throat, pulls Dean closer even, wants more, wants it all.
Sam can’t wrap his mind around it though. They are kissing, grabbingat each other, urgent and then gentle, frantic and then slow. Dean’s not pushing him away or telling him how perverted he is. Sam grins into the kiss, sighs and smiles again.
They kiss and Sam feels alive again.
“Freaking out?” Dean sounds cautious again but gentle.
“A little. Not because of this but because of everything else. Just… I’m here… with you. Alive. Too much to think about.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean snorts, presses another kiss to Sam’s lips, as if to reassure himself that Sam’s really there, that this is really happening. Everything feels unreal and still more real than most of the things Sam has seen in his life.
“Sammy,” Dean sighs against his lips again, kisses him slowly and gently, not even trying to hide the smile. Sam has Dean now and he’s not letting go again. No matter how much blood and tears it’ll cost him in the end. Not again.
Sam’s home now. Not purgatory. Not hell. Not heaven either. Just home. With Dean.
There on the ground, leaning against the car and in the arms of his brother Sam starts to live again. A year after he came back Sam is finally alive.
The end.