The Promise of Who You Are (1/2) - Some Thing Are Meant to Be 'Verse, NC-17
Title: The Promise of Who You Are (1/2)
Series: Some Things Are Meant to Be
Author:
thelonejuliet
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, OFCs
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC
Word Count: 4, 677
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, language, incest
Disclaimer: I don't own them...they totally own me. Sigh....
Spoilers: Any episode is a possible spoiler.
Summary: Entirely from Sam's POV - Sam is left to his own devices - and finds out some very important information.
Author's Notes: Thanks, again,
tempestquill for the beta, though with all my whining, I probably don't deserve her. *smishes you*
This an AU! It goes AU after/during In My Time Of Dying.
The title of this story/series comes from the song "Some Things are Meant to Be" from the musical, Little Women. Lyrics found here.
Previous Stories in the 'Verse - which you do need to read first -
Tide Turning Endlessly
All My Life, I've Live For Loving You...
…Let Me Go Now Pt.1
...Let Me Go Now Pt. 2
For the second time in their young lives, one brother was leaving town on a bus while the other leaned against the hood of the Impala and tried to keep the tears at bay. Except this time, the roles were reversed and the irony of the situation was not lost on Sam. He tried to reason with himself that at least if - no, when - Dean came back, they’d be even. Leaving for college couldn’t be held over his head anymore.
As the Greyhound drove out of sight, Sam felt his heart break that much more. He could still smell his brother’s aftershave as they hugged goodbye. He could still feel his brother’s lips on his as they’d kissed before Dean walked away. He could still hear his brother’s voice, saying he’d call. He could still see the pain in those green eyes as a single tear rolled down Dean’s face and he got on the bus.
Dean was gone and no matter how many times he repeated those words, he couldn’t make sense of them, couldn’t believe it. Dean had never walked away from anything in his life, and he most certainly had never walked away from Sam. Dean’s self-proclaimed role in life was being Sammy’s big brother. Even when Sammy became Sam and didn’t think he needed him anymore, Dean never stopped trying to be the protector. Sam had always adored him for that, even if he was too stubborn to admit it.
There was no telling how long he stood there staring at the empty highway and contemplating everything he could have said or done differently. He knew that he was going to drive himself crazy with this line of thinking, but there was no stopping it. And, no one could blame him. Dean had admitted that Sam was the reason he was beat up, even if that wasn’t the thought process behind it. Sam couldn’t let that go. He couldn’t erase the guilt or the pain…he’d just have to live with it. If thinking didn’t do him in, he was sure that the guilt would.
When a tear finally escaped and silently rolled down his cheek, morning had faded to late afternoon. As the realization dawned, he faintly heard his stomach growl, even though he didn’t think he’d ever eat again. He pushed himself off the Impala with a sigh and hastily wiped at his face. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, though judging by the sympathetic looks women were giving him, the damage had been done.
Folding himself into the driver’s seat he, out of habit, turned to look at Dean before turning the car on - only to remember that Dean wasn’t there. His hand slipped from the keys and he just stared at the empty space. The space where his brother should be. The space that would be empty for a long time.
He could feel the tears coming back, and this time he let them out willingly. But, it wasn’t quiet this time. Sam flung himself into the passenger’s seat where his brother had last been. He inhaled the lingering scent of Dean and sobbed. His misery, his guilt, and the overwhelming pain he felt all came out in gut-wrenching, wordless cries. Too late, he wanted to tell Dean “no”; tell him that no one was going anywhere; scream that you don’t walk away from a problem, and you don’t walk away from those you love.
No one had ever said that life was fair. In fact, most people said life was a bitch. But, Sam’s life had more than its share of unfair events. His mother died over his crib for him to become a pawn in some evil game. His beautiful girlfriend had died in the same fashion just because he loved her. His father left them, without a word. And, now Dean was gone too. Life didn’t have to be fair for Sam to be happy. But, it sure as hell didn’t have to be this much of a bitch.
Sam figured he must have dozed in the midst of his tears because when he finally sat up to leave the bus station, once and for all, it was early evening. The sun was just a thin orange strip on the distant horizon and a few stars were making their debut. Rubbing his hand over his now tear-dried face, he finally started the car, not daring a glance at the other side of the seat.
His stomach was really aching for food by this point, so he stopped at a Subway© along the road to the motel. Once he parked the Impala, he was out and in the room in ten seconds flat. There was no point to sitting in Dean’s baby anymore than was necessary. The Dean scent would only induce another bout of tears. Though, the car was probably the lesser of two evils.
As he walked in, he immediately smelled the result of his last intimate encounter with his brother. The atmosphere was filled the scent of sex. The towel that had been used to clean them both up was still lying in the corner of the room. The sheets were still tangled up. If he squinted, he imagined he could see the imprint of where Dean had lain.
He was so transfixed on the bed that he didn’t notice the other man in the room. A loud clearing of the throat got his attention, and he had the gun out of his pants and pointed at the intruder in less than a second. At least, John Winchester had taught his boys something useful.
“Sammy, you really gonna use that gun on your old man?” a gruff voice said.
Sam dropped his sandwich and his gun in surprise, the latter thankfully still having the safety on. There, sitting in one of the old desk chairs, was his father. John Winchester, himself. He gaped open-mouthed at his father, fury and despair suddenly raging inside his body. Now he showed up? Two weeks after Dean got beat up, two days after he was out of the hospital? There was only one thing to say to the man.
“You son of a bitch,” he growled, the words coming from deep in his throat and deep in his soul. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
John let out a slight chuckle and calmly replied, “Bobby called, said one of my boys was hurt. What else would I be doing here?”
Sam looked at him in complete disbelief. All of the stupid ass things his father had pulled over the years, this took the cake. He knew that when he next spoke, pure venom would be oozing out of his pores, hate infusing his every word. He loved his dad, he did. But there was no excuse for the ignorance of the man. And he couldn’t deal with this just a few short hours after watching Dean walk out of his life for Godknowshowlong, possibly even forever.
“Well, Dad,” he spat out. “You’re a little late. Dean’s gone.”
John was up and out of the chair in a heartbeat; worry immediately etched into his face. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where is he?”
Sam smiled ruefully. Was there no end to this? “Last I saw, he was on a Greyhound bus bound for Cincinnati,” he replied.
“Cincinnati? You…why…you just let him go? For Christ’s sake, Sam, he just got out of the damn hospital! What were you thinking?!” John yelled, accusation burning in his eyes.
Sam stood there and stared at the elder man, clenching and unclenching his fists. It was all he could do to keep from punching his father until there was no life left in the man. He already wanted to hurt something and this little interaction was doing nothing to calm him down. He couldn’t believe that he was being held responsible for Dean’s leaving, when he would have done anything to keep Dean with him. He didn’t want to go through life without his big brother, and the only reason he was doing so now is because Dean had needed him to let go. Now their father wanted to place all of this on Sam’s shoulders? Like he’d placed so much - too much - responsibility on Dean’s? That wasn’t happening.
“You want to blame me for this? Fine. Blame me all you want, Dad, ‘cause I sure as hell place enough blame on you. Where were you? Huh? Where the fuck were you when Dean was unconscious in the hospital? Where were you when he was stabbed by some redneck assholes in North Dakota? Where were you when he had to go through the humiliation of reliving his experience over and over again to the police and the DA? Huh? Where, Dad? Where were you? Oh. That’s right. You were where you’ve always been. Not. Here.”
Sam took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself. There was no sense in crying over it all again. He rigidly walked over to the door and yanked it open before turning back to the older man. If he registered the tears filling up his dad’s eyes, then he wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
“Leave. Get out of my room. You’ve left us alone for the majority of the past year and a half. So, do what you’re good at. Disappear.”
He stood there for what seemed like ages, staring at the floor, before he heard John sniffle. He was surprised to feel the hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
“Sammy…I…Look, I’m…sorry. Okay? I’m going to get a room here and…I hope you’ll let me explain before you take off.” John patted his son’s shoulder and walked out of the room.
As soon as John was clear, Sam turned around and slammed the door as hard as he could manage. He barely registered one of the picture frames crashing to the ground as he leaned back against the door. What was life going to throw at him next?
After a few deep-breathing techniques, he pushed himself off the old door and walked over to his discarded food. He picked up the gun and laid it on the table next to him as he sat down in the vacated chair. He knew that when he took the first bite of his turkey sandwich, he had just made the first step in a life without Dean.
* * *
Two days later found Sam sitting in the hotel room, staring at a blank television, with three-days-worth of stubble on face. He’d finally showered and his hair was still dripping wet, soaking the shoulders of his T-shirt. By this point, he was seriously considering going out to a bar to get drunk off his ass and find some random girl - or a guy with dirty-blond hair and green eyes, he wasn’t picky - for a night of meaningless sex. That in itself was evidence of just how far he’d sunk because Sam Winchester did not have meaningless sex.
He was willing to do anything if it meant not thinking about his absentee brother…or lover…or best friend…Eh, pick a noun. There was nothing worse than daydreaming about Dean’s lips…or his eyes…or his hands…his chest…his tongue…
Sam groaned aloud to the room and tried hard to picture old ladies and dead kittens. Sitting in an empty hotel room with a bed that still smelt of Winchester sex and hadn’t been touched in three days was bad enough. Sitting in an empty motel room with a bed that still smelt of Winchester sex and hadn’t been touched in three days with a hard-on was far worse.
He rubbed his hand over his face, wincing at the feel of the stubble. He figured he could shave but, really? Who did he have to look good for? Glancing at the other bed, he pushed himself up and made himself presentable enough to speak to his father. That involved a new, dry T-shirt…and…pants. Yeah, pants. Pants would probably be necessary. He didn’t think his father would appreciate him knocking on the door in boxers. That might be a little awkward.
Once he had his shoes tied, which embarrassingly took a few tries, he made the two door trek to his father’s room. He raised his hand to knock and hesitated. What was he going to say? He was still pissed-beyond-belief at his father’s absence and he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind at the moment. He knew he was messed up, that he wasn’t thinking anywhere near clearly. Was that really the best way to approach his father about his abandonment issues? Probably not.
He was just about to turn around and hightail it back to his own room, when John’s door opened and Father and Son were face to face. John looked worn out, but not surprised to find Sam standing on his doorstep. He immediately plastered a smile on his face, even if it did look a little forced, and stepped back to give Sam space to step into the room.
Sam nodded and walked past his father into a room that looked just as dreary as his did. But, at least there were no blatant reminders of Dean in this one. He sighed and took a seat in one of the old rickety chairs at the old rickety table. He looked up at his father, who hadn’t yet moved from the entranceway after closing the door. He noticed how much older he looked since their last encounter.
The uncomfortable silence that was such a frequent occurrence between the oldest and the youngest of the Winchester clan was finally broken when John walked over and sat across from Sam.
“So…how are you doing, son? I haven’t seen you come out of that room in a few days. You’re not sick or anything, are you?”
Sam looked down at the floor, trying to figure out what substance had made that ungodly brown stain and ing of how to answer that simple question. He couldn’t say what was really going on. He could just imagine how that conversation would go. Yeah, Dad, I’m not doing so great. You see, Dean’s not just my brother. I’m also kinda dating him. And I’m definitely in love with him. So, you can imagine how upset I really am that he’s not here.
Instead he replied, “Nah. I’m just looking for the next place to go…just odd being on my own after being with Dean for so long.”
John laughed. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Dean takes up a lot of space, doesn’t he? He sorta forces his way into you.”
Sam smiled, his first one in days. “Yeah…yeah, he does.”
John returned his smile and, for just a moment, things were okay between the two. Of course, that couldn’t have lasted for too long. All good things must come to an end, right?
John cleared his throat and stole his gaze away from Sam. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on knees, and looked like he was about to deliver some bad news. Sam remembered this posture vaguely from his childhood. This view meant that they were changing schools again or the dog he’d adopted had run away. But, he couldn’t fathom what bad news could possibly be coming now. Unless something had happened to Dean, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
He was completely shocked when his father looked back up at him and smiled.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there in North Dakota, but I did have good reason. I was doing some serious research and I couldn’t resurface until I found what I needed. But, I did it Sam. I found out a way to kill the Demon. We don’t even need the colt, Sammy. It’s gonna be complicated…but we can do it.”
All Sam could find to say was, “Oh.” He refused to forgive John for not being there but, after Jess, he could understand how important what he’d been doing really was. This Demon needed to be killed, once and for all.
“There’s something else, Sammy. And I doubt that Dean’s told you…You have to promise not to flip out on me, okay Son? You won’t like what I have to say.” John paused, waiting for Sam’s acknowledgement. At the hesitant nod of his son’s head, he continued, “I know what the Demon wants with you…you and the other kids. Dean doesn’t know…I didn’t give him the details…but…you kids…you’re supposed to be soldiers. Demonic soldiers. And, unless there’s some intervention…or the Demon dies…there’s no stopping it.”
Sam exploded out of his chair. “What the hell? And you didn’t think to tell me this sooner?! How the fuck could you keep something like that from me?”
John stayed in his chair and was now craning his neck to look up at his youngest. “Sammy, I’m telling you now. I’m also telling you that there’s a surefire way to stop it from happening.”
Sam could only stare at his father in shock. So, he was right. Dean had known something and was keeping it from him. But, something like this didn’t seem like such a big deal. Sam had already figured that the plan had something to do with him fighting for the side of evil. Was there more? More than what his father was telling him? It couldn’t be ruled out - John Winchester had never been very forthcoming with information. He was too exhausted to argue with the man though and made a mental note to ask Dean the next time they spoke.
Sighing, Sam settled himself back into the chair, staring directly at his father. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. So, you figured out a better way to get rid of this damn thing?” he prodded.
John smiled again and nodded. “Yeah, I did. It’s an ancient ritual, one that should have come before this thing. I’ll need to gather the right people for it. But, it’ll work. I know it will work. It has to.”
“What do you need me to do, Dad?” Sam asked and turned to look out the window as if he could see Dean out there. His mind was already spinning through the various ways he could use this to get Dean back to him.
“Stay away,” was John’s reply.
Sam snapped his head back to look at his father. “Stay away? This whole ordeal is going to come to an end, and you want me out of the fight?” he asked incredulously. “No. No way. This is my fight too, Dad, and you can’t ask me to step out of it. Mom and Jessica both died because of me. I can’t just let that go. I have to be a part of this!”
Sam stood up then and was at the door when he felt his father’s firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back. When he turned, John had on that no-nonsense, “you listen to me, Boy” look that he remembered so well from his childhood.
When John spoke, though, he sounded like his words brought him physical pain. “Sammy. This demon wants you. And, once it realizes what we’re doing, it’s going to do anything in its power to stop it from happening. You’re a psychic, Sam. And we’ve only seen a minor extent of the powers you could have. This demon could tap into those, turn you at the last minute. I need you as far away as possible…and Dean needs to be there too.”
Those last six words had Sam’s head spinning. Dean needed to be there? Well, that explained why John had been so worried about his whereabouts. But, it seemed like there was something else he was implying…
“Dean is the only one that can save you, Sammy. He’s the only one that can keep you with us.”
John’s voice brought his gaze back into his father’s eyes. Did he know? No…he couldn’t…could he? Sam shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Instead of outright asking the question on the tip of his tongue, he eloquently said, “Huh?”
John chuckled and let his hand drop back down to his side. “You and Dean have this…connection that no one’s ever seen between siblings before. Every sign points to you as a force of evil as your destiny. But, honestly? I think you and Dean have some sort of destiny that trumps it. He’s your savior, Sammy. It’s what’s meant to be. And, I’m not the only one that believes that.”
Sam stared at John, dumbfounded. Destiny? He and Dean had a destiny…together? Well…okay then.
He nodded at John, mumbling something that sounded like “I’m leaving town…Call me when you figure out the details,” and headed back to his own room.
Sam packed up all of his belongings, trying his damnedest not to look at the bed. He had to get out of this town. His mind was reeling with information overload. And, at the edges of his brain he could feel a thought forming - Dad knows. He refused to let it get any clearer though because owning up about his relationship with Dean to their father was not on his to-do list anytime in the next millennium. He was going over every encounter they’d had with their father since they’d started whatever-it-was-they-were-doing, trying to figure out if they’d slipped up. But, if they had…why was their Dad being so coolheaded about it? His sons were sleeping together. That seemed like a major freak-out factor.
After a quick stop to the front desk to check out, Sam threw his duffel in the backseat of the Impala and pulled away. He waved to his father, who was loading up his own truck, as he passed. He got on the road and headed west. Dean had gone to Cincinnati, so he would go in a different direction, as much as it pained him to do so. He figured Wyoming was as good a place as any; he’d read about some mysterious deaths in Laramie.
He pushed farther down on the gas pedal; maybe speed could get him away from his life.
* * *
Two days later, the ringing of his cell phone woke Sam up. He reached for it blindly, not having enough will power to wake himself fully. He didn’t even bother to check the caller ID.
“Hello?” he asked groggily.
“Hey Sammy,” came the familiar voice.
Sam was awake in an instant, shooting to a sitting position in his bed; he hadn’t expected to hear from his brother so soon. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat and he was suddenly short of breath. His mind was immediately spinning, changing between hopes and fears at the speed of light. Is he okay? Did he change his mind? Did something happen? Does he want to come back to me? Oh, God, is he hurt again?
“Dean?” he whispered, not daring to believe it yet.
Sam’s heart flooded with relief when he heard his brother’s laugh come across the line. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me. What’s with the whispering? You sound like you’re hiding in the closet.”
A laugh, albeit a high-pitched one, escaped his throat at that. Dean may be far away but at least he was still Dean. The comment also simultaneously made his chest clench up. It had hardly been a week, but he missed brother like one would miss an amputated limb. He couldn’t recall feeling this depressed even after Jess’ death.
Sam took a deep breath and steeled himself for the following conversation. It wasn’t going to be easy holding back his feelings from Dean - and there was no way he was showing his brother how much he missed him, how awful he was feeling. That would only serve to make Dean feel guilty and then whatever he needed would come behind what Sam wanted, as usual. He couldn’t let that happen.
As the internal war raged within Sam, Dean spoke up. “So, uh…I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay…I’ve been in Florence, Kentucky for the past couple days…trying to figure out what I wanna do…So…um…how are you, Sam?”
“I’m…” Think of the right words, Sam. Say the right thing. What’s the right thing? “…fine. I’m good. Still in Mason City…trying to find a new hunt or…something.” Sam knew immediately that he wasn’t convincing. Obviously Dean knew it too.
“Yeah, okay, Sam. How are you really doing?” Dean asked. Sam could just hear the smirk.
He sighed heavily, before asking, “Honestly? This…sucks, man. I…You…God, I hate being alone, without you! And if that makes me sound like a fucking girl, so be it. I miss you, Dean.”
If Sam’s voice broke pathetically on his brother’s name, he couldn’t be held responsible. He was miserable. For once Dean, thankfully, had the good grace not to mention the chick-flick moment.
Dean sighed, equally as put-upon as Sam. When he spoke, he sounded very restrained, like he was on the verge of losing control himself. “I know, Sammy…I miss you too. But…I’m sorry. All right? Sam, I’m so sorry that I have to do this…”
Sam leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. He tried to squeeze back the tears. By this point, he honestly had no idea how he had any water left in his body to allow tears. He was on a very fine edge and he knew that just the slightest wind in the right direction would push him over into oblivion.
But, there was something he had to know. “Dean. In the hospital, before Dad left us, what did he say to you?” Before Dean could respond with some false response, he added, “And don’t you lie to me. Dad told me he said something.”
He heard Dean sigh again on the other end of the line. “Sammy…Why does it matter?”
“Because I talked to Dad…he told me that he knew the Demon’s plans. But, he was keeping something from me. What, exactly, did he say to you, Dean?” Sam pushed.
“He, uh…he said that I needed to save you,” Dean replied.
“I know that much. What else?”
There was a long pause before Dean’s next words filled the silence. Five minutes and Sam was ready to claw out his eyes when he heard, “…If I don’t save you…or if someone else doesn’t save you…you have to be killed…Dad told me that I might have to kill you…”
Dean trailed off and Sam was sure he heard sniffling come through the phone. But, he didn’t know what to say. Is that why Dean had been so stressed out? Trying to find a way to save him? But…then why did he leave? He couldn’t very well save Sam if he wasn’t there…right?
The only thing that managed to come out of Sam’s mouth was, “Oh.”
“Look, I…uh…I’m gonna go Sam. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this, but…” Damn, even Dean’s voice sounded teary now. “Hey, I…I just wanted you to know I’m alright.”
Sam nodded, knowing that his brother couldn’t see it. His throat was too tight for him to say anything other than a feeble, “Thanks, man.”
Right before the signifying click came into his ear, he heard Dean say, “I love you Sammy.”
Sam closed his phone and hurled it across the room. He was tired of secrets and lies and half-truths. After everything he’d gone through for and with his family, he deserved some open honesty - especially when it concerned him, for Christ’s sake! Apparently, there was some demonic destiny that he was supposed to fulfill and the people closest to him were keeping it a secret?
“Goddammit!” he said to the empty room.
Then, he threw himself back down onto the bed and pulled up the covers. He was more pissed than he’d ever been in his life and he needed some serious sleep if he was going to deal with all this. And, if his dreams were filled with images of him beating the shit out of his father and Dean…well, who could blame him?
On to The Promise of Who You Are - Pt. 2