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Sam is sitting alone in the living room of his childhood home.
The house he shared with Dean his whole life. Now it stands empty except for him; soon to be orphaned and already brotherless, one way or another
He has been asked to take a leave of absence from the hospital until the commotion has settled down. A fully paid vacation time...
The excuse is sick-leave, but Sam knows it’s because too many journalists have tried to talk to him at his workplace. He understands. You can’t really treat the sick and needy when there are obnoxious press people breathing down your neck.
And every goddamned news station is gutting the story of the omega who has escaped a private Omega Care facility; suffering the lowest hormone levels ever recorded and doomed to die if he is not recaptured.
It has everything that sells: family drama, tragedy and hope.
Although Sam has very little hope left.
He sits in the dark, a glass of whiskey in his hand and the half empty bottle on the small coffee table in front of him, a mobile phone next to it. He likes the room dark… so he doesn’t have to see all the little things that remind him of his brother. The one he betrayed to save his life.
But the house itself is a constant reminder of Dean. It’s much too big without him there. Much too empty.
There is Dean’s room that Sam can’t make himself enter and the garage that he has been inside only once since Dean was taken.
His 67 Chevy Impala is standing there, black and pristine, and Sam feels as if it… she… is judging him.
She is Dean’s Baby after all.
If Sam dared to sit down on the driver’s seat and turn the key to start the engine, surely she wouldn’t even make a sound. Or she’d start the engine alright, but then lock him in and fill her interior with toxic fumes to kill him.
He’d deserve it, too.
Everything is haunted now by the memories of days past.
The car and the house.
Memories of breakfasts and movie nights, of games of rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll have to do the dishes and the faint sound of a chuckled “You worry too much, Sammy.”
Sam thinks he should have worried more and much, much sooner; should have realised how fragile his ‘strong, big brother’ had been all this time.
He had seen the signs, of course; even as a child. Had tried to get through to Dean ever since the ‘outside world’ opened his eyes to the abuse they both suffered from John’s twisted views.
He remembers offering to take care of Dean should he present as Alpha, because that's what an alpha is supposed to do; taking care of their omega. He remembers Dean's laugh and how he had ruffled his hair.
“You don't even know what that means.” Dean had said. “And don't let dad hear you talking such nonsense.”
Sam had found out not very much later what this taking care actually meant… and he had recoiled from the thought of doing something like that with Dean. They were brothers after all.
Now he is not so sure he wouldn't at least offer it if he had a chance to go back. To save Dean. He could be a freak of nature just for that.
It's a weak condolence to think that Dean would never have taken the offer anyway. It also makes Sam feel like a rat.
It's no noble sacrifice if he knows it won't be accepted.
Not then and not now.
Sam wonders how many alpha/omega siblings have been forced to make such unnatural arrangements for the omega to survive...
Even if there were only one pair in the entire world, it would be too many.
But Dean had put up a front of health for him; had never even entertained the Idea that he might need help or that said help could come from Sam.
So much pain hidden behind his perfect, well practised smile. How much had he kept from Sam over the years? How much of John’s mistreatment had Dean endured without ever letting Sam know of it?
Sam should have been able to scent it after Dean got off the suppressants, but he didn’t. Maybe he was used to Dean smelling a bit off all the time. A bit sick.
Maybe it was because they didn’t really see each other much anymore after Sam had gotten the promotion at the hospital… Or because Dean worked on his car restorations whenever he felt like it and always smelled like motor oil, car paint and some potent hand cleaner he used.
Sam takes another sip of his whiskey and eyes the mobile with distaste.
He wants to call Castiel.
Wants to scream at the other alpha, because he failed so spectacularly to do his fucking job. He was supposed to help Dean, not lose first his position as head doctor in his own fucking house and then the omega he had been entrusted with.
But it’s late at night and what good will it do anyway?
Castiel can’t magic Dean back for Sam to take home any more than Sam can undo his betrayal of Dean’s trust.
Regret has been eating away at Sam ever since he visited Dean at the facility and got told that Dean didn’t want to see him. Ever since he got his ass beat by Dean when he snuck in to see him regardless… Not a small feat considering Dean is sick and an omega as well.
And yet Sam pleaded for Dean to return to Omega Care on television… not because he thinks they can help him; he has lost that delusion after he saw Dean again and heard his accusations… but because it would be so much easier to get Dean home from there if he helped smooth things over.
If Sam plays along now, helps them with damage control, they won't get the idea to try and blame the whole fiasco on him... Saying he should have surrendered Dean years ago... When he still had a chance...
If Dean came back now, Sam could still lay claim to him as his next of kin and alpha infront of the law. He would be able to take him home, to make amends.
But he won’t.
Sam knows.
The choice to involve Omega Care has been his, no matter how much Sam wants to lay the blame elsewhere.
And it’s not like he couldn't. He could push his own guilt away and accuse Ruby, the omega he met not two months ago at a workplace party.
Tiny, dainty Ruby.
Perfect face, silky hair… lithe body and sharp tongue.
He still doesn’t know whose plus one she was. He only knows she doesn’t even work at the hospital and she hasn’t answered his calls ever since Dean ran from the Omega Care facility and made the news.
She had been so easy to talk to. So easy to confide in.
Sam had needed someone to talk to for years. Dean would have been there for him, he knows, but it’s different with Dean.
Ruby doesn’t know Dean. She never met him. She only knows what Sam shared with her.
“You are going to be the bad guy in his story no matter what you do.” she had said to him, soft and warm next to him; her scent filling the room. Everything had been so clear back then.
Dean would die if he didn’t act. And being hated by Dean for a while was preferable over losing him forever.
And surely Dean would forgive him eventually; would see that it was the only way to save him.
Ruby had told him about Omega Care. Had told him that she, too, had been at such a facility once and received help.
Now, in the gloom of his mind and home, Sam remembers the look in Ruby’s eyes as she told him this. Her brown eyes blackened to pools of dark despair. Remembers a faint bitterness in her scent and a hint of irony in her voice.
He should have known then.
He should have asked what they really did at these Care Centers. The truth behind the textbook dream that was glamorised at medical school. Maybe, if he had shown real interest in her past, she would have warned him about all the things that are now being dragged to the light by the press. Things he himself only really understood when it was too late to turn back...
But he can’t really blame her.
She has only told him what he wanted to hear.
As any ‘good’ omega would. She listened to his worries and strengthened his resolve that drastic measures were necessary to save his single most important person. Because Sam cared deeply and truly for Dean and would do anything and everything for his brother.
He wants to blame her though. Because she knew. Because it’s easy.
And he wonders if that is what she does now.
If that is how she managed to justify submission to herself.
Feigning compliance to a system she would otherwise be crushed by and play with the alphas that pursue her. He had been taken in by her beauty, her softness, the way she spoke to him with so much understanding and just the right amount of teasing.
It was his fault. All of it.
It still is.
Dean will die.
Not at home, but somewhere foreign. Away from Sam and Baby, from this house and the memories it holds. No more Western, no more 70s rock music, no more self made burger on saturday evenings and no more cherry pie for dessert.
Sam puts the now empty glass down and picks up the phone.
He could try to reach Ruby one last time. It won’t do much good, he knows that. But maybe she’ll pick up this time and he can hear her mocking laughter and her real voice; not one softened to please an alpha’s ear. He thinks he knows her now. She did it on purpose. It doesn’t lessen his guilt, doesn’t bring Dean back or changes the fact that it still was the only option he had left.
But it opens his eyes to the simple fact that there are so many broken omegas and the lie of them being sacred is the biggest one of all.
Because nothing about this is holy or sacred or even remotely good.
He wants to know her story now. Wants to know why she decided that Dean was the perfect way to hurt Sam. Not Sam as a person, he thinks, but Sam as an alpha. Any alpha.
He wants to know if it ever was about him or just about inflicting pain.
She suffered so others have to suffer, too.
The phone is cold in his hand. It feels strangely real. Too real, perhaps. A gateway to the outside world.
He scrolls to Ruby’s name. Reading it makes his skin crawl.
Not because of what she did. In the end she didn’t do anything wrong… She did what she was supposed to do as an omega. Listen and support… and submit.
He never asked her real opinion. Her real thoughts.
He feels like he failed a very simple test at school.
And his punishment is Dean’s death…
He deletes her number.
They will never talk again. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because it won’t do both of them any good. He is trapped in this endless circle of blaming her and blaming himself and blaming her and blaming himself…
And without her number, he can’t call her and be even more pathetic.
Because, and this is the worst and he hates himself for it, he misses her.
Then he scrolls up again, looking for Castiel’s number.
He finds it and just barely resists the urge to throw his phone against the nearest wall.
It is so much easier to blame Castiel.
Because he is an alpha, too.
He is a doctor, too.
A specialist !
Sam touches the name and listens to the dial tone. He doesn't care that Castiel is probably sleeping. Peacefully, no less.
He didn't lose his only remaining family after all.
You killed him, he thinks. You murdered my brother. And I am complicit…
The phone keeps ringing.
I hate you! I hate you! I hate you almost as much as I hate myself.
The Phone clicks. He is redirected to voicemail. Castiel's voice is so infuriatingly calm as it asks him to leave a message after the beep.
I will kill you, Sam thinks. You lost me my beloved brother! I will find you and tear you to shreds and use your intestines to twist a rope to hang myself with!
He imagines what it might feel like to rip Castiel's throat out with his bare teeth. Imagines the taste of blood on his tongue.
Metallic and sweet just like his own from all the times John hit him for speaking up about Dean's treatment.
But he better not put any threats on tape… Not when he half intends to follow through with them….
“I trusted you.” He says instead and is surprised by how calm his own voice is.
He doesn't know what else to say.
“I trusted you!” He repeats, this time with pain in his voice. No tears, though. He has no more left.
Seconds pass.
“Rot in hell.”
He hangs Up.
He doesn't feel better.
He doubts he ever will again.
The stupid hope that Dean will be fine after all is still sitting in his heart like a demon and gnawing at his flesh.
He hopes, hopes, hopes that John is right; that Dean is stronger than he thought; that he can tough it out somewhere.
Maybe he finds a way to survive like Ruby did…
Maybe he will even come back one day…
Not for Sam. Never that. But for Baby. Dean surely would come back for his car.
Sam doesn't throw the phone against the nearest wall. He puts it down carefully. He runs both hands through His hair and sighs.
He thinks he might sit just a while longer… feeling trapped by guilt in this House that is too big, too empty, too full of memories, too devoid of Dean.
He covers his face with both hands.
“You are going to be the bad guy in his story no matter what you do.” he whispers to himself and laughs. It's bitter.
He thinks he should have let Dean live…and die… the way he wanted. He should have…
Selfish, he thinks.
“I am so sorry, Dean.”
No one is there to answer.