Work Text:
Title: Enough.
Author: gooferdusty
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Dean.
Rating: PG.
Genre: Gen, Angst, h/c
Warnings: None, zip, nada. Possibly the need for tissues?
Disclaimer: Not making a penny profit, don't own the boys, no hurt intended, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Summary: After a close call on a hunt the boys head to Bobby's for a little R&R. Dean finds out just how much his brother lost when Sam's destiny came calling.
A/N This is something i wrote to help my muse get firing again. A friend of mine wanted some h/c gen with Dean being all awesome big brother. Set sometime after the return of Sam's soul i guess. NOTE: Edited on 15/07/2011 to try and clear up some of the grammatical errors that were there. Especially my switching between tenses. I know it's far from perfect, but i hope it is at least better. :)
Dean woke with a start, and for a moment he isn’t quite sure where he is. It’s a common occurrence, a by product of the life he leads. Blinking against the darkness Dean felt the momentary unease of disorientation begin to ebb away as the familiar surroundings of Bobby’s front room are slowly revealed from out of the black. Scrubbing a hand through his hair Dean turns to look across at the couch, expecting to see his brother sleeping peacefully. The uneasy feeling from moments ago returning when his gaze falls upon nothing but rumpled empty blankets.
Their last hunt had been pretty unremarkable, in theory a simple salt and burn. The kind of job they could normally do in their sleep. Find the bad thing, kill the bad thing. Case closed move on. Only the reality had proved anything but simple. This past year they had faced down the devil, averted the apocalypse. How ironic was it that the kind of hunt they had grown up cutting their teeth on should have so very nearly succeeded where Lucifer hadn’t.
Dean had known that Sam was tired, worn thin. Despite all of his brother’s assurances to the contrary, Dean had known. He could see it in Sam’s every action; hear it in Sam’s every word. Sam was running on fumes hiding in the life, burying his emotions in the hunt. Dean had used the hunt as a crutch on more than one occasion; he knew how the story went, could quote it chapter and verse. You pushed yourself from case to case, because a moment of down time meant nothing to occupy your thoughts. No distraction from the hurt that lurks in the idle of quiet moments. There is no more dark and dangerous place for a hunter to be than alone with his thoughts. And Dean knows Sam’s thoughts are darker than most.
So they had made it out of their last hunt alive by the skin of their teeth. Sam had been a yard too slow, a step too sluggish, tiredness slowing his reactions. The spirit had knocked the shotgun from his hands before throwing Sam into it’s freshly dug grave. Dean watching in horror as the spirit made the walls of the grave collapse in on themselves, burying Sam beneath their weight. Dean had dug frantically, his vision blurred by tears. The skin on his hands blistered and bloody as he fought to free his brother. All the while his efforts being hampered by the spirits frequent attacks. It had been close. Too close. Four minutes of CPR performed on a non breathing little brother close. As soon as they were back at the motel Dean threw their bags into the Impala and did what he knew he should have done weeks ago. He made for Bobby’s. Enough was enough. Dean was slamming the brakes on his runaway train wreck of a little brother before Sam finally ran out of track. Sam was going to rest and recharge his batteries, whether he liked it or not. That had been three days ago now. Three days and Sam had done little but shuffle around the place like an old man. Becoming increasingly silent, retreating further into himself with each passing day.
Getting to his feet Dean winced, his knees protesting the movement. Walking to the kitchen Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge before walking out onto the porch, scanning the junkyard for Sam. Shivering against the night air Dean sighed when his gaze landed on his brother. Sam had always been strong. Full of such vitality. He was meant for so much more than this life. Sam could have done anything, become anything. Growing up whenever Dean looked at Sam he could see the success he knew his smart strong willed brother would make of his life. Sam seemed to almost glow with so many bright possibilities. Lately though when Dean looked at Sam it was like looking in a mirror. Sam no longer harboured any hopes for a future beyond the hunt. He went where the job took him; destined to never be anything more than a passing acquaintance to the people he met. Resignation and existing from one moment to the next slowly replacing hopes and dreams until Sam wasn’t the Sam of a million bright futures anymore. He was a hunter. No more, no less. And despite all the fights they’d had over the years about Sam leaving for Stanford and his own personal sense of loss when he left Dean always knew deep down that this lonely transitory life wasn’t ever something he wanted for his brother.
With a sigh Dean walked over to the Impala. Sam was lying on the hood, his back resting against the windscreen as he studied the night sky. The tell tale shift in Sam’s breathing alerting Dean to the fact that Sam knows he’s there even though he hasn’t acknowledged his arrival. Offering Sam a beer Dean climbed onto the hood before leaning back until he’s lying alongside his brother. Accepting the beer Sam takes several long pulls from the bottle, its contents drained in a few more deep swallows. Sitting up to throw the empty bottle out into darkness Sam sighs, exhaling deeply as he lies back against the car once more. His gaze returning to the heavens above. Concerned, Dean watches the little scene from the corner of his eye as it plays out. He knows Sam needs to talk. He also knows better than to try and make him. Sam will speak when he’s ready. Where as Sam needs a crowbar to prise Dean’s thoughts from him all Dean ever needs to find out what’s eating at his little brother is time. Right now Sam is picking through the minefield of his thoughts, trying to find the safest way through. Dean just has to wait for him to find the route.
“Yellow eyes was telling the truth.” Sam’s whispered confession into the darkness.
“Bout what?” Dean asked, watching as Sam pulled something from the front pocket of his jeans. Dean’s heart twisting in his chest as Sam placed the little red velvet box in his hand.
“I was gonna ask her to marry me.” Sam said, his eyes never leaving the little box in Dean’s hand.
When yellow eyes had spat the vicious barb at his brother Dean had prayed with everything he had that it was a lie. But one look at the devastation the words had wrought on Sam’s face told Dean all he’d needed to know. Opening the small box Dean sighed, the single set diamond glinting in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful Sam.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sam whispered. “I saved up for months to buy it. Jess would have killed me if she had known how much it cost. But i just wanted to get her something that was as beautiful as she was. I had the whole thing planned out.” He finished with a sad shake of his head.
Dean sat quietly, listening as Sam told him how he had planned to take Jess to the little Italian restaurant she loved. How afterwards he was going to drive out into the country and propose under the stars. Leaning into his brother Dean bumped his shoulder against Sam’s. “My brother the hopeless romantic.” He smiled hoping to coax a smile from Sam no matter how small in return
Bumping Dean’s shoulder in return Sam smiled softly. “Gotta do it right yeah? You only get married once. Or at least i planned to.” Sam said his expression wistful. “Of course she might have said no.”
Closing the box Dean handed the ring back to his brother watching as Sam wrapped it up in his paw of a hand and cradled it against his chest protectively. “Jessica seemed like a smart girl to me Sam. And for reasons best known to her she loved your geeky ass.” Dean said slapping his hand on Sam’s thigh in gentle teasing. “Trust me, she would have said yes.” He smiled. “And not that i know jack about being a husband, but i know you would have totally kicked it in the ass.”
Dean felt Sam’s heavy sigh against him as the wind picked up, the stiff breeze blowing Sam’s hair across his face. The cold night air sending a chill skittering along Dean’s spine as the silence pressed in around them once more.
“I loved her.” Sam whispered looking up at the stars once more.
Dean felt his heart shatter into a thousand jagged shards at the sight of the wet salt ribbon escaping from the corner of Sam’s eye. Sam’s tears sparkling silver in the moonlight as they disappeared into his hairline. “I know you did Sammy.” He sighed. “I know you did.”
Dean watched as Sam slipped silently off the car, his eyes tracking his brother as Sam walked around to the Impala’s trunk. When Sam returns he’s holding a small plastic bag that Dean has never seen before. Placing the bag in Deans lap Sam gestures towards it with a nod of his head. “Open it.”
Dean peers into the bag and the world stops. Or maybe it’s just his heart that does. His chest tightening with every breath as if the bags innocent looking contents have the power to paralyze his lungs. To know that Sam, his little brother, the kid Dean’s adored since his Mom first placed him in Dean’s arms all those years ago has been carrying this hurt alone tears at the very core of him. With trembling hands Dean carefully pulls the tiny knitted Booties from out of the bag, studying the little white shoes. They barely weigh a thing. A mere scrap of material, but the weight of what they represent threatens to crush him. Sam is trusting him with something so infinitely precious to him that Dean can hardly breathe. It goes beyond the little shoes that Dean is cradling in protective hands; Sam is trusting him with the knowledge of his deepest hurt. How Sam found the strength to keep breathing in the face of such grief and loss is beyond him and it fills Dean with such a swell of love and admiration for his brother that his heart constricts in his chest.
Leaning into Dean Sam reaches across to run a finger reverently across the tiny little shoes. “Jess was two months pregnant when she died.”
And the hits just keep on coming. Dean wishing he could raise that yellow eyed bastard from the dead just to kill him all over again. “Oh Sammy.” Dean whispered, a single tear breaking over his lashes and tracking down his face as his heart breaks for his little brother. Gently placing the Booties back in the bag Dean carefully hands it back to Sam. “I’m so sorry Sammy.” Dean said softly. “I’d do anything to have saved you from this.”
And just like that Sam is crying. Heavy sobs wracking his body as he collapses against Dean and cries his heart out. “I can’t do this anymore.” Sam sobbed shaking his head. “I’m sorry Dean. I tried, but i can’t. I’m sorry, i’m sorry.” The words tumbling out between ragged shaky breaths.
Pulling Sam against him Dean held onto him as he cried, his heart aching for his little brother. “Sshhh it’s ok Sam. Nothing to be sorry for. Ok? Not ever.” Dean sighed, cradling Sam’s head against his shoulder, his hand fisted in Sam’s hair. “Not ever. You hear me? Not ever.”
“I...i want a home Dean. I want someone to love me, to love them in return.”
Dean closes his eyes against the burn of tears. He wants to tell Sam he is loved, has always been loved but he knows the familiar love of his brother is not what Sam means so he just holds on tighter as Sam shakes in his arms.
“I want to be a Dad.” The broken raw words whispered into Dean’s neck as Sam dissolves into harsh pained sobs, his tears soaking through the shoulder of Dean’s shirt.
“Whatever you need Sammy.” Dean soothed as he strokes the back of Sam’s head. “Whatever you need.”
And in that moment Dean knows he will never hunt again. They've done their bit, saving the world in the process. It's down to others now to keep it saved. Sam has more than earned his shot at normal, at a family of his own. It won't be easy adjusting to a life outside of the hunt; Dean is under no illusion about that. But no matter how hard it is Dean will be there for Sam every step of the way. Because if a lifetime of hunting has taught Dean anything it's that there's nothing they can't overcome when they face it together.
Tightening his hold on Sam Dean wonders idly what their future as civilians may hold. Saving coupons, hunting houses. The Winchester family business.
The End.
Although there might be timestamps of the boys adapting to civilian life if there’s enough interest. And i have an urge to write some daddy Sam!