Sam couldn’t help how he stared at the man standing there in
front of them. They’d seen so much over the years, been through so many things.
Deaths and resurrections and everything in between the two. Yet still none of
it had prepared him for seeing his father standing there in the middle of
Bobby’s kitchen looking just the same as he had all those years ago before
they’d lost him. Somehow even though Sam was older his Dad still looked just as
big and just as powerful as he always had. Sam had seen true power since then –
he’d seen archangels who could smite him with just a thought. He’d been to hell
and suffered torture beyond imagining. He’d been soulless and had been resouled
by Death himself, had been crazy and
broken and healed again by an archangel they’d all thought was dead and gone.
Sam had faced so much in his life since the last time he’d seen their father.
Yet still, he stood at Dean’s side and fought not to lean into his big brother,
to duck back and hide from this giant of a man who would always seem larger
than life in Sam’s eyes.
The smile that curved John’s lips was familiar and painful
and just a bit wonderful. “Hey, boys. Long time no see.”
“Dad.” Dean’s voice was low, the single word a croak that
Sam wasn’t sure he’d meant to pass his lips.
Off to the side, Bobby watched their reunion with a smile on
his lips and worry showing in his eyes. He anticipated their first question and
answered it before they had the chance to give it voice. “It’s really him. I
did all the tests – it’s him.”
It seemed too good to be true. How on earth had their Dad
been resurrected? How was he here?
When John took a step forward, Sam moved instinctively,
pressing himself just the tiniest bit closer to Dean. It was a move he’d done
countless times before when faced with something bigger and stronger than him.
Not even Lucifer had been able to destroy that belief in Sam that Dean was his
one safe place. Nothing the devil had done had been able to get rid of that
sense of safety in Dean’s presence.
Dean responded to it the same way that he always had. He
shifted his weight on his feet in a subtle move that slid him more in front of
Sam than behind him. He sheltered Sam without even having to think about it.
“Dad.” He repeated, this time a little steadier, a little more awed, like it
was finally sinking in.
When Dean moved forward to hug their father, to wrap him up
and cling in a way the Winchesters had only ever done when things were serious,
when emotions were too high and they couldn’t give in to the words because that
wasn’t who they were, Sam took a small step back.
Was this… was this real? Was that actually John standing
there? Sam curled his one hand in tight and dug his fingernails into his palm
over top of the scar that had helped him to keep as sane for as long as he had
once the wall had been broken in his mind. But not even the pain of his nails
cutting into his skin broke through the image of John and Dean hugging. That
meant – did that mean he was real? He was really here?
The two broke apart and John’s smile turned Sam’s direction.
It was open and warm in a way Sam couldn’t remember seeing there all that
often. This was a happy John. One who was happy to see his boys. Who wasn’t
angry or disappointed or any of the things that Sam knew he should be. “Hey,
Sammy.”
That nickname was enough to have Sam actually flinching
backwards. They echoed in his head, a remembrance, a memory of a different
time. A time that, despite Gabriel’s healing, still burned around the edges of
Sam’s mind sometimes. John’s face had been one that Lucifer liked to use a lot.
One that he knew hurt Sam quite a bit. Was that what this was now? Was this
just, was he going crazy again and this was Lucifer torturing him somehow?
Sam’s flinch had worry flashing into John’s eyes. But it had
Dean reacting in a different way entirely. He cursed in a low voice and then
stepped right past John and firmly placed himself between the two. All of his
attention was fixed on Sam, though. “Hey, Sammy, look at me. Look right here.”
His right hand lifted and he pointed at his face. His gaze was steady as it
locked on Sam. “That’s it, little brother. Look right here at me. You’re okay.
You’re all right.”
Until then Sam hadn’t realized that he was shaking. He
became abruptly aware of it when Dean took a step towards him and reached out,
closing one of his hands over Sam’s shaking fist. He never held Sam’s wrists,
not after the last time when Sam had almost had a panic attack because of it.
It felt like Sam’s thoughts were all over the place. This, it
couldn’t be real. It couldn’t! This had to be some sort of torture. Which meant
that soon, things were going to get decidedly less nice. John or Dean or
someone was going to start doing the things that still haunted Sam’s dreams at
night. He’d thought that Gabriel had gotten rid of most of the crazy! This
shouldn’t be happening!
“What’s going on?” John asked, looking even more worried
than before. He moved to step up beside Dean, stopping when Dean shot a hand
out to block him.
“Stay back.” Dean warned. His eyes never broke away from
Sam’s. When he spoke again, his voice gentled, turned to that softer tone that
only ever was directed at Sam. “Focus on me here, Sammy. You know I’m real. I’m
right here with you.”
“Dean?”
Sam’s voice was low and questioning. Pleading, really. He
knew and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Something was wrong here.
Something was so wrong. What was happening?
Another low curse sounded from Dean. He took another small
step forward and kept his hold on Sam’s hand without any of the hesitation or
shame that might’ve been there around John years and years ago. A lifetime ago.
“Yeah, all right, kid. Whatever you need.” Dean said, hearing the unasked
questions in just that one word, just the sound of his name. He’d always been
able to read Sam better than anyone. The next second he proved that by calling
out “Hey Gabriel, get your feathery butt on down to Bobby’s. We got a situation
here and Sam needs you – now.”
It took only a second – during which Sam could hear John
demanding once more “What’s going on?” – and then there was the sound of wings
that Dean swore he never could hear, but Sam always could.
The archangel didn’t even bother with any sort of pretenses
or any of his usual games. He landed right at Sam’s side, the side opposite the
one that Dean was holding on to. One look around the room in what Sam knew was
a sweep for threats – a brief widening of his eyes as they passed over John –
and then those golden orbs were locked right on Sam’s face. In the next instant
Gabriel was stepping right between Sam and Dean without ever breaking Dean’s
hold and he was reaching up to cup Sam’s face in both his hands. The flow of
grace was instant and, as always, it washed away some of Sam’s panic. “Take a
deep breath for me, kiddo. Focus here on me and take a deep breath.”
That was something he could do. Sam drew in a breath and
then let it back out, slowly. He did that twice, mimicking Gabriel’s breathing
almost unconsciously. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit steadier,
but full of questions. “Gabriel?”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel said, just as good as Dean at
reading Sam. He stepped in closer so that their bodies pressed together and he
smiled sweetly up at him. A smile that was pure Gabriel, and that was just for
Sam. Only ever for him. “You’re not there, all right? Just keep focusing on me.
You know the drill. This is just your brain trying to flashback and we’re not
gonna let it. Keep looking at me and focus on what you see. What you feel.
You’re stronger than these memories, Samshine. Kick ‘em in the ass.”
I like how Dean just listened to Sam at the end of the last episode. He called him out, reminded him why what he did might bite them in the ass, but he didn’t shut down on him after that. He could see how shaken his brother was and he just listened to him, offered his solidarity, and was just…there. He didn’t take it personally like he often does- which ends up making things worse for both of them. He just listened and offered his familiar ‘we’ll get through this’ talk- which Sam might not be able to hear right now, but it’s important that he hears that even if he’s losing faith, Dean believes in them.
I like that Sam is having this very internal struggle- this helplessness and guilt (that they get people killed, that pretty much everything he set out to do since the beginning of the season has failed) but despite all of it he knows that if he knew how to share- Dean would be right there to listen to it. Usually the brothers are at odds when they end up in their dark places- so it’s interesting to see them both have these moments of weakness and self doubt as completely separate entities while they still have a solid relationship- because usually these moments of self loathing and guilt are because of something that is broken in that relationship.
Dean allowed himself
to be mesmerized by the glow of the flickering neon blue and gold reflecting on
the ice cubes as they filled the bucket. He took a piece from the bucket and crunched
on it as he stomped back to the motel room.
He powered through
the door, unsurprised at seeing Sam in the same position he’d been in for
hours, while Donna cried, first hysterically, then just exhaustedly leaking: on
the couch, facing the wall, hands bracing on his knees.
Neither of them had
let Donna leave while she was so shellshocked by Doug’s near death and then
losing him in an entirely different way, resigned she’d sat on the couch and
cried it out with the brothers flanking her.
Dean had tried to talk her down, but gave up and turned on Real Housewives, providing commentary
between screaming matches and botched dinner parties. Sam, on the other hand, had angled his body
away from her, but had placed one big hand flat on her back and left it
there.
Now that she was
gone, the hand was slack on cushion.
“All right, tough
guy, let’s check you out,” Dean announced as he kicked the door shut with a slam
that caused Sam to jerk and wince.
AU where John Winchester loved his boys just a little bit less and put them up for adoption and they were raised in a healthy, functional home.
They’re good boys. Mischievous, too smart for their own good, scrappy, practically attached at the hip, but good boys. Dean had a hard time adjusting at first, nonverbal and nightmare-ridden from post-traumatic stress, prone to panic attacks when alone, but their adopted parents found the best child psychiatrist they could afford and in time he began to heal, began to break out of his shell. Even when he wasn’t talking his empathy was remarkable, and as he’s grown a whip-smart analytical intellect developed to supplement it.
Dean remembers their birth parents like looming figures seen through smoke, but Sam, Sam grew up in this life, and their adoptive family is the only one he’s ever known. He has a rebellious streak a mile wide and it frustrates no one in the world more than it does Dean (still prone to hovering over or trailing behind him with a dreamlike missive ringing in his ears like the last audible echoes of a scream – Look out for Sammy), but he’s smart and strong and driven, independent and devoted all at once. He has these fits at times, though, and Dr Margaret (now the family psychiatrist) calls them rage attacks but they feel like blisters of thick oil growing and bursting inside him from gut to teeth. Over time he learns to swallow them down til he can go somewhere quiet, like the creek where the brothers chased frogs barefoot and shot BBs at old cans, to give in to the festering dark where he can’t hurt anyone else. Everyone knows sweet, sweet Sammy is the one with the temper. It gets chalked up to adolescence but he knows damned well it’s always been this way and probably always will.
They love to spar. Dean’s fondness of sports shooting tapers off in favour of wrestling and team sports (he loves the rush and competition but not so much the hurting-people part), while Sam is kind of scary good at Krav Maga once he finds a trainer for it (the discipline does him good).
At eighteen Dean is buried in scholarship offers – engineering, business, sports, he has heart and brains and beauty enough that the sky’s the limit – but passes up the Big Important Offers for the chance to stay in town close to home. Maybe he’ll do MIT later on but he just wants to stretch out his time close to family as long as he can. That’s where he’s happy. That’s where he’s safe.
(And, Sam suspects, it might also have something to do with wanting to stay near that one friend he’s been so close to since junior high. He’s been placing bets with himself on when his brother will nut up and ask the guy out for years.)
He takes a summer job as a volunteer firefighter. He has a panic attack the first time he has to go in. Even though Dean’s too old to see Dr Margaret as a patient she helps him through it, helps him overcome, but he decides discretion is the better part of valour. The family supports him in quitting as much as they did when he took the job: “You already saved me from the fire,” Sam tells him, “you don’t have to prove anything.”
Two years later Sam cashes in on his bet. Mom and Dad are a little shocked but Eric’s been like a third son for so long that when he comes over for dinner with Dean and they’re lacing fingers together instead of trading playful punches it’s just another layer of family, just another kind of love.
One year later Sam nearly hyperventilates over his acceptance letter from Stanford. It’s a full ride though their parents would have put up all they could afford and help shoulder his loans even if it wasn’t. Dean’s heart breaks a little, but Sam’s joy is like wildfire and they promise to visit each other even though Palo Alto is so far away. They make good on it, trading off driving (Dean) or flying (Sam) on breaks, keeping tabs in email and, later on, Skype. Sam brings a girl home with him for Dean’s graduation. They all love Jess, of course, instantly, and she’s instrumental in talking Dean into going after his MSE after all. Dean starts placing bets with himself on how long it’ll take til she’s wearing a ring.
They were good boys, and they become good men. Stalwart, too clever for their own good, not so attached at the hip anymore but still close, still mischievous, but good men. Dean soaks up love and radiates it back into everything he does and everyone he knows. Sam harnesses the dark inside him and turns it into a driving passion to do good and right wrongs, and doggedly ignores the nightmares that seem to come out of nowhere – Jess is there to soothe him when he wakes. Neither of them are marksmen, neither have Latin chants memorised; they don’t fear the night or the fire, nor go looking for trouble in them.
So when Azazel comes for Sam six months after his twenty-third birthday none of them are prepared to put up a fight.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 