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Getting it Right This Time
Dean let out a frustrated growl as he slammed the fifth drawer he’d searched that hour closed. Huffing out a sigh, he ran his hands over his face, gritting his teeth against the sinking feeling of shame coiling deep in his belly. Again. He’d gone and lost the freakin’ amulet again, and this time he wanted it, too.
Giving up for the moment, Dean kicked out a chair from under the table and sank down onto it, wondering where the damn thing could possibly have gone. He’d put it on the side earlier, after they had got back to the Bunker with Chuck. He couldn’t wear it, after all. The string was worn-through, and if he had put it on and worn it around there would have been a genuine risk of the cord breaking and the amulet falling off and getting lost forever. Well, it seemed like he didn’t need to be wearing it for that to happen.
He’d only gone out for a couple of hours, just enough time to head to the nearest place to sell black leather cord. He’d wanted to replace it, to know that it was safe from being lost before he slipped it back over his head. If there was one thing he couldn’t do, he couldn’t lose the amulet. Not again.
The last time, he’d thrown it away purposefully, both because he’d lost faith in God, but also because he’d been trying to hurt Sam as much as their trip to heaven had hurt him. Almost immediately afterwards, he’d regretted it. So much so, in fact, that he’d considered turning around and going back to the motel, sifting through the trash until he found the damn thing. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he still wanted to hurt Sam, still wanted Sam to feel betrayal that cut so deeply, as deeply as Sam’s heaven had cut him.
Now, though, he knew that Sam had kept the amulet. He must have picked it out of the trash can before they left, keeping it hidden through the years until yesterday, when it led them to God, or Chuck, or whoever he really was. How it had managed to survive Sam’s trip to Hell, and then RoboSam, he didn’t know, but it had, and boy was he thankful for that.
Despite its long life, though, it didn’t appear to have been able to survive a single day on the side in the kitchen in the Bunker. That, Dean couldn’t help but think, was frustrating and probably concerning. Maybe Sam had seen it. Maybe Sam had seen it and got rid of it, finally realising that Dean wasn’t worthy of wearing the damn thing, not after half of the things he’d said to Sam, not after half the things he’d done.
“Hey, man,” Sam’s voice broke Dean’s reverie. He turned to look at the other man.
“Hey, Sammy,” he greeted, and Sam cocked his head at that in a way reminiscent of Cas. His eyes narrowed and he looked a touch confused, but he didn’t say anything, so Dean let it go. Sam often looked at him as if he couldn’t figure out his motives anymore. They’d lost a lot of their closeness since he’d put Gadreel in Sam and let the angel wear him like his best dress, and then gone and got the Mark of Cain afterwards. A lot had come between them. A lot needed fixing, so much so that he couldn’t always tell what Sam was thinking anymore. He missed the closeness they used to have. Another sigh escaped him as he slumped further over the table.
“Something the matter?” Sam asked, coming to sit across from him. He was still watching Dean with that assessing look, as if he were figuring something out. Dean couldn’t work out what it might be, what could possibly be going on in that genius’ head.
“Yeah,” Dean normally wouldn’t ask for help, but in this situation he figured he needed it. Sam was observant; he’d have noticed the amulet around if he saw it. Dean decided to take a chance. “You haven’t seen the amulet, have you?”
“Why?” Sam hedged, eyebrows coming together into that wary line that Dean saw between them so often.
“So I can salt and burn it, Sammy. Why do you think?”
That answer didn’t go over so well with Sam. A huff escaped him, and his nostrils flared a little.
“Why should I know what you want with it, Dean?” He huffed, giving the classic ‘Dean won’t give me a straight answer’ bitchface. “It’s useless now, isn’t it? We’ve found God.”
Taken aback by that answer, Dean leaned back in his chair. Was that really all Sam thought the necklace was good for anymore? Is that why he’d kept it all those years? So he could find God? That hurt.
Anger rising, Dean responded. “Maybe that’s all it was good for to you, Sam, but—”
“That’s not it at all, Dean,” cutting him off, Sam’s bitchface turned into an outright glare. Lesser men had cowered under that glare, but Dean refused to give Sam the satisfaction of seeing him cower. Especially not after learning that Sam didn’t see the same sentimental value in the damn thing as he did. “You’re the one who thinks that it’s only good for finding God.”
“Where did you get that idea from, huh?” The situation was quickly getting out of hand. If they weren’t careful, they were going to start a fight of epic proportions, and they didn’t need that right then.
“From the fact that you just dumped it on the side and left it there, Dean,” Whenever Sam was cross, he had a habit of saying Dean’s name way too many times, and each time he said it he would become more exasperated. He acted as if Dean were a difficult child who needed controlling. It never failed to piss him off.
“Excuse you,” he interrupted before Sam could go on one of his infamous tirades. “I left it there while I went out to get another cord, Mr The-Amulet-Is-Only-Useful-For-Finding-God.”
Sam looked like he had been gearing up to say something else, before he had been cut off by the most confusing thing he’d ever heard. Dean watched him and wondered why.
“What?” He said eventually, after he had opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything. Dean repeated why he had left the amulet on the side, leaving Sam to sit there in what appeared to be an odd mixture of quiet astonishment and abashment. “Oh.” Was all he said afterwards. They both sat without talking for a few moments.
Finally, Dean broke the silence. “So,” he said, hope welling up in him. “Have you seen it?”
“Yeah,” Voice quiet, Sam responded hesitantly. “Yeah, it’s in my room.”
About to ask why Sam would take it back and put it in his room, Dean suddenly realised why. Sam had found it on the side and had probably thought of it as another rejection of the thing, another time that Dean had taken it and left it behind, discarded like trash, like it meant nothing to him, when it had been something that Sam had given out of love, and had let symbolise the bond he and Dean shared.
Marie had been right before: Sam really did see the bond of brotherhood symbolised in that amulet, and seeing it left balled up on the side like that would probably have led to him thinking Dean rejected him again. And why shouldn’t he think that? Dean hadn’t let him say goodbye to Charlie. Dean had chased him around the Bunker and tried to kill him with a hammer. Dean had tried to kill him with Death’s scythe. Sure, he had been under the influence of the Mark of Cain during those times, and one of those times he was a demon, but that was no excuse. Even the fact that Sam had hurt him just as badly at times wasn't much of one. The amulet had meant a lot to both of them. Sammy was his little brother, the most important person to him, and he shouldn’t ever be given a reason to believe that Dean didn’t care about him with all his heart.
Unable to say any of that, knowing it would be too chick-flick for his tastes, he’d said instead, “Can I have it back?”
Sam’s head whipped up at that. Wide eyes stared into Dean’s own hopeful ones, and he realised that, yeah, Sam truly did believe that the bond between them had been too broken, but he didn’t seem to believe it was Dean’s fault. Dean knew he was going to have to change that, but first he had to get the damn amulet back. Step one in his master plan, or something like that.
“You want it back?” His brother’s voice seemed a little breathless.
“Why d’you think I was buying a new cord for it, Sammy?” Dean pointed out, smiling a little at his little brother. “It wasn’t so I could throw it away again.”
“Yeah,” Hurt coloured Sam’s tone as they both cast their minds back to the day that Dean had done it. Dean readied himself to say something, to apologise for that, but then Sam was standing and Dean was following, and they were heading out of the kitchen and towards Sam’s bedroom. “Yeah, you can have it back, Dean.”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach Sam’s room, and once they were through the door Dean could see the bronze charm straight away. It lay innocuously on Sam’s bedside table, string coiled tight around it, evidence of fraying very clear.
Both brothers remained quiet as Sam went over to fetch it. The gargantuan of a man had to stoop down just to collect it from his bedside table, and Dean made a note to try and persuade Sam to buy new furniture for his room. Just because Sam had never had a room before didn’t mean that he couldn’t have one now. This was their home, probably would be for the rest of their lives, and they were damn well going to live in it, not just stay in it. Then Sam was crossing back over to Dean, and that became a problem of another time.
Fingers gripping the knot of the cord, Sam let it unwind as he held it out to Dean. Hand stretched out, he was about to take it, before the string stretched to full length and, with a tiny ripping noise, the cord split in half and the amulet fell down to the floor between them.
“I guess you were right,” chuckled Sam as Dean reached down to pick it up. Relief rushed through him when his fingers found the cool metal, and he cradled it in his palm as he straightened back out. “It did need a new string.”
“Dude, with how long you’ve been carrying it around with you, of course it did,” pointed out Dean, though he regretted the words when Sam flinched again. Obviously, the kid thought he’d made some sort of faux pas by keeping it, though Dean had no idea why that was. He hastened to soften the words. “I mean, I’m surprised it lasted this long.”
“Me too, actually,” embarrassment clouded Sammy’s voice, and Dean listened to what he had to say as he reached into his shirt pocket for the new cord he picked out. It was just the right length already, so it didn’t need to be cut down. He was glad of that. “I knew it was important when I didn’t have my…” He trails off, but Dean lets him continue at his own pace. “Yeah. I was surprised that it was important enough that it didn’t end up getting lost or thrown away anyway.”
Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Instead, he focused on threading the new cord through the loop at the top of the little face.
“I wore it when I jumped, you know? Under my shirt.” Sam murmured, and Dean did look up at that. His brother rarely talked about Hell, and even rarer did he speak about it willingly. He fiddled with the old leather string now, running it through his fingers as he refused to meet Dean’s eyes. Somehow, Dean thought, that made it easier to hear what Sam has to say. Maybe it was just because he didn’t want to see the torment that Hell put behind his brother’s eyes, couldn’t bear to see the Hellfire that even then burned in Sammy’s nightmares. “When Cas pulled my body out, I was still wearing it. I guess He didn’t think it was important.”
“I’m glad,” tying the knot in, Dean spoke up for the first time. His little brother’s head tilted to the side as he tried to work out what Dean meant. “That the Devil didn’t think it was important.” Hurt begins to blossom over Sammy’s face, so Dean tacked on quickly. “Meant I could get it back, didn’t it?”
A small but genuine smile tilted Sam’s lips upward as the hurt vanished. It seemed Dean had said the right thing, then.
Another confession sprung to mind, and he voiced it. “I wanted to go back for it, you know?”
“I didn’t,” Sam confessed, taking the amulet out of Dean’s hands. Dean still hadn’t slipped it over his head, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because, like he thought earlier, he didn’t deserve to wear it. Sammy had been hurt so much by him, after all. What sort of big brother was he, to hurt his little brother, his world, and then presume that their bond was intact, their love just as strong as it had once been? Then, something amazing happened. Sam reached out and looped the cord around Dean’s neck himself, letting the amulet drop into place in the centre of Dean’s chest.
“I didn’t,” he repeated, tracing the line of the cord down until he reached the amulet. “But I know now, Dean,” he patted the amulet, eyes soft, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for him, even if he would never say it out loud. “And that’s what counts.”
Finally pulling his hand back, Sam stood up properly and his shoulders were higher than Dean had seen them in so long. Less hunched in as he was, he looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him. Dean supposed that maybe one had. Whatever the reason for the extra life in Sam, Dean decided it was time to let the chick-flick moment end.
“You want lunch?” he asked. Any other person would have been thrown by the complete change of subject, but not Sammy, not his little brother.
Instead, he responded, “Why do you think I was in the kitchen in the first place, Dean?”
So that was a yes. Shaking his head, Dean took a step back out of Sam’s doorway and into the corridor. “You go back to the library. I’ll bring you lunch.”
Sam looked as if he was going to protest. “Don’t worry,” assured Dean, smirking as his brother strode along next to him. “I’ll make sure it’s something green, bitch.”
“Jerk,” he replied, shaking his head, but the smirk on his face and the twinkle in his eye suggested that he wasn’t actually offended. Rather, he was glad to have the closeness that they had once shared back. Dean was, too. He knew this wasn’t an immediate fix, knew that they were going to have to work at it, work for it, but it was a beginning.
And in the end, what was a new beginning but a chance to get it right this time?
Dean was going to take that chance.