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The first thing he noticed when Castiel and him came back was how silent the bunker was, Sam frowned, usually Jack would have run up to him, telling him about his day, more recently, he would come up to him and shyly ask what he thought was the best thing to do for some moral question he had that day. He never asked Dean, Sam, shamefully, reveled in the attention the boy gave him, it was something that was only his, he had to share everything with Dean when they grew up with dad, their beds, his hand-me-down clothes, even his toys, when his dad bought them that is. Jack was the first thing in a long time that was only his, he had been jealous of Cas when he came back. He shouldn’t have, he knows he shouldn’t. But he had been so afraid, afraid that he would take his place in Jack’s life, it took him too long to see that having Cas here didn’t mean less for him but more for Jack. Sam frowned darkly at his brother when he came upon him in the kitchen, nursing a drink already and it was barely 2 in the afternoon.
“Where’s Jack?”
Dean winced and drained his glass, staying silent. Sam’s fear picked up, he had wanted him to bring him back, he wanted him to get him in the box. He hadn’t done it, he refused, so where was he?
“Dean, what have you done?”
“I had to, Sammy. He killed mom, he was dangerous, I had to do something–”
“Damn it, Dean! Where is he?”
Dean drained another glass before he finally looked him, dead in the eye. “The box–”
All the air in his lungs was sucked from his chest and his legs threatened to crumble beneath him. He didn’t wait for Dean to explain himself, nothing could fix this, nothing he said would ever be enough to convince him that Jack should’ve been put in there. Nothing he could say would make him think that locking Jack away in the dark, without him, without him to hold him when he had nightmares, without him to soothe him back to sleep with the Enochian version of ‘Hey, Jude’, was the right decision. Nothing could convince him that Jack should be away from him, away from the person who could help him, nothing! The betrayal cut deep, deeper than Amy, because he wasn’t leaving a stranger motherless, he was leaving Jack without him. It stung and burnt and curled about his chest, thrashing around inside, biting and nipping, ripping away all the scarred parts of his soul. It was almost funny. How his brother had forced his soul back inside him and then destroyed it. Sam threw himself into the basement, Jack’s name on his tongue, only he didn’t need to, Jack stood before him, in the smoke with his eyes glowing in the midst. Relief surged through him, he was about to step forward when Jack spoke.
“You lied to me.”
“No, Jack–”
“YOU LIED!”
He threw out a blast, sending him crashing into the shelves. Sam sobbed, the sob rattled through his body. The tears burned as they fell. His lungs ached with pain and his heart hammered. Nothing he did could stop his crying, if his dad had been here, he would have scolded him for such weakness. But his dad didn’t understand, he couldn’t. He’d just lost his—
“Where is he? Where’s the kid?”
Sam turned his eyes on his brother, the despair changing to buckling hatred. His brother stood there, looking around in all his self righteous glory, as if he hadn’t destroyed him, as if he hadn’t destroyed Jack, as if he hadn’t taken him away and now he hated him and it was all his fault.
“How dare you,” he snarled, his lips curled along his teeth, hate burned like hellfire along his skin and he’d know all about hellfire, he’d been the one in the cage, not him. He was the one who Lucifer destroyed bit by bit and Jack was the one who’d put some little pieces of him back together. Now he was gone and it was ALL HIS FAULT! “You bastard! He had me! I was helping him—!”
“Sammy, it wasn’t enough! None of us know what it’s like to have no soul, you couldn’t have helped him!”
And wasn’t that just so funny, he didn’t remember, of course he didn’t. It was one of the few things he regretted, he knew it. He’d gotten good at reading people back in the cage, he didn’t want to remember how he broke him, he didn’t want to remember how he had been tortured after. But he did, he remembered everything and it was all because Dean had made Death give him back his soul, his broken, bleeding soul that had finally started to heal, just a little bit and now all the light was taken.
“I do.” Sam hissed. “I know what it’s like to have no soul.”
Dean chewed his lips and went silent. “It ain’t the same.”
“It’s never the same when it comes to Jack and I until you want it to be the same!”
“Sam, I’m—”
“I don’t care.” he cut across, his snarl lay heavy on his lips. “You’re going to help me find him and then you’re never going to see us again,”
“You’d choose him? Over me? He ain’t family Sam!”
No, he’s more to me than that.
-
Sam stayed on the other side of the mine, focusing desperately on the threat in front of him. If he looked away, even for a moment, he would snap him in half, just like he used to. He would probably choose one of the worst punishments this time, the raping was never as bad as some of the others. He shuddered at the memories as some of them came to mind. Lucifer was staring at the hungry vampires, something akin to fondness in his eyes. Or maybe reminiscent? He was certainly remembering some.
“So, what’s it gonna be then? Me or them?”
“You won’t kill me.” he whispered, his voice scratched with the Enochian, he hadn’t spoken it in a long time, he never wanted to when just the thought of it… but he had to, it was one of his rules. He hasn’t been away long enough to forget. No matter how he fought for it. “I know, you won’t.”
Lucifer tilted his head to the side and Sam gasped sharply, stepping back when he walked forward, Lucifer chuckled and stopped mid-step.
“Now, now, champ. Let’s not forget our rules.”
Sam winced and looked to the side, hardly breathing when he came within spitting distance from him. Lucifer grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down so he was smaller than him. As if he needed to do it in the first place, he was already the smallest he’d ever been.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I won’t kill you. What sort of father would I be if I did? No, I won’t kill you. But I’ll have a lot of fun…we’ve got some years to catch up on, pal.”
-
Sam stays quiet as Dean and Chuck talk about Jack, they talk about him as if he’s a monster, as if he’s something that should never have existed. Maybe that was true. Maybe he was too powerful, maybe he was destroying the world. But he couldn’t think of that, he couldn’t think of Jack, wonderful, sweet, bubbly Jack and see him as a monster. He couldn’t look at him as a monster when he remembered the days when Jack snuck into his room, falling asleep with his mouth hanging open and drool coming from his lips, at peace for the first time in weeks. He couldn’t see the monster when he remembered how he died. How he died beside him and all Sam could do was watch on, helpless as he slowly died, more and more. So no, Chuck, he wasn’t a monster. Just a kid…just a small kid who needed help that no one wanted to give because they were afraid. But he wasn’t. He’d never been afraid.
Why does everyone hate me?”
Sam jumped, looking around the bunker. Chuck and Dean were too busy talking but Cas looked him straight in the eye. He had heard it too.
I didn’t ask to be Lucifer’s son, I didn’t ask to be a monster, I didn’t ask Mary to be there. I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS!
Cas walked towards him and stared at him emphatically. Urging him to his feet, urging him to take his best friend’s hand. Sam did and he felt the pulling of his gut and then the bunker was gone and he stood in front of Jack. He was sitting alone, watching everyone as the world went right again. His glare could kill but his glare never scared him. Jack stared up at him in confusion before he settled back to glaring.
“Jack–oh my God, I’ve been looking every–are you okay?”
Jack turned to look at him, distrust and hurt laid bare in his innocent eyes. Sam was rather proud when he didn’t collapse to his knees and apologize over and over, it wouldn’t do much but at least it was something.
“How’d you find me? No one was meant to find me.”
Sam wondered that too, he thought about lying and saying he stumbled on him by chance but he didn’t. Instead he settled for the truth, the whole truth, too much hurt had been caused by lying, he was done with it. Sam held up his hands and nodded to the empty space beside him.
“Can I sit?”
Jack shrugged, and Sam sat, breathing in deeply and trying to stop himself from reaching out and hugging him. He didn’t want to be hugged right now.
“I heard you.”
Jack turned to him, his eyes narrowed in confusion, Sam elaborated, explaining how his voice had appeared in his mind and how Cas was able to take him where he needed to be.
“Did you want me to?”
He screwed up his face, confused before he settled on a shrug. “I wanted someone…”
“I didn’t know about the box,” he said. Ignoring how his voice became strangled. “I didn’t know what Dean was doing. If I had…I would have stopped it. You wanted the whole world to stop lying, and I’m not lying now.”
Jack glared at him in rage. But Sam didn’t back down, he wouldn’t wither beneath his look, not when it was deserved and not when he needed him, now more than ever, to not be afraid of him.
“How do I know that?”
“Do the spell again.” he invited. “Do it on me, just me. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything.”
Jack seemed a bit apprehensive but he did as he asked, he placed his fingers on his temple, he was expecting some kind of swish but it was nothing, he didn’t feel any different. Part of him wondered if it was because he didn’t want to hurt him.
“Why did you hate Lucifer? Before?”
Sam smiled bitterly, already with the hard questions, he should have spoken about it with him but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been strong enough. “The first time the apocalypse happened, I was meant to say yes and let him destroy the world. I didn’t. I fought back and threw us in the cage. I spent thousands of years there…Lucifer likes his toys, you see. He liked torturing me, getting me to the very edge of death and then bringing me back, only to do it all over again.”
Jack sucked in his lips. Trying to discern what he was meant to feel. “Do you hate me? Did you ever hate me?”
“No.” he answered immediately. “Never.”
“Why? You said Lucifer did all those…terrible things, why don’t you hate me?”
“Because you remind me of myself,” he admitted. “When I was little, a demon named Azazel fed me his blood, it gave me powers, I still have them. I just don’t use them. I can’t…there’s a lot of wrapped up in there. When I saw you and you called me ‘father’” he paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. “I was already set to fight for you even before you said that but…that was the moment that I knew you—”
“What? That you what?”
“That I knew you were my son. No matter what happened. You would…you would always be mine.”
Jack’s eyes widened and he looked away, gaping like a fish. “But…all those people—grandma—”
“It was an accident, what happened to her, you didn’t mean it. I could never hate you for something you didn’t mean and all those people, you were hurt and angry. You still have a soul, if you didn’t. You wouldn’t be as hurt as you are now. I know, I was soulless once too.”
Jack rubbed at his eyes, tears falling from them. Sam wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight as he sobbed, sniffling against his heart. Sam’s voice had failed him and it was all he took not to cry.
"You're my son, Jack.” he whispered. “That’s all there is to that.”