Work Text:
Sam was truly alone. Bobby dead, Dean dead, Kevin dead with the tablets lost to destruction. He walked the long way to Rufus’ cabin. The town was far by foot, but he had no other choice. He couldn’t drive the impala even if he was able to. Dean’s car stood beside the cabin covered by a camouflage tarp. Sam didn’t listen or observe his surroundings. His single focus was on getting to the cabin. The mundane routine he started after recovery stuck with him, even out of the hospital. Most of the things were the same as what they had learned as children, but way harder now.
There was a town about an hour away by foot from the cabin. While the wooden building was well hidden, it wasn’t totally in the middle of nowhere. The cabin stood lonely between the trees. Sam didn’t pay attention as he opened the door with his handful of groceries. He took one step inside when he was pushed to the floor with a harsh shove. Cold water splashed into his face and shirt followed by salt. A half-lifetime of training made him put his hand up to defend himself barely seeing the person who attacked him. His flailing hand ended up cut by strong hands holding it in place.
“So it's you,” said a familiar voice. Sam’s heart sped up from the thought alone. “Then it's my turn. No demon, or leviathan. Come on, Sammy!” said Dean with the force of a soldier who just come back from war. Sam barely stood up when his brother, who he thought was dead, held a hunter knife out to him. Sam knew his face must have mirrored unadulterated shock.
“Dean, no…” Sam stuttered out. He felt lost. His world turning upside-down again. Dean was alive, but he was also dead. He looked down on his arm, blood still trickling down to his hand from the open wound.
“Okay,” Dean said and cut his arm. The silver blade sliced through his skin. So no shapeshifter either. “Let’s do this!” His brother opened his arms for a hug, but Sam took a step back. “Sam?” he asked, the manic smile slipping from his face. He looked the same from the outside, but his eyes hardened.
“I just need a minute.” Sam held out his hand like he wanted to placate Dean. He needed a little bit of time to process what was reality. He needed facts. His arm hurt when the knife cut his arm. When he looked at Dean, he could unfocus from his image, so no hallucinations either. That was good. Sam needed one more piece of evidence. The smell, Dean smelled. Like really bad. “You need a shower,” he said in the end with a shy smile.
“Come here, little bro!” Dean stepped to him and hugged him. His arms encircled his shoulder and waist. Keeping him there with a strong determination. Sam tensed for a second and waited for his brother to catch up to the situation. It barely took seconds before Dean’s shoulders tensed and he let go of Sam only to look at his scarred face from closer. “What…?” he asked with horror in his voice. He tapped his shoulder and then his arm and sides.
Sam knew exactly what he saw there. A burn scar marred the left side of his jaw going down on his neck. While other small scars and lines could be seen, it wasn’t the most unusual thing to change on him though. Something was missing from him. Dean staggered back looking at the empty sleeve of his flannel where his right arm should be. “What the fuck?” he hissed with helpless anger. Sam flinched, not sure if the anger was intended at or for him.
“It’s alright,” the younger said in the end and then leaned down to put his groceries back in the totebag before straightening and making his way to the kitchenette. His arm had red lines where his cut-up arm bled and the beads rolled down.
“It’s not!” said Dean, seemingly putting himself together. He followed his little brother to the small round table “Put it down and show me your arm” he quickly moved beside Sam and took the bag from his hand. He threw it on the table and hurriedly bandaged Sam's arm with a strip of cloth. Sam accepted Dean’s fussing with resignation. While it would have made him mad in the past, that Dean made him feel like an invalid, he was just glad that his brother was really here.
“Where have you been?” Sam asked tentatively. His voice sounded flat even to his ears.
“Purgatory” Dean answered with a hard edge in his tone.
“For the whole year?” Sam asked to make sure.
“Yes.”
There was an awkward silence as they just stood side by side. Dean frowned, not taking his eyes off where his missing arm should be. Sam felt scrutinized by his gaze. Phantom pain made his face scrunch up a bit. Dean’s eyes flashed to his expression. His gaze laser-pointed like a predator’s.
“You can ask,” sighed Sam, exhausted. He walked to the sofa and sat down, not looking at anything in particular. Dean followed him there and sat beside him. His leg started to bounce the moment his ass touched the dusty fabric. Dean looked at him and then at the window, then back to his brother again. His hands reached for the knife handle on his belt and then let go. Sam realized that it somewhat calmed the older Winchester.
“What… How…” Dean licked his lips, clutched his hands together, and then realizing his fidgeting put them on his knees. “When I disappeared…”
“Died” corrected Sam with a sad smile, remembering the search, the deals, the pain.
“When I died,” Dean corrected, readily not even rolling his eyes. “what happened? Right after?”
“I was alone.” Sam reminisced. Thinking back on it. The shock hadn’t set in right away. He stood in that office for at least ten minutes, processing the space around him. “Everyone I knew was dead. I had no one.” His memories swirled around his mind. “Kevin was taken by Crowley and I tried to fight my way out of the building. It was still infested with leviathans.” Dean raised his head too fast to be comfortable.
“Did they…?” Dean asked, looking at his missing arm. Sam flinched a bit and shook his head, not wanting any images of leviathans eating his body parts. He even shivered at the thought.
“No!” He hurried to make it clear, that no munching was made on his body. “I made it out mostly unharmed, but they took Kevin. By the time I found him… by the time I found him he was living his last minutes.” Sam mumbled the end. It was horrifying to watch such a young and bright boy die. It was unfair, what it was. He stopped talking and tried to swallow the lump in his throat that decided to live there from then on. “He told me how to destroy the tablets and I did.” His voice shook as he shrugged with his right shoulder. Sam still had a bigger part of it.
They sat in silence until Dean sprang up and paced before the sofa. He was clearly agitated and furious. It didn’t last long, as his older brother shut down his feelings. He sat back down and whispered the question Sam was the most afraid of. “Did you look for me?” the older brother sought. Sam only gazed at him for a second, before closing his eyes with a tormented finality.
“No,” admitted Sam. This whole year was complicated. So many things happened, too many to explain or even use as an excuse. There was never any excuse, for giving up on Dean. “I am sorry.”
“What the fuck, Sam?” Dean stood in sudden anger. “I would have searched for you until I got you back!” He started to pace again, occasionally looking at Sam.
“We promised to let each other stay dead,” whispered Sam dejectedly. This was the only sensible thing to say. Otherwise, he would start to scream and cry.
“We said this, but we still went and did it anyway!” Dean stopped and narrowed his eyes. “And you just gave up” he fisted his hands and then let them loose. “Fuck” he muttered looking at the ground. His frown was the only emotion he let show on his face.
*
Dean didn’t even know what to think. On one hand, he couldn’t believe that he mattered so little to his brother. Sam would rather choose loneliness than find a way to bring him back. Dean would never have given up on finding Sam. And he never did in the past. On the other hand… ironically the problem was that there was a missing other hand, or arm to be correct.
He was so angry that the only thing that he felt for Sam was disappointment. Sam deserved what happened to him. He deserved the pain and more and… The moment Dean thought that he threw the wrench to the nearest tree and groaned with self-hatred. He was crushed. He was outside fixing his car which seemingly stood in one place for more than half a year. Sam didn’t come out after him. Sam was ignorant, looking only slightly guilty. He needed a hunt and needed Sam to watch his back, but as he was right now, he couldn’t even do that. Leaving him here was worse. Maybe Sam could do research. Dean shrugged. It could be a start.
*
By the time Dean went back inside, he found his brother writing in a notebook. Must be doing his dorky monster diary. He opened the fridge to find exactly zero beer in it.
But he found some sports drinks with pull-up-down caps. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam. “Seriously?” he asked and Sam only glanced up for a moment with a frown on his face and shrugged. “What are you writing?” Dean walked to the cabinet and found an old cup which he filled with tap water. When no answer came he walked behind his brother to look into it.
“Nothing,” Sam said in a rush and shut the notebook, the moment Dean was close enough to look in it. This way, he could only look at the blank cover.
“Do you know if Cas is…”
“We should find a hunt and…”
They both stopped talking until Dean sat down at the table opposite Sam, and waved his hand for Sam to continue.
“Do you know anything about Cas?” Sam asked, looking at Dean hopefully. The elder Winchester felt a pang in his heart. Castiel was AWOL for days now. Not answering any of Dean’s prayers. The moment they came back, the angel disappeared without a word.
“He left, right after we got back here. He is not answering my calls.” He said truthfully.
“Was he alright when he left?” Sam inquired somewhat guiltily.
“Alright?” Dean asked back.
“The last time I saw him, he was still suffering from taking over my… issues” Sam finished lamely.
“He was better.” Dean at least thought so. “We can still hunt together without him.”
Sam looked away and hunched in on himself. “I am not hunting anymore, '' he said quietly. Dean looked his brother up and down. He expected to be disappointed, but the apprehension he felt was nothing compared to his anger.
“So what? You just gave up entirely? Forget about me and Cas?” Dean asked with a silent fury brewing in his voice. “What about other people, huh? You could have helped them.”
“Dean…” started Sam, but Dean was so angry, words that he never would have said to his brother tumbled from his mouth.
“You are pathetic and weak, just as Dad always said,” he snarled and stood up to his whole height. “I will go and do your fucking job for you.” With that, he walked away slamming the door behind himself once again.
Dean never saw Sam’s face crumbling. His eyes watering while his heart shuttered to a million pieces.
*
Sam sat at the table, blankly looking into the dark of the room. It was hours ago that Dean left. He felt a vice gripping his throat. He was exhausted. He wanted to do something to prove his worth, but even lacing his shoes seemed to be impossible. He looked down at his unlaced shoes, the strings stuck into the shoe, so he wouldn’t trip over them. They were snug on his feet.
Drops of tears fell to the floor. Even though he got back Dean he never felt more lonely than at that moment. Dean was right, he was pathetic. It was moments like this, that he felt like he was still in the cage suffering from made-up hellish lives created by the devil.
*
Dean drove into the night. His thoughts swirling around. The most prominent one was anger at Sam, but mostly at himself. Even if Sam has given up, he never should have said what he did. His little brother was strong, stronger than anyone he knew and he went ahead and treated him like his father did all those years ago. If there was one thing he hated it was how Dad talked about Sam. Dismissive and uncaring at best. Verbally abusive at the worst.
He was away for one year and look what happened. Every time Dean wasn’t there, Sam did something stupid, like being manipulated by that demon bitch drinking demon blood. Or losing his arm to some fucked up ritual. Dean didn’t even want to think about all the scars he could see. If he would have been there, it would never have happened. It was a wonder that Sam was even alive without him.
It only meant that Sam couldn’t take care of himself and it was again Dean’s responsibility to do everything. With the tablets destroyed, they couldn’t close hell. All the conflicting feelings surfaced in his mind. Contradicting facts and instincts messing with his emotions.
“Fuck!” He hit the wheel and brake to stop at the side of the road, breathing hard. “Where the fuck are you, Castiel?” he murmured. His breathing sped up and he hit the wheel two more times. All his energy bursting and breaking him down. He needed to let it out. Killing something would be a great solution. But he wasn’t in purgatory anymore, where survival was not an option, but a requirement. It should have felt great to be back alive, at home. Mostly safe. His only home was Sam, and he felt off.
The feeling of getting away from his emotions only grew bigger. Maybe he can find a hunt nearby. It was time to listen to the ignored voicemails on their phones. He wondered how many cries for help he would find in them. Some of them were from Garth telling them about cases, but those were months old. Now, his main phone had more than one message from… Sam.
What the hell?
Dean chose the latest one. ‘Dean… I just… I miss you. I don’t know what to do.‘
Dean stared at the phone confused. This was the latest voicemail. But there were numerous others. He went ahead and chose the oldest of the lot.
‘De’n where the fuck are you? You are not in hell… Crowley, he said it's not possible, but he never mentioned where you are,’ the sound of a bottle hitting concrete and stuttering made the silence more intense. Sam’s voice faded into an unintelligible grumble. Dean heard some cars honking and his heart sped up. ‘I am so…’ there was a sob,’ Can’t I go there too?’ There was more honking, the sound coming way too close. All of the muscles in Dean’s body tensed up. There was a screeching of tires as someone braked. ‘The fuck is your problem? Die somewhere else, you assho…’
That was the end of the first voicemail. His throat tightened and he tried to gulp some air into his lungs. Even if he was miserable Sam still should have tried to save him. Right? He went to the following voicemail.
‘Dean, where the hell are you?’ Sam was whispering and shouting into his phone. His voice was stern and worried. ‘We agreed to meet behind the warehouse.’ His heart skipped a beat. Please no. ‘Kevin is in danger. We need to go in now or he will die.’ There was a pause. Most likely Sam was watching and listening to everything. ‘I will go in.’ The record ended.
What the fuck, his little brother sounded like he thought Dean was still alive and well. Hunting together like always. His hand started to tremble. He looked at all the other voicemails and was terrified of what he would find. But he needed to go on. Dean wanted to know what happened and these recordings told him more than he knew Sam would ever tell him.
‘... what the fuck am I even doing?’ Sammy’s tone was so blank. It was like he had given up. His words weren't slurred, but clear and calm. Like he was in shock. After that, all the messages started to blur together. Sammy was either grieving or hallucinating by the sound of it. In the end, there was a big gap. Dean thought of Sam right now. His arm was missing and his expression shattered. Fuck!
He gave gas and turned around.
*
Sam took a deep breath and put his hunting knife into his left boot. It was a little loose, but he would manage if he put the sheath inside his socks. He found a hunt. Vampires. He slung his bag on his back and started for the door. It took a long time to put everything together single-handedly, but he managed. It was manageable. He knew he was only trying to calm himself down. Dean wanted him to hunt. And he felt real. This time Sam was sure he was real. No doubt.
He dreaded trying to hunt again when just two days ago, he fell down the last steps of the stairs going down to the basement of the cabin. It was such a long time ago that he felt like he wanted to prove himself to their dad, that he almost forgot what it felt like to be this determined. Fighting for the smallest of affections. Dean never made him feel like this, until now.
Sam will go hunting, even if Dean isn’t real. In the past, he always made the wrong call. His choices left Dean and Earth in shutters. If he chose retirement, then maybe that was the wrong call again. Still. Maybe Dean will forgive him if he can make the right choice now. If he could be a good hunter again. Sam wanted to leave a note, but he thought better of it.
*
Dean rushed back to Rufus’ house, flying out of the car and rushing to the door.
“Sammy!” he shouted to the empty room. Sam wasn’t there. He ran around but found nothing. The only reminder that Sam was there was the haphazardly cut food. His stomach dropped and he looked at the kitchen. It wasn’t messy per se, but all the things were on the counter. Dean pushed down his anxiety and tried to search for clues, about where Sam could have gone to. As he was looking around, he found a crumpled piece of paper under the sofa. He kneeled to retrieve it. It was a page ripped out from a notebook. Sam’s. He smoothed it out as well as he could. Looking at the contents of the page, tears welled in his eyes. There weren't even any recognizable words. Sam and Dean were right handed and that meant, his little brother couldn’t even write right now. “Fuck!” he shouted.
As sad as this was, at least Dean had a chance to find Sam. His little brother can’t drive, therefore he needed to find a city to take a bus or hitchhike. Either way, Dean needed to go.
He jumped into the impala and revved up the engine. Right at the road he stopped not knowing which way to go. The nearest city was on the left.
Dean just stood there. Every minute felt like an hour. He took a moment to look into the rear-view mirror and gasped. He stopped the car and ran back to the side of the house. There was a small hunting knife there. He knew this one. Sam always put it into his boots for emergencies. He glanced up and saw a trail into the forest. It was a big gamble. Sam could have gone anywhere. He hesitated only for a second. Dean knew his little brother the best. If he walked, then he should have seen him from where he drove from. Dean was away for hours, it was dark, so no bus should have departed from the small city nearby.
It was already dark and braving the forest was the stupidest idea ever. Would Sam go? Dean groaned and took his flashlight and his shotgun from the trunk of the car. He already had his knife and handgun in his belt. Now it was time to track after his brother into the forest.
*
Dean had a hard time tracking through the woods, but the further he went, the more evidence he found of Sam following the narrow path. He must have been five miles from the cabin when his little brother’s trail disappeared into a big scene of struggle.
Two deeper footprints were stretching down a hill beside the trail, and a broken branch on one side of a tree. Dean hissed on the clear sign of Sam careening into the slope ending in a small ravine. He directed his flashlight down to try and see if his little brother was down there. The first thing he saw was Sam’s bag, and right after that, almost at the deepest point of the hill a lump of body. The angle of the slope was manageable, so the only thing Dean could do was go down there. From the top, Sam’s breathing wasn’t visible and as no movement came from him Dean had no other choice than to go down there. He slipped a few times, but after ten minutes of miserable descent, he came to a stop beside Sam. His body was muddy, but his breathing seemed normal.
“Sammy!” He said when he reached him. “Hey! You ok…
“Don’t yell” croaked Sam.
“What the fuck?!” exclaimed Dean and he sat down beside his brother. “What happened?”
“I am resting, '' answered Sam like that was a normal thing to say at the bottom of a ravine, laying dirty on the ground and missing one shoe.
“You are resting?” His eyebrows almost met his hairline. Sam still didn’t open his eyes. “Sam, what the hell is wrong with you? Where did you even want to go?”
“Can we just not?” asked the younger brother.
“No. Because you are chilling in a fucking forest for no good reason.” Dean wasn’t exactly angry, only irritated enough to want to know the answers.
“Okay. What do you want to know, huh?” asked Sam, as he pushed himself up with one hand from the ground. “Whatever I do, I am always doing something wrong. Dad, you and Castiel always tell me that and I am lost, okay?” He started angry, but as he went on, his voice became softer.
“That’s not true.”
“But it is. It wasn’t even six hours ago that you told me to go back hunting.” Sam explained.
“This is why you walked into a forest at night?” asked Dean with a little bit of hesitation. He felt like shit all over again. Sam looked dejected and sad. There were no puppy eyes, no sad smiles, only cold reality.
“Partly… I am tired and mortified. I can’t even trek the woods with one arm, not talking about everything else. I know hunting is your life, but I just can’t do it anymore.” Dean opened his mouth to talk back but closed it when he looked at Sam. His eyes were lifeless. “ All our life, we went through hell and back. Don’t you think we deserve to retire? To just live our life without getting into dangerous situations all the time?” Sam looked at him with his eyes misty.
“You want an apple pie life?” Asked Dean silently.
“I just don’t want to fight against you. I don’t want to burden you. And I want the same for Castiel. I know he deserves more than to look out for an abomination.”
“You are not…” Started Dean, but stopped. He remembered what Cas always called his brother. Even he called Sam a monster at least once. He looked up at the sky, not daring to look at his brother. He remembered hell, purgatory, Cas’ betrayal, Lucifer, Crowley, and all the stuff they learned.
When he looked at Sam now, he was a whole different person when Dean got him from Stanford. Two years away from hunting, spending it at the university made Sammy happy. Something heavy settled into Dean’s stomach. Did he ever even see Sam happy before? He only smiled when Dean was in a good mood…
“Maybe…” he started gently. “We could go on a vacation.”
When Dean looked at Sam, his face was full of suspicion. Whatever he was looking for in Dean’s look, he found it and slowly nodded. “Sounds good”
There was a long way before them, but Dean felt better already. They were the best hunters, so they can definitely be the best at living the picket fence life as well.