Chapter Text
✦
Four.
He’s been counting them.
Well, that’s not true. There have been at least ten today, but he doesn’t count the little ones. The ones that only make him dizzy and let him feel like his face is going to hit the ground. Dad told him to stop, but he is not here anymore, only the shadow of him and the pain of looking ahead to where he always was. And Dean can’t listen to his thoughts and to be honest, he doesn’t pay much attention to Sam anymore.
So why should he stop when the earthquakes don’t?
He looks around. The silence in the wasteland is disturbing as Sam trudges forward, his too-big-for-him boots sinking into the dead earth. Before it all, there had been a dense jungle here in the north of Mexico. Now, it’s an ashen expanse. A cold place. The skeletal remains of trees stand dark and burnt in the nuclear winter. Leaves are a thing of the past. Rain and sunlight are gone too—at least the kind made of water. The rain of ashes is more common.
The ground rumbles beneath his feet, then, the earth shakes. Sam’s eyes wide with the dust in his face, about to lose his balance when Dean grabs his arm, keeping him in place until the motion passes.
“Hey, hey, hey! What did I tell you, Sam?” Dean asks, voice on the edge and eyes looking ahead. He always looks ahead now. “Have to be more careful. They’re getting bigger and bigger.”
Sam knows that. This one is the biggest today, but not as big as the one two days ago. That one made a lot of trees fall.
“Sorry, I was thinking.”
“Shit, don’t you always?” Dean says with a roll of eyes, just to start walking. “Come on. It’s getting late.”
If Sam’s not wrong, it’s almost three o’clock. It’s August and with the way the clouds cover the sky, the night comes early. Is the sun still up there? The last time they saw it was almost two years ago. Right after the bombs fell.
War started like most wars do, with disagreements. Ultimatums. Stupid men in power. And an escalation that no one thought would happen. But it did. In 1994 nuclear fire rained from the sky and turned cities to dust, shattering nations, and reducing civilization to scattered survivors fighting over scraps. Above all, the supernatural came out to play its part, feeding the chaos. Demons, ghosts, and worse.
Today, all they have is a dead world and a grey sky. Mad people. Bad people. Starving people.
At least Sam has Dean.
They used to have Dad.
As they keep walking through the desert place, Sam looks at Dean’s back and then to the sky.
Dad, if you are there, take care of Dean. Mom, you too, please.
Dad went down fighting. It took four bullets from a group of scavengers to stop him. All of them in the back. He was a hero, and the people who killed him were cowards. And yet, they lived, and Sam and Dean ran as orphans.
They hadn’t even had time to bury him.
No salt.
No fire.
Could Dad be a ghost?
How is that fair?
But it was Sam’s fault. There’s no other way to put it. If he were bigger and less dumb Dad would be alive today and Dean would never lose his smile. Sam should never have trusted strangers and Dad paid for it. He knows better now.
Each step feels heavier than the last since that April when they lost Dad.
The constant tremors and hunger are routine now. The pain. The missing part in their family. The way sometimes Sam thinks Dean hates him. Sam does it.
“Move those legs, Sam.”
“Sorry,” Sam says, walking quicker and thinking less. “I’m coming.”
✦
They stop half an hour later, next to the beginning of a mountain slope. Feet are killing Sam, and he knows Dean’s tired too, even when Dean doesn’t say anything about it.
The fabrics they use on the floor to sleep on are thin and don’t really cover them from the cold or the ground, but it’s better than nothing. Since they lost the Impala due to lack of gas, they travel light, so Dean and Sam sleep together, like they did a few years ago. Their backpacks only carry what is essential. Little ammunition for the gun Dean keeps. Lanterns. Two pairs of clothes for each one. Some cans of food. And memories. The keys to the Impala. Dad’s journal. A lighter. A photo of the four of them when Sam was a baby.
Their entire life in two backpacks.
“Think I’m gonna hunt a rabbit or something.”
Sam looks up from the ground he’s lying on. Dean stands in front of his open backpack. Sam knows what that means. Food is done, but Sam has some.
“Why? There’s still food in my backpack.” Sam sits up and reaches for his small backpack. Put his hands inside and feel its contents. “They were here,” Sam says as his heart races. The cans inside are gone somehow.
Dean looks at him silently and then shakes his head. “I told you to be more careful.”
“But Dean, they were here. I swear.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”
“How?”
“The fuck do I know, Sam? Do I have to watch out for your—” Dean stops abruptly and looks regretfully for half a second. “It doesn’t matter.”
Dean looks around and Sam follows his gaze, fighting the wetness in his eyes. There is nothing here but them and a lonely mountain.
“I don’t think there’s food here, Dean.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean says, clicking his tongue. “Maybe up there there’s something worth eating.”
Sam looks up to the brown mountain. It’s not as big as others, but maybe it would take two hours to get to the top. Biting his lips, Sam looks at his feet, they are hurting but that doesn’t matter.
Dean lets out a snort. “You’re not going.”
“What?” Sam asks maybe too quickly, heart breaking a little bit. “I can walk.” He stands up and gives two jumps to let Dean know he’s fine.
“It’ll be faster if I go alone.” His tone is serious and again, he’s not looking at Sam.
“Dad said we should be together.”
Dean’s jaw tightens and then Dean shakes his head slowly. Lips pressed in a stiff grimace. “Dad’s not here.”
Sam knows. How could Sam not know that? He sees their missing Dad all the time. When he’s walking and ahead of Dean there’s just air. When he opens his backpack and finds the journal. In the smile Dean doesn’t wear anymore. In Dean’s tone that tells him it’s his fault.
“You coming back?” Sam asks, voice all trembling. The ground under him looks interesting right now.
“Fuck, Sam.” Sam heard Dean’s backpack zip shut before Dean lifted it off the ground. “’Course I’m coming back. Stop being dramatic. Six hours top, okay? Just gonna get you something to eat.”
“Okay.”
Sam stays there as he hears Dean’s steps getting away. His heart screamed for him to stop Dean, to fall to his knees if he had to. Instead, he doesn't move. Hands to his sides. Eyes, all wet. Ground, a little wet too.
Maybe today, it will rain.
✦
Dean should have been back by now.
Sam sits against a dead tree, his arms wrapped around his knees under a blanket as he looks in the direction Dean left. His stomach, clenching with unease. His breath comes out in misty puffs as the temperature drops further, making him feel alone. One hand tightly gripping the backpack. The other one with the knife Dad gave him.
Dad.
Dad told them to be together and Sam intends to keep Dad’s last wish.
Blinking in rapid succession, hand wiping away the moisture on them, Sam stands, sheets falling to the floor in a silent motion. Can’t suppress the gulp in his throat. He takes his time, backpack now secured in his back. Hands shake less and less every second.
Just breathe.
Coal and dust fill his lungs with every breath. Dean is out there alone, and Sam needs to be with him. Has to. The earth rumbles beneath him and Sam closes his eyes as he stands firmly just like Dean told him to. There have been a lot of tremors today, at least five big ones since Dean left and Sam is ready.
He waits and takes the first step, legs feeling wobbly. Then the second one.
A crack behind him.
With the knife in hand, Sam turns around. His heart wants to burst out of his rib cage.
“Heya, Sammy.”
“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice sounding alien to himself.
His big brother’s walking towards him with a smirk on his face, then raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Sam’s legs take control of his body and it’s not until he feels the air on his face, he understands what’s happening. He throws himself into Dean, arms going around his brother’s torso into a tight hug.
Dean’s safe.
Unhurt.
“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean lets out a breath, when Sam crashes into him. “You missed me, uh?” There’s a little bit of tease in his tone, but he hugs him back. Dean’s hand petting his back like he is a little kid. And Dad’s leather jacket feels like coming home. He breathes it, a deep and discreet sniff. It smells a little weird from Dean’s normal accent. The sweat and leather are there, but there’s something else.
Sam frowns.
Dean’s voice cuts his thoughts. “Told you I’d find something to eat.”
“You’re four hours late,” he says in a shaking and muffled voice thanks to the way his face is pressed against Dean’s ribs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry about that.” He pats Sam in the back and then grabs Sam’s shoulders back to look at him. “I told you there were rabbits,” he says with a tiny smile as he raises his hand over Sam’s face to let him look at the dead animal. A small rabbit. It’s all white with zero traces of blood. It looks pure, contrasting with the world they’re living in.
How did Dean hunt it?
“I’m just that good.”
“What?”
“I say I’m just that good, Sammy.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t need to. It was all over your face, dude. Chill. Everything’s fine, Sammy.” Dean takes Sam’s face to look at each other’s eyes. “We’re fine, Sammy. Okay?”
“O—Okay,” he says, looking back at Dean. There’s a smile that he hasn’t seen in Dean in a long time. His freckles look a little more alive as well as his skin. Dean just needed a little time alone. Away from Sam. His heart breaks a little, but he keeps his face straight and a firm tone. “Yes, Dean.”
“Good. Now, be a good brother and pass me the lighter.” Dean walks to the center of their little camp. “Let’s cook, Sammy.”
Sam goes back to his backpack and reaches for the lighter as Dean goes to the closest trees and breaks some branches from the trees. As he does so, Dean keeps a tiny smile on his face and a tone in his mouth. Metallica. Dean stops and looks at Sam from where he’s standing and smiles a little more.
Sam can’t help but smile too and caresses the skin of his arms where he hugged Dean.
Maybe, they will be fine after all.
✦
For some reason, it’s a little warmer today.
They are both lying on a sheet while another covers them from head to toe. Usually, they are freezing at night, but not now. Maybe the weather is finally getting better. Maybe it’s his stomach that keeps him warm, he hasn’t eaten that well in a long time and admits the roast rabbit didn’t taste bad at all. Or maybe, it’s the way Dean has kept a hand over him and how they are both pressed together like they used to do when they were kids.
Maybe it’s all of them combined.
Either way, for the first time in a long time, Sam feels lighter.
He wants to suppress a little smile, but he can’t.
This is good.
As a sign, Dean hugs him tighter, bringing their bodies even closer together. And Sam lets him.
There’s no other place he’d rather be.
✦
After they eat the rest of the rabbit, they keep walking. It’s a quiet and calm morning walk.
Dean moves by his side, a hand over Sam’s shoulder as he looks down at him from time to time with a relaxed face.
Maybe they both just needed a little space.
We’re going to be fine, Dad.
✦
Dean keeps finding food easily.
It’s a lucky streak. That’s what Dean says.
Sam feels full and with energy to walk all day long, but Dean says it’s better to only walk for two or three hours a day.
When Sam asks why, Dean just smiles and taps Sam on the head.
Sam doesn’t press it.
✦
“I miss Dad,” Sam admits as he watches the chicken getting roasted in the flames of the campfire.
He’s been missing Dad since the very last time he saw him, but he didn’t want to bother Dean. But today, the thought of him is tucked inside his heart and wants to get out.
“I know.” Dean’s sitting right beside Sam as he looks at the fire too, knees bent and his arms embracing them. “But we have to carry on.”
Dean’s never said that before. The tone is a little off. Maybe too much hope and too little sadness.
Sam looks at him.
Dean’s eyes shine against the light and a tiny smile is on his face. Sam has been looking up to Dean since he can remember and this is new. His shoulders are relaxed, his eyes soft and the smile never leaves his face now.
How does he do it? They are at the end of the world.
“We have to keep going for the people we love,” Dean says while giving him three gentle taps on the head, just like Dad used to do. “You hear me, Sammy?”
“I guess,” he says with a sigh. Heart beating hard inside his ribs. “For Dad.”
“Yeah… for Dad.”
✦
The wind hits his skin as Dean’s laughter reaches his ears.
“You’re getting too old, Dean,” Sam taunts as he turns around and run backward just to get tackled by Dean and thrown him to the ground.
The hit is hard and happens so fast Sam’s brain has trouble processing it.
“Sam—Shit! Are you okay?”
He takes his time to collect himself, eyes a little out of focus and back hurting like a bitch. “Ouch,” he gasps as he tries to stand up, but he can’t since Dean’s over him.
“Sorry, Sammy. I overdid it, didn’t I?”
“My back hurts.”
“Shut! Let me help you.”
With that, Dean stands up and the next thing Sam knows is being lifted by two arms. He hates bridal style. It makes him feel weak.
“Dean,” he whines. He’s being childish but doesn’t care.
“Yeah, yeah, you hate it, I know,” Dean replies in a sweet tone, then gently lowers Sam back onto a blanket on the floor.
A blanket on the floor?
Dean is right above him, his face covering the grey sky, Sam can’t see much but his green eyes. So green. His hand grabs the sheet and squeezes it. Air comes slowly back into his lungs. Dean looks weird now.
“Shhh, don’t think, Sammy. You’re fine.”
Yeah, they’re fine.
✦
They haven’t seen anyone in at least two weeks.
“Why?” Sam asks, later that day. Dean is at the other side of the fire.
His back still hurts, and his head feels clearer now.
“The heck do I know, Sammy,” Dean says, standing up. Hands in his pockets and not looking at Sam.
Sam squints at him.
“It’s just weird.”
“I’ve been thinking about it too, you know?” Dean moves, standing next to where Sam’s sitting. “And I don’t wanna know.” There’s an edge to his voice. Too strange for Sam.
“You think we’re alone, now?” Sam doesn’t want to know either, but the researcher in him makes him ask.
“Don’t say that.” Dean’s voice turns sharp.
Cold.
Final.
✦
Sam shifts, the cold of the floor creeping into his bones. Dean’s arm lies across his chest like it has been doing lately as Sam tries to find a better position. He moves slowly to not wake his brother, but the ground is too cold and uncomfortable tonight that it doesn’t let Sam be.
“Sleep.”
Sam winces. “Dean?” he whispers. “Did I wake you?
Dean takes a few seconds to reply, and Sam closes his eyes. Dean’s getting mad at him again. “I was already awake, it’s okay,” he says. “No biggie, little brother. You okay?”
The anger Sam expects isn’t there, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Dean sounds like he’s been awake for a while.
“I just—Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies. Dean already has too much on his plate and Sam can’t solve this by himself.
“Tomorrow before going to sleep we’ll check the ground, okay? This one is very stiff.”
“Yes, please,” he says with a smile on his face. They are both going to decide what’s best for them.
At least, when talking about where they are going to sleep.
✦
The ground splits with a big crash, jagged fissures in a zigzag as they walk.
Sam stumbles, arms windmilling to stay upright. The motion is all too quick, and Sam doesn’t see the crack until it’s almost eating him alive. He sees inside for a split second. It’s too empty. Too lonely. And Sam wants to cry. His body is numb and heart beats almost out of his chest.
Then, something or someone jolts him away. He goes flying and falls at least ten yards away from it. The blow knocks the wind out of him and before he knows it, Dean is at his side, hands gripping Sam’s arm.
The shaking doesn’t stop, but he doesn’t care. Dean’s grip is too tight. “Dean, you’re hurting me,” he shouts, trying to out sound the earth’s scream.
“Do. Not. Let. Go.,” Dean orders, the dust surrounds them, but Sam still sees Dean. He has wild eyes
Sam is crying.
“Dean!” He hits Dean in the chest and kicks him, but his brother doesn’t let go.
He is scaring Sam.
It’s not until the shaking ends that Dean lets go. Sam falls to the ground, tears in his eyes and snot in his nose.
“Sammy, are you okay?” Dean asks, kneeling in front of Sam.
Out of pure instinct, Sam backs away. “You hurt me!”
“Shut, Sam, sorry. I—The adrenaline,” he says with a sorry tone. “Let me see it. Are you okay?”
“No! I’m not. Stay away from me!”
Dean stands still in place, his eyes widening almost out of their sockets. “Sammy.” He shakes his head. A motion too quick and then he looks normal. A sorry face and a small smile in the corner of the mouth. “Sorry, little brother. I don’t know what happened to me.”
It sounds weird.
And as the dust settles, Sam notices how Dean is completely clean.
✦
Sam decides not to speak to Dean anymore.
He doesn’t want to see Dean for now, even when he’s following him down the path with all the dead trunks in the ground.
His brother has been trying to talk to him. How’re you feeling? Is your arm still hurting? Sammy, come on, talk to me. Sorry, I hurt you, but I was trying to keep you safe.
Sam knows that, but there’s something more. There was something weird about the way Dean acted. Maybe Dean was too worried. It can’t be that. If Dean were in danger Sam would lose it too. But still, something feels off.
It’s been a whole day since the earthquake and Sam’s arm hurts only a tiny bit. Sam looks down at it and makes a face. The bruises Dean’s fingers left on him, once very visible, now seem almost imperceptible. Sam pauses, eyes looking everywhere. The bruises don’t disappear this quickly.
“Something wrong?” Dean asks from ahead, his eyes soft and a small smile on his lips. Then, he averts his gaze to Sam’s arm. Dean turns back to him, his footsteps light, the sound almost nonexistent.
When Dean is close, Sam takes a few steps back. His heart beats fast, and he feels stupid for being afraid of his brother.
Dean stops, looking at him. His soft eyes, replaced by sad ones, and Sam feels shitty for making Dean feel bad.
Looking down, Sam says, “no, it doesn’t hurt.” Dean doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. “But...” Sam bites his lips for a second, takes a few steps toward Dean and continues. “The bruises...”
“Let me see,” Dean says, taking Sam’s arm gently. “Uh... I see, they’re almost gone. That’s good.”
“I know, but... Shouldn’t they last longer?”
Dean replies without taking his eyes off Sam’s arm. “I guess, but...” Dean waits a second and closes his eyes as if what he’s about to say hurts. “You’re growing up, Sammy. Your body heal fast.”
“I guess,” Sam replies, his feet playing with the loose soil on the ground. He’s never heard of that.
“Remember when I tackled you,” Dean tells him with a soft smile, hand caressing right where the bruises are. “You healed fast too. Don’t you?”
“Uh,” Sam thinks. Looking back at it, yeah, he did heal fast. His ribs hurt and for a second, he thought he had a broken rib, but after a few hours all the pain went away.
“See? Told you. You’re growing up.” Dean says, smiling at him. “Oh! and look at it, no more bruises.”
Sam looks at his arm and he can’t stop the smile when he sees his arm clean of the dark spots.
“What did you do?” Sam asks, eyes squinting at Dean.
“Me? I did nothing. What did I tell you?”
“That I’m growing up.”
“Exactly,” Dean says and turns around. “Let’s keep walking, Sammy. See how far we can go.”
“Yeah.” Sam looks at Dean, stands still for a second and then follows his brother.
Dad never told him any of this.
He would remember that.
Or at least, he’d remember reading about it.
But he doesn’t.
Is Dean lying?
✦
“Do I have something in my face?” Dean asks, smirking at Sam. “End of the world and still have it, don’t I?”
Unable to do more, Sam looks away. “I wasn’t looking at you.” Sam says. The truth is, Sam was looking at him. No. He was watching him. Ever since the bruising incident, Sam hasn’t stopped looking for a sign.
Letting out a small laugh and with a big grin on his face, Dean replies, “If you say so, Sammy. But I’ve got eyes in my back, I can see anywhere.”
Then, Dean’s teeth gleam white, contrasting with the gray around them. Sam hasn’t been able to brush his teeth for months and feels like something died in his mouth since then. But Dean, his teeth... his breath when they were under the sheets.... Everything about Dean is fresh.
“How come your teeth look like that?”
“How so?” Dean counter asks. “Do they have anything in them?” Then widening his mouth, Dean shows him his teeth. They’re perfect. Two rows of even, shiny teeth are peeking out of his mouth. One thing that has always characterized Dean is that for some reason his teeth look a little tilted inward. It’s rare, but it’s one of the things that made Dean unique.
Seeing them doesn’t make Sam feel more at ease.
✦
“Why don’t we,” Sam starts as he eats the lentils Dean cooked, “go and stay at the market you found?”
Dean glances at him with a warm smile as he swallows his own food. “No can’t do, Hermano,” he replies. “Scavengers… I’m sure they’ll find it soon. And what would us do if we are there when it happens?”
Biting his lips, Sam pauses for a second. He plays with the fabric of his old jeans as his mind follows the image Dean just put in it. “But you’ve been there a lot and no one’s there.”
“I’m not gonna be always that lucky, Sammy.” Dean makes a face and turns his face to the other side. “Can’t risk anything happening to you either.”
“And you? You can risk yourself?”
“It’s different.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Dad.”
That makes Dean look at him again, just to give him a disdained face. “Whatever, Sam.”
✦
“Ouch!”
“Let me see,” Dean says, kneeling in front of him.
Sam tries to clean the wound of his knee with his hands but ends up making it worse.
With care, Dean takes Sam’s hands away and then put alcohol over the red skin. Sam grits his teeth and closes his eyes because of the burning, but he keeps himself still.
In less than a minute Sam’s knee is bandaged, with no trace of the fall he suffered. A clean white bandage covers the wound and holds tightly against his skin.
“Come on,” Dean says with his soft tone that now uses all the time. “Time to stand up, Sammy.”
He takes his sweet moment to do so, he’s not going to admit he’s a little afraid of pain, but… as he—slowly—stands up, he realizes there’s no pain at all. He can’t help but smile and give his brother a hug.
“Just watch where you step on, little brother,” Dean says against his hair as they hug.
“Sorry,” Sam replies with a red face. He knows alcohol and gauze are rare now.
Wait.
“Where did you get the alcohol?” Sam asks, taking a few steps back. The air feels heavier, and his stomach churns.
“What?”
Sam glances at his brother, waiting for an answer. “We were out of alcohol and gauzes, Dean.”
“Oh, that,” Dean replies, in a fake tone that Sam can recognize everywhere. “I found some in the market.”
“Mmm, the market,” Sam replies with a frown. “Why I don’t believe you?”
“I don’t know,” Dean deflects. “Why wouldn’t you? You feeling okay, Sammy?”
Dean is about to touch Sam’s forehead when Sam takes another two steps back.
Sam looks at his brother, trying to find something. The way he’s standing. His clothes. His hands. Everything. The frown in his face.
“You’re lying.”
Sighing, Dean just turns around and starts walking. “You’re delusional.”
Sam doesn’t want to follow him.
✦
There’s something wrong with Dean.
Sam just knows it.
It’s the small things. Dean seems too perfect, too calm, too clean… too much. His smile always lingers a little too long. And his eyes always shine too green. Greener than ever. But it isn’t just that. There’s the way Dean moves—too silent, almost too graceful. His laugh sometimes is just wrong, he can’t explain it. It feels forced.
And then the lies. Little lies, but lies, nonetheless.
“Where did you get the alcohol and gauze, Dean?” Sam asks again one night as they sit by the fire. His voice is soft but laced with suspicion.
Dean turns to him, his smile faltering for just a moment before he forces it back into place. “I told you I found them at the market.”
Sam’s eyes narrow as he tries to keep his tone even. “What market? There’s nothing around us. You’re lying, Dean.”
For a moment, Dean says nothing. The fire crackles, and the silence between them grows heavy. Then, Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s on the other side of the mountains, Sammy.”
“I want to go.”
“It’s too dangerous. It’s better to keep walking.”
“I want to go.” Sam repeats, accentuating each one of the words.
Then, Dean takes Sam’s hand. It surprises Sam, but he doesn’t move it, just lets Dean caresses it. “No, Sammy. It’s too dangerous. That’s final, Sammy.”
Sam closes his eyes, fighting tears as he feels Dean’s fingers play with his. “It’s not fair.”
“Sorry, kiddo.”
“I’m know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Sammy,” Dean replies, taking a serious tone, and then looking straight at him. Eyes, all soft and clear. It reminds Sam of Dean’s age; only seventeen. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not hiding any secret.”
The sigh is too much, and Sam drops his glance to the ground.
He wants to believe Dean.
“Okay, Dean,” Sam lies.
✦
Later that night as Sam lays down next to Dean under the blankets, he can’t help but think.
And think.
Think.
Why are Dean’s teeth so white?
Why do his bruises heal in seconds?
Why does Dean never seem tired?
And most of all, why does Dean’s smile make him feel both safe and terrified?
That makes his heart race.
Dean takes that moment to hug him tighter.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
✦
He can’t eat. The tuna from the cans smells delicious, and his stomach rumbles, but he just can’t bring himself to eat.
Not when he knows.
“What’s bugging you?” Dean asks, food in his mouth. He’s sitting in front of Sam with the grey sky above him.
Sam glances at him, then looks away, trying to stay quiet. There’s a fire inside him that wants to explode, but he’s trying to keep it at bay.
“Eat, Sam,” Dean says, “I’m not gonna repeat it.”
“Or what?!”
His brother only sighs and doesn’t say more.
“Are you gonna tell me when the tuna cans appear?” Sam presses. Sam’s like a dog with a bone, their dad used to say. Maybe it’s true. That’s how Sam is.
“Uh?” Dean asks. He’s frowning. “What are you talking about, now?”
“Don’t play dumb, Dean. There were no tuna cans yesterday. I checked.”
“They were inside my bag, Sam,” Dean says easily with a shrug. “Why?”
“They were not.”
“If you say so,” Dean dismisses the whole thing, turns his face to his can and keeps eating like everything’s fine.
“Just stop with the lies, Dean!” Sam explodes, standing up and trying to make himself bigger. He can’t take it anymore. He wants to know what’s happening. He’s not crazy. At least he thinks he’s not.
“What lies, Sam? Why are you so paranoic out of nowhere?”
“Out of nowhere?” Sam lets out a bitter and short laugh, one hand balling into a fist. “Out of nowhere are the things you bring.”
“God, Sam. You’re impossible sometimes.”
Sam swallows as he sees red. He’s all shaking. Then, he does something he never thought he’d be capable of. With a clenched fist, his knuckles collide against Dean’s cheek.
“Ouch, Sam! What the heck?”
“Holy shit,” Sam breathes heavily, a rush of fresh adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knows his eyes are wide open. Then, he runs. His feet stomp on the gray floor as he closes his eyes, and the air carries away his tears.
Why would Dean lie?
Is he planning something?
Sam needs to run.
Get away from Dean.
Behind him, Dean’s voice calls out. “Where are you going? Wait!”
Sam keeps running, his heart breaking in his chest. He hit his brother. That’s like a sin for Sam. He did the unthinkable. Then, without warning, Sam hits the ground. His body slides across the ground as Dean flips him onto his back. His brother climbs on top of him and holds both of Sam’s arms.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“You.” Sam shouts, his eyes watery and his nose running. “You’re wrong,” he shouts, kicking his legs and struggling to free his arms from Dean’s grasp. “What are you? You’re not Dean.”
“The heck? I’m Dean.” Dean says with a wild tone. Too wild.
Too much.
It’s too much.
Everything is too much.
“No, you’re not,” Sam shouts again, he sounds like a kid but doesn’t care. He wants his dad. “Let me go!”
“Sam, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Let me go,” he repeats, his voice cracking and eyes all wet. Dirt getting into his mouth and eyes from all the movement.
“Sammy,” Dean says, his voice sounding wrong. “Don’t do this. Calm down. Let me explain, okay?”
“I want Dean! I want Dad!” He cries, aches for them, even when Dean is right there with him.
“I know, Sammy.” Dean says softly while keeping him in place. “I know.”
✦
They wait like that until Sam calms down.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Dean asks, still on top of Sam.
Sam nods. He’s not sure he can speak.
Taking a deep breath, Dean stands and holds out a hand to Sam. When they’re both on their feet, Dean says, “Let’s go back to the camp. I’ll tell you everything. Just… I don’t know. Let’s go back.”
They walk in silence toward their little camp. Sam looks at Dean and feels a tight knot in his stomach. There’s something wrong with him.
What’s happening?
“Take a seat,” Dean tells after lowering himself to the ground.
Sam sits on the log Dean set up for him earlier, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans.
He waits.
“I don’t know how to start…” Dean looks at the dirt. “You remember that day? The one with all the earthquakes?”
There had been a lot of those days. Sam takes a second to remember if there’s one that’s special. But they were all the same; in all of them he was with Dean or alone trying not to fall into the cracks. “No.”
Dean hums softly but keeps his eyes down. “When I… the day I caught the rabbit.”
Oh. That day.
Biting his lips, Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, looking at Dean. Sam gulps, as he tries to keep his heart in check. He’s got a bad feeling about all this.
“There was a lot of earthquakes that day.”
“Yeah, you already said so.”
“Sammy,” Dean says. He looks straight a Sam, eyes a little wet and a semblance that Sam had never seen in Dean. “It’s not too late, you know? We could pretend everything’s fine.”
That’s not who Sam is, and Dean should know that. “Tell me.” Sam gulps again as he waits. His breathing is a bit labored, but he stays his ground. He needs the truth.
“That day…” Dean starts, voice trembling. “I was—Dean was on the other side of the mountain.”
Sam blinks.
Dean?
What?
Why is Dean talking in third person?
“He heard something. Thought it was an animal and tried to hunt it down. Let his guard down.”
Sam can hear his own breathing. Everything is muted around him. Still.
“The earthquake took him by surprise.”
Sam feels the air leaves his lungs and his legs go numb.
“It was a big… It was the biggest crack he had ever seen. He didn’t stand a chance, Sammy.”
His heartbeat thunders in his ears.
Sam isn’t sure what to think.
Nothing makes sense.
“What—” he gasps, “What are you saying?” His voice sounds foreign to himself, as his breathing becomes even more agitated. “What does that mean?”
“It means that Dean fell.”
Sam doesn’t know how much time has passed.
His head feels heavy, and his body feels alien.
“But you’re here, Dean,” someone says, Sam doesn’t know who.
“I’m not... he’s not,” Dean says, barely above a whisper. “I’m not him, Sammy.”
The words hit Sam like a punch to the gut, making him out of his trance. “What are you talking about? Of course, you’re Dean! You’re my brother!” He shouts, trying to reach for his brother, but Dean moves away from him.
Sam just wants to touch his brother.
“No, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice cracking. “The real Dean… he died. Two weeks ago. The earthquake… it was too much.”
Sam’s mind loops. He shakes his head, refusing to believe what he’s hearing. “No! No, that’s not true! Dean wouldn’t leave me! You’re lying! You’re lying!” He can barely see through the tears. His chest goes hollow. His body is something that does not belong to Sam, it is something that feels very distant from him. He hears the sobs of a child in the distance. He wishes that child would shut up because Sam has just lost his brother.
And Sam can’t deal with that.
He can’t.
It’s a joke.
Isn’t it?
He half smiles as he looks at Dean. “It’s a joke.”
“I’m not lying,” Dean says, sorrow heavy in his tone. “I’m… I’m something else. Something that’s been following you and Dean around. To keep you safe. The real Dean… he wanted me to protect you. To make sure you’re okay. It was his last wish.”
Sam’s eyes go wide with dawning horror.
Dean can’t be…
He can’t.
Dean—this thing—leans in. “I’ve been with you because he loved you more than anything.”
Sam’s breath hitches as tears stream down his face. He feels like he’s losing his grip on reality. “No,” he whispers, shaking his head. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. Dean wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t do that!”
No.
No.
No.
“Sammy, I’m sorry,” Dean says, his voice is raw. “You didn’t have to know.”
Sam’s world crumbles. He feels like he’s drowning, like the ground beneath him has disappeared. Sam’s legs give out, and he collapses to the ground, his body wracked with sobs.
The world around him fades away.
✦
Hours pass, or maybe days—Sam doesn’t know. Time feels meaningless now. But one thing is clear: Sam needs to see the place where Dean died. He needs to say goodbye.
“Take me there,” Sam says, his voice flat and detached. He’s stopped feeling anything except a hollow ache in his chest.
Not-Dean hesitates, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and reluctance. “Sammy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Take me there,” Sam repeats, his tone firm despite the cracks in his voice. “And don’t call me Sammy.”
Not-Dean sighs but nods. “Okay, Sammy—Sam.”
They walk in silence, the only sound being the crunch of gravel and ash beneath their feet. Sam doesn’t look at Not-Dean—can’t look at him. He doesn’t know what to feel anymore. Anger, grief, betrayal—they all swirl together in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
A week later, they finally reach the edge of the fissure, Sam stops. The ground splits open, a jagged, gaping wound in the earth. He stares into the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest.
“This is where he died,” Not-Dean says softly, standing behind him.
Sam doesn’t respond. He just keeps staring into the fissure, his mind racing. He can’t imagine his brother laying down there.
Alone.
Scared.
Dead.
“His last wish…” Not-Dean starts, but Sam looks at him with a death glace that make him shut up.
Sam just wants to be alone.
That’s not true.
He wants to be with Dean.
Wants Dean to be with him.
When his legs get tired, Sam squats down. He can’t take his eyes off the void under him.
“How deep is it?” Sam asks to Not-Dean.
“Very.” He replies as he cooks. “You should eat.”
“Not hungry.”
He stays there. Unmoving. He feels the air in his skin. It’s a fresh blast of air and his heart breaks when he realizes that Dean will never feel fresh air on his face again. He starts shaking. Hands balled into fists as he watches Dean’s grave.
He never buried Dad.
Now he can’t bury Dean.
✦
Later, Sam eats because his body demands it, not his heart.
Not-Dean is sitting in front of him, but Sam doesn’t want to look at him. It hurts too much. So, he keeps his head down, focusing on the chicken he’s eating. He’s not really hungry, but his body is asking for nutriments.
“He loved you so much,” Not-Dean breaks the silence.
Sam stops eating for half a second but chooses to ignore the comment.
“When he was falling,” Not-Dean continues, not taking the cue, or not caring, “the only thing in is mind was you.”
That makes Sam stop. He thinks back to those days. The way Dean acted. How he was always leaving Sam behind.
“He hated me.”
Not-Dean cocks his head. “That’s not true. He never hated you.”
“He was always mad at me,” he says, looking to nowhere. “I was a dead weight.”
“He never thought so.”
Huffing a laugh, Sam just shakes his head. “You don’t know him.”
“I could hear his thoughts,” Not-Dean says, his gaze fixed on Sam. “His last thought... it was you. All he wanted was to keep you safe. I don’t know how it happened but—” he stops and looks to the sky, “—before dying he wished with all his being for you to be safe. And the next thing I know is that I look like him.”
“I don’t know why, really,” Not-Dean continues. “All his clothes, his belongings. Everything. And I knew what to do.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what he wanted… and because… I don’t know, there’s something about you. Since I felt your presence, I felt attracted to you. To your essence. I feel that in another life you might’ve saved this world, Sam. You and Dean. But here… you never stand a chance.”
Letting out a quiet laugh of disbelief, Sam shakes his head.
“It’s the true. That’s what I felt.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“That’s also true.”
After a long, heavy silence, Sam turns to Not-Dean. A doubt gnawing at Sam’s mind. “You said you have Dean’s belongings. That means… the amulet, is the real one?”
At that, Not-Dean reaches inside his shirt and takes out the amulet. It looks like the real one. Sam can’t help but get close to it to look at it. “Why do you have it?”
“I don’t know.”
Taking it with his hands, Sam feels the warmth of it.
Somehow it feels like Dean.
Like home.
Home.
“I want it,” Sam says without taking his gaze off it. “It’s the real one.”
He doesn’t know how he knows that.
He just knows it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sam,” Not-Dean tells him. “I feel connected to it, too.”
“It was Dean’s. I gave it to him,” Sam repeats, this time with a sharper voice.
“Sam.” The tone of Not-Dean makes Sam look at him. There is uncertainty in them, maybe fear. “I—I think I could disappear if I take it off.”
“Why?”
“I just feel it,” Not-Dean explains. “It was glowing after I became him.”
Not-Dean’s words make Sam’s chest tighten and stomach plummet. “You’re not Dean,” Sam says. “You’re an impostor.”
“But—”
Not-Dean begins, but Sam cuts in. “Please.”
With a soft expression, Not-Dean nods slowly. “Okay, Sam. If that’s what you want,” he says. “But, before. Promise me that you’re going to live. For me. For Dean.”
Sam takes a deep breath and nods as he waits.
He just wants a piece of Dean.
He needs it.
Slowly, Not-Dean takes off the amulet and puts it over Sam’s hand. Sam closes his eyes and clenches his fist to feel the metal and horns of the necklace.
To feel Dean in his hand.
He doesn’t open his eyes until he realizes that his tears are falling on his hand.
In front of him, all he sees are tiny specks of ash being carried by the wind. He takes a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. He looks down at the spot where Not-Dean stood.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Now that Sam’s truly alone, he knows what to do.
✦
Sam stands close to the edge of the fissure, the ground crumbling beneath his feet. He looks down into the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest and the amulet clutches tightly in his hand. The air is thick with the smell of ash as he waits.
He doesn’t feel afraid—just… tired. Tired of running, tired of hurting, tired of losing.
He thinks about Dean, about the promises they made to each other when they were little kids. He thinks about the amulet, about the entity that tried to protect him. And he thinks about the truth—Dean is gone, and he’s never coming back. Just like Mom and Dad.
With a deep breath, Sam steps forward. His feet kissing the cliff’s edge.
“Dean,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”
There’s no tears in his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face.
He, soon, will see Dean.
Sam closes his eyes and takes a step forward. The ground gives way beneath him, and he falls into the void.
As he plummets, Sam feels a strange sense of peace.
He’s not running anymore.
He’s not hurting anymore. He’s just… free.
The wind hits his whole body, and it sounds like something is crying, but it doesn’t matter. He puts the amulet against his chest and closes his eyes, feeling the warmth of Dean in it.
In his mind, he sees Dean teaching him to drive.
Dad’s hand ruffling his hair.
Dean’s laughter at a county fair.
The grumpy face his dad carried when he didn’t drink coffee.
A day at a lake with Dean.
Running with Dad by his side.
A world without cracks.
His own smile.
He’ll be with his father, soon.
He will be with Dean.
That’s his only wish.
That’s all he ever wanted.
And now, maybe—just maybe—he will have it.