secretlytodream (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
secretlytodream) wrote2009-11-25 08:34 pm
secretlytodream) wrote2009-11-25 08:34 pm
Fic: The Point Of No Return (Sam/Dean, NC-17, ~6300 words)
This is for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eva_lain ♥ ♥ ♥
Huge thanks tosulfuricfusion for the beta and making this story lisable :P ♥
Comments are always ♥
The Point Of No Return
(Sam/Dean, NC-17, ~6300 words, au, spoilers for 5x04)
The point of no return is the point beyond which someone, or some group of people, must continue on their current course of action, either because turning back is physically impossible, or because to do so would be prohibitively expensive or dangerous. It is also used when the distance or effort required to get back would be greater than the remainder of the journey or task as yet undertaken
When Dean comes back for Sam at Stanford, he tells him that their dad is missing, that he needs Sam’s help to find him, and even though he can do it himself, he doesn’t want to.
Sam still remembers his brother’s face, its features and lines, those tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that sometimes reminded him of the sun; every little thing about it, even after all those years. He still feels his heart missing a beat when he sees the shadows creasing his brother’s face.
Now though, Sam distantly thinks that something is wrong with the way Dean looks at him, the way he lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. In the end he doesn’t think twice about it. Deep down inside Sam always knew that this was never his life – a nice pretty girlfriend, school, then a normal job, a wife, the white picket fence life. Because really, all he’s ever needed was an excuse to drop everything and hit the road. And he gets it.
That night Dean tells him their dad is missing, he never mentions to Sam his dreams.
**
It’s an ordinary case – well, at least as ordinary as it can be – when he wakes up, screaming and struggling to breathe, for the first time with his brother in the bed next to his.
He can’t see the darkness of the room. He’s still looking at the red flames that burn his skin, and the pain is so strong he can’t even breathe, can’t even scream because of the pain.
It’s only after a few minutes that he feels strong hands on his shoulders, a soft voice in his ear, and he understands that Sam’s here, his Sam, and they’re in a nameless dark motel room alone, and there are no screams of pain or evil laughter, or blood on his face or sharp blade in his stomach.
He buries his face in Sam’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent and trying to calm his racing heart.
Sam doesn’t remember his brother crying, ever. He wishes he won’t after this either.
That night Sam witnesses it for the first time.
**
When they hunt Bloody Mary, Sam finds out that it haunts only those who have secrets. He doesn’t tell Dean about it right away, because he knows, just knows, what will happen next.
It doesn’t take a psychic to see the future; it just takes a brother who knows the other better than anyone else. And he doesn’t say anything when Dean tells him, "I haven’t told you everything, Sammy. She’ll come for me."
**
He tells Sam about his dreams when they take this case in their old house in Lawrence and he has no other choice.
"I have these nightmares," he says after he shows Sam the awkwardly drawn tree and tells him where they need to go next.
"I’ve noticed," Sam answers, and Dean tries not to bite his lip, not to show the worry.
"And sometimes they come true," Dean says quietly, turning from his brother, just to not see the look on his face that says 'freak' without the words he wouldn’t say.
**
They go to their old house, but he never tells Sam that the night before he went for him at Stanford, Dean dreamt about him, pinned to the ceiling and burning up in the fire.
When they find out that the ghost in their old house is their mother, Sam’s stuck against the wall and trying not to let the tears fall, and Dean starts to wonder if his mom has all the answers.
"I’m sorry, Sam," she says softly, frowning, and Sam can forgive her, because right now, after all is said and done, it doesn’t matter anymore.
"And Dean," she takes a step backwards, turning to her older son, and her frown deepens. "What did you do?" she asks quietly, as if she doesn’t want Sam to hear.
That night, or maybe morning, when they drive away from the house as fast as they can, Dean, for the first time since everything started, feels the immense wish to tell someone.
Sam doesn’t say anything, he just stares out of the window like he has something on his mind, and Dean tries to tell himself that he imagined the smirk he saw on his brothers face, that this is his imagination playing tricks with him, and all he needs is just good, more-than-three-hours, sleep.
**
"Today?"
"No."
He wakes up with a loud scream, still feeling the flames on his skin, the taste of blood in his mouth and screams of all those souls he left back there. Back in his dream. Not the future or a past he could somehow forget. He tries to convince himself to believe this lie, feeling Sam’s hands on his back and nape, focusing on the soft circular stroking and quiet mumbling in his ear and the awful noise from thousands of voices starts to fade out in the dark.
After a few hours, he receives a message from their father with the coordinates. It’s the old asylum building. Dean, for the first time since it all started, wonders if he made the right choice, if there’s still a way out of this.
He vaguely remembers Sam’s face when he pointed the gun at him, telling Sam something he doesn’t remember after all, but he knows deep in his gut that he should regret it.
"Do it," Sam says, closing his eyes, "if you hate me that much, just pull the trigger."
And then Dean remembers why he did all of this and why it all started in the first place. It’s that one second that saves him from something so scary and awful and he just knows he wouldn’t be able to live with it.
When he comes to his senses, Sam’s there, smiling softly and studying his brother’s face.
Later Dean tells him that he didn’t mean any of it – and from all that happened, it’s the only truth he’s got, because Dean doesn’t have anything else to hold on to.
**
They cross different states, one after another, and Sam knows – feels – that there’s almost no hope of finding their dad. Dean knows it, too, he’s seen it too many times now, and though he would never say this to his brother, he just wants to spend time with Sam. Just a little more time before everything will go nowhere.
So that’s why in the hospital in Nebraska he doesn’t tell Sam that how dangerous their job is. He doesn’t tell him he’s going to die and there’s nothing Sam can do to stop it.
Instead, he smiles softly, turns off the daytime TV, and looks at Sam’s face, at the tears threatening to fall from his bloodshot eyes. He just says, "Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot," and tries to grin.
He doesn’t add ‘it’s not my time yet,’ even though it falls hard behind his lips.
**
The first time he dreams about the murder he’s waiting for another bloody nightmare full of screaming, pain, and fire. What he gets instead is a calm night and the man with his head cut out of his body and he doesn’t know what’s worse – to feel his own pain and its ghosts when he’s awake, or constantly thinking about someone he could save, that he really could save, but was a little too late.
Sam’s there, just like he always is, holding his brother and waiting until his breathing calms down.
"Dean, what happened?" Sam asks quietly, trying to look in his brother’s eyes and Dean knows what Sam’s really asking: What happened while I was gone, Dean? What happened to you?
Dean knows better than to tell him everything right away, though the temptation is so big he has to bite his lip until he feels the salty bite of blood in his mouth, if only not to start talking.
Later they find that Dean’s nightmares come to him not only in his sleep, but also when he’s awake, and Dean’s thankful that it’s not his usual nightmares.
Sam holds him so close that they’re sharing the same air, as if Sam’s trying to breathe away all the pain Dean’s feeling. He’s not sure why Sam does it, because since he came back they never talked about them – there were too many other problems and Dean didn’t want to try anything, because he knows that in the end it’ll still only be pain.
"Dean," Sam says quietly, and the older Winchester feels goose bumps all over his body, because Sam is here, so near he can brush his lips with his, feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth, the taste almost forgotten. “What did you do?” he whispers, trying to look into Dean’s eyes, as if he’s trying to look into his soul for answers. He doesn’t turn his gaze away – he’s never really been able to turn away from his little brother – and he almost opens his mouth to say those words, to say he’s sorry, that he didn’t have any other choice, but instead he presses his lips to Sam’s, hard and unexpectedly, and Sam doesn’t move away.
**
When they finally find their dad, beaten up and bleeding, Dean almost chokes the cry of relief, because he has less and less power to keep going.
"Boys," John says, embracing Dean, and for the first time since he came for Sam at Stanford he can breathe in and out, release the breath he didn’t know he was holding. There’s a glimpse of hope in his heart, because he always believed in his father, and with this belief comes the hope for a different future, the one he hasn’t already seen.
**
When they meet this girl Sarah, Dean vaguely remembers that this is exactly what he thought when it all started. He wished for Sam a better life, a life he could never have had, and when he sees how Sam looks at this girl, he feels a hint of something in his chest that he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to believe it’s jealousy because that would mean he’d just taken one step forward toward what he’s seen so many times at night.
Dean watches Sam as he crosses the space to the door in a few big steps, and he feels a sting when Sam kisses the girl. He almost wants to scream – not because Sam does it, but because he feels so… and with this feeling comes a thought that everything was in vain.
Sam comes back to his brother, watching him, narrowing his eyes, and for a moment Dean fears that right now he’ll hear those words – “I’ll leave you here” – and he doesn’t understand why now, why in this very moment, because it shouldn’t happen for a long time yet.
Sam smiles shyly at him, getting in the car and closing the door. Dean doesn’t get it right away, but his exhale is shuddering, and he needs to take a few moments to keep his hands from trembling.
**
"You will bring the light, Sammy," Dean says one night, eyes full of tears and darkness, and Sam can’t do anything but hold him as he’s done so many nights before.
It’s the first thing Dean says after the voices have quieted in his head and he can hear his own heart beating, loud and fast. He still feels a phantom pain of blades in his flesh but he tries to focus on the eyes right before his face.
"You will bring the light", he repeats, not able to tear his eyes away from his brother’s and Sam thinks, stupidly, that it’s a good thing.
He smiles softly, unsurely, because Dean is still shaking and he moves his hands up and down Dean’s back, trying to soothe the fear.
"I’ll do whatever you want me to, Dean," he says low and steady and Dean feels the shudder becoming stronger, but now it’s not the fear, it’s something else. He kisses Sam hard, practically crashing their mouths together, because he doesn’t want to, he can’t think about anything else right now, especially not about the choice he had to make once, and he knows he will have to make again.
Sam is breathing fast and loud, helping Dean pull his t-shirt off, and he can barely keep his hands off his brother. Dean pushes himself on Sam’s lap, trying to be even closer, as if it’s even possible right now, and he whimpers, feeling his hard-on brushing against Sam’s thigh. They kiss and touch, and Dean’s head is spinning because he hasn’t feel anything like this for such a long time, and sometimes, mostly after his dreams, he thinks that he’ll never feel again.
"Dean," Sam whispers, voice breaking at the edges, and Dean feels the heat building inside him just from the sound of this voice; different from the last time he heard it this way but so close to his heart and memory. He feels Sam’s hands on him, exactly on the right places, as if there weren’t all those years between them, then Sam’s fingers are under the waistband of Dean’s pants, and he’s sliding his hand in Dean’s boxers, and this, right here, is something Dean would swear is a dream if it wasn’t so real.
It doesn’t take long for him and Dean comes, almost screaming Sam’s name, struggling to breathe and keep his voice from breaking. Sam holds him, kissing the corner of his mouth, and maybe he even says something, but Dean can’t hear it because in his head there’s only voices, screams, telling him how wrong he is and how painful it’ll be for him in the end.
Dean shuts them off, returning to the reality, for once desiring it more than anything else, and he lays his head in the crook of Sam’s neck, lightly kissing the warm skin there, feeling Sam’s breathing, and closes his eyes.
That night he doesn’t dream of anything.
**
Sometimes he wonders what it’s like to wake up to the scream of terror and not be able to fall asleep long after that.
He wonders what’s happened to his brother that triggered something like this.
Sam doesn’t sleep well during the night, not after the first time he woke up to his brother’s terrified screams, not after he spent a good few hours to calm him down and another few to soothe him back to sleep. Yeah, not after that.
He sits on his bed, watching Dean’s chest quietly rise and fall, his lips trembling slightly, and Sam knows that another nightmare’s trying to creep into his dream. So he stands and just lies on Dean’s bed, kissing him on the temple and whispering softly in his ear, like he’s warning the evil not to disturb his brother’s sleep. He draws himself closer to Dean, pulling his hands around him, nuzzling the back of Dean’s neck.
**
When he almost dies, he’s sure that something’s going to change. He thinks maybe he’ll go to Hell, but when he opens his eyes and sees his body lying still on the hospital bed… for the first time in this whole mess, Dean freaks out.
He’s not here to make everything like he wanted, and he’s not there to make up his choice again – he’s in between, and everything he was fighting for is in between, too, and Dean wants to scream.
He doesn’t, even though he knows that no one will hear him. He just doesn’t have any energy left. When he sees Sam’s red eyes and the salty traces on his cheeks, he wants to raise his hand, try to reach up, but he knows that he can’t. So he doesn’t even try, because seeing it with his own eyes would make it the truth. He doesn’t need the truth. He was okay with the lie for a pretty long time.
"This isn’t gonna work… nothing will," he whispers, when Sam tries to speak with him, sitting on a cold floor of a hospital room, and Dean feels the hot tears streaming down his face when Sam laughs, watching the pointer of the ouija board move.
"It’s good to hear from you, man! It hasn’t been the same without you, Dean-" Sam says, barely containing himself from jumping on his feet.
Watching the board, Dean wonders if it would be the same if he wasn’t there at all.
**
He was sure he wouldn’t have any visions or nightmares after he woke up in that hospital.
He hoped so, God, he just hoped.
But now, when he tries to start breathing again, he just knows that there’s no end to any of this. Even if he closes his eyes and pretends he’s not here, the pain is still there, and the heat is still there, and the worst of it - he doesn’t know where it comes from.
"Dean?" He doesn’t hear the door open or Sam fall to his knees on the floor right beside Dean. He doesn’t register any of it, like his feelings and senses are already start to die.
"What’d you see?" Sam tries again, and Dean sees the worry in his brother’s eyes, the fear and anger and love so big he can’t hold back a choke. He dreamt of his brother, his Sammy, pointing a gun to an innocent man, and that’s when Dean’s hope and faith are crashing down so fast and hard that he feels the physical pain bearing down in his chest.
"There’s no way out," Dean whispers, as if he’s afraid to hear it out loud. "No matter how hard I try, there’s just no other choice, there’s no way out-" he tries to keep his voice steady, but he fails so hard at it, he scares himself.
"There’s always a choice," Sam answers, cupping Dean’s face in his big warm hands. This is so familiar Dean almost loses himself in it. "I’ll make sure you make the right one," Sam whispers, before he reaches for Dean’s lips and softly kisses him, holding him here, in reality.
In the end, this is exactly what frightens Dean the most. Sam will make sure. He always does.
**
It’s Sam who needs to make a choice now, and Dean’s not sure if his own faith is stronger, because seeing the tears on his brother’s face is a torture more painful than everything he’s been dreaming about. He can't imagine himself in Sam's place. He knows he was there, but he can't remember the feeling of doing it for the first time. Sacrifice someone to save this person...
"I’ll do it," Dean says, still holding the gun, feeling the warmth of Sam’s palm with the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t want to do it, God he’s done it so many times, but when it comes to his little brother, Dean’s ready to take a sin, just so his baby brother won’t suffer.
"No." Dean is surprised, a little because he doesn’t expect Sam to say this, but somewhere back in his mind he knew this would happen. Sam’s voice is steady and confident, and he takes Dean’s gun, gripping it, and takes a deep breath.
Dean watches Sam and he thinks that he started falling long before this day, long before dad’s death and the nightmares. He was no good to any of his fathers, and he’s still trying, even knowing it.
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he shudders when he hears the gunshot. It’s ringing in his ears long before there’s nothing but silence, and when Dean sees Sam’s face, he knows it’s a lost battle, because you can’t make everything right even if you can turn it over.
Sam watches him, his eyes dark, and Dean wants to scream, like he’s wanted so many times before. He feels like there’s nothing but unreleased screams in his body, and for a few minutes he can’t even move. He knows they need to do something with the body. He knows he needs to do something with Sam, with himself, and with everything that’s happened.
He knows they need to forget, though they’ll never be able to.
That night they fuck so hard that Dean is finally screaming, releasing the pain and fear, the love and anger, all his regrets and doubts, and when Sam screams, too, crying out Dean’s name and releasing himself in Dean’s body, he knows there’s no other choice but the one he’s already made. It all comes down to this very point in time that’s called the point of no return, or maybe it’s just fate. Dean knows he has to fight until he sees it all, only to come back to the start, with the understanding that nothing matters.
When he hears Sam’s squeezed cries, and when he feels the wetness of tears on his neck, Dean knows that even after he’s lost everything including himself, one thing still matters to him.
**
When djinn puts him in the alternate reality, Dean’s lost completely, because he can’t say what the truth was before, where it was after and where it is now.
He meets Sam and his girlfriend, who he vaguely remembers from Stanford, and after dinner they talk about the hunt and Sam says the only thing Dean really wants to hear.
"I’ve never been hunting in my life," Sam says, looking at Dean like he’s drunk. He goes back to his room, to sleep in his bed with his girlfriend, and Dean thinks maybe he should let it go from the start, maybe he should never have come back to Stanford, because after all, it’s him who dragged Sam along, it’s him who drove them right into the hands of death. It’s him who was driving all that time.
Later that night he’s watching TV and catches some late night news program when it all hits him. It’s the anniversary of the crash of the United Britannia Flight 424 and Dean cries when he understands that he’s willing to give it all, just to save his brother. He’s willing to let all those people die if his Sammy will never know the life outside of this perfectly shaped world with their mother alive, and everything Sammy was dreaming about.
Dean can’t fall asleep that night, and when he does, when he’s completely exhausted, he still sees nightmares. He thought that if he was in an alternate universe that the dreams should be different, too. But they’re not. So he wakes up in a cold sweat, trembling like a leaf, and he chokes, trying not to cry too loud because there’s no one here to protect him, there’s no Sam for him in this world and Dean knows that’s the price he has to pay. He has to know that Sam’s in the room next to his and that he won’t come.
Dean doesn’t know why exactly he does what he does. He’s not sure why he sliced the silver knife into his own flesh – whether he wanted to be back to Sam because he needs him, or because he couldn’t make it without him.
When he sees Sam’s terrified eyes, when he’s back to reality, and his little brother pulls the needle from his neck, Dean decides for himself why he did it. Not that he would ever tell Sam that. More small lies for the better. And Dean knows that he will have to give a lot more lies than he already has.
**
Sam reassured Dean that he did the right thing. He told Dean that he’s glad he’s back to Sam, because Sam couldn’t go on without his older brother.
Dean doesn’t believe in it right away, not completely, because he knows. He doesn’t tell this to Sam either, what he tells him is a simple, "I’ll always be here, Sammy."
When they stop for food at some local diner, Dean doesn’t understand what’s happening. Maybe because he doesn’t pay much attention, or maybe because his senses are already dead.
Next thing he remembers is that he’s dreaming again, and he could swear that he heard Sam’s frightened voice, more like a scream, and he opens his eyes sharply, sitting on the cold ground, in the middle of nowhere, between the empty old houses with broken windows and the grey sky above his head, and he just knows.
He’s seen it, after all.
When he has to fight Jake, the anxiousness to finally see Sam is the only thing that keeps him going. He’s tired and his body’s aching, but he stands, nursing his right arm, and the pain is now more like a dull thumping.
"Dean!" He turns around and sees, finally, Sam and Bobby, and he sees Sam’s face change from relieved to frightened in less than a moment and then there’s only pain, sharp and hot, slicing his back.
By now he’s kind of used to it; his dreams are always so vivid that he’s checking his body for almost an hour after each experience, because the pain is always too much to bear.
**
"You stupid son of a bitch, couldn’t wait any longer to make your dreams come true, huh?"
He opens his eyes to find himself, finally pitched to the crucifix with his feet bare and t-shirt soaked in blood. So that’s where it all came from.
"You have a talent to ruin everything, I have to give you that," the voice says, and Dean can only smirk at this.
"You tried so hard, Dean, didn’t you?" He hears the hoarse voice somewhere from the left and he doesn’t need to turn his head to see who stands there. He’s seen it, after all.
"Go to hell," Dean moans tiredly, closing his eyes again, and he feels like someone’s standing right in front of him.
"We’re already there, hunter, your whishes are finally coming true."
After that he only feels pain, pain so much stronger and worse than in his nightmares, and he can’t even lose consciousness.
**
He tries to convince himself that he’s dead for good and at the same time that it’s just a dream, one of those nightmares he’s gotten used to, because he can’t bear the thought that he’s actually in Hell.
He feels something solid under his back and he realizes that he’s actually lying down and not tied up to something in the air. And then he feels hands, and Dean’s first thought is to scream, to try to free himself, try to run. He doesn’t even understand that he’s already doing it when he hears a familiar voice.
"Dean!" Sam screams, trying to steady his brother, because Dean still won’t open his eyes. "Dean! Wake up, it’s me! Dean!" Sam begs, already crying, holding on to his brother so tight, like there’s nothing else in the whole world.
"You’re not him," Dean says, voice shaking, cracking, and he’s afraid to open his eyes, because he can’t see another demon with the soft voice of his brother. "Don’t you-" he tries to shake those hands off, but he’s not that strong, not anymore.
"Dean, I’m begging you, open your eyes, please, it’s me-"
And then there’re those warm hands on his cheeks, and light kisses all over his face, and Dean can’t help it anymore, there’s no more flames and pain, no blades and blood, it’s so familiar and he just gives up and slowly opens his eyes.
It’s so bright that he immediately closes them again, because he feels his eyes on fire, so used to the darkness of the place he’s been to so long.
"Dean-" Sam says quietly, almost whispers, and Dean tries again, slowly opens his eyes, and this time he sees him; his brother, his Sam, not some demon with black eyes and bloody face and teeth so sharp they’re like blades.
"Sam," Dean chokes, barely lifting his hand, because there’s no power left in his body, it’s like he doesn’t even have his body anymore.
He turns his head only to see that they’re in the open field with grass so green it’s not even real, and Dean wonders if this really is the reality.
"You’re back, God-" Sam pulls him in a hug, lifting from hard ground and Dean feels like Sam’s hands are closing around his body so tightly he can’t even breathe for a few seconds.
This is when the thought occurs to him, because no one can just walk out of Hell, especially not the one it was written for from the very beginning.
"Sammy," Dean cups Sam’s cheek with the weak and cut hand, and Sam takes his hand in his own, because he just can’t not. "What did you do?" Dean whispers. He tried so hard, so long, and still, he couldn’t do anything.
"What did I do? What did you do?" Sam asks, frowning, and he can’t keep the tears any longer; now they’re streaming down his cheeks, and Dean doesn’t know what to do, what to say, what to even think.
"What?"
"When you were alone, when… I was away, in Stanford, what did you do?" Sam repeats, more steadily this time, because it’s always easier to be angry, something Dean knows better than anyone else.
His frown is so deep, it almost makes Dean smile. Sam always reminded him of a little boy when he pouted or was angry with something, and now Dean doesn’t feel like arguing. For the first time he feels like he’s ready to tell him the truth.
"I tried. Sammy, I swear to God I tried, as hard as I could, and still-" Dean sucks in a breath, because there’s something in the side of his body that he feels only now.
"Easy, you’re just a human, don’t forget that," Sam says, helping Dean to sit up and putting his shirt over the wound to stop the bleeding. He holds him tightly and Dean rests his head on Sam’s chest, feeling so safe he almost forgets how everything is.
"You too, Sammy," Dean whispers and Sam’s not sure if he hears it right.
**
Dean doesn’t remember the last year, anything that happened between the sharp pain in his back up until the even stronger pain in his whole body. It’s all like a blur and he’s not sure if he ever wants to remember what was in between.
He remembers the place, where Sam helps him to his feet and they’re walking to the Impala. The trees around are lying flat on the ground, like there was some kind of a blast. He doesn’t say anything; he’s not ready to hear the truth, even though in the back of his mind he already knows.
**
Even after he’s been to hell and back, literally, he still expects the nightmares to go away,
They don’t.
"Today?"
"No."
He knows the dream, the nightmare, he’s seen it too many times, and he knows that after a series of "no" there will be one "yes." There will only be one, and it will be enough.
He feels like the last blood in his body is drifting away, leaving nothing but numbness, and now Dean doesn’t feel anything, no pain or heat, he just watches those black eyes looking straight into his soul, and as tired as he is, as lost as his is, he gives in.
"Today?" the voice repeats, the corners of the awfully shaped and sliced mouth already curved in a smirk.
"Yes."
He cries with bloody tears when he picks up the blade, he cries when he cuts his first wound, he cries when he damages his first soul.
Dean sits up sharply, waving his right hand as if he’s trying to hit something, and he cries when Sam’s there, gripping him tight, trying to soothe him, pressing Dean’s face to his chest in an attempt to show him that he’s here, that Dean’s back and he’s safe. Sam’s sliding his hand in Dean’s damp hair, wet from the cold sweat, and he’s rubbing his nape, mumbling something, swaying a little.
"So many, Sam, there were so many," Dean chokes, gripping Sam’s t-shirt tightly, "and I couldn’t even-" he wanted to say ‘choose’ but it would be a lie, because he had a choice, after all, and he made it, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Dean, it’s ok, you don’t have to explain," Sam says softly, not sure if he actually wants to hear this explanation. "For me it doesn’t matter. You have to know that."
"It should matter, Sam," Dean whispers, lifting his eyes to meet Sam’s. He still hopes he can do something, though everything that already happened proves him wrong. "It’s the only thing that-" Dean stops, realizing what he’s about to say. Sam looks in his eyes, as if he’s trying to guess. "It’s the only thing that makes us different from them," Dean finishes. He’s practically sitting on Sam’s lap now, not caring about anything, trying to find the light in Sam’s eyes, a little spark that will save his own hope.
Sam’s kissing him hard, then softer, biting his lip, and making a way to Dean’s mouth with his tongue. Dean moans, raising himself a little, trying to sit even closer.
It’s the last thing he remembers about his brother. The last thing he wants to remember.
**
He was told that no matter what, it will all end up there, and he remembered those words through everything, no matter what.
And now, pinned beneath the boot of his own foot from five years into the future, he doesn’t think ever he had a chance to start with. He sees himself smirk, and the pressure on his neck becomes stronger.
"Stop!" He hears screaming, drifting from his dreams to reality and back again. "Stop-" the voice repeats, and Dean barely turns his head, seeing his brother a few feet away with a terrified look on his face, and Dean knows that it’ll end here, where the loop of events started.
"Don’t you get it?" Dean asks, standing there, head held high, with his foot on the neck of himself. "You never did, never will. Blind hope, stupid love, even more stupid sacrifice." The face, not-Dean, grins, but he doesn’t put away his foot.
"I’ll do it," Sam says, making a little step forward. Dean knows Sam figured it all out a long time ago, because he’s smarter than anyone else Dean knew or ever will. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to explain it all himself.
He looks at Sam with his eyes filling up with tears and absentmindedly imagines what it’ll feel like when someone breaks his neck. Not that it’ll be too long until he finds out.
"I’ll do anything you want me to, just-"
"Let him go? Sammy, didn’t you figure out already that it won’t matter anymore once you say ‘yes’?"
"It will matter," Sam says stubbornly, "it’s the only thing that makes us different from you," he spits out, gritting his teeth harshly. Lucifer grins, like this is entertaining for him somehow, and he breathes in deeply.
Sam looks at Dean, with a look that only his brother will recognize. It’s ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘don’t worry, it’s my turn to look for my brother for a change’ all rolled into one.
After all, Dean didn’t ever think that breaking his neck would feel like this.
**
When Dean comes back for Sam at Stanford, he tells him that their dad is missing. That he needs Sam’s help to find him, and while he can do it himself, he doesn’t want to.
Sam still remembers his brother’s face, its features and lines, those wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that sometimes reminded him of the sun, every little thing about it. He still feels his heart missing a beat when he sees the shadows that darken his brother’s face, even after all those years that are more than he can count.
Now though, Sam distantly thinks that something is wrong with the way Dean looks at him, the way he lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. He doesn’t think twice about it in the end. Deep down inside, Sam always knew that this was never his life – a nice pretty girlfriend, school, then a normal job, a wife, the white picket fence life.
When he asks what their dad was hunting, Dean leads him to the car and opens its trunk. It’s dark outside and Dean’s light doesn’t work.
"I’ll bring the light," Sam says quietly, and Dean shudders, hearing these words. He turns his head and watches as Sam returns to his room.
"You definitely will," Dean whispers, feeling a slight trembling in his hands.
**
When they return from their first hunt in a few years as a team, Sam watches as Jessica dies on the ceiling in the fire. Sam doesn’t tell him that he dreamt about it a long time before it happened.
He says, "We’ve got work to do," and Dean doesn’t have an answer for that, because really, he just doesn’t have any power left to do so.
~end.
eva_lain ♥ ♥ ♥Huge thanks to
sulfuricfusion for the beta and making this story lisable :P ♥Comments are always ♥
The Point Of No Return
(Sam/Dean, NC-17, ~6300 words, au, spoilers for 5x04)
The point of no return is the point beyond which someone, or some group of people, must continue on their current course of action, either because turning back is physically impossible, or because to do so would be prohibitively expensive or dangerous. It is also used when the distance or effort required to get back would be greater than the remainder of the journey or task as yet undertaken
When Dean comes back for Sam at Stanford, he tells him that their dad is missing, that he needs Sam’s help to find him, and even though he can do it himself, he doesn’t want to.
Sam still remembers his brother’s face, its features and lines, those tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that sometimes reminded him of the sun; every little thing about it, even after all those years. He still feels his heart missing a beat when he sees the shadows creasing his brother’s face.
Now though, Sam distantly thinks that something is wrong with the way Dean looks at him, the way he lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. In the end he doesn’t think twice about it. Deep down inside Sam always knew that this was never his life – a nice pretty girlfriend, school, then a normal job, a wife, the white picket fence life. Because really, all he’s ever needed was an excuse to drop everything and hit the road. And he gets it.
That night Dean tells him their dad is missing, he never mentions to Sam his dreams.
**
It’s an ordinary case – well, at least as ordinary as it can be – when he wakes up, screaming and struggling to breathe, for the first time with his brother in the bed next to his.
He can’t see the darkness of the room. He’s still looking at the red flames that burn his skin, and the pain is so strong he can’t even breathe, can’t even scream because of the pain.
It’s only after a few minutes that he feels strong hands on his shoulders, a soft voice in his ear, and he understands that Sam’s here, his Sam, and they’re in a nameless dark motel room alone, and there are no screams of pain or evil laughter, or blood on his face or sharp blade in his stomach.
He buries his face in Sam’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent and trying to calm his racing heart.
Sam doesn’t remember his brother crying, ever. He wishes he won’t after this either.
That night Sam witnesses it for the first time.
**
When they hunt Bloody Mary, Sam finds out that it haunts only those who have secrets. He doesn’t tell Dean about it right away, because he knows, just knows, what will happen next.
It doesn’t take a psychic to see the future; it just takes a brother who knows the other better than anyone else. And he doesn’t say anything when Dean tells him, "I haven’t told you everything, Sammy. She’ll come for me."
**
He tells Sam about his dreams when they take this case in their old house in Lawrence and he has no other choice.
"I have these nightmares," he says after he shows Sam the awkwardly drawn tree and tells him where they need to go next.
"I’ve noticed," Sam answers, and Dean tries not to bite his lip, not to show the worry.
"And sometimes they come true," Dean says quietly, turning from his brother, just to not see the look on his face that says 'freak' without the words he wouldn’t say.
**
They go to their old house, but he never tells Sam that the night before he went for him at Stanford, Dean dreamt about him, pinned to the ceiling and burning up in the fire.
When they find out that the ghost in their old house is their mother, Sam’s stuck against the wall and trying not to let the tears fall, and Dean starts to wonder if his mom has all the answers.
"I’m sorry, Sam," she says softly, frowning, and Sam can forgive her, because right now, after all is said and done, it doesn’t matter anymore.
"And Dean," she takes a step backwards, turning to her older son, and her frown deepens. "What did you do?" she asks quietly, as if she doesn’t want Sam to hear.
That night, or maybe morning, when they drive away from the house as fast as they can, Dean, for the first time since everything started, feels the immense wish to tell someone.
Sam doesn’t say anything, he just stares out of the window like he has something on his mind, and Dean tries to tell himself that he imagined the smirk he saw on his brothers face, that this is his imagination playing tricks with him, and all he needs is just good, more-than-three-hours, sleep.
**
"Today?"
"No."
He wakes up with a loud scream, still feeling the flames on his skin, the taste of blood in his mouth and screams of all those souls he left back there. Back in his dream. Not the future or a past he could somehow forget. He tries to convince himself to believe this lie, feeling Sam’s hands on his back and nape, focusing on the soft circular stroking and quiet mumbling in his ear and the awful noise from thousands of voices starts to fade out in the dark.
After a few hours, he receives a message from their father with the coordinates. It’s the old asylum building. Dean, for the first time since it all started, wonders if he made the right choice, if there’s still a way out of this.
He vaguely remembers Sam’s face when he pointed the gun at him, telling Sam something he doesn’t remember after all, but he knows deep in his gut that he should regret it.
"Do it," Sam says, closing his eyes, "if you hate me that much, just pull the trigger."
And then Dean remembers why he did all of this and why it all started in the first place. It’s that one second that saves him from something so scary and awful and he just knows he wouldn’t be able to live with it.
When he comes to his senses, Sam’s there, smiling softly and studying his brother’s face.
Later Dean tells him that he didn’t mean any of it – and from all that happened, it’s the only truth he’s got, because Dean doesn’t have anything else to hold on to.
**
They cross different states, one after another, and Sam knows – feels – that there’s almost no hope of finding their dad. Dean knows it, too, he’s seen it too many times now, and though he would never say this to his brother, he just wants to spend time with Sam. Just a little more time before everything will go nowhere.
So that’s why in the hospital in Nebraska he doesn’t tell Sam that how dangerous their job is. He doesn’t tell him he’s going to die and there’s nothing Sam can do to stop it.
Instead, he smiles softly, turns off the daytime TV, and looks at Sam’s face, at the tears threatening to fall from his bloodshot eyes. He just says, "Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot," and tries to grin.
He doesn’t add ‘it’s not my time yet,’ even though it falls hard behind his lips.
**
The first time he dreams about the murder he’s waiting for another bloody nightmare full of screaming, pain, and fire. What he gets instead is a calm night and the man with his head cut out of his body and he doesn’t know what’s worse – to feel his own pain and its ghosts when he’s awake, or constantly thinking about someone he could save, that he really could save, but was a little too late.
Sam’s there, just like he always is, holding his brother and waiting until his breathing calms down.
"Dean, what happened?" Sam asks quietly, trying to look in his brother’s eyes and Dean knows what Sam’s really asking: What happened while I was gone, Dean? What happened to you?
Dean knows better than to tell him everything right away, though the temptation is so big he has to bite his lip until he feels the salty bite of blood in his mouth, if only not to start talking.
Later they find that Dean’s nightmares come to him not only in his sleep, but also when he’s awake, and Dean’s thankful that it’s not his usual nightmares.
Sam holds him so close that they’re sharing the same air, as if Sam’s trying to breathe away all the pain Dean’s feeling. He’s not sure why Sam does it, because since he came back they never talked about them – there were too many other problems and Dean didn’t want to try anything, because he knows that in the end it’ll still only be pain.
"Dean," Sam says quietly, and the older Winchester feels goose bumps all over his body, because Sam is here, so near he can brush his lips with his, feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth, the taste almost forgotten. “What did you do?” he whispers, trying to look into Dean’s eyes, as if he’s trying to look into his soul for answers. He doesn’t turn his gaze away – he’s never really been able to turn away from his little brother – and he almost opens his mouth to say those words, to say he’s sorry, that he didn’t have any other choice, but instead he presses his lips to Sam’s, hard and unexpectedly, and Sam doesn’t move away.
**
When they finally find their dad, beaten up and bleeding, Dean almost chokes the cry of relief, because he has less and less power to keep going.
"Boys," John says, embracing Dean, and for the first time since he came for Sam at Stanford he can breathe in and out, release the breath he didn’t know he was holding. There’s a glimpse of hope in his heart, because he always believed in his father, and with this belief comes the hope for a different future, the one he hasn’t already seen.
**
When they meet this girl Sarah, Dean vaguely remembers that this is exactly what he thought when it all started. He wished for Sam a better life, a life he could never have had, and when he sees how Sam looks at this girl, he feels a hint of something in his chest that he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to believe it’s jealousy because that would mean he’d just taken one step forward toward what he’s seen so many times at night.
Dean watches Sam as he crosses the space to the door in a few big steps, and he feels a sting when Sam kisses the girl. He almost wants to scream – not because Sam does it, but because he feels so… and with this feeling comes a thought that everything was in vain.
Sam comes back to his brother, watching him, narrowing his eyes, and for a moment Dean fears that right now he’ll hear those words – “I’ll leave you here” – and he doesn’t understand why now, why in this very moment, because it shouldn’t happen for a long time yet.
Sam smiles shyly at him, getting in the car and closing the door. Dean doesn’t get it right away, but his exhale is shuddering, and he needs to take a few moments to keep his hands from trembling.
**
"You will bring the light, Sammy," Dean says one night, eyes full of tears and darkness, and Sam can’t do anything but hold him as he’s done so many nights before.
It’s the first thing Dean says after the voices have quieted in his head and he can hear his own heart beating, loud and fast. He still feels a phantom pain of blades in his flesh but he tries to focus on the eyes right before his face.
"You will bring the light", he repeats, not able to tear his eyes away from his brother’s and Sam thinks, stupidly, that it’s a good thing.
He smiles softly, unsurely, because Dean is still shaking and he moves his hands up and down Dean’s back, trying to soothe the fear.
"I’ll do whatever you want me to, Dean," he says low and steady and Dean feels the shudder becoming stronger, but now it’s not the fear, it’s something else. He kisses Sam hard, practically crashing their mouths together, because he doesn’t want to, he can’t think about anything else right now, especially not about the choice he had to make once, and he knows he will have to make again.
Sam is breathing fast and loud, helping Dean pull his t-shirt off, and he can barely keep his hands off his brother. Dean pushes himself on Sam’s lap, trying to be even closer, as if it’s even possible right now, and he whimpers, feeling his hard-on brushing against Sam’s thigh. They kiss and touch, and Dean’s head is spinning because he hasn’t feel anything like this for such a long time, and sometimes, mostly after his dreams, he thinks that he’ll never feel again.
"Dean," Sam whispers, voice breaking at the edges, and Dean feels the heat building inside him just from the sound of this voice; different from the last time he heard it this way but so close to his heart and memory. He feels Sam’s hands on him, exactly on the right places, as if there weren’t all those years between them, then Sam’s fingers are under the waistband of Dean’s pants, and he’s sliding his hand in Dean’s boxers, and this, right here, is something Dean would swear is a dream if it wasn’t so real.
It doesn’t take long for him and Dean comes, almost screaming Sam’s name, struggling to breathe and keep his voice from breaking. Sam holds him, kissing the corner of his mouth, and maybe he even says something, but Dean can’t hear it because in his head there’s only voices, screams, telling him how wrong he is and how painful it’ll be for him in the end.
Dean shuts them off, returning to the reality, for once desiring it more than anything else, and he lays his head in the crook of Sam’s neck, lightly kissing the warm skin there, feeling Sam’s breathing, and closes his eyes.
That night he doesn’t dream of anything.
**
Sometimes he wonders what it’s like to wake up to the scream of terror and not be able to fall asleep long after that.
He wonders what’s happened to his brother that triggered something like this.
Sam doesn’t sleep well during the night, not after the first time he woke up to his brother’s terrified screams, not after he spent a good few hours to calm him down and another few to soothe him back to sleep. Yeah, not after that.
He sits on his bed, watching Dean’s chest quietly rise and fall, his lips trembling slightly, and Sam knows that another nightmare’s trying to creep into his dream. So he stands and just lies on Dean’s bed, kissing him on the temple and whispering softly in his ear, like he’s warning the evil not to disturb his brother’s sleep. He draws himself closer to Dean, pulling his hands around him, nuzzling the back of Dean’s neck.
**
When he almost dies, he’s sure that something’s going to change. He thinks maybe he’ll go to Hell, but when he opens his eyes and sees his body lying still on the hospital bed… for the first time in this whole mess, Dean freaks out.
He’s not here to make everything like he wanted, and he’s not there to make up his choice again – he’s in between, and everything he was fighting for is in between, too, and Dean wants to scream.
He doesn’t, even though he knows that no one will hear him. He just doesn’t have any energy left. When he sees Sam’s red eyes and the salty traces on his cheeks, he wants to raise his hand, try to reach up, but he knows that he can’t. So he doesn’t even try, because seeing it with his own eyes would make it the truth. He doesn’t need the truth. He was okay with the lie for a pretty long time.
"This isn’t gonna work… nothing will," he whispers, when Sam tries to speak with him, sitting on a cold floor of a hospital room, and Dean feels the hot tears streaming down his face when Sam laughs, watching the pointer of the ouija board move.
"It’s good to hear from you, man! It hasn’t been the same without you, Dean-" Sam says, barely containing himself from jumping on his feet.
Watching the board, Dean wonders if it would be the same if he wasn’t there at all.
**
He was sure he wouldn’t have any visions or nightmares after he woke up in that hospital.
He hoped so, God, he just hoped.
But now, when he tries to start breathing again, he just knows that there’s no end to any of this. Even if he closes his eyes and pretends he’s not here, the pain is still there, and the heat is still there, and the worst of it - he doesn’t know where it comes from.
"Dean?" He doesn’t hear the door open or Sam fall to his knees on the floor right beside Dean. He doesn’t register any of it, like his feelings and senses are already start to die.
"What’d you see?" Sam tries again, and Dean sees the worry in his brother’s eyes, the fear and anger and love so big he can’t hold back a choke. He dreamt of his brother, his Sammy, pointing a gun to an innocent man, and that’s when Dean’s hope and faith are crashing down so fast and hard that he feels the physical pain bearing down in his chest.
"There’s no way out," Dean whispers, as if he’s afraid to hear it out loud. "No matter how hard I try, there’s just no other choice, there’s no way out-" he tries to keep his voice steady, but he fails so hard at it, he scares himself.
"There’s always a choice," Sam answers, cupping Dean’s face in his big warm hands. This is so familiar Dean almost loses himself in it. "I’ll make sure you make the right one," Sam whispers, before he reaches for Dean’s lips and softly kisses him, holding him here, in reality.
In the end, this is exactly what frightens Dean the most. Sam will make sure. He always does.
**
It’s Sam who needs to make a choice now, and Dean’s not sure if his own faith is stronger, because seeing the tears on his brother’s face is a torture more painful than everything he’s been dreaming about. He can't imagine himself in Sam's place. He knows he was there, but he can't remember the feeling of doing it for the first time. Sacrifice someone to save this person...
"I’ll do it," Dean says, still holding the gun, feeling the warmth of Sam’s palm with the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t want to do it, God he’s done it so many times, but when it comes to his little brother, Dean’s ready to take a sin, just so his baby brother won’t suffer.
"No." Dean is surprised, a little because he doesn’t expect Sam to say this, but somewhere back in his mind he knew this would happen. Sam’s voice is steady and confident, and he takes Dean’s gun, gripping it, and takes a deep breath.
Dean watches Sam and he thinks that he started falling long before this day, long before dad’s death and the nightmares. He was no good to any of his fathers, and he’s still trying, even knowing it.
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he shudders when he hears the gunshot. It’s ringing in his ears long before there’s nothing but silence, and when Dean sees Sam’s face, he knows it’s a lost battle, because you can’t make everything right even if you can turn it over.
Sam watches him, his eyes dark, and Dean wants to scream, like he’s wanted so many times before. He feels like there’s nothing but unreleased screams in his body, and for a few minutes he can’t even move. He knows they need to do something with the body. He knows he needs to do something with Sam, with himself, and with everything that’s happened.
He knows they need to forget, though they’ll never be able to.
That night they fuck so hard that Dean is finally screaming, releasing the pain and fear, the love and anger, all his regrets and doubts, and when Sam screams, too, crying out Dean’s name and releasing himself in Dean’s body, he knows there’s no other choice but the one he’s already made. It all comes down to this very point in time that’s called the point of no return, or maybe it’s just fate. Dean knows he has to fight until he sees it all, only to come back to the start, with the understanding that nothing matters.
When he hears Sam’s squeezed cries, and when he feels the wetness of tears on his neck, Dean knows that even after he’s lost everything including himself, one thing still matters to him.
**
When djinn puts him in the alternate reality, Dean’s lost completely, because he can’t say what the truth was before, where it was after and where it is now.
He meets Sam and his girlfriend, who he vaguely remembers from Stanford, and after dinner they talk about the hunt and Sam says the only thing Dean really wants to hear.
"I’ve never been hunting in my life," Sam says, looking at Dean like he’s drunk. He goes back to his room, to sleep in his bed with his girlfriend, and Dean thinks maybe he should let it go from the start, maybe he should never have come back to Stanford, because after all, it’s him who dragged Sam along, it’s him who drove them right into the hands of death. It’s him who was driving all that time.
Later that night he’s watching TV and catches some late night news program when it all hits him. It’s the anniversary of the crash of the United Britannia Flight 424 and Dean cries when he understands that he’s willing to give it all, just to save his brother. He’s willing to let all those people die if his Sammy will never know the life outside of this perfectly shaped world with their mother alive, and everything Sammy was dreaming about.
Dean can’t fall asleep that night, and when he does, when he’s completely exhausted, he still sees nightmares. He thought that if he was in an alternate universe that the dreams should be different, too. But they’re not. So he wakes up in a cold sweat, trembling like a leaf, and he chokes, trying not to cry too loud because there’s no one here to protect him, there’s no Sam for him in this world and Dean knows that’s the price he has to pay. He has to know that Sam’s in the room next to his and that he won’t come.
Dean doesn’t know why exactly he does what he does. He’s not sure why he sliced the silver knife into his own flesh – whether he wanted to be back to Sam because he needs him, or because he couldn’t make it without him.
When he sees Sam’s terrified eyes, when he’s back to reality, and his little brother pulls the needle from his neck, Dean decides for himself why he did it. Not that he would ever tell Sam that. More small lies for the better. And Dean knows that he will have to give a lot more lies than he already has.
**
Sam reassured Dean that he did the right thing. He told Dean that he’s glad he’s back to Sam, because Sam couldn’t go on without his older brother.
Dean doesn’t believe in it right away, not completely, because he knows. He doesn’t tell this to Sam either, what he tells him is a simple, "I’ll always be here, Sammy."
When they stop for food at some local diner, Dean doesn’t understand what’s happening. Maybe because he doesn’t pay much attention, or maybe because his senses are already dead.
Next thing he remembers is that he’s dreaming again, and he could swear that he heard Sam’s frightened voice, more like a scream, and he opens his eyes sharply, sitting on the cold ground, in the middle of nowhere, between the empty old houses with broken windows and the grey sky above his head, and he just knows.
He’s seen it, after all.
When he has to fight Jake, the anxiousness to finally see Sam is the only thing that keeps him going. He’s tired and his body’s aching, but he stands, nursing his right arm, and the pain is now more like a dull thumping.
"Dean!" He turns around and sees, finally, Sam and Bobby, and he sees Sam’s face change from relieved to frightened in less than a moment and then there’s only pain, sharp and hot, slicing his back.
By now he’s kind of used to it; his dreams are always so vivid that he’s checking his body for almost an hour after each experience, because the pain is always too much to bear.
**
"You stupid son of a bitch, couldn’t wait any longer to make your dreams come true, huh?"
He opens his eyes to find himself, finally pitched to the crucifix with his feet bare and t-shirt soaked in blood. So that’s where it all came from.
"You have a talent to ruin everything, I have to give you that," the voice says, and Dean can only smirk at this.
"You tried so hard, Dean, didn’t you?" He hears the hoarse voice somewhere from the left and he doesn’t need to turn his head to see who stands there. He’s seen it, after all.
"Go to hell," Dean moans tiredly, closing his eyes again, and he feels like someone’s standing right in front of him.
"We’re already there, hunter, your whishes are finally coming true."
After that he only feels pain, pain so much stronger and worse than in his nightmares, and he can’t even lose consciousness.
**
He tries to convince himself that he’s dead for good and at the same time that it’s just a dream, one of those nightmares he’s gotten used to, because he can’t bear the thought that he’s actually in Hell.
He feels something solid under his back and he realizes that he’s actually lying down and not tied up to something in the air. And then he feels hands, and Dean’s first thought is to scream, to try to free himself, try to run. He doesn’t even understand that he’s already doing it when he hears a familiar voice.
"Dean!" Sam screams, trying to steady his brother, because Dean still won’t open his eyes. "Dean! Wake up, it’s me! Dean!" Sam begs, already crying, holding on to his brother so tight, like there’s nothing else in the whole world.
"You’re not him," Dean says, voice shaking, cracking, and he’s afraid to open his eyes, because he can’t see another demon with the soft voice of his brother. "Don’t you-" he tries to shake those hands off, but he’s not that strong, not anymore.
"Dean, I’m begging you, open your eyes, please, it’s me-"
And then there’re those warm hands on his cheeks, and light kisses all over his face, and Dean can’t help it anymore, there’s no more flames and pain, no blades and blood, it’s so familiar and he just gives up and slowly opens his eyes.
It’s so bright that he immediately closes them again, because he feels his eyes on fire, so used to the darkness of the place he’s been to so long.
"Dean-" Sam says quietly, almost whispers, and Dean tries again, slowly opens his eyes, and this time he sees him; his brother, his Sam, not some demon with black eyes and bloody face and teeth so sharp they’re like blades.
"Sam," Dean chokes, barely lifting his hand, because there’s no power left in his body, it’s like he doesn’t even have his body anymore.
He turns his head only to see that they’re in the open field with grass so green it’s not even real, and Dean wonders if this really is the reality.
"You’re back, God-" Sam pulls him in a hug, lifting from hard ground and Dean feels like Sam’s hands are closing around his body so tightly he can’t even breathe for a few seconds.
This is when the thought occurs to him, because no one can just walk out of Hell, especially not the one it was written for from the very beginning.
"Sammy," Dean cups Sam’s cheek with the weak and cut hand, and Sam takes his hand in his own, because he just can’t not. "What did you do?" Dean whispers. He tried so hard, so long, and still, he couldn’t do anything.
"What did I do? What did you do?" Sam asks, frowning, and he can’t keep the tears any longer; now they’re streaming down his cheeks, and Dean doesn’t know what to do, what to say, what to even think.
"What?"
"When you were alone, when… I was away, in Stanford, what did you do?" Sam repeats, more steadily this time, because it’s always easier to be angry, something Dean knows better than anyone else.
His frown is so deep, it almost makes Dean smile. Sam always reminded him of a little boy when he pouted or was angry with something, and now Dean doesn’t feel like arguing. For the first time he feels like he’s ready to tell him the truth.
"I tried. Sammy, I swear to God I tried, as hard as I could, and still-" Dean sucks in a breath, because there’s something in the side of his body that he feels only now.
"Easy, you’re just a human, don’t forget that," Sam says, helping Dean to sit up and putting his shirt over the wound to stop the bleeding. He holds him tightly and Dean rests his head on Sam’s chest, feeling so safe he almost forgets how everything is.
"You too, Sammy," Dean whispers and Sam’s not sure if he hears it right.
**
Dean doesn’t remember the last year, anything that happened between the sharp pain in his back up until the even stronger pain in his whole body. It’s all like a blur and he’s not sure if he ever wants to remember what was in between.
He remembers the place, where Sam helps him to his feet and they’re walking to the Impala. The trees around are lying flat on the ground, like there was some kind of a blast. He doesn’t say anything; he’s not ready to hear the truth, even though in the back of his mind he already knows.
**
Even after he’s been to hell and back, literally, he still expects the nightmares to go away,
They don’t.
"Today?"
"No."
He knows the dream, the nightmare, he’s seen it too many times, and he knows that after a series of "no" there will be one "yes." There will only be one, and it will be enough.
He feels like the last blood in his body is drifting away, leaving nothing but numbness, and now Dean doesn’t feel anything, no pain or heat, he just watches those black eyes looking straight into his soul, and as tired as he is, as lost as his is, he gives in.
"Today?" the voice repeats, the corners of the awfully shaped and sliced mouth already curved in a smirk.
"Yes."
He cries with bloody tears when he picks up the blade, he cries when he cuts his first wound, he cries when he damages his first soul.
Dean sits up sharply, waving his right hand as if he’s trying to hit something, and he cries when Sam’s there, gripping him tight, trying to soothe him, pressing Dean’s face to his chest in an attempt to show him that he’s here, that Dean’s back and he’s safe. Sam’s sliding his hand in Dean’s damp hair, wet from the cold sweat, and he’s rubbing his nape, mumbling something, swaying a little.
"So many, Sam, there were so many," Dean chokes, gripping Sam’s t-shirt tightly, "and I couldn’t even-" he wanted to say ‘choose’ but it would be a lie, because he had a choice, after all, and he made it, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Dean, it’s ok, you don’t have to explain," Sam says softly, not sure if he actually wants to hear this explanation. "For me it doesn’t matter. You have to know that."
"It should matter, Sam," Dean whispers, lifting his eyes to meet Sam’s. He still hopes he can do something, though everything that already happened proves him wrong. "It’s the only thing that-" Dean stops, realizing what he’s about to say. Sam looks in his eyes, as if he’s trying to guess. "It’s the only thing that makes us different from them," Dean finishes. He’s practically sitting on Sam’s lap now, not caring about anything, trying to find the light in Sam’s eyes, a little spark that will save his own hope.
Sam’s kissing him hard, then softer, biting his lip, and making a way to Dean’s mouth with his tongue. Dean moans, raising himself a little, trying to sit even closer.
It’s the last thing he remembers about his brother. The last thing he wants to remember.
**
He was told that no matter what, it will all end up there, and he remembered those words through everything, no matter what.
And now, pinned beneath the boot of his own foot from five years into the future, he doesn’t think ever he had a chance to start with. He sees himself smirk, and the pressure on his neck becomes stronger.
"Stop!" He hears screaming, drifting from his dreams to reality and back again. "Stop-" the voice repeats, and Dean barely turns his head, seeing his brother a few feet away with a terrified look on his face, and Dean knows that it’ll end here, where the loop of events started.
"Don’t you get it?" Dean asks, standing there, head held high, with his foot on the neck of himself. "You never did, never will. Blind hope, stupid love, even more stupid sacrifice." The face, not-Dean, grins, but he doesn’t put away his foot.
"I’ll do it," Sam says, making a little step forward. Dean knows Sam figured it all out a long time ago, because he’s smarter than anyone else Dean knew or ever will. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to explain it all himself.
He looks at Sam with his eyes filling up with tears and absentmindedly imagines what it’ll feel like when someone breaks his neck. Not that it’ll be too long until he finds out.
"I’ll do anything you want me to, just-"
"Let him go? Sammy, didn’t you figure out already that it won’t matter anymore once you say ‘yes’?"
"It will matter," Sam says stubbornly, "it’s the only thing that makes us different from you," he spits out, gritting his teeth harshly. Lucifer grins, like this is entertaining for him somehow, and he breathes in deeply.
Sam looks at Dean, with a look that only his brother will recognize. It’s ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘don’t worry, it’s my turn to look for my brother for a change’ all rolled into one.
After all, Dean didn’t ever think that breaking his neck would feel like this.
**
When Dean comes back for Sam at Stanford, he tells him that their dad is missing. That he needs Sam’s help to find him, and while he can do it himself, he doesn’t want to.
Sam still remembers his brother’s face, its features and lines, those wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that sometimes reminded him of the sun, every little thing about it. He still feels his heart missing a beat when he sees the shadows that darken his brother’s face, even after all those years that are more than he can count.
Now though, Sam distantly thinks that something is wrong with the way Dean looks at him, the way he lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. He doesn’t think twice about it in the end. Deep down inside, Sam always knew that this was never his life – a nice pretty girlfriend, school, then a normal job, a wife, the white picket fence life.
When he asks what their dad was hunting, Dean leads him to the car and opens its trunk. It’s dark outside and Dean’s light doesn’t work.
"I’ll bring the light," Sam says quietly, and Dean shudders, hearing these words. He turns his head and watches as Sam returns to his room.
"You definitely will," Dean whispers, feeling a slight trembling in his hands.
**
When they return from their first hunt in a few years as a team, Sam watches as Jessica dies on the ceiling in the fire. Sam doesn’t tell him that he dreamt about it a long time before it happened.
He says, "We’ve got work to do," and Dean doesn’t have an answer for that, because really, he just doesn’t have any power left to do so.
~end.
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