Rating – PG15
Fandom - Supernatural
Pairing – Sam/Dean Winchester
Warning - Incest
Summary –Set after All Hell Breaks Loose Part two, The boys are faced with a problem when 'Sam' from the wish verse in What is and What Should Never Be, pops up in this universe.
Disclaimer – Sadly nothing in the Supernatural fandom belongs to me. But Eric Kripki and the CW have the bragging rights for owning everything.
Beta - Thanks to sailorhathor & tyniere for a wonderful beta. Any and all mistakes left are mine.
Safe
Sam wonders if he should even bother putting this one down in the journal, because he has a pretty good feeling that this is one case he and Dean are not going to forget anytime soon, if ever. It's not every night you wake up to your brother holding a knife to your throat demanding to know who you really are; stranger than that, even, is finding out that you really are who you are, and that the guy who Dean thought was the real you is kinda the real you after all, just from a different universe…the very same one that Dean created in his head when the djinn got him. And it's really hard to try to put into words why Dean's world was fake and this perfectly real one is, well, real, just on some other plane. Sam thinks it's more of a "you had to be there to hear it the first time" type of thing.
So, with two days of awkwardness, research, and phones calls to Bobby behind them, they are here, in some old rundown mansion that hasn't been used since the '40s. With a storm roaring outside, lightning flashes like brief visitations of daylight every few minutes, which is followed by thunder loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain pours down in a solid sheet, seeping through the bad weather stripping on the windowsills and leaking onto the floor, causing puddles to form that reflect the flickering light of nearby candles.
Everything has been set up, and Dean is busy doing a second check to make sure everything is in the right place, going over the Latin chant he'll have to say in order for this thing to work. Sam may be better at the language, but Dean doesn't want to risk having Sam saying it and it some how cause him to go back with the other Sam; best Sam just sit on the sidelines and watch this one pan out. So while Dean is off being his overprotective big brother self, Sam is stuck with 'Other Sam.'
Other Sam looks half-crazed with fear. Dean wasn't kidding when he said he was a wuss. Sam continues to watch his mirror image as he paces back and forth, jumping every time thunder claps, windows rattle, and shadows flicker.
It's kind of amusing, really, to see the man he could have been if he didn't have Dean to teach and guide him. A part of him wants to sit down and talk to himself, but he really doesn't see the point. Other Sam isn't real -- neither is the Jess or Mary in his world. Sam is as different from him as night is to day. He's not going to sit around and fish for information on a life he doesn't have, doesn't want.
A life where he and Dean aren't together is one he wants no part of.
mwmwm
When he went to sleep two nights ago with Jess laying next to him, back to back, he never would have imagined this happening in a million years. Seriously, this was just unheard of. But it happened. He woke up knowing something was wrong before he even opened his eyes. He could smell the staleness in the air. The sheets under him were scratchy and course, a far cry from the Martha Stewart brand he fell asleep on.
The most noticeable thing wrong though was that he couldn't feel Jess' rough heels brushing against the back of his calves, couldn't feel the warmth of her body heating up his back, and couldn't smell even the faintest scent of her perfume that would prove she was ever there.
To say panic had set in would have been an understatement. Thankfully, he was able to get a hold of Dean, which he can't quite figure out, but oddly enough phone numbers are the same in different universes. Well according to Dean anyway, when he was rambling on about the same thing happening to him but it didn't really matter anyway as long as he got back home, back to a place where Jess and his mother were still alive, back to a world that didn't have demons and monsters.
In just a little while, he would be.
So until Dean and Sam gave the word that everything was a go, he'd walk around and pretend he was half as tough as the Winchesters were supposed to be.
He turns the corner and stops in his tracks at what he sees in front of him. A squeak of shock escapes from his lips, but Sam and Dean don't notice, too far off in their own world to care. He continues to watch as Dean cups Sam's face and kisses him deeper, watches as Sam's arms tighten around Dean to pull him closer, doesn't say a word when both bodies start rubbing against each other. Sam's leg slips between Dean's to cause more friction. He listens to the soft moans and whispers shared between the two men, whispers of want, need, and love.
This Dean and his Dean look exactly alike, except for a few scars of course, but the hair, the eyes, the nose, the freckles…all of it, just the same. It should be reassuring, but this Dean makes him nervous, far more intense than the Dean he knows. This one is harder, a million years older than he should be, with sad eyes that can't hide the truth of an innocence lost too young and life lived too rough, no matter what lies the cocky grin tries to tell.
They didn't exactly sit him down and tell him their life story, but the more he watches this Dean and Sam together, the more he realizes that the two Deans only share a face, nothing else. While his Dean was stealing his lunch money and breaking his toys, this Dean was beating anybody up who so much as tried to steal a penny off of "Sammy," and building toys from old junk he found so Sammy could have something on his birthday. Sure, his presents were wrapped up in month-old comics with printing in red crayon that declared 'Happy Birthday,' but when you didn't have a mom to wrap them right, a big brother did the best he could.
That's another thing. "Sammy". His mother and father would call him that more when he was younger than now, but never Dean; to Dean, he was always Sam. Maybe 'doofus, geek, pain in the ass,' but never Sammy. When he hears Dean say that name, but not to him, he can't help but feel a brief flutter of jealousy wash over him. He never would have imagined that his name could carry so much respect, caring, and love. For the first time since he's been here, he thinks that maybe this world isn't so bad after all.
He backs out of the room without disturbing them; he'll come back in a few minutes, ensuring that he makes noise to warn them of his entrance.
mwmwm
Dean's kissing him with a certainty and finality, intense, like there's no tomorrow. Dean has never kissed him like that before, not even the first time. It worries him.
What worries him even more is the look Dean has in his eyes, when he's brushing his thumb over Sam's cheek, like he's memorizing his face, making sure he knows every last detail.
When they hear footsteps coming down the hall and a floorboard creaking, they go to pull apart, but not before Dean leans in and places a kiss on the mole by his nose, his lips lingering as he whispers, "Showtime, Sammy."
mwmwm
Dean knows he's doing the right thing.
This is the way it has to be.
Sam will forgive him.
Eventually.
mwmwm
He thought there would be less flash and smoke, that the other Sam would just flicker away, but no, it was something like one of those corny supernatural shows they have on TV. There was a loud boom and blue smoke, and maybe it was the lightning or maybe it was the chanting, but there was this huge, bright flash of light, and when it all settled down, the room was one Sam less than what it started with.
"Why am I still here?"
He can see the flicker of relief that washes over Dean's face, a flicker so quick and subtle that the other Sam never would have noticed, but he does. When Dean continues to only be concerned but not overly panicked by the fact that his real little brother is God knows where living somebody else's life, he knows that his hunch was right -- Dean was trying to send him back instead of the other Sam, send him back to a life he doesn't know at all. A life without Dean, without them, and it hurts.
"What do you mean?" Dean puts a slight bit of panic in his voice to make himself sound convincing.
"I'm still here, Dean! You said it would work, that I'd go back to my life." Sam plays along until he has the chance to hang Dean with the truth.
"We'll, I'll fix this. We'll get you back there and I'll get my Sam back. You think I want to be stuck with you?"
He knows his brother can pull off any con he tries, has watched as Dean lied his way into thousands of places to get just what he needs, but he's never noticed just how good Dean is at it, has never paid that much attention. Now that he's on the receiving end, he can see him slip into character; the words are right, the tone is right, but there is this glimmer to his eyes that betrays him. Dean's lying through his teeth -- he has no plans of ever switching the two Sams around again, and isn't surprised that they switched in the first place.
"I can't stay here, Dean. I don't belong here. I want my life back. I want Jess and Mom, and I even want to patch things up with my Dean before it's too late. I can't be here. I don't know your life. I don't know what to do. How long do you think it's going to take before I end getting myself killed?" The real Sam panics and raises his voice in an effort to do a good impersonation of his more wussy version.
"I'll protect you, Sam. You're still my little brother."
"I'm not. I have his face and I have his voice, but I'm not him, Dean. I'm not your Sammy." Sam knows he's laying it on pretty thick, but he needs for Dean to realize what he's done, or could have done. The damage he could have caused.
"You think I don't know that? You think I wanted this?" He can see the honesty in Dean's eyes, the flicker of sadness, telling Sam that Dean knows what he's done, the price he has to pay by once again putting everybody but himself first.
"Then why?"
"Why what?"
"You were the one in charge of setting everything up. You were the one to put the crystals in place. You did it on purpose."
"That's what you think? It's no wonder you and Dean don't get along. You have no faith in him. You have no faith in us. Whatever."
"Why Dean? Why would you send him away? Did you get tired of him? Still think he's going to go all big and bad? Did you want him to be somebody else's problem for a change?"
Dean pushes him against the wall, arm pressed into his chest as he leans in and warns him, "Shut up!"
"Then why?" Sam asks, and his voice is soft and low, so much so that if Dean wasn't in his face, he never would have heard. But it's enough.
"Because he's safe." And as Dean says the words, his voice soft and broken, but yet confident all at the same time, Sam's heart breaks. Dean continues, "He'll be safe when I'm not there to protect him. I only got a few months left, and who's going to watch out for him after that? He wouldn't leave on his own. I tried, damn it, I tried. I tried to get him to go back to school, to settle down somewhere. To let me finish this on my own. Doesn't matter what happens to me; my destination is all mapped out, One-Way ticket to the warmest place on earth. But Sammy, he has to be safe, he has to be happy, and I can't do that, not any more. So yeah, I'm sorry you're stuck with me, and I'm sorry you can't have your little girlfriend and your mom with her white picket fence, but now he can. He can have the life he should have always had, and he doesn't have to watch me die."
"And you think that's fair to him? That he doesn't deserve the chance to spend the rest of your life with you? That he doesn't get a chance to say good-bye? Dean, he loves you. Don't you get that? Can't you tell that you are the most important person to him? Nothing else matters, just you."
Dean loosens his grip and backs away, giving a little snicker as he looks back up and catches Sam's eye. "He deserves better."
"Better? Better than what Dean? Better than a big brother who kissed scraped knees and sang lullabies, or who fought closet monsters and cheap tooth fairies? Better than a friend who talked me through first kisses and junior high dances? Maybe better than a lover who loves unconditionally."
"Sam?"
"Or maybe he deserves better than somebody who would sell his soul for him. He deserves better than that?"
"Sammy?"
"Damn it, Dean"
"Sammy, no. No, Sammy, no. You're not supposed to be here."
"I'm not leaving you, Dean. I won't."
"Gonna follow me to hell, Sammy?" Dean asks with a challenge to his voice.
"If I have to."
"You stupid son of a bitch." Dean's voice holds no anger just defeat.
Sam rests his hand on Dean's neck and pulls him closer, "You'd do the same for me, Dean."
"Yeah, well, nobody ever accused me of being smart."
"You're stuck with me, Dean; I'm not leaving you, not again. So if that means we both have to find our way to some alternate universe, or I have to stand in the way of some hellhound so that it drags us both away, then that's the way it's gonna be."
"Sammy…"
"Dean, I love you."
Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Sam continues without giving him the chance.
"Shut up, Dean. You tried sending me to an alternate universe, so I get to have my big chick flick moment as payback."
"Bitch."
Sam smiles. "I love you Dean, so much that I can't breathe sometimes. And I really don't understand how you don't get that, how you don't see how much you mean to me." He pauses, catches his breath before continuing, You know how much you love me? I do, I know exactly how much you love me, and I've never doubted your love for one single second, not ever. But Dean, I love you more. Honestly, I do, so you gotta let me do this." Sam grabs Dean's hand and links their fingers together. "You've kept your promise, Dean, now let me keep mine. I will save you, if it's the last thing I do, I will save you."
Sam rests his forehead against Dean's, and their eyes close as their noses touch. Soft breath warms the air, and Sam knows Dean remembers when he said the same words, with the same amount of meaning and determination.
"I promise you I will," Sam breathes. Lips meet, tongues collide and the deal is sealed.