Defender of the Earth
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Member No.: 2
Joined: 1-October 05
Challenge 3, Alternate Endings
Pilot, Bloody Mary, Home, Asylum, Scarecrow, Faith, Hell House, and Croatoan specifically. Mostly season one, though I could have picked scenes from just about any episode to make the same point.
Warning: I can't ever kill 'em, but this might be interpreted as a death fic, and as I hate death fics that don't have warnings, I'm warning ya. But like I said, I don't kill anyone here.
What Lucid Dreams May Come by burstynout
Sam kisses her like she’ll dissolve; with his eyes closed, as if in a dream. He can only feel her, smell her, taste her, but he knows she is there. She is real. He wraps himself around her, keeps her solid, keeps her real, though he can’t see her, and he lets himself hope that once they’re asleep, she’ll still be this – soft, and warm, and sparking under his fingertips like static on cold stainless steel.
He lets himself believe that she’ll stay that way forever, never brokenbleedingtwistedburning above him.
Never the way he sees her when he dreams.
He’s tired, though, and so is she. Sleep comes, and with it dreams. And this time, Dean comes, too.
Sam knows that Constance jumped to her death off this very bridge. So when the ghost-driven Impala coasts to a stop, and he has time to catch his breath, the fact that Dean isn’t right there beside him causes his heart to leap into his throat. It’s a long way down.
Sam swallows hard against the icy fist that’s gripped him in its talons, adjusts his grasp tentatively, and hauls himself up. He closes his eyes, afraid what he’ll find when he opens them, because he can’t see Dean brokenbleedingmangleddying below him. He won’t. He pushes that thought as far from him as possible because he needs his brother to be okay. When he closes his eyes and calls out, “Dean,” he believes Dean can answer.
And Dean does. He might smell like a toilet, but smelly is okay, better than okay. It’s as real as skinned knees, and stomach flu, and stitches without anesthetic; all the things he needs Dean for. And Dean, sitting beside him, right where Sam needs him to be, that’s Dean exactly the way Sam sees him when he closes his eyes to sleep. That’s the Dean he’s dreamed about since he was six months old.
Where else would he be?
When Jess isn’t home, Sam worries, but he eats the chocolate chip cookies, tastes Jess in his mouth, and lies back on the bed to see what dreams will come.
Dean comes again. Sam needs him, because Jess is brokenbleedingtwistedburning above him, just like she always is in his dreams. Dean saves him, just the way Dean always does, the way Sam knows he always will.
The belief is Sam’s, and the need is mutual. They’re both broken, and neither has anywhere to be but together, for now.
They bleed together, before the mirror breaks. Sam believes he killed Jess, and Dean doesn’t. Mary doesn’t care. She doesn’t see grey. It’s what Sam believes that matters, what Sam believes that draws her out.
Sam has a hard time believing that Dean’s eyes bleed, too. But this isn’t the Dean that Sam remembers. This is the one he broke. Sam believes there are some things they keep for themselves, including just what it is that’s broken.
So they bleed together in silence, brothers in blood, because that’s what brothers do. Neither has a hard time believing that.
Dean’s nowhere around when the demon in their old house catches Sam. He’s nowhere around when the electrical cord snakes around Sam’s neck and tries to wring the life out of him, without mercy. Sam needs him so badly just then, but Dean isn’t there.
And so, the life drains from him, like sand through an hourglass, taking with it the light, until all Sam knows is darkness. It’s deeper than sleep, his last breath a dream, and Dean comes.
Sam needs him. Where else would he be?
Missouri threatens to beat him with a spoon, and Mary seems surprised to see him there, maybe a little sad, but Sam is glad Dean is with him, taking Missouri’s abuse and suffering Mary’s sleight, when he sees his mother, really sees her, for the first and last time that he will ever remember before she’s cryingsighingburninggone.
This is home. This is where families belong. Their family began and ended here; a brother became a father here, and a sibling became a hero-slash-martyr in the hour of its demise. Where else would Dean be?
When Sam pulls the trigger and Dean flies away from him, then writhes, and moans, and pleads, Sam doesn’t see the irony.
After he steals the car and heads back to Burkittsville to rescue Dean from the danger he just knows that Dean is in, Sam realizes that in a matter of days, he has twice condemned his brother for being exactly what Sam already knows he is.
Loyal, trusting, and true. Dean is all these things to a fault. Sam knows this and expects it. Nothing is new except Sam’s desire for Dean to be more. Sam wants to believe that Dean can be more. He’ll have to fix that.
Yeah, he needs to fix Dean's ass, just as soon as he saves it. But Dean's gonna take awhile to fix. Sam's okay with that.
Dean’s lying too still in the water by the time Sam gallops down the stairs, three at a time, and dives to his side, oblivious of the freezing liquid and stench of burnt flesh and death that surrounds him. Dean looks dead. And Sam knows he should be, judging by the discharged taser clenched in his brother’s fist and the power that Sam knows that weapon once held.
But Sam’s Dean is never dead. That’s not how Sam needs him. He needs his Dean here, and real, and now, so when he presses his fingers to the clammy skin of Dean’s neck, Sam finds a pulse. There is no other option. Of course Dean is still here. Where else would he be?
Dean tells Sam he can’t fix it. But Sam doesn’t believe that. Not for one minute. He doesn’t believe Dean can die. Not Sam’s Dean. Sam’s Dean is always there for Sam, and that’s just the way it is. So, when he lies back on his bed for a second, surrounded by books, and printouts, and medical reports, he dreams of a cure, and the phone rings.
And Sam isn’t surprised that the cure works. Because Dean is always there when Sam needs him. And Jess is always brokenbleedingtwistedburning.
Sam prefers his dreams of Dean.
Sam almost finds the truth in Texas. He gets close enough to question his own reality.
“How many of the things we hunt are only real because people believe they are?”
He never asks, “How many of the hunters…?” Because, well, he might be heart-on-his-sleeve wearing dude, Mr. Chick Flick Moments himself, but that doesn’t mean he treads on eggshells when he can walk around them. Especially when his whole world is painted on them in shades of Dean.
Instead, giddy with laughter from days of pranks, and play, and being brothers, brothers just like they once were, the way Sam remembers them, he lets the thought pass.
And they go on, roadtripping brothers, passing the same landmarks a hundred times, skirting the same issues. Dean almost dies, almost breaks, never leaves, and Sam isn’t surprised at all, because Dean belongs with him. Where else would he be?
When the demon virus taints him, Sam wants Dean to escape, doesn’t want him marred, and evil, and angry. So he tells Dean to live, to go on without Sam.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Dean says.
What he doesn’t say is, “I can’t.” He doesn’t say that he can’t be Dean without Sam. He doesn’t have to, because Dean believes it. Deep down somewhere, Sam believes that, too.
If they believe it, it must be true. After all, Bloody Mary didn’t see grey areas, and neither do Sam and Dean. Their daddy didn't raise them that way.
This is better, because if they see only black-and-white, they cannot look into the grey blanket of the fog and see that they disappear in the mist.
Sam has dreams, and sometimes they come true. Dean had dreams once, and they all included Sam.
Now they dream together.
Not all of Sam’s dreams are nightmares. His dreams include Dean, too. He just doesn’t know it yet. And he won’t.
Until they are fixed, they are too broken to see Dean anywhere but where Sam needs him to be. Until Dean is fixed, Sam can’t let him go. Until Dean is more, they will only see the black-and-white - the natural, alive, and warm; the supernatural, dead, and cold.
Dreams are black-and-white.
Tulpas are grey, but they wear Dean-colored masks. Sam sees them. His keeps him safe.
A/N: This is a blatant rip off of the video game, Final Fantasy X. This is Dean=Tidus.
A/N2: I apologize to anyone who read this and didn't get that Dean is Sam's tulpa. I don't like to pull punches when I write, which means, sometimes people get TKO'd by my logic. Again, I apologize.