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Sam Winchester ([personal profile] collegedropout) wrote1990-11-27 09:34 pm

it's impossible to really kill off a winchester i guess


Sam Winchester died.

Okay, so it's not really that surprising to him. After all, he's a Winchester, and they are fated to die
on multiple occasions. Usually, though, they just don't stay dead. It had all started on a normal hunt, 
a completely straight-forward salt and burn for a ghost that had out-deaded it's time at some old, 
crusty mansion people kept dying at (you would think someone would notice such a string of bad 
luck, but ah well). It had been normal until Sam was faced with the rage-stricken man's spirit, ended
up taking a meat cleaver across his gut, deep enough that he had to hold them in his body, writhing
and waiting for Dean to realize something was wrong; it's usually pretty quick, and he was right. After
being dragged to the Impala, laid out sloppily in the back seat, Sam considered how it was ending —

Because he was definitely not surviving this one. Blood had pumped out so fast, all over him, covering
the upholstery, his clothes, his brother. That was the worst thing of all; to die like this, fuck up Dean's 
life with him by making this the last memory he had of him, sprawled out in the back seat, saying
don't think I'm okay
(fucking obvious, Sam, duh) in a wheezing, horrible voice, until finally you're just
choking on your own blood and your only family in the world has to pull over to see if he can save you
from suffocating.

As it turns out, all he had left to offer Dean was dribbling blood all over the man's jacket sleeve and then
just... going. Only — he didn't go. He was still here, still watching in horror, waiting for something to 
change, for the scene to get better. Was he going to Heaven now? Why did he — well, no, it's obvious
why he didn't go. Looking at Dean, he realized far too easily why he couldn't. He just.

He couldn't go.


Two weeks later, Dean is still a fucking zombie, and it's driving Sam crazy by proxy. He's still trying to
learn how to Swayze things, so the efforts have been... mildly unhelpful, despite his hopeful attempts.
He'd been trying to move anything, something, and it just wasn't working. The best he was good for
was making some rooms a little colder, sparingly. One time, he had tried to pick up a picture of him 
and Dean and Kevin and ended up dropping it and shattering it from the shelf; felt like a dick for
a while after that. Would've maybe even cried in frustration, if it were easier to physically cry like that,
as a spirit. Ah well. Small mercies.

He actually can't migrate through the whole house, though. He's strong enough to barely reach
Dean's room from the garage; what he's attached to, he's not 100% sure yet. He thinks he has an 
educated idea. A very heart-heavy, educated idea. He really misses the library, eating, being able
to lay in his bed and sleep everything off. He misses being in the big meeting room and just having
coffee after a run.

He spends a few days mourning, too. Because it's all fucked, now. 

All over a shitty ghost hunt.

For being a spirit, it sure feels like his chest physically hurts.
ramble_on: <lj user="bushyeyebrows"> (pic#6938274)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-11-28 07:22 am (UTC)(link)
He lost Sam on a completely, run-of-the-mill hunt.

It's too surreal, too impossible to take in, after everything they've been through. After Trials, and Lucifer, and Azazel's grand plan, and all of it. That he'd be taken down permanently by something so fucking mundane. It's the risk of the job, but they're better than that. They're stronger.

Dean can't really say what happened after Sam stopped breathing, blood everywhere in the Impala, on him, on Sam's body, but a couple of days after it happened, Dean found himself driving Baby in a daze, Sam's body still in the back seat. He lost time, but he kept moving, because he wasn't far from the Bunker.

When he turned up, it was Kevin who came out, who was talking about how he had been calling Dean over and over, because Garth had been in touch about a new hunt, and —

He realized he was looking at a very bloody Dean and no Sam.

Charlie and Kevin took care of the arrangements. Dean refused to give Sam a hunter's funeral. Didn't even want to bury Sam, but eventually had no choice, and, well, he climbed out of a grave once. Sam could do it, too. Dean didn't go to the little service that they held. He refused to let go. To give up possibilities. The Winchesters have cheated death time and time again; what's once more?

Cas had the Impala cleaned for Dean, because he knew that Dean wouldn't be able to do it himself — and the heavy smell of blood wasn't something that Dean should have to suffer. The upholstery remains stained, but when Cas mentioned getting it replaced or fixed, somehow, Dean refused.

The first place Dean goes is to a crossroads.

He doesn't want to go to Hell again, but he wants to know his options. Wants to know that if all else fails, he at least has that in his back pocket. He won't give up looking, but it will be comforting to know that in the end, there's something.

Except there isn't, because by now, no demon will deal with the Winchesters. Dean kills the crossroads demon and goes back to the bunker.

He contacts Death, but Death refuses to help. He's done a lot for Dean by now; enough is enough. Let Sam go in peace. Burn his body and say goodbye.

It doesn't occur to Dean that there's something, there, in between the lines, because he's too angry and mournful to think about any of that.

Dean goes back to the bunker, and spends days with very little sleep and food, pouring over research. He gets Kevin in on it too, but Kevin starts to look at Dean with worried glances, suggests that Dean maybe should take a break. Cas comes by, looking a mess himself — he lost someone, too; they all did — but trying to talk some sense into Dean. Dean tells all of them to fuck off.

They don't understand. This isn't something that Dean can walk away from. It's never been, and it never will be.

When a picture drops and breaks, Dean doesn't even think twice about it. Because he thinks Sam would move on, in the end. Sam's always leaving him, and Dean had seen enough of his conversation with Death, a while back, to think he knows what Sam wants. And it occurs to him, too, that he should probably just let Sam have it once and for all, but Dean can't. He can't accept that this is the end. Not now.

Not ever.

His coping skills have always been shit without Sam. His judgment goes out the window. And Sam is always, always the exception to every moral by which Dean has stood.

He gets a few leads and finally takes a four-hour nap before he hits the road. He grabs coffee and skips breakfast, so intent on moving, on making some kind of progress, that he just leaves with the cup in hand. Gets in the Impala, and starts driving to South Carolina. A long drive, so there will be a couple of motel visits on the way, but Dean plans on banking as many hours as he can.

Which is exactly what he does, even as his eyes start to sting and he has to rub them in an effort to keep them moist and functioning.
ramble_on: awakencordy @ LJ (pic#7032153)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-11-30 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
The car grows cold.

At first, Dean thinks maybe he started drifting, and he's on the tail-end of some kind of twisted dream meant to give him false hope. He jolts a little, sitting up straighter. It says cold, though, even as a surge of adrenaline kicks in. Dean checks the a/c, but it isn't running. He puts on the heat, but that chill still hangs.

He's a season hunter, so his gut reaction is ghost, and then, because his mind is fucked and wants to give him hope when he's steadily running out, he thinks Sam. But no — Dean tries to talk himself out of that possibility, because Sam would move on. He knows it, because he saw it himself — that conversation with Death. That willingness to go.

It might be something else. Something to do with the town he's passing through, a potential hunt. Either way, though, Dean isn't thinking clearly and he knows it. He needs to take a nap, and then reassess.

So that's what he does. Pulls into the next motel parking lot, gets a room for the night, parks right in front of it, and sets his phone alarm for four and a half hours. He hits the bed and is out almost immediately.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-01 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
Four and a half hours later, Dean's alarm goes off. He's pretty used to only getting a few hours of sleep, but with awareness comes the memory of what happened, and even though he's on a mission and he wants to fix this, wants to get Sam back, knowing that Sam is dead is too damn heavy to bear, half-asleep as he is. It's a moment of weakness, of thinking that this time, there is no way out. That Sam really is dead, thanks to a stupid run-of-the-mill hunt.

Dean stares at the empty bed next to him. Why'd he even get a double? Old habits die hard, but people die too easily. It's a fact of life with which Dean is too familiar by now.

He goes back to sleep for another couple of hours, then finally forces himself to get up, knowing that if he's in motion, he'll feel better. He sits up, focus once again on that bed.

"I should've just let you quit," he mumbles, to a Sam who isn't going to hear him, at this point, stuck as he is living out his happiest memories in Heaven. He should have let Sam have Amelia, or stay with Jess, or settle down and do something else after the angel and Abaddon situations were finally resolved. He shouldn't have reminded Sam of the work they had to do — shouldn't have put it on them both. As much as Dean wanted Sam to stay with him, to be a family with him, having him alive matters more than any of that.

He rubs his face, stands, and digs in his bag for clothes and toiletries. Then he heads into the bathroom, takes a shower until the water runs cold, and emerges feeling no better, but at least looking a little refreshed. More fit for society.

And then he just kind of stands there for a moment, debating what to do next. Last night, in the car, Dean had been pretty out of it. The chill he felt — it might have been nothing, and he really needs to get to South Carolina. But if he's wrong, and there's something here that needs to be hunted, maybe he should check it out. At least head to a diner and look at a newspaper to see if there's anything strange going on...

That's a good plan. Coffee and breakfast, so he can think clearly, and a newspaper go with it. Out loud, Dean murmurs, "Okay," as he comes to the decision, falling into an old habit that he had back when he was hunting alone.

Talking to himself, so that it's not so quiet. So that he doesn't have to fully accept that there's no one around to bounce ideas off, that no one is going to answer back.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-01 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
Dean gets on the road, oblivious to Sam, and drives to the nearest diner. The slight movement of his rear view mirror does catch his attention, and forces him to realize that there's something going on here. It can't be Sam, though — not only because he knows that Sam, in a way, was ready to move on, but also because if it is Sam, that means that Dean's next hunt is going to have to be a salt and burn.

And he can't do that. He knows he can't. Which means if Sam is hanging around as a ghost, Dean's going to have to suffer through him going vengeful, if he doesn't hurry up and find a way to bring him back.

Call it denial, but Dean, after sparing a glance to the passenger seat (where Sam should be right now; where he should always be, right beside Dean), he tries to put it out of his mind. Focuses on getting to the diner — he can address the rest of it after.

So he goes, orders a relatively small breakfast, thinks about what Sam would say about that, and eats a little, but mostly picks at his food, focusing instead on the newspaper and his coffee.

There's absolutely nothing in the paper to suggest weird happenings. No talk in the diner about anything that indicates witches or hauntings — which means whatever going on is completely related to Dean.

He finishes his coffee, forces down a couple more bites of his food, and then — the pepper shaker moves. Alright, so whatever it is that's causing all this crap is definitely attached to him, somehow. Which means he picked up a spirit somewhere or he has some sort of weird curse affecting him, and since he hasn't tangled with a witch in ages, it's got to be the former.

Dean pays and heads to the car. Gets in the driver's side, but doesn't make a move to start it. "You gonna show yourself or what?" The instinct to add a Sammy to the end of that question nearly bleeds through, and really, who the hell else would it be? But he can't do it, can't accept it as a possibility. Doesn't want it to be a reality — and yet wants it more than anything else.

It's screwed up, anyway he looks at it.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-01 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
There's no response, verbal or otherwise, but Dean feels the chill of something against his head. He knows something — someone — is there. Maybe it is Sam, and he's working on his ghost mojo. Maybe Dean picked something up. He should be searching for something to salt-and-burn, should be looking into this, but instead —

he drives.

He does it because despite his misgivings, despite his denial, despite everything — he knows there's only one person who would stay attached to Dean, in the end. And that's Sam.

Sam, who's always tried to leave him.

"Why?" he suddenly asks, even though he knows that he's not going to get an answer. "You never stayed before." It's easy to talk this way, to speak his mind when he thinks someone is listening, but when there's no physical presence there. As a hunter, he shouldn't be doing this, and as someone in mourning, Dean thinks he is probably going out of his mind. But as a brother, all Dean wants is Sam.

So he talks.

He's getting closer to South Carolina, and what he hopes will be some answers. He doesn't state that this is what he is doing out loud, because if it is Sam, he doesn't want instant disapproval the moment Sam learns how to go visible. But Sam knows him, so the secrecy is pointless.

It's just as much of him as it's always been. That hasn't changed.

A few hours pass. Dean skips lunch and talks to the no one that exists in his car with him. If Bobby were there — if Dad were there — hell, if Kevin were there, he'd be met with disapproval.

None of them are there, though, and Dean's always had shitty coping skills when Sam isn't around.

"Maybe if I blast my music you'll get mad enough to show up."
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617200)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-02 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
It is Sam. Dean is forced to confront that thought — come to terms with it, when the car reacts to his words — growing colder and the ejection of the tape.

It leaves Dean feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he still has Sam, in a way. But on the other, it's only a matter of time before he turns vengeful. All ghosts do. Which means Dean needs to beat the clock — get Sam back (really back), before he winds up vengeful, because Dean knows he isn't going to have it in him to get rid of Sam. Sam's always been his exception to every moral to which Dean has held. This is no different.

In a way, it helps to have something to talk to, something he can focus on, even if that something is a Sam who is very much dead. Dean doesn't talk the whole trip, but he makes occasional comments and observations, and even a joke here and there, trying to keep himself in a lighter mood than he has been. For Sam's sake — because Dean doesn't want him worrying, even as a ghost. Hell, that'd probably put him on the fast track to turning vengeful.

But it also hurts, and there are times that Dean lapses into a brooding silence, thinking about what needs to be done. Glancing at the seat beside him and realizing that it's empty, that even if Sam went visual, he wouldn't be solid and alive.

Eventually, Dean has to call it. He stops in Augusta, so that he'll be able to hit his destination the following day, no problem. He picks up some fast food and finds a motel. Before exiting the car, Dean says, "This is it for the night." He doesn't know what Sam's bound to, or how far he can go. Dean assumes it's the Impala, maybe because of the blood stains in the back, and parks close to the room for that reason. He then waits, briefly, before grabbing his stuff and climbing out of the car.
ramble_on: <lj user="bushyeyebrows"> (pic#6938267)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-03 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
Once in the room, Dean sets the food and his bag down. He's taking out the burger he ordered when he hears the slight creak of the bed, and glances over at it. Sees nothing at first, but as he moves closer, temporarily abandoning his burger on the table, he sees that it's dipping.

Sam's in the room with him. So he has a little bit of range. Dean's...glad he parked the Impala close. Even if there's something screwed up about wanting to spend the night with his brother, who's on a countdown toward going vengeful.

Dean takes a seat next to the dip. Stares ahead, though, since there's nothing to see beside him.

Then he hears Sam. It's low, almost too easy to just put off to the wind, but it's still the best thing that Dean has heard in days — since that night. He has to resist the desire to close his eyes and really just take it in for a moment — that Sam's here. That he can hear him. They can communicate.

He doesn't want to get too sappy, though. Especially because they're going to lose the honeymoon period before long.

"South Carolina," he answers, as though they're on a regular hunt, and Sam isn't a ghost. "We'll be there tomorrow."

The apology, though — no. Dean doesn't want to hear it. "Don't, man," he tells the space beside him. "Just — I don't wanna do that now." It's been rough. Too rough. He can't have that conversation, or he might lose the tight hold he has on himself — it's been keeping him together. It's all he has. That, and apparently, a ghost. He just needs to focus, and he can't — give in.

He stands, then, and goes to eat, hoping that Sam will just leave it. As much as Dean wants to keep listening to his voice, he doesn't want — that.
ramble_on: <lj user="tweak"> (pic#7098121)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-04 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Sam leaves.

Dean can feel it the moment he's out of the room. Part of him thinks that even if the bed hadn't lost its dip and the room hadn't warmed up, he still would have known. It probably isn't true, though — he hadn't even been able to realize that Sam was hanging around for the past few days. He doesn't turn. Instead, he focuses on his food. Tries to eat, but can't really bring himself to stomach all of it. Once upon a time, he had a great appetite. Too much of one, really.

Now Sam's dead, and Dean's just going through the motions until he can finally fix this.

He waits for Sam to come back, but he doesn't. The I'm sorry is hanging in the air. Dean told him not to do that shit. It fucks with his head, makes it all the more difficult — and now Sam is probably out there brooding and taking steps closer to being vengeful.

Fuck it. He leaves his mostly uneaten burger, takes a shower, and then goes to sleep. It isn't like Sam's around to talk to, now.

Of course, it all just starts all over again when he wakes up. Dean packs up quickly, checks out, and now joins his visible brother in the car.

It's...not good to see him. It should be, but he looks like a ghost, and the image of him is still marred like Dean remembers. He remembers trying to hold the wound, keep Sam's insides where they should be. He remembers telling him he'd fix it, making promises he couldn't keep.

Dean gets in the car, but can't bring himself to keep looking at Sam. He leans back and closes his eyes, expression pained. "It's my fault."

All of it. Sam's death — if only Dean had been quicker — and the fact that no demon will deal with him this go-around. The fact that Sam is still there at all, tethered to him and the Impala. This is on Dean, only he doesn't know that he has a chance to fix it this time. South Carolina is his one hope.

It's that, or a salt-and-burn he'll never be able to bring himself to do.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-06 09:29 am (UTC)(link)
It doesn't help to lighten his mood. Not at all. Dean feels like the burden is on him. Years of making Sam stay in the job, and then not getting to him in time. Not being able to help, and closing all avenues that they could have used to get him back...It's his fault, regardless of whether Sam sees it that way.

What does help is Sam getting on his case. That irritates him, because like hell he's just going to let Sam stay dead. And feeling irritated is better than feeling that pit of grief in his stomach, so he latches onto it.

"I'm gonna do what I gotta do."

And that means Sam's going with him, no matter what he thinks about that. He has no choice.

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, grateful that he can't see Sam when he looks in his rear view mirror. He can picture his face, and that's enough right now.
Edited 2013-12-06 09:29 (UTC)
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617238)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-07 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
Dean cringes. Less because he's getting chastised by Sam — because it isn't like hearing words like that from Sam is anything new, especially before his death — but because this is how Sam's going to get on the fast-track to vengeful.

Because of Dean, of course. Since that's the theme here.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Sit tight, perfectly fine with the fact that you're a ghost and if I don't salt-and-burn you, someone else is gonna come around to do it for me?"

Dean is driving to South Carolina regardless of Sam's protests. He'll park far away from his destination so he can't follow and bitch about what he's doing.

"It ain't gonna cost a thing if I get my way."
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617136)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-09 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
Dean is silent for a few minutes. He focuses on driving. It's a little easier to ignore Sam than it's ever been when he can't see him. He makes a turn, sighs quietly, and then finally answers, "I can't do this, Sam. Not again."

He's already tried it. Living without Sam. Moving on, trying to be healthy, trying to make it work. Failed attempts. Dean comes to pieces when Sam isn't around, isn't healthy, isn't alive. He can't let him go, and he knows Sam knows that. He can't cope.

Then, he qualifies the statement with, "I'm just gonna talk to some people. That's all."
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6695886)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-11 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
He can't. There was no chance even before he realized Sam was a ghost, but now that he's going to go vengeful one day, it's that or put Sam out himself. And Dean knows he could never do that. He isn't planning on answering, though it hurts to hear Sam like that — to hear him at all — but then he gets control of the vehicle and makes him pull over.

Dean sits, tense, not looking up in the rear view mirror. "You see what you're doing, Sammy?" he asks after a long moment of silence. "You're getting closer to vengeful already." This is exactly how it's going to happen. Sam getting annoyed, determined, and before long, lashing out. "And you're gonna send Baby crashing before I can ever salt and burn you." It's spoken as matter-of-factly as possible, but the weight of grief is in his tone.

"The more we do this, the sooner it'll happen."
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617274)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-18 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
"You don't think Bobby thought he could fight being vengeful?" Dean asks, following Sam's train of thought. "It ain't something you can promise, Sam, and you know it. You're already threatening to take control of things you shouldn't even be able to use."

You're already getting there.

"You turn the car around and I'll take a bus. You and I both know it ain't me you're bound to."

He shakes his head, though, and decides to relent a little, if only to try and delay the inevitable. "There's a shaman that can raise souls." Maybe. It's debatable if she's actually worth anything. Dean's trying to find out.

"Now are you gonna let me drive or are you and Baby gonna sit here and throw a tantrum...without me?"
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617237)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-20 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Dean drives in silence. He doesn't try and talk to Sam again, not after that conversation. Instead, he focuses on getting to his destination.

The house looks normal. It's in a subdivision, and when Dean pulls up, there are kids playing outside, pets in yards — nothing like he would expect from a shaman that's renowned in some darker circles. He knocks on the door, and the woman who answers is a soccer mom to the core — blond hair tied up on a ponytail, a minivan out front, pictures of her kids in the hall. She smiles and glances down at his jacket, smile faltering slightly, then looks back up at him.

"You're lucky," she tells him, gesturing him to come inside. "My daughters are at dance."

"You know what I'm here for?" he asks.

She rolls her eyes. "Please. I know a desperate hunter when I see one." A pause as she looks him up and down unabashedly. "Usually when one of you comes around armed, it means I'm going to be threatened."

"I'm not here on the job," he assures her.

"Oh I know. You have a ghost problem. Besides," she flashes him a smile. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of a hunter problem."
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-22 09:38 am (UTC)(link)
Dean hadn't expected Sam to be right there with him, but he should have figured they weren't far enough away from the car. He should have parked down the block to make sure this didn't happen, because he knew Sam would get involved if he could.

"We're fixing this," he tells Sam firmly, and he's perfectly willing to do his best to ignore his presence if Sam has any protests. "We've got to." Then, facing the woman, he asks, "Can you?" He isn't at all put off by her big talk about hunters. Dean has money, he's willing to pay, and his research on the woman hasn't turned up anything too risky. It isn't smiled upon, the whole calling-upon-the-dead and making things happen aspect of her work, but it isn't always harmful.

And Dean's never been one to turn away from his options, if it's for Sam.

"I could, but it sounds like your friend doesn't want me to." She smiles, a little too sweetly and easily for someone who's facing a bloody ghost and the guy who wants to bring him back.

"My magic isn't the same as a crossroads deal, though. You should know that."

Word gets around.
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617136)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-26 09:39 am (UTC)(link)
"There's no such thing as flawless. But if anyone has a chance of getting you back, it's me." She's watching the both of them with mild interest.

"Sam." Dean isn't going to let Sam interfere with his own well-being. This is as much for him as it is for Dean. "I'm getting you back." He doesn't care if it goes sideways. They'll handle it. They always do.

The important part is getting Sam back.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2013-12-31 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
Dean looks back at Sam, meeting that pleading stare, even though it's becoming more and more difficult to do so. The comment that comes with it stings, and Dean would flinch if he weren't trying to stay strong for two people — himself and Sam.

He steels himself and looks back at the woman, who's watching him with raised eyebrows and amusement crinkling her features. "We're doing it." He can't just let Sam go.

The woman — who still hasn't given Dean a name, but it's less complicated that way — starts setting up and barks directions at Dean. Burns some sage, which makes Dean feel a little lightheaded, starts setting up ingredients.

Eventually, after setting up bowls and components, the woman looks at him and points to his jacket.

"We need that," she tells him. Dean looks down, looks back up with a skeptical expression, and she raises her eyebrows. "Your pocket."

He slips his hand in it, and comes out with the amulet.

The amulet. That Sam gave him, years and years ago. And that Dean had chucked away after losing his faith — in the last-ditch effort of hope, in himself, and in Sam.

If it's in his pocket, it means that Sam kept it all these years. And if she needs it — then this must be to what Sam is bound. Dean looks down at it, frowning a little, and remembering that moment when Sam gave it to him. When Sam still had so much faith in him, looked up to him, trusted him.

It takes a long moment, the woman muttering about Dean taking his sweet time when her kids are going to be home before long, and Dean moving his fingers over the amulet.

"Forget it," he finally says, voice still a little unsure, because this is huge. This is Dean walking away from his only chance to save Sam, something he's never before been able to do. It takes effort, and he sure as hell wants to go back on it and just do something to have Sam back. He'll go vengeful — all ghosts do; even Bobby did.

But if that happens, they'll face it together. Even if Dean knows he won't be able to salt and burn Sam, they'll figure something out.

Of course, with the decision comes a sense of despair, because Sam is dead. Really dead.

But Dean will have to deal with that later.

"Forget it," he repeats, stronger this time. The sent of sage is strong in the air, and Dean feels a little disjointed because of it, but steps back and moves to go up the stairs.

"You can't just tell me to forget it," the woman calls after him, coming up behind him and grabbing his arm to turn him around. "I've set all of this up. This —" she gestures. "Costs money. I have to clean it all back up. You've wasted my time. You can't just leave."

Dean shuffles in his pocket, takes out the wad of cash he brought to do the ritual, and sets it on the small table by the stairs, next to a bowl that looks suspiciously like blood (Dean hadn't asked any questions). "There. We're even."

Then he slips the amulet around his neck, tucking it safely under his shirt, and heads back upstairs.
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[personal profile] ramble_on 2014-01-08 10:29 am (UTC)(link)
Facing Sam, it's harder to remain resolute, and it shows in the way Dean looks at him. Like all the hope just got sucked out of the world. Like he's the one who has signed Sam's death sentence and that this is now his fault.

"She's annoyed," he finally settles on saying, shrugging back toward the house. It isn't even remotely close to anything he could or should say. Sam touches him, and Dean closes his eyes for a moment, collecting himself again.

It almost feels real.

"C'mon." He heads back to the car, pulling away from that too-warm sensation on his shoulder.

He has no idea where they should go next, or what he should do. This was his endgame.
ramble_on: boomsticked (pic#6617136)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2014-01-13 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Dean gets in the driver's seat, hands on the steering wheel. He doesn't want to look at Sam, but when he finally does, he sees that Sam looks better. It doesn't change the fact that the weight of Sam's death settles on him as he starts the car and begins to drive, with no real purpose or destination in mind.

"You," he answers simply. Then, after a brief moment, he palms his chest, indicating the amulet that's hidden under his shirt. "This."

A symbol of Sam's belief in him. It reminded him of when he tossed it away — a symbolic moment, but the memory of which leading into the time when he was about to say yes to Michael. Of Sam letting him go and having faith in him even when Dean was ready to just give up. Of being kids, with Sam looking up to him. Of everything they've been through.

Dean lets his hand drop, eyes still on the road.

It feels like the right decision, and Sam looking better reinforces that idea — but Dean still feels like shit. Sick at the idea of Sam never coming back — not like he should. Even sicker when he thinks about Sam going vengeful.

"I just didn't want to let you down."
ramble_on: <lj user="bushyeyebrows"> (pic#6938247)

[personal profile] ramble_on 2014-01-23 07:03 am (UTC)(link)
"I shouldn't have tossed it. I just —" But he doesn't finish that statement. Sam knows how close he was to giving up. How he was going to say yes. How everything was imploding and Dean couldn't take it anymore.

At the end, though, he hadn't wanted to let Sam down then either.

"I don't know if I can do this," he confesses openly. It seems stupid, that he's always held everything he has wanted to say to his chest, leaving Sam out of so much all these years. It's an old habit to break, but he needs Sam to understand. "If you — if something happens, I'm not gonna keep going."

It isn't in him. He's told Sam that before, and even though he pulled out of bringing him back, it's still true.