Do You Love Me Enough?
The thing is Sam doesn’t want this power, he doesn’t even like it. In fact, he hates it, but maybe, just maybe, there’s a bit of good with it too. Maybe. He hopes. He’s got Ruby to work out how this demon stuff works but having Ruby is sort of like having the wind. He can’t trust it (her) and it (she) just slips through his fingers when he needs someone, anyone, anything the most and its just as likely to knock him down and blow him to the next county in tiny bite size bits if he’s not careful. Alone and desperate, all he can think of night, and day, is he wants Dean back. He wants his brother.
For years Sam bucked against being Dean’s kid brother, against his overbearing protectiveness. The second it was gone Sam missed it, and its loss left a huge empty hole inside that nothing filled up. If he couldn’t be Dean’s little brother, Sam couldn’t be anything.
He wanted it back. He wanted Dean back. He didn’t want Ruby, but she was a means to an end, to set Dean’s soul free. There wasn’t anything Sam wouldn’t do; he understood that what he did might not have been right. He wasn’t the righteous man Hell wanted. Sam was no Dean Winchester. So Sam did what he could and every second in the back of his mind was one thought; if he wanted it enough, if he loved Dean enough, Dean would come back.
One day he walks out of the shower greeted not by Ruby, but a soft, deep voice that hits Sam hard. It was home and Sam wanted it back so badly and there it was.
“Hey, Sammy.” Clear hazel eyes begged him to believe.
Sam didn’t, not at first, but after he got done freaking out over Dean being back he had another, silent freak out over the fact that Dean and Ruby stood looking each other in the eye and talking and…please don’t see it, please don’t see it. Sam didn’t know how it was possible, but Dean, who could sniff out every spook, specter, zombie or demon in a five mile radius, didn’t see Ruby for what she was, didn’t see the demon in the girl.
Dean’s back. The only thing to Sam that is real and tangible is his brother’s broad shoulders and familiar form at every turn. He’s cocky and horny and a little too interested in the fact that he’s got no more scars and rehymenated?…yeah Sam’s not going there…but he’s not Dean. Sam wants Dean back. Sam wants his big brother. There’s an angel with cryptic messages, he seems to get the real Dean, the one who calls angels dicks.
Maybe, maybe there is something to this, if Sam just thinks on it hard enough.
It was bound to happen. Sam knew it would, who the heck was he kidding anyway thinking he’d be able to keep this thing a secret from Dean? Because Dean is back, and he’s not the same guy; but he’s not an idiot and he’s still the person who knows Sam better than anyone. He’s the only person who ever really knew Sam. So Sam wasn’t too surprised that Dean found out or was pissed beyond pissed or that he spotted the lies and half truths right away.
“If I didn’t know you, I’d want to hunt you,” Dean spat.
Sam expected it, but it still cut deep, and he barely made an effort to stop the tears. The only thing he could think, even as he cut Dean’s words off on a roadside when Dean tried to say he didn’t think Sam was a freak was don’t hate me, don’t think I’m a freak or a monster. Love me enough to be my brother.
Dean calmed down and Sam got somewhat of a grip until Dean screamed at a cat. A freaking cat for God’s sake. Dean Winchester did not scream at cats, they screamed at him. As did every demon, specter, spook and zombie in a five mile radius. All Sam could think was he needed to know what happened to Dean in Hell. Sam wasn’t the only guy in the Impala keeping secrets and telling half truths.
If Sam just thinks hard enough on it, Dean—his Dean (the real Dean)—will come back and be his big brother, tell Sam everything and move on. Because that’s what the real Dean would do, not this Dean. Does he, Sam wonders and really hopes, love me enough to come back, to be my big brother again? Sam’s noticed how Dean doesn’t scoop him off the ground when some nasty runs Sam right over. Sometimes he grunts out a, “You okay?” nothing more, and he’s barely Sammy anymore. Sam wants to be Sammy, he concentrates hard willing Dean to be overbearing and overprotective, scoop him off the ground and call him Sammy.
Sam thinks about it all the time and tries really hard, if he concentrates enough Dean will really come back and then maybe Sam can come back too. He doesn’t like this Sam, the Sam he’s become, and if he can get his big brother back, maybe then Sam can come back too.
Even as he confesses his worst moment to the only person he can tell, Sam silently begs, don’t hate me, do you love me enough to understand I was desperate and broken and so very alone? Maybe there is more to this psychic stuff than he first thought because Dean doesn’t beat the crap out of him, he doesn’t rant and rave. Sam slept with a demon-possessed woman, and Dean doesn’t hate him.
So that gives Sam an idea.
Maybe, just maybe if he thinks on it hard enough he can get his big brother back.
Finding himself back at a school they’d gone to for maybe a month, Sam starts to think maybe he can do this, maybe he can get Dean to do this, to come back and be Dean again. “I’ll rip its lungs out.” That’s what Dean says as he hands Sam a bottle of whiskey for his too-swollen balls. Sam clutches to those words, clings to them like they’re some kind of life preserver. Peeking out of this Dean is his big brother. Like some tiny split in the fabric that makes the man Dean Winchester splits apart and some of the bright and shining light that is the real Dean worms its way out, flickering and flowing over Sam.
That one little sentence is better than ten I Love You’s put together.
Sam doesn’t want this power, if any one deserves a superpower it’s Dean. He’s Batman and Superman and Aquaman all rolled into one. He’d know what to do and how to use it, Dean wouldn’t let it take over or become bigger than he is. Sam tells some kid on a bus, “I’m not evil, I’m not.” If he concentrates hard enough on it, can he get Dean to see that, too?
Dean doesn’t call him on it so maybe, just maybe Sam’s psychic thing is working. Even just a little.
He doesn’t mean the things the siren makes him say, not really. A tiny part of him, way in the back of his mind hopes, wishes, wants Dean to beat the snot out of him because Dean, the real Dean, Sam’s big brother would never have let what happened happen, and Sam would never be able to one up him. He tells Dean, over and over, he didn’t mean those words. Sam thinks and concentrates and stares when Dean isn’t watching trying to bore it into the back of his skull, but he’s not sure.
Maybe, just maybe Dean loves him enough and if Sam loves Dean enough they can get beyond those harshly spoken, only half true words.
Sam hates, hates that he has to go to Ruby again for help, for that extra boost. He doesn’t want it and can’t go on without it all at once. She gives him what he needs--wants—and he finds Dean, almost too late. Sam hopes and concentrates because the Dean before, his big brother, would have filleted Alistair and roasted him on a stick. At first Sam thinks Dean was beaten, but when he takes a look around and sees, really sees what Dean used, his imagination filling in the rest Sam thinks maybe he was wrong. Maybe hiding in there somewhere is the real Dean, his big brother, his guardian, his home.
He wills Dean to get better. He demands that Castiel make Dean better, he shouts it loud and thinks it louder. Cas says no can do, but Dean wakes up and maybe he’s not better but he’s not dead. Sam is definitely onto something, there is more to his psychic ability than slaughtering demons. There is more. There has to be more. Sam can do this, he can.
Seriously, Smith and Wesson? Anyway Sam looks at it, Winchester is way cooler, not to mention tougher, but the entire time Sam Wesson dreams of this Dean Smith dude, not the one wearing a suit and tie who is cleansing his colon. The Dean in his dreams is tough and smart and never ever lets the bad guy get away. He strikes like a viper only twice as deadly and three times as fast.
The Dean in his dreams is more like a big brother, not some guy worried about health coverage. When Sam figures out he’s a Winchester, not some wussy other kind of gun he finds the Impala, he wants to go home, he wants his big brother back. He hopes and concentrates and maybe the angels hear him, maybe they don’t but it doesn’t matter because it’s Dean who comes back kicking tires and cussing, grumbling, “Get your ass in the car, Sammy.”
Sam hopes and concentrates, he wants his big brother back and for the first time in a long time, Sam thinks he might just get what he wants.
When they meet some dweeb by the name of Chuck, and honestly brooding and pensive shoulders?…yeah right, but it gives Sam hope because that’s Dean, pure one hundred percent unadulterated Dean. It’s Ruby who tells Sam later how Dean refused to stop an apocalypse if he didn’t get help stopping Lilith from taking Sam apart and making him into tiny bite size pieces. Sam thought he could trick her, he wants that bitch’s head smashed and bloody. Dean had been right he--they—weren’t ready for her. It’s Sam’s big brother who bursts in and makes Heaven chase away the demon. That’sSam’s big brother, the one he wants back so Sam can come back.
The small split allowing the bright lights that are Dean slip through, grow larger and glimmer brighter. Sam is shoved into a corner with Dean and his gun standing sentry, the viper ready to strike when some kid who claims to be their brother, Sam’s little brother, meets them in a diner. Sam can do the big brother thing, he learned from the best after all. Dean is angry and hurt, Sam gets that. The glimmer gets brighter when every time Dean opens his mouth, Sam is Sammy. If he can just think hard enough, do you love me enough to still be my big brother?
He gets tied to a table, and really what sort of people have a dining room table big enough to fit Sam? Dean, the real Dean, the guy who is Sam’s big brother and sticks a hand out and taps his chest before they cross the street shows up and he’s pissed. Ghouls have little chance against Dean. The only thing Sam can think as his blood is dripping into a bowl at an alarming rate is his brother got there in time. Sam isn’t Sam or Sammy, Dean calls him buddy and rubs his back. It lasts no more than a few minutes, but Sam is starting to think if he keeps concentrating more will come.
Maybe Sam can go home.
This thing is always in the way and what Sam has become he can’t hide anymore. Ruby is nowhere to be seen and his tiny flask of demon blood has been drained dry. Dean sees it; he has to, even mentions the changes in Sam of late. Dean may not know specifics but he knows there is something up. Sam’s big brother is back and all Sam can think is do you love me enough to be my brother and help me? He concentrates every waking minute, thinking, don’t hate me, I’m not a monster, be my big brother, help me.
The real Dean seems to slink away, and this one in the car with him when Bobby calls demanding they hurry, this Dean doesn’t even seem to care. Sam is sure that’s not so, so he thinks hard, a steady litany in his head, love me enough to see your brother in this monster, can you love me enough?
“What’s the demon problem?” Sam turns and asks, wondering why Dean and Bobby hang back.
“You.”
Before he can move, a metal door slams shut and he’s left alone and afraid able to do nothing more than call to them.
In his head, a voice pleads please love me enough to see us both through this. Sam needs his big brother, can you, do you love me enough to do what is needed?
The clank of metal on metal as the door is locked shut and the peephole closed gives him his answer. Yes.
The End
The thing is Sam doesn’t want this power, he doesn’t even like it. In fact, he hates it, but maybe, just maybe, there’s a bit of good with it too. Maybe. He hopes. He’s got Ruby to work out how this demon stuff works but having Ruby is sort of like having the wind. He can’t trust it (her) and it (she) just slips through his fingers when he needs someone, anyone, anything the most and its just as likely to knock him down and blow him to the next county in tiny bite size bits if he’s not careful. Alone and desperate, all he can think of night, and day, is he wants Dean back. He wants his brother.
For years Sam bucked against being Dean’s kid brother, against his overbearing protectiveness. The second it was gone Sam missed it, and its loss left a huge empty hole inside that nothing filled up. If he couldn’t be Dean’s little brother, Sam couldn’t be anything.
He wanted it back. He wanted Dean back. He didn’t want Ruby, but she was a means to an end, to set Dean’s soul free. There wasn’t anything Sam wouldn’t do; he understood that what he did might not have been right. He wasn’t the righteous man Hell wanted. Sam was no Dean Winchester. So Sam did what he could and every second in the back of his mind was one thought; if he wanted it enough, if he loved Dean enough, Dean would come back.
One day he walks out of the shower greeted not by Ruby, but a soft, deep voice that hits Sam hard. It was home and Sam wanted it back so badly and there it was.
“Hey, Sammy.” Clear hazel eyes begged him to believe.
Sam didn’t, not at first, but after he got done freaking out over Dean being back he had another, silent freak out over the fact that Dean and Ruby stood looking each other in the eye and talking and…please don’t see it, please don’t see it. Sam didn’t know how it was possible, but Dean, who could sniff out every spook, specter, zombie or demon in a five mile radius, didn’t see Ruby for what she was, didn’t see the demon in the girl.
Dean’s back. The only thing to Sam that is real and tangible is his brother’s broad shoulders and familiar form at every turn. He’s cocky and horny and a little too interested in the fact that he’s got no more scars and rehymenated?…yeah Sam’s not going there…but he’s not Dean. Sam wants Dean back. Sam wants his big brother. There’s an angel with cryptic messages, he seems to get the real Dean, the one who calls angels dicks.
Maybe, maybe there is something to this, if Sam just thinks on it hard enough.
It was bound to happen. Sam knew it would, who the heck was he kidding anyway thinking he’d be able to keep this thing a secret from Dean? Because Dean is back, and he’s not the same guy; but he’s not an idiot and he’s still the person who knows Sam better than anyone. He’s the only person who ever really knew Sam. So Sam wasn’t too surprised that Dean found out or was pissed beyond pissed or that he spotted the lies and half truths right away.
“If I didn’t know you, I’d want to hunt you,” Dean spat.
Sam expected it, but it still cut deep, and he barely made an effort to stop the tears. The only thing he could think, even as he cut Dean’s words off on a roadside when Dean tried to say he didn’t think Sam was a freak was don’t hate me, don’t think I’m a freak or a monster. Love me enough to be my brother.
Dean calmed down and Sam got somewhat of a grip until Dean screamed at a cat. A freaking cat for God’s sake. Dean Winchester did not scream at cats, they screamed at him. As did every demon, specter, spook and zombie in a five mile radius. All Sam could think was he needed to know what happened to Dean in Hell. Sam wasn’t the only guy in the Impala keeping secrets and telling half truths.
If Sam just thinks hard enough on it, Dean—his Dean (the real Dean)—will come back and be his big brother, tell Sam everything and move on. Because that’s what the real Dean would do, not this Dean. Does he, Sam wonders and really hopes, love me enough to come back, to be my big brother again? Sam’s noticed how Dean doesn’t scoop him off the ground when some nasty runs Sam right over. Sometimes he grunts out a, “You okay?” nothing more, and he’s barely Sammy anymore. Sam wants to be Sammy, he concentrates hard willing Dean to be overbearing and overprotective, scoop him off the ground and call him Sammy.
Sam thinks about it all the time and tries really hard, if he concentrates enough Dean will really come back and then maybe Sam can come back too. He doesn’t like this Sam, the Sam he’s become, and if he can get his big brother back, maybe then Sam can come back too.
Even as he confesses his worst moment to the only person he can tell, Sam silently begs, don’t hate me, do you love me enough to understand I was desperate and broken and so very alone? Maybe there is more to this psychic stuff than he first thought because Dean doesn’t beat the crap out of him, he doesn’t rant and rave. Sam slept with a demon-possessed woman, and Dean doesn’t hate him.
So that gives Sam an idea.
Maybe, just maybe if he thinks on it hard enough he can get his big brother back.
Finding himself back at a school they’d gone to for maybe a month, Sam starts to think maybe he can do this, maybe he can get Dean to do this, to come back and be Dean again. “I’ll rip its lungs out.” That’s what Dean says as he hands Sam a bottle of whiskey for his too-swollen balls. Sam clutches to those words, clings to them like they’re some kind of life preserver. Peeking out of this Dean is his big brother. Like some tiny split in the fabric that makes the man Dean Winchester splits apart and some of the bright and shining light that is the real Dean worms its way out, flickering and flowing over Sam.
That one little sentence is better than ten I Love You’s put together.
Sam doesn’t want this power, if any one deserves a superpower it’s Dean. He’s Batman and Superman and Aquaman all rolled into one. He’d know what to do and how to use it, Dean wouldn’t let it take over or become bigger than he is. Sam tells some kid on a bus, “I’m not evil, I’m not.” If he concentrates hard enough on it, can he get Dean to see that, too?
Dean doesn’t call him on it so maybe, just maybe Sam’s psychic thing is working. Even just a little.
He doesn’t mean the things the siren makes him say, not really. A tiny part of him, way in the back of his mind hopes, wishes, wants Dean to beat the snot out of him because Dean, the real Dean, Sam’s big brother would never have let what happened happen, and Sam would never be able to one up him. He tells Dean, over and over, he didn’t mean those words. Sam thinks and concentrates and stares when Dean isn’t watching trying to bore it into the back of his skull, but he’s not sure.
Maybe, just maybe Dean loves him enough and if Sam loves Dean enough they can get beyond those harshly spoken, only half true words.
Sam hates, hates that he has to go to Ruby again for help, for that extra boost. He doesn’t want it and can’t go on without it all at once. She gives him what he needs--wants—and he finds Dean, almost too late. Sam hopes and concentrates because the Dean before, his big brother, would have filleted Alistair and roasted him on a stick. At first Sam thinks Dean was beaten, but when he takes a look around and sees, really sees what Dean used, his imagination filling in the rest Sam thinks maybe he was wrong. Maybe hiding in there somewhere is the real Dean, his big brother, his guardian, his home.
He wills Dean to get better. He demands that Castiel make Dean better, he shouts it loud and thinks it louder. Cas says no can do, but Dean wakes up and maybe he’s not better but he’s not dead. Sam is definitely onto something, there is more to his psychic ability than slaughtering demons. There is more. There has to be more. Sam can do this, he can.
Seriously, Smith and Wesson? Anyway Sam looks at it, Winchester is way cooler, not to mention tougher, but the entire time Sam Wesson dreams of this Dean Smith dude, not the one wearing a suit and tie who is cleansing his colon. The Dean in his dreams is tough and smart and never ever lets the bad guy get away. He strikes like a viper only twice as deadly and three times as fast.
The Dean in his dreams is more like a big brother, not some guy worried about health coverage. When Sam figures out he’s a Winchester, not some wussy other kind of gun he finds the Impala, he wants to go home, he wants his big brother back. He hopes and concentrates and maybe the angels hear him, maybe they don’t but it doesn’t matter because it’s Dean who comes back kicking tires and cussing, grumbling, “Get your ass in the car, Sammy.”
Sam hopes and concentrates, he wants his big brother back and for the first time in a long time, Sam thinks he might just get what he wants.
When they meet some dweeb by the name of Chuck, and honestly brooding and pensive shoulders?…yeah right, but it gives Sam hope because that’s Dean, pure one hundred percent unadulterated Dean. It’s Ruby who tells Sam later how Dean refused to stop an apocalypse if he didn’t get help stopping Lilith from taking Sam apart and making him into tiny bite size pieces. Sam thought he could trick her, he wants that bitch’s head smashed and bloody. Dean had been right he--they—weren’t ready for her. It’s Sam’s big brother who bursts in and makes Heaven chase away the demon. That’sSam’s big brother, the one he wants back so Sam can come back.
The small split allowing the bright lights that are Dean slip through, grow larger and glimmer brighter. Sam is shoved into a corner with Dean and his gun standing sentry, the viper ready to strike when some kid who claims to be their brother, Sam’s little brother, meets them in a diner. Sam can do the big brother thing, he learned from the best after all. Dean is angry and hurt, Sam gets that. The glimmer gets brighter when every time Dean opens his mouth, Sam is Sammy. If he can just think hard enough, do you love me enough to still be my big brother?
He gets tied to a table, and really what sort of people have a dining room table big enough to fit Sam? Dean, the real Dean, the guy who is Sam’s big brother and sticks a hand out and taps his chest before they cross the street shows up and he’s pissed. Ghouls have little chance against Dean. The only thing Sam can think as his blood is dripping into a bowl at an alarming rate is his brother got there in time. Sam isn’t Sam or Sammy, Dean calls him buddy and rubs his back. It lasts no more than a few minutes, but Sam is starting to think if he keeps concentrating more will come.
Maybe Sam can go home.
This thing is always in the way and what Sam has become he can’t hide anymore. Ruby is nowhere to be seen and his tiny flask of demon blood has been drained dry. Dean sees it; he has to, even mentions the changes in Sam of late. Dean may not know specifics but he knows there is something up. Sam’s big brother is back and all Sam can think is do you love me enough to be my brother and help me? He concentrates every waking minute, thinking, don’t hate me, I’m not a monster, be my big brother, help me.
The real Dean seems to slink away, and this one in the car with him when Bobby calls demanding they hurry, this Dean doesn’t even seem to care. Sam is sure that’s not so, so he thinks hard, a steady litany in his head, love me enough to see your brother in this monster, can you love me enough?
“What’s the demon problem?” Sam turns and asks, wondering why Dean and Bobby hang back.
“You.”
Before he can move, a metal door slams shut and he’s left alone and afraid able to do nothing more than call to them.
In his head, a voice pleads please love me enough to see us both through this. Sam needs his big brother, can you, do you love me enough to do what is needed?
The clank of metal on metal as the door is locked shut and the peephole closed gives him his answer. Yes.
The End