What Is and What Should Never Be, Coda
This is part of a larger fic I'm working on (that I have no business starting, btw, because I still have sevenfists's Evil!Sam fic to write dammit) that I realized could pretty much stand on its own.
Fly, little fic, fly!
Wishing.
Sam/Dean.
Teen.
Sam watches Dean sleep.
Dean’s never really told him anything more about that happy, imperfect world where Mom was alive and he and Jess were together. In a lot of ways, it’s a relief. Sam knows there’s not much use in wishing for what could be. After all, he spent the first seventeen years of his life wishing for something else, for anywhere but here.
So it strikes him as really fucking ironic that Dean-Dad’s perfect little soldier Dean-was the one who got to see the world the way it would be with no hunting and no demon.
On the other hand, Sam can only be grateful that it was Dean. He knows himself well enough to admit that a world with Mom and Jess and Dean-even an estranged Dean- would be too tempting to resist at all.
Or it might have been. Last year, maybe. But now…
Sam watches the way Dean’s eyes flicker under his lids and thinks back to all the pretty words he told his brother to make him feel better. To get that sad, sad look in Dean’s eyes to go away. To keep Dean with him. He had more, but they weren’t pretty, and he doesn't think his brother would have wanted to hear them:
You can’t leave me behind.
I need you, even if it looks like you don’t need me anymore.
Please, please, don’t say that it isn’t worth it, that I’m not worth it.
Sam wonders what Dean’s dreaming of. If he sees a cozy living room with flowers on the walls and an afghan covered sofa. A pretty brunette.
Sam pushes his forehead to his brother’s and thinks, dream of me instead.
Fly, little fic, fly!
Wishing.
Sam/Dean.
Teen.
Sam watches Dean sleep.
Dean’s never really told him anything more about that happy, imperfect world where Mom was alive and he and Jess were together. In a lot of ways, it’s a relief. Sam knows there’s not much use in wishing for what could be. After all, he spent the first seventeen years of his life wishing for something else, for anywhere but here.
So it strikes him as really fucking ironic that Dean-Dad’s perfect little soldier Dean-was the one who got to see the world the way it would be with no hunting and no demon.
On the other hand, Sam can only be grateful that it was Dean. He knows himself well enough to admit that a world with Mom and Jess and Dean-even an estranged Dean- would be too tempting to resist at all.
Or it might have been. Last year, maybe. But now…
Sam watches the way Dean’s eyes flicker under his lids and thinks back to all the pretty words he told his brother to make him feel better. To get that sad, sad look in Dean’s eyes to go away. To keep Dean with him. He had more, but they weren’t pretty, and he doesn't think his brother would have wanted to hear them:
You can’t leave me behind.
I need you, even if it looks like you don’t need me anymore.
Please, please, don’t say that it isn’t worth it, that I’m not worth it.
Sam wonders what Dean’s dreaming of. If he sees a cozy living room with flowers on the walls and an afghan covered sofa. A pretty brunette.
Sam pushes his forehead to his brother’s and thinks, dream of me instead.