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Ten Years Gone

Title: Ten Years Gone
Rating: PG
Summary: Ten years after the show starts. Some things we don't get over - even when they are ten years gone.
Characters: Dean, Sam an OC and a kid (his name is John)
Disclaimer: the Winchesters aren't mine (if they were I woudl know how I was paying my co-pay this week)
A/N: Um- if you don't know the song Ten years gone shame on you. Also I used the normal naming patterns of my family (so Mare is named Mary-Elizabeth), there is a lot of my ex in this (as well as my husband). I'm thinking of posting this at the SN but am totly unsure of that. Love to know what you think of it. For some reason I've also started at the begining of the Kate/Sam story

It’s not raining, but the smell of rain is hanging heavily in the air. Cows are fed and milked and it’s time for supper, in the house across the lane from my house my sister and her husband are probably already cleaning up the supper dishes. The weather fits my mood as I enter my house. I pull off my mucky boots in the mudroom. I wash my face and hands and step out into the kitchen where my husband and son are already eating. Sam looks up at me and gestures to our son, John, with his fork.

“Kate, do you know what your son wants to dress as for Halloween?”

About fourteen sarcastic remarks jump into my head but instead I say, “Dr van Helsing?”

“So you knew about this?”

“Of course. I always make his costumes.”

“You know how I feel about this,” his voice is low, “How does he know about van Helsing anyway?”

“I’ve been reading him Dracula at bed time.”

“He’s seven.”

“I want to be like you Daddy. He’s smart and brave like you.”

“Go to your room,” Sam may be mad as hell at me, but his voice is still gentle to John, but the boy is smart and knows not to push his luck.

John gets up and leaves the room with a mumbled, “Yes sir,” trailing behind him.

When we are alone, when we’ve heard John’s door click shut, Sam sighs, gathering himself for the fight, “You’ve told him,” he spits at me, “you’ve told him what Dean and I do.”

“If you mean that you teach ethics at the local college and that Dean is a rep for Sire Power, then yes. If you mean about Hunting, then you are accusing the wrong person!”

“We’ve talked about this!” he’s standing now, “he’s too young, he doesn’t need to know yet. And I don’t want him out parading around for Halloween. And you just-“

“I’m not going to tell him he can’t go out trick or treating. And when are you planning on telling John what you do on your weekends away?”

“When he is older,” his voice has fallen to his normal speaking level, but it still feels like he’s spiting his words at me.

“You think he believes you go deer hunting?”


“You’ve never, not once, come home with a deer. And how do you want John to find out? When you don’t come home? Or when Dean doesn’t? I don’t want to be the one explaining that to our son!” Sam’s face twitches, the expression is somewhere between a smile and a bull snorting, I’ve hit a nerve. Good, he’s been a complete bastard for the past two weeks, and I’ve probably got another week of psycho husband, before I get my Sam back.

“I’ll tell him when he’s ready.”

“Sure,” I say turning on my heel and storming out. I go where I always go when Sam and I fight. I climb the silo. If Sam looked hard he could find me, but honestly he won’t be looking. I can smoke up here, and that’s what I do. I sit and I smoke. I quit every year at New Years and I pick it up again every year when I see the first Halloween decorations.

I hear someone climbing behind me but I don’t turn around, “How long have you been up here?” my brother-in-law asks. I look down and count the cigarette buts.

“Five smokes.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” I look over at Dean, he takes a backpack off and sets it down as he sits next to me. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until he slips an arm around me, “Bad night?” he asks me.

“Bad night, in a bad week, in a bad month.”

“You want to talk about it?” You’d have to know Dean to know how strange that sounds coming out of his mouth.

“No,” I laugh, “did I hear bottles in your bag?”

“Thought you might like a drink. I brought a six-pack”

“Good man.”

“I know my brother. I wouldn’t want to be married to him,” he opens me a bottle and I take a long sip; he must be feeling bad for me, it’s cider. My favorite.

“He’s a good husband, except for – well right now.”

There is a long silence before Dean answers, “Well he loved her and he watched her die.”

“He loves her, and she’s ten years gone.”

“Good song.”

“Yeah it is,” I told him I didn’t want to talk about it but I seem to be compelled anyway, “I was just standing near Sam when ‘get married’ came up on his to do list. He’s still in love with her.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I was there Dean, he never showed any interest until after you and Mare were married.”

“He’s the one that was always suggesting I come see your sister.”

“He was just trying to get you some action.”

“Unlikely,” Dean snorts, “If that was all he wanted he wouldn’t have to drag me all the way out here.”

“Stud,” I say pushing him a little.

“Yeah, I was quite the stud. Anyway, I think I remember catching him on the phone with you from time to time.”

“If something happened, or you guys were coming.”

“That’s more than he was talking to just about anyone but me.”

Dean gives my shoulders a squeeze and then lets me go. We sit quietly drinking and I smoke another cigarette. Six. After I finish my bottle I throw it into the driveway. I listen as it whistles through the air and then smashes in the drive. It hits near Sam’s car.

“Maybe it’ll pop his tire.”

“And that will make him so much more pleasant.”

We are quiet again; quiet as I finish off another bottle, quiet for a time as I just look up at the stars. Then at some point Dean starts to talk about normal day to day things, work, his daughter Mary - Elizabeth and our son John. I’m not really listening, after all we live next to each other and our kids are almost inseparable, I don’t think I ever go more than twelve hours without seeing Dean or Mare. We’re family. I lay there half listening until Dean says, “He’s probably missing you.”

“Not for a few days. Not for a few days, Dean.”

“Yeah, well if you want to come stay with us…”

“No, I should go home and make sure your brother remembers he has a life.”

As I start to clime down from the roof of the silo I think I hear Dean say, “Good, Sammy needs you.”

When I get to my house all is quiet. Not a peep from either Sam or John. I’m not surprised, since Sam was in such a foul mood, I’m sure our son would have gone to bed just to escape. Of course I have been outside, on the silo for hours. I feel giddy from drink and smoke. The stairs are dark and I’m embarrassed to say I have to hold the handrail as I climb them. I could clime down the silo fine, but now I can’t climb my own stairs. On the way to my room I poke my head in to John’s room. He’s sleeping like a baby. I notice the Grimms Fairy Tails has replaced Dracula, I thought the point was not to frighten him. But maybe I missed the point. The next door down is the room I share with Sam. I open the door and he starts before I’ve even let go of the knob.

“I can smell you from here. Can you shower before coming to bed?” his voice drops before he adds, “Please?”

“Yeah. No prob,” I head to the bathroom to shower knowing that the softening of Sam’s voice is the closest I’m going to get to an apology. I take a quick shower and wash my hair. OK so it’s not that quick a shower, but I don’t expect Sam to be sleeping when I get out. But when I step back into the bedroom, there he is, eyes closed, presumably asleep, probably faking. I want to wake him and talk but I know I should accept defeat, so I slip quietly into bed next to him. We lay back to back, the warmth of his body banishing any lingering chill from my evening out with Dean. Sam is breaths are deep, slow and even so maybe he is asleep, or if not he must be at the edge of sleep. He shifts slightly, one of his feet coming to rest against the soles of my feet. I melt. I always melt when we’re back to back and foot to foot. He’s my husband. I love him even if I have to share him with a ghost, even if I love him more than he loves me. Even if his heart is with her tonight, his body is here, safe, with me, his wife.

I’m woken by a hand thumping me in the back of the head. Sam is having a nightmare. I roll towards him, murmuring something comforting, it doesn’t help and I’ve learned not to wake him after he starts thrashing around.

“Hush Darling,” I whisper trying to touch his face. He pulls away, thrashing weakly. He moans. I know it will be over soon. He moans and then gasps.

“No!” he shouts, sitting up. His hands grip the covers, eyes wide, body trembling and covered with sweat. I reach out to him and he starts from my hand before his eyes focus on me, “Oh god,” he sighs slumping forward.

I sit up and reach for Sam, this time he lets me take him in my arms, “same dream?” I ask. He’s still trembling head to foot. I pull the covers up around his shoulders.
“No,” Sam croaks pressing his head into me. I can feel tears falling on my chest, “it started the same but I looked up and it was you,” his hand twines in my nightshirt, “It was you,” he sobs. Over Sam’s head I can see John at our door.

“It’s OK, “ say gesturing our son back to bed, Sam seems to be holding his breath until we hear his door click closed, “It’s OK,” I whisper into Sam’s hair.

“But, what if it comes for you?” his voice is shaky.

“The three of you killed that demon, remember? It’s gone.”

“But there will always be something,” he snuffles, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

“Nothing is gonna happen to me,” I say stroking his head, “Back to sleep?”

Sam nods against me. I rest back on the bed, pulling my husband along with me. He curls up against my chest, “don’t know if I’ll be able to go back to sleep.”

“Give it a try?” I ask stroking his hair, “Some times a dream is just a dream.”

“You sound like Dean.”

“No, I sound like Freud. Sleep now.”

“I love you,” his voice is soft with tears, shed and unshed.

“I know,” I really do know, it’s just hard to remember sometimes.

“I’m sorry, you married such a freak.”

“You aren’t that bad,” I pull him even closer. I don’t think he hears me, because he’s snoring gently. I’m not worried, I know it’s just a dream. It’s the same dream that keeps him up every year. Except he’s never dreamed about me being the one that is hurt, the one that is dieing, maybe now that she’s ten years gone, maybe her grip on him is fading. Maybe soon he’ll be mine all year around.


( 45 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 6th, 2006 02:22 am (UTC)
Recced by trystan830.

Fascinating. And beautiful and heart-breaking.

Just...yeah. I'm processing. But it's very, very, very, very good. :)
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:06 am (UTC)
Thanks for reading. It was a - well fun isn't the word - write.

My husband had some bad trauma ten years ago (not excatctly your girlfreind burning and stuck to the celing - but close enough to give me an idea of what anyone who marries Sam may end up going through) and I guess that's where this came from.
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:08 am (UTC)
Cathartic, perhaps?

I'm sorry about the trauma.
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:24 am (UTC)
It's OK. I didn't know him back then (sort of like Kate) the nightmares suck, but hey. Things are what they are, can't change the past.

But I have to say I have been cluked in the back of the head WAY too many times. LOL

Now I'm wondering if that's why I'm a Sammy girl...
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:26 am (UTC)
Maybe. I think that's why I'm a Sam-girl, too.

Though, if circumstances arose, I would take Dean.

Or both. Not that picky. :D
(no subject) - bodgei - Mar. 6th, 2006 12:08 pm (UTC) - Expand
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Mar. 6th, 2006 02:23 am (UTC)
very cool... i liked it a lot, really.

Dean married... is... different, but then, you've made it 10 years later, so who knows.

write more?
Mar. 6th, 2006 02:59 am (UTC)
I seem to be going backwards with this. I have an idea as to how they all met (Heck I even have the first things the girls say to the brothers - I even had it in the story but I cut it out for some stupid reason)

Dean married, and the father of girls - not to mention a semen rep (I couldn't resist that for some reason) thanks for reading.
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:25 am (UTC)
backwards is fine. i just posted part one of my new fic... it's mostly flashback.

Dean married, and especially having daughters, is just scary!
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:27 am (UTC)
Dean would be one of those damn scary dads, who would take the potential son-in-law "hunting". And then we would have the Benders all over again. :D
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:30 am (UTC)
no, i was thinking more like, his daughter would bring a guy home, and Dean would be sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table, cleaning *all* his guns... heh.

(that's what B was saying he coulda done, if he'd gotten into the police academy and was a police officer... we're investing in metal baseball bats instead.)
(no subject) - acostilow - Mar. 6th, 2006 03:34 am (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 6th, 2006 12:10 pm (UTC)
Ted Nugent only has daughters... mind you he says he never has to be awful to the boyfriends, cause the girls can shoot as well as he does.
Mar. 7th, 2006 12:19 pm (UTC)
OK so where is your fic - I know you seperated out your fic jourol (but I forgot to freind it) also should I post this to the SNfic cmunity?

Obvously not today - since I can't make my fingers work.
Mar. 7th, 2006 02:04 pm (UTC)
my fic is at trys_writer

yes! post your fic at supernaturalfic... and check the other fic comms in trys_writer's profile, too :)
(no subject) - bodgei - Mar. 7th, 2006 05:06 pm (UTC) - Expand
Mar. 6th, 2006 07:47 am (UTC)
Told ya they'd like it here... ;)
Mar. 6th, 2006 12:09 pm (UTC)
( 45 comments — Leave a comment )