Losing Sam, Arc 3.4, Supernatural, Keeper!Verse

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural, Keeper!Verse
Title: Losing Sam, Arc 3.4 (All Keeper Verse Here, including Arcs 1 & 2)
Rating: R
Word Count: 37,625 (total arc)
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), John, Dana (Dean's daughter) Missouri, OFC & OMC
Summary: Sam embarks on his healing journey, Dean and Dana continue to fight, Scott tries to intervene and Dean decides to take up with his friend Jack Daniels, until Dana takes him away.

A/Ns & Warnings: This story pics up after arc 2 as written by shotofjack. It would never have happened without her. From the original concept to her beta, this fic owes a good amount to her. Expect a chapter a day until it is finished.




Sam followed Ally through the trees, poking at the little blob of healing power just to keep his body moving over the tough terrain. Eventually they came to a small building near a creek. He sank to a seat gratefully when he reached the picnic table, sweating and breathing heavily.

“You do not ask for help easily.” Ally said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, I don’t.”

“Even when help is easily at hand.”

“I was raised to believe I had to do things for myself.” Sam said, picking at the worn wood of the table top.

“That is a noble thing indeed, but foolish.” Ally caressed his cheek. “You must learn that there is no shame in seeking help. It is for help that you have come, and yet you have not asked.”

She turned away then, her eyes sweeping over the area. “This is the sanctuary. Only those with express invitation may access it. To all others, it is shielded. You are safe here, Samuel.”

“Why do you call me that?”

She looked at him, and it felt like she was looking through him. “It is your name.”

He shook his head lightly. “Sam. Everyone calls me Sam.”

“I shall call you Samuel. It is fitting. Come then, shall I help you inside?”

Somehow he felt like he was a child being scolded, and he wasn’t sure why. He nodded and let her help him up.



“Dad!” Dana struggled down the stairs with the second big box, then gave up and floated it down.

“Dad!” The second day and he still wasn’t speaking to her. She’d gotten permission to get into her dorm room a few days early, and Scott was busy getting himself ready to move. Papa had gone off to keep an eye on Sam and that left her moving her crap all by herself.

Her father came out of the kitchen as she got to the bottom of the stairs, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. “That you’re answer to everything?”

He scowled at her. “A little help would be nice,” she said.

In response, he hit the box, sending it twirling through the air and upending it, dumping clothes all over the floor. She understood he was hurting, but something was going to have to snap him out of this.

“Move your own damn self. You did just fine moving Sam the fuck out of here.”

“Dad…” She reached for him with one hand, but he pulled free and headed up the stairs. “Fuck.” She shook her head and went to clean up the mess. There was a quick knock at the door and it swung open to reveal Scott. “Hey.”

“What happened?”

“My father is behaving like a child.” Dana said, throwing clothes back into the box. “He’s upset that I sided with Missouri and Sam.”

The bedroom door slammed shut and Scott looked up the stairs. “He’ll come around. You said it was the best thing for Sam, right?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up to kiss his cheek. “I love you…but Winchesters are stubborn.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I get that, Dana. I get that. But I also get that your old man loves Sam. I mean, like intense. If it really is the best thing, he’ll come around.”

Dana licked her lips and looked up the stairs. That was a really big if. Truth was she wasn’t sure Sam would come back any better than he left, and if he was worse…her father might never forgive her. She went back to throwing her clothes back into the box. “Good thing I’m not the pack rat Sam is.”

“You okay?”

Dana made a face. Truthfully, it stung. Her father had never treated her like this. “He’s angry…he’s never been angry like this.” She bit her lip and fretted over it. It was about Sam and she knew it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. “Not at me anyway.”

He kissed her lightly, then bent to help. “Why don’t you let me help you?”

“You have your own packing to do. Don’t worry. I’ll just wait until after dark and I’ll float everything in if I have to.” She stood and lifted the box with an eyebrow raise.

“Right, because dark means no one around on a college campus.” Scott said with a smirk, catching her around the waist and drawing her in to kiss again. “At least let me help you load the car.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking, kissed him back. “Okay. There are more boxes in my room.” She kissed him again, pointed to the box and aimed it at the front door.



Dean could hear Dana and Scott up and down the stairs. He wanted to open the bedroom door and scream at them to go away. He wanted to be alone…no, he wanted Sam. But since Sam was gone, he wanted to alone. He wanted to sulk and feel the ache and drink until it went away.

When he finally heard the SUV fire up and pull out, he figured he was safe. He opened the door and came face to face with Scott. “What the fuck?”

Scott nodded to him. “Dana’s pretty upset.”

“So?” Dean maneuvered around him, aiming for the stairs. Not that he knew why, just that he would have felt dumb going back into his room.

“So I think you’re being an ass…sir.”

Dean turned to look at him. At least he had the good sense to look nervous. Scott swallowed.

“Why are you still here?”

“I love Dana.” Scott answered and Dean scowled at him.

“In my house. Why are you in my house?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’ve done that. Goodbye.” Dean headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. He cursed when Scott followed.

“Dana loves you and Sam. She wants him to have the best chances to—“

“Fuck you.” Dean turned on him. “Fuck you. You have no place to talk about Sam or what he needs. You have no right. Get out. Go off to your fucking school in fucking California and forget us, forget everything.”

To his credit, Scott stood his ground. “No. No, sir. I love Dana and she loves me and—“

“And what? You gonna marry her?” Dean snorted. “Yeah right.”

“What? You’re not making any sense.”

“You think you got what it takes to handle a Winchester? You don’t know the half of it do you? You think just because you got in her pants first that you get to have her forever?”

“Okay, I get that you’ve been through a lot. But really, you’re starting to worry me, and Dana’s already freaked out.”

“Dana isn’t freaked out. She’s a freak. Goddamn fucking powers make her think she’s so much smarter than her old man…thinks she knows what’s best. Just does whatever the fuck she wants.”

He pulled a picture off the fridge and shoved it at him. “Always does whatever the fuck she wants, doesn’t give a shit about the rest of us.” The picture was the three of them on top of After Six. They looked happy. It pissed Dean off. He knew he should stop. Should shut up, but he was on a roll. “Don’t think so? You ask her about Yosemite.”

Dean pushed past him, back toward the stairs. “And get the fuck out of my house.”



“Once we begin only the three of us will be here, in this space, until you are strong enough again to handle others.” Ally said, lighting candles around the small room.

Nearby Inda was deep in meditation. The boy had brought his things and withdrawn. Ally held up the bit of pink blanket. “I find it telling, Samuel, that when told to bring with you that which defines you, you bring things which come to you from others.”

Sam shifted nervously. “I am who I am because of who they are.”

She smiled and set the bit of blanket and the ring wrapped inside it on a high shelf in the room. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Already?” Somehow he thought they would start in the morning.

“The sooner we begin, the sooner you may return to those you love.”

She moved closer in the restricted space, urged Sam onto the mattress that was shoved into the corner of the room. It was soft, cushioned with pillows and blankets.

“Are you going to tell me how this works?” Sam asked. He felt strangely exposed, and the fear that this wouldn’t help was niggling the back of his brain.

“We will begin by regressing you to infancy.” Ally said.

Sam started at the idea. “Infancy?”

“You will be as a child, emotionally and mentally. We can do nothing about your memories, can not erase your past…we can only help you rebuild the container in which they dwell.” She helped him lay back in the cocoon of blankets and pillows. “Make your body comfortable and relax, you are safe.”

He didn’t feel particularly safe. He felt as though the world were tilting out from under him. “Close your eyes Samuel. Make your mind blank. Breathe deeply.”

He did as he was told, tried to center himself. He poked at the healing power for good measure, feeling the familiar warmth ripple through him. “Good, Samuel.” He felt her first, wrapping around him, guiding him deeper into himself. “Show me your earliest memory.”

The image popped up almost unbidden, the dark closet, the fear…the voice of the man who raised him…Her presence brushed over him, stilled and soothed him. Now go back further.

He didn’t think he could, but there she found an earlier image…looking up at the mansion, standing in the snow…cold and curiosity…there was a hand holding his…Still earlier, Samuel.

There was a string then…faces, places…emotions, all fleeting, racing past like a movie going backwards…as it slowed and stopped, Sam felt himself fall into the memory, into the tiny body in a crib, gurgling up at a face…a face framed in blond hair. Mom. The word reverberated around in his brain.

His tiny hands reached up to her and she smiled softly, her voice humming out a lullaby. He could feel tears leaking from his eyes, but his ability to make his body move seemed to be gone.

Do not fight, Samuel. Trust this moment, this memory…trust me.

He felt Inda then, settling over him like a stifling blanket. He tried not to panic, concentrated on his mother’s face, her voice. In the memory, his mother moved to the side, letting his father lean over the crib. “Hey Sammy, it’s Daddy.”

His stomach twisted and he felt something snap, heard a snipping sound…words fled and he clung to the feeling of Mom and Daddy as though they were everything. There was another snip and he started to cry, his sense of body and self dissolving into the memory, his little feet kicking as Daddy reached in and picked him up, shushing and cradling him to his big chest.

Tiny fists closed over Daddy’s shirt and Sam cried into its cotton.



“Dana?”

Dana peered over boxes to find Scott at the door to her dorm room. “I thought we agreed you were going home to pack.”

He was upset, she could read that from where she was, even without applying any powers. “I—“ He shook his head and climbed over boxes. “I talked to your dad.”

She sighed. That was probably not a good thing, considering the state of mind her father was in. “Scott, he’s…not himself. I figure we give him a few days to cool off, things will be better.”

“I don’t know Dana…he’s really cracking.”

She stopped and looked at him. He sounded concerned, beyond just her father hurting her with his anger. “What did he say?”

Scott shook his head. “He wasn’t making sense, talking about you like…asked me if I was planning to marry you, said you thought you were better than him…he was just…crazy.”

She wanted to reach into his head and see what had happened, but that was forbidden. She’d never done it to him, and she wasn’t going to start now. Scott sighed. “You don’t think he’d hurt himself do you?” Scott asked.

“No.” Dana shook her head. “Not him. Sam’s the only martyr in this family.” At least, she didn’t think he would. “Why would you ask?”

Scott sighed and reached for her. She moved into his arms, hugging him to her.

“He reminded me of my uncle. Right after his partner died.”

She nodded into his shoulder. If they’d actually lost Sam, she would be more worried. But Sam was alive. Her father was angry, maybe even a little destructive, but he wouldn’t hurt himself over it. Still, maybe she should take him some dinner.

“He said something about you and Yosemite.” Scott pulled back and looked at her. “He was just…yelling about how I couldn’t handle you and that you were…” Scott stopped himself and looked away.

Dana frowned and turned his face back to her. He was keeping something from her, and it had to do with why he was so upset. “What did he say?” Her heart was pounding. If her father said anything about Travis, she was going to have to kick his ass.

“He called you a freak.” Scott said after a minute, hanging his head. “That’s when I knew he’d lost it.”

Dana exhaled slowly. “I’m going to go check on him.”

“You want me to come with?”

She shook her head and kissed him lightly. “You have a plane to catch tomorrow. Go home and see your parents.”

“You still want to take me to the airport in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t want you going off without the chance to say goodbye.” Her heart fluttered. She was going to miss Scott…she hadn’t let herself think too much about it. “I love you, you know?”

“I do know.” Scott said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good luck.”

Dana walked with him down to their cars, waved as he drove off, then got into Sam’s SUV and headed out in search of food to give her father. She was half tempted to drug it…but that was only postponing what really needed to happen.

Not that she was really sure what that was. She ended up at the fried chicken place, because grease seemed to make him happy. She headed for home then. The Impala was sitting in the driveway. The house was quiet for the most part…all but the pit of misery and anger that was her father sitting in the center of it.

Aristotle greeted her as she opened the door. She smiled and scratched her head. “Hey Ari…where’s…”

Her father sat up, glaring at her from the couch. Rembrandt jumped up and barked at her. “Oh. I brought dinner.”

“Got dinner.” Dean raised the bottle. It was more than half gone.

“Great, you’re drunk.”

“Not.” He lurched to his feet as she put the bucket of chicken on the table.

She reached for the bottle and took it from him.

“Hey.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“Not my mother.”

“No, but Papa isn’t here to put you on your ass, so you’re stuck with me.” He reached for the bottle but she pulled it away. “Eat, then you can have the bottle back.” She headed for the kitchen while he pulled the bucket toward him and made a show of biting into a piece of chicken. “See, not so hard.” She let the kitchen door shut and upended the bottle in the sink. She said he could have the bottle, not the whiskey.

Dana poured a glass of water and went out to give it to her father. “Here, drink this.”

He didn’t sit, just hovered over the table eating. “So, you scared Scott. He thinks you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Told him to fuck off.” Dean said around a mouth of chicken.

“Told him a lot, didn’t you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you tell him about Yosemite, Dad?”

“Told him to ask you. Little fuck thinks he knows you.”

“That is none of your business.” She was angry, but yelling at him probably wouldn’t help. “I get that you’re pissed Dad. I get that you’re hurt and you’re scared. But that doesn’t give you the right to—“

“Don’t you dare talk to me about what I have the right to do, young lady. You are still my daughter.”

“Yeah, your freak daughter. Maybe I should just leave you to your misery.”

He paled, but didn’t back down. “Maybe you should.”

“You know how to reach me when you sober up.” She stormed out, slamming the door. Scott was right. Her father was losing it.