Actions

Work Header

It's A Winchester Life

Summary:

A Christmas Missive set in the Winchester Ranch universe. There's a primer if you haven't read Stars, Strays & Saddle Oil so you can read it as a stand alone.

This was supposed to be a one off for P for her birthday, but since it's already a day late so. . . The conclusion may not be out until just after Christmas. Depends on how much time my family takes up. Sheesh. You'd think it was the holidays or something.

Notes:

Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on Sinful Desire collection profile.

Author's notes: If you have not read any of the other stories in the series you need to know the following:

·Mary died six months after Sam’s birth due to complications from the birth.
·Sam grew up a sad moody child with few friends save for Dean Singer.
·Bobby Singer was a man, with a gift for animals, who helped John with his ranch but was killed by the stray kick of a mare.
·After his father’s death Dean remained on the ranch becoming its foreman in the fullness of time.
·When the boys were in their teens, in an effort to get through to Sam, John rescued a young man named Jeremiah Bennet from a juvenile facility after a bad choice landed him in jail.
·While following Jeremiah’s baseball team, the Winchester’s took a weekend to Raleigh, NC where Jeremiah met Belle who would become his wife and Sam’s “big sister”.
·During his youth, in a rare moment of defiance, Dean went against John’s wishes and joined the rodeo.
·Carol Gooding was John’s housekeeper who helped him raise the boys. After Sam realized that his happiness was dependant on his own honesty about his feelings for Dean and he became a much more decent person, John & Carol were able to be honest about their own feelings and were married.
·Sam was brutally attacked by a homophobic ranch hand and nearly died.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It had been a stupid fight and Sam regretted every angry word, especially now, knowing that Dean had slept in the living room.

 

Dean had been conspicuously absent when it had been time to decorate, time to shop and now when it was time to wrap and Sam was just a little fed up. They had fought and then characteristically, Sam had stormed off up to the shower and thrown himself in bed in a huff. He had expected Dean to follow along shortly, but wasn’t surprised to find that he had fallen asleep before that had happened. He was surprised to find that Dean hadn’t come at all, probably having fallen asleep in the armchair in front of some movie.

 

Sam rose quietly and pulled on a pair of comfy sweats fully expecting to go down and find Dean for a bit of kiss, (and probably a lot of something else), and make up. What he found was not what he expected.

 

When he got to the foot of the stairs, everything was wrong. The cottage was not the bright cheery great room that Sam had renovated it into over a year ago, but the dreary, dull closed in little house that they had first moved into. Dean was not asleep in the armchair, nor were any of their shoes by the door and there was a man in a trench coat in the center of the room.

 

Sam reached for the baseball bat that stood by the front door and was more than a little surprised to find that it wasn’t there. But while all that should have been startling enough, Sam was fixated on the fact that his hand passed right through the door.

 

“What the fuck?” Sam cried, surprising even himself at the note of fear in his voice.

 

“I am Castiel, your guardian angel, and I am here to make your wish come true.”

 

Sam’s eyes rose into his bangs. “My wish . . . my dog’s name is Castiel.”

 

“Imagine how flattered I was.” The man replied stone-faced. “But you have no dog because you wished you were never born. I’m here to show you what the world would be without you.”

 

“You are fucking kidding me.” Sam looked around furtively, half expecting Jer or Dave to pop out of somewhere and let him know the joke was over, but there was the matter of the cottage and the door and he was sure it wasn’t them. Which left only one explanation.

 

“No you are not dreaming.” The man answered before Sam could ask. “I am your guardian angel and you did wish that you weren’t born, so movie or not, this kind of thing does happen and it is happening to you.”

 

And then the whole horrid cadence of their fight came back to Sam and he knew it to be true.

 

They didn’t often fight, they’d come too far together to fight but when they did, it could be vicious and for nothing.

 

“What is up your ass Sam?” Dean growled.

 

“Me?” Sam gasped. “I’m the one who took the list and went to Dallas and dragged through all those stores that you hate and humped all this shit back here. I’m the one who decorated the house. Fuck Dean, I’m the one who had to go get you a live fucking tree because you wanted a real Christmas this year and now you won’t even help wrap.”

 

“You know what it looks like when I wrap stuff.” Dean tried.

 

“Then hold the tape or write the tags. Make some fucking effort to be part of our lives Dean.” Even Sam had trouble believing how angry he was. It was down to principle now and Sam wasn’t backing down. “Don’t you want us to have a Christmas, don’t you want to be part of our holidays?” Sam shook away the frustrated tears. “You always worried that you were making me do things for you and I’d resent you Dean. Well are you fucking trying to make that true?”

 

“Really Sam?” Dean had his blood up now and it was on for sure. The verbal daggers wouldn’t be satisfied without blood. “You’re gonna go all melodramatic on me? You gonna wish we never got married or some stupid shit?”

 

Even in his heated mood, Sam recoiled from that. His eyes narrowed and his teeth ground together. “I’ll do you one better Dean? What if I’d never been here at all? You would all have been happier.” Dean took a half step back before reaching for Sam’s shaking arm willing him not to go where Dean could see he was going. “If I hadn’t been here this whole shit show of my life would have happened to someone else and we’d all have been better off.”

 

“No Sam.” Dean whispered.

 

All of Sam’s misplaced rage vibrated through him as he looked Dean dead in the eye and spat the words. “You make me wish I’d never been born.”

 

So there it was. Sam had said it and for some fucked up reason, it had come true. Sam looked at the ‘angel’. Trench coat? Really? Holy tax accountant more like. “So we’re going on a journey and then I have to learn some lesson to get my life back? Is that it? Can I just admit that I was a jack ass and get my life back now?”

 

The angel, Castiel, sighed. “You will take the journey. I am merely here as a conduit by which you must learn what so many need to, but so few are given opportunity to.”

 

“Are you going to tell me this is some gift?”

 

“Are you going to accept that?”

 

Sam wasn’t sure if he was going to like this guy or become even more furious. “All right, let’s just get this over with. I have apologies to make.” Sam turned towards the door. “Do we just go or do I have to touch your coat or something?”

 

“The door will be your device.”

 

With his hand on the doorknob, Sam came to his first revelation of the exercise. If he hadn’t been born, his mother must still be alive. He felt a first jolt of happiness at that. “Well at least Dad should be happy.”

 

Obviously Sam had only seen pictures of his mom when she’d been young and happy and full of life and promise. He was hard pressed to find her in the woman who sat in the kitchen of the ranch house. Mary Winchester sat at the large kitchen table not even bothering to try and hide the forty of Vodka. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed Sam that it wasn’t even noon and already she had a third of the bottle gone.

 

“No.” Castiel answered the unasked. “She didn’t open it last night. It will take her all day to get through the whole bottle, but getting started in the morning is particularly difficult for her.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s heartbreaking that Mary died before being able to fulfill her dream to be your mother, but the happiest time of her life was being pregnant with you. She had purpose and felt unconditional love. As a young bride and up till your arrival, she and your father had common ground and a shared goal but when Mary couldn’t have children they found their common ground gone. Mary? Her purpose fell to the bottom of that bottle.”

 

“Dad?”

 

Castiel nodded towards the door, which this time opened to the office at the main barn. John sat, looking haggard and worn and fifteen years older than his years should be. While the barn around them showed no obvious disrepair it somehow didn’t seem in its usual pristine condition either. John’s rough hand ran through his hair as he poured over balance sheets. Clearly there was distress here.

 

“Without a helpmate to help him run the ranch or the household, John is overwhelmed. One of the hands is actually rustling cattle and the feed store is over billing. If he doesn’t discover at least one of these issues soon, John is at risk of losing the ranch his father built for him.”

 

“Oh come on.” Sam chuckled. “My Dad’s so much smarter than that.”

 

“It isn’t about his intelligence. Without anyone to leave it to, he finds himself hard pressed to care.”

 

Sam started to absorb it all, but each disclosure just forced another question. “Wait. If my mother is too drunk to manage the household, where’s Carol?”

 

Again Castiel gestured towards the door. Apparently Sam had to see the situation before the explanation. The moment Sam laid eyes on Carol he felt the sting of tears as the cherished woman he belatedly thought of as his mother stood before him. If John looked old, Carol was a shell of the vibrant woman that Sam knew. She was fifty pounds heavier but somehow gaunt in the face with eyes sunken behind dark circles of constant fatigue. Her shoulders were hunched over making her appear even shorter than she was. They were in an industrial laundry facility and Sam looked on helplessly as she struggled to manhandle the heavy load from one huge machine to the next. Sam’s voice, when it came, was low and broken with gravel. “Why is she here?”

 

“When Brian Gooding died, there was nothing to keep her at the ranch so she had to go and make a living. Most nights when she leaves here she goes to her second job cleaning offices.”

 

“But why? Dad would have hired her.”

 

“To do what? At that time, your mother was running her household with no issues and there was still hope for babies so there was no drink. That only came on in the end when all hope was gone.”

 

As they had been talking a younger man had come into the room and was talking to Carol. Sam’s attention was drawn back to Carol’s distressed outburst.

 

“But Mr. Ryan, I’ve worked here for twenty four years. Please, just let me stay until my pension comes in.”

 

“I’m sorry Carol. We were trying but your productivity has been dropping off drastically and with all the cutbacks, in this economy . . . we just couldn’t make it work.”

 

Her shoulders drooped even more, if that was possible, as Mr. Ryan walked away.

 

“What’s going to happen to her?” Sam asked sadly, only just stopping himself from reaching for her.

 

“Now you’re confusing me with Dickens. I do not see shadows of the future.” Sam shot a venomous look at the angel. “She will not retire with wealth, but will not survive on cat food either. Her future will be more of the same as her past.”

 

“But why is she alone? What about Belle? Jer?”

 

Those deadpan glances at the next door were really starting to infuriate Sam. Especially now as he was torn between his need to just stay close to Carol and the horrid sick feeling that this was her existence. Again Castiel answered the thoughts gnawing away at Sam, but this time he seemed almost sad.

 

“You can do nothing to change her if you stay.”

 

Sam looked at the angel but the face betrayed nothing. After only another moment’s hesitation, he turned the knob on the next door.

 

Belle sat in an unadorned cubicle wearing a set of headphones. “I understand sir but you must recognize that the down turn in the economy has effected a great many people who are still making payments on their accounts.” Sam could hear the party on the other end of the line shouting at her, horrible things if he was hearing correctly, but the distressing thing was the thousand-yard stare in Belle’s eyes. His normally vivacious, sparkling Belle appeared mousy and disconnected. She finally had enough of the tirade on the other end and spoke calmly again. “That may be so sir, but the sad truth is if we cannot come to some understanding here today, you will receive a visit from the Sheriff’s Department.” Another volley of suggestions for various orifices and Sam watched her sigh. “Thank you sir, have a nice day.”

 

“Another satisfied customer?” Came a voice from over the wall.

 

“He’ll call back when he cools down.” Belle replied. “They usually do.”

 

“And someone else will pick up the reward for your work again.” Said a lanky blonde who finally stood up to speak over the wall. “Why do you let them do that? If you actually got to post them as your statistics it might get you noticed, might get you a promotion. It would certainly show on your paycheck.”

 

Belle just shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t make any difference.” And then quieter so that even her companion didn’t hear. “It’s only me.”

 

“Where are we?” Sam’s voice shook a little.

 

“Belle works for one of the largest collection agencies in the Southeast.”

 

He knew he didn’t really want to know the answer but that was how this game was played. “Why?”

 

“John Winchester had no reason to follow a baseball team to Raleigh. Belle never left her parent’s home until they were killed in a car accident and she found nothing left for her. The siblings she wasted her youth in care of blamed her for not driving the car and rarely, if ever, speak to her. She works only to maintain life.”

 

Sam’s voice was barely a whisper. “Baby Jer?”

 

The angel sighed; about to explain how there could be no baby Jer when Sam struck out for the door only to open it onto the yard of the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville. Jeremiah stood, the evidence of the most recent beating still swollen on his features, apart from the clearly factioned groups all around him. Years of hard time were etched into his previously kind features along with vicious scars Sam didn’t want to know about. The eyes that Sam had so often seen welled with adoration for his baby, his Belle weren’t here. Dead eyes stared through Sam, their lessons learned through hard time, not books.

 

“Tell me.” Sam demanded.

 

“With no reason to find you a kindred spirit, John Winchester had ho reason to save him from the system. One fight led to another, a guard is dead and Jeremiah will never again see outside of these walls.”

 

Sam’s head was swimming. This can’t be for real, he thought. All of these things could not possibly hang on him but even before the angel spoke to answer his unasked question again, he knew it all to be true.

 

“I think you understand now Sam.” The angel spoke quietly and with empathy this time. “Every person’s life is like a stone thrown into a pond. The circles of our influence move out from where we penetrate the world to meet and interact, not only with the circles of the stone thrown closest to us but the circles made by stones thrown far away.”

 

There was only one question left. Sam spoke quietly. “Dean.”

 

“As I said, you understand now Sam. It’s not necessary to go there.”

 

“Take me!” Sam roared. Castiel had to remind himself that Sam was currently ethereal and posed no danger to him. But then how could a phantom vibrate with rage?

 

“It’s unpleasant Sam.” Castiel tried again. “You won’t like it.”

 

Much quieter this time, but no less insistent, Sam spoke again. “Take me.”

 

Castiel sighed, but gestured to the door. Sam didn’t rush towards it, but stepped ahead with purpose. He took a moment again, with his hand on the knob, perhaps reconsidering, Castiel hoped, before pulling the door open.

 

Dean lay on a single bed in a second rate motel room. He was naked to the waist making Sam gasp. His torso was a criss cross of scars and traumas that Sam could only speculate about. He also couldn’t guess when Dean had last had a shower or shave. There was a sizeable collection of empty liquor bottles dotted around the room, the most recent one still in Dean’s hand.

 

Could a spirit cry, Sam wondered. There was a prickling at his eyes along with the cold stone of despair in his stomach. Dean’s beautiful green eyes were as dead as Jeremiah’s had been. No sparkle, no mischief, no Dean. Castiel didn’t wait for the question this time.

 

“Dean’s father was not killed on the Winchester ranch, but he only drifted through John’s employ and ended up dragging Dean all over Texas. They finally drifted apart over Dean’s ‘lifestyle’. With no education to speak of, Dean joined the rodeo full time and despite the drink, he’s quite good at it.” Castiel paused, knowing that the rest would be the hardest for Sam to hear. “Dean never had a relationship. He drifted through towns, often hiring what he needed until he made that decision in the wrong town.” He paused again, waiting for Sam’s attention and perhaps, Sam noted, deciding whether or not to finish. “He was attacked and badly beaten in one of those towns and has never taken a companion since. He spends all of his time alone or with that bottle and waits, hoping that the next bull will just kill him.”

 

Sam knew he couldn’t be seen and even if he could, this Dean would not know him but he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached out, almost but not quite, to touch Dean’s cheek. “I’m sorry.” His voice quavered just a bit. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Without turning or otherwise addressing his angel, Sam asked. “How do I go back?”

 

Castiel almost asked for clarification that Sam was talking to him, but then finally Sam turned. “Have I learned my lesson? Can I just go back now?”

 

“It is not a question that I can answer Sam. Do you understand your importance in this world? Do you see how important you are in these lives?”

 

Sam hesitated. Right now all he could think of was his place in this life, to make this all right for Dean again; to see the sparkle of joy in those eyes, to hear the mischief in his voice. But then he thought of Jer, one of the best friends, greatest men he knew, trapped by his circumstance, his beautiful Belle wasting alone in a nothing job and Baby Jer, their precious life that would never be. He imagined his beloved Carol dying day by day in a miserable solitary existence. His father, void of everything now, even his love for his land. And Mary. The one who should have been saved by his not being there could not be saved from the despair within herself.

 

“I see it now.” Sam agreed. “I . . . appreciate what you’ve shown me. But I really, really want to go home now.”

 

“Then you know the way Sam.”

 

There it was, the final door and this time Sam rushed towards it.