Sam loves his older sister. More than he does anything else in this world. He thinks that maybe his dad does, too, but that's okay; she seems... happy. Almost. As happy as she can be.
She takes care of him. She's like the mama he never got to really have, since their mom died.
He loves the way that her green eyes glow with pride, soften with affection, harden quicker than water freezing into ice and getting sharp as a knife. He loves the way she laughs, different depending on why and her mood -- sometimes, it's a snort, other times it's full-bodied. He loves all of them. He especially loves when he's the reason that she laughs.
He loves the way she ruffles his hair, even if it annoys him sometimes. He loves the way that she's proud of him, the way that she praises him and then insults him in turn.
He loves the way that she encourages him, even though it's tearing her up inside. He can tell. He doesn't want to leave her -- god, he can't stand the idea of leaving her behind. He's going to go to school, and he's going to take her with him, and they'll figure this all out as they go. They have to.
I got a little carried away with this one.
Deanna was Sam's first everything. He took his first steps towards her, according to a very self-satisfied Dee -- whenever she wanted to remind him that she was older and wiser and he ought to listen to his big sister, she bragged, "You took your first steps in my direction, Little Sasquatch. Wouldn't leave me alone after that. You followed me everywhere! My freakin' shadow! And so," she'd finish, all big-sister-smug, "you should be followin' me now." She meant following her directions, her orders, her whims. And that was OK. Sam would follow her to the ends of the earth. She might be annoying and bossy and full of herself, but she was world.
First steps. Huh. She was his first memory, too. Four years old and running down a motel hallway after her, shouting, "Wait for me, Dee, wait for me!!" First person to hold him when he cried. First real friend he ever had. First person to tell him the monsters under the bed were real. First person to show him how to talk to girls and do his hair right and fit in with the boys. I'm one of the guys, Deanna would say, smirking. They just love me.
It made him sick and he didn't know why. He didn't want boys to like his sister. He didn't want them to love her. Didn't want them to see her smirk or her green eyes going soft and dreamy or her freckles glowing in the sun.
He finally figured out why it made him sick when he was eleven years old. Yeah. Raging hormones and a sister who boasted about her sex life and a dad who didn't even bother with a sex talk. Living in each other's pockets and skipping sex ed 'cause they had to move and accidentally watching softcore porn with wide eyes and panicky breath and shaking hands -- seriously!! He didn't mean to turn the TV to that channel! It WAS an accident. But he just...kept watching. Dee walked in of course. She caught him. Laughed herself hoarse and then sat next to him and told him exactly what was going on.
She didn't touch him 'till he was thirteen, even though the tension had been building. She probably felt weird 'cause he was a kid. Still, he couldn't help the way his eyes tracked her when she got out of the shower and paraded around in nothing but a towel. Couldn't help the situation in his pants when she'd spar with him, all dirty blonde hair and sweat-soaked tank tops.
Maybe she couldn't help it either. Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe they were always headed towards this.
First kiss. First handjob. First BJ. Took his virginity too, when he was sixteen and shaky and out of his fucking mind. (And if he came within two minutes, that's his freakin' business.)
Sam was pretty sure Deanna loved him too. Well, he knew she loved him -- she kept him safe and skipped meals so he could eat and let dirty old men pinch her ass at that shitty bartending job so she could buy him new jeans and pay for his textbooks.
But the kinda love that, like, a man and wife share. Boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. Soulmates. Whatever. He was pretty sure she was in love with him.
She never said it, but the way her eyes would be soft as a forest at midnight and her mouth would curve with desperate tenderness and her hands would clutch his shoulders when he plowed her on that stained futon in that shitty rental in Bangor -- it gave him hope.
The years passed. He loved everything about her. She was wild and free, like an unbroken stallion. So what if she dropped out of school and did everything Dad said? Sam knew he was first in her heart. She was a crack shot and a fierce hunter and could drink Dad under the table and served The Cause™ loyally.
So...so OK, maybe it did drive Sam a little insane, the way she obeyed Dad. John Winchester's loyal little soldier. Good, biddable daughter. A machine. A tool. His right-hand man. (And Sam secretly thought Dad would've preferred a son. Dean instead of Deanna, but he'd never say that. Besides, he'd think nastily, if he had a son, Dee wouldn't be Bait™. Yanno -- every reluctant witness and surly bar patron, they melted with one look. And it made Sam so jealous he'd have to empty a clip or slam his fists into the wall 'till they bled...)
Sam was so tired of hunting. He was tired of being tired and hungry and never settling down. He wanted school and friends and...and being another guy on the soccer team or in the school play or whatever. Was that too much to ask? Just six months in one place. A semester. He stopped begging Dad around the time he turned seventeen.
Sam was getting out of the hunter's life. He was fucking done. He was gonna go to college and make friends and stay in someplace for...hell, he'd stay there for years. Maybe forever! Somewhere near the ocean or, like, within a couple hours. He'd buy a beater and drive to the ocean on the weekends. Undergrad, graduate school. Law school, maybe? A PhD? Whatever!! Something! Something more than greasy diner food that made him sick and scratchy motel sheets that gave him hives. He did his time, didn't he? Served it like a prisoner. He racked up enough good karma!!
He deserved something good! For once in his fucking LIFE!
But he couldn't have any of it without Deanna. He needed her like he needed air. Sam didn't want to manipulate her or give her ultimatums, but he'd always been a little selfish.
"Dee, I have to get out of here. I'll die if I stay here."
"I can't live like this. Don't...don't you want me to be happy?"
"I can't do this without you. Please come with me, Dee, I'm begging you."
On and on. It didn't feel good. He knew he was breaking her apart, forcing her to choose between him and dad, making all those whiny little proclamations. But he'd do what he had to do to keep her.
And when she sighed, those big green eyes, turning on him with a thousand years of weariness and sorrow and said, "Of course, Sammy. I'll follow you anywhere."
Well. That was another first.
