Periphery by Hiyacynth

[liptonrm.livejournal.com]

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Jess
Author on LJ: hiyacynth
Author Website: Filling Up the Corners.
Why this must be read: This is a truly incredible story. Hiyacynth took an already emotionally-laden idea and ratcheted it up to a whole new level. So if you ever wondered what Sam might have wished for if he had been grabbed by the djinn instead of Dean, this story will lay it all out for you, in heartbreaking detail.

"Hey, man, you decent? You got visitors."

Sam's head wobbles again—who the hell's going to be visiting him in Joliet? Or anywhere, for that matter? Can't be the cops; Dean wouldn't let the cops at him without getting him up to speed, making sure their stories are straight. He starts to say something—maybe even just "What the hell?"—but his voice dies in his throat when Dean comes all the way into the room, making space for the visitors.

Dad. Dad is standing in the doorway. Next to him is another impossibility. She's older than in the pictures, older than the two memories Sam holds of her, but it's her. It's Mom.

"How you feelin', dude?" Dad asks, but Sam can't answer. Can't do anything but stare at his parents and wonder when he's going to wake up for real.

His mother—she's so beautiful—closes the space between the bed and the door. She leans over and puts her hands on Sam, one on his left shoulder, the other—soft, so soft—on the right side of his face, careful of his bruises and cuts, and Sam sees tears in her blue eyes.

"We were so scared, Sam," she whispers. "It's so good to see you awake." She chokes out an embarrassed-sounding laugh and rolls her eyes as she lifts her hands to wipe her cheek. "Sorry."

But Sam misses her touch already and catches her wrist, draws her hand back to his face, presses it there, manages to get out a hoarse "Mom," and then she's leaning in close enough that he can get his arms around her, feel how solid she is, breathe in the scent of her hair. She smells so real—no ozone, no decay, not a ghost.

Through tear-lensed eyes, Sam can see his father now, too: Dad's got one hand on his wife's back, and Sam feels the other clamp around his shoulder. He remembers that grip, sees something he recognizes as pride in his father's shining eyes—something he always longed for but rarely saw.

This doesn't feel like a dream. He doesn't feel asleep. But how?

Again, it's Dean's voice that draws Sam out.

"You people are like an after-school special over there," Dean teases.

Sam resists the urge to pinch himself to make sure he's awake, because the pain from his injuries is enough to convince him. He's awake, and his parents aren't ghosts, and his brother's standing there with as happy a smile as Sam can remember spread across his face, and Sam knows it's because Dean's looking at everything he's ever wanted: their family, together, whole.

Periphery