Part 7

[mickeym]

Back to Part Six

Headers in the Master post.



~~~~~

The inside of the Schneider home is warm, almost too warm, after the cool breezes of the orchard. Sam takes the mug of cider offered and gulps it down, wishing it was something stronger.

"Tell me," he begins, glancing over at the man — at Dean — "what happened? We, we got a telegram. That you were dead. They sent a body home to us. How can you be—and you never, you never wrote, or contacted us, or said anything, why—?"

Dean licks his lips, eyes darting from the table top to Sam, then back down. For the first time Sam sees the thick, twisted scar that starts down in his beard, and runs upward, behind his right ear before disappearing in Dean's hair. Dean shakes his head. "I didn't…remember."

"You didn't remember anything?"

"Not a lot. I know there was an accident. We were—were being fired at." Dean frowns. "Ambushed, I think. Lot of men down, and screaming, and smoke everywhere. It was like Hell."

Sam closes his eyes briefly, then looks back at Dean. "You remember being in the Army, though? And being in a battle?"

Dean nods, and his lips quirk in a shy half-smile. "Hard to forget that—everything right around it is clear as glass, except that's about all I do remember. I don't remember much else. Something exploded, and I woke up in a stranger's house. The doctor I saw said I probably never would fully regain my memory. After a few days I could remember my name, my first name anyway, but my tags were gone, and my uniform was burned pretty bad; no one could make out the last name on it, or my rank, and there wasn't anything on me to give any clues about who to contact."

"Corporal," Sam says quietly, fishing the tags out of the neck of his shirt. He loops them over his head and hands the chain to Dean, watching while he inspects them. "They found these laying right beside the—the body the Army sent home to us."

"Us?" Dean frowns again. "You keep saying 'us'."

"Me and Uncle Bobby. Our Uncle, our mom's brother. He—he raised us. After, um. He raised us." Sam takes the tags when Dean hands them back, and drops the chain over his head, tucking the tags back under his shirt.

Dean takes a long drink of his cider, then seems to come to a decision within himself. "How…how do you really know that I'm your brother? I mean, there could be other Deans and other Sams out there, right? It's not…I don't doubt you, but if your brother's been dead for awhile—"

"Ten years," Sam says with more calm than he feels. "And I know you're my brother."

"How?"

"You have a tattoo on your left arm, up by your shoulder. It's an eagle, and the flag. You and a bunch of guys from your unit went one night and had them done." Sam watches Dean raise his hand up to his arm, eyes wide with surprise. "Your friend Rabbit got a pin-up girl on his arm. You wrote me and told me about it, how you were half drunk when you had it done, and if you'd been a little more drunk, you might've…."

"Might've what?" Dean still looks torn between surprised and shocked, and Sam bites his lip. They haven't gotten there yet, and now probably isn't the best time to head in that direction.

"Might've gotten something else, instead. So, um. Amnesia? Permanently?"

"I guess? Is that the term for memory loss?" Dean shrugs. "When I woke up, I didn't remember much of anything, and I had headaches that felt like my skull was splitting open. Some things came back, like I could speak English and it wasn't accented, like the Brits. I couldn't speak German, but I knew a few words. I remembered crop cycles, and how to rotate seeding, and the basic stuff of what I figured was running a farm. I knew my way around an engine, I was good with horses, and I liked beef." He smiles when Sam snorts. "Some stuff was just there, and other stuff would—it was kind of like playing with a piece of string, with a cat? It was like my mind was dangling this stuff, just out of reach, waiting to see if I could pounce on it or not. It was — still is — frustrating as hell, especially not knowing anything about myself. And, uh. I kept having these dreams." He flushes, red heat spreading across his cheekbones, and Sam doesn't even need to hear the words to know what sort of dreams Dean's talking about. "Sometimes they were just about ordinary stuff, like swimming or playing—uh. Base, baseball, right? But there were other dreams, about Sammy — um. About you, I guess." The flush deepens, fascinating Sam, because his memories of Dean, he rarely blushed. "Except I don't know, uh, you said we're brothers."

"Yeah." Sam sighs and takes another drink of his cider. Guess they're going there after all. "We are. But, uh, we were that, too."

"We were, huh?" Dean nods easily, but his cheeks are still flushed and he looks…a little uncomfortable. "That's…that'll take some getting used to."

"Yeah." Sam tries to smile. "I'll bet."

An older woman comes into the kitchen and fires off a whole lot of questions in rapid German, all of which Dean answers, just as quickly. Just as fluently. They have a quick conversation, with Sam managing to get maybe one out of every dozen words — just enough to think Dean is supposed to be inviting him to stay for supper.

"I—she wants you to stay for supper," Dean says finally, confirming Sam's guess. "She's making potato dumplings and pork."

"I'd love to stay." Sam smiles at the woman. "Danke." He waits until she bustles back out of the room before asking, "who is she?"

"Oh, uh." Dean flushes again. "My schwiegermutter — um, Goodmother. No, wait. Mother-in-law," he finishes.

Sam's stomach, already knotted and aching with the adrenaline racing all through him, does a slow, sickening twist and roll, and for a minute Sam isn't completely sure he isn't going to be sick. He closes his eyes and breathes through it, because of course Dean would be married. He's been here for ten years, he's obviously a part of this family, this community, and even though Sam knows Dean loves — loved — him, he'll always remember his brother flirting with the young ladies on most of the neighboring farms.

"When…when do I get to meet my sister-in-law?" He asks, and is very pleased his voice stays steady.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. "Greta died four years back. Contracted diphtheria."

"Oh, God. Dean. I'm—I'm sorry."

That gets him a weak smile. "She was a good girl, but I didn't. I didn't love her. Not the way—not like I should've."

He says it very quietly, and Sam can't decide if it's because he's ashamed of it, or if it's simply that he doesn't want anyone who might be around and listening, to hear him.

"I thought about you all the time," Sam says, just as quietly. "I didn't want to believe it; I don't think I did believe it, until the Army sent the body home."

"I wonder whose body it was?" Dean's drawing circles through the condensation gathering on the table, beads of liquid rolling off the heavy mug of cider.

"Uncle Bobby wouldn't let me look at you. At the body, I mean. He said I didn't need to see that, not knowing—" It's Sam's turn to flush, and Dean looks at him sharply.

"Our Uncle knew—about us?"

Sam nods, throat closing over. It's hard to swallow past that lump, and when he does speak his voice is a thick rasp. "He said—he wasn't blind, or stupid. I never thought we were obvious or anything, but. I think…I think it was the way I grieved. Probably reminded him of our dad, after mom died. He told us one time, years ago, that sometimes…people can't live in a world after someone they love dies, or something like that. And I know for a while, I didn't care if I lived or not."

Dean's quiet for a few minutes, and Sam finds himself watching the cuckoo clock on the wall. He's never admitted that to anyone, not even himself. Finally Dean asks, "was?"

"Yeah. He died in November…it'll be three years this November. Had a bunch of heart attacks in a pretty short time, and they just did too much damage. I came home to take care of him, but I was too late. He was a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, and I didn't know he was sick until it was basically too late to do anything except watch him die."

It's quiet for a minute, until Dean says suddenly, "I'm sorry."

Sam startles at that. "For what?"

"That left you all alone, didn't it? When he died? Unless you have someone, um. Somewhere?"

Sam shakes his head. "Not even after you told me to get someone else. I just—I couldn't."

"Not at all?" There's an odd tone to Dean's words, and Sam can't decide if Dean's shocked, surprised, or maybe a little in awe. "In ten years?"

"I've had a few," Sam says sharply. "I haven't lived like a monk or anything. But no one…nobody special. Just you," he finishes softly.

Dean swallows, and Sam watches the movement, still feeling like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole. This can't be real. Can't be happening. After so long, so many years believing Dean dead — they had a damn funeral, for heaven's sake! — to find him still alive, here, half a world away, it's almost too much.

"I need to use the bathroom," Sam says, swallowing against the bile rising up. "Dean. Please—now."

"C'mon." It must show on his face, because instead of the bathroom, Dean steers him back outside, out into the cool, fresh air and the thickets of trees. And just like when they were kids, Dean rubs one hand soothingly up and down Sam's back as he throws up over and over, until there's nothing left to come up. "Easy, Sammy," he murmurs, stroking and rubbing until Sam stops heaving. "You okay?"

"Will be," Sam gasps. "In a minute. I'm sorry."

"No, s'okay. Hey—hey, it's all right." Dean pats his back when Sam heaves again, spitting and coughing. "Hang on, I'll get some water."

He's gone for a few minutes, and Sam flops over until he can sit braced against one of the tree trunks. His stomach and throat hurt now, and his ribs are going to ache in the morning.

"Here." Dean pops up out of nowhere, holding out a cup of cool water and a large square of fabric. "Rinse out your mouth and wipe off your face. You'll feel better." He sits down beside Sam, catty-corner to him, and brings his arms around his knees. Sam does feel better after he's rinsed his mouth out, and he uses a little of the water to wet the rag before wiping his face off. When he's finished he sets them beside him and tips his head back tiredly.

"I'm sorry," he says. "God, what a mess. I just—you're alive, Dean. I've thought you were dead for so long, and you weren't…and you're here, and God. I've missed you so much. Not just—I missed my brother, and I missed the other stuff. I just missed you."

The tears come then; the ones Sam never could cry the day he got that last letter. They've been bottled up inside him for so many years, the ache slowly becoming something he got used to, but never got rid of. Something that never went away completely, that popped up every so often, like a phantom limb.

"We used to go fishing, there was a lake, right? Not, not the swimming hole. But a lake. And you'd pack us a lunch, and Uncle Bobby—we all went fishing, didn't we?"

Sam nods through his tears, and snuffles loudly. "Every summer, at least a couple of times, if all the chores were done. Sometimes we'd pack a tent and stay the night, though none of us ever used the tent. We'd sleep out under the stars. I saw a shooting star once, and you told me to make a wish on it."

Dean's shifted closer, and he moves until he's settled against the tree trunk beside Sam, with Sam curled in toward him, ear over Dean's heart. "Did you?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you wish for?" Dean strokes his fingers through Sam's hair, and it's all Sam can do not to start crying again, the tears prickling at his eyes.

"You."

"Huh?"

"I wished for you."

He closes his eyes when Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head, shivers rippling through him. Everything else, the sex and the touching, even the kisses — those were icing. Extra things that were really nice, sure, but it was this Sam missed so badly. Dean holding him. Holding on to him. Just being with him.

There's a strange hitch in Dean's voice, and his fingers tighten briefly in Sam's hair. "I wish I—I wish I hadn't forgotten. I wish I could remember more. It's kind of like…looking at something that's under a big slab of glass. You can see it, but it's distorted, not clear and sharp. You know? Or it's like a dream. This feels like a dream, like the dreams I had for so long. It was always you I dreamed about, Sam. I could see your face, clear and plain as day. The way you looked at me, your smile so big and bright. I would wake up aching, needing something I couldn't remember. I spent months angry at everyone, everything."

"You remember some stuff."

Dean nods, the movement making it so Dean's head tipped against Sam's. "Some. And I think…talking with you? Is triggering other stuff. It still feels like it happened to someone else, but there are bits and pieces there that weren't there before. And I know…it's you I dreamed about. Why I dreamed that."

The dull ache he's carried for so long eases, though Sam suspects it's going to be a while, if ever, before it's fully gone. "Will you come home with me?"

"You have a place in the village?" Dean frowns. "How have I never seen you down there, before?"

"No. I mean yes, I have rooms in town — God, there's so much to tell you. But I meant — will you come home with me. Back to South Dakota, and the farm. Our farm."

Dean's quiet for what feels like forever, and the ache in Sam's stomach increases, sharp cramps that make him wonder if he's going to be sick again.

"You were going to go to law school." There's a note of wonder in Dean's voice. "You said…no, I said…that I'd farm, and you could support us."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "You said that."

"Did you go to law school?"

Sam laughs. "I had to drop out for a while when Uncle Bobby got sick, but I finished up after he passed. I graduated last June, and came over here straight-away."

"Why? Why not stay there and do whatever it is lawyers do?"

He shrugs. "I didn't want to stay there, by myself. I wasn't sure what to do, or where to go, so I figured this option would give me some time to figure things out." Sam isn't sure what he'll do if Dean says no, he doesn't want to go back to the States. There's no guarantee he'll want to, either. Dreams and vague memories of Sam aside, Dean's life is here, now. Has been for a while.

"Yes."

Sam's thinking so hard about what he'll do if Dean doesn't want to come home (throw up again? Cry some more? Break down completely? Yes to all of them, probably.), it startles him to hear Dean's voice. "Huh?"

"I'll go home. I want to go home with you, Sammy."

Oh, God. Actually, he may cry again right now. And throwing up hasn't been completely eliminated as an option, either. Sam turns toward Dean, though they're already so close it's more like moving his head and just…being there. Being there and looking his fill, because Dean's not moving. Just letting Sam look.

The beard is an oddity, because his memories of Dean are all clean-shaven, with the odd day of scruff or shadow if they were hunting or camping, or whatever. Sam reaches out and strokes his finger down the line of Dean's jaw, and Dean goes completely still.

"It's soft," Sam says, rubbing gently.

"I wear it—" Dean gestures to the scar. "Keeps it kind of hidden, so I don't scare babies and little kids." He smiles when he says it, but Sam sees the flash in his eyes and wondered how many people stared at him because of it.

"I don't care about that, either." Sam touches the scar lightly, follows the twist of it up behind Dean's ear. It's thick and ropey, winding along Dean's scalp. "Does it hurt?"

Dean shakes his head. "Not for a long time. But sometimes I get bad headaches, split-your-skull-wide-open type of headaches. They can leave me pretty bad off for days."

"You ever see a doctor for them?" Sam's gone back to petting Dean's jaw, fingers stroking and smoothing over the whiskers. They're fascinating, gleaming auburn-red-cinnamon-brown in the late-afternoon sun. "Your headaches."

"Once, a while ago." Dean shrugs. "Said there wasn't anything he could do." He turns his head so his cheek is resting, cradled, in Sam's palm, and closes his eyes. "I…remember, in my dreams. Or whatever it is, you were…you weren't very old. When I left."

"Fifteen," Sam whispers. "I turned sixteen the May after you shipped out."

"You loved me."

"I love you, yeah." He makes it present tense because he's always thought of it in present tense. "Always have. Always will."

Dean opens his eyes and smiles. "You sound pretty sure."

"Always have, always will." Sam's fingers itch to curl into the short, soft whiskers; to cup Dean's face and kiss him. It must show on his face, because Dean hitches a breath closer and whispers, "kiss me?"

It's as close to perfect as a kiss can be, soft and sweet. Dean's mouth tastes like apple cider, tongue tart-sweet against Sam's, with the soft scratch of whiskers rubbing and prickling the sensitive skin of his mouth. But even more than the taste, even more than the feel of Dean's mouth against his, is that it's Dean. It's Dean in his arms, Dean right here with him, Dean he's touching.

Sam's just ready to pull back when Dean slides his fingers into Sam's hair and changes angles, deepening the kiss. His mouth is slick and warm and he's eating at Sam's like a starving man and Sam's the banquet.

When they separate, both breathing faster, heavier, Sam touches his forehead to Dean's. "Can you…will you come stay with me tonight? In town?" He can't even consider the idea of being apart from Dean again — though rationally Sam knows he'll have to, at least to go to work tomorrow. But for right now…no.

Dean nods and leans in for another kiss. "Try and keep me away," he laughs breathlessly, teasing his mouth over Sam's. "Just try."

Sam has no intention of doing anything of the sort. Ever.


~fin~





A/N and Thank You's: This story is sort of like the marriage of two of my most favorite things: history and romance. It holds a special place in my heart as being probably the only story I've ever written that I didn't at some point (metaphorically) toss into the garbage can while screaming "God, I hate it!" It's my favorite of anything I've ever written, and I think it's probably some of my best work to date.

I got the idea for it back late last winter, or early this past spring, when one of my Workday Email Posse (hee) linked me to an article about a Russian couple who were married at the beginning of WWII and then got separated a few days later -- and she believe he was dead, and he couldn't find her, and they ended up apart for sixty years. When they found each other again, they said it was like those years hadn't ever happened; they were just as in love as they'd been. The big ol' sap in me went "AWWW!" and then I started thinking about a Sam and Dean version of that. :)

I owe huge thank you's to a lot of people: thenyxie, cormallen and nu_breed for hand-holding and audiencing, and just in general being there. To rivers_bend and leighm for beta-under-pressure (seriously--I sent the story to them like, Monday night, and the reworked ending last night), as well as hand-holding, and being there. Awesomeness all around :) Also thank you to my flist at large for helping me find links, and information, and putting up with my 10938140891 questions and word-count updates. (I feel like I should apologize for those, because normally? I could care less what the word count is. But y'all, I wrote SO MUCH, it just blew me away!) I also want to say, though he'll never (I hope!) see this, thank you to Matthew. He fetched tissues and cool drinks for me when I worked myself into sobbing while writing, and just in general encouraged me. ("Are you writing? Shouldn't you be writing? You're not done yet are you? How many more words until you're done?" - the kid makes a great nag.)

Thank you's need to go also to wendy and audrarose for coordinating all of this, and making it a very awesome experience. *hugs you*

Finally, many, many thanks to mkitty3, for the incredibly fabulous artwork she did for this story. She brought it to life for me.

I have a couple of footnotes/credit things, because I am deathly afeared of ever being accused of plagiarism. So, for Sam's commencement speech, I got the core of it from here: http://www.dominik.net/thoughts/valedictorian-speech.php3 and of course the "A day which will live in infamy" speech belongs to FKR and his speechwriters.

I really hope you've enjoyed reading this story. I loved writing it, and I'm thrilled to get to share it with y'all. Thank you :)

Comments

[spiniform.livejournal.com]

I loved this! The romance reeled me in so far that Dean's death made me ache even though I kind of was expecting it. Bobby was wonderful with his pragmatic acceptance and most of all I'm really glad Sam and Dean got a happy ending. :)

[veristic.livejournal.com]

This. Guh. Amazing. Seriously. I've been thinking about reading it for a week or so now but thought it was surely a death death fic (or reunion when they are much older) so I wasn't sure... and now I wish I wouldn't have waited so long. Your prose is gorgeous and the detail of the rural 1940s are spot-on (I write OF in that time period). I wish I could say more, this was just, ah, the right amount of angst, sweetness, sex, love.... it's Sam and Dean.

[shelgrainger2.livejournal.com]

What an amazing story. So sad and heartbreaking when Sammy thought Dean was dead but I am pleased he wasn't. The way the boys grew up was wonderful and just so great to read. Bobby was a fantastic uncle to them both. I loved every minute.

[mayushi.livejournal.com]

I haven't been active at all in LJ in a VERY long while, not to mention giving feedback to fics, but this one just has my fingers itching to write back to you, because OW!!! You made me cry SO MUCH when you killed Dean, I thought I was going to choke on the sobs, AND YOU BRING HIM BACK?!?! I'm a sucker for happy endings, but that was MEAN!!! *sniffles*

Have I mentioned how much I love this story yet? I don't read much wincest - the idea usually freaks me out(even if I can see it happening in canon - those guys are each other's whole world, after all...), but there has to be a major catalyst that brings them together. And a fic that fails show how their relationship transforms, or how they deal with that transformation, just doesn't work.

ANYWAY, the point I was trying to make before this ramble is that your fic not only made me buy it, it made me root for it, and enjoy it, and grin stupidly when Sam realized Dean was jealous. Everything about it just felt so raw and genuine, from the boundless, all-consuming, epic love Sam and Dean feel for each other and Dean's regrets and guilt faced with Sam's certainty, to Sam's reaction when Dean died, and then Bobby, how he dealt with grief and when he found Dean again - just, ow. I mean, I saw the artwork before the fic, I knew he was going to die, but it just hit me so damn HARD anyway. Which is proof of how good this story is - it swallowed me in completely.

Then Sam's thoughts, when he finally broke down after finding Dean again: "They've been bottled up inside him for so many years, the ache slowly becoming something he got used to, but never got rid of. Something that never went away completely, that popped up every so often, like a phantom limb."
It just started up the waterworks again, and I feel you pinned it down perfectly - grief can be like that, something you get used to, and not think about too often, and then sometimes it just bursts out, triggered by nothing.

It's now almost 4am where I live, I'm all cried out and this feedback is growing to monstrous proportions, so I'm going to stop here. In conclusion: You are made of awesome. Thank you for writing this story, and sharing it. Reading it was a truly amazing experience.

Happy new year, btw:)

[quarterwhore.livejournal.com]

I can't see what I'm typing 'cause I'm crying so hard! *blows nose messily* Eww.

Damn you. *loves you and hates you all at once* Thank you for giving them a happy ending though, even if it was hell for a while in the middle. I'm not sure I could have stood it any other way. I was so tempted to stop reading after Dean "died" but it was too late, I was sucked in. I kept hoping it wasn't true, but they had a body and his tags so I felt silly for hoping and OH. MY HEART. ♥

Hold me?

[4evernblue.livejournal.com]

OMG! That was the best stuff I've read in a while. It made me laugh, it made me cry... all around it was just about perfect.

[dreamlittleyo.livejournal.com]

Oh honey, this was beautiful! I've been meaning to read it for ages (it can't SERIOUSLY be time for big bang again already can it?), and have hated how far I've had to let my reading list fall by the wayside over the past semester. Meant to read three of my long-lusted-after big bangs before the semester started back up, but counting yours tonight I've only managed two. *sheepish grin* But I'm glad, SO GLAD, I got a chance to read this one finally. LOVELY work, my dear, and I'm so glad they got a happy ending! Sam's grief just about tore me apart, and you did such a lovely job with their reunion, and a BEAUTIFUL piece all around.

Thank you for a lovely read, my dear!

[elektrik-storm.livejournal.com]

absolutely epic! this was so perfect! I just loved the backdrop of war for them . I'm a british history student so it was interesting to read how the war affected the more rural areas of America. Not to mention, it was hot fic!

Friended you because of the awesomeness and I hope to read more!

[balefully.livejournal.com]

OMG.

OMG I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY.

I am home sick from work today, and saw that you'd posted that little snip from this 'verse. And I was like LUCY, YOU HAVE A DAY OF SITTING IN BED AHEAD OF YOU! YOU SHOULD GO READ KIM'S BIG BANG!

SO I DID.

OMG OMG OMG BB IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND SCHMOOPY AND AMAZING AND IDEK. WHAT TO SAY. THEIR BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LOVE AND THE HAPPY ENDING. <333333! THEIR TENDER LOVE-MAKING IS JUST WHAT I HAVE BEEN CRAVING.

*_*!

[brigid-tanner.livejournal.com]

Wow. Read straight through and probably should have stopped to make comments on each chapter, but I couldn't wait to get to the next part. I enjoyed this so much. Cried when Dean left for boot camp, cried when Sam and Bobby got the telegraph, cried when Bobby died, cried when Sam found Dean again. Read "Coming Home" and realized I'd missed this. Spent a lot of tonight reading. It was wonderful.

[danaid-luv.livejournal.com]

I'm completely exhausted. This has been one of the heaviest reads I've had in a long time. The history & the anguish, just...all of it. You did a fantastic job, you have to know that, but I wanted to thank you for sharing this with us. I'll read it again some day, but for the sake of my heart, I might just wait a little while. *winks*

[emma-in-oz.livejournal.com]

Oh this is magnificent!

[pompeygirl27.livejournal.com]

I know I'm way behind the times, but I've finally had chance to start reading some of last year's Big Bang and yours just jumped out of the pile, because it's set in such an interesting time. Little did I know I would be reading one of the most poignantly beautiful and haunting stories I have found yet in the world of fanfic.

Thank you so much for sharing this. It is a wonderful evocative world you have woven. I have found myself constantly going back and rereading parts, especially that last section, several times over the last few days. I can't get the images out of my head, and it's your descriptive and effective writing that has put them there. Thank you, thank you. May you write many more timestamps and big bangs, et al.

I hope you don't mind me friending you so I don't miss anything you write in future, while I try and backtrack to read everything you've posted in the past! LOL

[hugemind.livejournal.com]

This was really, really amazing! ♥

[allydenise.livejournal.com]

Oh my god what a complete emotional ride. This is just simply beautiful. I've had this printed out to read for a while, but I had to prepare myself to be brave for it as I just knew it would break my heart! I've just finished reading it all and I just had to log on to comment. I can't tell you how much I've cried at this. My eyes are swollen so much and I'm a complete emo mess. You broke my heart and then mended it again in the most perfect way. A stunning piece of work, thank you. <3

[little-jenny25.livejournal.com]

I don't know what to say... Really... Oh, wait! I know!
It's the best fic I've read for a very long time.

[xiexiegirl.livejournal.com]

So I just sat down and read this all in one go and all I can say is...

Holy shit.

I was totally not crying, really. *attempts to subtly wipe tears away*

You killed me. I avoided this for ages because I was certain Dean wouldn't live... And then, well... then you did this. I just can't think of any words to properly explain how this fic makes me feel.

[locknkey.livejournal.com]

This was so amazing and my comments can't possibly say how good I thought it was. I loved the romance, I loved the fact that they were 'it' for each other.

Most of all I loved how this sucked me in with all the little details and I never wanted it to be over, even when it hurt - beautiful!

[mistyzeo.livejournal.com]

oh ggooodddddddd. ou_peachus just recced this again, and i am dying and weeping and loving you all at once. the whole time i sat here, flip-flopping between 'he's dead, see body' and 'can't be dead! nooo!' and oh god, there were just so many sadhappy tears. the whole thing is so powerful, so elegantly done, so romantic and sexy and sweet and wonderful. the art is AMAZING (although right now the pictures aren't showing up in the fic), and it just comes together to be one gigantic FABULOUS fic.

basically you rock, the end. guh.

[fantasaria.livejournal.com]

This is wonderful. I was sure Dean wasn't dead but you still had me welling up a few times cause it was just so sad that Sam thought he was. I really enjoyed Sam and Dean's young love at the beginning, and the ending was so hopeful that I don't mind at all that there's no gratuitous reunited sex (and I'm usually all about the gratuitous sexing). And the part of me that's a huge sap loved that Dean never really loved anyone else, despite amnesia.

[applegeuse.livejournal.com]

This was so touching. I cried! I love it when fic makes me cry. I love it MORE when fic makes me cry and then ultimately has a happy ending, because I always want fics to have happy endings. Loved the historical aspect of this story: you wrote it very well, and really captured the feeling of the time. I also liked Sammy’s voice in the first few chapters, when he was younger; something about him was very sweet and touching, and I just wanted to wrap him up and keep him safe from the world. What a great romance story; thanks for writing it!

[sandycub.livejournal.com]

What an amazing ending! Finding Dean like that! That one of the only thing he remembbers is Sammy and that he really loved him. The picture of Dean and Sam going back to their farm to live!

Thank you so much for writing this! You are so very talented! I would love to read more of your writing!

Sandy

[holy-juice.livejournal.com]

This was so heartbreaking! I was close to tears and that's the first time that's ever happened with fanfiction. And the end... it was a nice touch. :) Wonderful

[hanyou-sensei.livejournal.com]

Damn. This story is fucking epic. It broke my heart and it gave me such pleasure!

i adored the sweet uncertainty of Sam in the beginning. i love the confidence he has in their relationship when it finally comes. Sam's voice is amazing in this story. It endears Sam. The thrill of falling in love, and the joy of spending time with the first love. It makes me remember falling in love, makes me remember the fear of being discovered and the rush of pleasure that came with the return of feelings. It's a magical thing, and the prose, your talent, you captured it beautifully!

i love the way he faithfully believes in Dean, even when Dean isn't so sure of himself. Sam loves Dean. And there's no question that Dean loves Sam. But i love the way he's trying to protect Sam, even from himself. The time they lived in wasn't friendly to homosexuality. And Dean understood that, he accepted that, and he wanted to protect Sam from any kind of hatred that might fall on him because of it. Sam didn't always see it, which was good, his poor obliviousness. He just wants Dean. And Dean, in his insecurity, is perfect. You managed to capture just the right mix of Dean's cocky attitude and his private self-consciousness that he doesn't ever show anyone.

I love that you took they're sexual relationship slowly. Don't get me wrong. The sex was delicious and hot. But i liked that you were slow to get it there for them. They're boys, in an era when masculinity and femininity are touted. And they both have the hang-ups that come with that, Dean moreso than Sam, but it's still a hangup. And it wasn't like they had a lot of experience talking to other gay men who would give them advice. The slow progression is realistic, and it's beautiful. It's what makes the sexual bits so much more important. So much more meaningful.

i love that it was careful between them both. i love the way they worked together. This goes along with the sex thing. They were careful to protect each other and themselves. They didn't want to bring Bobby's wrath down on them, and they didn't want to make the townsfolk have anything to ostracize them. They're careful to maintain the expected facade, but they move the relationship on. It's beautiful.

i love the way that you broke my heart with the war (even though i knew it was coming). It was something that was beautifully brought around. It was carefully handled, and it was respectfully dealt with. Which is incredibly appreciated. That the boys sent each other letters, that was so perfect. i enjoyed reading them, especially the different voices in the letters- Sam's was more carefully thought out. Dean's was quick and dirty, enough time to get his words down and get the letters out, just to make sure that Sam didn't go without.

...

[hanyou-sensei.livejournal.com]

And i loved and hated you when he was KIA- i cried, which happens very rarely. Oh the telegram. i knew it was coming. i knew it would, but damned if it didn't blindside me anyway. It was so perfectly spartan from the Army, and so powerful for Sam. That he broke the wood, God i could feel his pain. It was perfect. You handled it perfectly. Magnificently. i had to stop reading after that chapter, but i came back.

i love the way you wrote Sam continuing on, hard and slow and broken, but so real. Sam, oh Sam. Dean was the only man he'd ever love. And you wrote his broken heart perfectly. He wanted Dean, needed Dean, but he couldn't have him. And he had to learn to live again without Dean there. Yes, when Dean enlisted he had to learn to live without Dean, but there was the hope that Dean would come home. So it was simply adjusting to life with Dean out- like to work. With him dead, Sam had to learn to breath and think and exist again. And his careful return to life was beautiful.

i love Uncle Bobby. He was the perfect mix of careful nurturing and discipline. He put expectations down, and he wanted them catered to. The fact that boys, even when being petulant obeyed and did what he needed doing, that speaks wonders to the love and the respect that the boys had for him. It's also incredibly faithful to the character in the show. He's gruff enough to maintain the needed distance, but lovable enough to keep the boys coming back, and they needed that. And Bobby knowing about the boys but refusing to out them, even to themselves, is bittersweet. His unwavering support of Sam is monumental, and perfect. When he died, i cried for him a bit. He was so perfectly written! i loved him so much!

i love Sam's resolve to carry on.

i love the end. i was so very hopeful and praying that Dean would be in Europe. And i was so glad that he was. i love that, even though he doesn't remember the finer details, he remembered the core of who he was. Even without his memories, he couldn't love Greta. Even without his memories, he was a farmer, and a damned good one. And the reputation is how Sam got back to his heart.

It was a satisfying read. It was heartbreaking, but it was incredibly satisfying. Thank you for writing this, and writing it so carefully and thoughtfully. It was beautiful.