Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam.
It sounds familiar, because it's always been this way.
They are like two sides of a coin, and yet not. Different, but the same. Same but different. Yin and yang, back and front, light and dark, though it's hard to tell sometimes anymore which is which. Not because they are the same, but because they are different. The more things change, the more they stay the same, and yet they don't. Things change, they've changed, sometimes their roles are reversed when they least expect it.
Some things never change.
They're still two halves of a whole, a team, a pair, complementing. A good team. Back and forth, fitting into each other's white space like two pieces of a puzzle, like a puzzle with only two pieces. Not twins, not identical, never that. Brothers.
Sam's always been younger and he's always known they were different. He was different. He used to think that meant he didn't fit. He used to want to scream it, used to think it was the most important thing in the world that nobody knew, nobody could see but him.
Not like you, not like him--but now sometimes he wonders if only half of that was true. Sometimes, in his nightmares, he knows it.
But the things that don't change are, maybe, more important than the things that do. Still my brother, still got my back, still have all the answers and none of them, still waiting still watching still bleeding himself dry to help everyone else, Dad, me. Still die for you, I for you, you for me.
Still the same, still different, and the thing is, it's meant to be that way. It's how they fit, how they work, how they survive. It's what makes them stronger. You do your thing and I'll do mine, but together. Always together.
It's faith, it's belief, it's acceptance, it's absolution. It's right, and it doesn't have to change.
Sam used to think that the important thing was all the ways they're different, that it meant one of them was wrong, was a freak, an outsider. The truth is they're both right and they're both freaks and they're both outside everything else, and only inside together.
The truth is, it's only important because it means they need each other. Made for each other.
They're not the same, but it doesn't mean they don't fit. It doesn't mean they're pieces of a different puzzle, a different picture, at all. It's just that it's nobody else's puzzle but theirs. They are the only pieces to a single pattern. Yin and yang for serious, maybe, or just, still, two sides of a coin. Back to back, you and me, us against them, against the world.
Thing is, there's nothing missing here. He's not out of place, and he's only uncomfortable because the edges aren't rough. Him and Dean have always been rough, have always fought and grated and never quite meant or wanted or seen the same thing at the same time. It's never been smooth, never been easy, and that's one of the things that has changed, but it hasn't.
They still fight, they still bitch and smack each other and argue about damn near everything. They still make each other mad, still hurt each other, they're still the only ones who can. Nobody hurts my brother but me.
What's different, what's new and a little scary is the way Sam realises that underneath it all, this was always there. This, them, their own puzzle, their own picture, the seamless merging of edges into edges and it. just. fits. Perfectly, easily, smoothly with no gaps, no cracks, no hitches, nothing but me melting into you and this, this is where we belong. Where I belong.
It took leaving, took trying to find a place to fit somewhere else and failing, took going and coming back to see what Dean's always known, and he never saw.
They don't have to be the same to be a perfect match.