Jack + Sam after a millenia apart ( your choice how Sam lasts that long)
Sam has, frankly, no idea how long he’s been frozen. Or how desperately someone’s been trying to unfreeze him. He wasn’t aware of the long nights in the polar ice caves by lamplight. He had no idea that he was someone’s secret, let alone Jack’s, to be visited sometimes for months at a time at the frustration and expense of everyone else on the Torchwood team. For Sam, time stopped when the cruiser crashed. Time stopped in 2020, when he thought he’d given his life for the world and the world subsequently went dark with a cold twisting wrench.
The world was different when the light returned, when Jack unsealed the time-lock on the craft that was a regular safety installation by 4149. Never buy the even-numbered years, Jack said, and this time he’d been right; the little cruiser’s time-lock lasted ten more years than it ought. Ten years past the point where Jack should have reasonably given up on Sam Winchester.
Sam wouldn’t know any of this for another minute and a half. As soon as the time-lock collapsed, he crumpled, clinically dead as the crash should have left him. But Jack had waited ten years for him past his spoilage date, and Sam really shouldn’t have been surprised to know he wouldn’t leave things like that.
When he came to at last, Sam knew cold, and harsh halogen light on slick ice walls. Everything hurt. His chest felt like it did after the bar fight where they’d gotten him down; kicked him in the ribs with steel-toed boots. He gasped for air with lungs that hadn’t moved an inch in a thousand years.
Jack cradled his head and kissed his forehead and laughed into his hair.
“Sam?” Castiel asked softly at their side, and Sam squinted up.
