Can't Quite Make it Alone
Okay, so I had a qualm with 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' and it was the fact that I didn't get to see Sam's aftermath of Dean's death. Yes, I saw him get drunk and try to make a deal and I saw him do… stuff… with Ruby. Holy inappropriate. I thought that a better episode would've been them explaining how Dean ended up one state away from where he died. I thought that Sam was going to become John—meticulous, detached, and OCD, like he was in 'Mystery Spot.' But we didn't see that. I guess the Trickster's lesson didn't take. Oh well, here is what I wanted to see in the episode.
Summary: There was no thunder and no lightning. No indication that the universe cared that one of its fighters for the side of good had died.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea behind this story. The title of this story comes from 'Learn to Fly' by the Foo Fighters.
Italic is flashback
Bobby expected the ground to shake, or the world to stop spinning the moment it happened. He wanted something divine to occur. He wanted someone else besides himself and Sam to feel it when Dean died.
There was no thunder and no lightning. No indication that the universe cared that one of its fighters for the side of good had died.
He didn't need a clock ringing at the stroke of midnight to tell him that Dean was dead. He felt it in his heart. He felt the moment Dean's soul was torn from his body and dragged into Hell. It felt like someone had torn his heart out from his chest and blown it up in front of him with a stick of dynamite. It hurt to breathe. He didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing that he didn't see Dean die. It was a lose-lose situation to him either way.
He saw the bodies that were possessed fall to the ground either dead or unconscious. He didn't care to check.
Day one without Dean Winchester in his life.
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The next day, Bobby followed the Impala in his Chevelle as they drove somewhere. Away. He needed to get away. He needed to get out of New Harmony, Indiana.
He tried to forget that Dean was dead in the backseat of the Impala in front of him, wrapped in a blanket that would never be able to give the cold body warmth.
In the solitude and privacy of his car, Bobby shed a tear for the son he just lost.
He wiped it away and continued to drive, keeping close to the car. He knew he had to stay close because he didn't trust Sam's state of mind. If given the chance to run, then Sam would've driven away without a second thought.
He remembered the conversations that he had with the youngest, and now only, Winchester boy over Dean's body.
"Sam, we have to go."
"I can't."
"Sam."
"I can't leave him, Bobby."
"Sam, we have to leave."
"No. Lilith won't come back."
"You don't know that. We need to get out of here if I have to drag you out by your legs."
"Bobby. What about Dean?"
"He would want you to leave."
"I'm not leaving him!"
"Then wrap up his body and put him in the car so we can go."
He hated sounding so cold and detached especially since he was everything but. But he knew he had to be. Especially if he was going to survive this loss.
So, he drove, tailing the Impala who was racing.
They drove down a road that seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere.
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After taking a turn off of an empty road, they stopped at an empty area surrounded by a circle of trees. Sam stopped the Impala and Bobby did the same thing to his Chevelle, but he parked it so that Sam wouldn't be able to drive out the same way they came in. Sam jumped out of the car and Bobby did the same thing. It was the first time they had actually seen each other face to face since Dean died. "Move your car, Bobby."
"No. Give me your keys."
"No."
"Give me your damn keys, boy!" Bobby yelled.
Sam stared at his keys, trying to see any other choices he had. Sam tossed the keys to Bobby. "Why?"
"We are burying Dean. Here."
"I am not going to bury my brother."
"So, you're just going to drive around with a dead body in the back of your car."
"Bobby, I need to save him!" Sam yelled. "Just give me the keys, Bobby. Please," he pleaded.
"Sam, we have to. We're breaking all kinds of code right now by not burning him."
"He needs a body to come back to."
"That's why you're staying here with the body." He held up Sam's keys and shook them. "I'm taking these because that way, I know you won't leave."
"If I wanted to, I could hotwire the car," Sam said.
Bobby walked over to the engine of the Impala and popped the hood. He took out a piece of the engine and held it out to Sam. "That's why I'm taking this too. I'll be back in a few hours."
"Where are you going?"
"Stay with your brother," Bobby said.
He jumped into the Chevelle and drove off, leaving the Winchester brothers stranded.
Bobby returned about two hours later with pieces of wood strapped to the top of his car. "What is that?" Sam asked.
"Wood and tools I stole from someone's barn," Bobby said.
"What are you going to do with that?"
"We have to bury him," Bobby said.
"I can't."
"If you can't do it, then I'll—"
"No, I have to be the one to do it. I'll do it, Bobby. I just… I can't bury my brother," Sam whispered.
"I know, son. But it has to be done. You can't just keep driving around with a dead body in the back of your car."
"But when I get him back, he'll be underground. And all alone."
Bobby looked to front of the Impala. Sam had set Dean down there with his jacket wrapped around him. "Sam," Bobby started. "I don't want to seem like a heartless SOB, but it has to be done. You know it has to be done."
"I know."
"Will you be all right?"
"No, but I'll get the job done." Sam walked to the trunk of the Impala and popped it. He grabbed a shovel and walked to the center the clearing. He stuck the shovel into the ground and started digging.
Bobby looked away and started to unload the supplies from his car. He spent the rest day doing what he needed to do. In silence.
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For Bobby, it was the worst feeling in the world building a coffin for someone he considered a son, but he knew it was nothing compared to digging a hole, a grave, for a brother. Someone that he'd known all his life. Who he looked up to. The person who took care of him. Who raised him. Who was now in Hell because of him.
He couldn't even look at Sam as they worked, Sam dug while Bobby finished up the box. Dean was off to the side with his jacket covering him. At some point in the day, Sam pulled it over his face, unable to look at it any more.
It would've been so much easier if they just burned him. But he knew that Sam wouldn't let him. He knew it. Sam would've fought him to Hell and back just to keep his brother's body as it was.
"I'm done," Sam whispered. Bobby looked up from his work area and saw Sam climbing out of the hole in the ground. It wasn't the normal six foot grave, but it wasn't going to be a shallow grave either. "If we don't get to him in time, I don't want him to have to dig very far."
"Sam," Bobby said, his heart breaking.
"Just finish the box, Bobby," Sam said.
Bobby nodded. He knew that the longer it took for them to bury Dean, the harder it would be for either of them to let go. "Okay." Bobby finished the last hammering the last few pieces of the box together.
An hour later, the box was finished. Sam had popped the hood of the Impala and tried to put back the piece that Bobby had removed. It didn't go well, because Bobby knew more about cars than Sam was able to learn in a few months. "Sam," Bobby said.
"I know, Bobby."
Bobby dragged the box to the hole that Sam built. "Sam." He looked to the youngest Winchester and saw that he hadn't moved from his position over his brother. Bobby walked over pulled off the blanket and jacket covering him. He bent down to pick up Dean.
"Don't." Sam knelt down and picked up his brother. "I'm sorry," Sam whispered. He put his brother down and gently lowered him into the box. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I promise I'll find a way to fix this. I swear."
"Sam."
He looked up and saw Bobby standing over him with the lid. "Okay." Sam stood up and backed away from the box.
Bobby threw down the lid and knelt down. His hand went to his mouth as he sobbed. He said nothing, not that his throat allowed him to do so. He grabbed Dean's cold hand and held it in his own, mouthing the words, 'I'm sorry' over and over, hoping that it would help him forgive himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his lighter. He put it in Dean's hand and closed his fingers around it. He put Dean's hand to Dean's chest. "I'm sorry, son," he was finally able to choke out.
He ran his hand down his face, wiping away the tears, which only cleared the path for more to fall down. He bent down, grabbed the lid, and covered the box. He grabbed the nails and hammer from his pocket and got ready to drive one nail in.
"No!" Sam said. Bobby dropped the nails and hammer on the lid before blocking Sam from the coffin. "I can't leave him down there, Bobby."
"Sam, stop it." Bobby knew that he was no match for Sam, but he needed give Dean a proper burial. "We have to bury him. We can't just keep driving around with Dean in the back seat. We have to give him the burial he deserves."
"He shouldn't be dead!"
"I know. But he is. And we can't do anything about that now. Now, are you going to help me?"
Sam walked to the Impala and popped the trunk. He pulled out a hammer. The two of them worked long after the sun went down.
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Sam built a cross and stabbed it into the ground above his brother's grave. Instead of getting up immediately, he leaned against the weak wood. Bobby watched as Sam's body shook on the ground. "Sam," Bobby whispered.
"I failed, Bobby," Sam whispered.
"Don't say that, son," Bobby replied.
"I did. I couldn't save him. And now he's probably in Hell suffering by the hands of all the demons he sent back."
"Let me take you home, son," Bobby said, pulling Sam off of Dean's grave.
"Home?" Bobby knew that there was no home for Sam without Dean.
"Sam. Come on. Dean wouldn't want—"
Sam yanked his arm out of Bobby's grasp. "Dean wouldn't want what, Bobby?" Sam yelled. "Because as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter what he wants anymore because he's dead." Sam paused and took a step back. "My God," he said, cupping a hand over his mouth. "Dean is dead. He's really dead."
Bobby grabbed Sam by the arm again, this time gently, not wanting to scare Sam off. "Let me drive you home."
Sam yanked his arm out of Bobby's grasp. It wasn't rough enough to throw the man across the woods, but it was strong enough to show that he didn't want to be touched at the moment. "I can drive," he whispered.
"No, you can't," Bobby said adamantly. He was about to pull rank.
"Just let me go," Sam said.
"No!" Bobby yelled. "Because you are all that I have left."
"I'll meet up with you later, Bobby," Sam said, wiping the tears from his face.
"You will not look for Lilith. That's suicide."
"I won't."
"You are not going to make a deal," Bobby said. He knew the boys. They were predictable. He knew that if Sam wasn't going after Lilith, then he was going make a deal. He knew that the Winchesters would sell their souls over and over again for each other.
"He doesn't deserve to be down there."
"And you would rather have him up here while you're down there in his place?"
"I'm part demon. They probably already have a space for me in Hell."
"Do not talk like that, Sam."
"It's the truth, Bobby."
Bobby saw it in Sam's eyes. Something in him changed. He could see the walls going up and the emotions turning off. He looked like his father.
Bobby shook his head, knowing that nothing he could say would ever make Sam or the situation all right. He walked over to the engine of the Impala and looked over the mess that Sam made. He walked to his Chevelle and pulled the toolbox out of the passenger seat. Half an hour later, the engine was back in working condition. "Let's go," Bobby said, tossing Sam the keys.
"Where are we going?"
"Sam, we're going to a motel and get some shuteye. Then we're going to my house and we're going to try and figure this out. And it wasn't a suggestion."
Sam's fingers closed tightly around the keys. "Okay, Bobby."
Bobby jumped into his car before Sam got into his. The elder hunter started up the car and waited for Sam to do the same. He was waiting for almost five minutes before he heard the familiar purr of the Impala. Sam drove out of the clearing first with Bobby close behind.
The two of them drove for nearly three hours before they got to a motel that looked reasonable enough. Bobby got them one room with two queens. The two of them got into the room, and Bobby locked the door while Sam drew salt lines all over the room. Bobby threw down his bag, claiming the bed closest to the door as his. "I'm going to clean up," Bobby said. It had been days since either of them had seen any form of clean water.
"Okay," Sam said, taking out all of his things and laying them out on his bed in a precise fashion. He lined up all of his weapons in a row.
"Sam, please be here when I get out."
"I will, Bobby," Sam said. He picked up one of his guns and took it apart. He sat down in one of his chairs and began cleaning it.
Bobby went into the bathroom and turned on the water. He wanted to wash all of it away. The dirt, the memories, the pain.
He succeeded in only one of the three.
When he got out, Sam was in the same position only he had a different gun in his hand. "Are you going to shower?" Bobby asked.
"After I'm done cleaning this gun," Sam said, in a monotone voice.
Bobby didn't push. He moved his bag off of his bed and laid down. He was exhausted. He hadn't been eating or sleeping right for the past few weeks, and it was finally catching up with him. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He listened to the sounds of Sam taking putting together and taking apart another gun. He waited for the sound of the shower to start.
He never heard it.
It had been five days since Dean died.
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Bobby woke up the next day when the sun peaked out of the horizon and the rays touched his face. He was almost disgusted at how easily the world continued to spin. He looked over, hoping to see Sam lying down in the neighboring bed, but saw no one. Somehow, he wasn't surprised.
The bed didn't look slept in at all. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. He hoped that the Impala would still be sitting next to his Chevelle. He knew he was hoping for too much.
He checked out of the motel that he found out was already paid for and he began his long drive back to South Dakota.
He needed a drink. Or two. Or ten. He wanted to drown in it.
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Bobby sat in his study. He was surrounded by books, but none of them were open. He'd get to them as soon as he was able. The only things that were open was the empty and soon-to-be empty bottles of alcohol. The drink of choice today was whiskey.
He tried calling Sam at least half a dozen times, but he got no answer. He didn't expect one.
Dean had been dead for seven days. One week.
Dean died by the hands of Lilith and her hellhounds. The only people that cared about Dean besides him and Sam were already dead. The worst part about it is that he wouldn't even be able to see them in death. He didn't deserve it.
That was seven days ago. At least that's what the calendar told him. His body told him that it was a lifetime ago. He felt like he hadn't slept since then.
It was going to be a hard rest of his life. Alone.
Okay, so here it is. This is what I would've liked to see in episode 4x9. Well, a little of it. Honestly, I've been trying to finish this story for a long, long time. I kept getting blocked. I can say that I'm happy with most of this story. I guess this is part of my usual pre-birthday post. I turn 21 this week. Yay!!! I hope that it turned out all right. Thanks for reading. Please review. Lil-Rock