Life in Black and White

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Get no money from them. Still Kripke's.

A/N: I wrote this and posted it elsewhere not long after WIAWSNB aired. It was originally a one shot, but this episode just wouldn't leave me alone. You can blame Jensen and his amazing performance. The second part isn't truly a continuation though it does somewhat reference this part. I was asked to post the second chapter here, so thought I might as well post this part too. I will post the second part on Sunday.

Here, then, is the first part/kick at the can…

Life in Black and White

Dean pushed himself off the dresser. He was just too tired talk about it anymore. Probably just the blood loss talking. He rubbed his chest to try to dissipate the sharp pain that didn't seem to want to go away. He knew from first hand experience that he wasn't having a heart attack. Well, he was sure enough although it was a little hard to separate the heart attack from the electrocution.

"Get your stuff together Sammy. I want to get out of here." Dean's voice was flat and quiet.

"Dean, why don't we stay for another night? You still look like shit. Hell, by all rights you should probably be in the hospital too."

Dean laughed without any humour leaching into it. "Not an option little bro, and you know it. Look, we were just waiting to make sure the girl was going to be ok, right? Now we know, let's just go. We already know the cops like this motel. We don't have to go far – just … out of here."

Sam noticed the urgency start to creep into Dean's voice. He'd never seen his brother look so sad. Not even after Dad died. Sam knew now why Dean hadn't been able to show how he felt after Dad died. He'd been too confused by the guilt and anger mixed in with the grief to deal with it then. Sam would have preferred that Dean rest, but he also understood his brother's need to deal with his emotions behind the wheel of his Impala.

"Ok. But just a couple of hours on the road Dean, and then we're stopping at the first place we find."

"Pull over Dean. I'm starving."

They'd been on the road for about an hour when a decent looking truck stop came into view. Dean reluctantly pulled the Impala over. He knew that food was the furthest thing from his mind, but Sammy had to eat. They strolled into the diner and chose a booth towards the back, by a side door, where they could still see the entrance from the highway. The exits were covered, but they weren't immediately visible sitting in their booth. It wasn't easy being fugitives, and Sam was slightly disturbed by how easily they were able to adapt their hunting training to this new and unwanted aspect of their lives. The usual pretty waitress strolled over to their table. Sam had noticed that regardless of how many waitresses a place had, they always seemed to get the prettiest one. And Dean always flirted with her.

"What can I get for you boys?" she had that winning waitress smile.

"Um, coffee and the menu. Dean?" No reaction from his brother who was looking out the window but seemed at least a million miles away.

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean's voice was quiet. Sam expected him to snap back at him and almost flinched at his mild reply.

"What do you want?"

"Coffee." He didn't look away from the window.

Dean knew that there'd be no living with Sam if he didn't eat, but he couldn't find any enthusiasm for it. His mother had made him his last sandwich, and he'd eaten his last cheeseburger with Carmen.

"Just order me some soup if she gets back before me," Dean said and wandered back towards the bathroom. Sam watched his brother walk away. Damn. As annoying as happyDean could be, Sam had just gotten used to really having his brother back. They'd had to endure life in Hollywood and prison, but Dean had been, well, Dean again. Impervious. Focused. Buoyant. Flippant. Dangerous. All the things he could be that made him the best big brother. Ever.

Dean didn't have any pressing reason to visit the bathroom, he just needed a little space to catch his breath. He splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection. Sam was right. He did look like shit. God. He couldn't even face having to decide what to eat. It was easier to take orders. He missed his Dad giving them. It was the one burden he didn't have growing up. Sure, he'd had to look out for Sam and his Dad too, but he hadn't had to make the big decisions. Maybe Sam was right. Being a soldier didn't prepare you for everything. Like dreams. He'd royally screwed that up. Too much free will involved in dreams.

All his dreams had lain in his past. A past he now knew was dead. Guess they were right – you really couldn't go home. How screwed up was he that even his dreams were flawed. It's not like the Djinn screwed it up. All it did was put him to sleep; his subconscious, or whatever, had done the rest. But his dreams were tainted by the way he'd been raised. You could take the hunter out of the hunt, but you couldn't take the hunt out of the hunter. All his life, it had been drilled into him. Others first, you last. And Dean believed it. Sam would be getting worried. Dean sighed and left the bathroom.

Their meal came in due time. The waitress placed Sam's dinner in front of him and a bowl of soup and BLT sandwich in front of Dean. Sam was completely unprepared for Dean's reaction.

"What the HELL is THIS! I said SOUP, Sam. How the hell hard is that!"

"Jesus, Dean. It came with a sandwich. I thought BLT was your favourite. If you're not that hungry, just don't eat it." Sam frowned – just a narrowing of his eyes as he considered his brother. He also nervously scanned the room. They really couldn't afford to make a scene.

"Hey!" Dean called the waitress back. She'd been trying to make a strategic retreat. "Hey! Take this away." Dean waved at the sandwich. The waitress quickly grabbed the offending plate, shooting an apologetic look at Sam.

"Sorry. It's not your fault," Sam attempted to make her feel better.

Dean ignored the waitress and played with his soup. Sam ate his chicken dinner and noticed Dean playing with his soup. And Sam knew then, if he hadn't before, how devastated Dean was. Dean didn't eat only when he was truly on a downward spiral. HappyDean ate. UnhappyDean didn't. They finished their meal in silence and got back on the road.

Sam was grateful that Dean had shared as much with him as he had about his dream world, but now, Sam knew that Dean needed time to deal with everything that had happened to him. That was why he hadn't said anything about Dean not eating. That was why he hadn't pressed for further details. He would wait and bide his time. When Dean was ready to talk, he would, and Sam would be there to listen. Sam knew that it wasn't that Dean didn't value his input. But Dean always needed time to assess the situation. If they were hunting something, Dean could make lightening speed decisions that always seemed to be right, but when he could, he really did like to have time to examine events from all sides.

So, they drove, and Dean thought. Not that he really wanted to think right now. He missed the bright colours. He missed the smells. He missed his mother's touch. Another stabbing pain pierced his heart. But it hadn't been the perfect vision of home. For starters, Dad was dead there too. Sure he'd died peacefully in his sleep, but dead was dead, and Dean hadn't got to have the complete family experience. Life in munchkinland or the Emerald City or wherever the hell he'd been, wasn't perfect. What would he have said to his Dad's face he wondered. Well, if he was honest with himself, he probably would have still been mad as hell at him. Talking to his tombstone was fitting. He'd gotten the usual Winchester stoic silence after all. Why were Sam and his mother forced to sacrifice their happiness for people they didn't even know? Dean hadn't considered his own sacrifices then, and even in reflection didn't acknowledge that maybe he was important too.

His mind wandered back to the warehouse. What if, in addition to Jess offering him release from the burden of protecting Sam, and Carmen offering him unconditional love and a family all his own, and Mom offering him a safe life with no pain, and Sam offering him permission to stay – his conscience always – what if, Dad had offered him something too. Dean was pretty sure, really, 90 pretty sure, that if his Dad had asked him to stay, he probably would have. But Dad wasn't there because Dad would never have belonged to a baseball team. Dad would never have let him be weak. Dad would have never let him put himself first. 'Cuz Dad hadn't allowed those things for himself.

So he'd dragged himself back over the rainbow and his first sensation was pain. And danger. And fear for Sam. But this was his Sam. The Sam that he had mostly raised. Who was his brother and his best friend and his whole world. Dean didn't know what the future held, and he didn't know how to dream anymore.

He'd followed the yellow brick road – God, how he hated that colour. There'd even been munchkins – well one anyway, with a red hat. But in the end, he'd come back for the same reason as Dorothy. And it was snoring gently in the bed beside him.

A/N2: On re-reading this I'm not sure how well it stands up. It was still an early attempt for me. Please leave a review?? runs and hides