Tag for 11.10 Dean makes record time getting them home after the events of The Devil Is In The Details. All he wants to do is get his brother home and lock him safe inside the bunker after the last frankly traumatizing twelve hours. Dean wants to care for Sam, but is he up to it?
2-part Tag
COMFORT IN THE LITTLE THINGS
They were going to be alright.
That's what mattered.
Sam was alright...give or take a few punches landed by Lucifer.
Now whether he was alright mentally or not was the million dollar question. But he seemed alright sitting on the bench seat beside Dean calmly, almost sleepily even. Though there were nervous tremors in his hands where they lay clasped in his lap, and a frightened manner to the way he eyes cut to the left or right occasionally.
It will take time for Sam to deal, to get over the mind numbing fear of being stuck in the cage with the devil. Dean's alright with that...everything takes time.
Right now they only need one thing. They need to get in the bunker and they need to shut the world out and turn their phones off for as long as their consciences will let them. They need to be surrounded by trusted walls and restful silence. They need some good, hearty food.
Dean needs to get his brother home. Get him safe, and locked away, find him some warm food and some meds and put him to bed for a long, healing sleep. That's what Dean needs, it's what he wants. His heart is breaking with the relief of having Sam safe and alive beside him in the impala. He doesn't know who he should thank but; THANK YOU.
Dean wants to keep his hand somewhere on his brother all the way home but has to content himself with a million lingering glances.
"Dude, I'm fine," Sam laughs tiredly, dimples making a welcome appearance.
Dean chuckles, "Just making sure you're there, man."
Sam smiles and looks down at his lap. He's so thankful to hear Dean say that. He knew Dean would never leave him in the cage to rot, but he'd expected a majorly pissed off brother to come and rescue him. How could he make Dean understand he had to to take the opportunity while it was his? He sighs, not looking forward to the argument over the who was right or wrong in this situation.
"Yeah, sorry about..." He trails off knowing Dean knows what he's saying.
Dean's smile falls, but as he looks at his brother's down cast face it sneaks its way back.
"Am I pissed?" He asks rhetorically, "Hell yes, Sam!" He says enthusiastically and Sam grimaces.
"But you had to take your chance," Dean goes on voice rumbling low, bending forward to look at the road and avoid looking at Sam. "I can understand that, and I respect that."
He looks over at his little brother who is looking at him with big, hurting eyes.
"That took a lot of guts, kid." He says softly.
Sam chokes back the sob of relief and blinks back the tears, Dean's praise warming him from the inside out.
"I'm not a kid," he returns, smiling and looking out his window to hide his emotion.
Dean heals him more with those few words then he ever would have with all his devotion and mother henning.
Baby comes to a graceful landing in the bunker's garage and Dean sighs with relief. He did it. He got Sam out of that frigging cage AGAIN, and he's got him home in one piece and he smiles, because he screws up a lot, but for the most Dean got the Sam part right...eventually.
He uncranks her and pockets the keys. Sam opens his door and groans as he pulls himself out of the car with a hand on the hood. Dean grabs Sam's jacket where it lays forgotten on the seat between them. He follows his brother, grunting a little as his sore muscles protest.
Dean shuts his door, reminding Sam that his is still open. He walks tiredly back to the impala where he shuts the door. He wanders back to Dean who is waiting for him by the door leading to the staircase.
"Pretty sore?" Dean asks, as the start their trek up into their lair.
"Yeah," Sam returns, "Nothing but the usual, forgot how damn strong arch angels are."
Dean laughs humorlessly.
"How bout you? You good?" Sam asks, as they top the stairs.
"Yeah," Dean returns easily, "A little sore, but yeah, damn arch Angels."
Truth be told Dean hadn't been feeling so hot long before he entered the cage with Lucifer. Cas had said the nasty nausea and vertigo would dissipate the farther away from the smiting site he got, and he'd been right. But it had never actually entirely gone away, and Dean was starting to get some pretty brutal cramps in his stomach, legs and down his arms.
Besides that there was something else. A disturbing relief that Amara wasn't gone, a regret that their conversation had not been finished. He NEEDED to know what she has in store, he had to know what it would be like if she won, what it would take to beat her.
And then the mark. Dean would never tell Sam, but when he saw it on her, he felt something twist inside him, not quite a longing, just an emptiness. An emptiness that was filled when he was with her. Dean is floating in his physical discomfort and disturbing thoughts as they walk through the hall.
Sam sighs deeply as they enter the library and looks around fondly.
"Was afraid I might never see this place again," he says, swallowing thickly. Dean smiles over at his brother, watching him drink their home in.
"Why don't you go grab a shower, and I'll make us something to eat?" He asks, plugging in his phone to charge and turning it off.
Sam pulls his hands over his prickly cheeks, "I'm beat, let's sleep and then eat."
"Oh no little brother," Dean laughs, "You're eating something. It doesn't matter to me if it's something warm and home made or from Mickey D's, either way I will shove it down your throat."
Sam glares, "The first then, jerk."
"Bitch," Dean returns, smiling sunnily. "Lemme hold your phone, Imma plug it in and turn it off."
"You don't need to babysit me, Dean." Sam grouses.
"You're gonna sleep more than six hours if I have to knock you out first," Dean decides, "Now give it here." He motions for the phone.
Sam realizes for the first time he doesn't have his jacket and pats down his jeans pockets. "Uh, musta left it in the car," he says, and turns to go back.
"Is it in your jacket?" Dean calls after him.
"Yeah," Sam answers, pausing.
"Here, I got it." He holds up the jacket and fishes the phone out of the pocket, plugs it in and turns it off. "You left it in the car," he explains as Sam retrieves piece of clothing where Dean left it on the table.
"Oh sorry," Sam says. Of course Dean got his jacket, he didn't even know he didn't anticipate the move. Dean was in over gear big brother mode, if Sam started undressing on the way to the shower Dean would probably trail him picking up the clothes after him, hell, would probably wash him himself if Sam let him. He smiles fondly.
"No problem," Dean answers, "Just grabbed it, go ahead and have a shower, I'll cook something up."
Sam runs his fingers through his hair and sighs resignedly, "Alright," he walks towards the doorway where the hall leads off towards their rooms.
"Oh and Dean?"
Dean looks up, "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Dean winks and makes off for the kitchen.
Dean finds makings for sandwiches in the fridge, so he coats some bread in mayo and mustard and sub sauce, layers on some cheese and ham, and then inserts them into the oven to toast. He lays out plates, tearing off some lettuce leaves and cutting a little tomato for Sam, after retrieving his secret pie stash from its place under an ancient bread box on the topmost shelf. (No one knew but Dean that there was ALWAYS at least ONE piece of pie under the dusty lid.)
Satisfied that they have a pretty good spread, Dean makes Sam a glass of ice water, and pulls the sandwiches from the oven. He pulls the top off of Sam's, strings of melted cheese stretching from it as he layers on the tomato and lettuce.
Dean grimaces, "What a perfect way to ruin a perfectly good sandwich." He says out loud, only for Sam to laugh at him as he comes in with a wet head and wearing sweats and a t-shirt.
"Dude, it's good," Sam says sitting down at the table where Dean has laid their plates and takes a long drink from the glass of water, "Have you ever actually tried it?"
"Yes," Dean says, making a believe-it-or-not face, "An experience I do not want to repeat." He grabs the pan with a hot pad and serves the sandwiches onto their plates. Sam takes his first bite groaning in appreciation.
"How about your face?" Dean asks, motioning to some bruising coming up dark on Sam's face. "Want some ice?"
"Nah," Sam says, taking another long drink, "Too late, won't do me any good."
"I'm getting you some meds," Dean says opening the drawer in the kitchen where they keep the home base array of medical supplies.
"What? Why?" Sam asks, watching his brother from the table.
"So you can tone down and have a good sleep is why," Dean returns, looking over his shoulder at him, with a couple of bottles in his hand.
"No," Sam says adamantly, "I'm not taking anything, Dean."
Dean sighs and turns to regard his brother with worried eyes. All he can think of is the days when Sam watched invisible things, entirely unaware that Dean himself was there. He remembers the brokenness in his heart when he left Sam in a medical hospital and raced to find his dying brother a cure. Dean knew first hand the danger and cruelty of mental sickness, he wouldn't watch Sam go down that path again.
"I'm fine, Dean." Sam says gently, staring him honestly in the eye, "I know what that felt like before and this is not that...sure I'm wound tight but...I was in hell with Lucifer for hours, it's gonna take a little bit of time."
Sam can tell from Dean's face he doesn't like it, but his brother respects his decision and puts the meds away. Sam watches as he puts a pot of water on to boil, and cocks his head curiously to the side.
"Dean, aren't you gonna eat?" Sam asks, having nearly inhaled his sandwich with the glass of water.
Oh sweet Sammy, Dean thinks, stomach rebelling even at the sight of Sam eating. He clears his throat to cover the moan of pain.
He sits down and grabs his sandwich, taking a hesitant bite. Ugh, as bad as he thought. And he can't decide if it's the bitterness of the nausea in his stomach or the lack of Amara's soulful presence that has taken the taste from his mouth and replaced it with ashes.
Sam watches him for a moment, "Are you alright, Dean?" He asks.
"Yeah," Dean answers, "Just not really in the mood for a sandwich right now." He puts the food down and instead opens the container that holds the pie.
"Dude, your like freakin Houdini with pie," Sam laughs, and Dean watches with warmth growing in his heart as tension and fear fades from his brother's face and frame like a quick summer thunder storm. The smile he gets as he serves Sam a piece is like a rainbow heralding the end of cloudy weather..
Sam goes slower with his pie and watches as Dean pours the boiling water over a tea bag in a big mug.
"So what about the darkness?" He asks, "You saw her?"
"Yeah," Dean answers, "Right before the smiting happened."
When his brother doesn't elaborate Sam goes on, "What did she say?"
Dean shakes his head and shrugs placing the hot pot in the sink, "Destiny, same old shit. I swear, they're all the same. These power crazy, world ruining...freaks, it's like talking to Michael all over again, and with you talking to Lucifer kind of feels like deja vu."
He laughs humorlessly and walks back to the mug of tea, swirling the tea bag around.
Sam looks up sharply, pausing with a forkful of pie halfway to his mouth, "What do you mean, like Michael?"
"Uhhhh," Dean back tracks, "Just that she was MEANT to be released and we were MEANT to release her and all that crap...like I said same old shit."
Sam nods thoughtfully, "Looks like we're up to our same old tricks, screwing destiny right in the face?"
Dean laughs, "Yeah, yeah we are."
Sam sighs, leaning back from his plate, and rubbing a hand down his belly, "God, that was good, glad you convinced me to eat."
"Big brother knows best," Dean winks back at his brother as he pulls the tea bag from the cup and stirs in a little sugar, followed by some milk.
Sam laughs, watching his big brother quizzically, "Why are you making tea?"
Dean picks up the mug while stirring and walks towards Sam. "It has relaxant properties." He sets it down in front of Sam, "Drink up."
"For me?" Sam looks surprised.
"Yes, for you, drink up."
"I'm not..."
"Sammy," Dean interrupts, speaking firmly, but keeping his voice soft. "You've calmed down a lot since we left hell, but don't underestimate what you just went through. I could hang my shirts up on the line of tension between you shoulders. Drink it, it'll help you gear down."
Sam looks down. He should have known his brother would notice. He had calmed down a lot, Dean had helped a ton. He felt secure and safe enough to sleep all thanks to Dean. He was clean and full thanks to Dean too. His brother knew him, probably better than Sam knew himself. And Sam knew all about the relaxing properties of tea, it was supposed to help.
Sam drinks the tea.
Dean cleans up after their supper, and throws away the sandwich he didn't eat, feeling like the one bite he swallowed was going to make an appearance just holding the food in his hands. As he leans down to open the trash can lid, dizziness hits him hard. He catches himself against the wall with a hand and stands up straight with eyes screwed shut.
He hears Sam slurp down the last of the tea and thump the mug down on the table. He swallows and forces himself to open his eyes and turn around. Things even out and come back into focus even as he makes his way back across the room to grab the mug and wash it.
"If I'm awake all night peeing, I'm waking you up too." Sam threatens without much heat.
Dean is too busy at the sink, swallowing vomit down to respond.
"You alright there, Dean?" Sam asks, standing and coming a little closer.
Dean turns and smiles, "Yeah I'm fine, you ready for bed?"
"Yeah," Sam yawns. Dean follows him out, turning off the light in the kitchen behind them. They make their way to Sam's room where Dean follows him in. Sam brushes his teeth and uses the bathroom, he comes out to find his bed pulled back and Dean sitting at the foot of it.
"Dean?" He questions, ducking to get a look in his brother's down cast face. "You sure you alright?"
Dean flashes him a grin, "Of course, I just wanted...I just..." He trails off looking a little lost.
Sam smiles fondly, "Dean I'm right here, you got me out."
Dean nods and grins cockily, "Of course I did."
Sam shakes his head and climbs into bed laughing at Dean trying to follow his no chick flick moments rule after failing so miserably.
He stretches out, pushing his feet up under the covers over towards the opposite side of the bed since the mattress was too short for him. Dean doesn't rise, just sits there. Silence reigns for a few companionable moments.
"What are we gonna do now?" Sam asks quietly. "What are we going to do about Amara, Dean?"
Dean sighs and looks over at Sam with an unusually honest expression on his face. Sam can see it all there...the fear, the relief...the exhaustion. The need for and satisfaction Sam is still there with him.
"You know what Sam?" He asks, spreading his hand over the bed spread in a absent minded motion, "I don't know. And right now I don't really care. All I know is we did our best today...we gave EVERYTHING, we gave more than anyone should ever have to give. And we still failed, so I'm just gonna take these few moments here and just take comfort in the little things.
"You're outta that damn cage, hell, I'm still alive...I got you and Baby and...pie. So...tonight I don't know, but I don't care."
Sam sighs and smiles up at his brother where his head lays on the pillow, "You're right, and me too, y'know Dean. I feel pretty damn lucky to be here with you too. The darkness scares me man, probably scares me the way Lucifer scares you...scares me how she seems to creep towards you when I'm not there to have you're back. But you're right, we can't do anything about that tonight so...love ya, jerk."
And oh god, how Sam really does love him. Loves him so that it aches when he thinks of the mark that used to mar his brother's skin. He fought so hard to free Dean from that curse, the curse he had willingly taken when Sam had been busy pouting and wasn't there to dissuade him. And now Amara haunted Dean, he could see it in his brother's eyes, and there were times when they were out, he could feel Dean tense like she was close.
It was the burden Sam bore that the cure for his brother might also be his end. And Sam thought he had hated Crowley, but the soul eating disgust he felt for the darkness was a million times stronger. He hated the way he came up on the tail end of things, he honestly didn't know what the state of things were between his brother and Amara...but he did know Dean was still with him. And he had no doubt Dean would always choose him, no matter how great the temptation.
Dean swallows and looks away from him and at the floor. Sam thinks he sees a tear sparkling in his eye...maybe. He knows the whole day was probably highly traumatic for Dean, and his heart bleeds a little for his big brother knowing the pain he'd put him through by going to hell alone. He can't even imagine the mental stress Dean had been under after he found out he was stuck in the cage WITH LUCIFER.
Dean rises, and smiles fondly as he tosses the comforter over Sam. "Love you too, bitch."
Dean flips off the light and walks through the door, reaching to shut it behind him.
"Did you just put me to bed?" Sam asks, with a sly smile.
"Shaddup."
tbc..
PLEASE REVIEW
thank you
The first half of this Fic is how I imagine Dean would want to look after Sam after the cage, the second part will be dealing with Dean's obviously growing worse smiting sickness...