Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own. Just a little 'ol sandbox raider doing some borrowing.
AuthorNote: This is iamtryN's 6th Birthday present and an "I am sorry" to HotShow and others for dropping off the face of the planet... Thanks for the people that still read, fav and review. Love ya'll! P.S. I beta'd this myself so...
Not Good Enough
"Ya know… I was so happy to have mom back. I should have known Sammy. How could I have forgotten even for a second." Dean snapped angrily.
"Forgotten what, D?"
"The fucking other shoe." Dean said, slinging his tumbler of Jack into the bunker wall. He stormed out of the library toward the bedrooms. He was standing in their mom's bedroom when Sam found him. He was facing the bed, back to Sam. Dean sighed, he knew the moment his little brother entered the room.
"Dean, she'll come back." Sam told him softly.
"I don't think so." Dean stated flatly.
"D…"
"No, Sammy. I should never have…" Dean stopped, took in a shaky breath.
"Dean…"
Dean swirled around and yelled, "She's fucking mourning us, Sammy! We were standing right in front of her and it wasn't fucking good enough! She can't stand being with us!" Then he turned back and slugged the wall with a doubled-up fist. He slugged it again and hauled back to do it a third time when Sam grabbed his arm. Dean twisted, jerking his arm out of Sam's grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him.
Sam held up his hands in surrender as he told his brother, "I need to look at that hand, Dean. You're bleeding."
"Good." Dean snarled.
Sam, tilted his head to the side and puppy dog eyed him.
Dean sighed again.
Sam gave him a small smile and then dropped one hand using the other to gesture the after you signal.
Dean walked out without looking back.
Sam turned out the light and shut the door before he followed Dean. He knew this would be harder on Dean than him. Dean had now lost his mother a second time. She basically told them she was happy in Heaven with their dad and they had fucked it up.
Sam met Dean in the kitchen. Dropping the first aid kit on the table along with fresh towels, he reached for Dean's hand.
Dean sighed and silently placed his beaten hand in Sams'.
After a few minutes of the silence being broken only by an occasional hiss of pain, Sam finally cleared his throat and spoke, "Dean, I'm sorry."
"Shut up, Sam."
"If I could fix this for you I would."
"Sammy, please. Can we just NOT talk about her. Please… just…" Tears were making Dean's eyes glisten but they had yet to spill and his lower lip trembled.
Sam studied Dean's face before dropping his eyes back to Dean's hand as he nodded, "Sure Dean. I wonder if Cas found anything useful?"
Dean gave a grim smile and said, "I wonder…"
"There, all done. You sure screwed up your hand. I think you may have cracked a couple meta carpels." Sammy stood and started putting everything back into the kit and then returned it back to its normal place. He expected Dean to have made a run for it but to his surprise found him still sitting in the same spot.
"Dean, you…" He paused, asking if he was okay was just stupid so he changed it to, "You want to call Cas?"
"Naw, I think I'll go work on the Impala." He said, standing.
"What, with one hand? Don't get crap in those cuts! Ya know what..." Sam said quickly, "I'm coming with you."
"Sam… I just need a few minutes alone. I promise I'll be okay."
Sam nodded with a grim expression on his face.
"And so will Baby…"
At Sam's questioning look, Dean gave a hint of a smile, not his unusual light up the room one, but a cheap knockoff as he said, "No crowbars allowed in the garage, dude."
Sam shook his head and chuckled, two could play this game. Fake it until you make it. "Good policy, that one…"
Dean nodded and started to turn away.
"Oh, and Dean…"
"Yeah, Sammy?" He asked as he looked over his shoulder at Sam.
"I'll meet you out there in 30 with a bottle of our finest... jerk."
"See ya in 30, bitch."
The End