Disclaimer: Characters and anything recognizable in the following story are property of the CW, Eric Kripke and al. I am making no monetary gains from this, just written for fun.
Author's notes: Not much here, just a bit of perspective between brothers. Takes place just before Bloody Mary so there may be a few spoilers up until that eppy. Thanks to Muffy for the beta. I have more stories I'm working on, but taking time out for my course, it's taking me longer to write chapters. Scar Tissue took another curve on me and will be longer than planned. In the mean time I hope you enjoy the following offering.
Also this site wont allow me to format the way I usually do. So please forgive the bad formatting that follows. Ive tried to fix it but it just wont let me.
Of Wounds and Brothers
by infinite shadow
Dean limped down the almost nonexistent forest path. He was exhausted, bleeding from several shallow cuts and, after everything that had gone wrong, ready to commit fratricide.
"Dean."
"Shut it."
"Come on, man. It's not like..."
"Sammy," Dean growled much like the coyotes they'd encountered in the pre-dawn hours that morning as they both searched out prey. A headache was beginning to start behind his eyes and he rubbed at his temple, his fingers coming away wet and sticky.
"It's not like I did it on purpose."
Dean stopped short. He concentrated on taking one deep breath, well as deep as he could with what he figured was a fractured rib, and then another. "Dude. One more word. Just one and by the time you regain consciousness, I will be several states away."
"Dean," Sam huffed.
In a red haze he turned, grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and slammed him back two paces into the trunk of a tree.
"Hey!" Sam squeaked in surprise.
Dean blinked back the blood tainting his vision red. "I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. It. I don't want to hear your voice. I don't one to hear one more idea, comment or question or so help me..."
Sam looked wide eyed into his brothers. He opened his mouth, but as Dean's fists tightened in his shirt he snapped it shut and nodded.
Dean glared at him for another few seconds before letting go and walking back down the path, hearing his little brother close behind. But not too close.
Both of them were exhausted and hurt. Some minor cuts, some minor bruises that would appear by the time they were back at the motel. Dean figured as clearly as he could with his fuzzy vision and growing headache that the Impala was at least an hour away. He shivered as the sun was almost set and shook his head. Figured they might freeze before they made it back to his baby. "And isn't that just super," he mumbled along to his thoughts.
Dean stopped again, closed his eyes and searched for patience. Sam had fallen several strides behind him with an 'oof' that at any other time would have him laughing at his kid brother before helping him up. Now it meant just another stupid delay.
He turned and blinked as Sam carefully pushed himself up a little from the ground. Sam was covered in mud from head to toe.
Dean held up a hand. "Not one word. Just get up. We've got a long way to go and if you're lucky I just might let you in the car. So stop lying there and get up. You're wasting time."
Part of him, the small piece that could see the humour in his brother caked in mud from head to toe, wanted to burst out laughing. It was squelched by the part ready to strangle Sam. Neither action would get them back to the car, and the stupid sasquatch was just lying there in the dirt staring at him.
"Christ! Fine!" Dean said loudly. When Sam continued to do nothing but look up at him his fury exploded into a single word. "WHAT!"
"Uh," Sam said as he flinched at his brother's reaction. "I'm stuck?"
Dean rolled his eyes and went to check out what he was stuck in. He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. He sighed. "Jesus, man, they're just creepers and they're not even moving," he growled as he reached around Sam and yanked them away from his brother's ankle. "There. Get up."
He waited with what was left of his sore patience for Sam to right himself. He gave his little brother a shove forward. "Get movin'. Don't get us lost."
It took them almost two hours to find the car. Immediately, and sending a silent apology to his baby, he revved the engine several times before getting on the road. He flipped the heat on high as soon as a smidgen of warmth was available. He had just stopped shaking with cold when Sam decided it was a good time to speak.
"Dean."
"No. I don't want to hear it," Dean said as he lowered his head and glared at the road as he drove. "I will dump your sorry ass on the side of the road if you don't shut up now."
Sam huffed and looked out his window.
Frankly, Dean didn't care. All he wanted now was some peace and quiet, a hot shower and a warm bed. Their motel was a measly twenty minutes away.
He made it in ten.
Dean grabbed the shower first, not even glancing at his brother before locking the door behind him. He leaned against the flimsy door for a second. Kid had screwed up royally and had almost been killed. It didn't warrant any favours like getting first shower. Caked in mud or not. He was lucky Dean had let him into the car.
He wasn't a complete bastard though. He was relieved that his little brother was alive, breathing and barely hurt. He took a short hot shower, long enough to really warm up, get the dirt off, clean out most of the wounds and as long as it took for the stinging to become unbearable under the heat.
After treating a few of the worst of the cuts he left the bathroom, pointedly ignoring Sam's pitiful look as he got into bed.
The last thing he heard was the bathroom door close and the shower start before he fell asleep.
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He went from deep sleep to instantly awake. He eyes didn't open, his breathing didn't change, but he was fully aware.
The room was quiet as if everything had stopped existing. He grasped the hilt of his knife tightly under his pillow and breathed.
It took a second but he knew. He was alone and Sam had left.
He sighed and flinched a little as his sore chest muscles protested the move. Slowly, he eased his battered body into a sitting position. He looked down his body and could name every scar, every bruise, and every cut. From his first scar, to the cut that was barely noticeable from three weeks ago to the new ones to last night.
He ached everywhere and he did his best to ignore it. It was old hat to do so anyway and he hissed as he stood up. Ok, maybe it was more than strained muscles he thought as his arm went protectively around his chest.
He couldn't help the relief when he saw Sammy's bag and laptop were still in the room. Kid was angry, grieving and seriously rusty on the hunt.
And it all showed in neon colours.
Granted he'd been hard on Sam yesterday but they used to be in perfect sync on hunts. Sam had excelled at hunting the woman in white and the wendigo and water sprite had gone off well. But yesterday's hunt had been a complete disaster.
Dean shuffled his way to the shower and turned it on. As he watched the water go from the tap to the shower nozzle he made a decision. They'd stay an extra day. Do some training. Work on some of Sam's moves that had gotten rusty.
And he hoped to high heaven the kid brought coffee back with him when he returned. Kid couldn't have forgotten that, could he?
Ooooooooooooo
Sam knew as he trudged behind Dean he'd messed up. He'd been out of the job too long and had misread what Dean had wanted him to do, right at a critical moment of the hunt. Sam had misunderstood simple hand movements that he would've recognized in a split second as a kid. In fact the signal was one of the first Dean had taught him.
He could still hear Dean scream his name as he'd gone down under the force of a hit from the old trapper that had hunted in the woods for years. One life every few months until the area had undergone development and it was killing a person every few days. His head still rang with the blow and by the time he could himself part way dig out from mess he'd been forced into, Dean was digging the rest of him out. Job completed pretty much on his own.
Sam hadn't forgotten, far from it. After Dean had finally told him the truth when they were kids his training had started as soon as their father had returned.
Hand Signals, Latin, sparring and weapons with a bit of schooling and travelling on the side had become his life. A whirlwind of studying and exhaustive training. Truth of it was, even when he complained a bit, he'd loved it because Dean was teaching him. Dean was showing Sam his secret world, and he'd excelled because it was Dean. He never did as well when his father taught him. As much as they snapped at each other, he trusted and looked up to his big brother more than anyone he knew.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked up at the tree canopy that was beginning to be hard to see with the sun almost down. He wished for the uncountable time that he was back in the apartment with Jess. Safe, happy and so in love.
His foot got caught and his world twisted and spun wildly before he ended up face down in mud. The entire forest seemed to still as he lifted his filthy face up to see Dean scowling down at him.
Great. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse. He flinched at the pain as whatever it was wrapped itself around his ankle as Dean nearly screamed at him. "I'm stuck?"
Ooooooooooooo
Sam showered and lethargically cleaned out a few deep cuts. He thought one or two might need a few stitches, but put butterfly bandages over them instead and hoped they held.
Putting a bandage over the last of the his cuts, he met his own gaze in the mirror. He couldn't stand the pathetic form in front of him. Sam closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"What am I doing, Jess?" he whispered to the empty room. "What am I doing?"
He wished he could wrap his arms around his beautiful girl and bury his face in her hair. Sighing, he pushed that thought away. She was dead because of him. He could never endanger another woman like that again.
Straightening up, he left the bathroom and quietly got into his bed.
Not that he slept. He hadn't told Dean about the caffeine pills he'd been taking. He wouldn't and couldn't let himself sleep. The nightmares were just too intense to have anymore. He couldn't stand to see Jess burn night after night after night anymore.
So he lay there, staring straight up at the ceiling and didn't move until the room grew light with the first rays of dawn.
Silently he slipped from his bed. He dressed quickly, ignoring the shots of pain from his wounds and aches from all over his body. He grabbed his jacket and left the room as quietly as he could. He set out in search of black coffee to bring back to his brother. He knew how angry Dean was with him and rightly so. Coffee had always gone a long way in calming Dean, at least it had before he'd left to go to Stanford.
Maybe something a little sweet too. Good food, or rather something with a lot of sugar or was horrifically bad for him went a long way to sooth Dean.
Sam hoped that hadn't changed because he had no idea how to fix this otherwise.
Ooooooooooooo
When Sam returned to the room the only sound that could be heard was the shower running. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Placing the greasy bag on the table along with the take out cups, he wondered what kind of mood Dean would be in after yesterday's disaster. Would he still be angry or would the anger have cooled some? Realistically, Sam remembered Dean having a long fuse before exploding and things being ok again. But two years could change a person. So far with their time on the road together Sam had figured his big brother hadn't changed all that much.
Maybe the question should be how much had Sam changed. It certainly was showing on the battlefields of their hunts. He was slower, unsteady and felt the fear that used to make him freeze up before his first couple of hunts. Sam knew he wasn't as comfortable with weapons that used to feel as natural to him as a pencil did while at Stanford.
What hadn't changed were his research skills and puzzle solving skills. After all he'd used those skills at school so it wasn't a surprise that they weren't rusty.
But losing the others could get either of them hurt or killed. If he'd been quicker, the ghost of the trapper wouldn't have gotten the drop on him so fast. In retrospect the hunt had taken three times as long and left him with an injury that could've been easily avoided.
"Sam?"
The familiar soft voice jerked him out of his reverie and he blinked at his big brother before he managed a weak response. "Hey."
Dean stood there, t-shirt in hand, sizing him up. Sam felt the clench of Dean's jaw and frown almost like a slap. A sharp jarring wake-up call. He had to do better to keep his big brother from asking how he was doing because he was so tired he might actually tell him what he'd been dreaming about and that wouldn't be right. He couldn't tell Dean because it was his own load to carry for the rest of his life.
Sam cleared his throat and gave a weak smile. "Coffee and breakfast?" he asked hopefully as he held up the greasy take out bag of sandwiches. He'd put the doughnut box on his bag for the road later.
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Dean forced an easy grin. "Room service, Sammy? You so should have and I could totally get used to that."
Dean could see the uncertainty bordering on fear in his kid brother's eyes. Hope too, but there wasn't much of that. Really, he wasn't mad anymore. The anger from yesterday had been a result of relief, frustration, pain and exhaustion. Never a good combination for him.
He grabbed the bag, dug through it, and tossed a wrapped sandwich at Sam before grabbing his own. He picked up a large take out cup. "Black?"
Sam nodded as he took a small bite. "Black. No sugar."
"Perfect," Dean said and took a sip. It was really strong, bitter and incredibly right first thing in the morning. He let out a sigh of contentment before sitting across from his brother.
"I think I found us another hunt," Sam started, his voice wavering ever so slightly with uncertainty.
"Alright." Dean nodded watching his brother's body language as carefully as he was listening to him. Sam seemed reluctant to tell him what he'd found. And knew he was right when Sam had done nothing more than take a few more small bits and rip small pieces off his take out wrapper from his sandwich. "You gonna tell me about it, princess?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.
"Uh, yeah. It seems a spirit is haunting a church," Sam said hesitantly.
Dean swallowed the mammoth mouthful he was working on. "Dude, are you serious? Churches are hallowed ground."
"That's what makes it so weird, you know?" Sam said, leaning forward a little. "Turns out, though, it wasn't originally a church. It was changed about five years ago. Strange things have been happening ever since."
Dean mulled over his words. "Where is it?" he asked, knowing how Sam's eyes had lit up with details about the hunt, that the hunt wasn't the problem.
Sam slouched back a little and pressed his lips together hard enough to produce dimples. "Topeka."
Dean blinked a few times. Neighbouring area to home. Or what had been home. North Dakota was more like home with Bobby and the salvage yard but still it was close enough to send a shiver though him. "We'll call Jim. He can make a church visit and see what's up. Right up his alley, don't you think?"
Sam nodded and ripped another piece off the wrapper and shredded into several more pieces.
Dean swallowed back a sigh and finished off his sandwich. "Hey, eat up. We got a busy day ahead."
"What like a hundred miles of blacktop busy or something else?" Sam asked.
Dean was halfway out of his seat and wondered if his little brother had pulled back on the sarcasm at the last minute with the question, but by the look on his face Sam just wanted to know. "Something else. I'm going to the office to get this place for another night. Be in training gear when I get back," Dean said as he opened the door and closed it behind him before Sam could ask him any more questions.
Sam should never hesitate to give him details of a hunt, no matter what it was or where it was.
His time at Stanford had slowed the kid down some, but he was still beyond smart. Sam had clued into the woman in white before he had by just scanning the notes on their father's motel room wall. With the wendigo he would have never thought to download the guy's video message home and slow it down frame by frame. There were more examples, but that was enough for Dean to know his brothers skills were sharp.
But with the plane job Sam was barely sleeping, something that he'd started doing while they were figuring the water sprite. Dean hadn't slept through the night since the job in New Orleans. He'd wake every few hours his senses telling him to check the room, check to see if it was safe. He still did it, even with Sam in the room and usually found the kid pretending to sleep or staring blankly at some infomercial. The bags under the Sam's eyes were a dead giveaway too.
During the plane job Sam had opened up too easy before Dean had shut him down to take Jerry's case. He was gonna have to talk to the kid about Jess. Sammy had always needed to talk about stuff and losing Jess would have wrecked him inside just like losing his mother had done to Dean. Granted he had been a child back then, but now and then the pain would flare up for no reason and would take time to shove it away.
He felt for his little brother, he really did, but he needed to keep the boy ready and able. Right now he was dull, sleep deprived and possibly on something. Probably caffeine pills to keep him up. He knew the signs, after all he'd been on them for awhile himself before dad had taken them away and made him stop.
The best way to start was to get Sammy training again. It had been dad's way as well and it had worked well enough for them as kids. He needed to shake the rust of Sam's fighting moves or they'd both be hurt or possibly killed. There was always the chance of that happening anyway, but preventing it as much as possible was always good.
He figured the best way to start was a couple rounds of tai chi, few laps and a bit of hand to hand. He just hoped he didn't have to talk Sam into it.
All of these things Dean added to his mental Sam's to do list.
Ooooooooooooo
Sam stared at the closed door for a minute. Training gear? His brother made it sound like they had work out equipment with them or something. Granted, they had the weapons in the car and he could work on his shooting or something but he had no specific gear to put on.
He sighed softly and just concentrated on breathing for a minute. At least his brother wasn't planning on dropping him somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He was actually going to take time to train like they'd done before he'd left for school.
Sam was surprised that the prospect of training made him feel lighter, like he was somehow taking control of things. He certainly hadn't felt like he'd had any kind of control with the trapper they went after. Maybe a little hand to hand or something would do him good.
Quickly he changed from his jeans into sweats and waited for Dean to return. He considered checking his injuries from the last hunt but a quick visual showed the currant bandages holding so he flipped through their father's journal as he waited.
It had been such a weird and wondrous thing as a kid to try and read through it. Scary that someone might catch him reading, which was forbidden. Weird because he couldn't read a lot of the words in there, and all he could figure was it wasn't English. And wondrous because the things he could read made his comic books look tame and boring. He remembered tracing over the things in the book, the wendigo and it's markings, and a few of the other things.
He couldn't begin to understand what he was really looking at, but he knew it held dangerous things in it. Which meant dad could have been in danger instead of whatever cover they'd told him. And hadn't that hurt? All the lies he'd been told. How it had all come crushing down on him when Dean had caved and told him the truth.
One of the things he remembered from that night as he fell asleep with tears on his cheeks, was Dean sitting next to him. Staying with him, when he'd felt so afraid. It was Dean who stuck by him, and Dean who had caught holy hell when he'd admitted to their father what he'd told Sam.
Laps were the least of Dean's problems for a couple months. Dad had told him he couldn't trust him anymore if he couldn't keep his mouth shut about that one single thing to keep Sam safe. But Dean had still stuck up for him, stayed next to him when Dad's fury echoed off the walls as he shouted at them. Dean who had taken a step forward and in front of him when John had come close enough to be in striking distance.
Not that dad had ever hit them, not then. But back then Sam didn't even realize what Dean had done, not until years later when his father was possessed and he'd wished he'd had someone to stand by him.
His head shot up as their door opened.
"Well what are you waiting for? Lets go, princess," Dean said as he ducked his head in and then turned to walk towards the car.
Sam smiled. "That," he murmured and hurried to catch up.
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Dean was covered in a fine sheen of sweat but still raring to go. They'd gone for a run, done some tai chi, field sprints and now they were working on hand to hand. Sam wasn't as rusty as he had thought, but the boy could use the conditioning. Sam was dripping with sweat, and had gone from easily side stepping or blocking to overexerting himself with every move. He was breathing so hard Dean wasn't sure he was getting enough air. With a mental sigh he figured it was time to end today's session. He feinted one way then shot out to sweep Sam's feet out from under him. He was kinda disappointed it worked.
Sam lay on the ground, chest heaving, his eyes clenched closed and held his leg up slightly from the ground. Dean frowned as he surveyed his little brother. His sweats had ridden up a little as Sam fell and Dean could see a ring of red just above his ankle.
Sam let out a deep breath before shaking his head and getting to his feet. Ready to go another round. Ready to prove to his big brother he could and would do this.
"Sam, what's wrong with your leg?" Dean asked.
"Nothin. I'm fine," Sam said as he ran his forearm over his forehead. "Lets go. Again."
"Sammy. You're bleeding. What is it?"
"It's nothing!" Sam said sharply as he struck out and caught Dean square in his chest.
The blow didn't have much force to it and Dean stepped back slightly. "Enough for today, Sam."
"No again. Come on! Come at ... oof."
Dean had his brother on the ground in less than a second. "Gonna have to do better than that," he started to say only to have Sam try to move away.
"Get off!"
"Nope. Not till you calm down a bit. Seriously, man, you're hyperventilating. Enough. Just relax a little. We'll do some more later. Easy, just try to deepen your breathing," Dean tried to coach but he could see nothing but fury in his kid brother's eyes.
"Dean, lemme up. We keep going."
Dean leaned back slightly as if to let Sam up, but as the younger brother did, Dean reached back and touched Sam's lower leg. Flinching as Sam let out a yowl of pain and surprise, Dean sighed. "Sparring's over. You start explaining. Now."
Really Dean had expected another round out of the kid, just for show or another shove or something. But Sam's incredibly tense body just suddenly relaxed and his little brother just lay there breathing with his eyes clenched closed. Dean shook his head and was glad the bag he brought with him was within arm's reach.
He didn't know why he'd wanted to bring it. Wasn't much. A tattered old football for tossing around after if they'd felt like it and some medical supplies. Tossing around the football had kinda been tradition for them. A way to blow off steam after a hard session of training and a way for them to talk about things if they'd wanted to. Usually it was Sam griping about something but it gave Dean something to do while he listened and a way for Sam to get it out. It was a gut feeling though to bring the bandages and he was glad he did.
Gently he pushed up Sam's pant leg up just a little and eased down the sock so he could see the wound. It wasn't deep but it looked like several ropes had been wound around his leg and dug into it. The flesh was raw and ragged around the fresh wound making Dean flinch in sympathy.
"Dude, why didn't you say something?" Dean asked even as he brought out something to clean out the wound.
Sam sighed. "Wasn't important."
Dean snorted. "Looks like we're gonna have to have a talk about what's important and what's not."
"I know what's important," Sam said quietly.
The defeated tone of his brother's voice had Dean looking up and stopping what he was doing. "Ok. Why don't you tell me."
"Finding dad. Killing whatever took Jess and mom from us."
Dean's jaw clenched once. "Yeah. Keeping yourself able to fight is just as important. You should've said something cause I could have hurt you even more."
Sam's head shot up to glare at him. "I can still fight," he shot back angrily.
"Yeah, you can and I'm not saying you can't," Dean said, then took a breath. He wasn't going to be baited into another fight, sparing or otherwise. "You gotta tell me when you get hurt. Your wound is swollen and really raw. Aside from hurting like a bitch, it could get infected. Now tell me what happened."
Sam sighed, closed his eyes and rested his head back against the ground making Dean's hackles rise in frustration.
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Sam's entire body just suddenly relaxed against the ground as he clenched his eyes shut and slammed his head back into the grass. He lay there as Dean did something to his wound and he concentrated on just breathing. It was stupid and he really didn't want to tell Dean. He hated getting caught off guard but that's exactly what happened.
"Sam," Dean said.
He knew that tone. It was Dean's frustrated almost ready to explode tone and it made him sigh. It wasn't that he couldn't talk to Dean, he just felt like an idiot.
"It was stupid."
"Uh huh," Dean replied dryly.
"After the trapper slammed me to the ground, I got dragged down into that crevice before the logand dirt came down on me. I didn't feel it till we were back at the motel and I was in the shower. It didn't look too bad so I put some stuff and bandages on it."
"Wait. This happened yesterday?"
"Yeah," Sam said, tilting his head up to look at his brother to gauge how much trouble he was in. "I, uh... I thought I could just ... I don't know, handle it myself?"
Dean shook his head and tapped up the clean gauze he'd wrapped around the wound.
Sam watched him carefully as he put away supplies and zipped up the small bag. "It's really not too bad. It's not like I can't walk on it," he said with a small shrug.
Dean nodded, stood and offered Sam a hand up.
Sam looked at the offered hand for a second before taking it. A little help wouldn't hurt, but still the wound wasn't that bad.
"When we get back to the motel it gets washed out with holy water," Dean said as he started back to the car. "I don't want to hear any complaints."
"You won't get one. If you think it's necessary we can do it," he said and almost flinched at his brother's disbelieving look. With an easy shrug he grinned. "Didn't say I wouldn't protest how it felt if it burned."
Dean snorted and shook his head. "Right."
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A few hours later back in the room, Dean was throwing the last of his chicken bones into the take out tub as Sam researched on the net.
"You know, Sammy, this room ain't half bad and the cable works. We could stay. Do some more training and hang out for a bit before finding another job. What do you say?"
"Five minutes ago I might have agreed," Sam said as he read the newspaper article about a man's exploding eyeballs. "But I think I found our next job."
He didn't turn to look as he felt Dean come up behind him and read over his shoulder. "Seriously? Exploding eyeballs? Gotta say that's a new one, Sammy. Where're we headin'?"
"Toledo."
"Toledo... Toledo... Tole," Dean muttered as he headed back to his bed. "Ah yeah," he said as a grin slowly lit up his face. "Last year... . Hmmmmm...."
"Dean," Sam said. "I don't want to know."
"She was so .... bendy and ohhh the things she could do with her tongue... Piercings had never ever been that hot before. Hmmmm." Dean's eyes took on a faraway look his tongue teased his lower lip and then he worried his lower lip between his teeth.
"Dean."
"And her tats? Man, she had these Celtic knots down her arms, jewelled swords on her thighs and god, Sammy, you should've seen what she had on her..."
"Dean, please?" Sam grimaced.
"Back. Ravens. They almost shimmered in the candlelight. God, what was her name? Gotta look her up again.... Barb? No... Baily? No..."
"Dean, I'm beggin you man...."
Dean snapped his fingers. "It was some long old name that started with a B that I figured would be more common in old Ireland or something. Couldn't pronounce it around all the Jack I'd had. So she said to call her by her middle name. Heather."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course that was her middle name."
"I'm tellin' you. Sammy, all Heathers are sexy. And, oh god, this one was so bendy. She could put her feet right behind...
"NO!!! Stop now or I will find a way to drown you in your sleep," Sam growled.
Dean's eyebrows rose all the wait into his hairline before he burst out laughing.
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Dean glanced over at his little brother as he slept. Sammy had slumped down in the seat with his head back over the seat. He was snoring softly and Dean was just glad Sam was sleeping. Which he had done for ten hours back at the motel and after an hour on the road was back asleep, and had been for the last six hours.
The caffeine pills had worn off and Sam's body was catching up on the much needed rest. It hadn't been a pretty conversation and in order for Sam to give them up he had to tell his brother about their father catching him with the pills. Only he'd been on them for two months by the time his secret had been discovered. On a hunt. Dad had been so beyond pissed he'd locked him in a room, finished the hunt they were on and they were on the road.
He didn't remember much, Dean had been injured which had led to the discovery, and everything had taken on a dream like quality. His body exhausted from the lack of stimulants and fighting to heal from the wound left him weak and barely able to do much more than sleep.
Dean had a vague memory of Bobby standing next to the bed he was on and having a rip roaring fight with his father with Sam sitting on the bed next to him. He remembered Sam's tear stained face, he'd never remembered another time dad had looked so furious, and somehow he'd clued in Bobby had placed himself between dad and them for protection. Dean was aware enough to be scared, but too out of it to know why. Might have been because Sam was holding his hand, but he'd never even on pain of death tell anyone he remembered that little tidbit.
Dad had been gone when he woke, as had Bobby. Sam had been quiet, too quiet when he was awake enough to be aware something was way beyond wrong.
Dad didn't come back. Bobby did with supplies for a few days before he packed them up and took them home. They didn't see their father again for two months. Bobby said he had to get over his mad. Dean wondered just what he had done that was so bad it meant exclusion for that long. They'd just been caffeine pills, a little stimulant to keep him going when he couldn't keep up with the hunt and school.
Bobby had it figured out, the why behind the stimulants. All Dean got was a grunted "figured" and "got this for ya. Put it away till your ready." And that was that.
It took months before Dean actually opened the package to find information on how to get a GED. It made him wonder how or why Bobby seemed to know him better than his own father, then decided it didn't matter. He was lucky to have both of them. Dad for the skills and Bobby for skills and the other few things he needed from time to time.
As the Impala ate up more miles of road, Sam started talking in his sleep. Calling out for Jess, begging for forgiveness, moving restlessly on the seat next to him or calling out something unintelligible.
It worried Dean, but was surprising that as soon as Dean started talking softly and put a hand on his brother's arm Sam would quiet down. Ease back into a less fitful slumber. For now, he was gonna have to let that go. Let the kid sleep as much as he could as they drove to their destination, but they would have to talk.
But for now he just drove his car, let the tunes play quietly and thought about the job ahead as he took a turn to get them closer to Toledo. Exploding eyeballs. Only his kid brother would find them a job like that.
The End.
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