Finding A Way
Tag to Paint It Black (and using The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams and alluding to The
Brotherhood AU created by Ridley C James)
Sam glanced at Dean asleep beside him in the passenger seat. They had opted to drive all night making the twenty four drive from Worcester back to Lebanon because Dean just wanted to go home. It struck Sam how much having the bunker to call home meant to his brother. He knew Dean got what he meant when he said they would find a way. He trusted Sam, but he was struggling with himself and whatever he confessed back there. So Sam had let it go. Dean had said okay, again if not like he meant it. Sam decided if Dean wanted to go home, it was worth driving all night, Dean had offered to drive first but Sam had suggested a nap. Then after ten hours or so of Dean alternately napping and leaning his head on the window, not speaking ,Sam conceded defeat and let his brother take over. It was dark night again and finally Dean had fallen hard and fast asleep and had managed to stay that way for a few hours. Every now and then Sam reached over and touched his arm. Dean didn't pull away, in fact seemed to relax a little so Sam continued to do it. He rubbed his tired eyes. He'd been driving again for at least eight hours and surely they had to be close to the bunker. He wanted so much to ask Dean about the confessional but knew his brother well enough to know that Dean would or would not share until he was ready. Whatever it was, it seemed to take a little out of Dean and Sam wanted to make sure he made Dean feel stronger, not weaker. He resolved to work twice as hard. His brother deserved it. He was never happier to see the city limits of Lebanon and pulled off the highway to the road to the bunker. He parked the car and leaned back in the seat. he wanted bed like nothing else he could think of. But he needed to make sure Dean was alright and settled.
"Dean, hey wake up. Home Sweet Home." He gently shook Dean's shoulder and his brother stirred. Dean's green eyes were glassy and this was concerning to Sam. He left his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezed it a little and waited. Dean didn't shrug him off. He scrubbed a hand down his face and groaned.
"What time is it? What day is it ?", he asked. Sam chuckled a little. He had to think about the date himself.
"Little after seven in the morning, on Friday. Come on, let's get inside. Stretch out in our beds." He squeezed Dean's shoulder a little harder and opened the door, moving around to the trunk to gather their bags. he heard Dean's door open. As Sam closed the trunk, he noticed Dean was still just sitting in the car. Was he hurt? Sick? He put the bags down and crouched in front of Dean. "You okay?"
Dean nodded. "Tired.I'm coming." But he didn't move. Sam stood. He held out a hand to Dean which his brother took and allowed Sam to pull him a little to his feet. Dean reached down for his own bag and Sam retrieved his. They walked to the door, Sam a little behind Dean. Dean seemed a little off to Sam and he was a little worried. At the top of the stairs, Dean paused, as if the thought of walking down them was an insurmountable feat he didn't have the strength for. Sam Put his arm around his shoulder. Dean sort of leaned towards Sam a little and they started the descent to the main floor.
About halfway down Sam asked, "You got anything broken or bleeding you're hiding we need to worry about?" Dean shook his head. At the last step he turned to Sam and sighed.
"Sammy, I'm not hurt. No life threatening injuries, no blood. I promise. Sister Angry Spirit threw me around. She tried to stab me. She didn't. I'm good. I'm tired. I mean really tired. I don't know why."
Sam smiled. "Because we worked a case and spent the last twenty four hours in the car. You're sure there's nothing I need to take a look at?" He noticed Dean was holding a hand to his side. "You bruised or do you think there's a rib or two that needs wrapping up?
"I don't know Sam .Maybe both. But I'm not bleeding and right now I think we both just need to sleep. You especially." He continued walking through the map room to the hall where their bedrooms were. His came first. He switched on the lights and deposited his bag on the floor. He dropped on the edge of his bed and waited. Sam instinctively followed him, dropping his own bag. Dean was struggling out of his jacket and Sam took it, tossing it on the chair beside the bed. He shrugged out of his own jacket. He raised up Dean's tee shirt as his brother winced a little. "Ouch.", he said as he noticed the black and blue marks and definite swelling along the rib area. He touched it as gently as possible, checking for broken bones. Dean pulled in his breath but didn't cry out.
"I'm getting you some ice", Sam said. "Lie down Dean." He felt another wave of concern at Dean being so compliant but tried to chalk it up to being overly tired. Dean reclined across the bed, feet still on the floor. Sam knelt down and took off his brother's boots. He helped Dean sit back up and lie down full length on the bed. "Be right back", he said.
Dean closed his eyes. he hadn't been aware until now how much his side hurt. There were no broken bones or Sam would be more concerned. He lightly touched the most tender area. Not hot to the touch so no internal bleeding. Just the usual thrown-around-by-ghosts- drill. Ice. More sleep. heavy lifting for a couple of days. That wasn't what was bothering Dean. It was Sam's blind faith it would all be all right. And Dean, though he wanted to, wanted to with his whole being, couldn't promise Sam he thought that. He felt like he was letting Sam down. like he'd failed. That if he did go over to the dark side, he'd be leaving Sam alone and unprotected. Bruised ribs he could handle. The other he wasn't sure if he could. Sam returned with a ice pack wrapped in a towel. He raised Dean's shirt and placed it on the deep blue bruises. He handed Dean two pain pills and a glass of water. Dean dry swallowed the pills and chugged the water.
"Okay. We're going to ice that for awhile and keep an eye on it." He placed the back of his hand on Dean's forehead, feeling for a fever. Dean was warm. Not feverishly so. But he decided keeping a close watch on that was warranted too."I'm going to get a shower. You need any thing else? Help changing, food?"
Dean shifted the ice as he moved to a more comfortable position. "No Sam. get your shower. Get some sleep". Sam stood there looking down at him. He frowned. He didn't want Sam to worry. "Go on Sammy. I'm not going anywhere. , come on man, I'm fine."
I'm fine. Always I'm fine. "Okay Dean. I'll check you in a little bit ." With that he grabbed his bag and left his brother holding the ice to his ribs.
Half an hour later Sam was clean, comfortable and worried. He went back to Dean's room to find his brother under the covers. The pile of clothes on the floor meant Dean had changed into sweats and a fresh shirt and Sam figured it had to hurt to do that with no help but that was Dean. Seeing that Dean was quiet and still, he started to go but something caught his eye. He walked over to the bed and beside Dean on the bed, he saw it again. The well worn, well read copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. An Easter gift from Pastor Jim the year Sam was five so his brother had kept the book for twenty seven years. Dean had pulled the book out once before, right after he'd killed Abbadon. Sam wondered why he had it out. He briefly touched Dean's face, warmer than before. He thought about staying but Dean seemed to be peacefully resting and Sam wanted his own bed so badly. He patted Dean's face softly but his brother didn't rouse at all. Sam decided to try and sleep a few hours.
Dean opened his eyes. The sunlight was bright and felt warm on his face, good, in a summer vacation kind of way. He realized he was in the boat, floating on Pastor Jim's pond. He wondered how he'd gotten here. And why. He remembered falling asleep in his room at the bunker. What the hell was going on? He found the oars and rowed to the edge, jumping out to secure the boat. He looked up at the farm house and there, sitting in his familiar white rocking chair on the porch was Pastor not quite sure he was really here, Dean starting walking to the porch.
As he approached the Pastor looked up from the book he was reading. "Dean my boy. How was the water?" Dean started up the steps, shaking his head.
"Pastor Jim? Am I dreaming or ...", his voice trailed off. The pastor smiled, sensing what Dean meant by "or".
"You're not dead. You're dreaming. We've met in dreams before. Don't you remember?" Dean sat on the top step and looked up at his old friend.
" No sir. I don't, "Dean replied. "Why am I here now?" He felt nine years old up at the pastor, asking deep questions, feeling he was safe and that Pastor Jim really heard him, really cared who he was.
Jim smiled. "I suspect you were thinking of me after you went to I right?"
Dean nodded. He had thought about Jim in the church. Had wished for a minute Jim's voice would come from inside the confessional, reassuring him, having a solution."Yeah. I was. What are you reading?" he asked, avoiding talking about the things he confessed even though he wanted to, for fear of breaking down.
"The same thing you were son."Jim held up the ragged copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. He smiled at Dean the way Dean remembered from childhood."What's really bothering you Little Rabbit?", he asked using his childhood nickname for Dean.
Dean sighed. "Same old thing Skin Horse. Trying to be real. I screwed it up big time than you could ever imagine. I just wanted Sammy to be..okay. With me. I couldn't let him go like that. I had to save him." He looked up at Jim recalling suddenly he hadn't explained what he'd done. Letting Gadreel possess Sam, taking the mark, becoming a demon. He suddenly didn't want to. Didn't want to actually say these things he'd done to the one person he'd always felt loved him without condition. The pastor got up and came to sit beside Dean on the steps.
"Ah yes. Angel possession. The mark of Cain. Being a demon. Killing Cain. These are very serious things you've carried Dean." Tears gathered in Dean's eyes. He looked at the ground, afraid to look the Pastor in the eyes. Ashamed of disappointing him, of not being all Jim had hoped for him to felt a hand on his back, gently rubbing circles. "This process of becoming real. Not easy is it Little Rabbit?" The tears did come then. Dean didn't try to hide them or wipe them it sighed. "It hurts the becoming real doesn't it?"
Dean looked up, tears flowing down his face in a way Jim had never seen."I'm not there yet. I'm not real. I'll never be real. I keep making a royal mess of all of it. I tell myself I do more good than bad but when I look around, I wonder if it's true. There's no way Sammy can look at me and see me the way I want him to. Jim, I love Sam. More than Sam can ever know."
Jim put his arm around Dean's shoulders. "I'm sure no one has ever doubted that Dean, Least of all Sammy. He's very worried about you. He has finally realized just what you mean to him. It's not a one sided thing, becoming real.Someone has to love you, really love you for a long time. Sam has always loved you, looked up to you. trusted you because you were always there. Sometimes my boy it's the ones who sacrifice the most that get overlooked, or so it seems."
Dean considered this. What exactly was he to take from this dream or vision or whatever the hell it was? The pastor interrupted his thoughts. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a longtime. That 's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily or have sharp edges or have to be carefully kept."
"Which means what Skin Horse?", Dean asked, calmer for having heard the familiar words again. When he was little and afraid, and feeling like Dad, Sam, everyone wasn't seeing him, loving him as much as he loved them, he longed to be a person who wouldn't break easily. He wanted to believe for so long that everything he'd done would make a difference. That Dad, that Jim, that Sam would be proud of him. That he could be proud of himself.
"When you died Dean, most recently, you told Sam you were proud of both of you. Is that still not true.?" Dean looked directly into the Pastor's eyes.
"NO. I was. I am.I'm not ready for it to be over Jim. I think sometimes I can beat it. That I'm not easily broken. But I gave up in Hell. I broke Jim". His voice cracked and the pastor's heart broke a little too. "The things I did. The things I've done since." He clinched both his hands in tight fists, ducked his head, willing himself not to think about those things.
Jim reached his hand under Dean's chin and pulled it up, as if he were truly nine again. "Yes Dean. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are real, you can't be ugly except to people who don't understand. Once you are real,you can't become unreal again. It lasts forever. Sam you see, my boy, understands. Don't shut him out. Let him help you. It will help him to see he is real as well."
Dean looked surprised. Jim laughed. "You don't have the market on this need to be seen, loved, real Dean. No son, all of us have it. You and Sam are luckier than most people. You've seen it in each other so long. You just need to see it in yourselves."
"But I've hurt Sam so much. How can he...love me the way I do him?" Dean asked. It was if this question had been burning in his being for years.
The pastor looked straight ahead. "Hasn't Sam hurt you too?" He glanced at Dean who didn't answer but the pastor knew from the tight expression on Dean's face that he agreed but somehow felt Sam's hurting him was okay. "When you are real you don't mind being hurt. I am sure we'll meet again my boy." Dean felt himself embraced in a tight hug, leaned into the pastor's shoulder and felt comforted. Then slowly, it faded away.
Sam walked on silent feet to his brother's room. Four hours had passed and he had meant to check on Dean in two or less. He opened the door to find the bed empty and panic ensued. The memories of a note written on yellow lined paper Sammy let me go was too raw, too fresh. He started toward the front of the bunker. "Dean!", he called, almost yelled.
"In here!", his brother answered from the direction of the kitchen. Sam made himself not found Dean working over the stove. He seemed refreshed. His hair was damp from the shower. He was humming as he fixed burgers and fries and placed them on plates. He handed one to Sam and took his to the small table. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. Popping the caps off the bottles the way Sam could recall him doing it for years, he motioned to his brother to sit.
"You made burgers for breakfast?" Sam asked sitting down to enjoy his. Dean smiled.
"It's afternoon Sam. But burgers can be eaten for any meal." He took a big bite and savored the taste of his own creation. Sam laughed. He wasn't worried anymore if Dean could eat, At least not about anything physical..
Dean put his burger back on his plate. "Eat up Sammy. We have to get busy. Finding that way out." Sam stared at him for a long time before beginning to eat his own burger. He didn't know what had caused this but any day Dean was up for finding a cure, he was too.
Dean wondered what was going on in Sam's head. He needed to tell Sam about the confessional, the dream. And he would. Tonight they'd go pick up a pizza, maybe a movie and then have a heart to heart. But right now, they had work to do.