ANGEL IN THE HOUSE
By: Karen B.
Summary: Season nine spoiler warnings. A very short snippet. Dean tells Sam the truth.
Disclaimer: Not the owner.
An angel in the house they say – will guard your family night and day ~ Kathryn Schein
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Dean, what the hell are you saying?" Sam staggered, backing up into the library bookshelf. "That's not possible."
"Why would I make that up?" Dean said blinking hard.
Sam shook his head furiously. "I don't believe you."
"Sam, I'm not lying here." Dean grimaced. "Not this time anyway."
"No!" Sam spat in Dean's face. "No way would you cross that line," he muttered, chest heaving in and out.
"Do you think that was my first choice of action? We tried to heal you from the outside." Dean's hand went to his heart and he held it there a second. "Damn you, Sam, Death was about to carry your ass over the friggin' threshold. You were so torn up inside," he choked. "Mostly dead…I had to... man...I had to." Dean gave a helpless shrug.
His little brother wasn't ready to hear this. Physically or emotionally. But he couldn't keep covering up lie after lie anymore. It was dizzying. He'd probably told enough lies by now to build a bridge to the moon. Maybe even back. Crap! He had to come clean.
"No," Sam repeated, completely stunned. "It's not true. You tell me it's not true, Dean. Tell me right now!" Sam's hand reached behind him to grip the bookshelf as his knees buckled. "Please," he begged.
The heartfelt plea made Dean sick. He could hear the anger, pain, and irrational state of denial Sam was in.
Step one. He needed Sam to believe.
Dean frowned, a deep ache inside his stomach flaring. "Go on Sam, ask him yourself," he said, waving a hand in the air.
Sam tensed, looking like a snared animal and green with sick. "That's crazy."
"Fine," Dean said poignantly. "Zeke," he called, fixing his gaze, letting the angel in the house know he needed some help here. "Tell him."
A flicker of indecision flashed neon-blue in Sam's eyes, and then was gone.
"What the?" Sam tipped sideways, then righted himself. "What the hell was that?" His hazel eyes wide with fear.
"It's okay, buddy. He won't hurt you." Dean gave a nod. "Zeke, go on. I need you to explain," he soothed calmly even though that flare in is belly was now burning a hole. "Me and Sammy are going to talk all about it, but he needs to hear from you right now."
"Dean, you know it's not –" Sam took in a huge breath, his fingers gripping tighter to the shelf's edge as his heart skipped a beat. "Oh, God." He turned to face the rows of vintage books, leaning into the wood for more support as he started to tremble.
"Easy, Sammy, easy now," Dean cooed, never taking his eyes off his brother's back.
"I never did," Sam growled, with absolute conviction in his voice, his shoulders bowing. "I would never say that." Sam's body shaking more and more as he absorbed the information.
Dean pushed his fingers through his hair. Zeke had obviously made contact. Dean's heart bled at how shaken Sam was. He knew his brother would see this as a horrible, cruel, betrayal of trust. But how could it be? How on earth could loving someone so much... ever be that? No. It wasn't. Dean had done the right thing. He had to have. He just needed to convince Sam now.
Sam started to sob quietly.
Dean advanced forward slowly. "Hey, pal." He reached out, but stopped as Sam swiped a hand across the bookshelf in a fit of emotion sending books, and vases, and glass jars shattering to the floor.
"Why!" Sam shouted whirling around, contempt burning in his eyes.
Dean stopped only inches from Sam. "Take it easy, Sammy."
"I can't take it easy, Dean! Why would I ever say yes again? Once around the park was enough!"
"You didn't." Dean stepped closer. "You didn't say yes to an angel. You said yes to me, Sam," he said reaching out a hand to take Sam by the shoulder.
Angry beyond belief, Sam pushed Dean's hand away, tilting his head to one side, listening. "You...you both had to trick me," he growled, disgusted and repulsed. "Him I could see. But you? How could you?" Sam Spat in Dean's face.
"This is a tough one, Sam. I know. But we'll get through it. Together."
"Together," Sam let out a crazed laugh. "Who? Me, you, and Zeke? Three's not company Dean!"
Dean thought about that a second. "It could be," he said with a slight smirk.
"Gah!" Sam gave the empty shelf a frustrated fist thump. "You did not just say that to me, Dean. You did not," Sam screeched in a high-pitched voice, eyes watering.
"Sammy, I had to do something. I had to."
Sam said nothing. Just stood there sweating profusely, grinding his teeth, his breathing becoming difficult.
"Sam, come on, I need you to work with me on this."
"I don't think so." Sam stared down at the mess of glass and books on the floor. He seemed to be considering something.
It scared Dean. "Sam, let's just go sit in the kitchen and talk this out over some salad and pie."
Sam didn't answer, just kept staring. Thinking too hard by the looks of his creased forehead and pinched eyes.
"Come on, little brother. What do you say?"
"I can't," Sam finally responded, gaze darting to Dean.
Dean cringed inwardly at the haunted and devastated look. Sam was shattered. A bird with broken wings…or more like an angel with broken wings.
"Sammy?" Dean questioned carefully.
Sam's legs suddenly went out from under him like a windstorm had swept through the room and he dropped to the book scattered floor.
"Sam." Dean gingerly dropped down into a crouch balancing his weight on his toes, eye level with Sam. He wasn't sure what he could say. It was all so screwed up. He had questions too. Questions that would only receive empty answers from the blue-eyed angel inside of Sam.
"It isn't fair. I know," Dean said watching Sam's nervous tension. "You shouldn't have had to deal with this. I needed to protect you better. This is on me and I'm going to make it right. Look –"
"It's okay, Dean." Sam slowly raised his eyes to him and smiled, all of a sudden looking clam and collect.
Dean physically blanched. Something deep and vulnerable had snapped inside his little brother. He could see it glowing in Sam's eyes that got bigger by the second.
"I forgive you, Dean," Sam said.
"Dude," Dean yelped forcefully. "I'm not sorry. I can't ever be sorry for doing what I did. Don't you get it?"
"There's nothing to get." Sam gently patted Dean on the cheek.
"What?" Dean frowned, his heart starting to race in his chest.
Looking straight ahead, Sam placed his hands in his lap.
"What the hell are you doing, Sam?"
Sam's eyes softened, and he took a shaky breath. "I'm going to ask him to leave."
"Are you friggin' crazy!" Dean roughly took Sam by the shoulders and shook him hard. "You're not strong enough. You'll be dead in minutes."
Sam shook his head in defeat. "I should be, Dead."
"Sammy, no," Dean whimpered.
"I want to be," Sam rephrased, taking in a deep shuddering breath, and squeezing his eyes shut.
"Don't. Sam, please. Just give Zeke a little more time."
Sam didn't answer, seeming to sink deeper into himself
"Damnit!" Dean sucked in a breath, then yelled, "Zeke! Zeke," He bellowed louder. "Don't you leave him. I swear…don't you dare do it! You friggin' hear me? I'll find you. Pluck off what's left of your feathers," Dean screamed out his threat, knowing it was empty. Knowing, he didn't have control of the wheel – never did.
Sam somehow looked smaller to Dean. The light in his eyes almost vanishing.
"No, no, no." Dean did the only thing he could. "Come here." He pulled his little brother roughly to his chest and held him tight.
Sam breathed in deeply then demanded, "Leave me. Now."
"Son of a bitch," Dean bellowed.
As if the words were magic, the effect on Sam was immediate and he started to work overtime just to breathe.
Dean's knuckles went white and his arms numb as he kept Sam pressed against his chest.
Sam was dying.
Again.
His brother dangled limply in his arms, and all Dean could do was count the seconds between each gasping breath.
"Come on, Sam." Dean gave Sam a jolting shake. "Hang in there with me." He shifted Sam's sagging body higher on his chest and rubbed up and down the kid's cold-prickled arms. "How's that? Get you warmed up, little brother." Dean's voice cracked.
Sam's gasping breaths suddenly stopped, instead he made a dry choking sound, and then there was nothing.
"No, Sammy. No." Panic rushed over Dean and he rested his fingers at the side of Sam's neck. "You're not going to do that. You give me something here!"
Dean frowned, a trickle of sweat running down the side of his face - or was that tears? Dean waited. His cheek pressed against Sam's.
No air.
No sound.
No heartbeat.
Nothing.
"Sam!" Freaked, Dean squeezed Sam tighter. "There is no me if there is no you," he whispered softly. "I meant that Sammy. I won't live without you!"
A rush of breath brushed across Dean's cheek. "Uhhhh," Sam jerked in his hold. "D'n?" He clawed at Dean's arm.
"Holy crap," Dean sobbed. "I'm-I'm right here, little brother," he cried, dread filling him to his core.
Sam groaned loudly.
"Easy, let me see you…let me see you." He frantically eased Sam upward.
Sam shivered and his eyes rolled. "Get, Dean," he muttered.
"It's me. It's me, Sam." Dean gripped Sam's chin and forced him to look him in the eye.
Sam gagged, hand reaching weakly up to clutch at Dean's shirt.
"Hey, hey."
'Hey' Sam's lips moved, but there came no voice. He took a deep breath and tried again, head wobbling weakly. "Hey," he said in a scratchy tone and frowned.
"You're alive," Dean stated the obvious. "How?" He gripped the sides of Sam's head to steady him.
"Ezekiel," Sam muttered.
"What about him?"
"He won't leave," Sam whimpered.
Dean drew back, shocked, but the deep sadness in Sam's eyes trumped that. "It's okay now," he gathered his wits, sucking in a breath. "We're okay," Dean barely got the words past the lump in his throat. "We'll be okay, Sammy."
And by hell and heaven he would see to it that it was. This was on him. Whatever twists of good or evil the angel within might be up to…it was all on Dean. They sat there on the floor among the library books and shattered glass, until an exhausted, and still vulnerable Sam, fell asleep in his arms.
"What the hell are you up to, Zeke?" Dean questioned. Half-grateful that Sam was still alive, half- suspicious. "You hurt my little brother," he paused for effect. "The whole feather plucking thing – it's going to be biblical."
"I won't hurt your brother, Dean. I won't hurt you," Zeke said, lying in the dark shadows listening. He was barely holding onto the part of Sam that wanted to live, more like a leech clinging to a river stone than an angelic being. "There is still much to be done.
The end