Title: Crawling Back to You
By: EsTeLwEnadia
Summary: Part Two. AU. Continuation of Incomplete. Sam realized that it was futile running away from the other part of his life, the life of a hunter. So he came crawling back to his family. Literally. Minor Hurt!Dean included. Appearance of John at later part.
Rating: Major Sam's angst.
Disclaimer: All of the Supernatural isn't mine. Neither is Sam. And sadly, regretfully, neither is Dean.
Author's Note: Second time writing a Supernatural fanfiction. A fic never done by anyone, I think.
As always, comments and constructive criticism are immensely appreciated.
Go on… read…and enjoy!
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Sammy…
Sam woke up with a start, not really knowing why. It wasn't a nightmare, he was sure of it. But god, he was trembling all over.
Something tugged at his heartstrings, and for a minute or two, a wave of sadness washed over him. It was so intense, Sam felt tears prick his eyes and a sob rising in his throat.
"What the hell?" He cursed, immensely startled. He rubbed a hand over his face, and found it wet.
He stared at his hand.
It was glistening.
Startle turned to confusion. But he wasn't crying, or sweating for that matter.
So what the hell was going on?
The moonlight glinted off his bedroom mirror. He risked a glance. His face was glistening. Frowning he got up to take a closer look. Yes, his face was wet.
His frown deepened. He was now doubly puzzled. A little scared. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know why his face was wet. He didn't know why he felt a pang of loss, the echo of sadness when the wave left him.
Dean… The name of his brother sighed across his heart like a gentle night breeze whispering across an ocean.
Sam gasped. Dean? What Dean got to do with this?
"Sam?" A soft voice filtered through his daze.
He jumped for the second time that night. Saw Jess gazing at him with sleepy but worried eyes. He took several deep, shuddering breaths to regain his composure.
"I'm fine, Jess." He didn't expect his voice to crack a little.
Jess's gaze sharpened, her sleepiness gone and was replaced by piercing concern reserved solely for him. Her voice was firm. "You're lying. And why are you crying?"
Sam touched his face again. This time he was surprised to know that he was really crying; and the sadness in his heart intensified by folds. But he still didn't understand. Why was it there?
"I don't know," he sounded lost, despaired, confused. "I really don't know. It just happened…"
Jess reached up and folded him in her warm embrace. "It's alright, Sam. It's alright."
"Maybe it isn't me," Sam continued brokenly. "Maybe it's my brother's. Maybe it is his sadness that I am feeling. But how…? Dean is not the emotional kind of guy… Dad told me Dean never once shed any tears when Mum died, so why is he crying now?"
As Sam trailed off, Jess whispered, "There is still so much I don't know about you, Sam."
Sam gently removed himself from Jess's embrace and faced her. In that moment Jess could almost swore that she had never seen anyone who looked so anguished like Sam did now.
"I guess it's time for you to know all about me, Jess," Sam said. His heart was thundering in his chest. He was going to tell her the truth. The truth about his life. The life he had abandoned to get where he was now. The family that he had left behind. "But please, don't hate me…"
Jess reached up with a slender hand and placed it on his cheek. She smiled gently, filled with warmth and love. "I won't hate you, Sam. I won't leave you. Ever. But I will if you continue to keep me in the dark."
"Promise?" Sam was afraid, afraid that Jess would leave him if she knew the truth.
When Jess arched a challenging eyebrow, Sam regretted asking her. "You doubting me?"
Sam shook his head. Jess could be downright terrifying if she was angry. "No, of course not. I'm sorry."
"It's alright, Sam. You don't have to tell me everything if you don't feel like it. If it hurts so much. I understand. Just tell me what you want to tell me, okay?"
Sam looked down at his hands. He felt humbled. If only Dad were just as understanding… if Dean …
"My story is a weird one," Sam warned. "Might not even be believable, but it is true. Save your questions till after you heard it, okay?"
Jess snorted, amused. "Weird? Believe me, Sam, I can handle weird."
Sam took another deep breath, then he launched into his story, beginning from when Mum was killed and what had happened thereafter. How Dad became a hunter and how he trained his sons to be like him, both in hunting and first aid. Sam told Jess some of the supernatural beings they had hunted. Jess only listened with her eyes wide. Sam went on telling her some of the weapons they had, their roles in hunting, like Dean was a better hunter and Sam was a better researcher… he told her more about Dad, though he could not hide the resentment in his tone, and he also told her about Dean. His gaze softened, a light smile playing on his lips when he recounted Dean's over-protectiveness, Dean's sacrifices, Dean's quirks and likes and dislikes, and occasionally he would scowl when he described Dean's blind obedience, Dean's bossy, cocky attitude, Dean's frequent sides with Dad, Dean's interference with his and Dad's quarrels… God, he missed Dean so much…
"I left them," Sam finished with a sad note. "I abandoned them so that I can be normal again. So that I can lead a normal life, not the life they had put me in."
Jess was silent for a long while, studying his face with watchful hazel eyes. Sam couldn't read the expression etched on her features.
"Very interesting," Jess said at last. "Remember the first time we've met? How you dropped into a fighting stance whenever you are surprised? How when I entered your apartment there's a line of salt on the doors? Windows, too? Remember when Jake broke his leg during a soccer match? You called for the first aid kit and set the leg quickly, expertly. The nurse was amazed. Said you set it well. I was going to ask you about all those but always either got distracted by something else or never gotten around to start asking. Now I know. So you're a hunter."
Sam frowned, confused by the lack of disbelief in Jess's voice. "Why aren't you … you know… shocked?"
She shrugged. "Why would I be? You are not the first hunter I know."
"What?"
"My best friend is a hunter, too," Jess replied, smiling a little. "She told me when we were playing Truth or Dare between ourselves. She chose Truth. I asked her what secret had she been keeping from me, and she told me about her other life. The one she kept so well from me. It was extremely hard for me to take it all in but eventually I did."
Sam stared at Jess in sheer disbelief. It couldn't be! Jess… Jess could NOT know about the supernatural… but she did. The fact hit Sam hard, hard enough to slam his heart to his stomach. If Jess knew about the things normal people shouldn't, won't know, then… then… it was pointless for him to leave his former life. His family. His brother. It was pointless for him to run.
"Sam?" That voice again. Concerned.
"I'm fine," he whispered. Bleak. Like he was feeling inside.
"Sam," she sighed. "You are a fool, you know that? You left your family. You left your brother. Even though he had done so much for you, you still left him. You let them go, to pursue the life you want. Only to find out, what, Sam, that no matter where you are, you can't run away from the thing you resent most. Hunting. Supernatural. Stuff that goes 'bang' at night. That I know stuff that you are trying desperately to forget."
Sam closed his eyes. Jess had succinctly summarized what he was actually thinking. He was indeed a fool.
"You can be a hunter and know the supernatural and still be normal, Sam," she continued lightly.
Sam shook his head. "It's not possible. Dad –"
"It sure is possible," Jess interceded. "You just have to explain it to your Dad. Make him understand. I'm sure he'll give in. You are his son, afterall. Which Father doesn't love his own son?"
"Jess…"
"Go, Sam, go find your family, and go back to them. It isn't right to leave your family like that. Not after what they had gone through with you. For you."
"But Jess - !"
Jess fumbled around for something and offhandedly tossed it to him. Sam caught it in the mid-air deftly with a hand. It was Jess's Jeep keys. Sam looked at her, questions in his eyes.
"You can use my Jeep," she explained. "Faster and easier that way."
"But…" Sam tried to argue, while at the same tried to absorb the fact that Jess had not hated him for who he really was. Jess had not hated his other life. "How can I find them?"
Jess shot him an amused look. "Oh, come on Sam. You told me you're the geekboy. Go do the thing you are good at – research."
Sam stared at her for a little while longer, thinking. How should he start? Dean hadn't contact him since their most recent dispute. Which was six months ago. Dean had broken in his apartment and tried to talk him to find Dad, who had not returned from a hunting trip. It had been a week, and Dean was getting worried. Panicky, even, to come to Sam for help despite having told off that he didn't want anything that got to do with the life he tried to leave behind. Sam had been pleasantly surprised to see Dean again – goodness, he hadn't realized how much he missed his older brother - but the old anger of Dean not doing anything that night overcome him and Dean's simple request had quickly turned into a bitter fight. He remembered Dean's face, unreadable, but his green eyes were shadowed with undeniable pain, like Sam had literally hurled multiple arrows straight into his heart, one after another in rapid succession.
"We'd better off alone, Dean," he had said calmly. "Then we don't have to hurt each other like this. It was time that we moved on. I get on with my life, and you get on with yours."
Dean didn't say anything; just fixed him with that piercing gaze, and Sam knew that the older man was crumbling inside. He had broken Dean's heart, but god, he didn't mean to break his heart.
"Sam?" Jess soft voice gently pulled him out from the painful reverie.
He shook his head. "It's nothing."
Dean had left from where he had entered and he did not look back, and since then, Dean had not contact him at all. Sam had not gotten rid of the guilt. The guilt that viciously reminded him that he had hurt the one person in his life who cared so much for him.
He heaved a deep breath. Enough. He needed to get a grip on himself if he wanted to find his family again. To set things right again. He reached for his phone, knowing that there weren't any messages from Dean but he checked the voicemail anyway.
"First new message" The mechanical voice greeted him cheerfully, "Message received on Sunday twentieth of September at nine twenty-five p.m."
Sunday… that was four days ago.
Hey, Sammy…
Sam gasped. Dean!
There was a long pause, and Sam could hear his brother's harsh breathing, the faint tapping of his fingers against something at the muffled droning of Zeppelin in the background. Sam listened harder.
Dammit! Dean cursed, more at himself than at anyone else. Sam furrowed his brows. Dean was probably hesitating to make the phonecall. Suddenly the guilt in Sam multiplied by folds. It was his fault Dean felt that way.
C'mon Dean, Sam urged, say something!
Another deep breath. I know you wouldn't want me to call… to remind you of something you want to forget but… I'll be quick, okay?
Dean lapsed into silence again. Sam could imagine him closing his eyes, hating himself. I am going to Nevada now. There's a job I have to do. Got a bad feeling about this… so maybe that's why I'm calling… but you don't have to worry, Sammy. Nothing will happen to this Winchester, right?
A sad snort, and Sam felt his insides clenched at that sound. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Never mind, Sammy. Ignore this message. I'll be fine. Sorry to disturb you. Just… take care, and stay safe, ya hear me?
The message ended there, leaving Sam frowning. He definitely WOULDN'T ignore the message. And when Dean told him not to worry, all the more Sam should be feeling worried. Very worried. Especially when Dean mentioned that he got a bad feeling, and Dean's instinct was almost always accurate. And when Dean said he would be fine, that would mean that Dean would NOT be fine in the next hunt, so Sam concluded that the hunt must be really dangerous.
Sam flipped his handphone shut and tossed it on the bedside table. He got to do a little research. Something supernatural must happened in Nevada, bad enough it had attracted Dean's attention, had spurred Dean to come over to get rid of it. Something that had killed a lot of people, and killed them messily. Or if not that, kids, maybe. Dean had always a soft spot for kids.
There! A website of Nevada's online news showed an article about brutal killings in the forest. Victims – hikers, campers mostly- were slashed viciously and left to die a slow, painful death. Some were unfortunate to be skinned alive, entrails spilling out of their bodies in a splash of deep red blood. Rangers and even police were dispatched to hunt down the culprit – some said it was a mad bear, while the police was adamant that it was a deranged murderer they were looking for- but Sam knew none of them were correct, and reading further he discovered that the rangers and the police dispatched did not return from the hunt.
"Oh my God…" Jess whispered, the three words spoken slowly and clearly resonating absolute horror.
Sam jumped slightly. So intense in his research he did not realize Jess had stood quietly behind him watching him working on his laptop.
"Who… no, what did all that?"
Sam swallowed against the nauseous bile rising in his throat. "A wendigo."
Jess must have known what a wendigo is, because she asked, in that same, low, terrified tone. "Don't tell me your brother is - !"
Sam just powered off the laptop and stood up, looking troubled as he dumped some of his stuff into the same duffel he had brought with him when he left that fateful night. "Dean had gone there to hunt the wendigo, Jess… And from the looks of it, he did it all alone. He hunted a dangerous, crazy wendigo all alone. In the forest. At night. I have to go now. He is already in danger. He might be bleeding somewhere in the place, or worse."
Tears sprang into his eyes, and this time, he knew why. He was more than worried for Dean's safety. Dean was a damn good fighter, but a wendigo was faster, stronger and deadlier than Dean was. Even Dean's indomitable will could not win him against the wendigo.
Jess threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Go, Sam. Find your brother. I'll be fine here, don't worry about me."
"Jess…"
Jess looked at him in the eyes, making sure he saw how hers burned fiercely with worry and love for him. "Sam, you gotta promise me something. You got to promise me that you'll be careful!"
"I promise, Jess. I promise I will be careful."
Sam then leaned in and captured her lips in a brief, chaste kiss. One that left Jess wanting for more. "I'll come back for you, Jess. I promise I'll come back for you."
A teary smile to go with a teary voice and glistening eyes. "I know you will."
Before Sam could hurry out of the door, Jess gave a watery chirp, "And perhaps one day you will bring me to see your family."
It was a statement, not a question. And in that statement there was a request that could not be denied. Sam had to smile. He had heard that sort of statement a lot. From Dad, and sometimes, from Dean.
"Sure thing, Jess."
With a wave and a last look at his girlfriend, Sam hurried out of the room and got into Jess's Jeep in record time. Within minutes he hit the road and was driving well over the speed limit, cutting into lanes, not stopping when the red light was on, overtaking slow vehicles and gunning Jess's Jeep's to its maximum speed. Lucky for Sam there weren't any police patrol nearby but at that moment he didn't care. He had to get to Nevada fast. Dean's in trouble... he could feel it in his bones.
Dean, hang on! I'm coming!
Dean was a fighter, he knew. A lot of times Dean forced himself to go on fighting even though he should have stayed down and stopped moving, just to make sure that the evil was gone for good and that the people were safe again. To make sure that nothing could harm Sam or Dad, not when he was still breathing. Sam's breath hitched. Always a protector. Always putting his family before himself. Always throwing himself in the line of fire. Even when he was gravely injured, or gravely ill, Dean would fight against his demise, to get back to them. Dean had no idea the meaning of giving up, or giving in, of stepping back, even.
But that was when he was at Dean's side. He knew he was Dean's pillar of strength, like Dean was his. Dean would never fail to be there for him, come hell or high water. He knew Dean would pull through because he was there, at his side. He wasn't there now. Dean might or might not pull through.
It was like the heavens smiling down on him because when he snapped back to reality he saw the sign 'Nevada' rushing past. He stamped harder on the accelerator.
He skidded to a halt in front of a rancher's station. This had to be it. He scrambled out of the jeep and approached the first ranger he saw.
"Sir, have someone named Dean come by?" He asked, knowing his voice was frightened, panicky but he couldn't do anything to stop it.
The ranger frowned, puzzled for a moment. "Dean? Oh hell, yeah, he came by two nights ago. Asked about the victims… like a police officer but sure as hell isn't one. Tried to stop him from getting in but he gave me a slight smile and said, 'Nobody going's to die after this.' And he was gone… just like that."
Sam's face paled. "Is he still in there?"
The ranger rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. "No. He left here yesterday's morning. Looking like shit; bleeding and limping and clothes ripped at some parts. Looked at me in the eyes and told me the danger is over and that the forest is safe again. Want to bring him to the hospital but he downright refused, stumbled into his car and drove off. He had a really awesome car, by the way. A Chevy Impala 1967… sweet baby."
Sam's face paled even more. Dean was hurt. It was no surprise, but it never really gotten any easier everytime Dean got hurt. "Do you know where has he gone to?"
The ranger shrugged. "Probably to the nearest motel, just down the road. He won't be able to make it far in that condition."
It was all Sam needed. Nodding a quick thanks at the grumpy ranger, he slid back into the Jeep and sped off to the said motel.
"Did someone named Dean book a room here?" Sam demanded at the sleepy receptionist. He didn't even feel sorry for her when she jumped slightly and looked at him with fearful eyes.
Her fingers trembled as she consulted her book. "Yes. Dean Walcott. He is in the room 17, second floor."
Room 17. Second floor. Without so much as a thanks to the girl he sprinted up the steps. God, Dean was hurt and he had to climb the damn steps! Why couldn't the motel set some money aside to build elevators?!
Room 17… where was room 17? Sam scanned on the numbers on the doors. 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16… He almost skidded past Room 17.
Dean is in here… Dean is in here…
"Dean?!" Sam yelled, banging on the door frantically. "Dean! If you're in there, answer me!"
Sam knew Dean was in there, but hell would freeze over if he would make Sam wait, because Sam was not going to wait.
"C'mon Dean, it's the least that I can do… just to tell you face to face that I was lying to myself, and I was dying in this hell. I know deep inside you are mad, you are hurting, and I can't blame you for being mad, because it is all my fault in the first place. But I am here, Dean. Are you gonna let me in? I was running from the truth and now, I am running back to you. Dean, hey man, Dean, c'mon, say something. Say something, dammit, say something!"
There was no reply from the inside. Nothing. Sam was starting to get really worried.
"DEAN!!"
Sam felt like he wanted to kick the door down … to make sure Dean's alright, but he didn't want to create any more noise than he already did. Thinking fast, he withdrew his wallet and took out a fake credit card with trembling fingers.
The door opened at the card's intrusion. Sam swung it aside and barged in, but as soon as he saw Dean, he stopped dead in his tracks, his heart almost stopped beating.
"Oh my god, Dean…"
Those words escaped Sam's lips in a soft, horrified gasp. Dean was slumped on the bed, head hanging low against his chest. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but his naked torso was wrapped with bandages, all of which were soaked with blood. Dean's pallor was pale and from where Sam was standing he couldn't see whether Dean was breathing or not.
Shit! He was instantly at his side, dropping to his knees. He reached out a trembling hand to Dean's jugular and almost went weak with relief. Dean's pulse was weak, but there.
"Dean, stay with me, Dean, stay with me! C'mon, man, wake up!"
Gods, no, this shouldn't be happening!
"Sammy?"
That soft, pain-filled voice almost gave Sam a whiplash. Dean was carefully raising his head to rest at the headboard, eyes closed tight in pain.
Sam gave a whimper of relief. "Yes, Dean. I'm right here."
Dean's eyes opened slowly, revealing confused, pained emeralds. But then he turned his head a fraction to look at Sam. Immediately, disbelief and suspicion etched across the exhausted features.
"Sammy?" He rasped. "Is that really you?"
Sam nodded quickly. "Yeah, Dean. It's me."
Dean was silent for a moment. Then abruptly he managed a weary smile. "Good to see you again, Sammy… It has been a long time."
Sam closed his eyes. "Yeah, Dean… a damn long time…"
A shuddering cough. "How do you know I'm here?"
"Your message, Dean," Sam replied, looking at his brother worriedly, "Are you alright? Do you need some water?"
Dean shook his head slightly, eyes clenching shut at the pain the movement caused. "Nah… I'm fine."
"Fine?" Sam echoed, arching an incredulous eyebrow. "You look like hell –"
"Gee, thanks, Sammy."
"Your bandages need changing –"
"They had enough of white and thought red's pretty cool."
"And when I got here you were sitting up, unconscious -"
"Was not. I was sleeping."
"Unconscious," Sam repeated. "If you were sleeping you could hear me banging on the door. You could hear me screaming your name."
"You didn't bang or scream loud enough, Sammy."
"Dammit, Dean, this isn't funny," Sam snapped, angry that Dean could still make light of the grave situation he was in. "What the hell do you think you are doing?! Heading in a forest all alone to kill a crazy wendigo? Without backup? You could have been killed!"
"I did that to save the people," Dean countered evenly.
"But you don't have to risk your life doing that!" Sam shouted. "Because if you die… I... I…"
Sam couldn't finish his sentence. Tears spilled down his cheeks at the mere thought of Dean's demise. His hands shook, and he could barely hear his own heart beating. Images after images of Dean seriously injured during their younger days assaulted his mind. He remembered his young self kneeling beside the unconscious Dean, crying and begging him to hang on, to come back to him. Dean had looked so pale, so fragile Sam almost could not recognize him, because the Dean he knew was strong, tough, unbeatable. Dean looking so vulnerable, so weak, so helpless was just so wrong.
"I don't know what I'll do…" he finished softly.
Dean reached out a hand and laid it on Sam's, and the tremors stilled down to nothing. Startled, Sam looked up at his weakened brother, wiping his tears away with a clumsy hand.
"Sammy, listen to me. There's no way I'll die."
Sam gaped at such a simple statement. "How can you say that, Dean? You and Dad are always so reckless. What? You think you are invincible or something?"
"Aw, Sammy, give us some credit, will ya?" Dean groaned. "Okay, fine, we may not invincible, but you forgot the 'Don't Mess with the Winchesters: Warning No. 1'."
Sam arched an eyebrow. "Is there even a 'Don't Mess with the Winchesters' list? I thought there is only the 'The Winchester Rules' list. Never mind. So, what is it?"
"We Winchesters don't die so easily," was the smug reply.
Sam stared at Dean for a moment before slapping his forehead and chuckled. Dammit, he should have known… But Dean was never funny. Annoying as hell, sure, sarcastic too but funny? Something was definitely wrong.
"Alright Dean, let me check on you," Sam insisted firmly. "You should be sleeping lying down, not sitting up. At least not in that condition anyway. So c'mon, stop being difficult."
"Stop it, Sammy," Dean warned. "I'm fine."
"Like hell you are."
"I didn't mean to doze off, okay?" Dean continued smoothly, ignoring Sam's interruption. "I was waiting for Dad to come back. That's why I was sitting up."
"Dad?!" Sam echoed, surprised. He didn't see that coming.
"Dean!"
Dean looked up, and Sam whirled around. Dad was at the doorway, eyes dangerous and sure as hell not comical even with paperbags in one arm, because in his free hand there was a deadly Smith and Wesson, muzzle pointing directly at Sam. He must have thought that the room had been broken in because the door was ajar, so he had come charging in. But when he saw Sam, he was so surprised he let it show.
He lowered the gun, initial surprise quickly shelved away. Still pissed off that there was no intruder in Dean's room, and that he was safe, John glared at his youngest son. "Sam."
Sam had risen to his feet, surprise and a hint of nervousness and a slight defiance glittered in his eyes. "Dad."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I want to see you and Dean."
A slight surprise, then. "Why? I thought I told you not to come back."
"Well, you told me. You didn't order me," Sam said mildly. Dean snorted, and Sam found himself smiling a little. Abruptly remembering that Dad was still in the room, glowering at them, Sam banished that hint of a smile away. "It doesn't matter, Dad. I am here because I have just realized something important."
"And what is that?"
Sam took a deep breath. "That we can be hunters and know the supernatural and still be normal, Dad." He couldn't help a tiniest grin that appeared because he knew where he took that quote from.
"What?"
"Dad, I was wrong back then. I thought that hunting the supernatural was not what normal people should do, but I wanted to be normal, so I thought that by abandoning the supernatural and the hunting I could be just like any normal person out there. I was wrong."
Dad only stared at him, his expression completely unreadable.
"So, Dad, please. Let me complete my studies first. I promise to get back to hunting after that. Hell, I can even help out in our jobs during vacation. I can do research whenever you need my help. Just call me or leave me a message and I promise I will get back to you as soon as possible. Please, Dad, that way, I can live in both worlds. I can be with you guys again, and still be normal. Most importantly, I can be what you want me to be and at the same time, I can be what I want to be. "
"Sammy…" Dean whispered. He had not expected this from Sam. He had not expected this at all. But how would Dad answer?
John was silent for a long while. "You know what, Sammy?"
Dad's voice was dark, dangerous. Sam gulped, not really knowing what Dad would say but he whispered it anyway. "What?"
"You can go to college and be, as how you put it, normal," Dad said, his features softening. Suddenly he looked so tired, no longer a fierce 'sir' but a father they had missed so much.
This time, both Dean and Sam looked at their Dad, shocked. "Dad?"
"So long you do as you have promised," John added. "A hunter, afterall, holds true to his promises."
"But not you," Dean muttered.
It went unheard. Sam stared at his Dad in disbelief. Dad had just agreed to let him study and let him back in the family, in the hunting game?
"Keep staring at me like that, Sam, and I will change my mind."
Sam quickly averted his gaze. "Sorry, sir."
He was pleasantly surprised when Dad closed the distance between them in three long steps and enveloped him in a tight hug, paperbags and all. "It's good to see you again, Sammy."
Sam smiled as he returned the hug. "Yeah, Dad, it's good to see you again, too."
He didn't know that he missed Dad so much. Maybe he was too busy hating Dad to miss him, but now, Dad was here, hugging him and it felt like he was dragged way back in time, back when he was younger. God, how he missed those times… and those hugs… Unconsciously his grip around Dad tightened.
"Argh… a complete chick-flick moment, right in front of me," Dean groaned, though he sounded happy. Happier than John and Sam had heard him. "Have pity on the wounded party, okay?"
"Sure, as long as you shut your whining," Dad returned amiably, releasing Sam to raise an eyebrow at Dean. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Happy birthday, Dean."
Sam was stumped. Dean's birthday today? Oh shit… how could he forget? Shit, Dean could NOT know that he had forgotten Dean's birthday. "Yeah. Happy birthday, Dean."
Dean snorted. "About damn time. I thought you have forgotten. So where's my present?"
"Dammit, Dean, you are not a ten-year-old," John sighed, but he was grinning. "In a minute. Let me patch you up first."
"Am not broken."
"Shut up. Sam, help me."
Sam was already digging into the paperbags for the newly-bought bandages before John had told him to. When it comes to tending to Dean's injuries, he does not need to be told to help.
"Dad's gonna give me my present. So … Sammy… when are you gonna give me mine?"
Sam almost balked, but he got it under control quickly. "I left it in my apartment." He was glad the lie came out smoothly. He only hoped Dean had missed it somehow… he was never a good liar.
Dean's eyes widened. "You left it in your apartment?!"
"Dammit, Dean, I was worried sick for you, and the first thing I did was to hit the road. How the hell am I supposed to remember to bring your present?" Nice one, Sam…
Dean studied his younger brother's expression carefully. He knew Sammy was lying, that he had forgotten all about his birthday, might not even buy his present but tonight he decided to let it go. Maybe he would ream his trusty geekboy sidekick out one day.
He closed his eyes, allowing a hint of his contentment to escape his lips in a light sigh. Actually his heart almost burst with happiness. His family had been reunited, finally. What more could he ask for? Wait, there's more. Just one more. He hoped that this reunion would last for as long as possible… then he could concentrate on just one thing from now… keeping them safe, and at the same time, hunting down that son of a bitch who killed their mother, as well as other creatures of the darkness who just won't keep to themselves… always out to create trouble…
"Dean?"
No response from his older brother. He had his eyes closed, his worn-out features had evened out to resemble that of absolute peace, and from the gentle rise and fall of his chest Sam knew that his brother had finally succumbed to a healing sleep.
Sam looked at his Dad, and words passed without them having to say anything. They, as gently as possible, lowered Dean on the bed and pulled up the blanket until it reached Dean's chin. Dad tucked in the blanket as an afterthought, and Sam could not help but smile. He had not seen Dad displayed any forms of tenderness in a long while.
"Dad?"
John looked at him. Before the dark eyes were hard, cold… now they were just tired. Dad seemed to have aged a few years more.
Sam fidgeted in his position, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He had resented Dad all this time… it was a hell lot easier than to make up with him… but then he remembered Dean, and how much Dean had done for him.
"I'm sorry for being such a jerk," he said quietly, staring at his hands as he recalled times he hollered at Dad. "For being just a pain in the ass. I'm sorry. It just that I…"
"Sam, shut it," Dad intervened sharply, then his shoulders sagged. "Dammit, Sam, I am the reason you are behaving like a spoilt brat. I should have at least considered how you feel. You wanted normal. I should have given you that… because it is what your Mum would have wanted all along. She would have been really disappointed if I were to bring up both of my boys to be like me…"
Sam gaped at his father for a second time, that night. "Dad?"
"I have been thinking of this all this time, Sammy," John continued softly. "But I just don't know how to set it in motion. Somehow hunting is a lot easier than this… patching up our family back again. And Dean has been doing this since goodness knew when."
Dad composed himself then. "But somehow today's Dean's birthday, and I ran into him in the motel's reception. Fate is sure funny, isn't it, Sammy? But sure as hell fair. I thought I was going to check out the killings here, but apparently Dean had gotten there before I did. Had taken down that son of a bitch, too. Was surprised to see him stumbling into the motel. I had never forgotten Dean's birthday, hell, I was hoping not to bump into him, but I did. And you turned up, too. Maybe there is such thing as coincidences."
"Maybe," Sam said, smiling a little. "Jess is the one who convinced me to find you and Dean. You owe her one, Dad. Dean owes her one, too."
John raised an eyebrow. "Jess? Your girlfriend? Well, Sammy, hate to wipe that smile off your face and all but… Jess looks a lot like your mother."
Sam's grin turned indignant. "Does not."
"You doubting me, son?"
"I wouldn't dare, sir," Sam countered, rolling his eyes. "Last thing I want to tell Jess is 'Hey, Jess, you know what? My father said that you look like my mother.' I don't think she will take that as a compliment. In front of you, maybe but she will skin me alive later."
"I would love to see that." John muttered.
"Dad!"
John grinned. He had forgotten how gratifying it was to tease and banter with his sons. And it felt good to have a smile, a genuine one, back on his face again. "Enough, Sammy. Get in the bed with your brother. Go to sleep."
Sam looked surprised. "But Dad –"
"No buts. You are tired. Go on, go to sleep. I've got it under control."
Sam stared at his father for while, then climbed in the bed beside Dean. Pulling up the covers over himself, he cast one look at his father. "You will not leave us, right?"
He had almost bitten his tongue off, realizing that he sounded like a child. A frightened child needing his parent to be there at his side. But he didn't want to wake up and discovered that Dad had left them cold. Again. He was completely sure Dean didn't want that, too.
John smiled. It was filled with sadness. Sam looked so young… it was all he could do not to break down and cry. "I will not go anywhere, Sammy. Not if I can help it. Now go to sleep."
"Promise?"
John sighed. "Promise. Now go to sleep. It's an order."
Sam stared at his Dad for a little while longer, as if trying to burn his face into his memory, trying to hang on to this moment for as long as he could. Then, with a soft sigh, he closed his eyes.
John watched as Sam slept, and as seconds passed, he felt the hole that had been eating him from the inside had been filled up. He couldn't help another rueful grin that appeared at the realization:
That when it comes down to it, they had crawled back to Dean.
- The End -
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Finally done! Got a sudden burst of inspiration from nowhere and it eventually turns out that all this happened on Dean's birthday. And I am a sucker for happy endings… It has always been my wish to get the family together again, to… well, cut Dean some slack… Poor guy…
Anyway, this fic was inspired by Backstreet Boys' 'Crawling Back to You'. About six times longer than its Part one, I know.
So, what do you think? Is it really necessary to make it as Dean's birthday? Is it too long or way out of the line? Or both? Am I rambling? Is the summary or the title even apt? Is everyone too… sappy?
Tell me. So that I can make the changes if necessary.
Thank you for reading the fic, and thank you for reviewing!