NO MAGIC THIS TIME
By: Karen B.
Summary: Season nine Spoiler warnings. Most the time Dean didn't even have the heart to put the radio on. So, they drove. And the silence and distance drove along with them.
Disclaimer: Not the owner
Forgive the heart that hurts you, don't hate the heart that loves you.
~ Author unknown
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They'd been driving for days. He'd lost track of how many. Both of them on autopilot, Dean behind the wheel, and Sam on map duty in the passenger seat.
Sure they were together again – on Sam's terms – working relationship only.
Together again, but never further apart.
No brother's allowed.
It sucked.
Out loud.
Or… not so loud.
Most the time Dean didn't even have the heart to put the radio on. So, they drove. And the silence and distance drove along with them.
Speaking only when spoken to:
You see that friggin' guy cut me off?
Dick.
Whoa, would you check out that hunk of chunky road kill.
Sick.
Left or right?
Left.
Speaking out of pure necessity:
Pull over, I need the John.
Yeah, sure.
Babies getting low, let me know when you see the next sign for a gas station.
A curt nod of the head.
You hungry yet?
No.
Well, I'm hungry.
There's a MacDonald's up ahead.
MacDonald's sucks!
Their last tête-à-tête about Sam's pretzel-twisted legs had Dean pulling them over at a scenic, nature preserve that included a few picnic tables, grills, swing set, outhouse, and a three-mile stretch of rocky beach alongside a muddy lake.
"No footprints in the sand or sandcastles here," Dean muttered as the current of cold lake air rolled easily down his t-shirt making him regret not grabbing his jacket, or button-down.
Walking beside him, Sam said nothing.
"Plenty of seagulls, though." Dean pointed out the group of gray and white birds nesting on the rocks and pecking at dead fish.
Taking deep breaths Sam reached toward the sky, stretching side-to-side. "So," he grouched.
"So," Dean rolled his eyes. "Riddle me this, cloudy with a chance of grumpy," he snorted, "why don't seagulls fly over the bay?
Sam merely shrugged.
"Because then they'd be bagels," Dean laughed loudly. "Get it, dude? Bay-gulls?"
"Yeah, Dean, I get it," Sam huffed unenthusiastically. "Two miles," he said blowing out a breath, and then jogged off splashing along the edge of the water as the shimmer of mornings light dipped behind a scatter of steely-gray clouds.
Dean kept his sights on Sam as he approached the colony of gulls. The flock of angry, squawking birds ran ahead of him, and then took flight to find another section of quiet beach.
"It was a funny joke," Dean complained, watching until his brother was nothing more than a tiny dot in the distance leaving him alone.
It made him feel wishy-washy, nearly moving him to towel-ringing, chickflicky tears. He sucked the waterworks back in on a huge breath and buried it. To be in this parasite-infested, slimy sewer system of crap, he had to be a maverick. No tears allowed.
He'd done the right thing. Dean coached himself as he turned to stare out over the muddy lake. Of course he had. Saving Sam was always the right thing to do. Kid had never known what was good for him anyway. That was Dean's job…always had been. After all, he was the big brother. He was the one dad left in charge. Hell, if he was being honest – and he was from now on – he'd put himself in charge.
Dad never had shit to do with it.
The potent desire and need was etched into Dean's very being.
Watch out for Sammy.
They weren't just words.
It was a way of life ingrained into his very soul, scrawled into his awesome brain, and, branded into his beating heart. It had all started long before Sam was born. When the kid was still a friggin' tadpole swimming around in his mother's belly, Dean had issued himself that licenses.
Being a big brother in the family business meant being at war, every second of every hour of every day. It meant raw, unadulterated fear and terror. Not for himself. Oh, no. It was fear for Sam. Fear of seeing something horrible happen to his baby brother. And hadn't it. How many damn times? And that was on him.
One false big brother slip up, one wrong step in the wrong direction, one sliver of hesitation and his little brother – who he'd sworn to protect by his very life – would lie dead at his feet. He couldn't let that happen.
Not again.
It wasn't always easy. Fighting off the evil, fighting off the demons and ghosts and monsters…fuck! Half the time he was fighting off a stubborn-Sam himself to keep him safe, having to play it hardnosed and even harder assed most times.
Sure Sam was a full-grown Sasquatch, and a damn good hunter. But there was a fine line between brother and hunter, and Dean never knew where to draw that line.
"The line begins and ends with you, Sammy," he barely whispered, the cold wind taking his breath away.
Dean wrapped his goose pimpled arms tightly around himself as he stumbled over the rolling rocks to stand at the edge of the lake. The cold waves lapped up against his pant legs soaking them through right away and causing him to shiver.
He missed the good-old-days, when Sam was young, content to be tucked under the wing of his big brother. The memories only brought him cold-comfort, and made him numb, empty, lost, and alone in every sense of the word.
All feelings he never wanted to feel.
He'd saved Sam from the damage the trials had done.
Sure.
But at what cost?
It started to rain, a light sprinkle dotting his skin.
"You think I screwed up, Sammy," he said quietly. "But I didn't." Dean shuffled back and forth trying to keep his balance on the ever shifting rocks as clumpy seaweed tangled around his ankles. "I just…I couldn't lose you. And this was going to be for keeps." His gut twisted and he winced. "But damn if I didn't lose you anyway," he said in a shaky voice. "I knew this would hurt you. Go against everything I know you believe in. But I had to, man." The waves rolled in and out and the rain came down harder, saturating Dean's t-shirt, the material plastered to his skin.
"I've always tried to do what was right for you. It's my duty as a big brother. You were dying. I couldn't give up on you, even though you wanted to give up on yourself. I knew you wanted to go, but I couldn't let death take you," Dean sucked in a deep breath. "Son of a bitch, dude, I was reeling. The uncensored truth…I was crushed down. Losing you….it's scarier than any monster we ever fought, more awful than any hellish, nightmarish-torture cutting into me. And I know I should be sorry, but guess what?" Dean spat. "I'm not. It's what I had to do and I did it. Once upon a time, I fucking did it, the end. It was tough as hell, don't get me wrong…and I was desperate. But I let the bastard in. I couldn't say goodbye. Screw you!" Dean tipped his head back and swore at the sky in frustration. "I couldn't. You are all I have left in this lousy world. And you were going to leave me here alone. It was supposed to be me, man. The trials…everything…was always supposed to be on me. You!" Dean pointed an index finger at the cloud-filled sky. "You're supposed to take me first. We made that pact how many stinking years ago? Way before Sam ever even knew about this whole freaked-up life. I told you that there was no price I wouldn't pay to keep him safe." Dean fisted his hand and shook it hard at the all-mighty entity that probably wasn't even there anymore. "You need to take someone…you take me. I said take me!" His eyes widened at the sound of his own voice, his uncontrolled rage shocking him. His body began to shudder and he let his hand fall limply to his side, head lowered in shame.
How could he fix this?
This pain was worse than losing Sam by death. He'd lied and lied and tried and tried and though Sam was alive and well now…and he was glad for it and he'd do it again a trillion-billion times over…he'd still lost his brother anyway. The death of their relationship as brothers was eviscerating.
No crossroads deal would fix this. Dean's soul was damaged. No demon or angel would want it now. And besides, he wasn't offering anymore. If this was how it had to be in order to keep Sam alive and safe, fine.
"No magic this time," Dean muttered shaking his head sadly. "If dad could see me now," he swallowed hard. "He'd kick my ass."
"Newsflash, Dean." Sam's breathy voice came from behind. "He'd kick both our asses."
Dean startled and bit into his lower lip, embarrassed at being caught talking to himself.
"Two miles up already, huh?" Dean stiffened and stood ever vigilant heart banging in his chest.
"Newsflash…avid runner, remember?" Sam's shoulder brushed against Deans as he came to stand next to him, nostrils flaring, charged with oxygen from his heavy breathing.
"You say newsflash again," Dean snarked, "I'm going to edit your face." He trembled, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head.
"You okay?" Sam asked in genuine concern, ignoring Dean's sarcasm.
"I could say I was, but then I'd be lying," Dean side glanced at his brother. "Not lying anymore."
Sam nodded, shoving floppy wet hair back away from his face, and tucking it behind his ears.
"I could say I'm sorry too," Dean added. "Say it a million times and it won't matter, Sammy. The words will mean nothing. because I'm not."
"And I could say I forgive you a million times, Dean, and it won't help me to trust you again," Sam said softly.
It was Dean's turn to nod. And there it was.
They remained silent, the clouds growing darker and the rain still pelting down.
"We should get to the car," Dean spoke first, turning away to head back to the parking lot.
"So we don't say it," Sam blurted out of the blue.
Dean stopped mid-stride. "Huh?"
"We don't say it," Sam repeated. "We prove it," he challenged still staring off over the lake watching huge drops hit the surface so hard it made the lake look like a giant, bubbling cauldron.
Dean didn't answer, standing motionless; rivulets washing over his face and under his shirt collar and sliding down his back.
"You in?" Sam challenged firmly.
"You think that will make us right?" Dean asked suspiciously.
"Can't make us any more wrong," Sam suggested.
"Guess not," Dean admitted.
"So you in?" Sam repeated in hopeful tone.
"Dean looked over his shoulder and without hesitation said, "I'm in."
Lightning flashed bright-white, immediately followed by a clap of thunder that jolted the rocky ground.
"Sammy! Move your ass," Dean growled.
"Not the boss of me, man." Sam stubbornly remained where he was, back to Dean.
Dean spit rainwater from his mouth and whirled. "Tag," he said, dashing forward and pulling a bump and run.
Sam stumbled awkwardly trying to balance on one foot, but ended up ankle-deep in the lake. "You jerk!" he squawked.
"You're 'it', bitch," Dean shouted, already having taken off up the beach toward the car.
"You're going to pay for that," Sam yelled in return, long muscular legs running full-out to catch up.
The chase was on.
Maybe, just maybe, there was some magic left after all.
The end