The title and the summary come from a song by Augustana named Boston. The story has nothing to do with the song. This story contains spoilers for DALDOM and CSPWDT. I own nothing, of course. Well I do own the mistakes and I do apologize for them.
I have no idea what made me write this. But sometimes a story hits you when you least expect it, you know. It's weird and then you can't sleep, eat, you use pen after pen, notebook after notebook, you drive people crazy…and then this comes out. This is a two chapter story and I'll put the second chapter up when I'll be happy with it…or if you'll be happy with this chapter. Smiles. So…
…Enjoy.
--
"So when are we gonna talk about it?"
Sam's voice broke through the quiet music coming from the speakers. The singer's voice skipped a few words, the tape must be over used, but no point of saying that to Dean. He's already sure he won't need it anymore.
"About what?" Dean turned his head from the road and looked straight at Sam. Their eyes met for a second before Dean averted his gaze back to the wide road.
They were alone on it, just them and the occasional wild life. Mostly deer, rabbits, 'n stuff. Dean had reflexes, got to give him that, that last rabbit could have been a killer.
"You know, about you changing your mind." He watched Dean for a minute more and then followed his gaze through the window. It was just preparing for a sunset, just a few more minutes and the sun will go down and up in the other end of the world. People will wake up, go to work, school, just doing things, he knew won't be doing. Normal things, shopping and hanging out with friends, parents, kids. Loving people, hating people…not knowing when someone will die.
"I didn't change my mind. I still want the cheeseburger and fries."
And don't you think I'll change my mind on that one, Sammy.
"'S not what I meant."
It was a warm evening, lovely to go out to the movies, or camping, or just for a walk.
Definitely not for going into a motel room to search for some 'unusual' things. Not for knowing your brother is going to die.
"Well then you have to be more specific, Sammy."
Just no salad. Anything but that green stuff. I found a bug once in there and it wasn't pretty.
"About you dying and asking me to help you? About you changing your mind? When are we gonna talk about it?"
Straight to the point. It's for the best. No need to avoid the thing that was on both of their minds.
"Umm, when hell freezes over."
I really don't want to talk about it, Sam. Drop it.
Silence.
"Maybe that'll be sooner than later."
He mumbled beneath his breath, beneath the rumble of the Impala, beneath the music and trust Dean to pick it up off the dirty floor.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
That bug in the salad…I would stuff it in Sam's throat and let him choke on it. With pleasure.
"I didn't say anything."
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…
"It had to mean something or else you wouldn't have said it." The anger was seeping through every pore in Dean's body. Where it hit his clothes it deflected back into him, bringing him into a feverish rage.
"Said what?"
"Jeez, Sam, you better start watching your mouth or you'll be picking your teeth from the side of the road."
Mask back up, moment of weakness gone, rage stuffed deep down somewhere in the dark pits of his soul…and keep on driving.
Dean knew exactly what that meant. And he couldn't believe Sam had said it. To be honest he was being…uncommunicative…in these few weeks, but never ever…Sam was way out of line here.
The accusation stung right to the foundations of his soul and it just plain out hurt.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, Dean even turned off the radio. The worn out tape made him itchy to hit something. And Sam's presence in the seat next to him was making him nervous. And being itchy and nervous was no way of getting out of this without leaving a bloody mess.
Sam was mentally kicking himself and banging his head on the pavement until he was a bloody heap of regret and stupidity.
How could he be so stupid to accuse Dean of being cold?
One kick right to his ribs.
To accuse him of being emotionless?
One kick to his stomach and he spilled some blood on the hard cold ground.
Accuse Dean of being selfish when all he ever did was trying to keep him safe…alive?
A kick in his chin rattled his teeth and one fell out, mixing with the bloody puddle already on the ground.
It hit him then…in that statement, he already said that Dean was going to hell.
One hard kick to the chest and he lost his breath, choking on the blood coming to his mouth and spilling down his cheeks.
Dean had to notice Sam kicking himself in his mind, Sam was sure of it as he was sure he's still breathing, hard and shallow, but still breathing, but Dean didn't even twitch, didn't even look away from the road.
The sun went down somewhere between Sam's remorse and Dean's contemplating about Sam's statement. The distant hills swallowed it and left darkness where Dean could drown the remains of his rage for Sam. Only pain was left floating on the surface.
Sam was right.
All there was left was a long stretch of black road and two blinding white headlights shining the path for Dean to drive on.
Sam was right. I didn't show it, but…
"I'm sorry, Dean."
It was said with clarity and loudness of a man deep in regret.
"For what?" he cleared his throat, trying to show that he wasn't all that bothered with the statement but still…it showed.
"For saying that." He couldn't repeat it. Never again. Not even in the noise of his mind, where he was sure all the other thoughts would drown it, but he couldn't be 100 sure.
"Saying what, Sam?"
Dean's eyes never left the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly making Sam slightly nervous.
Sam was starting to wonder if Dean was just playing stupid about this or did he just imagine the whole conversation. Because the latter would be so great right now.
"Never mind."
Dean smirked. He just bought himself some more time to get this out of his mind. He didn't need this argument right now. He'll deal with it like always. If Sam would just get out of his way.
He tensed his muscles to the point of being rock solid. He heard what Sam said, right from the 'you're so cold hell will freeze over when you get there' to the 'sorry' part. He just wasn't quite sure what hurt the most; Sam thinking he was cold or the fact that Sam said he would go to hell.
That eliminated the 'sorry' part and shoved it straight through the floor on the warm asphalt road for the Impala to run over it and kill it.
Sam never meant to say those words. He didn't believe in them, they were a complete lie, they were a sign of his own stupidity and big mouth.
But that's the way things are, right? Sometimes you just say things and they are out of your mouth even before your brain can process what just happened.
No wonder he fought with Dad. But whatever he said to him, was true and he meant every word. But this…what he said to his brother…it was a lie. A total and utter lie. Not even a lie, it was nonsense. What unholy force made the words come out of his mouth was lost on him.
All he knew right at this moment, driving a little too fast down a little too dark road, was that he has to make this right. Better. Dean was never cold and emotionless. Even when he seemed like that to the world, Sam saw straight through it. He saw pain, fear, sadness, love, need, want, loneliness, happiness…everything. And he saw sadness and pain right now. When he glanced towards Dean…those eyes, those hands gripping the wheel, the clenched jaw, tensed muscles…sadness and pain.
Anger got crammed somewhere deep in Dean, somewhere where all those things go.
-:-
"I'm sorry." he turned on the light in the room and spoke the words that were burning his throat and his eyes.
Dean closed the motel door, and turned towards him. Calmly and composed he answered with a cold, raspy voice: "Yeah me to." And proceeded to walk pass Sam to the bathroom. If he calmly closed the front door, the bathroom door didn't make it out with such luck. He almost terminated them when he closed them shut.
Sam was left there, standing near his bed, leaning slightly on the bed frame for support. A desire to roll over and die came in his mind, but he knew that wouldn't solve anything. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
Stupid.
He shed his jacket and threw it on the purple blanket that he was supposed to sleep under right now. Not standing here and waiting for his brother to come out of his hiding place, that just happened to be the bathroom where he should have had his shower by now.
Idiot.
Dean came out of the bathroom in what seemed like ages to Sam.
"Dean."
Silence. Just nerve racking silence, broken by a car with a damaged exhaustion tube.
"Just talk to me, man."
Dean rampaged through his duffel bag, probably looking for his gun.
Yeah, he's probably gonna shoot me, can't blame him though.
When he pulled out his T-shirt, Sam breathed a breath of relief.
Just shower, no gun.
"Dean I just want…," a pause, "…ed to know. Just…I'm sorry."
"Know what Sam, huh? How the only time, " he raised his voice an octave higher, no doubt the neighbors heard it too, "I ask you to help me, you go and accuse me of being cold and stupid…"
"…I never said…" he didn't dare to raise his voice so he kept it in a slight whisper.
"…and practically saying I'll die…" he almost choked on the 'die' part.
Breathe Sam, just…
"…you won't die…" ever, if I can help it.
"I came to you, I ask you to help me, to save me from," he waved his hand in the warm air, "this death and you wanna know everything in between. Well Sam, some things I wanna keep to myself. You said it yourself once, remember?"
That broke at least two of Sam's ribs, but Dean was right.
"I'm sorry. What more can I say? I didn't mean it, I wish I could take it away, take it back, but I can't. I'm sorry, Dean, you have to believe me."
Dean sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled it in his mouth, biting on it so hard he actually bit right through the thin skin and drew some blood.
"I'm really sorry, I don't know why…"
Dean closed those few steps that divided him from Sam and stopped inches from Sam's face.
Those eyes looking up at him…the sadness and pain shining in the green plains killed him.
Sam was sure Dean would hit him again and he would be alright with it.
"Yeah well, me to." And he turned around in one swift motion and headed for the bathroom door again. And killed them again.
Sam flinched at the noise, than shuddered as he looked around the room. Purple blankets and yellow curtains, carpet infested with cigarette burns, and fleas too probably, a little kitchenette, a table and four chairs.
He hadn't moved from his position near the bed, just staring at the bathroom door. He noticed they were violet.
Moron.
He moved from his glued position near the bed and staggered towards the window. He pulled the curtain apart and looked out. The view was amazing…on a half full parking lot with some very shifty looking cars and a weird kind of a yellow light illuminating it.
Thump.
It was dark, dark like his soul right now. Just dark…absent of all light that normally came by playing jokes with his brother, talking, being near.
There were stars in the sky, he could see them flickering. They looked like that millions of years ago, before this life hit him.
I wonder if they knew.
Thump.
There were some trees in the distance, courtesy of the owner of the motel. He planted them right into the concrete, no wonder they looked a little…dead.
Thump.
What the hell is that noise? Please just let it not be the neighbors. It's bad enough there is violet and purple and yellow in the room, and some hate too, but not sex maniacs for neighbors.
He left out a breath and tried to still his nervous hands and twitching legs. Nothing he could do now when Dean's in the bathroom. Nothing but to wait here in the stillness of the room with silence pounding in his mind. And the occasional thump.
Silence.
Thump.
There shouldn't be silence, there should be a shower running, there should be Dean singing horribly out of tune, there shouldn't be a fight.
I'm too tired for this…just way too tired for this darkness to keep latching at me. In me. Fighting with Dean. With only a few weeks left to be around him. No, no, no, with only years left to be with him.
Thump.
He dropped the curtain and let it fall in place, obscuring their little family drama from the rest of the world. That's how it's always been, right? Nobody's business but his and Deans. Everyone else can just…screw themselves.
A few steps toward the bathroom dragged like miles and when he finally made it, he wasn't sure what to do next. So he knocked.
"Dean?"
No answer, but another thump.
"Dean?" a little louder this time, just in case.
Thump.
He leaned his ear to the door and held his breath.
Thump.
"Dean, 'm coming in."
Nobody's business but ours.
He swallowed hard, almost breaking his throat, and turned the door knob. It wasn't locked as he thought it would be, and he thanked all the Gods that he knew of for being so.
--
How will Sam get himself out of this mess? shrugs
TBC…
