Chapter Two
Dean strode into the house, his fast pace leading him to the kitchen. He made a bee-line to the liquor cabinet—the cupboards above the stove—and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, not bothering to take a glass out as well. Dean just drank straight from the bottle without taking a breath until it was more than half empty.
"Kid?"
Dean turned around to see Bobby standing in the doorway, staring at him questioningly. He stared back at the older through drunken eyes, blinking as the whole room spun around him (or maybe he was the one who was spinning) making it difficult to focus on the figure in front of him. "Bobby?"
"Yeah." Bobby answered, walking inside the kitchen. He suddenly noticed Dean swaying on his feet and he strode over to him and grabbed his elbow to steady the young man. "Think ya should sit down." Bobby advised gently, leading Dean to a chair and pushed lightly on his shoulder to sit him down, then walked over to grab a cool beer for himself from the fridge. Bobby took a chair for himself and sat across his surrogate son.
A tense silence surrounded them, filling the whole room.
That is, until it was broken when Bobby sighed sadly, exasperation clear on his face.
"So—how ya doing?" Bobby asked softly, even though he was aware that it was a stupid question, and the answer was obvious.
"What'd y'think, Bobby?" He said sarcastically, voice embarrassingly slurring a bit. "M'brother just chose a demon bitch over me, killed Lilith, one of the mos' powerful demons, with barely a blin' of a eye, brought an end to this world and released Satan. M'completely fine." He smiled mirthlessly.
Bobby exhaled heavily, "Don't be so hard on the kid boy. It ain't entirely his fault, ya know."
"What d'you mean?" Dean asked accusingly, raising his eyebrows as his jumbled head took it the wrong way. Was Bobby blaming him for all this?
"He was played by a demon, same way ya got fooled by the angels." Bobby explained.
"She was a demon! It should've been pretty damn obvious!" Dean slammed his fist not holding the bottle of Jack, on the table in anger, making it rattle slightly.
Bobby didn't even so much as flinch. "A demon that saved his life, Dean. The kid was alone for four months, without you, and he was desperate, the perfect time for that bitch to play on his emotions."
"He could've turned to you too rather than her!"
Bobby stared at him patiently, calm as the clouds in the sky. "He slipped into a deep depression those first days—like you when Sam died—an' nothing I told 'im would change that," He said, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table, staring intensely into Dean's emerald green eyes. "You only had to live with your brother dead for a few days—but Sam had to live without ya for four months, Dean."
Three heartbeats.
1
2
3
"That doesn't change anything. He trusted a demon Bobby and demons should never be trusted! The same monsters that destroyed our whole family damn it!" Dean yelled angrily, standing up abruptly as he punched on the table again.
Now Bobby's patience was wearing thin as he stood up, sending the chair toppling over a bit before it stood straight again, his own face etched into a snarl. "Why don't ya try to freakin' understand just what yer brother went through in those months?" He growled lowly through his gritted teeth, rage creeping into his voice. "They were hell for him! The stupid moron blamed 'imself, he thought it was his fault that you were being tortured in Hell! That guilt, pain and grief was eating away at Sam from the inside!"
Dean stood silently as his own face twisted into a snarl, before turning away from Bobby. "I'm gonna go upstairs and get some shut-eye. M'exhausted and I'm really not in the mood for any of this." He said flatly, effectively breaking the conversation as he walked away from the old hunter.
SPN
Sam was exhausted, fatigue draining the energy from his body but no matter how much he tired, he couldn't sleep. All the events of the past few days prevented him from doing so. He had just started the end of the world, had just hurt the one person who stood by him no matter what, had lost his trust. He knew Dean was angry—no—pissed at him, probably even hated him considering that voicemail.
God, that voicemail.
Sam swallowed convulsively against the lump in his throat, and reached into his jean's pocket for his cell phone. He hadn't deleted the message; instead he had saved it as a reminder of his place in Dean's life now. They would never be the same brothers that they once were ever again. Hell, they would never be brothers again, period. And he was the one who screwed that up too.
Sam felt his eyes sting, and he bit his lip and closed his eyes, before opening them again and reached out to put the phone on the nightstand beside his bed.
But before he could, the door swung open, interrupting Sam. He looked over and saw Dean standing in the doorway. His brother met his eyes, but Sam couldn't read them. Dean had always done a good job at hiding his emotions, but when Sam looked into his eyes, he could read them clearly no matter how much his brother tried to cover them. Now, either Dean's gotten better at hiding his feelings or Sam had suddenly gotten worse at reading him.
Dean broke the eye-contact and sat his duffle bag down on his bed, grabbed some clean clothes and left the bedroom. Sam heard the bathroom door close down the hall and the shower turn on, minutes later.
From the expression on Dean's face, Sam's brother had made it clear that they could never go back to what they once were, that Sam could never make things right after everything he had done, but Sam decided he'd be damned if he'd just sit back with his thumb up his ass and not do something about it, and not even try to fix things between them.
So he sighed softly, and lifted himself up on the bed with his elbows, sitting against the headboard as he waited for Dean to come out.
They were going to have a little talk.
SPN
Dean emerged with his night clothes on, steam wafting out of the bathroom. He moved slowly down the hall, not wanting to have to see the expression on his younger brother's face again. Sam had looked up at him with that damn kicked puppy expression and instead of melting Dean's heart as it usually did; it only made him even angrier. Entering the bedroom he shared with Sam, Dean cast his gaze over to his brother and noticed Sam was still awake, sitting against the headboard with his shoulders hunched as he stared off into space. Dean purposefully ignored his brother and proceeded to rub his hair with his towel as though he were the only one in the room. Sam looked up and immediately sat upright, scooting over to the end of the bed. "Dean."
Dean only ignored him. Sam received no response.
And it was in that moment that Sam wanted Dean to say something, do something. Snap at him, yell at him, or hit him, just — anything.
Because the silence hurt worse than anything that had ever happened to Sam.
"Dean, I just wanna talk, alright?" Sam tried again, his wide eyes and his tone pleading, "Please."
"I don't," Dean growled, not even bothering to hide the anger in his words.
Sam reached out a hand for his brother's shoulder. "Look, I know I hurt you but just listen to me for a seco—"
"I don't wanna fucking talk!" Dean snapped angrily, whirling around to face Sam an pushed his hand away.
Sam tried not to feel hurt by the fact that Dean didn't even want him to touch him. I guess I lost that right too, he thought sorrowfully to himself.
Sam slowly pulled his hand back, exhaling heavily. "Just give me a chance to explain Dean, please," He begged softly.
"I don't want an explanation either," Dean pushed past him to his bed.
"Damn it Dean! Just fucking listen to me for once!" Sam exploded in frustration, losing his calm.
"I don't need to listen to anything you have to say," Dean growled angrily, trying his best to keep his own rage in check.
Sam closed his eyes, breathed deeply for a moment, before opening them again, his expression tense but calm once again. "Dean," Sam started, reaching for his brother's shoulder once again.
But this time Dean didn't just push Sam's hand away, this time Sam was met with a fist to his jaw.
Sam startled from the blow, hand automatically shooting up to his face. He flexed his jaw to make sure it wasn't dislocated, pressing the back of his hand against his now bleeding lip.
"Dean—"
"I told you Sam that I didn't wanna talk!" Dean bellowed angrily, his voice lowering down to a growl. "But you didn't listen."
"Why aren't you listening to me?" Sam asked pleadingly.
"Because there's nothing you can say that will ever make this right!" Dean shouted furiously, standing right in his brother's personal space as he glared intensely into his green eyes, and for once they had no effect on him, too blinded by rage to care. His hands shot up to grab Sam's collar, pulled him from the edge of the bed and he slammed his silent brother to the wall. "This was all you, Sam. You started Armageddon! Brought the Devil on Earth! You betrayed me! And it was all you! Nobody forced you! Nobody pointed a gun to your head!" He released his brother's collar as he pulled himself away, the younger Winchester's head hitting on the wall behind him.
"It was all you." Dean whispered wearily, suddenly sounding and looking haggard and old from all the stress and weight on his shoulders as he turned away and bit his lip, wiping a hand roughly down his face.
Sam's lower lip trembled slightly, suddenly looking like the innocent nine-year-old kid Dean took care of when he scraped his knee on the sharp gravel as they walked through the woods to hunt down a black dog. "M'sorry, Dean." Sam whispered softly, voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah, whatever," Dean muttered as he climbed into his bed and lay down, covering himself with the quilt. He turned off the lamps without even waiting for Sam to get into his own bed.
Seconds later, sleep took Dean away into the dark. No dreams, just pure blackness.
Sam swallowed and bit his lip, stubbornly refusing to let the unshed tears flow down. He ducked his head down, letting his bangs cover his eyes as he dragged his feet towards his bed, as if carrying a heavy but invisible burden on his shoulders- which he might be- and climbed into his own bed, gazing at Dean's back. Usually, Dean would sleep on his stomach, face turned towards him. But not tonight.
"Good night Dean," He said softly into the dark room, not exactly expecting an answer.
But still hoping.
SPN
The next morning Sam woke up feeling like he was alone in the room. He glanced at the other bed- empty. He could hear muffled voices from downstairs, but he couldn't understand a word. He stared unseeingly at the ceiling for a while, just—staring, as if he's not sure what to do next, if he should get up or not.
As if he was trying to figure out if he should continue or not.
In the end, Sam ignored that feeling. He pushed himself up, planting his feet in the carpet as he stood upright, stretching his spine, and shuffled over to his duffel bag and picked out some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.
He went on fighting, because he was a Winchester.
W
Sam padded downstairs to the library where he could hear Bobby and Dean's voices, probably researching and discussing on how to stop the Apocalypse.
The Apocalypse he started; the mess he made. And they were the one cleaning it up.
Sam stopped in the doorway, standing awkwardly as he glanced at Dean. Their last conversation hadn't been very civilized and Sam was worried Dean would be pissed at him about it.
Their eyes met for a second, and Sam was the first one to look away.
The boys' behavior didn't go unnoticed by Bobby as he watched them.
But before the older hunter could so much as open his mouth, one of his many phones rang. He answered it and greeted with a grumpy "Singer here."
"Rufus, what the hell? Where are ya? River Pass, Colorado? What's going on?" Bobby paused, listening as his friend spoke, the grizzled hunter's face losing its colour as Rufus explained the situation. "I'll get there as soon as possible. Okay. You just keep yer shirt on." Bobby hung up the phone, his eyes turning on both of the brothers.
"Everything alright, Bobby?" Sam spoke up first.
"There's a horde of demons in River Pass and we need to move fast if we're gonna save the townsfolk."
"No Bobby, you stay here and focus on finding out how to stop Lucifer. Sam and I will go," Dean suggested immediately, surprising both his brother and Bobby.
"But—" Bobby argued. Rufus hadn't specified exactly how many demons they were looking at but it would be foolish to let the boys take this on alone, especially after their heated argument the night before. Bobby had tried not to overhear Sam and Dean- mostly Dean- yelling at each other after the oldest Winchester had decided to call it a night. After losing his boys and not knowing if they were alright only days ago, Bobby wasn't too keen on letting them out of his sight.
Dean insisted, however, "We got this Bobby."
Silence ensued before the old hunter sighed in defeat, nodding. "Alright then. Just don' do anything foolish. Come back in one piece, ya idjits."
Author's Note:
1. Fanfic title comes from a Shinedown song of the same name.
2. Thanks to BranchSuper, Samstruck, LAHH, SPN Mum, AlxM, and LeighAnnWallace for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/followed/favourited.
4. Please review! We love hearing from you!
