THREADS - Chap. 2

-oOo-

Sam had dozed off whilst reading and was sprawled in one of the armchairs in the bunker's main room, the book balanced at a precarious angel on his lap. He jumped awake instantly in response to the sound of the bunker's door opening. He quickly rubbed one hand across his face as he sat himself up right, not wanting to provide an opportunity for sarcasm or jibes. He turned to acknowledge his brother as Dean descended the stairs leading from the main entry point to the bunker.

"Hey."

Sam glanced at his watch and frowned. He had expected Dean to be out until late, but instead he was back far sooner than Sam had assumed he would be and Sam wasn't entirely certain what to make of his brother's comparatively early return.

"Have a good time?"

Dean still hadn't spoken.

"Meal ok? I'm surprised to see you, I didn't expected you'd be back till late. No problems I hope?"

At the bottom of the stairs Dean stopped, finally turning to look in Sam's direction, his face set in a closed mask of neutrality.

"So...What? We're socialisin' now? What happened to partners, nothin' more?...Just so's you know, I'm goin' to spend some time in the library checkin' somethin' out, alright? No need for you to bother about stoppin' off to say goodnight. Oh, an' before you decide to come knockin', I can sort myself out if there's anythin' I want."

Biting back the temptation to make some scathing reply, Sam focused instead on the one topic he figured Dean might actually talk to him about.

"Did you found a possible job for us?"

"Maybe, dunno for sure. That's why I need to check somethin' out. If it does look like it's anythin' that could be a case, don't worry. I'll let you know if it looks like it might need the both of us.

Sam watched as his brother disappeared off down a corridor, noting how stiff and tense Dean's back and shoulders were, how his walk lacked it's usual energy, how Dean's hands remained firmly stuffed inside the pockets of his jacket. Sam spun away, dragging both hands over his head and through his hair in frustration. He had no idea how to bring Dean back, wasn't certain if he could, or even whether he should. The words had been said, and Dean wasn't likely to go for the quick I'm sorry, let's forget I was ever pissed at you.. Sam knew, neither of them could carry on this way. If things didn't improve, eventually one of them would probably take the decision to leave.

-o-

Dean switched the computer off in disgust. Glancing at his watch, he realised he'd been chasing down links for nearly three hours, and he had zilch to show for it. The case he hoped he'd found after seeing the show back at the bar had turned out to be a bust, something called Megallion's Disease. Seemed it was one of those things that some said was real, and others said was some kind of psychological phenomenon, a thing that didn't exist outside the minds of the women who claimed to be sufferers. Whatever. All Dean now knew is that it wasn't their...his kind of thing. Turning off the lights, Dean walked out of the library. Once out on the corridor, he hesitated, wondering whether Sam had gone to bed yet? He could have done with a beer, but didn't fancy the idea of bumping into his so called partner and all the feelings that it would bring bubbling to the surface again. With a muttered curse, Dean turned and headed in the direction of his room, promising himself that the following day he wasn't going to stop searching until he had found a job, however crappy it seemed to be.

-o-

Sam reached over and flicked the light on his alarm clock, 4.30am. Rolling over, he closed his eyes and, for a time, tried to lose himself in sleep again. Instead, he continued to feel more and more awake until, finally, he gave up.

-o-

Outside the closed door, Sam tried telling himself that he hadn't meant to head to the library, that it was a pure coincidence which led to him standing there, staring at the door. Hesitating, he found himself raising a hand, ready to knock. Annoyed at himself, he stuffed his hand in his pocket instead, telling himself that he didn't have to knock; he had as much right to go in there as Dean did. Even so, Sam turned away and walked slowly back to his room where he took himself back to bed, eventually drifting into an unsettled, restless sleep.

-o-

As with every other morning since Sam had fractured his core, Sam's words that night were the first thing Dean thought about when he woke. And as he had every morning since, Dean buried his hurt and grief under anger and sarcasm. It was wearing him down, and he knew it. He had to find a job, some reason to get out of the bunker for a while and away from Sam's gaze, away from Sam himself. Throwing back the bed covers, he quickly got up and dressed then headed to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. He was relieved to find the kitchen empty, staying in there just long enough to make coffee before making his way back to the library, once more shutting himself inside, this time turning the key in the lock.

-o-

Sam told himself that he was merely giving himself a treat that morning. He'd allowed himself a dozy lay in, only hauling himself out of bed when he felt ready. He followed this with a long, hot shower, and dressed himself in light grey sweat pants and an ancient, out of shape white tee. Ignoring his boots, he instead tugged on a pair of scruffy trainers which had seen far better days. Eventually, however, he ran out of excuses to hang around in his room and, steeling himself, he set off in the direction of the kitchen.

-o-

It was clear that Dean had already been in there by the fresh coffee sat on the coffee machine's hot plate. Filling a mug, Sam forced himself to remain in the kitchen rather than immediately escaping back to his room and he sat at the table sipping slowly at the slightly over strong brew. He had vague thoughts about cooking breakfast, hoping the smell of it cooking might tempt Dean down, but then he remembered what was in the refrigerator, and banished the idea. Sam was never normally against the idea of happily sitting around, with no pressure, devoting his day to reading books out of pure interest, rather than skim-reading those which were necessary to whatever job he and his bro...Dean, had taken on. Sam was also one to generally appreciate peace and quiet. This day however, for whatever reason, seemed to stretch emptily, never endingly, ahead of him and, he was already bored. It never really struck Sam previously exactly how much he and Dean talked to one another. Despite living, travelling and working together, they never seemed to struggle for conversation. In fact, there were days when Dean seemed to be talking continuously leaving Sam really wishing he'd just shut up, even if only for a minute. Now though, for almost a month, there had been ever lengthening silences between them. The time they spent just being in the same room as one another had also become rarer, so feeding and stretching those long silences still further until here they were, almost complete. The realisation hit Sam with a physical jolt; his moment to choose had arrived, while it was still possible. It was time to choose whether he wanted to stop those thick threads of silence from closing in, weaving themselves together to form their own hedge of thorns to stand between himself and Dean, or whether he would be content to live with the continued sound of his and Dean's silence, knowing for certain that it would eventually sever completely whatever remaining ties were left between them? Sam decided it was no contest. Like it or not, he was a Hunter, and that meant he didn't give up without a fight. First he needed a reason for Dean and himself to spend time together, he needed to find them a case. His movements were quick, purposeful; as he made his way to the library.

-o-

Sitting back from the computer screen, Dean picked up the sheet of paper that was covered with his hurriedly scribbled notes, and began to scan through what little his time searching had unearthed so far. There was the haunting of a small mid-west hotel. While the tale had proven good for business for a number of years, no one had complained. But when, more recently, people who stayed there began to develop unexplained injuries, the numbers then beginning to increase, along with the severity, suddenly the owners decided they wanted something done. They had already hired someone, their name very familiar to Dean, Ghost Facer's. Dean decided that he couldn't really cope with facing the Ghost Facers, so his scrawled an X through that possible job. He spent a little more time considering a spate of deaths where the deceased had each begun to proclaim they had some impossible skill, in one case a woman began to claim she could fly, an ex-army vet. Announced to his family that he was stronger than Superman, another guy claimed he didn't just walk over hot coals, but that he was totally inflammable. Whatever the half dozen or so individuals claimed, that was pretty much how they died; throwing themselves off tall buildings, trying to stop an on-coming train with their bare hands, setting themselves alight, and so on. Dean put a question mark by that possibility. Then there was coma guy laid up in hospital and needing 24 hour care. Oddly though, friends and neighbours also claimed to have seen him out and about, seemingly fit and healthy, but always in areas where not long after the guy was supposedly spotted, there would be a pretty devastating RTA. Dean figured the guy was probably in the coma as a result of having suffered an RTA of his own. Dean looked up when he heard the sound of someone trying to open the door to the library.

-o-

Sam automatically grasped the library door handle and went to push the door open, momentarily surprised when the door resisted and remained firmly closed. Another shove at the door proved that the first time wasn't a fluke, the door itself was locked. Sam hesitated, guessing that Dean had locked himself in the library very intentionally. The thought instantly had Sam feeling angry.

"Dean? I know you're in there. Get this door unlocked will you? I need to do some research."

Inside, Dean rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch, realising he had been sat there for close on three hours. Telling himself it was about time he took a break, he logged off and stood up, stretching his back and arms before slowly heading towards the door.

-o-

Hearing no reply, Sam was about to ensure Dean wouldn't be able to claim he hadn't heard Sam knock this second time, when the sound of a chair being moved stopped him from hammering louder. He heard the key being turned and the door opened to reveal Dean's disinterested glance before he silently walked past Sam. Dean was already heading away down the corridor before Sam heard a couldn't-care-less All yours. Sam said nothing out loud, but Dean heard the library door being closed with a little more force than was altogether necessary; Dean discovered he gained no sense of satisfaction from having managed to irritate Sam so quickly.

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Thank you for reading :) Chick xx