He had been sat in the car for over half an hour, plucking up either the will or the courage to enter. He was unsure which he feared facing more, Sam or his father. The big black truck was parked at the side of the house and Dean had not been on a hunt or home when his father had returned. He hated when his Dad was disappointed in him, and when it involved Sammy, as in leaving him alone for no good reason, he was always disappointed.
Dean had a fantasy to just march in there and, in reply to the inevitable question, would just state the truth. 'My 'little' brother, who I want to fuck, caught me jerking off in the shower thinking about him, so instead, I went out and have spent the last two nights tied to a bed getting my brains fucked out by a man, who looked an awful lot like you Dad. He already gave me a good beating, so you don't need to.' Not that his father ever had, not from anger anyway, but he was still the better fighter, even now in his mid forties.
But if John did give him 'what for', it would still be preferable to facing Sammy. There was no way he had not seen what Dean had been doing in the bathroom. He had walked in on him while he had got his dick in his hand and had seen how he was punishing himself for it. Dean looked at his hand now, flexing the fingers, then turned the key in the ignition.
"Dean!" Sam called as he ran down the steps to stop him from driving away. He had watched his brother sit there since hearing the distinctive sound of the Impala pull up and could practically read Dean's mind. The car stopped and before his brother could prevent him, he jumped into the passenger seat. "If you're going to drive off again, you're taking me with you." Sam stated then sat there waiting.
Sighing, Dean switched off the engine and got out of the car. Sam watched, noting how stiffly he moved, as if he had been hurt but kept his distance and peace following Dean into the house, praying that Dad had listened to him and would not let rip against his oldest son.
"Dean."
"Sir?" not looking at him, just waiting.
John Winchester studied his eldest son, and once more cursed the day that Mary had been taken, murdered, and the lives they should have had, stolen. He could say or do nothing to punish his son for his neglect that would be half as bad as what he suspected Dean did to himself. "Get your gear. We've got a hunt and I need you. Sammy, we'll be gone for about a week."
"Yes Sir."
"No."
They both turned to look at the youngest member of the clan in disbelief, John at the audacity and Dean at the stupidity.
"What did you say?" and "Sammy, please." Both at the same time, but Sam stood up straight, looking into his father's eyes. "I said, no. Either you don't go or you take me with you. But I won't be left here on my own."
"You will do as you're told." controlled anger in John's voice. His sons had never argued that tone.
"No. Stop treating me like a kid!" Sounding petulant, Sam stopped the impulse to stamp a foot, or hit his father.
"Then stop acting like one. Dean, get your gear. Don't make me tell you again." And the eldest jumped to his command but his youngest just stood staring defiance and, he noticed for the first time, straight into his eyes. Sam did not physically look up to him anymore, and had also become stubborn. "I don't have time for this."
"You never do." Sam could have cried he felt so angry. His father had only been home a couple of hours and now they were both going to go off and leave him again.
"There's a suspected 'Harvester'. People are getting hurt. Killed!" Why could Sam never understand? Why did he always have to question everything?
"I don't care. People get hurt all the time."
"Sam! You don't mean that." begged Dean, dumping his duffle by his feet.
"Yes I do. All you both care about is swooping in, killing something and riding off into the sunset." waving his arms about emphatically.
"People need us." trying to reason with him, playing for time so that look would leave their father's face. Dean despised it when they fought like this and it was getting near every time they were in the same room.
"And what about me? What if I need you?" swinging around to look at Dean, who immediately looked like he had just been stabbed.
"Sam! Stop this. Dean, get in the truck." John Winchester ordered, his patience stretched to snapping.
Dean looked torn. He wanted to do as his father told him, but he could not leave his brother like this. He had been afraid to be near him, but now he was more afraid to leave him behind. Who knew what he would do? He turned to his father. "Couldn't he come with us?"
John swung to look at him furious but, seeing the pain in those clear green eyes so like Mary's, he relented, but only a little. "He's not ready. Proved that last time."
"That's not true!"
"Sammy shut up. Sir. Please. I'll watch out for him. He won't get hurt, I promise." Dean was earnest, his whole stance one of supplication.
"Like last time?" raising an eyebrow.
"That's not fair. It wasn't Dean's fault." Sam interjected angrily.
"No, it wasn't." John snapped, swinging back around to face Sam. "It was mine for thinking you could handle yourself. For thinking your brother had been training you properly." verbally slapping them both in the face, getting two distinctly different reactions.
"How can I learn if you won't let me do anything but stay at home?"
"I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise." One brother looking up, one down.
He did have a point, John supposed, but he could not bare it if Sam got hurt, either of them, he admonished himself, but Dean could take care of himself. "You're still too young." trying for a reasoning, conciliatory tone.
It didn't work as Sam dragged in breath to start a fresh tirade, but Dean grabbed his arm and spoke quietly to his ear, "Go get your stuff." then turned to their father.
"Please, Sir. I'll look after him. He's right. He needs experience or he'll never be any good. And if we leave him, I think he'll just follow us." He would if it was him being left behind on his own.
John studied his oldest son, still a teenager himself but old past his years, and once more felt a regret so deep for what he had had to go through. "You'll watch out for him?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You won't let him get hurt?"
"No, Sir."
"You gonna tell me about the black eye, or why you're walking like you got you're ass beaten?"
Not his ass exactly, just the rest of him, but Dean could say nothing and just looked at the floor ashamed. "Okay." His father relented, knowing he was unlikely to be told the truth anytime soon, "But anything happens to him, I'll hold you responsible and, he rides in the car with you. I don't think I could put up with either of you at the moment. Get moving." He commanded signalling with a swift finger.
"Yes Sir." and Dean ran upstairs to get Sam, conscious of being scrutinised by his father. For an awful moment there, he had thought the man knew what he had been up to the last couple of days. But if John knew, Dean was sure he would be getting a beating far worse than any of those his 'lovers' had given him. -
Four hours into a trip, where Sam had managed to get one of his tapes chewed up and had rattled on about this and that making Dean smile inside, his brother had finally gotten to the point. "What did you say to him?" not needing to say who.
"That if you got hurt, I'd kick your ass." Dean answered with an affectionate smile.
Sam laughed, "What did you really say?"
There was no point not answering, but he watched the road for a while anyway until he was asked again. "So?"
"That you're an impatient pain in the ass." Dean sighed and glancing over, admitted, "I promised I'd watch out for you. Make sure you don't get hurt."
Sam was indignant, now his brother was treating him like he was a kid as well as their father. "I don't need watching out for!" anger coming from every pore.
"Now you're an ungrateful pain in my ass." concentrating on the blacktop in front of them.
"I can take care of myself."
"Uh-Uh."
"Owe! What the hell did you do that for?" rubbing at his head where the back of Dean's fist had just hit him.
"You didn't see that coming did you?" smirking but serious all the same.
"Damn it!" still rubbing his head, looking reproachfully at his brother.
"Seriously, Sammy. You gotta keep your eyes open. You gotta be ready. I promise, I'll look out for you, but I can't always be there. You gonna have to fend for yourself."
Still indignant, mainly at being caught off guard and proving his father right, Sam demanded, "For when you go off and leave me again? Who was she this time? A bartender? A Waitress? Some whore?"
"That's enough. You wanted to come. You're here. It was me that changed Dad's mind and I can just as easily take you back home." Ungrateful bastard and it had been far from easy. It would be damned hard to take him back as well. Dean loved having his brother in the car beside him, admittedly it was usually on the 'school run', but any time spent alone with Sam, that he allowed himself, he enjoyed, even in some weird way when they were fighting. He would then at least have his brother's full attention.
Sam sulked, cross-armed, staring out of the passenger window. Worst of all Dean was right. Dad would never listen to him but Dean was another matter. He sat and fumed. He was jealous about his brother and father's relationship. He wished his Dad thought as much about him, but he also wished his brother did too. "Why don't you like spending time with me any more?" then froze. How the hell had that thought slipped out?
Dean glanced at Sam, unsure he had heard him correctly and decided he had, but did not respond. Sam was not looking at him and he could easily wait for that conversation. But the silence got louder, despite the music booming from the speakers Dean had hustled hard to get the money for, and he found he had a lot less patience than Sam. "I'm sorry." heartfelt and barely audible over the classic rock.
"Then why?" Sam asked, the anger leaving as swiftly as it had come.
How could Dean tell him? He did not want to lie, but there was no way he could tell Sammy the truth. So he settled on telling him half of it, the safe half. "When I'm on a hunt, obviously I can't be here, but when I'm back I need time to myself. To unwind. And sometimes that means I want company. Female company." He added hastily, "Do you understand? Sammy, there are some things you just can't do for Me." said with a smile in his voice, while he lied to them both.
'I could if you let me', Sam thought, but that was only in his own twisted psyche. He knew that, and he was intelligent enough to be able to rationalise the lusting after his older brother. It was not as if he had not had enough time on his own to think about it. He was a teenager, and he was lonely, and the person closest to him, the one that had always been around when all else kept changing, was his brother. Sam found he had a lot of trouble making and maintaining any kind of friendship as they moved about so much, but Dean was constant. That was why, he was of the opinion, Dean slept with so many different women. His brother too, did not know how to form lasting relationships.
He had had far too much time to mope around and think. "I suppose." Sam grudgingly admitted. "But even when you're home you don't want to be with me."
"That's not true." Looking at him, but all Dean could see was the back of Sam's head. He turned the music down, glancing between the road and his brother. He had to keep Dad's truck in sight or there would be hell to pay if they got left behind. "I'm not going to talk to you if you won't look at me."
"You should be watching the road anyway."
Fifteen year olds could be such a pain in the ass. This one was at any rate. "Fine!" And the music blared once more, conversation over. ===
=000=
One toilet and food stop, and two and a half hours of loud not speaking later, Dean finally pulled into a motel parking lot next to the big black Dodge as his father jumped out and moved stiffly to Reception. They stayed put till signalled to follow and John handed Dean a key. "You two take that one. I'm next door so keep the noise down." And yawning, he turned and headed off, away from his room and, Dean thought, no doubt to the nearest bar. With Sam grabbing the key off him and letting himself into the room, Dean wished he could go with him.
He grabbed both bags from the car and entering threw one at Sam, "Forget something?" and was quietly pleased that his brother caught it before it hit him.
"Has Dad always been this cheap?" Sam asked disgustedly, looking around the room and moving to peer disdainfully into the bathroom.
"Yeah." Laughing as he, in turn inspected the nearest bed. It looked clean but very floral. But it was horizontal and, after quickly making the room secure, so was Dean. "At least we're not sharing a room with him."
Sam came out of the bathroom and stood looking down the length of his brother stretched out, arms akimbo. He smiled and sat on the bed next to him. "I promise I won't get in the way."
"You could never be in the way, Sammy." Dean assured him looking off at the wall.
"I'm fifteen not five. Don't call me 'Sammy'."
"Okay Samuel… Oomph" as a hand slapped him in the stomach.
"But thanks." Sam said, sounding sheepish.
Dean looked up at him from one eye. There was that blush he loved reddening Sam's cheeks and Dean raised himself up on elbows, watching his younger brother intently. "Thanks for what?"
Sam dropped his head, it was adorable, "For standing up to Dad for me and … for what you just said."
Dean turned on to his side, facing his brother, and pushed back the hair hanging over his eyes. Sam always looked like he needed a hair cut but Dean had given up telling him so years ago. The brunette strands fell forwards again so he repeated his action, as Sam turned to gaze down at him, and tried to tuck it behind his brother's ear but it would not stay.
Dean would probably have carried on but felt the hand pressing on his chest, then Sam leant in towards him. He rolled off the bed, away from him, unable to stifle the grown of protest from his aching muscles and abused skin. "Do you want first shower, or can I take it?" asking Sam, but not being able to look at him. There was no way Sam had been about to do what he longed for him to do. He had to get a grip on himself. He was imagining things.
"You can." Came the reply, and Dean fled into the small room, not noticing the dejection in his brother's eyes. ===
=000=
It took a long time for Sam to get to sleep that night, but not as long as Dean, as he lay there listening to his brother toss and turn, then finally sleep. It was not long before the nightmare started as Dean knew it would. They were on the road again and that always made it worse. Sam called out in his sleep and Dean went to him before his cries could wake their dad in the next room.
Kneeling by the bed, he stroked his brother's forehead whispering to him "It's alright Sammy. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you." Sam bucked in his sleep fighting something Dean could not know and he continued with his reassurances.
Slowly Sam settled, turning towards him as he continued to stroke his hair, his face. If Sam were aware, his heart would have swelled at the expression on his brother's face as he looked down at him. Dean looked on his younger brother with such love and compassion, a promise that he would always be there for him, he would do anything to keep him safe. He would go to the ends of the earth for him and beyond if it was what Sam needed him to do.
Finally, Sam lapsed into a peaceful sleep and, leaning over, Dean kissed his forehead chastely then returned to his own bed to also finally sleep. Grateful to the pain in his body, reminding him that he did not need Sam to fulfil that part of his life, he should never let himself succumb to the temptation. He would endeavour to protect Sam from all dangers, including those that he posed himself. ===
Another day in the car, another motel, and the three of them sat around the room keeping their own council whilst preparing weapons and themselves. The silence was heavy in the aftermath of the latest argument.
John was seething. If Sam thought he was old enough, good enough, to be an effective part of this hunt, he should be used in the most advantageous position. Amazingly his youngest son agreed with him, and it had made him sort of glow inside to know that Sam trusted him enough to believe he would be safe, that his father knew how to and, would protect him.
Sam kept glancing from one to the other of the men in the room with him. He could do this, he would not freak out and knew he would be safe. There was no way Dean would let him get hurt, no matter what happened. For once he actually agreed with Dad.
Dean felt off kilter. It just wasn't right. How dare their father put Sammy in such danger and how could Sam defend him? It went against everything he was used to, Sam siding with Dad against him. He always did what John wanted, usually without question, but this was different. This involved Sammy. This involved using his younger brother as bait. He would have to back down, but he did not have to like it and at this moment, he wished his father would just leave. Just go away and leave him and Sammy alone to get on with their lives.
He would make a good life for Sam, Dean knew he could. He could maybe get a job doing up cars, become a mechanic. He smiled to himself unaware that the others noticed. It would be a specialist garage, only dealing with classic and vintage cars, and he would never need to steal parts or hustle pool or people to keep his baby in top condition. He thought of the Impala and the day John had finally handed over the keys. Why could life not be like it had been on that day all the time? He was sure the sun had even been shinning.
And his other pride and joy would do well at school, and get into a good collage. His mind drifted off into summer vacations with Sam home helping him with the cars, and then later, with their kids running around getting underfoot as their wives laughed at their antics. It could be so good. He could make it so, he knew it.
"Can we get something to eat?"
"Sure, Sammy." In stereo and Dean and his father looked at each other, both with a realisation that perhaps John was being slowly replaced. It did not sit well with either of them, but for differing reasons.
"It's Sam." The youngest stated, oblivious to the renewed tension in the air.
John stood and retrieving his wallet, handed Sam some notes. "Go get us something from that Diner round the corner."
"Can't we go out?" reluctantly taking the money.
"No. I need to talk to your brother." And felt indignant once more at the look he received from his youngest son, as if he believed he was going to beat Dean or something.
"I won't be long." As if a warning and it kind of made John smile at Sam's back as he slammed out of the room feeling excluded yet again.
John turned to his other son, who just sat staring at the gun part he'd been cleaning held limply in his hand. "Do you honestly think I would put your brother in danger needlessly?" and felt a stab at the look he received before the head ducked again. He moved over, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. He was not used to being in conflict with this, his normally obedient child. Man, he had to remind himself, and an obviously very protective one. Well, that's what he had asked of him all those years ago, and, he thought ruefully, that maybe now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
Dean slumped a little under the weight and sighing said, "No, Sir." giving up, not easily, but the immediate future was inevitable. He would obey his father and trust in him.
John pulled around the other hard chair and sat facing his son. "Is there something you want to say to me?" his tone light and confidential. He could sense so much going on in that head or, more accurately, heart and was sure Dean was in pain and not just in the way he moved.
"I don't think Sammy is cut out for this life. I want him to have a different one." Dean did not get many chances to really talk to his father like this so he took it.
John sighed, wanting Dean to look at him, wishing that maybe he would think about himself a little more and his brother a little less. "I wanted, planned a different life for all of us, but that's not going to happen. We just have to make the best of it and ensure that Sammy is equipped to survive the one we have." It tore his heart that his words made Dean look close to tears. "But enough of Sam. I meant you. Is there anything you want to tell me, about you?"
"No, Sir." There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted his father to admit, but Dean just stared at the floor, looking through the ugly nylon carpet.
John hesitated, then put his rough hand against his son's face, cupping his jaw gently, lifting his face, encouraging him to finally look at him. His thumb very lightly brushed against the bruised skin around the eye. "And this?"
Dean, with a slight laugh, "Sam got a good one past me." and smiled fondly.
"And these?" as John touched his son's stomach with his other hand. He had taken an educated guess from the way he had been moving and, sure enough, Dean winced as the fingers prodded his ribs. But his son just pulled away, leaning back in the chair saying nothing, looking at nothing. Well, he had tried, but he would not push, so standing wearily, he cupped Dean's face once more adding, "If you change your mind, speak to me. I'll try to help if I can." he knew there was something, his son was hurting but he was not exactly sure how or why.
It was sudden, and John found himself startled as Dean grabbed onto him, still sat there but arms around his waist, holding on tightly, face pushed into his stomach. He regretted his hesitation, then enfolded him back, hand stroking his head. It should have been automatic but John had had to think about it. Then he waited.
"Dad? When we finish here, can you… stay with us for a while? Sammy needs you around and I .. I want you around. Just for a while?"
He heard the yearning, the 'd' word and not 'sir', but life was life, "That depends on what's out there."
Dean stiffened, pulling back to look up at him. Slight accusation in his voice and thinking of Sam, always thinking of Sam, "But its Sam's birthday in a month. Can't you even stay for that? He's gonna be sixteen. Sixteen Dad! It's important. He won't be a kid anymore. Do you remember my sixteenth birthday?"
John thought back, but no, he could not, "No, I don't. What did we do?"
Dean pulled away and stood, throwing the barrel onto the table, "Nothing! You weren't there! Sam baked me a cake. Nearly set fire to the kitchen and it tasted awful, but I ate it. I ate it all because he baked me a cake for my sixteenth birthday and you, weren't, there. You didn't even remember. No card, no present, not that I expected one, but you didn't even remember." And then the rising anger and resentment just disappeared, he did not have the energy for it. "Please. Don't make me be the only one to remember Sam's sixteenth birthday."
"No."
Dean could have hit him right then and there. "No? Why the Hell not?"
"Don't you dare raise your voice to me, boy!"
Dean did not apologise but John let it go, he could not stand to see that much hurt in his son's eyes. He calmed down, "I meant, I won't make you be the only one."
Oh, the look of hope and relief on the young man's face tugged at his heart once more, and he moved to his son, just as the door opened and Sam came in with the smell of food. John and Dean just looked at each other, and he knew, that if he was not there for Sam's birthday, Dean would never forgive him, and he would never be able to look his eldest child in the eyes again. ===
TBC===
