Memory of His Last Breath: Chapter 2
The Impala cruised down Main Street, past all the businesses that were as dark and empty as Dean felt. He knew he should feel something, but once he left the motel room, once he was away from his brother, it was as if his emotions had locked themselves out of his conscious reach.
He lowered the driver side window, and relished the feel of the wind caressing his face. Taking deep lungfuls of air, he realized he could breathe again. Maybe this was all he needed, just some time and space to drive aimlessly around the small town in the only sanctuary he'd ever known.
His cell phone rang. He wasn't ready to answer it yet. He knew it was Sam, but he checked the caller ID anyway. He was more than shocked to see the cell's display revealed it had been two hours since he left Sam. My, how time flies when you're trying to block all thoughts of your death.
Damn, that thought certainly was a sneaky little bitch. He tried to push it once again to the back of his mind, but damn was it stubborn. He had died. Died and gone to hell. Dean's hands started to tremble and he gripped the wheel tighter as the images from his nightmare flared in his mind.
It was more than he was able to stand, forcing Dean to pull over on the side of the road. Steel bands of fear and despair wrapped themselves around his chest, making his breaths come in short, quick gasps. Dots swam in his vision. He had to get out of the car, get out now!
He threw the door open and propelled himself out into the night. He landed on his hands and knees in the dirt on the edge of the roadway. Remaining on the ground, Dean moved until his back was pressed up against the side of the car. His whole body was wracked with tremors at this point, his eyes were squeezed shut against the tears that threatened to fall, and his hands clutched his chest trying to stave off the phantom pains from his death.
SPNSPNSPN
Sam paced the motel floor for possibly the hundredth time. Guilt and worry were at war inside of him. He should have handled this better, he should have told Dean that first night he had returned. But instead he had let Dean believe he had simply disappeared.
And there had been so many times when Dean just looked at him with unspoken questions in his eyes, like he knew something was off but didn't want to ask. Sam could have told him then. Dean's words replayed themselves in his head, "You were just going to wait until I was blind-sided by some damn memory?"
Sam laughed bitterly as he mumbled to himself, "That's exactly what I did. And you deserved more than that."
He angrily wiped the few sparse tears that still fell on occasion. The should haves and could haves were driving him to the brink of insanity. Damn, where the hell was Dean. He shouldn't be alone right now. But he is, all because of me.
He picked up his cell again. His last call went unanswered but maybe Dean will pick up this time. He needed to know his brother was okay, at least physically if not emotionally.
SPNSPNSPN
Dimly, Dean became aware his cell was ringing again. He groped in his pocket and pulled it out with unsteady hands.
"Sammy…" Dean whispered raggedly.
"Dean, where are you?" Sam's worry was clear in his voice.
"I don't…I'm not sure." Dean blinked in confusion, he honestly wasn't sure at this point where in town he was. The hand holding the phone dropped to his side as he craned his neck, hoping for a glimpse of a street sign.
"Dean?…Dean!" Sam's panicked shout came through the phone.
Dean quickly replaced the phone to his ear, "I'm here. I think I might be on Burton Avenue."
"Are you still driving?" Sam asked.
"No, I couldn't…I had to stop…" Dean's voice faded to silence.
"Dean, listen to me. Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can." As he was talking, Sam looked out the motel room window to consider which of the lucky cars in the lot would get to be hot-wired.
"Just hurry."
SPNSPNSPN
It didn't take Sam long to locate his brother. The black Impala gleamed like a beacon in the moonlight as Sam parked behind her. Quickly exiting the Honda that he had "borrowed", he rounded the Impala and came to a sudden stop. His brother was sitting on the ground against the rear driver's side door. Dean's knees were pulled into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His head rested on his arms, his face turned away from Sam.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam cautiously walked closer to his brother, not wanting to startle him.
"M'okay." Dean replied in a flat emotionless voice. He slowly lifted his head to look in Sam's direction with pain-filled eyes. "Shouldn't have left, not your fault."
For once, Sam was at a complete loss as for what to do. His big brother, the strongest person he knew, seemed so lost and broken. He had never seen Dean like this, not even after their father had died.
"Dean, let's head back to the motel." Sam reached out a hand to help his brother up, but Dean didn't move a muscle. Just continued to stare at Sam with those gut-wrenching eyes.
"Don't think I can get back in the car, not enough air in there." The last few words were said in a whisper.
Sam crouched in front of Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can't stay on the side of the road. Especially with a stolen car parked a few feet away."
"Okay, Sammy, we'll go." Dean gingerly climbed to his feet with some help from Sam, who then led him to the passenger side. When Dean was fully in his seat, Sam closed the door and ran around to the driver's side.
Once behind the wheel, Sam pulled onto the road without another glance at the hot-wired car he was leaving behind.
SPNSPNSPN
Back at the hotel, both boys had settled into their beds. Watching the shadows dance across the ceiling while lost in their own thoughts, neither was able to sleep.
Dean hadn't said another word since climbing into the car. He was physically unable to burden his brother with his runaway thoughts. He knew arguing with Sam earlier was uncalled for. In truth, he didn't blame Sam for not telling him. It's not like he was quick to tell Sam that he had died. And if it wasn't for Jake telling him, Sam probably still wouldn't know.
After his little freak-out on the side of the road, Dean decided he had to find a better way to deal with this. He caused Sam undo worry, and most likely a whole ration of undeserved guilt. Because that was how Sam worked. The kid blamed himself for many things that weren't his fault.
So, he had died. The important thing was, he wasn't dead anymore. Now he just needed to focus on the how and why.
Sam's unruly thoughts were almost in line with Dean's. He knew the only way to control the situation was to figure out who or what brought his brother back and find out if there was an ulterior motive. Which was what Bobby and he were attempting to do before the hunt for the soucouyant.
SPNSPNSPN
"Come on Sleeping Beauty, up and at'em." Sam opened his bleary eyes and saw Dean standing by the table, coffee cup in his hand. "I got some breakfast, hope you don't mind doughnuts. I even got you one of your girly coffees, mocha-almond-vanilla-something or other."
Sam yawned as he sat up, "Thanks. What time is it?"
With a quick glance at his watch, Dean replied, "Almost eight. I want to get on the road soon, so get your ass out of bed."
Sam laughed, "My, aren't you Miss Mary Sunshine this morning."
"I'm just eager to get back to Bobby's to research." Dean's eyes slid to the floor as he talked.
Sam studied Dean for a moment. Judging by the ever-present dark circles under his eyes, it wasn't likely he got much, if any, sleep last night. And the fact he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, led Sam to assume his current cup of coffee hadn't been his first this morning. But, other than that, Dean's game face was locked into place and his whole I'm-fine-Sammy act was in full swing.
"Just give me fifteen minutes, then I'll be ready." Sam grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel and headed towards the bathroom.
SPNSPNSPN
Driving as if he were trying to qualify for the Daytona 500, Dean managed to get them back to Bobby's just before midnight. After going over the hunt with Bobby, the three men said their goodnights and went to bed.
It was well into the wee hours of the morning, and still Dean was unable to sleep. Figuring there were much better things he could be doing than tossing and turning, he climbed out of his bed as quietly as he could. He padded barefoot out of the room and down the stairs.
Grabbing the weapons bag, Dean sat on the couch and began to slowly and carefully clean the guns and sharpen the knives. When he was done with their weapons he started on some of Bobby's. It was busy work that helped chase away the restlessness he has felt since the night before.
"Dean? What are you doin' up this early?" Dean glanced up from his task to see Bobby enter the living room. Noticing for the first time the post-dawn light flooding the room, Dean was relieved the night was over.
Bobby's eyes took in the weapons that were spread around the room on the various end tables and such. Dean had a look on his face like he didn't quite know how to answer. "You didn't sleep a wink, did you?"
A ghost of a smile crossed Dean's lips, "Can't sleep, the clowns will eat me."
"Cute." Bobby moved across the room to join him on the couch. "You wanna tell me what else happened in Nelson?"
His face completely expressionless, Dean replied, "I remembered dying. I remembered the hellhounds ripping my body to shreds while my little brother watched helplessly."
Bobby's face paled, "Dean-"
"It's okay, I'm fine. Just anxious to start my research. You making breakfast now?"
Bobby stared at Dean in veiled amazement. Dean had gone from the topic of his death to breakfast without batting an eye. He decided it was probably best to leave it alone for now. "You offerin' to help?"
"Sure, but only if Sam has to do all the clean-up." Dean, cheered by that thought, returned all the weapons to where they belonged and followed Bobby into the kitchen.
SPNSPNSPN
It was several nights later when Sam awoke to a heavy silence. He focused his sleepy eyes on his brother's bed and found the reason for the quiet. Dean wasn't there.
Sam sighed wearily. He knew Dean had been sneaking out of bed every night. Bobby had mentioned to Sam that he usually found Dean cleaning weapons or reading in the early morning hours. As far as he knew, Dean hadn't slept since they arrived at Bobby's.
Sam climbed out of bed with the intention of finding his brother and putting a stop to this. He traipsed down the stairs and into the living room.
Dean looked up from the book he was reading when Sam entered. "What are you doing up?"
Sam sat down next to Dean on the couch, "I could ask you the same thing."
"Just research," Dean replied, pointing to the book.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I can see that. I meant, what are you doing up now? You do know it's the middle of the night, don't you?"
Dean avoided his brother's eyes as he answered, "I couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't sleep or wouldn't sleep?" Sam pointedly glared at a mug still half-filled with black coffee on the end table.
Dean sighed, "Sam-"
"No Dean, don't bother denying it," Sam interrupted sharply. "Do you think I don't see what you're doing?"
With annoyance creeping into his voice, Dean snapped, "Drop it, Sam."
"Just tell me why you won't let yourself sleep."
Dean stood up, "Why?" He started pacing the length of the living room. "I wonder how eager you would be to sleep if…" His voice trailed off.
Sam's tone softened, "Please, just tell me."
Dean stopped pacing and turned to Sam. Looking anywhere but directly at his brother, he whispered, "What if I remember more?"
For the first time in days, Dean's stoic mask slipped, revealing how frightened he really was. Sam knew, if it wasn't for his exhaustion, Dean would never have allowed his brother to see his fear. Once again, Sam didn't have the words to make his brother feel better. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a damn thing to say.
"Don't worry Sammy, I didn't expect you to have all the answers," Dean's disappointment was clear.
"I wish I knew what to say-" Sam began.
Dean smiled wanly, "Well, you know what they say about wishes. Wish in one hand and crap in the other, see which one fills faster."
Making it clear that this discussion was over, Dean returned to the couch and resumed reading from the book he had earlier. With a heavy heart, Sam went back to bed.
SPNSPNSPN
"Find anything yet, Bobby."
Bobby, glanced up as Sam walked into the living room. He hadn't seen Sam since he went into hiding with his laptop after breakfast. "Not yet. There are references to all kinds of creatures bringin' back people, hell, even people bringin' back people. But nothing about bringin' back souls banished to…hell." Bobby's eyes flicked in Dean's direction.
Dean spoke up from the table where he was sitting, "We know crossroad demons can resurrect people, even ones in hell. That bitch demon in Mississippi told me herself she could bring Dad back, but only if I made a deal."
"So, you think it could have been a crossroad demon?" Sam placed the laptop on the coffee table and sat on the couch.
Dean ran his hand through his hair. "If it was, who made the deal?"
Bobby paused a moment, then spoke cautiously. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe it wasn't something up here, but instead something that was in hell with you."
Sam's eyebrows furrowed, "Could a demon do that, resurrect someone from down there while they themselves are trapped in hell?"
"Whose to say what all demons can or cannot do." Bobby gestured to the piles and piles of books. "For every book you see here, there are thousands more out there. We could simply be missing the one book that could explain all this."
Dean stood to replace a book on one of the stacks. "That's not a very comforting thought." He then ran his fingers lightly over the other books, scanning their titles.
Sam sighed dejectedly, "Even if that was possible, it doesn't explain why."
Dean grinned at his brother, "That's easy. Lucifer himself realized I was too darn handsome, and it was distracting the demons from wrecking havoc on the world. He had no other choice than to get rid of me."
Sam smiled weakly, while Bobby said, "Damn, I'm surprised you can fit in the living room with that large ego of your's."
Sam and Bobby laughed out loud at the affronted look that passed across Dean's face. "It's obvious you two are just jealous."
Dean had turned back to the stack of books to pick up one that he hadn't read yet, when he felt the room shift around him. That can't be good. He pushed the heals of his hands into his eyes, hoping to suppress the sudden vertigo.
He thought he heard Sam call out his name. As his vision darkened, he tried to answer his brother. He felt hands grab him, then he knew nothing more.
SPNSPNSPN
Sam saw Dean sway a bit as he reached for another book. Dean righted himself, then rubbed his eyes with the heals of his hands.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam took a step in his brother's direction. Bobby was watching Dean worriedly.
"Sam-" Bobby called out in warning when Dean wavered.
Sam was there in a second, grabbing his brother under his arms just as his eyes rolled up in his head. As Sam lowered him gently to the floor, his head resting in Sam's lap, Bobby checked Dean's pulse. "It's a little fast, but he's okay."
Eyes wide, Sam asked, "What the hell happened?"
"He needed sleep, you can only deprive yourself of sleep for so long before your body just gives in." Bobby sat back and shifted his ball cap. "Let's get him to the couch so he can rest more comfortably."
It was a good twelve hours before Sam or Bobby saw any signs of life from Dean. His eyelids fluttered, then finally opened. He looked around in bewilderment, "Why am I sleeping on the couch?"
Sam glared at him, "Because you're an idiot."
"I think what your brother is trying to say is, your exhaustion caught up with you. You passed out," Bobby explained.
Dean ran a hand over his face, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away his fatigue, "Huh."
Sam jumped to his feet, anger clear in his eyes. "Huh. That's all you have to say? When you went down…You know what? This is it. From now on you are going to sleep every night, even if I have to drug you. You scared the crap out of me, Dean!"
Dean silently watched his brother until Sam stopped for air. "You done?"
Sam's face turned red in anger, then Bobby stepped in, "Dean, now's not the time."
Dean's face flushed with guilt as he sat up, "I'm sorry, Sam. I never meant to scare you. But you know why I can't…"
"You were out for twelve hours, what did you dream about?" Sam asked softly.
"Uh…I don't remember." Dean replied, surprise evident in his voice.
"Sleeping doesn't necessarily mean your going to relive or recall your memories every night. And even if you do, you know I'm here, Bobby's here, and we'll help you. Just don't run yourself down, we need you to help figure this all out." Bobby listened to Sam's speech and watched him finish it off with the patented puppy dog eyes that always ensure Dean's cooperation.
Knowing the matter was settled, and that Dean would be sleeping from now on, Bobby stood from his seat. "Boys, this Hallmark moment is touching and all, but I'm starving. Who wants something to eat?" Since both brothers were undoubtedly hungry, he went to the kitchen without needing to hear their answers.