It's a testament to how tired and drunk Dean is that he doesn't even stir in his sleep as Sam is redoing his stitches. Which is good, in Sam's book, because he doesn't think he can handle his brother in pain anymore for the day.
When he finishes the rest of the stitches, his head is spinning and before he knows it he's running to the bathroom and empting his stomach.
His father is dead.
He doesn't even know how. Pastor Jim didn't have the time to tell him and Dean didn't have the emotional stability to tell him.
His father is dead and he knows nothing and he's not sure he wants to know, because he's already thinking in the million ways he could have stopped this.
"YOUR BROTHER AND I NEED YOU TO WATCH OUR BACKS".
It's like thunder in his ears, like the old man is sitting right next to him and he jumps.
He wasn't there to watch their backs and now his father is dead.
And, yes, Dean is alive. But for how long?
He can't cry. He can't. If he starts crying, he'll never stop. He'll drown on the tears and die and he can't die, not now, because somebody needs to keep Dean alive.
Focus, Sam.
He washes his mouth and goes back to the bedroom. Dean is still sleeping with his head against the headboard. He's shirtless and the wounds are now exposed. Sam goes back to his side and starts making new bandages. He gives up on trying to change Dean's clothes, it will be too much of a hassle by now and he can't bare the thought of waking his brother.
He gently scoops Dean's head to the pillow, then goes around to take off his boots. Dean mumbles something in his sleep and Sam's memory jumps to one of the million nights when they were kids when Sam had to throw a wayward pillow towards his big brother to make him stop talking in his sleep. "Dude, do you ever shut up?"
Dean still smells like booze and Sam shouldn't let him sleep on Jess's sheets like that. But he doesn't care. He can buy new sheets.
Dean is fast asleep now and Sam closes his eyes with a sigh only to have another memory assault him. Dean is 15, he hit his head and got a concussion and managed to stay unconscious for three whole days. Sam and his father stood vigil on his hospital bed for three whole days, watching him sleep.
His father is dead.
His father is dead and he wasn't there to stand vigil.
Another deep breath and Sam has to fight the urge to just crawl next to Dean and fall asleep by his side, like when they were kids and Sam had a nightmare. Sam always thought his brother could protect him from anything when he was a child and Dean's sleeping form just exudes 'safety' and 'comfort'.
But Sam is not a child anymore and it's his turn to protect Dean.
He has to make sure the Impala is safe and the trunk is locked. He fishes the keys from Dean's jacket and drags himself downstairs.
When he gets there, most of his study group is gone. He can't help but wish that they'd all be gone by now. Including Jess. Which is unfair, he's aware, but he just wants to be alone and to take care of his brother. His father is dead and now Stanford finally feels like the betrayal his dad always said it was.
But Jess is there and so is her best friend, Jenny. His heart tightens when he realizes Jenny probably didn't want to leave Jess alone in the house where the madman with the gun was having a breakdown less than an hour ago.
Brady is there too and Sam is not sure his reasons are the same as Jenny's or if he's actually concerned about Sam. Brady is a good friend and they all heard about his father.
His father is dead. Oh, god, his father is dead.
What did he do?
"Sam?", Jess asks and he snaps out of it.
He's at the base of the staircase and he takes a deep breath just to find his voice.
"I'm sorry you guys had to see that…", his voice is still barely more than a whisper. He glances at Jenny. "I'm sorry he scared you. He would never hurt any of you…"
"Is he your brother?", Brady asks and for a second, just a second, Sam sees the smallest glint of excitement in the question. But then it's gone. Great, now he's getting paranoid too.
"Yeah…", he answers.
"Sam…", it's Jess's turn. "Is it true…about your dad?", her voice is gentle and soothing and Sam doesn't deserve her.
"Yeah…", again and he feels a muscle in his jaw jump.
Jess crosses the room and hugs him. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. He doesn't deserve her.
His father is dead. And Sam wasn't there to watch his back. He doesn't deserve Jess.
He lets go of her and goes straight to the liquor cabinet. He fishes the unopened bottle of whisky he got from Brady last Christmas, a glass and fills it. He downs it straight up with his back to his friends. The alcohol burns his throat and he tells himself that's why his eyes are watering. He fills another glass, tries to drink it more slowly this time but the smell hits him like a punch.
The whisky smells like his father and Dean and hunting. The whisky smells like the only life he ever knew, the life he hated but the only one where he ever could be himself. No lies, no secrets. Just whisky and gun powder and leather and the Impala.
The Impala.
"I'm going to get my brother's stuff out of his car", and he's out.
The car is parked a few blocks away. "You don't ever park right in front of where you're going, even it feels like everything is okay", his father's gruff voice is loud in his mind again.
His father is dead.
He takes deep breaths all the way down the street, trying to prepare himself and he actually manages to open the door without shaking.
He was right to come by. Dean's shotgun is in the back seat and anyone passing in the street could see it. There's an empty bottle of whisky in the front seat and it should bother him that Dean was drinking while driving but his brother has driven concussed and bleeding at the age of 11, so he knows it's pointless.
Sam checks that the street is indeed empty and reaches for the gun. He takes it to the trunk and puts it back on its spot, right next to where Sam's shotgun still is, waiting. He closes the trunk fast, he can't go there.
Guns, his father was killed. Was his father killed by a gun? Was it a spirit? A werewolf?
Was it the same thing that attacked Dean?
Was it the same thing that killed his mom?
Would his father still be alive if Sam hadn't left?
Focus, Sam.
He turns around and habit makes him open the passenger door. He can't go there. That's his place. He can't go there.
Sure, when he was a kid, he rode the back seat, with his dad and then Dean on the front. But Dean got the car on his eighteenth birthday and his father got the truck a few months after that. Sam was 14 and since then he always rode with Dean. Always, unless his brother was unconscious from wounds or alcohol, on the passenger seat.
He can't go there.
He turns around, opens the driver's seat and gets the empty bottle. He goes back out, finds a trash can and dumps it. Then he goes back in the car, enters, closes the door.
He has a parking space, but neither him nor Jess have a car, so he should take the Impala there.
He turns the keys and the roar of the engine starts at the same time as the Led Zeppelin album.
It's Dean's car and Dean's music, but it's his father's car and his father's music.
His father is dead.
Sam shuts his eyes tight. He can't cry. He can't cry, he can't cry and he refuses to accept that he's already crying.
His foot hits the pedal and the car is moving. Dean will be sleeping for at least a couple more hours. Sam heads out.
He's panting, he's crying and it hurts so, so bad but when he hits the road if he looks straight ahead and doesn't check the mirrors he can almost feel like he's back, like Dean's just asleep after a night out in the bar on the backseat and like his father's truck is following them.
He's on the Impala, Led Zeppelin is on the speakers and he's home.
Focus.