Disclaimer: See chapter 1. They're not mine. I know it's a shock but it's true. Just wish they were mine.
Author's notes: Thanks out to lynxlan for the beta yesterday. It's been changed a bit since getting it back so any mistakes you find they are all me. Oh and there's some swearing.
Renovations
By infinite shadow
Day 2 - Left Behind
Dean lay there for a few minutes after his brother had left the room. Once he'd considered last night's events he realized that he wasn't all that mad at his little brother for the way he got him out of the car. He knew that no matter how careful they'd been it would have hurt him anyway and at least this way he got out on his own.
However his little brother didn't need to know that he wasn't mad and it would be fun to yank his chain for the better part of the day. He grinned as he thought about making Sam do everything he wanted.
"Dean breakfast!" John hollered again.
The grin fell away as he pulled off the blankets and twisted so his feet touched the floor. He immediately slouched slightly and hissed as his ribs protested the movement.
As the pain eased back to a bearable level he brought his head up and looked at his new room. He lifted an eye brow at the condition of the filthy walls, peeling paint, dirty floor and threadbare curtains for a moment then shrugged. Really it was nothing new and while not as nice as some of the run down motels they usually stayed in they'd been in far worse.
Giving himself a minute for the pain to abate he forced himself to grab a crutch and stood up. Using his crutch he shuffled towards his duffle that Sam had dropped by the foot of his bed.
By the time he'd struggled into some clean-ish clothes and made his way out of his room he was sweaty and exhausted.
He knew he was pretty strong and generally healthy but with the cracked ribs walking with crutches was akin to torture. After five or six steps he was panting with exertion. Leaning up against a wall he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment before continuing on. When he'd gotten his breath back he settled himself properly on his crutches and walked into the living room where his mouth hung open for a moment.
The couch had been flipped over onto its back, the material slashed in several places, there were holes in the walls, wallpaper was ripped and hung off the walls and pieces were strewn around the room, the window was broken and broken glass lay nearby on the floor and garbage had been piled up in the corner.
Dean closed his mouth, swallowed heavily at the mess in front of him and hoped that they weren't staying long - like leaving in the next hour. He schooled his feelings of disgust and surprise before he turned and looked into the bathroom.
Quickly he turned away from what had to be the worst bathroom he'd ever seen in his lifetime. At the age of seventeen he'd been in numerous shady pool halls or bars and their bathrooms had been cleaner than this. The tiles were cracked and broken with some missing all together, the tub which had been white at some point was now dirty, caked with dirt and mould, the shower curtain was missing as was the mirror and he didn't want to know what the toilet looked like.
Swallowing back the bile of what that room looked like he turned and saw Sammy's room and swore out loud. There was no bed, no light fixtures just holes in the walls and torn blankets to sleep on. There wasn't even a window to ventilate the room properly.
"Damnit. He's not sleeping in there again," Dean swore as he turned and headed for the kitchen not caring what his father was sleeping in. He'd already seen enough. They were not staying here for another night. Period. He was not gonna take no for an answer.
"Morning," John said as he looked up from his notes. "Sit. I'll get you some coffee."
"S'ok. I got it," Dean said as he leaned up against the counter and balanced himself. As he grabbed the coffee pot and began to pour he turned his attention back to his father. He decided to find out was wrong with his little brother then inquire about the house. "What's up with Sammy?"
"What do you mean?" John asked. He had hoped to get through a full cup of coffee before starting this conversation.
"I don't know. Just seemed kinda off this morning is all," Dean said as he replaced the coffee pot back on the element.
"Dean sit down," John said then quickly took a sip of coffee to fortify himself for the argument that was about to begin. But felt slightly relieved that Sam had done as he'd asked and not told his older brother.
"Uh no offence Dad but I'm actually kinda balanced and," Dean started
John sighed softly and ran a hand over his face. "Dean."
"Right," the seventeen year old said recognizing the tone. His father looked haggard and exhausted. Dean knew he'd probably not really slept but kept one eye open over him, Sammy and this wreck of a house. And now he wanted to talk, probably about his pissy attitude of late with Sammy. His little brother had been taking the brunt of his attitude since he'd woken up drugged and disoriented in the hospital.
Leaving his crutches leaning up against the counter he took a small hop towards the table that was about two normal steps away. Pain exploded in his chest and he hunched over as he wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach.
A pain filled gasp from his son brought John's attention away from his coffee cup. He was up and next to his son before he could even think twice.
Dean tried not to let out a stream of swear words. Not that his father would care but it would look like he was losing control. He almost didn't feel the hands that were keeping him upright but he did hear his father talking softly to him. "I'm ok," he whispered as he tried to straighten up but the pain got worse as he moved.
"Easy Dean," John said as he slowly helped his son sit in a chair.
Dean grimaced as he sat down. The gentle motion jarred his ribs and despite his best efforts a slight whimper escaped.
John knelt next to his son's chair putting one hand on his thigh and the other gently on the back of his neck. "Ok son. You know the drill. Shallow smooth breaths," he said in a soft commanding tone that he knew his boy would hear.
Dean nodded grateful that his father was right next to him. It gave him a ground against the pain as he closed his eyes and followed the order. After a few minutes he could pull in a deeper breath without his chest screaming back at him.
"This … Totally … Blows," he said when a little of the pain had subsided.
"Yeah I know," John said softly as he rubbed his thumb across the back of Dean's neck helping to calm him. Just like he'd done countless times when his oldest had been healing from some injury and the pain had gotten too bad.
Dean opened his eyes and looked at his father. "I … Hate … This," he panted his complaint.
"I know," John repeated softly.
When John was satisfied that his son could sit straight without struggling for breath he stood up and retrieved a fresh cup of coffee for his son. He placed the cup in front of Dean, next to the forgotten cold toast John had made for breakfast, firmly set the bottle of pills next to it then went back to his seat.
Dean nodded his thanks, ignored the pills and took a sip of is coffee pulling a face of disgust. "Have you tasted this?"
"Sammy made it and you will drink it if you want coffee," John said.
Dean placed the mug down on the table and waited for whatever his father wanted to talk to him about. When five minutes had elapsed and his father had said nothing but studied notes in his journal, Dean couldn't take it anymore. "Why are we here? I mean no offence Dad but have you looked at this place?"
"I've seen it. Set wards up. It's safe Dean," John said not looking up from his book.
Dean nodded. "Ok. Great. It's safe. I'll sleep better at night instead of patrolling the properly for our usual visitors."
John looked up at the slight sarcasm in his oldest son's voice. "Got something to say boy you'd best be saying it."
Dean squirmed slightly in his seat at his fathers tone before leaning forward slightly. "We've stayed in some messed up places before and they were safe too. I know that. But this? Give me a few hours with a pool cue and we can stay in a motel."
"The place needs some work," John said.
"Well that just might be the understatement of the day," Dean shot back.
"Dean when you looked at the house this morning," John started knowing Dean would have checked out the security on the new place as was his habit no matter where they were staying – broken down house, motel or Pastor Jim's. "Notice anything?"
Dean shrugged and pushed back the wave of pain that came from his chest. "Sheets of drywall, wood, paint, drywall tape, drywall mud," he started to list off and then paused.
John gave him a weak smile. "Figured you boys could learn about renovating a house. Give you a taste for something a little different," he said.
Dean snorted. "Yeah right. Seriously Dad what are we doing here?"
"Haven't told him yet?" Sam snarked at his father as he walked into the kitchen. "Were you gonna leave him a note or something and let him figure it out on his own?"
John shot a murderous glance at his youngest son. "Don't push me boy or you will suffer the consequences."
"What the hell is going on Dad?" Dean asked pulling his father's attention back to him.
Sam pulled the chair out next to his brother and sat down. He knew his father's threat was empty. There's no way he'd make him do laps with his ribs. Then again it didn't mean he wouldn't make him clean the arsenal or detail the Impala.
"Renovations on the house," John said.
"Just not right away," Sam said his defiant tone gone as he rested his forearms on the table and slouched in his seat.
Dean looked at his brother for a second before looking back at his father. "You're leaving us and going somewhere?" he asked.
"Actually Sam and I are going," John said softly.
"No. No way. You are not leaving me here," Dean said firmly but careful to keep his tone even.
John sighed. "Sam and I have a job to do then we'll be back. By then you'll be healed enough to help with the work on the house."
"Dad wants to test me," Sam said softly.
Dean looked over at his brother again who was looking completely crest fallen next to him. "W-what?" Dean asked his eyes wide.
"That's right. It's an easy job," John started.
"Dad he's hurt," Dean shot back. "And there are no such things as easy jobs. Remember?"
"Enough," John said wearily. "We're going. You're staying,"
Dean felt fiery rage build inside him. How dare his father try and take Sammy from him. He was Sam's protector. He looked out for him. He drove him to school, had his back on hunts and beat the living hell out of anything that dared to touch him. His cheeks flushed, his head lowered slightly as he slammed his hands on the table and slowly got to his good foot. "No," he said quietly, dangerously, almost like an animal giving a low growl in warning of attack.
Sam looked up at his brother with wide eyes at the rare show of defiance towards their father.
"Excuse me?" John said.
"He's thirteen years old! He's got bruised ribs and a slight concussion. His wrist is sprained! He's got cuts that have barely covered over. He is not going into a fight without me to watch his back!" Dean shouted.
Sam flinched slightly and hoped that Dean really did have a concussion to blame the outburst on.
"At some point he has to stand on his own Dean! He has to learn to look after himself. He's got to learn to watch our backs just as well as you watch his," John shouted back.
Sam frowned. "I watch his back," he mumbled.
"No he doesn't. As far back as I can remember it's been my job to look after him," Dean shot back.
"Your job?" John scoffed.
"Watch Sammy. Protect Sammy. Look after Sammy. Your words Dad! Yours. And now you want me to stop just like that? Well I'm sorry sir but it doesn't work that way. If he's going then I'm going. Period. End of story," Dean ground out.
"I don't need to be babysat!" Sam said loudly.
"I don't want you to stop looking out for him Dean I just want him to be able to look after himself! And for you!" John yelled.
"He does!" Dean shot back emphatically.
John slammed the table with his fist as he stood up. "The hell he does!"
"Hey!" Sam tried to shout over the argument.
"Of course he does or I wouldn't be standing here! I'm the oldest. The responsibility is mine not his!" Dean yelled ignoring his brother who he was doing his best to defend. "You taught me that!"
"He doesn't know what's around him on a hunt. His guard is never up enough!" John shot back ignoring Sam's outbursts.
"He is right here!" Sam yelled as he jumped to his feet.
"He doesn't have to. That's what I'm for!" Dean yelled.
"No you don't! I can look after myself!" Sam tried to yell over his brother's voice.
"Damnit Dean he needs to be just like you!" John shouted.
"No," Dean said shaking his head slightly. "No he doesn't. He never has to be me. I do all the extra stuff so he'll never have to!"
"He needs to be better, stronger, faster," John yelled.
"I am fast!" Sam yelled back and hit the table wanting desperately to be heard in the argument.
"How? By being my clone?" Dean said incredulously.
"If need be yes!" John roared his chest heaving and immediately wished he could take back the words.
Sam's jaw dropped open at his father's words and felt his stomach fall away. Bile rose in the back of his throat as it dawned on him that he would never be as good at his brother. He'd never be what his father wanted or needed.
Dean sucked in a breath at his father's admission. Sammy wasn't supposed to be like him. Sammy was supposed to be protected and watched over. That said Dean knew without a doubt that his little brother could hold his own well enough in almost any fight.
Sam visibly paled and he stared down at the table in the crackling silence. "I-I'll never be him," he said softly before turning and walking away.
"Sam," Dean said turning to watch his brother walk away from him. "Sammy."
John took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.
"Great. Just great," Dean mumbled all the anger and energy sucked out of him. He turned, used the back of the chair for balance as he reached out for his crutches.
"Dean I'll go. Try and explain," John said as he shook his head. It's not what he meant he just needed to know Sam would be safe in a hunt without his brother. Sam didn't need to be Dean he just needed to be as vigilant and as sharp as Dean was.
"No. No way. He'll just yell at you. Let me talk to him," Dean said softly as he settled himself on his crutches then looked up to his Dad. "He's different from us but it's not a bad thing. And just for the record, sir, Sam can hold his own but I shouldn't have to tell you that. You've seen it for yourself many times. I guess he'll have to prove himself to you again. He just shouldn't have to."
John sighed as he sat back down and drank down his coffee wishing that he'd put some whiskey in it that morning.
Dean got as far as the living room and was surprised at the sight in front of him. Somehow Sam had righted the couch on his own and was sitting on it with his elbows rested on his thighs and his head rested in his hands.
Dean sighed as he took in his little brother's defeated posture and hated that just a few wrong spoken words from their father could shatter Sam so badly. He slowly made his way to the couch and lowered himself to sit next to his little brother. "He didn't mean it Sammy," he said softly.
"Of course he meant it," Sam said as he pulled his head up and leaned against the back of the couch. "He's right you know."
"About what?" Dean asked s he moved to mirror Sam's position and as their shoulder's touched slightly he could feel the tremors running though his brother's body.
"I'm weaker than you. I don't pay attention while hunting because I know you'll be there to pay attention for me," he said.
Dean knew the statement was true but he had to get Sam to stop thinking this way. "Pity much?"
Sam looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Sam before you even start moping around and getting teary eyed Dad doesn't want another me," Dean said. "Look you're smart, almost too smart. You're quick and a damn near perfect shot. Sure you could be physically stronger but you more than make up for that in other ways."
"Yeah, right," Sam said looking away.
"Who spouts off Latin faster and more accurately than I do?" Dean asked.
Sam was quiet for a second before answering. "I do."
"Uh huh. And as much as it pains me to say it, who can pick a lock faster?" Dean asked.
"I do," Sam said softly. "But you're almost as fast."
"Who researches without falling asleep and possibly even enjoys it?" Dean asked as he nudged Sam gently with his shoulder.
Sam blushed slightly. "I guess I do."
Dean smiled slightly pride evident in his face. "That's right. You do all those things Geek Boy. If you weren't my younger brother I'd have to kick your ass for being so smart."
"Do you really think I can do this? I mean on my own?" Sam asked softly.
"Sammy who trained you?" Dean asked.
Sam blinked at him for a second. "You and Dad."
Dean nodded. "Trained by two of the best."
"So you think I can do this?" Sam asked very softly.
"Yeah I do. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you believe in yourself and you can do it," Dean said. "But let me say this. If you screw this hunt up I'll kill you. Understand?"
Sam stared at his brother for a moment then smiled. "Yeah. Thanks Dean," he said softly.
"Oh little brother don't thank me," Dean said almost menacingly.
Sam frowned at the sudden change in his brother's tone.
"Get me some breakfast," he demanded.
Sam's face fell. "Get your own," he said.
"Yeah you're right. I probably should," Dean sighed as he looked from his brother to his cast, then to his crutches. "Maybe I'll just skip breakfast."
"You never skip meals," Sam said as his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah it's just," Dean started then paused. "Never mind. Help me up?"
A blush crept onto Sam's face. "Shut up," Sam said as he got up and headed to the kitchen.
"Fresh warm toast Sammy with lots of peanut butter and jam," Dean hollered after him. He smirked as his brother fingered him without turning around. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. A grin slowly spread over his face as he imagined Sammy waiting on him hand and foot before he left.
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Dean hobbled into the living room on his crutches and settled on the couch grimacing as he went down. He'd just endured his father's ministrations with his wounds and had been re-bandaged, ordered to rest.
Sam brought over a crate with a towel on it and waited for Dean to put up his leg. "Dad said you needed this," he said softly as he handed his older brother an ice pack.
John came down the hall and into the living room. "Dean you need anything call Bobby. He's two hours away and has volunteered to come if anything goes wrong."
"Dad where are you going?" Dean asked frustrated that his father and Sam had ignored that question all morning.
"Need to know buddy and I don't think you need to know," John said.
"That's a little over dramatic isn't it?" Sam asked.
"Nope," John said as he looked at his youngest son. "Your brother will be hotwiring a car to try and join us if we tell him."
"Hey I need to know," Dean protested.
"No," John said as he picked up his duffle near the front door and slung it over his shoulder.
"Dad how will I know if something goes wrong? How will I be able to help?" Dean pressed.
"Dean," John said as he sighed. "I have to check in with Jim every night. If we go more than 24 hours without checking in Jim will be sending reinforcements."
"A lot can happen in twenty four hours," Dean said. "Let me come. I'll stay in the motel."
"Dean you're not coming," John said.
"You just can't expect me to sit here while you and Sammy are in danger," Dean said incredulously.
"Yes I can and you will. That is non-negotiable," John said sharply then softened it. "Dean you're getting down time. Just take it like a man and be ready to work when we get back."
Dean huffed and put the ice pack on his chest.
"Take care of yourself. Watch that cut on your arm, put the ointment on it ever four hours and re-bandage it. Take the pain meds," John instructed then paused taking a good look at his sone who was staring down at his cast. "Hey!"
"What?" Dean shot back scowling deeply and glaring at his father.
John smiled back at him. "Stop bitching so much."
"Hey I have valid concerns," Dean complained.
"Which I have just answered and invalidated," John shot back. "Look after yourself and we'll be back in three days tops."
Dean glared at his Dad as he left the house.
Sam looked at his brother. "Dean I tried to talk him out of it. I wanted to stay with you."
"Don't worry about me," Dean said.
Sam frowned at him.
"I'll be fine," Dean said heartened by his brother wanting to stay. "Hurry up so you don't piss off Dad."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Take care of yourself," he said softly with his hand on the door knob.
"Take care of yourself princess. I'm just gonna hang around, sleep, relax and heal. Fantasize about the playmate of the month," Dean said grinning widely.
Sam shook his head, tossed a bag at his brother and started out the door just as the Impala honked.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled.
Sam poked his head back in. "Yeah?"
"You need anything you call me. Not Pastor Jim. Not Bobby. Me. Understood?" Dean said firmly.
"Yeah I will," he said softly.
"That's my boy. Now go bag yourself an ornery spirit and I want to hear all about it when you get back," Dean said as he smiled at his little brother.
"Dean," Sam said as he looked at the floor. "I don't know."
"You can do this man. Piece of cake. Just keep your guard up. You'll be fine," Dean assured him. "Hey I've been watching your back since you've started hunting and you do just fine most of the time without me. The only difference is you just need to be aware with what's around you. Sides where's all that bravado you had going into the last job?"
Sam shifted slightly near the door. He knew he was a good hunter with Dean backing him up. He just hadn't done it without him before.
At Sam's hesitation Dean sighed softly. "You can do this little man. And you will make Dad and I proud. You just gotta to believe in yourself. Look, if you need to you can call just before you go. But you had better call when it's over," he said a little more sternly than he had intended and softened it with the biggest smile he could plaster over his face.
Sam nodded. "Yeah OK Dean. I'll call," he said softly, grabbed his duffle and left.
Dean smiled his fake grin at the door until he couldn't hear the purr of the Impala anymore. The smile faded as Dean glanced around in the silence and deflated a little. He was alone. He hated being alone. Worse than that he was alone in overwhelming silence in the middle of nowhere.
Trying to shake off the melancholy feelings he took the bag his brother tossed at him and opened it. His face lit up in surprise as he pulled out a car magazine with an Impala that looked exactly like their father's car on the front. He blinked a couple of times as he looked at how shiny and perfect the picture looked. Sammy knew how much he loved their car, how much time he spent washing her, waxing her, fixing her and tuning her engine with their father.
"Thanks Sammy," he said softly and looked out the broken window wishing he had left with them.