They arrived at the motel a few minutes later. The parking lot was filled with cars and people, people who were crying and clinging to other's in desperation. Sam's heart twinged with sympathy. He knew what it felt like to lose a home to fire, lose the memories you'd collected over the years. He couldn't remember the first time, but he sure as hell remembered the second time. The pain and the loss… They were still a part of him and probably would be forever.
Shaking his head to keep his mind on the situation at hand, he turned to Dean who was looking at all the people around them. He could see his brother's eyes going from one person to the other, trying to spot a familiar face. Finally, he said, "She's not outside."
"Then let's go in," Sam stated and opened his door.
Once outside the car, the emotions of all the people around him seemed to penetrate into his skin. It choked him until he couldn't breathe. He felt the beginnings of tears starting at the corners of his eyes and willed them back. He wouldn't cry. He would be strong. For everyone's sake, he had to be strong. They were getting ready to fight a demon; he didn't have the luxury to break down and cry like he wanted to.
"Sammy," Dean said softly, laying a gentle hand on his back. "You okay?"
Sam took a deep breath and straightened. "Yeah, I'm alright. Let's go." Dean looked at him curiously, but nodded. Side by side, they walked to the entrance of the motel.
The small lobby was packed with people, too. Small children were clutching onto their parents who in turn were holding their kids as if they never wanted to let go of them. "There's so many of them," Sam whispered.
"I know," Dean whispered back. "It's like there's a war going on and we're just on the edge of the battlefield, tending to the wounded." He shook his head. "It's wrong."
"We can fix it, Dean."
Dean closed his eyes. "We will. We'll fix it. This demon is going to pay for what it's done."
When Dean opened his eyes again, he was met with a sight he hadn't expected. He took a step back, right into a young man standing behind him. He turned and opened his mouth to apologize until he recognized someone else, standing right behind the one whose foot he'd stepped on. Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish, not knowing what to say.
"It's okay," the guy told him. "The place is kind of cramped. I'll probably be limping for the next 30 minutes, but I'll be okay."
Dean swallowed hard and looked at the ground. "Sorry, man," he finally managed to say.
The blonde twenty-something guy chuckled. "Like I said, it's alright. Don't worry about." He looked down, too. "But if these had been my dress shoes, I would've hurt you." Dean let out a nervous laugh.
Sam watched his brother curiously. Dean had never once in his life acted this way. As if he was a deer caught in headlights as the car came barreling his way. Something had spooked Dean and Sam was betting it was Jaenelle. The mystery girl. He was getting really curious as to who this girl was and why Dean was so different when he thought about her.
Looking around him at the people in the room, Sam scanned every face trying to spot the girl Dean had described. He saw a few girls with long, dark brown hair, but none of them had blue eyes or an athletic figure. Frowning, he turned back to Dean and grabbed his shoulder. Dean jumped a few inches into the air.
"Relax," Sam whispered. "What's wrong?"
Haunted eyes travelled up to his. "Nothing," Dean said, "Nothing's wrong."
Completely freaked out now, Sam searched his brother's face. "Dean. What?"
Struggling to breathe, Dean broke away from Sam's hold and made his way to the door. He needed fresh air. Needed open space to be able to breathe. Pushing the door open, it almost collided with a woman trying to get in. She shouted at him, but he didn't hear. He just kept on walking, away from all the people. Away from him.
"Dean!"
He heard Sammy's yell behind him, but still he didn't stop. When he reached the edge of the parking lot and began walking on grass, he started to run. All he could think about was getting away, far away. He couldn't be near him, not yet, not now.
Someone tackled him from behind and he hit the ground hard. Stunned, he didn't move as his attacker climbed off him. He still didn't move when he was turned over onto his back. Sam's face hovered above his.
"What the hell, Dean? Why are you running?"
Dean closed his eyes. He was an idiot. Why had he done that? Why had he shown weakness? He was stronger than that, but instead he had run away from a confrontation he'd been having nightmares about for two years. The worst of all was that Sam had no idea. He had no idea how much Dean had suffered after their dad had made him leave Jaenelle in the hospital.
"Dean," Sam said through gritted teeth. "Talk to me."
Taking a deep breath, Dean sat up slowly. Sam sat down beside him. "Remember me telling you I'm never afraid of anything?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sam answered. "I never believed it."
"You were always the smart one," Dean smiled.
"Talk to me, Dean, or I'm going to kick your ass."
Dean looked up and stared at the motel in the distance. In his mind it quickly faded to the last time he saw Jaenelle in the hospital two years ago. "The day Jaenelle's father came to the hospital, I was sitting with her. He came in, rushed to Jaenelle and just collapsed on top of her. Damon was so afraid he'd lose his daughter. I could feel his pain." He expelled a shaky breath. "Then he noticed me. Man, Sammy, I've never seen anyone as angry as him back then. He didn't do anything, didn't say anything, but I knew he was furious with me."
"Why? You saved his daughter."
Dean smiled bitterly. "He didn't believe it. Damon thought I'd done something to her that had made her sick. That it was my fault she was in a coma. He didn't do anything to me, not physically, but everything he said to me… It hurt more than physical wounds ever could, Sammy. Damon accused me of not protecting her, hurting her while she trusted me." Dean pushed back the tears that were threatening to overflow. "Dad and I were there to help her, to save her. And all we managed to do was put her in the hospital."
The pieces of the puzzle fell together for Sam. "You started to believe Damon," he whispered just loud enough for Dean to hear. "You believed he was right, that you had hurt Jaenelle." He let out a soft disbelieving sound. "He accused you of hurting the girl you'd been trying to protect so hard for two months."
Dean nodded, his eyes cast down to the ground. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Damon chased me from the room with his words. He didn't move an inch, Sammy. Not a muscle, but he managed to get me out of that room. Dad was just coming back from the car and heard Damon yelling after me to stay away from his daughter. That's when he told me we were leaving." He closed his eyes and let out a sound that sounded like a sob. "I never got to say goodbye to her."
Sam didn't know what to say to that. He had been one of the best students in his classes, but he was at a loss for words now. His brother, his strong brother who was never afraid of anything, had just told him his worst nightmare. And now Sam knew why sometimes, while Dean was sleeping and he was still awake, Dean would moan in his sleep as if haunted by a nightmare. He'd always figured that it was the job that gave Dean the nightmares, but it hadn't been. It had been Damon who had convinced Dean that he was a bad person, that Dean had almost killed a young woman.
Sam wanted to hurt Damon because of what he had done to his brother. Wanted to give the man the same treatment as he had given Dean. He wanted revenge for his brother's hurt.
"Sammy," Dean said, shaking Sam from his thoughts. "I can't allow this to cloud my mind, not now, not during a case. I need to be clear-headed, but I can't think. All I want to do is hide."
Sam understood. Dean wanted to hide from the pain, from the memories, but at the same time he wanted to fix the situation in this town, get rid of the demon that was causing the destruction. He couldn't do that unless he blocked himself off from his memories, made them go away. And that's when Sam fully understood. Dean's attitude; it was all a front, a disguise to hide the true emotions buried deep within.
Sam glanced at his older brother, whom he had always regarded as the stronger one of the two. The truth was that they were both only human and had feelings and secrets. Sam had never told Dean about the dreams; the dreams that had shown him that Jess would die but he had just shrugged them off as nightmares. He had sort of faced his fear. When Bloody Mary had made him face his guilty feelings, he had known what would happen; had embraced the fact that he would be punished for it.
He glanced at Dean who seemed to be drawn inward, a very strange picture. Sam still had his own issues to deal with and he finally decided that he would talk to his brother about them, but not at that moment. Dean was the one who needed the help the most right now. He needed to face his fear, however twisted it may be.
Sam wanted to laugh. Of all the things Dean could fear, he wasn't afraid of anything they had faced. No, his brother was afraid of a man who had accused him of doing something he hadn't done.
"Why didn't you tell Damon that you were protecting her, helping her?" Sam asked.
Dean stretched his legs out in front of him, placing his hands on the ground next to him to keep himself upright. "I couldn't. I froze up. The fact that he would think I'd do anything to hurt her stunned me. I had talked to him on the phone several times and he seemed to really like me. Then when Jaenelle ended up in the hospital, he turned against me."
"He was afraid he was going to lose his daughter. It can drive anyone crazy," Sam said softly.
"I know, Sammy. I knew it then, too, but I," Dean paused, seeming to try to find the words. He sighed. "I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that I had done that to her. Because I couldn't stand it that she was hurt. I needed to blame someone and since we had already vanquished the demon, I couldn't blame anyone else but myself."
Sam glared at his brother. "What?"
"I'm to blame, Sammy. She got hurt because of me."
Sam's eyes grew big as he stared at Dean. "No! She didn't get hurt because of you! She got hurt because a demon possessed her!"
"But if she hadn't known me, she wouldn't have ended up in a coma."
Sam raised an eyebrow. This went deeper than he thought. "Where's my brother and what did you do to him? My brother would never say such a thing. Come on, Dean. It's not your fault that a demon decided to use her for its own evil purpose. You did your best to stop it. You gave her a protective necklace. And it worked, didn't it?"
Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but."
"No buts," Sam interrupted. "You did everything you could do to protect her and then when the demon possessed her, you and dad made sure that you got it out of her." Changing his tone of voice, he said gently, "She didn't die, Dean. She's alive."
Dean looked at Sam and wondered when the roles had reversed. He was usually the one trying to make Sam feel better about himself. Telling his little brother that they would find their dad, find the thing that killed Jess. Now Sam was doing his best to make him see that everything was going to be alright, was already alright. But he couldn't push away the fact that he felt that Damon had been right. He had put Jaenelle in danger, just by being her friend. He hunted the things that went bump in the night and he couldn't afford the luxury to have friends.
"Dean," Sam pushed gently, "It wasn't your fault."
"No, son," a voice spoke from behind them, startling them. When Dean jumped up and turned around, Damon Hamilton stood facing him.
"Damon," Dean gasped, his heart in his throat. He waited for the moment when Damon would start on him again. Waited for the hurtful words to leave the older man's mouth. He braced himself for them, but they never came.
"Dean," Damon said softly as he stepped toward him. "I'm sorry."
Dean blinked, not fully comprehending what was being said. It wasn't what he had expected. "What?"
Damon smiled bitterly. "I'm sorry for pushing you away from my daughter. I didn't want to believe something that only exists in horror stories hurt my daughter. I needed to blame someone who was real." He looked Dean straight in the eyes. "I am sorry, Dean. So very sorry. When Jaenelle woke up out of her coma, she told me everything. She told me how you had protected her, how you'd tried not to hurt her too much during the exorcism. She remembers everything, Dean."
Of anything that Damon could've said, that shocked Dean the most. "She remembers?" he asked, his face scrunched up in emotional pain. He could feel Sam moving closer to him, but not too close. A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, giving him strength.
"Everything," Damon nodded. "I'm not the person to tell you what she remembers, Dean. She is."
Dean's eyes shot up to his. "You don't want me to be near her," he said, strength returning to his voice. "You chased me away from her while I would've done anything to protect her." Anger seeped into him. Anger that he'd kept buried for two years because he couldn't do anything with it. He stepped away from Sam, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "For two years I didn't know what had happened to her, if she ever woke up out of the coma or that she died. Because of you, I lost the best friend I've ever had."
Damon looked down at his feet. "I truly am sorry, Dean. I'd already lost my wife and I didn't want to lose my daughter. She means the world to me."
"Yeah?" Dean snarled. "Well, guess what? She means a lot to me, too."
Sam tried to hide the incredulous look on his face, but failed. If it weren't for the fact that Dean was standing a few steps in front of him, his brother would've seen. Sam had never heard his brother say anything like that about anyone other than Sam or their father. He'd had a sinking suspicion that Jaenelle meant more to Dean than he'd let on, but that Dean admitted it was something else entirely. It was like seeing a different version of his brother after all these years.
Damon looked up again. "Don't you mean, 'meant a lot to you'?"
Dean clenched and unclenched his fists. "No. Because you might've sent me away, but I never stopped caring about her."
A look of acceptance came over Damon's face. "I believe you, Dean." The older man took a step closer to him and Dean had to resist the urge to take a step back. It was hard, but he managed. "I hope you can believe me when I say I'm sorry."
The look of pure honesty on Damon's face made Dean close his eyes. "You were just trying to protect your daughter," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't like that you sent me away, but I understand."
Damon raised a tentative hand and rested it on Dean's shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked into the blue eyes that reminded him so much of Jaenelle's. "If Jaenelle had been strong enough when she woke up, she would've ripped me a new one," Damon grinned. "She was so angry that I'd sent you away. Malachi and a nurse had to hold her down so that she wouldn't get out of bed and go after you."
Dean stared blankly at Damon, not believing him. The older man saw it and squeezed his shoulder. "Like I said Dean; you should hear from her what she felt, not from me. I can only imagine what you went through because of me. I accused you of some awful things because I was scared I was going to lose my daughter almost the same way I'd lost my wife. If I could take those words back, I would."
Dean took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. The question he'd wanted the answer to for two years slipped from his lips. "She doesn't blame me?"
Damon's sympathetic eyes seared him. "No, Dean, she doesn't blame you."
A small part of the burden Dean had carried around with him for two years disappeared. His shoulders felt a hell of a lot lighter now. He scrunched up his eyebrows and asked the second question he wanted answered, "Where is she?"
Damon smiled. "She's helping out around town."
Dean managed a smile back even though his insides were still doing a weird dance. Now that he was almost convinced that Jaenelle didn't blame him, he couldn't wait to see her again.
"Euh, Dean?" Sam spoke up. He waved a hand when Dean's attention turned to him. "Still here."
Dean flashed a grin at his brother. "Sorry, man." He turned to Damon. "Damon, this is Sam. Sam, meet Damon."
Damon reached out and shook Sam's hand. "Nice to meet you, son." The older man looked Sam up and down. "I don't know, for some reason I had always imagined you shorter and with a bit more fat on you."
Sam glared at Dean who was grinning again. "Dean," he said in a threatening voice.
Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, dude, that was two years ago. Ancient history." He shrugged in his usual cocky way. "Though I might've embellished a bit on your baby fat."
Sam's eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. "Baby fat? I lost the baby fat when I was twelve."
Damon sniggered. "Yes, you two are definitely brothers." He looked at them both. "Come on, let me take you to my home."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Home?" He glanced at Sam who was still glaring at him. "I thought your house was caught between two burning ones?"
Damon nodded. "It was." Upon seeing Dean's confused expression, he added, "I have a cabin near the woods. We're staying there until we can get back into the house. That is, if it doesn't burn down to the ground first."
"You're sounding very casual about it," Sam stated as they started walking.
The older man shrugged. "I don't much care for that house anymore. Haven't done in a lot of years. I know the kids don't want anything to happen to it, but it reminds me too much of my wife." Sharing a knowing look, Dean and Sam stayed silent. "I've mostly been in my cabin since the kids were old enough to take care of themselves."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean shook his head, almost unnoticable. "Do you still hunt?" Dean asked, switching the subject. Behind Damon's back Sam motioned as if to ask what he was doing. Dean shook his head again.
"Naw, no more hunting for me. Not now I know what you hunt," Damon looked from Sam to Dean. "Where's your dad, anyway?"
"He's, euh," Dean started.
"On a hunt," Sam finished when it appeared his usually quick thinking brother wasn't going to.
"Still going after the nasty critters, eh?" Damon chuckled. "You'd think the man had a deathwish or something, going after those things."
Dean made a face like only he could. "Yeah." After a short pause, he asked, "So, is this cabin of yours accessible by foot?"
Damon chuckled again. "My truck's parked right there," he said and pointed towards an old, rusted looking green truck. "You boys can follow me. Just wait for me by the intersection." He waved at them over his shoulder as he continued his way to his truck and the brothers stopped walking.
"Euh, Dean?" Sam said.
"Yeah, he's always been this crazy," Dean answered his brother's unasked question.
They started towards the car. Before they reached it, a hand clasped onto Dean's shoulder from behind him. Placing his own hand on the strange one, he braced himself to flip whoever it was over his shoulder. Before he could do so, a chuckle came from behind him.
"Easy, tiger."
Dean let go of the hand and turned around. The second familiar face of the day stood in front of him. "Mal," he grinned.
"Dean," the young man grinned back. "I almost didn't recognize you without my dad yelling at you."
Dean snorted. "Thanks for that memory, man." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I never did thank you for the back-up that day. You really gave it to your dad, telling him I hadn't done anything."
Mal looked sheepish for a second, then switched to a mischievous grin. "Ah, come on Dean. I was having fun seeing you shrink away from a powerless recluse."
Dean shook his head and looked up at Sam. "Mal, this is Sam, my brother. Sam, Mal. Damon's son."
"Hi," Sam smiled as he extended his hand and grabbed Malachi's.
"Nice to meet you," Malachi smiled. "I thought you were at college or something?"
"I was," he answered. "I decided to take a little time off."
Malachi's eyebrows rose up on his forehead. "Freaky stuff happened that made you quit school, huh?" he asked.
Sam visibly blanched. "What? How?" He looked questioningly at Dean who shrugged at him.
"Having been treated as if I was a leper at school all my life, you tend to be more of an observer than a participator. I see things." His eyes strayed over to his dad's truck that was idling at the end of the street. "Can I ride with you guys?"
Exchanging glances, Dean and Sam shrugged. "Euh, sure," Dean said.
"Why don't you want to ride with your dad?" Sam asked.
Malachi looked up at him and shrugged. "Family issue. Don't want to get into it." They walked over to the car, which was as shiny and black as ever. Malachi whistled. "Damn, Dean. I wish I could get me a car like this."
Dean grinned and caressed the hood of the car. "Yeah, you wish."
Sam rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat while Malachi climbed into the backseat. Dean settled himself behind the wheel. He watched as Damon drove away without waiting for them. "Oh, that's nice."
Malachi bent forward so he was in between the two front seats. "You don't need him. I'm here, aren't I?"
Dean made a noise that sounded like some sort of a chuckle-snort. "Oh, that's comforting."
"I could always get out and have you find the cabin on your own, you know," Malachi said and lifted his hand to the doorknob.
"Don't you dare," Dean threatened as he looked over his shoulder at Malachi.
Malachi grinned and folded his hands beneath his head. "So, meet any cute girls lately?"