Measure of a Man (continued)
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
A/N: It's been a hellish two weeks for yours truly, and I'm very sorry it resulted in such a delay in posting. But here it is, and super-sized no less—28 pages! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, and extra squiffy thanks to Katiki for all her help and her endless patience. Here we go!
Chapter Four: From Whirlybirds to Whirlwinds
Moments before…
Sam walks to the front of the house and watches the helicopter fly out of sight. He hopes that his idea won't end up killing his brother. Bobby and Meesh wanted to test his fear, and Sam knew that two things scared Dean more than anything else: flying, and someone he cares about getting hurt. Combining the two would be the ultimate test. Sam just hopes it isn't TOO real. His fears manifest as wild What If scenarios:
What if Dean has a heart attack? What if Dean grows and they fall to their deaths? What if Meesh gave herself too much of that drug and she goes into a coma? What if THAT is what makes Dean grow, and he gets stuck while he's trying to help, smooshes Meesh and Bobby, survives the resulting crash, and then runs away out of guilt, and I never see him again? What if he gets suicidal? What if—
"I didn't know Bobby was a pilot," says someone behind him. Sam whirls around and finds Ruby on the porch.
"Ruby? What are you doing here?"
"Just wanted to see what you ditched me for this time." She takes a sip from Dean's opened beer bottle. "So what's with the air show?"
"We're running tests on Dean to try and figure out what triggers his growth spurts. Then we're gonna work out ways he can fight it."
Ruby scoffs. "Seriously? You're spending the day teaching Dean new tricks? That's a complete waste of time, Sam." She smirks and adds, "Dean already knows how to roll over and play dead."
Sam gives her the bitch face. "You done?"
"No." She folds her arms. "Can I be frank with you?"
"Are you ever anything BUT?"
"This is STUPID, Sam. While you're sitting here dog-sitting your brother, seals are breaking. Two more since last night. TWO."
"Where?"
"It doesn't matter where—what's important is that you WEREN'T there to stop them!"
"I'm almost never there to stop them," Sam points out. "Neither is Dean. We only get a chance to stop them when the angels tell us where they are."
"That's cos the angels are losing, Sam. Lilith is winning. And if we ever want to stop her, we have to find her. And the only way to find her—"
"Yeah, yeah, I KNOW: to get demon intel. But c'mon, the last few demons haven't known a thing. It's been a waste of time. I should've been here with —" He cuts himself off, but it's too late. Her eyes are already rolling.
"This is pathetic. It's like there's a big world crisis, and Superman won't help—he'd rather stay at home and play with his puppy."
Now Sam rolls his eyes. "Enough with the stupid dog analogies, Ruby. They're not funny."
"Know what else isn't funny? The APOCALYPSE, Sam. The very real end of the world going down right now! And believe it or not, your brother is PART of the world. He'll die with everyone else if you don't get to Lilith in time!"
Sam looks down as his forehead fills with lines, like the page of a writer's frustrated, crossed-out notes. Ruby's face softens, and she sets down the beer and puts her hand on Sam's arm. "I know how much you care about Dean. And I know you want to help him, but let's face it—you can't. He's damaged goods, and this giant problem of his…well, it's too big for you, literally! Your energy," she tips his chin up, "your STRENGTH, is needed elsewhere. If you save the world, you'll save Dean, too! Bigger picture here, Sam. Take a good long look."
They glance up as the chopper flies back into view. "Come with me tonight," Ruby urges. "Those demons from last night are still close by."
"And why is that?" Sam asks with impatience. "Why do they follow us instead of attacking us?"
"Ask them yourself tonight!"
The chopper lands, and Sam moves in close. "I'll think about it."
"What d'you mean 'think' about it? Sam, yes or no?"
"I don't know yet! Look, just get out of here."
Her hands knuckle her hips. "Why? I'm sick of hiding, and you should be too! You're a force of good, Sam. You should be open about what you're doing!"
"Wow," Dean grunts as he appears, "I actually agree with you for once." The older Winchester brother and the dark-haired demon size each other up.
"Dean," Ruby says evenly.
"Ruby," he sends back in the same tone. "I'd ask how you've been, but I really don't care."
"Likewise. I was just telling Sam here that he should let go of your hand, or you'll just keep holding him back."
She smiles knowingly. He keeps the poker face on. "Better holding him back than holding him down, sweetheart."
Sam frowns. "Dean…"
"A sex joke," Ruby returns. "I'm shocked. But hey," she rubs Sam's arm, "the truth is the truth, and I don't mind. Your brother deserves a little lovin' after all the hard work he does, killing demons and saving the world. You know, that stuff you don't do anymore?"
"RUBY!" Sam snaps. "Enough."
"Naw, it's all right, Sammy! I'm not afraid of her. Let her speak her piece. I'm SO interested in what a demon slut has to say." Dean picks up his beer and takes a smirking sip.
"So you don't mind that this demon slut took a drink of your beer?" Ruby challenges.
Dean resists the strong urge to spit it out and forces the swallow down, his broad smirk still intact. "Course not. After all, if you're as good as Sam says you are, you wouldn't hurt me. I'm golden."
"Exactly," Ruby smirks right back. "You should listen to Sam more often, Dean. He's right about pretty much everything."
"I'm right here, y'know," Sam sighs.
"And so am I." Meesh smiles as she joins them. "And Bobby would be here as well, but he has to fly the helicopter back. So! Who's your friend, Sam?"
"Meesh, this is Ruby. Ruby—"
"Dr. Michelle Madigan," she offers, still smiling as she shakes Ruby's hand. "I've heard so much about you and I have to say, it's so awful to meet you, so truly…AWFUL." Sam rolls his eyes, Dean grins, and Ruby shrugs.
"Ouch. And they say demons are mean…" Ruby spins on her heel and pats Sam's chest. "Call you later. Think about what I said, okay?"
"Yeah. Take care."
Ruby disappears. Dean collapses on the porch steps the second she's gone. Meesh and Sam run and huddle over him, but Dean yells at them not to touch him.
"Hurts….ungh, hurts everywhere!" He wobbles off the step and curls into a ball on the ground, tears flowing down his scrunched-up face.
"This is just like how he was the other night," Sam realizes. "Right before he lost control and grew."
Meesh bites her lip as she processes this and compares it with what the tests told her. "Dean…are you fighting your need to grow?"
"YES, dammit! Can't…won't let it own me…"
"When did it start?"
He glares at her. "Less questions, more pain meds!"
"Soon, Dean, I promise. Just answer me."
Dean rides out another wave of pain before he's able to answer. "Sssince…helicopter. Since Bobby told me…eugh…to stop growing…or we'd crash-sh."
"And now? Were you fighting it while Ruby was here?"
"With everything I got," Dean growls. "Couldn't give her…sat-satisfaction of…seeing me like that ag-gain-n."
"Well she's gone now. You can stop fighting," Sam offers.
"NO! Can't…ever. Have to be strong s-so you won't—!" Dean cuts himself off with a scream of pure torture. Meesh cards her fingers through his short hair as he fights to get himself under control.
"Dean," she coaxes. "Let go. It's okay!"
Terrified, watery eyes look up at her. "But what if I get h-huge and can't go back to norm-mal?"
"Then we'll figure it out."
"All of us," Sam adds. "Together."
Dean shakes his head. "N-no. Pain's not so bad. It'll…pass…in a second."
"In my experience, pain is not something to ignore," Meesh tells him. "If something hurts, you stop doing it."
Dean looks at Meesh's kind eyes and Sam's puppy dog ones and finally gives in. He crawls away from the house, refusing their help, and waves for them to back up. "Don't know how much I'll…"
He gets no further before the urge to grow overtakes him at last. Dean lets out a groan of a breath as he expands. The pain is gone at once, and Dean relaxes into a whole body stretch that feels sooooo good. He allows the growth to continue until the urge is completely gone. When he allows himself to open his eyes, he's surprised to find himself only as big as he was the night before, around 80-feet tall. He'd been expecting to be colossal, like he was back in Chicago.
"That's better, isn't it," Meesh guesses, and Dean nods down at her as he wipes the sweat from his brow. Meesh turns to Sam. "Why don't you make us all some lunch, Sam? Bobby'll be back soon, and I'll send him in to help."
Sam looks up at Dean, who gives him a small smile. "I'm all right, Sammy," he swears. "Just make me about 50 BLTs and I'll be damn near perfect."
Sam chuckles. "No promises." He disappears into the house, and Dean moves around to the kitchen side of the house and bangs on the wall.
"No skimping on the bacon!"
"We're out of bacon!" Sam calls back from inside.
"So get some more!"
"YOU get some more! Two steps and you'll be at the store!"
"And you call ME lazy," Dean chuckles. He looks down as Meesh approaches and finds her looking at him just so, like she's about to make some kind but uncomfortable observation. Dean sits down, leans his back against the house, and gets comfortable, one leg tucked and the other one up so his chin can rest on his knee. "Lemme guess. It's time for talk. What's it gonna be, The More You Know or One To Grow On?"
"No pun intended on the latter, I'm guessing," Meesh winks. Dean rolls his eyes, and she nudges his hand. "Gimme a boost." He holds his palm out, and Meesh steps on. After the short elevator ride, she settles down on his upraised knee.
"So?" Dean asks. "What's the prognosis, doc? What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing," she smiles. "There's nothing wrong with you, Dean."
He ducks his head. "Great, now you're lying to me, too."
"No, I'm not. You're completely healthy—physically, anyway. Your real problems," she taps her temple, "are all up here."
"Well that isn't new. The whole world knows I've got my share of loose screws."
"So does everyone else. The difference is how we deal with it." Meesh rubs her tiny hand on Dean's knee. "Dean…with all we've been through, I'd like to think we've become close." Dean smiles a little and nods. "I hope you'll forgive me for this, but I've come to think of both you and Sam as family—as sons. And right now, I'd like to give you some motherly advice, if that's all right."
Dean wants to reply with a smartass remark to lighten the mood, but finds he's too touched to say a thing. Instead he just nods at her to go on. She smiles, though her eyes are fraught with concern. "Dean, you have got to stop being so hard on yourself. Believe it or not, not everything in the world is your fault."
Listening in from the kitchen, Sam puts down the bread and makes a mental note to kiss Meesh as soon as he's able for saying that to Dean. Dean of course feigns ignorance.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh. So that whole 'Can't stop fighting and can't give in' tough talk was just that? Talk?"
"No, it was the truth. I can't stop fighting and I can't EVER give in. It's bad enough that I've messed up this much already."
"Messed what up?"
Dean just shakes his head, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Meesh decides to try a different angle. "So what are you really pissed off about here: the consequences of messing up, or the fact that you messed up at all?"
"What is this, Twenty Questions?"
"Because if it's the latter," she says, nearly talking over him, "then you're being ridiculous. You can't expect yourself to be perfect, Dean. You're human, just like the rest of us. We all make mistakes."
"And I've made a helluva lot more than anyone else," Dean snaps.
Meesh frowns. "And are those mistakes SO terrible that you're beyond forgiveness? Even from yourself?" Dean rolls his eyes at that. "Hey!" Meesh smacks her hand on the giant knee beneath her. "Don't do that. This is important, Dean. YOU are important. Say it! I want to hear it."
"Fine, I'm important," he drawls, annoyed. "But everyone else is more important."
Meesh shakes her head at him. "Why do you do that? Why are you so convinced you're last in line?"
He looks right at her and states, "Cos no one's ever told me otherwise."
"What about Sam?"
There's a pregnant pause, and Sam finds himself pressing his ear to the wall to make sure he hears Dean's answer. The pause continues, and Sam starts to wonder if Dean will say anything. But just as he's about to pull away, he hears it, soft and sad:
"Sam doesn't tell me anything these days."
Meesh gives him a look of sympathy. Dean looks away instead of accepting it, so Meesh asks, "What about in the past?"
"What ABOUT the past?" Dean throws back, a little louder than he intended, and Meesh jumps from the shout. He cups his hand around her until she's steadied again on his knee. "Sorry." He takes his hand back and rubs his forehead with it. "Look. There was a time…a long time ago, where yeah, Sam used to look up at me like I was a superhero, and he'd tell me I'm awesome. And I felt awesome, y'know? Felt like I was actually doing something right. Every day Dad would come back from a hunt and bark orders at me, tell me to be faster, be better, stronger. But Sammy…he liked me just the way I was." He lets out a little laugh. "But then we grew up. I'm still the big brother, but he looks down at me. Well, obviously, cos he's taller, but…I mean, even if he's sitting down, he's looking down at me. I'm not a hero in his eyes anymore, I'm just…a disappointment."
Sam, still listening inside, blinks away a tear. He's glad Meesh asks the question he knows he wouldn't be able to get out: "You really believe that?"
Dean shrugs as a cynical smirk plays on his lips. "Well you know how it is, Meesh. You've seen it. If I'm around, he'll use any excuse to leave. And I can't blame him, y'know? I wouldn't want to be around a fuck-up like me, either."
That's not true, Dean! Sam thinks.
"That's not true, Dean," Meesh says at the same time. But Dean shakes his head.
"Yeah it is. Inside this gorgeous packaging is an unwanted mess. Like stale fruit cake wrapped with a big-ass bow." He laughs at his own criticism. Meesh shakes her head at him and gives a sad sigh, and Dean's face grows cold. "Don't pity me," he warns her. "Everyone's always on my case to open up, share my feelings, all that bullshit. Ain't that right, Sammy," he knocks on the side of the house, "I know you're listening in. You like what you've heard?"
"Of course he doesn't, Dean!" Meesh insists.
"Oh yeah? So why hasn't he come out here and told me himself?" He waits for an answer from Meesh, but gets none. His eyes then drift to the window to see if Sam will open up and say something, but the window stays shut. He has no way of knowing that Sam is actually at the front door, frozen stiff by his overwhelming emotions as he struggles to come up with the right words to set Dean straight. But his tongue remains tied, and Sam hangs his head in defeat. Outside, Dean feels his point has been made by their lack of reaction, so he closes his eyes. "And that's the truth," he sums up.
"No, that's the perceived truth from someone who has grown up feeling like he was never good enough," Meesh protests. Dean grumbles something under his breath, and Meesh stands tall on his knee. "I wish I'd known your father, Dean. I would've punched some sense into his thick head a long time ago."
"It wouldn't've done any good," Dean counters. "Dad didn't take orders, he gave them."
"So if your father would've ordered you to think about your own wellbeing for a change, would you have done it?" Dean opens his eyes and glares at her. "Answer the question, dammit! Why can't you see yourself in a better light? Why don't you ever try and put yourself at the front of the line?"
Storm clouds close in over Dean's demeanor, lightning flickering in his eyes. "You don't get it," he growls. "When I put myself first, people get hurt."
"Dean…"
"When I was a kid and let myself have one night off to play videogames, Sammy nearly got killed by a shtriga." Dean very slowly starts to grow. "When I was playing tag with a reaper, Dad traded his life for mine. He DIED for me, Meesh. And when I couldn't live with Sam being dead, I did the same thing, and for WHAT? All I did was piss him off and make him live every damn day in fear and worry as my time ran out. I brought him back so he could suffer! All so I wouldn't be alone. How fucked up is that?" Meesh tries to speak, but Dean gives her a very dark glare. "NO," he thunders. "Save it. I don't deserve any sympathy. They were MY mistakes, and people got hurt. FACT." He looks at the sky again, shaking his head in his fury. "And you know what? None of those even compare with the Grand Finale: what I did downstairs. That's right, Sammy," he thumps his elbow hard into the wall, making the siding crack (and his eavesdropping brother jump back), "I'm bitching about Hell again! Better call Ruby and complain!"
"What are you talking about?" Meesh shouts. "Trading lives…Sam dying…Hell? You can't possibly mean—"
"Yeah, Meesh, Hell. The Pit. I sold my soul to save Sam, and they gave me one year before the hellhounds came and made me their new chew toy." Meesh looks stricken, but Dean is too riled up to really care. "Don't look so damn surprised. You worked with the supernatural at that secret base for all those years—you know what's out there, what's really real. Turns out Hell is just as real." He looks away and adds quietly, "But it's a lot worse than you could ever imagine."
She swallows hard, overwhelmed by Dean's admission. "H-how…how long were you down there?"
"Four months up here. Forty years down there." He turns away when he sees tears streaming down Meesh's face. "Don't cry for me. I only made it through 30 years before they broke me." He nods, forever embittered by his weakness. "Thirty fucking pathetic years. And then I got off that rack cos I couldn't take it anymore. I put myself first, and you know what happened those last ten years? I turned into a monster and doomed the fucking world!" He grabs her, sets her on the ground, and stands up. "So no, Meesh, I don't think it's EVER good to think about my wellbeing, because I don't fucking deserve to be well!" He kicks Bobby's garbage can into the wild blue yonder. "DAMMIT, I need a drink!"
Dean thuds around the house, spies his remaining beer on the porch, and shrinks down without thinking about it; he needs a beer that badly. The opened one is emptied in no time, and Dean quickly unscrews another, gulping it down as well. By now, Meesh has run around to the front of the house. She frowns at him, and he leers back.
"Don't like it, don't watch." He takes another long drink, and his body starts to tremble. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to stop, but it only gets worse.
"Do you need to grow again?" Meesh asks, but it grates on Dean's nerves, like she's asking her baby boy if he needs to go potty.
"I'm FINE. It'll pass."
"GOD you're stubborn."
He grins, though his body keeps shaking. "Bobby's never bitched about the Winchester's best trait?"
"Oh he bitches all right," she admits, sitting down next to him, but when Dean looks at her, she adds, "in his own loving way." Dean laughs, and his trembling seems to get worse. She puts an arm around his shoulders to support him. "He's worried about you boys. So am I."
Dean's shaking hand lifts the beer to his lips, but he has to add his other hand to steady himself enough to take a sip. He sees Meesh's face of concern and waves it off. "Don't worry about us. Worry about Ruby."
"Oh, you mean that Jezebel that was trying to pass herself off as the girl next door?" Meesh grins, and Dean snickers and nods.
"A lot of things piss me off, but she is at the top of the list." He looks down at his boot. "Should've smooshed her when I had the chance."
"Sam seems to trust her…"
"Yeah, he does. She saved his life while I was downstairs, but…" Dean takes a few more shaky drinks of his beer. "I can't trust her. I KNOW she's up to something. I can feel it in my gut. It scares me."
"Ruby scares you?" Meesh presses.
"NO, Ruby doesn't fucking scare me," he growls. Another sip of beer, and he clears his throat. "What scares me is the not knowing. I never know where she's gonna be, or when she's gonna take Sam away again. Drives me up the fuckin' wall. It's like I'm constantly bracing myself to find him gone."
"But he always comes back, right?"
"So far. But how long is it gonna last, Meesh?" He looks at her, eyes pleading for an answer, but Meesh has none to give. Dean sighs. "Cas keeps warning me that Sam's heading down a dark path, and I know that Ruby's the one showing him the way. I don't know where it ends, but if the angels are that freaked, I'm guessing it ain't Disney World at the end of the road." He passes his bottle from one hand to the other, distracted by his fears. "One of these days he's gonna stay gone, I know it—either cos of something she says or something I do. That's why I can't screw up anymore. That's why I have to get this growing bullshit under control."
"Hence why you fight against growing when you feel it coming: you think that Sam's gonna think you're weak and leave you behind."
"He already thinks I'm weak," Dean murmurs. "Told me so himself. Told me all I do is hold him back. I don't want him to be right." He looks up at the roof of the porch as he finishes off his beer. "And Goddammit, I don't want to be left behind again."
His body starts to sway, and Meesh puts another arm on him to keep him propped up. "Dean? Are you all right?"
He doesn't answer. His trembles have become shakes, and he's breathing hard. Meesh pounds on the front door. "Sam! I need you!"
Dean is vaguely aware of the rigamarole around him, but his head is swimming and his heart is pounding for release against his rib cage. He knows he isn't drunk. Nowhere near it—not off of three beers. Somewhere to his left he hears his name, and a third hand attaches itself to Dean's back. He tries to turn, but he's so dizzy now, and his limbs are like putty. The world does a somersault, and Dean face-plants into the porch, dropping into darkness...
When Bobby gets back, he opens the front door and smacks into a wall of noise. Sam and Meesh are in his face and talking at the same time. He has to hold his hands to his ears to get them to shut up, and when they do, he scowls at both of them.
"One at a time, kiddies," he grunts.
"Something's wrong with Dean," Sam informs him, already leading Bobby into the den, where Dean is lying on the couch.
"We don't know what happened," Meesh adds right away. "We were having a talk. He told me a little bit about…Hell." She swallows hard as Bobby and Sam's eyes grow wide. "A-and he got angry…very angry. Grew pretty big, too. But then he came back to the front of the house and was back to normal just like that. He was drinking beer one second and then he was just…out."
"How many did he have?"
"Three." Sam points to the empty bottles, and Bobby moves over to take a look.
"I already checked for residue," Meesh tells Bobby. "They're clean."
"On the inside, maybe…" Bobby takes two of the bottles, one empty and one unopened, into his office, Meesh and Sam right on his heels. He opens a cabinet and grabs a small pouch. He takes a pinch of pink powder out of it and sprinkles it over both bottles. Within seconds, they're glowing toxic green.
"Hexed," Bobby announces. "Beer's safe, but the bottle's not. Here," he motions for them to come over. "Rub your hands in this and then wash them off. It'll neutralize the poison."
"Poison?" Sam repeats. "Dean has been poisoned?"
"Through his skin, yeah. You two probably didn't touch them long enough to get hurt, but can't be too careful." He waits until both Sam and Meesh have thoroughly cleaned their hands with the pink powder and water, and then he follows suit.
"So the question is, who would poison Dean?" Sam wonders. "And why? And HOW, for that matter? All the wards around here should keep pretty much everything out." Both Bobby and Meesh are looking at him, and he frowns. "What?" It dawns on him, and he rolls his eyes. "It wasn't Ruby."
"You sure about that?" Bobby says. "Cos it seems pretty coincidental that Dean got sick just minutes after Ruby dropped by to say howdy-doo."
"She wouldn't poison Dean," Sam insists. They still just look at him, and he stands tall. "She WOULDN'T, all right? They don't exactly like each other, but come on—what would she have to gain by hurting Dean?"
"Uh, you all to herself?" Meesh points out. Sam opens his mouth to argue, but Bobby cuts in first.
"Was she near the beer at any time?" Bobby's eyes narrow as Sam hesitates to answer. "Sam?"
"She might've…taken a drink from Dean's bottle." Now Meesh and Bobby look at each other, and Sam gets irritated. "Look, it wasn't her, I know it. For all she knew, I could've taken the next beer! Why would she try to hurt me?"
The other two think on this a minute before Bobby finally concedes, "All right, one point to you. But it's still pretty fishy."
Meesh nods. "Let's just focus on getting him well for now." She leads them back to Dean, who is still out cold. She puts her hand on his forehead and frowns. "He's getting feverish. I think I'm going to run over to my office and pick up a few things." She's already up and almost out the door by the time her sentence is complete. "Bobby, Sam, make sure he stays cool. I'll be back in a few."
As she drives away, Bobby stands up. "I'm gonna check on the wards, make sure they're all still up to snuff. You gonna be all right on your own a few minutes?" Sam nods, and Bobby takes his leave. Sam sits down next to the couch and watches his brother with worry.
Should've been out there, he berates himself. Should've told him he was wrong—I don't think he's a disappointment at all! But I didn't go. I couldn't. Shit, he jabs the edge of the couch, if anyone's a disappointment, it's me. He shakes his head. No big surprise there…
Dean lets out a cranky moan, and the mental whip lashing in Sam's mind ceases at once as concern takes over. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam whispers. He soothes Dean's hair back from his forehead, exactly as Dean has done for Sam countless times in their lives, and he peers down at Dean's face. Far from peaceful, it's instead troubled: lips pressed and forehead creased as his features comment on the situation while he's asleep. Sam thinks back to the conversation he overheard and wonders what he missed when they moved to the front porch. He'd tried to keep listening, but the front door was too thick. Sam wonders what else Dean admitted. Now he'll never know. And the poison keeping Dean down and out isn't exactly helping matters.
'Poison,' Sam can just hear Dean scoff. 'Can you believe this, Sammy? Poison!' He'd shake his head and add, 'I've made a lot of enemies over the years, but trying to kill me with the evils of Glam Metal? That's just mean! Ugh, my ears are already bleeding, and they haven't even played one fucking note of "Unskinny Bop" yet'.
Sam smirks at his brother's lame joke in his imagination, feeling the same way about their latest weird problem. Poison. Sam can't believe it, either. Who would poison Dean, anyway? he wonders. Using poison is such a human thing. Demons don't use poison. And it's not like there are basilisks or any other poisonous monsters wandering around Bobby's salvage yard...
The word "monster" triggers a mental replay of Dean's words from earlier:
I turned into a monster and doomed the fucking world!
"Doomed the world…" Sam searches every corner of his memory to see if Dean has ever said anything about that before. He hasn't. Probably just Dean being hard on himself again, Sam decides—or tries to, at least. A nagging feeling deep inside has him doubting his own logic. What had Dean really done those last 10 years down there? Dean won't talk about it, and Sam hasn't let himself imagine, too scared of what he'd come up with. What if Dean did something terrible? Something so huge, so unspeakable, that it really DID doom the world? And what if someone found out… Sam looks at the beer bottle. And tried to kill Dean as retribution?
Sam gets to his feet at once. "Bobby!" he calls, knowing the hunter is somewhere in the house. "We need to check your surveillance. NOW."
Over the rest of the afternoon, Sam and Bobby go on full security detail. Bobby goes over every ward on his property while Sam pours over surveillance video—and finds nothing. No one besides Bobby, Meesh, Dean, Ruby, and himself were in the salvage yard all last night and today. He then turned to invisibility spells, and is now cross referencing with supernatural creatures and poison. He's only come up with a handful of possibilities so far, and they are real straw graspers at best.
Now Sam looks at his watch: 4:04. He gets up to check on Dean again. Meesh had hooked his brother up to a saline IV (blessed with holy water by Bobby), and Dean's body slurped it right up—but he didn't wake. Dean is now on bag number two, and Meesh is sitting on the chair next to him, working on a crossword puzzle.
"Any change?" Sam asks.
"No, sorry. His color is much better, but he's still out. At least he's dreaming now." She points to Dean's eyes, closed shut but bulging with movement. "That's a good sign," she assures Sam. "Shouldn't be too long now before he's awake and asking for a little gastronomical comfort."
Sam smiles and bends down to give Meesh a hug. "Thanks. For everything." She pats and rubs his back in reply. Then she stands up as Sam pulls away.
"Suppose I should get started on those pork chops." Dean's stomach rumbles right then, and Sam and Meesh laugh. "Well I guess you should get thinking," Meesh smiles as he heads toward the kitchen.
"About?"
"What you boys are gonna cook ME tomorrow. This happy hostess crap doesn't come for free y'know!" She looks at him to show she means it, and Sam salutes. Meesh disappears into the kitchen, and Sam smiles at his brother again.
"You going to wake up and make your famous pancakes, or do I have to make a Perkins run?" Sam asks him. His phone rings in reply. Sam looks at who is calling and rolls his eyes as he lifts it to his ear. "What?"
"Demons are at Bobby's doorstep," Ruby says. "Just thought you'd like to know."
Sam rushes to the window, phone pressed to his ear, but all he sees are approaching storm clouds, fat with rain. "Where?"
"Well they're not THERE-there yet, but they're on the way."
"How do you know?"
"Same way I always now. Now get out here. I'm at the end of Bobby's driveway."
Sam hesitates, looking at Dean. "Can't you do this one on your own?"
"I don't know, Sam, do you want to take that risk? If I fail, you'll have a demon posse on your ass!"
"All right, all right. Hang on." Sam shuts his phone and heads to the door. "Be right back, Meesh," he calls, keeping it vague so he can make a faster getaway. But Meesh hears the door open and close, so she peers out the window and spots Sam tearing off toward the salvage yard's entrance. Ominous thunder rolls in the distance, and she sighs.
"Nothing like setting the mood…" She channels her worry into stirring the mashed potatoes.
Dean is in a zoo. A zoo for freaks and monsters, complete with humans strolling by and taking pictures of the captive beasts. There's a swamp monster, reanimated corpses, every kind of sewer mutant, and a sleeping yeti, but Dean towers over them all—literally the biggest freak around. A large crowd has gathered around him, none of them taller than his ankle, and they're all looking up at his huge body with a mix of awe and fear.
"What is this?" Dean asks them. People start snapping pictures as he walks over to the front of the cage. "Who put me in here?"
A little boy starts jumping up and down. "Mommy, he can TAWK!"
"Yes, dear. Some of the freaks here are just smart enough to speak."
Dean nods slowly. "Oh, I get it. Very funny, Alastair." He looks around for his old nemesis but doesn't find him. Then something hits him in the shin, and he looks to his right. A female zookeeper is tossing in slabs of raw meet from a small doorway in the corner. Much to Dean's embarrassment, his stomach growls.
"Come and get it, Dean sweetie!" she coos. "T-bone steaks, your favorite!" Dean gets down on one knee and picks up a few pieces of the meat. They smell awful. He backhands the pile clear across the floor.
"I'm NOT an animal," he growls. The zookeeper, unafraid, simply tsks him.
"Keep that up and there'll be no pie tonight!" She wags her finger at him before she brushes her hand over the toe of his boot. "Later sweetie!" She shuts the door and locks it.
"He not hungy for meats, Mommy," that same little boy says. "Maybe he want peanuts?" The boy starts throwing little pudgy handfuls of peanuts at Dean, and other gawkers soon join him. Dean gets up and rattles his cage. The entire crowd jumps back as one.
"GO AWAY!" he bellows. They don't—in fact, the picture taking triples now that Dean is standing right in front of them. But the little boy is wailing from Dean's outburst, and his heart goes out to him. He kneels down and reaches out two fingers. "Hey…I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to scare you." The little boy wipes his eyes, smiling when the giant smiles back at him. But the boy's mother grabs her son and holds him behind her.
"Stay away from him, you monster!"
She marches him through the crowd, though most of the people don't notice, too busy taking more snapshots. Dean winces as a headache forms, and he turns his back on them all and sits down on the left side of his cage, leaning his head against the thick bars.
"See? He's fine, Sam," Ruby's voice says from somewhere. "Just like I told you."
Dean looks down and finds Ruby and Sam looking back up at him. Sam is holding a huge plastic cup of something pink, and Ruby is licking an ice cream cone.
"Sammy?" Dean turns so he's facing them.
"Hi, Dean," Sam replies, forcing a smile. "How's my big brother today?"
"How am I—? Sam, LOOK at me! I'm in a damn cage in a zoo! Help me get out of here!"
Sam shakes his head and gives him a pouty look. "Now Dean, you know we can't do that. You're too dangerous to be outside anymore."
"What? Since when?"
"Since you became a big giant freak, you big giant freak!" Ruby answers. Dean glares at her.
"So this was your idea."
"No, Dean. It was mine." Sam now has his disappointment front and center, and he sighs as Dean looks at him in disbelief. "We've been over this. You're too big…too much! You're screwing up all the time and making everything worse, and I don't…I can't live like this anymore, Dean! Everyone's counting on me to be my best, and you…" Sam shakes his head at him. "You just keep getting in the way."
Dean can't believe what he's hearing. "What are you saying?"
"He's saying he's sick of cleaning up all the shit you keep crapping out," Ruby snarks. Dean reaches to grab her and shut that damn mouth up for good, but the bars are too narrow. "Aww, Deanie mad? Deanie wanna hurt me?" She licks her cone and smiles. "Just more proof that you have to stay locked up. C'mon Sam." She walks off, but Sam remains, looking up at Dean with pity.
Dean sits on his knees and bows forward until he's almost lying flat, curling his fingers around the bars as he peers out at his little brother. "Sam, I'm begging you—PLEASE tell me this is a joke." Sam starts to speak, but Dean talks over him. "You starting up the Prank Wars again? Fine, great! You win. You're the All-Time Champ, all right? Now let me out of here."
"It's not a joke, Dean," Sam tells him. Dean shakes his head, still not wanting to believe it, but Sam remains serious. "I'm sorry it's come to this, man. I really am. But it's for your own good, Dean. You know that, right?"
"No, Sammy, I should be out there with you. I'm supposed to take care of you!"
"But you can't. Not the way you are now. It was bad enough when you came back from Hell all weak and whiny, but then you got bit by that hydros and all your problems just grew right with you." Sam steps right up to the bars and asks, "You honestly expect me to just drop everything and help you through your shortcomings?"
"You said you wanted to stay," Dean reminds him. "That night in the cornfield, remember? You said you wanted to help me!"
Sam sighs. "I was humoring you. This constantly running back to you every time you get into trouble thing has to stop. I have important work to do, and I can't get it done with you around. The world needs me, Dean—ME. Not you. You're too much of a burden."
"But Sam—"
"Just stop, okay? You're embarrassing me." He checks his watch as tears roll down his brother's face. If Sam even notices them, he doesn't show any sign that he gives a damn. "All right. Time for me to go, Dean. I've got work to do."
"No," Dean begs. "Don't do this. Don't leave me here!"
"You'll be FINE, Dean. It's safe, it's clean, and the people here will take good care of you." Sam puts his small hand on one of Dean's white knuckles. "Goodbye, Dean." He walks away.
"No…Sam!" Dean gets to his feet, but Sam just keeps walking; he doesn't even look back. Ruby joins him, putting a supportive hand on his back, and leads him away. Dean hits his cage wall with his fists. "NO! Don't leave! SAAAM!" They disappear into the crowd. Dean backs up and runs full tilt at the bars, ramming them with his shoulder. The bars bend but don't break. Dean snarls in fury, grows bigger, and rams them again and again until they finally give way. Sirens sound all around the zoo, and the crowds scatter into a panic. Dean just looks for his brother.
"Sammy?" He steps over the swamp thing's habitat and cups his hands around his mouth. "SAM!" No answer, save for screams from retreating zoo-goers. Dean runs till he gets to the front gate, where the zookeepers have all gathered. Bobby and Meesh are among them for some reason, and Bobby is holding a cattle prod up and waving it around.
"DEAN! Can you hear me?" Bobby shouts.
"Where's Sam?" Dean barks down at him.
"I don't know."
"Gotta find him. Gotta tell him I'm sorry!" Dean steps over the zookeepers, ignoring the sting of the cattle prod as it hits him in the leg.
Bobby and Meesh watch him go, standing at the salvage yard's gates and newly broken electric fence as Dean thuds away, already 30-feet tall and growing. Bobby lowers the broom he'd been waving to get Dean's attention.
"He's sleepwalking, I'm sure of it," Meesh says.
Bobby looks back at the big Dean-shaped hole in the side of his house and grunts a few swears under his breath. Then he sighs through his nose and nods. "Well I'd better wake him up before he makes the evening news. You stay here in case he comes back, all right?"
She kisses him on the cheek. "Be careful."
"Stay sweet," he replies. Then he runs over to his Chevelle and takes off, while Meesh goes back inside the house.
Meanwhile, about five miles down the road in the opposite direction, Sam and Ruby are standing in a self-made roadblock consisting of her car and the two of them. A storm is swiftly approaching from the west—no rain yet, but the winds have picked up, thrashing the tall grasses in the fields around them.
"Here." Ruby hands Sam a flask. "Brought you a liquid lunch."
Sam unscrews the cap and takes a sniff. "Demon blood?"
"Freshly squeezed." She points to the cut across her arm. "Drink up, Cowboy. They're coming."
A pair of headlights appears on the road before them. Sam can feel the demons' dark energy even from this distance: they're powerful. He can't let them get to Bobby's—to Dean, lying helpless on the couch. So Sam tips the flask back and drinks up. His own dark energy lights up at once, and power flows through his veins and alights every nerve. Sam smiles. Ruby smiles right back.
"Go get 'em, tiger." She pushes him forward, and Sam stands in the middle of the road, more than ready. He holds his hand out and throws his will at the approaching car. Five sparks of light burst into view within the vehicle, and they hear screaming in the distance. Sam shuts his eyes…and pulls. The car speeds up, charging at them. Ruby pulls on Sam's arm to get him to move, but he shrugs her off.
"Just watch the show," he tells her, eyes still shut. Sam clenches his fist, and every window in the car breaks. Sam opens his eyes and smirks. The car swerves and runs off the road, flipping several times until it comes to rest in a field. Sam and Ruby walk toward them as the demons try and escape.
"Where do you think you're going?" Sam asks. He doesn't give them a chance to answer: another burst of his demon-blood-powered will sends the demonic smoke into the ground, where it turns to ash as the evil entities burn and die. Sam releases his fist and buckles at the waist. Ruby supports him as he gulps in air.
"Are you all right?" Sam nods at her question, and she rubs his back. "Sam…that was AMAZING. You are getting so fucking good at this!"
He stands up straight. "No headache, either."
She beams at him. "Told you you'd get used to it. TOLD you you'd be great! And look," she points to the smoldering ground, "you're incredible!" She stands back and admires him. "Aren't you glad you came out here and showed them who's boss?"
Sam gives a little, bashful laugh and scratches behind his neck. "It was pretty cool. Dean would've loved seeing the car flip…" His voice trails off as he thinks about Dean. Yeah, the Evel Knievel stuff would've made him happy, his conscience agrees. But the demon blood? Not so much.
"Hey." Ruby gives his shoulder a little punch. "Don't second guess this, all right? You did GREAT, Sam. You should be proud of yourself. You killed demons and kept your family safe, all by yourself! If that doesn't earn you a gold star, I don't know what will."
Sam nods. "Thanks, Ruby."
The rain clouds finally split open above them, and they run for cover in her car. As soon as they shut the door, Sam hears his phone ringing in his pocket. He opens it up and finds he's missed 11 calls. Oh shit. He flips it open at once before he misses another one. "Hello?"
"Sam, where ARE you?" Bobby yells in his ear.
"Not far from your place, why? Is Dean okay?"
"NO, he's huge and sleepwalking and looking for you!"
Sam blinks a few times as he processes that. "Since when does Dean sleepwalk?" he wonders aloud.
"Since a few minutes ago! He's in a neighborhood and if you don't get over here—" Lightning strikes and the rest of his conversation cuts in and out. "Hurting pretty bad…winds nearly…and then…okay? Hurry up!"
"What? Bobby, I didn't get all that."
"I'll text you directions. Just get here!"
Sam hangs up and waits for the text. "So?" Ruby asks him, and Sam starts; he'd forgotten she was even in the car with him.
"It's Dean. He's in trouble."
Ruby snorts. "Big surprise."
Sam ignores her as the text comes in. "I need you to drop me off…"
A few minutes later and they're in suburbia. Tornado sirens are blaring all around, as trees struggle to stay rooted to the ground despite the gusting winds. A power line snaps, and Ruby swerves to miss the sparking cables.
"Just let me out here!" Sam yells over the noise.
"Are you insane? It's a death trap out there!"
"Yeah, and Dean's somewhere in it!" Sam gets out as the car is still rolling to a stop. Ruby grabs his arm and makes him wait.
"Dean can take care of himself!"
"I know, but I'm going anyway!" He pulls his arm free. "He'd do the same for me!" With that, he shuts the door. Ruby hightails it out of there, and Sam gets his flashlight out. Little good that it does him—most of the power is now out in this small neighborhood, and his thin beam can barely penetrate the sheets of rain all around him. He moves forward at a labored pace, wind and rain keeping him from moving too fast, and only when the lightning strikes is he able to see where he's going.
Suddenly the ground gives way, and Sam trips and falls into a depression in someone's soggy lawn. The lightning illuminates the details: a round wall behind him, and a straight edge at the front. Sam knows this shape. Just like the heel of a really big boot. He climbs out of the partial boot print and runs on, ducking through people's yards and gardens as he follows the trail.
"Dean!" His yell is swallowed by the storm, but he keeps trying. "Dean! DEEEAN!"
And then he hears a faint call in the distance: "Saaaaam!"
Sam turns toward it. "DEAN? Where are you?" He waits for a reply, and after a few tense seconds, he hears it again.
"Saaaam!" It's hoarse and laced with melancholia, but definitely Dean. Sam veers between two houses, runs past the pair behind them, and comes upon a cul-de-sac. Bobby is on the other side, yelling at Dean, who is standing in the driveway. He's about 80-feet tall again, and he looks miserable—and not just due to being completely drenched head to toe. He's pale, he's shivering, and he looks incredibly sad. Sam is floored at the sight. He's never, ever seen his brother looking so down.
"Where are you Sammy?" Dean asks, sounding a bit like a little boy. Before Sam gets a chance to respond, Dean breaks the roof off a two-story house as easy as lifting the cover from a cookie jar. Sam is dumbfounded, and he prays that the family is in the basement due to the storm so they won't see any of this. "Sammy?" Dean asks again, peering inside. "Please come out, Sammy. Please? I know you're mad at me but…just…please, Sammy, let me know you're okay." He sets the roof back down, visibly discouraged.
"DEAN!" Sam runs forward, and Bobby, Meesh, and Dean all turn to him as one.
"Sammy?" Dean asks softly. Sam runs past Meesh and Bobby as he gets to the driveway, and then he walks slowly toward his brother.
"Yeah, Dean, I'm here." He smiles up at Dean, but Dean doesn't seem to see him. He looks awake, but his eyes are vacant, staring into nothing. Then he remembers Meesh mentioning sleepwalking, so he waits patiently as Dean creeps toward him—a shy giant in front of a full-scale dollhouse.
"Sammy? You…you came back!" He sounds so happy…so RELIEVED. But then his smile drops again, and he looks afraid. "Are you gonna stay?"
"Yeah, Dean, I'm staying. But first we have to get out of the rain, all right?"
"Okay," Dean nods. Then he reaches down, picks Sam up, and holds him up to his cheek, careful not to crush him as he nuzzles and hugs him. Sam endures it—at least Dean's big hands provide warmth in the chilly rain. But then his hair flies straight up as Dean starts…sniffing him. And if that isn't the weirdest sensation Sam has ever felt. But Dean speaks up before Sam can even wriggle in discomfort.
"Are you hurt, Sammy?"
"No, Dean, I'm fine." But his giant brother looks him over anyway.
"But you smell like blood," Dean tells him, still looking worried. Sam swallows hard as he tries to remember if he spilled any demon blood on his shirt. He's 99% sure he didn't. That doesn't keep him from being nervous anyway.
"I'm FINE, Dean, I swear, okay?" He gives Dean a big smile, and is relieved when Dean smiles, too. "Are YOU okay, Dean?" Sam asks, both because he wants to know and because he wants the spotlight off him.
"I'm just so glad you came back!" Dean's voice breaks with emotion, and as Sam looks up, alarmed, a big fat tear drops onto his head. "I swear I'll do better, Sam. I'll give 300 percent. I won't be a burden, I won't hold you back. I'll work extra hard, I promise! You won't have to worry about me at ALL."
Sam doesn't know what to think of all this, so he just pats Dean's thumb. "Dean, it's OKAY."
"I won't fuck up again," Dean cries back, like he didn't even hear what Sam just told him. "I'm sorry I got bitten by the hydros, I'm sorry I broke the first seal, but I won't make any more mistakes EVER!"
Sam is floored by Dean's admission. "You…what?" Dean just keeps apologizing, and Sam puts his hands out to Dean's face to get him to stop for a moment. Sam swallows hard when Dean looks at him like he's about to be executed. "What do you mean you broke the first seal?" Sam asks.
Dean doesn't get a chance to answer: lightning strikes a tree, and it falls and lands right on his toes. He's awake at once. "OW! Son of a—" He looks around as his mind unfuzzes. He's definitely not at Bobby's place anymore. "Where…?"
"Dean?"
Dean looks down and finds Sam in his hands, Bobby at his feet, and rain everywhere else. "Somebody mind telling me why the hell we're out here getting soaked?"
The storm replies instead. Hail pours down from the sky, more power lines snap, and a shed behind someone's house breaks away. "Holy shit!" Dean grabs Bobby and looks around for Meesh, but he doesn't see her. "Meesh? Meesh!"
"She's back at the house!" Bobby yells back. Lightning strikes a little too close for comfort, and turns to run, but the winds are so strong that even Dean's giant body is having trouble moving forward. And then he sees it: a tornado, black as night and heading west.
Right in the direction of Bobby's house.
"Shit. SHIT!" Dean grows until he's large enough to overpower the gale-force winds. Then he's off and running, holding Sam and Bobby close to his chest, on either side of his now car-sized amulet.
"What're you…doing…Dean?" Bobby yells, fighting to speak despite the pressure from Dean's huge body moving all around him.
"Getting back to your house before the tornado does." He looks down at Bobby and isn't surprised to get a small glare back. "What? There's no way I'm letting some damn twister take away your home, Bobby! Especially not with Meesh still inside!" Sam yells something behind Dean's fingers, and it's only then that Dean realizes he even had his fingers over his brother's face. He moves them apart. "What?"
"I SAID, what good are you gonna be to Meesh if YOU get killed trying to save her?"
"What's that Sammy? I can't hear you!" Dean puts his fingers over Sam again while his brother tries to repeat what Dean heard perfectly fine. Bobby starts in on Dean a second later, so Dean tucks both of his cranky passengers under his arms and pushes on. They're back in less than a minute thanks to Dean's crazy-long strides. Meesh runs out onto the porch as Dean sets Bobby and Sam down, but his huge hand pushes them all back inside. He feels them open the door and pound against his fingers to let them out, so he keeps his hand over it.
"Will you quit bitching at me and get in the basement already?" Dean yells over the noise. He's sure they're yelling back at him, but even his giant ears can't make out what they say over the clatter of hailstones hitting scrap metal and lightning bolts scorching the land. Dean locates the tornado. It's grown and is still on a collision course with Bobby's place.
"You're not the only one that can grow," Dean snarls at it. "Watch this." He grows and grows and grows until he's big enough to cover the house, the driveway, and about half of the salvage yard itself. He grins in satisfaction…until he realizes he's still growing…and growing…and growing. What the…stop! STOP! His panic only makes him grow faster. He steps over the house before his boots plow through it, and he grabs his car and watches it shrink in his hand: Hot Wheels to Micro Machine to Lego to the teeny cars in the board game Life to half THAT size. The expansion finally stops at that point, and Dean holds his palm up as close as he can to his eyes without the tiny object blurring. His beautiful baby looks more like a sliver in his skin than a car.
Dean is so stunned that even his inner critic is silent for once. He just can't comprehend how he can be THIS big…even more ginormous than he was in Chicago! And there's no pain…absolutely none. He's just a modern-day colossus standing in South Dakota, and it was so easy…so effortless. Dean swallows his extreme unease as he takes in the world from this height. The fields below him are a patchwork quilt. The scrapped vehicles in Bobby's yard are multicolored, metallic shavings. And the house…
Son of a bitch, I can't even SEE the house. But he does see something else: the tornado. It's nearly upon him, and even though Dean is now the definition of huge, the force of nature dwarfs him. So Dean bends down slowly, carefully, watching for the house he knows is going to be very small. But when he sees it, he still can't believe it's THAT small—only about the size of a baby's building block. The microscopic front door is closed, and he prays that his family finally got some sense in their heads and is locked safely within the panic room. He eases himself onto his left side just as the hail lets up, replaced by winds that lift up the crushed cars at the extremes of the salvage yard and toss them across the landscape. The tornado blasts through Bobby's neighbor's fence. Dean only has seconds.
Cover, don't crush, he orders himself as he lays down almost flat over the entire salvage yard. He digs the toes of his boots in deep into the fields, and he props himself up by his forearms over the tiny house, letting his enormous hands shield the Impala and Bobby's Chevelle from damage. It's black as night now. Everything from trees to fences to the broken RV Dean once hid behind hit the giant body, tearing gashes and leaving bruises, but Dean doesn't let any of it break his concentration.
Cover, don't crush.
The tornado tears into Bobby's yard, and Dean holds on tight.
Cover, don't CRUSH!
The overwhelming pressure fluctuations plug and pop his ears until they bleed, while the wind crushes him as a bulldozer, stealing the air from his lungs as it fights to sap his strength. Do your worst, you son of a bitch! he yells at it in his mind. I won't let go! The tornado roars back, shoving the giant over and over as it fights for its prize, but Dean refuses to be moved. You've taken everything else away from me! Dean yells at God, Fate, Mother Nature—whomever might be listening. I am NOT letting you take them too, you hear me? Not this time!
And all at once, it's over. The tornado moves on for another half mile before it weakens and dissipates. The rain is still coming down, lit up by the occasional bolt of lightning, but it's all so much quieter now that Dean wonders for a moment if he's gone deaf. He pushes away from the ground. All kinds of items blown in by the storm fall off his back as he sits up and brushes himself off. Then he rests on his hands and knees as he looks down and around. It's all still there. He smiles as he confirms it. Everything. Every last piece in the yard is right where it should be, and the house is standing tall, like nothing happened.
I did it. I actually, fucking did it! Dean's so relieved that he starts to laugh. Unfortunately, his laughter at this size is enough to start a small earthquake, and for Bobby, Meesh, and Sam, who are all running up the stairs from the basement, it's a harrowing experience. They hang on to the railing as their bodies are slammed into either side of the staircase walls.
"What the hell is that now?" Bobby yells.
"I don't know!" Meesh yells back. Another set of tremors rattles the house, and she loses her footing. Sam catches her by the arm and pulls her back upright.
"Hang on, I'm gonna go check!" He steps over the remaining three steps with his long legs and stumbles onto the main floor. The house keeps rolling and shaking, but the noise sounds different up here. It almost sounds like…no. He'd have to be the size of a mountain for that to be true…
And for some reason, Sam already knows it is true. And to be honest, it scares him. A lot. But he makes his way to the front door and has a look outside the house. "Dean?" The laughing earthquake lets up, replaced by a sky-scraping throat clearing. Sam looks up, but instead of any sort of storm clouds, he sees flannel. And he KNOWS the colors of that flannel.
"HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE A CRUMB," the voice of God—well, his God-sized brother—blasts across the salvage yard. Above Sam, the flannel sky creases in areas, and the squares turn clockwise as the entire covering starts to bend and fold. Sam races back inside.
"NOW what?" is all Bobby manages to gripe as Sam whooshes past him and runs up the stairs to the second floor. He heads into the spare room with the window that faces east, and he heaves the window open and leans his head outside.
"Dean? I'm up here now! Do you see me?"
"Getting there," the whisper of God—much easier on the ears—replies. The flannel outside is moving steadily downward. There's a flash of gold as an enormous amulet passes by. Then a field of peach sinks into view, flecked with golden-tan freckles bigger than Sam's hand. The movement closes with a fast green sunset: a starburst of emerald and moss in a circle about four times the size of the wall, eclipsed by a large, black moon in the front and red crackles in a white sky above and below. The moon widens, and Sam just stares, scared and amazed and not believing what he's seeing. He seems to read the same thing from the impossible sight in front of him.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean whispers as softly as he can. It still hits the house as a strong breeze, but it's much better than before. Sam looks up and sees Dean's other eye
HOW can that be his eye?
several yards above the one centered in front of the window. A seeming half mile above THAT, the new hilltop that is Dean's right shoulder shadows the house and everything around it. Sam focuses back on the eye, and the eye stares right back at him. Neither one of them moves or says a thing, not knowing how to keep their cool in this insane scenario. Then Dean's sideways eye narrows.
"You all right?"
Sam nods vigorously. "You're, ah…you're…"
"I know. Kinda overshot it this time."
"Yeah, you're…Jesus, Dean, you're…!" Sam just holds his hands out to indicate Dean—ALL of Planetoid Dean in front of him! The eye crinkles with humor, and Sam's wits finally come snapping back. "What the HELL were you thinking, Dean?"
"That someone had to save you three! Hey wait…" The pupil grows small as the iris blows wide. "You weren't up here the whole time, were you?" Dean whispers harshly. "You should've been in the basement!"
"We were! And YOU should've been there too!"
"But then the house would be gone, and we'd all probably be dead now!"
"And you thought risking your own life in a freaking TORNADO was a better option?"
"Yeah, I did!"
Sam shakes his head at him. "You're an idiot!"
"An idiot that just saved your lives," Dean grins. "Feel free to say thank you at any time, by the way."
Sam's mouth locks up for a moment; there are too many things he wants to yell, and they all want to come out right NOW. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Sam smoothes them out as he tries to calm down. Then he notices the hairs on his arms standing at attention as well.
"Anyone got a giant dryer sheet?" Dean asks. "I'm all staticky out here."
Sam looks at him, looks back at his arm, and the warning alarms go off in his head. "Dean, get out of the yard, NOW."
"What? Why?"
A blinding flash of white light falls over the house, and a house-shaking BOOM follows a split-second later, sending Sam to the floor. He rubs at his eyes as he tries to see past the remaining glare, and he feels his way back to the window.
"Dean?" he calls, but he receives no answer. Sam forces his eyes open and squints at the surroundings. Dean is nowhere to be found.
Sam runs out the door and practically hurls himself down the stairs. Bobby and Meesh squint at the Sam-shaped blur as it runs past them and outside. "Sam?" Bobby calls, already going after him. "What's going on?"
"I think Dean just got struck by lightning," Sam says when they catch up to him.
"How do you know?" Meesh asks, already looking around through the lingering rain.
"There was static everywhere, and with all the scrap metal around here? Dean was like a giant lightning rod. And I mean GIANT—he was bigger than he's ever been! And you know how being huge makes him hurt—what would lightning do to him? Meesh?"
Meesh shakes her head. "I don't know, Sam, I'm sorry. It depends on whether he took a direct hit and whether the electricity went through his bones or passed over his skin. He could have anything from a minor burn to a fracture to a heart…attack…" She trails off when Sam's face goes white, and as he drags his hands through his hair, she rubs his back. "But I'm sure he'll be okay," she adds quickly. Sam nods his thanks as he struggles to keep his panic in check.
"We'll find him, Sam," Bobby promises. "Humongous body like that don't just disappear. He's gotta be around here somewhere." He turns away and yells, "Dean? DEAN, can you hear me? Where are ya?"
They all take his lead and start searching, calling Dean's name over and over. Minutes pass by with no answer, and their calls and searching get more frantic. It's difficult to move anywhere without stepping on something; the ground is covered in debris from the storm. Roof shingles, tree branches, a soccer ball wedged underneath the porch steps, a ladder bent nearly in half in the driveway, and someone's clothesline, complete with scraps of muddied clothes, is draped over the Impala.
"DEAN!" Sam calls, looking inside the car. No Dean. Sam breathes out a shaky sigh as he carefully frees the Impala from its laundry prison. He sets it down on the ground, and something catches his eye. He bends over and picks it up for a closer look.
"It can't be…"
He turns the tiny object this way and that, using his fingers to clear the dirt off, but it's the real deal. Dean's amulet, now smaller than a piece of gravel, sits in the palm of Sam's hand.
And if the amulet is like this, then is Dean…? Sam kneels down and has a look under the car.
"Sam!" Meesh calls. "You find anything?"
"Yeah, but…you're not gonna believe this." Sam stands back up as Meesh and Bobby rush over to him. They stare at him with questions on their faces, so he lets what he's holding in his hands do all the answering for him. Meesh looks down and gasps, while Bobby looks down and rolls his eyes.
"Great," he grunts. "Juuuust great."
Dean rests in Sam's hands, no bigger than a Ken doll. He's deathly pale, covered in bruises and cuts, and out cold. Sam carefully turns him over, and they all wince at the large burn covering Dean's right shoulder and part of his back. Sam tries to lift the shirt away, but the fabric is stuck where charred shirt meets charred skin. Meesh leans in to listen for a heartbeat in the little chest, and Sam and Bobby hold their breath.
"He's alive," she reports. "Get him inside. We need to see to that burn immediately."
Bobby and Meesh take off, and Sam rolls Dean onto his back again and walks slow and careful toward the backdoor of the house. He shakes his head at the situation, the weirdness, the complete lack of luck in their lives…but mostly at Dean himself.
"Always have to be the big damn hero, don't you, Dean," he says, fond but worried sick. Meesh holds the door open for Sam, and he takes his little-big brother inside.
