Thanks for the comments they made me happy. Hope you continue to enjoy this. Just one point to make if any of you have read Onari's fantastic "Remember This" you may find this next scene oddly familiar however I swear on my friend's hamster's life that it is purely, spookily coincidental as I wrote the scene weeks before I read Onari's so just as long as you don't all think I'm a plagiarist and send me mouldy cookies or anything :O Thanks ;)
Chapter 4
The wetness on the ground soaks into his jeans like the wetness from his eyes soaking into Sammy's hair. Maybe if he holds on long enough it will be ok. Maybe if he screams his name loud enough he will wake up. He's aware that he's shaking and rocking back and forth, back and forth but he can't feel his brother's heartbeat anymore and there's no breath escaping his lungs. Maybe if he stays here with him for long enough he will wake up and none of this will have happened. It's dark, so dark but his eyes are closed anyway and there's no sound except for the sounds of someone breathing painfully and hitched like they're crying brokenly but trying hard not to.
Suddenly the dampness under his knees is gone and he feels a soft pair of lips on his and a feeling of melting, drifting away and a surge of warmth rushes through him. He brings his hand up to finger the richness of black silk and runs his hands through it, hypnotised, entranced in beauty, but then he can't breathe. He's choking and gasping for air that never comes and he can't pull away from her, she's inhaling the life right out of him, stealing it, sucking, suffocating devouring his being and then she suddenly releases him and he stares back into cold, blood red eyes, a self assured smile, mocking him, seducing him and she laughs coldly as he falls to his knees, still without breath and then he's alone again and Sammy is lying on the ground in front of him on his back, hands placed neatly on his abdomen He tries to get up to reach him but finds he cannot move and can only watch as Sam is dragged by an unseen force across the ground away from him towards a large tree some twenty feet away and he's sliding up the tree in a horribly unnatural way and the tree suddenly bursts into flames from the top just as Sam's eyes fly open and Dean can see clearly that they're yellow.
His eyes snap open and he takes in great gulps of warm, stale air, gasping like a newborn. His mind is muddled with images and colours and he turns his head to the side blinking them away and sees the deathly still form of his brother slightly illuminated by the lamp on the bedside which someone had forgot to switch off but the skin on his brother's face is grey and his hands are folded neatly on his abdomen and it only takes seconds for Dean to stagger to him.
He wonders if you can wake someone from the dead by giving them an order and doesn't hear his own screams begging his brother to come back to him, he doesn't see Sam's eyes fly open startled and confused and he doesn't realise his fingers are digging painfully into his little brother's arms as he tries to shake the life back into them.
"Sammy! Sam!"
Sam blinks away the sleep and attempts to focus his mind and he's a little scared and disorientated and struggles to remember what the hell is going on and why is brother is yelling at him. He winces in mild pain as his brother shakes him again still screaming his name and he does his best to push up which is difficult considering Dean is practically on top of him.
"Dean..."
His newly awakened voice sounds weak and cracked and it isn't loud enough to get through the haze, but he manages to sit himself up so he's eye to eye with his brother and Dean is just staring at him tears in his eyes but not really seeing him, with a look on his face that Sam wishes he had never seen.
"Sam!"
Another shake and the sound's of grief, desperation and pleading make him sick to his gut and he tries to silence them again because he can't bear to hear it.
He grabs the front of Dean's shirt and tries to get his attention by calling his name louder this time, now the remnants of sleep and confusion have all but dissolved but Dean just stares back repeating his name over and over clutching tightly to Sam's arms and he swears that Dean will draw blood soon if he doesn't release them but he doesn't know what to do to reach him. Gritting his teeth, wary of causing harm he prises Deans fingers out of his own flesh, regaining the use of his arms and considers striking him, but instead takes the wrists into one hand and pulls him close with the other, trapping Dean's hands between them, talking softly to him hoping that he will hear him soon and come out of the nightmare that he's trapped in.
"I'm here Dean I'm here. It's ok man I've got you, I've got you."
Dean begins to shake but the screams have diminished to hoarse cries now, his voice frail and broken.
"Sammy... Sam..."
"I'm here ok. I'm right here." Sam forces back his own tears even though hearing his brother sound so vulnerable, feeling his agony as if it were his own is breaking his heart and he wishes he had never had to see it or hear it but it's too late now he's seen too much and right now he doesn't think he'll ever get over it.
"Sam..."
"Yeah that's right I'm here ok. Just breathe man, you're ok. I'm here."
He forces himself to be strong, for Dean and relaxes only slightly when he feels his brother calm a little so loosens his hold allowing Dean to free his trapped arms and his heart almost shatters when he feels Dean's hands suddenly whip around and cling to the back of his t-shirt and he hears Dean whisper the childish nickname name once more before feeling him sink his face into his hair.
He holds his brother trying his best not to shake, or cry or throw up, the image of Dean's grief stricken face imprinted behind his eyes and suddenly he understands everything. He understands why Dean is different these days. He understands why the light has disappeared from his brother's once fiery green eyes and why now, where he once saw fierce determination and a refusal to yield he sees only defeat and fear. Not fear of death but fear of being left behind, left alone to deal with the guilt of being the only surviving member of a family doomed long ago. A man could only take so much and now he understands exactly how much Dean can actually take and he can't believe he had been so naive, so self centred to think that his brother, his protector could actually kill him just because he asked him to, could watch him die and get up and walk away, could actually continue his path not looking back, could actually choose not to make the horrifying decision which would save one of them and doom the other.
He had tried to imagine what Dean had been through but it had been hard. To imagine that he would have to imagine the reverse. The reverse being Sam rocking his big brother while his life slipped away from him unable to change the seconds when he had seen a stranger sever his only family's spinal chord and tearing them both in two.
How could he ever imagine that - the truth was he couldn't and he refused to and so he had selfishly pushed the thought out of his mind, unable to even think about the damage that would have been done to his soul. But that had meant he couldn't understand. He could never understand why Dean had done what he had condemned others for, what he had been so hurt and angry with their father for because how could he?
Until now.
"You shouldn't have done that. How could you do that?"
But now he knows the answer. How could he not?
He understands it all now but he just wishes he was ignorant to the horror of it because now he doesn't have to imagine how lost Dean must have been when he had left him, he can feel it with every shudder and cry his brother gives and he knows and he feels it as if he had lived it himself and he knows without question that he would have done the same.
He holds on a little tighter and closes his eyes trying to soothe his devastated older sibling back into sleep but what happens is something else.
It begins with a shudder and then he feels him tense, his breathing becomes rapid and desperate and then with a shove he's violently pushed away, falling back against the head board only able to watch as Dean staggers out of the room.
Sam runs after him, the bathroom door almost hitting him in the face when Dean slams it shut behind him. The retches start before Sam makes it to his side but he kneels next to him, a hand rubbing his back, trying to provide comfort and encouraging the poison to come forward and out of his brother.
He watches, tears burning his eyes as Dean empties his stomach, the cramps doubling him up painfully. The sound of vomit hitting water, and groans and gasps of discomfort fill the bathroom and Sam tries to block it out, tries not to gag as the acrid stench assaults his senses. After every wrenching heave Dean hangs limp his hands resting on the back of the toilet, breathing heavily, tears streaming down is ashen cheeks and every time Sam thinks it's over until another comes and the torture begins again as more fluid and partially digested matter forces it's way out of Dean's stomach. The vomit keeps pouring out of him and it splashes around the toilet bowl, and the seat and some finds it's way on to the floor and on his shirt and the smell becomes unbearable and increases the nausea bringing about another round.
And another round and then another.
The vomit ceases it's violent stream long before the retching does and Sam watches helpless as Dean is wracked with painful dry heaves, groaning as the muscles in his stomach contract, spitting bile and saliva from his mouth and breathing out hard, hitched sobs as if he is losing his soul little by little. He shudders again and then cries out as another dry heave comes and Sam can't make it stop he can only sit there and watch. He finds a cloth on the sink and soaks it with cold water before bringing it to his brother's face allowing the cold to soothe and calm the burning, trembling skin.
Time eventually eases Dean's suffering and the cramps slow and finally come to a stop leaving Dean exhausted and empty kneeling over the toilet with his head lowered, shaking and shivering and his breath gasping and uneven and Sam wipes his face and neck again after rinsing out the sweat and vomit in the sink and then fills a cup with water before lifting it for Dean to take, but his hands are shaking so Sam helps him and he takes a mouthful, rinses, then spits out the remainder of the filth left in his mouth before taking another gulp. He swallows it down greedily, letting the water soothe the dry, acidic, burn in his throat hoping it will cleanse him and rid him of the rot inside.
He's still shaking and obviously fighting back tears and sobs but Sam pretends not to notice and helps him to his feet leading him back to his bed.
"Come on dude let's get you outta hear. Man you stunk the place out, do you have any of your organs left in there?"
Sam's attempt at levity is lost on Dean as he sits heavily on his bed and then Sam tries to get him to lie down but he resists the idea apparently abhorrent to him.
"No! I can't."
His voice is so raspy it makes him sound like a child begging for more time to stay up with his father and Sam helps him to sit up on the edge of the bed his hand resting on the middle of his back ready to catch him should he fall.
"It's ok man. You don't have to."
Dean shudders and leans forward every muscle still trembling, shaken, traumatised, and he rests his elbows on his knees, hands hiding his face.
Sam moves off the bed and crouches in front of him taking his shoulders feeling the tremors and the pain and the terror beneath his hands and they stay like that for a time Sam not letting go. The shudders eventually ease and Sam takes Dean's wrists, gently removing his hands from his face and Dean lets him but doesn't look up and he wishes Sam had waited a little longer until he'd gained some sort of control, but right now he has no control and nothing to stop the grief from returning and he feels the undeniable feeling of something warm and wet trickling down his face and then what he knows as his brother's soft cool hand gripping his cheek firmly, brushing away the moisture with his thumb and he doesn't mean to but he can't help but flinch when he feels it.
His chest is tight and he suddenly finds it difficult to swallow and he feels his chin trembling involuntarily so he clenches his jaw hoping it will reverse what he knows is coming and he realises it's pointless and thinks about locking himself alone in the bathroom until it all ends but just as he's about to bolt for the door he finds himself being pulled into a pair of familiar, strong arms and he hates himself when his own arms betray the order from his brain to push them away and instead wrap themselves tightly around his baby brother's back and he presses his face into the crook of Sam's neck in a futile attempt to smother the awful sobs that are about to return.
Sam reaches up and envelops his brother ignoring the pain in his back this time and allowing Dean to hold on, instead of like before when he had pushed him away ignorant to the sacrifice he had just made and unknowing of how much Dean needed to hold him and be held back. He closes his eyes and sinks his fingers into the sweat soaked hair whispering softly so the sound of unshed tears in his voice cannot be heard.
"I'm sorry man, I'm so sorry. I didn't know... I didn't know."
They hold on to each other tightly and Sam forces himself to listen to the terrible sounds escaping his brother's soul allowing them to tear through him until they eventually grow quiet and Dean falls limp and exhausted in Sam's arms.
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It was late afternoon when they arrived outside Bobby's front door and Dean just sat there as if waiting a few more minutes would help. Sam sat there too waiting as he always did and Dean couldn't believe how fucking scared he felt. He noticed that his hands were shaking and folded them in his lap so that Sam wouldn't notice and there was that feeling again like his insides were gonna come pouring out of him. And then Sam put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"It'll be okay man. I'm right here ok."
And then Dean had looked right at him and tried to scowl as if to say "Dude, get off me I'm fine." But he must not have pulled it off too well because Sam had given him that look he always gave him when he didn't know what the hell to say so he figured he must look pretty fucking miserable right now. He turned away and looked back out through the windshield, breathed in and then out then turned back to his little brother.
"So we just gonna sit here all day then or what?"
Sam hadn't looked amused or impressed and shrugged wincing a little before looking away and then they had both gotten out of the car simultaneously, closing both their doors at precisely the same moment like two halves of a mirror image.
The walk to the front door seemed longer than usual and Dean's feet felt heavy, weighing him down more and more with every step as if some fun loving dick had stuck lead to the soles of his boots just for the sheer hell of it; but Sam was at his side matching his pace almost as if their ankles were tied together like in those dumb three legged races that kids did for fun and he wondered if someone had stuck lead to Sam's shoes too. Or maybe they were just tied together after all. Maybe Sam couldn't walk faster because he was tethered to Dean and had no choice. Maybe Sam's feet were heavy because Dean's were and were dragging him down, holding him back and he wondered for a micro second what it would take for Sam to break free.
They were only a few feet from the door when that sickening feeling in his gut arrived and his throat went dry and that was the moment he realised that he wouldn't be able to hide one thing from Bobby - not one fucking thing.
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"You can't blame yourself Bobby; you're not the boy's father."
Bobby pours himself another glass of whiskey then remembering his manners slides the tumbler across to the woman sat across from him at the small table before getting his own.
"You think I don't know that?"
He drains the glass in one just as before and ignores the raised disapproving eyebrow that Ellen shoots him.
He closes his eyes and takes in a shaky breath trying to blot out the sounds and the smell that his mind couldn't forget. He glances at the clock noting the time and thinks what business do they have being up at this hour but then what business do they have sleeping in these times that are now upon them. Besides how the hell are you supposed to sleep when in the next room you can hear what is clearly someone losing their lunch not to mention their soul.
He hadn't got up until he'd heard the soft crying sounds come to an end. He'd not investigated, just cleaned up the mess in the bathroom and left them alone. Sam was there, he knew and he had no place to interfere, but sometimes he felt like he should just damn well interfere and have done with it.
"You can't fix him and you shouldn't have to."
Ellen takes a sip and rolls her eyes as Bobby downs yet another glass in one and then glares at the woman daring her to rebuke him.
"What?!"
Ellen shakes her head.
"You weren't there Ellen. You didn't see - see him like that. You didn't see what it was like."
Ellen looks away her eyes shining a little.
"No. No I didn't. But you still can't change anything."
She leans forward and puts a hand on his arm but for some reason he can't look at her.
"You couldn't protect them. It wasn't your fault. They're not yours."
"Yeah, well maybe it's time things changed. I've never seen him so lost Ellen. It was like he really believed he had no one. Who's fault is that Ellen, that he thinks he's all alone?"
"It's no ones fault Bobby. It sure as hell aint yours."
"I gave him hell you know. It was just before you showed up. I yelled at him, accused him of being just like his dad."
Ellen fixes her gaze on the man in front of her hand gripping the glass, knuckles white.
"Wanna know what he said?"
Bobby stares right back into her eyes, sees tears there, sees fear.
"He said that that was the point. His dad brought him back and he wasn't even supposed to be here and that this way maybe his life could mean something."
The two sets of eyes don't falter and Ellen's flicker, glistening in the lamp light until she blinks, looks the other way and knocks back her drink.
"He told me to take a shot. And I wanted to so bad I gotta tell y'. But how could I? He just looked at me like this lost little kid and begged me not to tell Sam. And now he knows anyway and it's all completely screwed. It's too late for both of 'em. I should have straightened that kid out a long time ago. The kid has no one to look to and I should have been there."
"You were Bobby and you still are. Besides he still has Sam."
"Sam's just a kid. Besides, it's not his fault, but he's half the problem. If it wasn't for the fact that Dean thinks his only purpose, his only reason for living is to protect Sam, then maybe none of this would have happened."
Ellen looks at her glass swirling the brown liquid around.
"You'd rather Sam was dead?"
"I didn't say that. You know how I feel about both of those boys but this - it's wrong Ellen. It's wrong and no good will come of it. I mean what's it gonna do to Sam when he realises he can't save his brother?"
"To be honest with you Bobby, I'd rather not think about that."
"You know when John was alive, I used to sit back and watch the way he spoke to Dean. Always balling him out, always quick to point out the boy's faults. Not once did I ever hear him say 'You did good' or 'I'm proud of you.' With Sammy it was different. The kid had a mouth on him that even John didn't know what to do with. He never bought into it, always the little rebel that one."
He chuckles slightly.
"But Dean. He was like a sponge. Took it all in. All of it. And he believed everything that man told him and hung on every word. He was just a kid how the hell was he supposed to read between the lines and realise he wasn't just a damn body guard to his little brother. But John never said it, never told him, just assumed Dean knew. I let that happen and I could have stopped it. But I didn't, I just sat back...and watched. And now, well it's too late aint it?"
Ellen glared at him then.
"Do you really think John would've listened to you? Do you honestly think it would've made a difference if you'd stood up to him and said 'hey John about you tell your son how great he is from time to time?' the man would have either shot you or punched you for even daring to tell him how to raise his boys."
"You make him sound like a complete asshole."
"He was. At times."
"It wasn't easy for him. He did the best he could and in a whole lot o' ways they both turned out pretty damn well considering. But John...he couldn't see past his damn obsession. But I could. I could have tried. I was his friend, it was my job to haul him up straight when he messed up. And I didn't - I failed him Ellen. And I failed Dean."
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Bobby opened the door and greeted them with that usual grin of his - Dean could never figure out how he always managed to look pleased to see them but he always did and he reckoned that the old man really should get out more.
Dean managed to avoid eye contact which was no easy thing considering he could feel Bobby's glare on him as soon as they stepped over the threshold.
Sam exchanged the expected pleasantries with the veteran hunter but Dean wasn't really in the mood for pleasantries so said nothing and he could still feel Bobby glowering at him. He took their coats and motioned for them to take a seat on his old worn couch which they did and Sam smiled as Bobby took a seat opposite after asking them if he could get them a drink.
"No we're fine thanks Bobby."
Dean looked at him then in an attempt to let him know that actually he could murder a glass of whiskey but Sam just looked back and shrugged and then Dean remained silent, felt those eyes on him again and he guessed that he had not done a great job of hiding the shit in his head from Bobby considering how he was looking at him. Was he really that transparent? Was it that obvious that his brain was screaming at him and his soul was dying one second at a time?
"So what brings the two of you here?"
Dean looked up at him briefly and realised the glare had gone as Bobby glanced at the two of them in turn but he still looked suspicious as if he knew that this was no ordinary social call.
"What can't we just drop in on an old friend..?"
Dean's voice trailed off when the eyes snapped back to him, once again making him nervous.
"Sure you can, Dean, anytime. You know that. But somethin' tells me that this isn't one of those times."
Dean dropped his eyes to the floor and noticed Sam squirming a little so he scratched the back of his neck and looked out of the window hoping that this moment would soon pass and wondering how the hell he knew. How did he do that? He wasn't a bad liar in fact he was a damn good one but somehow his act never seem to work on the old hunter. He didn't like it one bit and it sucked to the amount of a thousand decibels.
"So. What. Happened?"
Bobby's tone wasn't the kind normally used to enquire about why you had a black eye or why your car was looking a bit worse for wear because you had just reversed it into a block of flats, or why your hair was now a puke shade of green and in dread locks it was the sort of question that said what the hell have you been doing now and why didn't you call me sooner and so help me you better give me a straight answer or you'll be damn sorry you ever messed with me.
It was also the sort of tone that made it very difficult to respond to without showing any hint of emotional vulnerability which he wasn't too good at - ever - so he didn't. Respond that is. He knew it was cowardly and that Sam would step in but he couldn't he just couldn't. And then of course Sammy did step in right on cue. As predicted.
"It's not good Bobby, but we figured you had a right to know."
Bobby frowned.
"A right to know what?"
Dean thought that the old man looked worried. Like different worried, not worried like 'what have you been up to now?' worried but worried as in 'you're not about to tell me that one of you is gay are you?' worried or worse 'you're both gay?' worried. It amused him a little. The sheer look of horrified panic on Bobby's face and he was tempted to go with it, but only for a second but Sam being Sam completely missed the opportunity.
"It's this case we were working on. It's... well we found something out... something...well...about..."
"Sam."
He wasn't sure what made him interrupt his little brother but maybe it was an attack of conscience but something seemed to remind him that he was the big brother and he should be the one to give Bobby the news.
Sam looked at him sympathetically. That puppy dog expression he used when he was trying to persuade Dean into letting him give him a hug or something and Dean had looked back at him and given him a bit of a smile just to let him know that it was ok. This was his job.
"Something about what?"
He turned back to Bobby and looked him square in the eyes and Bobby was glaring again and he was a little disappointed not to see relief there. Relief that his old friend's two sons weren't about to come 'out' to him but he shrugged it off and told himself to quit stalling and get on with it.
"Something about Dad."
Bobby just stared at him and Dean didn't falter he just held his gaze and allowed Bobby to stare right into his eyes, into his fucking soul and he wanted to yell at the old man and say 'well here it is then, you wanna know, take a good look!'
Then Bobby blinked and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably before turning to Sam and he knew it was coming but he swore his stomach dropped about three foot when Bobby casually asked Sam if he would like to take their stuff to the room they usually stayed in with what he supposed was a knowing look. Damn those two and their fucking knowing looks and he wondered why it was always Sam who got the knowing looks and not him. Didn't he deserve a knowing look from time to time? Hadn't he earned at least one knowing look in his life? He watched not particularly happy as Sam walked away leaving him alone with Bobby and thought to himself how did it always fucking end up like this.
Dean stared at the carpet and Bobby stared at Dean and it seemed like hell would freeze over before one of them would speak and then Dean looked up and he guessed that he must look a little sad because Bobby winced slightly almost unnoticeable and Dean tried to smile but only one side of his mouth seemed to work and that sick feeling was back again.
"Dean. What happened?"
Dean chuckled, looking at his feet again, he wasn't sure why because it was a little inappropriate but it just came out and he just sat there his hands fidgeting and he looked up twice before he finally managed to make eye contact.
"This job we were on. People dyin' unexplained deaths. Talkin' about being chased by dogs. Wild, nasty dogs."
"You saying you hunted a Black Dog?"
Dean chuckled again.
"Now you see that's what we thought. Turns out it was more like a Hell Dog. Or rather Hell Hound."
Bobby frowned and Dean could tell he didn't like where this was going. He got that he did, he hadn't liked where it was going either.
"Turns out people were doing these deals. With a demon. I'm sure you've heard of it. You have to bury a whole bunch of stuff including your photo at a crossroads and then she comes and offers you anything and I mean anything you like..."
"In exchange for your soul."
And there it was. If that wasn't a knowing look then he would eat his boots. Bobby locked eyes with him and told him without words that he understood, that he got it.
"I think they got ten years. Ten years of happiness before... I guess it doesn't matter if it's ten years or ten minutes the end result's still the same..."
Dean watched Bobby scrub a hand across his face as the reality hit him and suddenly felt sickened when he realised how hard this must be for his dad's old friend and shit what if he blamed him. He suddenly found that he couldn't look at the older man anymore and kept his eyes on his hands picking at the skin on his thumb. He let out a shaky breath and could practically feel Bobby's eyes boring into him and there was that unbelievably powerful urge to bolt again.
"I'm...I'm sorry Bobby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"What the hell you gotta be sorry about."
Dean stood up walking away and refused to answer such a fucking stupid question.
"Dean, I asked you..."
"You know why."
Dean spun back round to face him then, suddenly very pissed but he doubted that the anger could hide the tears in his eyes. Bobby was standing now in front of him and apparently not backing down.
"He was your friend and now he's in hell. Because of me."
"You can't know that..."
"I KNOW!"
Bobby held up his hands and took a step closer.
"Look Dean. We've been here before. None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it."
Dean looked at the floor unable to answer and of course that wasn't good enough for the old man.
"Dean?"
It was a warning and a question rolled into one but he still couldn't answer so he just looked up a little his eyes flickering from side to side and Bobby took another step closer taking a fistful of his shirt causing him to flinch.
"Dean."
Now why did he have to do that? Why couldn't he just leave well alone instead of inviting these uncomfortable situations into their lives and forcing recognition which never did anyone any good? Dean managed to look up and they stared at each other for a while until Dean knocked his hand away and turned for the door, something that he was becoming an expert at these days unfortunately he really had to work on actually going through the door without being faced with the indignity of being dragged back in again and just for a change he didn't make it very far before Bobby grabbed his arm spinning him back round to face him and just for a change he discovered that his eyes were once again on the verge of turning a perfectly ok day into yet another angst fest but just because he could he kept them wide so that the tears wouldn't spill and let everyone know what a fucking loser he was.
Bobby had hold of both his arms now and he just stared at the floor because there was nowhere else to look and he started to weigh up just how much effort it would take to shrug Bobby's iron grip off him a second time but before he could act on it he found himself being pulled into the older hunter's arms and he thought shit how fucking miserable must he look for Bobby to risk getting a smack in the jaw. He instinctively stiffened but wasn't too surprised to find that he hadn't the strength to pull away and then he felt his body shaking slightly and not just his hands and a feeling rising from his stomach into his chest and throat and he just couldn't hold it down and he wished he could but he just wasn't strong enough and his eyes were really burning and there were drops of water trickling down his cheeks, so he ducked his head, pressing his face - hiding it from no one in particular - into Bobby's shoulder and before he knew it he was clinging to the older man like a little kid and he could hear the sounds of muffled, gasping sobs and he realised that they were his.
He felt so fucking pathetic and ashamed right then and wished he could just disappear and the more Bobby rocked him the harder he cried and he could hear above his own cries Bobby whispering to him that he was ok and that he'd got him which made him cry even harder and hate himself even more, but what he hated himself for most was the fact that just for a second, one second, he wished that Bobby was his father not John Winchester because then his father would still be alive and with him and able to hold him when he couldn't let anyone else near him and because he wouldn't have to carry this grief and this debilitating guilt which was destroying him day by day.
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Sam is dozing lightly his sleeping brother lying next to him, on his side, his back to him. Sam had managed to lie him down when the tears had given way to sleep but had decided this wasn't the time to leave him or give him space so had remained by his side, propped up against the bed head just in case. Just in case. He had watched him sleep and tried to pretend they were normal. A normal family who were just having a bad day and had just recovered from a bad fight which was about nothing important anyway. But normal people generally don't have nightmares that reduce them to throwing up or falling apart or crying themselves to sleep in their baby brother's arms so it had been hard and so he isn't that surprised when he is woken form his light slumber with a start when Dean jerks and kicks him in the shin before rolling on to his back.
Sam sits up blinking away the tiredness and turns to look down into terrified orbs of pale green, framed by too pale skin, shiny with a sheen of cold sweat. He gasps for air his heart racing and Sam places a hand on his arm trying to draw him back to reality and away from the remains of the nightmare but then thinks bitterly that this reality isn't that much better.
"Hey."
He fixes his eyes on his brother's and is relieved to see recognition there before Dean looks away and uses Sam's arm to pull himself up. He slides his legs off the bed and sits on the edge staring straight ahead waiting for his breathing to return to normal and Sam takes a seat at his side, also waiting.
"I'm sorry."
Sam frowns and turns to look at Dean whose hands have now dropped to his lap his head lowered, face hidden from view.
"What? Dean what for?"
"I didn't expect you to figure it all out. I thought I could keep it from you, protect you. I didn't want you to go though all this. I'm sorry, Sam. You have to believe..."
"Dean stop okay? You don't get to be sorry alright. You've nothing to be sorry for, me on the other hand..."
"Sam, don't."
So Sam doesn't and instead sighs.
"I didn't mean it you know?"
Dean looks at him quizzical.
"What I said - I was full of crap, man. I would have done the same. There's no way I couldn't. And yeah maybe it would have been stupid or selfish and maybe you'd hate me for it but I know that there's no way I could have carried on."
Dean smiles a little but shakes his head.
"I know I treated you like crap and I was a complete asshole..."
"Sam, I said don't okay?"
"Why?"
"I just...I don't wanna do this. I don't..."
"You deserve better Dean. I sure as hell don't deserve you."
"Sam, enough, okay?"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no, Dean. It's not okay. You give up everything for me, put yourself through hell, literally and I treat you like garbage. I ripped you to pieces and not one word of it was true."
"Sam...You were right to be pissed...You weren't supposed to find out, but you did and that's my fault."
"Yeah everything's always your fault isn't it Dean. I mean you're to blame for fucking everything!"
Dean looks away and it pisses Sam off even more.
"Don't do that, you need to hear this man cos I've just about had enough."
He crouches in front of his brother again taking him by the shoulders, forcing eye contact.
"Look. I know you think that I don't need you and that I would do just fine without you, but you're wrong."
Dean looks away again and Sam gives him a little shake.
"Listen to me, Dean. I wouldn't last five minutes without you and you know what? I wouldn't want to."
Dean gives him just the hint of a smile but doesn't look up.
"And I know what you're thinking, but that's not what I mean. I'm not talking about you savin' my ass all the time like you do, I'm talkin' about like, the fact that I need you cos your my brother and I kinda like having you around and...well there are days when you don't completely piss me off and those dumb ass jokes you make somehow make me feel better about this messed up life of ours and then some days I just can't believe how lucky I am to have you and it kinda makes up for the fact that our lives are weird and messed up and I think that I wouldn't change one damn thing and if anything happened to you... I'd just... I dunno man I'd just lose it. That'd be it for me. So... I guess we're not all that different after all huh?"
His voice breaks a little and he hopes Dean understands but he just looks up eyes empty and weary.
"You done?"
Sam shrugs and smiles sadly.
"No not really, But I have no idea what to say to you anyway so..."
Sam gets up and sits back on the bed next to his brother.
"You don't have to say anything Sammy."
"Don't I? Isn't there something that I should be doing or saying to make everything better? I mean this can't be it right. I have no idea what we're gonna do Dean and I have no idea what to do with all this. It's... it's too much...it's too hard..."
He looks away as his voice falters, the tears returning but not before he sees Dean wince in sympathy.
"Listen, Sam. It's okay. I mean I should have died like a hundred times already. The chances I've had to put things right...and I never did...It's like this is how it should be - after everything - I mean I'm no saint Sam...there's been so much shit - I guess it's all finally caught up with me. It's really nothing more than I deserve. I guess I'm finally getting what I've had coming for way too long."
He stands to look out of the window oblivious to how his words have retrieved the anger in Sam's messed up head and Sam can see that Dean really didn't see it coming when he grabs him, spins him around and shoves him hard against the wall.
"Don't you say that, don't you ever say that... how can you...?"
"Because it's true Sam! I mean come on. I'm a liar and a killer and I've cheated death so many times it's getting weird. I've killed more than anyone can imagine and not all of them deserved it either. I failed to protect the only family I have left and I sold my soul to hell, I mean does it get any worse Sam? If anyone had it coming then it's me, you have to admit that."
Sam bristles with fury and shoves Dean harder into the wall before drawing back his fist and Dean just stares back at him eyes wide and full, waiting for the blow he obviously thinks he deserves and several seconds pass until Sam blinks, drops his fist and lets go of his brother. He stares at him, his eyes flickering and then steps back ducking his head before he turns away so that Dean won't see the tears fall.
"I'm not gonna let her have you Dean. You may have given in but I haven't. I'm gonna fight this, I swear I'm gonna fight this right until the last second."
"You can't fight destiny, Sam."
Sam shakes his head wiping away his tears wondering when it was exactly that his brother decided he was so worthless and why he hadn't noticed.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I should have done more. I should have tried harder."
But Dean doesn't understand.
"Get some sleep Sammy."
And Sam nods accepting that it is too late to fix his brother now. Far too late.
TBC