CHAPTER 3 : Quiet Days & Stormy Nights

PART III – First confessions

Sam realized he must have fallen asleep while he was reading. He didn't remember hearing his brother come in the motel room but he felt Dean pulling the book from his fingers and carefully moving him around so he could rest comfortably under the covers. Something melted in his chest. Dean's touch felt so much like love. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…You always were… such a naïve little bitch". The voice of his nightmares stifled the hope that dared to flourish in his heart as he fell back into slumber.

"Your precious Dean… he hates you, Sammy."

Sam felt a surge of hatred course through him. Hatred toward that thing that was toying with him, trying to break him. That 'nothing'; which owned neither soul nor body, and was trying to rob them of everything they had. But he wasn't going to allow it, not anymore. He looked straight at the Shifter, his voice unwavering as he replied, "No. He doesn't."

"Trust me, he does."

"And why should I believe you?"

The Shifter patted the side of his head with the bloody knife and said,"Because I know him better that anyone in this world. His mind is mine. His thoughts are mine. His feelings are mine."

Sam groaned, "Nothing of Dean is yours."

"Oh you are. And I'm going to prove it to you, to both of you."

The Shapeshifter moved to the side and Sam saw Dean behind him, tied to a chair. The Shifter positioned himself behind his brother. He took off the gag that covered Dean's mouth and pulled him by his short hair, forcing him to bare his throat.

"Any last words for our Sammy?" he asked.

And just as Dean was opening his mouth, the Shapeshifter slit his throat.

"Oops." he said. "Oh well, it couldn't have been that important anyway."

"Nooo! Dean!"

"Sammy, please."

Dean dodged a few blows as he tried shaking his brother out of the darkness.

"Sam, come on."

He weathered the storm and waited for Sam to come back to himself. This had gone on long enough. Screw it, he thought. He was done waiting for the 'right time'. He had to make Sam understand, now. He started speaking as soon as he saw recognition in his brother's eyes. He wanted a chance to get a word in before Sam started shutting him out.

"I would never hurt you, Sammy. You know that…"

Sam breathed harshly and he replied, "Yeah. Yeah I do."

"But that son of a bitch told you different, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't."

Dumbfounded, Dean released the arms he was gripping in his fists.

"Then why do you flip out every time I come close to you? What is this about?"

Sam looked at Dean pleadingly, silently begging him to quit asking.

"Let me help, Sammy."

"I'll be alright."

Dean was determined to get answers. If Sam knew he had nothing to fear from him, there had to be another explanation his attitude.

"Sammy, what did he do to you?"

"I really can't do this right now, Dean. Please..."

"I just want you to be okay."

Sam lowered his eyes, unable to deal with the sadness he saw all over Dean's face. He nodded and he turned away. He heard the click of his night lamp and the familiar noises of Dean settling into bed. He hid his face into his pillow and let out a muffled whimper. He didn't know what to do, what to believe anymore. He wanted to run to Dean for comfort and run as far away from him as he could at the same time. He missed the way things were between them, when he was blissfully oblivious of all the things that tormented him now. Sure they fought before. But no matter how tense things got, he knew they were only a lame joke away from making up. This time, Sam felt things would never be right again.

He clawed at the pillowcase, thinking about the source of all that confusion. It would be so easy to keep blaming the Shapeshifter for the way things were now. But the truth was Sam was the one pushing Dean away, refusing to hear his side, 'slicing his throat' every time he tried to get a word out. But it wasn't because he didn't want to listen; it was because he was terrified that he would find out that Shifter's words were true if he did.

And that's why the dead son of a bitch was still winning. And somewhere, Sam knew that the battles he cowered from would chase him in his sleep, where the Shifter, doubt, always won. He knew he would have to face up to reality sometime soon. He still wasn't fully prepared to find out if Dean truly harbored all the resentment the Shapeshifter had talked about, but he could still tell his brother how he felt about him spite of it all.

After mulling things over for a while, he took a deep breath and silently made his way to Dean's bed. He sat on the floor next the head, listened to his brother breathe for a moment, and called out softly, "Dean?"

Dean groaned and turned to look at him.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice was even huskier when he emerged from sleep, and Sam felt the way it wrapped around his nickname like a caress, enveloping him from head to toe. His breath faltered a little and he asked, "Don't say anything, okay? Just listen. I don't want you to answer. I just need to tell you something. But you have to promise me you won't say anything."

Dean looked at the man sitting on the floor, knees bent. Sam sounded so young and so tired. He just wanted to wrap his arms around him and cradle him but instead he nodded. "Okay."

"Dean, I'm sorry…" Sam stopped to swallow a painful knot in his throat. "I'm sorry that things were so hard for you, when we were kids. I remember sometimes when Dad was late coming back in, and we would run out of food. This one time was worse than usual. When it was time for breakfast, lunch or dinner, you'd pretend you had already eaten and you'd fix my plate. When Dad finally came back, you were sick. He was late because he had been hurt pretty badly in a hunt and…" Tears crept in Sam's voice. "…he had to escape from the hospital to get back to us. He hid it from me, but when I was old enough to put two and two together, I realized you hadn't eaten anything in days."

Sam sniffled. "I didn't know. And I was not the easiest kid, and I know I gave you a hard time. And I complained so much about our life, when you always fought to make it better for me. I didn't know."

"Sam…"

Dean's fingers grazed his neck and Sam closed his eyes. He wanted to turn his head a couple of inches to the left and rest his wet cheek in the curve of Dean's palm but he moved aside. He wasn't going to be able to get through this if Dean started touching him.

"Dean, you promised."

Dean took his hand back and didn't say another word. Sam wiped his cheeks, pushed his hair back and continued.

"I'm sorry I cut you out of my life when I went to Stanford. I was mad at Dad; I was mad at our lives and mad at myself for the things I did before I left. But by doing that I was punishing you too. And for what? Taking care of me? Being good to me?"

With a snort of self-contempt he shrugged. "I guess I was being selfish. And when I came back I should have told you how much I regretted doing it. I should have told you that I knew I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Dean, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I wish, I could say the same about me when you're concerned but I understand why you feel the way you do. God knows you have every right to. You've certainly put up with me longer than Dad ever could. I'm sorry, Dean, for everything. I know you deserved better."

Because he had promised, Dean had to let Sam get up and walk without trying to stop him. He bit his tongue so he wouldn't say, come here baby, it's okay. Don't be afraid. Let me do my job and chase the nightmares away. He didn't know where all of this came from, and he had no idea what Sam meant when he said, "I understand why you feel the way you do". He only knew that he had to press his hand over his heart, because it felt like it was going to burst. And when he fell asleep, he was a little lighter, a little happier.

Part IV: The Last Storm