CHAPTER 6
The awkward sounds of a sitcom laugh track sounded as Kelsey Grammar let a clever one-liner fly. The small TV's volume was low, but loud enough that the joke was heard and the fake laughs were joined by real ones; laughs that were much needed and had been sorely missed for a very long time.
Dean sat with one leg bent on the bed, the other resting on the carpeted floor. He leaned comfortably against the head board, a bag of peanut M&M's in hand, and chuckled. He cast a glance to his left and smiled even wider when he saw Sam's tired but sincerely happy grin as he lay propped on a mountain of pillows, eyes still on the TV screen. Dean faced forward again, allowing himself to forget that this was a totally cheesy moment, just this once. Sam wasn't in pain, Dean had candy, and this show was actually funny.
Right then, he was content.
They'd come a long way from the forest, a good two hours or so. Dean had practically had to carry Sam out of the cabin; the younger brother's muscles were completely worn out. Yet even in his weakness and exhaustion, Sam hadn't been able to stop smiling.
It had taken Dean a lot longer. He'd had to tell himself repeatedly that Sam wasn't going to start screaming again or stop breathing again. He'd had to force himself to stop flinching every time Sam made a sound. He'd had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if Sam was sure he wasn't hurting.
But then, after they gotten to the car, driven about eighty miles, and made it to a decent motel with cable and Tivo, Dean was able to relax some. He was fairly certain that Sam was actually pretty sore; he'd taken a pretty heavy beating, what with his bruised body, welted wrists, sliced arms, and other various injuries, but Sam didn't seem to notice any of them, and Dean guessed that in comparison to what he'd been through, any amount of bruises was like nothing. The younger Winchester couldn't actually get up on his own, but he just looked so happy.
After spending three non-cursed days in the motel, Sam had stopped jumping at small noises, no longer needed aid to make it to the restroom, and was once again eating like a normal human being. His euphoria at painlessness hadn't quite faded, and he still smiled a lot more than was necessary, but Dean didn't mind in the slightest. He figured they would probably take off in a day or so, and if Sam was gonna be all smiley and optimistic for a while, then that was fine by him. Dean decided they would head out of the stupid, dangerous, and majorly overrated state of Colorado the next morning.
Or at least they would have, if it hadn't been for a certain call from a certain someone.
Dean had been in the shower, and so it was Sam who had picked up the phone when it rang, the sounds of Queensryche being emitted as the cell's ringtone. He'd had to cross the room to reach it, and he was still a little slow, so it was on the fourth ring by the time he had flipped it open and seen the caller I.D.
"Hey, Bobby."
"Sam! How're you doing, you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure? I mean really?"
"Yeah, why?" Sam titled his head curiously. Bobby seemed to hesitate before he went on.
"Well, I...I know what it's like, what happened to you. It's an awful experience, and I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm glad you're okay."
"Yeah...yeah," Sam looked at the floor, frowning a bit. He gave a shrug, even though he knew Bobby couldn't see him, "it was - hard, ya know? I didn't...I honestly didn't think I was gonna make it...didn't want to." They were both quiet for a moment, and Sam had to gather himself away from the too vivid memories that were stirring before he spoke again.
"So what were you calling about? You got a hunt for us or something?" Sam waited for Bobby to answer, but all he got was quiet, "Bobby?" The man answered this time, but his tone seemed slightly off, like he was nervous about something.
"Is Dean around?"
"He's in the shower, why?" Silence again, "Bobby, what?" Sam listened, worried now, and he heard the sound of Bobby sighing heavily through the earpiece before he answered. He voice was almost muffled a for a moment, and Sam imagined that he was pulling a hand over his face.
"I hate to do this to you Sam, I do, but there's really no way around it." Sam sat slowly onto the edge of the bed, eyes alert, his posture tense. He gripped the phone a little tighter and stilled himself for whatever he was about to hear, because from the sound of Bobby's tight voice it was obviously not going to be pleasant.
"Tell me," he demanded in a quiet voice. So Bobby told him.
Dean pulled the scratchy towel across his shoulders, over his face, and through his hair. He pulled on his jeans, and cinched his belt, humming all the while.
He paused, realizing he was humming the theme song to Welcome Back Kotter.
"Alright, that's enough syndicated programming for you, my friend," he muttered to himself, grabbing his t-shirt and stepping out of the foggy restroom.
Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing away from Dean, looking down at something in his hands. Dean strolled over to his bed, at ease.
"So whaddaya say, Sammy, you ready put this sucky state in the rear view?" Dean was in the act of pulling his shirt over his head when he'd spoken, and with his face still searching for the right hole to exit out of, he didn't see Sam's response; actually, he didn't see that Sam made no response at all.
"Sam?"
"Bobby called."
"Yeah? What did he say?" Dean pulled the shirt down and smoothed it out. He turned to glance at his brother and stopped in the middle of reaching for his boots. Something about Sam's stillness seemed…off.
"Everything okay?" Dean asked, striding around the bead to see Sam's face. Sam didn't meet his eyes.
"We have to go back," Sam said flatly. Dean blinked.
"Go back where?"
"Back to the forest. Back to finish the hunt." The bottom of Dean's stomach dropped out.
"No."
"Dean-"
"No way."
"That witch is still alive, she can still hurt people-"
"I said no."
"But Bobby thinks-"
"Screw what Bobby thinks! Screw the hunt! Screw the whole state of Colorado!" Dean yelled, and he hated how he sounded, but he couldn't help it, he was not going to let this happen, "That thing almost killed you, Sam! It put you through a living hell-"
"Yeah, I remember that part, thanks," Sam said quietly, but he might as well have screamed it, because Dean shut right up, feeling like a major jerk. Sam kept talking, "Dean, I know it's a lot to ask, but Bobby had to and he's right. Another hiker's gone missing. We're the closest ones, we know everything we need to, we have the stuff we need to kill it. We have to go back."
"Sam, I don't want you anywhere near-"
"You think I want to be?" Sam snapped, "You think I want to face that again? You think it doesn't scare me to death? Because it does, Dean," Sam took a step toward him, and Dean had to consciously work to keep himself from stepping away, he was so startled to see Sam looking so fierce, "I'm terrified! I want to get as far away as possible! But I'm not gonna sit here like a coward and let other people die or worse because I didn't do myfriggin' job and kill this thing! We are going back and we're gonna take that thing down and you know what," Sam poked a finger at Dean's chest, "don't you tell me what it put me through! Don't talk like you know, because you have absolutely no idea!" Dean couldn't speak, all he could do was stare while Sam stood huffing and glaring at him. Sam sighed and wiped a hand over his face, stepping away before he spoke, his voice back to a normal volume, "We have to do this, Dean. I need to do this."
Dean's first attempt at a response came out soundless. He swallowed and tried again, the bottom of his stomach back but feeling like lead.
"Okay," he said quietly, looking grimfaced at his younger brother, "we'll go back." They stood there for a minute or so, Dean looking a bit ashamed as he gathered himself and Sam looking a bit ashamed at his outburst.
They packed their bags and checked out of the room. Sam took the keys, and Dean didn't protest.
The open road and setting sun bade the Impala forward as the brothers sped toward a danger neither of them wanted to face.