So here's the next chapter. Thanks for all the comments and reviews, it really thrilled me how strongly you all responded to this story. And sorry for the delay, but real life right now leaves me barely any time to write.
This is the last chapter, with one epilogue still coming up.
Enjoy!
Chapter 7
If there was a certain logic to the order in which his single body parts slid back under his control, it was one Dean didn't understand.
It didn't help that he was so tired it bordered on exhaustion, despite the fact that he hadn't done anything for the past day but lay around and stare ahead. But he was exhausted, and now that the witch's spell was broken, it seemed that his body was giving in to what it had been denied since the attack – sleep, and rest.
Dean couldn't help falling asleep, even if he wanted to stay awake. But his body had other ideas, and Dean kept drifting off, only to find that upon waking up his body had slid further under his command.
It was still slow going, but there was progress. Even if it wasn't always the best idea to immediately try out every rediscovered skill.
Blinking had been the first ability he had consciously noticed.
And then his breathing had slid further under his command. At first he had only been able to notice it, but soon Dean realized that he could actually control his breathing. Which meant that he could also hold his breath if he only put his mind to it.
Which, in hindsight, had been a bad idea. Dean was ready and willing to admit that.
But in his defense, Sam had seemed engrossed in whatever it was he had been doing on his laptop over by the table. How was Dean supposed to have known that something as simple as holding his breath was going to send his brother into a panicked fit?
Right, he couldn't have known.
Dean had only tried whether he could really hold his breath. He certainly hadn't anticipated that it would lead to Sam dropping everything and crossing the distance to the bed in less than a second, wide-eyed and panicked, slapping Dean's cheeks and frantically asking him what was wrong.
Dean remembered the CPR-experience only too well, and he wasn't particularly keen on having a repeat performance of that. Stunned by the degree of Sam's reaction, Dean had quickly released the breath again, making an effort to make his following breaths sound as deep and regular as possible.
The pure panic on Sam's face had startled him, and the look of plain and unhidden relief that replaced it once Dean started breathing again made a small guilty knot form in Dean's stomach. He hadn't meant to scare Sam like that, it had been the farthest thing on his mind. He simply wouldn't have thought that Sam was this attuned to the sound of his breathing.
But obviously, Sam was listening closely to all the sounds coming from Dean while he was lying there, unable to communicate. So that little exercise in holding his breath had been a total bust. Well, not a total bust, since Sam abandoned his position at the table after that and sat down next to Dean on the bed, laptop balanced on his knees and one hand resting on his brother's chest. On any other day it might have felt overbearing and controlling, but it wasn't as if Dean could have done anything about it, anyway. Besides, somehow it was nice to know Sam was watching out for him, even if his mind seemed elsewhere. Not that Dean would ever admit to it out loud, of course.
But still there was no logical sequence to how his body slid back under his control. Blinking, breathing, and the next thing Dean knew suddenly he could swallow again. Which was nice to know, but somehow difficult to communicate without the ability to use words. He couldn't think of a way to tell Sam about it short of blinking Morse-code for Hey look Sammy, I can swallow again, and Dean was afraid if he tried that, he'd only end up giving himself a cramp. So he settled on swallowing as often and as loudly as he could in the hope that Sam would finally pick up on it.
With the swallowing came the thirst, and the added embarrassment of having Sam hold his head up while he greedily sipped water from a straw his brother was holding out for him. Need overrode dignity for that moment, but Dean vowed never to speak or even think of that particular occurrence again. It was just a one-time occurrence. There'd be no need for a repetition. Surely, if he could swallow again, movement of any part of his body was going to come next.
It didn't.
Because that would have been way too easy.
Instead, breathing turned into talking.
Dean had no idea how it happened, but somehow breathing turned into whispering. And the expression on Sam's face when Dean rasped out his name for the first time was definitely worth the effort to try and force himself to talk. But it was exhausting, far more exhausting than whispering should be, so Dean had to restrain himself. He wanted to talk, he wanted nothing more than to start talking and never stop, simply because he could, and because it felt great to finally be able to communicate again. He didn't even need to convey any meaning with his words. He simply wanted to talk about anything – about food, about music, movies, the frigging weather, Dean didn't care. He wanted to talk. Even more so, he saw how much Sam wanted him to talk. Sam needed to hear his voice, even if it was a barely audible whisper. Sam needed the reassurance, and that was what it took. Sam's need was enough of a reason, had been for all his life.
So for Sam's sake Dean talked as much as he could, but he simply didn't have the strength to say more than the most necessary things.
Water
Pain
Bathroom
Because in a world where the universe sucked and life was unfair, the next logical step after the ability to talk was his bladder reporting back for duty. It sucked. It sucked royally. But it fell right in line with the CPR, the groping inside his pockets, the undressing, the holding his head up to feed him water through a straw. It seemed that the last two days had been nothing but a string of ever increasing embarrassments.
They were so never going to talk about this, ever.
And if Sam ever brought it up again, no matter the situation, that was the moment from which on Dean would start his life as an only child. Simple as that.
It wasn't so much the embarrassment. Dean had learned early on that with their kind of life, you just happened to come into situations where you had to let need override your dignity and let someone else help you, even if it concerned the most basic bodily functions. Not that Dean was in any way relaxed about the whole issue, but that wasn't the main problem.
It was that it was simply plain wrong.
For his whole life, Dean had been the protector, he had been the one to watch out and take care. He had been the one to look after Sam. For his whole life it had been his job to take care of Sam, not the other way around. It simply wasn't right, and no matter how screwed up their relationship currently was, Dean could not wait until he was physically back to normal again. Then he could try and start dealing with everything else that was wrong.
But while it was a continuous process to get there, it was also a frustratingly slow one.
It took hours before whispering no longer was a strenuous challenge, and even longer until it turned into talking with something that resembled a voice. And while swallowing was a useful ability to have, Dean wasn't going to drink any more water before he was able to at least move his legs again. He'd rather face the thirst than have a repeat performance of the bathroom trip that was never going to be mentioned again.
But more than anything, Dean craved movement. At least he could talk again, and Dean guessed he should be more grateful than frustrated about it. Because compared to a few hours ago, it was a huge step. But he needed to be able to move, not only communicate. Not being able to even shift on the bed made him feel exposed, far more vulnerable than he was used to feeling. Phantom itches all over his body teased him into trying to move again and again, and every time his arms and hands didn't react to his brain's commands, his frustration rose. Dean felt trapped in his own body, every cell of his being itching to move, but the muscles simply not obeying his commands.
It was the most frustrating thing he had been through in his entire life.
And even as it all returned, it all went way too slow.
It started with his right hand.
At first it was just a flutter of his fingers, so small that Dean wasn't sure it had really happened. But what felt like an involuntary muscle twitch became a small tapping of fingers against the blanket. The right hand first, then the left. Small movements at first, and a whole night passed before Dean was able to ball his hand into a fist. Even longer before he could lift his arm from the mattress or move his legs.
Dean knew, rationally, that he needed to give it time. The spell was broken, and all the signs said that it was going to take a while, but it was all going to come back. The rational part of his brain knew that. But that rational part could go screw itself every time Dean involuntarily wanted to move, or thought about shifting on the bed, only to find that his body wasn't moving an inch. He wanted to yell whenever it happened, and as it happened more and more often, he realized that the urge to yell wasn't too far away from the urge to cry.
In the end, he did neither, and the close calls were going to go just as unmentioned as the bathroom disaster was.
Besides, he couldn't vent his frustration the way he wanted to. Not with Sam being around. And Sam was always around during those hours. Whenever Dean drifted to awareness again after another involuntary nap, he found Sam turning towards him as if guided by an invisible beacon to the fact that Dean was now awake again. Whenever another part of his body slowly slid back under his control again, Sam was there, smile huge on his face and relief in his eyes, trying to help Dean even though it was obvious that he was struggling hard not to smother.
And whenever Dean went through another of those frustrating moments when he wanted to do something his body wasn't yet ready to do, whenever Dean growled in frustration or yelled at the world at large to just "damn it, fuck it all", Sam was there, wordlessly helping Dean to move as he wanted. It was Sam who made sure that Dean kept hydrated, that he ate something as soon as he was able to chew and swallow again, it was Sam who checked on his wound in regular intervals to make sure there was no sign of infection. And it was Sam who, when Dean's ability to move again was finally getting better and better, prevented his first moment of standing on his own two feet from ending in a spectacular face-plant.
What Sam did was fretting at the highest level, to a degree that Dean wouldn't have let him get away with in any other circumstances. It should have been frustrating and eating away at Dean's nerves, but for some strange reason it wasn't. Dean was by no means comfortable with anything that was going on, or with the degree of help he needed as his body only slowly got back to normal. But Sam's silent presence was actually calming him, grounding him. Reminding him that if was going to be all right, no matter how impossibly slow it seemed to progress.
And of course Bobby was still around, too. Which was probably the reason why Dean was struggling so hard not to let his frustration take over, and why Sam remained so stoically calm about everything even though Dean knew that after the emotional turmoil of the past two days he simply couldn't be. It wasn't for a lack of trust. If there was anybody in the world they could trust aside from one another, it was Bobby. But Bobby being there meant that it wasn't just the two of them. And even if Bobby hadn't been there, by now there were too many boundaries between Dean and his brother to lay everything bare. It wasn't the Winchester way, period. Especially not when somebody else was around, no matter how much they trusted that person.
And Bobby kept himself in the background as much as he could, as if he could sense how uncomfortable Dean was with the situation as a whole, and the fact that he was dependent on his brother's help for the most simple things.
Bobby limited himself to running errands, getting food, switching through the TV channels until he had found something Dean liked. And despite the awkwardness of the whole situation, Dean was glad that Bobby had decided to stick around. The witch was dead and dealt with, but Ruby was still around. Not to mention all the other fuglies who just kept on finding them wherever they went. And while Dean trusted Sam to have his back, right now he knew that his brother was exhausted and injured, with his mind was on other things. So it was good to know that someone else was keeping their eyes and ears open, and that Bobby was there in case something happened.
It were two very long, very frustrating days in that cramped motel room while Dean slowly relearned everything from talking to moving and walking. And he knew that he wasn't easy to deal with all the time, especially during those moments when his own expectations to his abilities went beyond what his body was actually capable of. But neither Sam nor Bobby ever said anything when Dean snarled and growled in a poor attempt to vent off his frustration, or when they ended up on the receiving end of one of his glares or curses simply because they happened to be around when Dean's irritation gained the upper hand.
Even after those endlessly long forty-eight hours of recuperation, Dean wasn't entirely back to normal again. But he was at a point where he could move, talk and walk, and even felt ready to hold and fire a gun if he had to.
Well enough for Bobby to leave.
It was something that came as Dean started to move around the motel room again on legs that were getting ever steadier. Not that either of them wanted Bobby to leave, or told him to. But with everything that had happened, there were so many things Sam and Dean needed to clear up, between them and with nobody else around before they even thought about leaving town, or going on a hunt again. Bobby knew about the siren, and while neither Sam nor Dean had filled him in on the details of what had happened after that witch had put Dean under the spell, Bobby knew them well enough to know when to leave them alone to work things out.
So he announced his departure on the morning of the third day, gruff and court and with no room left for discussion. He packed up, said something about a phone call, and a hunt he needed to check out, and told them to call if they needed anything.
Sam helped the older hunter load his stuff into his car, and it was after he left the room that Dean realized that this was the first time since Bobby's arrival that they were alone. Bobby turned towards Dean and put a hand on his shoulder.
"You boys watch out for each other now. There's a lot of things after you out there, and neither you nor your brother are at a hundred percent yet. Make sure you're all right again before you even think about hunting, you hear me?"
Dean smiled and put his hand against Bobby's arm. "Sure."
"I'm not only talking about your twin sewing jobs, Dean. Whatever it is that happened between Sam and you, work it out. With that demon bitch still out there and all the other crap that's happening, you have more than enough to deal with. Can't afford anything standing between the two of you on top of that."
Dean nodded, knowing that Bobby was right but not so sure that it would be that easy to work it all out as Bobby made it sound. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to give it a try.
He allowed the older hunter to pull him in for a hug.
"Thanks Bobby," he said, and it came out more heartfelt than he had anticipated. It was a thank you for coming, for being there when Sam needed him, no questions asked. But it was a gratitude that stretched farther than the fact that Bobby had dropped everything at short notice and come to Sam's side in time of need. The last time something had happened to Dean, Sam had been left on his own for four months, a time that had changed him beyond recognition in some aspects. Knowing that Bobby was there, and that Sam was turning to him for help when he needed it, was the most reassuring thing Dean had felt over the past months. A simple thank you didn't seem nowhere near enough to express his gratitude for that, but it had to be enough. And with Bobby, it was.
Bobby patted Dean's back a few times, then withdrew form the embrace.
"You take care now, Dean."
Dean simply nodded and watched Bobby take his leave, hugging Sam on the way out and climbing into his old truck. The sound of the old engine revving up followed by the dull thud as Sam closed the motel room door to the outside world was what tore him out of his momentary reverie.
Sam took a few steps into the room, a fake smile plastered on his face.
"You ready to leave this town behind? I could drive for a while, that way you can get some more rest."
And truth be told, Dean wanted nothing more than to get into the Impala and never look back at this town where witches attacked you out of the blue and stabbed you, making your brother think that you were dead. He wanted to drive away and scratch the town's existence from his mental map. But Bobby was right. They couldn't leave now. If they did, they were just going to fall back into their old patterns, pretending none of this had ever happened.
And while Dean normally was all for pushing things aside until they went away on their own, they couldn't afford to. Not this time, especially after everything that had happened. If they left things like they were now, it was going to blow up in their faces sooner rather than later. And Dean remembered the silent vow he had made to himself while he had been lying there, unable to move. He had vowed that if he came out of this again, all he was going to care about was Sam. Saving things between Sam and him before they drifted too far apart from each other to ever get back to normal again.
And that was what he was going to do.
So he shook his head and sank down on the edge of his bed.
"No."
Sam looked surprised, eyebrows going up and his mouth drawing into that surprised pout he always worse when Dean did something that went against his expectations.
"Why not? Are you all right? Do you need more pain meds?"
Dean just shook his head. This was crazy. It was probably the first time in their entire lives that Dean wanted to talk about something, and Sam was the one who was trying to ignore the issue. And as much as Dean appreciated his brother's concern for his wellbeing, after being cooped up for two days straight it was slowly getting annoying. Dean understood what Sam had gone through when he had thought Dean to be dead, he really did. But this constant worrying, the ever-repeated question whether Dean was all right, whether he needed more pain pills, a pillow or some help with fucking breathing, was going on his already thinly stretched nerves.
So Dean couldn't quite keep the anger from flashing in his eyes as he looked up at his brother.
"No, I don't need any more pain pills, Sam. How about you? Do you need pain meds, or a bandage change for the gaping wound in your side?"
Sam looked astonished at the sudden sharpness of Dean's voice, but his hand automatically went to his side, carefully touching the bandage underneath his t-shirt that covered up the knife wound, as if he was checking to see if he had torn his stitches. He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected Dean to remember his injury, much less mention it, but Dean hadn't forgotten.
It was hard to forget that Sam had allowed Ruby to ram a knife into his side for the sake of saving Dean. In fact, it was hard to forget all the things that had happened with Sam and Ruby over the past days.
Sam shook his head for a second, silently mulling Dean's words over in his head as if he was searching for a different sense in them. After a few silent moments, he drew up one of the room's chairs and sat down near the foot of the beds, looking at Dean.
"All right, what's going on?"
Dean drew a deep breath, struggling hard not to lash out. It was hard, his level of frustration had been rising constantly over the past days and he really, really didn't want to have this discussion right now when his brother was playing stupid, acting as if nothing had happened that would keep them from getting back on the road.
"Nothing. Nothing at all, Sammy."
"Right. That's why you're acting as if I had suggested we trade the Impala for a hybrid just because I wanted to leave. So I'm asking you what's going on."
Dean laughed mirthlessly. "I'm just a little surprised."
Sam's eyebrows went up to his hairline. "About what?"
"You. Your fake cheerful 'Ready to leave' crap. What? You want to blaze out of here in a cloud of dust? 'Bumfuck Minnesota, witch-free since 2009', let's move on to the next hunt?"
"What, so you're telling me you don't want to get out of here as fast as possible? You nearly died here, in case you had forgotten. Is it so surprising that I want to leave as fast as we can? We can drive for a few hours, then hole up somewhere else for a couple of days if you think you need more rest."
"It's not about me getting rest!" Dean threw his hands up in frustration, unsure whether Sam was deliberately misunderstanding him or whether he simply didn't get it. "I'm all for leaving this crappy town behind. But not like this."
Sam stared at Dean for a second or two, then he sank down on the bed facing Dean.
"All right, so what now? We're going to have a moment or something? I'm sorry I didn't figure it all out earlier, and that you had to lie around and worry that I was going to burn your body any moment. I can't imagine how hard that was, and I'm sorry."
No, Sam was deliberately being dumb, now Dean was sure of it. Sam just wasn't this thick.
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."
Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then what do you want to talk about? What's so urgent that you of all people push off getting back on the road in favor of having a moment of sharing and caring?"
"Gee, I don't know Sam. Where do I start? How about we have another little talk about how I'm weak, and holding you back? Let's start with that, shall we? Because you can pretend for all you want, but we both know that all this 'It was just the siren talking' is a load of crap. Especially since your pal Ruby was kind enough to spell it all out. For how long have you been whining about that behind my back, Sam? For how long have you run to Ruby, telling her how pathetic I am and how I'm holding you back from becoming the big hunter you think you ought to be?"
Sam's face fell for a few seconds before his eyes widened and he drew breath to say something. But Dean cut him off before he could bring out a single word. Dean didn't like how sharp and accusatory his voice sounded, but he couldn't help it. Merely the thought about Sam talking to Ruby about these things made his gut clench.
And though Dean didn't want to admit it, it hurt.
The thought that Sam had gone to Ruby to complain about Dean's weakness and how he was standing in Sam's way hurt more than Dean was willing to even think about.
"Dean, I…"
"No Sam. For how long has this been going on? You thought I didn't notice your sneaking out to meet with her, you think I wouldn't have found out about what you really think sooner or later, too?"
Sam shook his head frantically, as if trying to push the words away.
"No Dean, that's not what…"
"What Sam? What is it not? Because frankly, I don't know what the hell to think anymore. You keep meeting that demon bitch, keep baring your soul to her, keep practicing all those little tricks with her when you won't even talk to me about what you were doing, let alone what you were planning. What do you want me to think, Sam? What do you want me to do? Am I holding you back? Is that it? Should I leave you alone? Do you want me to leave and let you go fight Lilith on your own?"
"What? No!"
Sam's eyes widened in a way that would have been comical in any other situation, and he actually jumped up from the bed and put himself in the small space between the bed and the door, as if to stop Dean from leaving.
As if Dean ever could.
After a second or two, Sam sighed and seemed to deflate a little.
"I…Dean, it's not like that."
Dean shook his head. "No Sam, I'm gonna need more than that. Because right now I don't know what is what. You think I'm dead and the second person you call is that demon bitch. She knows more about what's going on with you right now than I do. And you can't tell me that she hasn't taught you some new tricks, Sam. It's not just exorcising demons anymore. You flung Ruby all across the room and held her against the wall, with your mind. The only other people I've seen do something like this weren't people at all. They were demons."
Sam couldn't have reacted differently if Dean had dealt him a physical blow. He took a step back as if to try and keep his balance. With one hand on the footboard of the bed, as if to steady himself, Sam took a few steps to the side and bonelessly sank back down on the mattress. His face had paled rapidly, and in that moment he didn't look like a bulky 6'4'' tall man in his twenties. He looked like the five year old Sammy Dean remembered. The Sam Dean had thought he knew better than anybody else.
The Sam Dean wanted back, but who he was secretly afraid was gone for good.
"It scared me."
The words were so soft that Dean nearly missed them. When his head snapped up, he found that Sam had his head leaning into his hands, face buried in his palms and eyes cast to the floor.
"What?"
Sam shook his head and slowly looked up at Dean.
"I…I know what you're thinking, and I know what it has to look like, but you have to believe me Dean. I never wanted for any of this to happen."
"Then what Sam? Because right now, I have no idea where we stand. I have no frigging clue what is what. All I know is that you think I'm holding you back, and that before she revealed herself as the treacherous bitch that she was, you wanted to fight this war with Ruby and not with me. So what now, Sam? What do we do now?"
Sam sighed, but when he looked up at Dean again, there was a resolve and determination in his eyes which hadn't been there before.
"You want the truth?"
"It would be nice for a change, yeah."
Sam didn't react to the barb. He got up again and started pacing up and down the cramped space between the two beds, although he took great care not to get too close to where Dean was sitting.
"Ruby might have been lying about a lot of things, but not about that."
And while Dean had known that, it still felt like a stab at his insides, worse than the moment when the knife had cut through his side. If there was ever anything he had wanted to be a lie, this was it. And honestly, Dean had no idea what to say. It shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but fact was it did.
Swallowing hard, Dean nodded. So that's how it was. At least now he knew for sure. That was a start, wasn't it?
Sam ran a hand over his face and shook his head again.
"I mean, you know how things were between us over the past months. If anybody does, it's you. Things have changed after you…after you came back. We both changed. And I…don't think for one moment that I'm not glad Castiel pulled you out. I am. But you came back and acted as if nothing had changed, and yet it was so painfully obvious that you were different. And you didn't tell me anything, Dean. You didn't tell me that you remember Hell, or what happened to you there. I had you back, but it felt as if I hardly knew you."
Sam sighed and cast his eyes to the floor for a second before he looked up at Dean again.
"You were different, and I had changed, too. Those four months…I had to live them, Dean. Without you. And there was nothing that kept me going but revenge. And Ruby offered me a way to get that. That, and a way to use that demonic…taint in me for something good. And as wrong as trusting her turned out in the end, back then it was what kept me going. After you came back…damn it Dean, we didn't understand each other anymore. I couldn't understand why you were doing the things you did, why you kept lying to me about Hell, and I knew that there was no way you would ever understand why I kept working with Ruby."
"Yeah, which turned out to be an awesome idea, by the way."
Sam's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed in anger. "If we're doing all this just because you want to let out a big I told you so, we can as well stop now."
Dean rolled his eyes, but he bit back another remark. Sam talking was better than Sam shutting down on him and pretending that nothing had happened. Even if it meant hearing things he didn't particularly want to hear.
"You can't imagine what it's like to live knowing that I have demon blood in me, Dean. No matter what you do, you can't understand that. And Ruby was there, offering me a way to use it to save people. Maybe even to kill Lilith. And you were against it. You just didn't understand, but when I tried to get to know why, you shut down on me."
"What, so this is all my fault now?"
Dean couldn't help his rising indignation. He might be ready to listen to some uncomfortable truths, but he wasn't going to let Sam lay the blame for everything that had happened on him. But Sam only shook his head wearily.
"No. I don't know whose fault it is. Mine. Ruby's. Yours. Probably all of that and yet nothing. It doesn't matter, either. What matters is that Ruby had her claws in me so deep that I didn't even think about who was right and wrong. I was trying to save the world, and you were holding me back. I wanted to go up against Lilith, and you kept holding me back."
"Because I'm weak. And you're the better, stronger hunter."
And the amount of venom in Dean's voice would have been enough to kill a horde of small rodents, but Sam barely seemed to notice. Instead, he nodded.
"Yeah. That's what I told Ruby. That's what it felt like. You were too weak to fight Lilith the way I thought she needed to be fought. You were holding me back."
Dean swallowed even though his throat felt dry, and nodded. "I understand."
Sam shook his head, getting up from the bed again as if he couldn't bear to sit still.
"No, I don't think you understand. Damn it Dean, I'm glad you were holding me back. If you hadn't, I have no idea what would have happened, what Ruby would have made me do. I see that now, and it took her leaving you for dead to make me see it. So whatever I might have thought, or said to Ruby, you were right with what you did. I was the one who didn't see what was really going on, and where it might lead."
And if there ever was a moment for I told you so, this was it. Yet Dean barely felt it, and let it pass without conscious acknowledgment. There was no moment of triumph or elation, no matter how small. There most certainly was no good side to him turning out to be right about something as screwed up as this.
Sam's next words, however, made his head snap up rapidly and chased away all thoughts about whether it really mattered which one of them had turned out to be right in the end.
"And when I told Ruby that you were weak, it's because you are."
"What the…"
Dean was on his feet in a heartbeat, anger taking over all other emotions that were coursing through him at that moment, and crossed the distance to Sam in three big strides. To his credit, Sam didn't back down and kept Dean's gaze even as his brother stepped clear into his personal space.
"The only thing that's wrong about that, Dean, is that you seem to be the only person on the planet who doesn't see that there's nothing wrong with being weak on occasion. After what you've been through? I'd be surprised if there were no nightmares, no flashbacks, nothing at all. But you think you have to be the eternally strong one who has to make everything out on his own. If I had known earlier what had happened to you in Hell, I might have gotten it earlier. But you kept silent, and I didn't get it and…damn it yes, I resented you for being weak, and for holding me back."
Dean still didn't think he understood. "So you kept going back to Ruby."
Sam nodded. "Yes. Because I thought that I had to be the strong one. The one to make decisions, to keep my head in the game and find a way to find and kill Lilith. And Ruby offered me that chance. I should have known that it seemed too easy, too good to be true. But Ruby teaching me to use my powers, it gave me a feeling of control. For the first time in months, maybe even since you closed the deal and we started chasing after a way to get you out, I had the feeling that I was in control of things again. I could do something, I could finally act instead of just react. I was doing something to find Lilith instead of just waiting around for seal after seal to be broken. That's why I kept going back to her. That's why I didn't listen to you, even though I should have."
Dean shrugged, his earlier anger evaporated into an encompassing numbness that left him unsure of what to do next. So now he knew, but to be honest, he had no idea what to make of it. Not really.
"Was part of the whole control thing that she taught you how to throw people across the room with just your mind?"
Sam's throat moved with a heavy swallowing motion, and he looked everywhere but right into Dean's eyes.
"No."
And despite the lack of eye contact, Dean found himself believing his brother. There simply was something, an undertone of anguish and maybe even fear in Sam's voice that made it impossible to take that one word for a lie.
"Ruby taught me how to exorcise, nothing else. She trained me, showed me how to do it without getting headaches or nosebleeds. We worked on getting better at that, but she never…"
Sam looked up at Dean, and there was something in his eyes that sent a shiver down Dean's spine.
"I don't know how it happened. Ruby…what she said, it made me so angry. I wanted her to stop, to shut up, and the next thing I know is that she's hanging against the wall and I'm holding her there. I've never done something like that before. It's like what happened when Max locked me in that closet and I had the vision of you getting shot. Back then I didn't know how I moved the wardrobe, either. It just…happened. And it scares me."
And that last sentence was Dean's undoing.
This was Sam, the Sam Dean knew. The fear, the doubt, the worries, those were things they had gone through before. It were things Dean knew how to deal with, even though he had no idea if this time a simple 'I won't let anything happen to you' was going to suffice. But at least it was out in the open now. Dean could deal with that.
"We're going to figure something out, Sam."
Sam shook his head. "What if we don't, Dean? What if by letting Ruby teach me these things, by using these powers, I started something I can't stop anymore?"
Dean shook his head emphatically, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezing tightly until Sam looked into his eyes.
"We'll figure this out."
It was a promise Dean wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. But he was damn well going to try.
Sam nodded once, averting his eyes, and Dean let his hand drop from Sam's shoulder again. Sam was biting his lip, as if deliberating whether or not to say something, but then the words just seemed to blurt out.
"I didn't get angry because she was right."
Dean frowned, trying to keep up with this non-sequitur. "Huh?"
"Ruby. When I threw her against the wall. I didn't get angry because what she said was right."
Dean remembered the demons words that had driven his brother over the edge, the accusation that Sam had been glad about Dean's death, thinking it would have made things easier for him.
Dean nodded, not really knowing how to respond. "Okay."
"I'm serious, Dean. She started saying all these things about how she knew I must have been glad that you were dead, and that it made me feel relieved…I knew you could hear what she was saying, and I wanted her to stop. She knew you could hear everything, and I didn't want you to think that what she said was true. That's what I got angry about, not because anything she said was the truth."
Again, Dean didn't know how else to respond but nod, but seemingly that wasn't enough of a reaction for his brother. This time, it was Sam's hand that went out to Dean's shoulder, as if the physical contact would lend more emphasis to his words.
"I need you to understand that, Dean. None of what Ruby said was true. I…no matter what, that's something that's never going to happen. Even when I thought you were…before we found out that you were under a spell, I was never in any way relieved or glad that you were gone. Never."
And Dean hadn't known before, but hearing it spoken out loud was far more important than he would have ever thought. Right now, he was glad about every common denominator they had, no matter how small it was.
"Never thought you would have been."
Sam squeezed his shoulder once with a nod, then withdrew his hand from Dean's shoulder and shuffled somewhat awkwardly.
"So, what now?"
That actually made Dean laugh. "Damned if I know."
"We just take it from here then? Go look for the next hunt?"
And it was more than a question about how to proceed, Dean knew that. It was Sam looking to Dean to give them the direction for their next steps. Sam asking Dean if he was ready to leave it at that. If they were good with each other.
And frankly, Dean didn't know. He didn't think they were.
So he shook his head.
"No. First we put it all on the table. Everything. No holds barred. Anything you haven't told me yet, you tell me. Anything you want to know, you ask and I'll tell. No more secrets from now on, Sam."
And Sam nodded, without hesitation, and the amount of relief Dean felt at that was ridiculous.
"Yeah, let's do that."
"Good. But first, we spring this joint. Because you're right, I want to get out of this crappy excuse for a town as quick as I can."
That brought a smile on Sam's face, and he turned towards their half-packed bags that were standing on one of the beds.
"I thought you'd never say that."
Sam handed Dean his duffel, movements still slightly hesitant due to the wound in his side. Dean could relate to that feeling. His own stab wound wasn't bothering him too much if he moved carefully, but he wouldn't want to twist unexpectedly or in any other way tear at his side right now, either.
For a few moments, the two silently packed their remaining clothes and possessions into the duffel bags. They didn't talk, but for once it wasn't an oppressive silence that had settled between them. Dean was very much aware that this had only been a start. There were still a lot of things they needed to talk about. But not here, not now. Not in the room Sam associated with thinking Dean was dead, and which was too much of a reminder of the complete helplessness Dean had felt during those long hours when he had been unable to move.
No, here wasn't the right place for that. They could do that in the car, in case Dean could stay awake long enough to hold a coherent conversation. Or in the next motel room. But not here.
"There's one thing I can't stop asking myself."
Sam's words tore Dean out of his thoughts, and he straightened up abruptly to look at Sam. A little too abruptly, the movement did exactly what Dean had vowed not to do earlier. It tore at the wound in his side, and despite his best intentions Dean couldn't quite keep the pain from showing on his face. Sam's eyes immediately narrowed in concern, but Dean waved him off.
"What?" He asked while picking up another shirt and stuffing it in their laundry duffel, keeping his movements exaggeratedly normal to assure Sam that nothing was wrong with his wound.
Sam shifted the rolled up pair of socks he was holding from one hand to the other, as if they were a new specimen that he didn't quite know how to handle.
"What if, despite everything, Ruby is right?"
Dean couldn't believe his ears. They had been through that, hadn't they?
"Sam, she was ready and willing to let you leave me for dead. What else is it going to take for you to understand that nothing coming out of her mouth is the truth?"
Sam shook his head. "That's not what I meant."
"Good. Because otherwise I think I'd have to punch you."
Sam laughed without any real mirth behind it and finally put the socks into the duffel bag.
"I know that I can't trust anything she said, Dean. I get it now, and it shouldn't have taken that much for me to understand it. She was using me for her own plan, whatever that is. But what if, behind all that, what if she was telling the truth about me? That the only way to stop Lilith is by using my powers. What if she was right about that?"
Dean drew a deep breath, his thoughts racing. Truth be told, he had absolutely no idea what to say. The only thing he did know for sure was that he wanted Sam to use his accursed powers as little as possible. Never would be just about fine with him. He turned and looked Sam straight in the eye.
"What if it is, but it's going to cost you?"
Now it was Sam's turn to frown. "What do you mean?"
"These powers Sam, they come from a demon. Ultimately, no good can come out of that. I mean, just look at it. First it was visions, then you moved around furniture with your mind. Then it's exorcisms, and suddenly you start flinging around people. I mean, where is this going to lead if you keep using these powers? If it costs your soul, it's not worth it, Sammy."
The corner of Sam's mouth twitched at Dean's use of the nickname, but he still looked unconvinced.
"If it's the thing that will stop Lilith and the Apocalypse, should it matter?"
Something in Dean's stomach turned to ice at those words, and he immediately dropped the duffel bag to the bed and turned towards Sam, both hands immediately going for his brother's shoulders.
"Never say something like that again, Sam. Never."
Sam shrugged off Dean's hands and spread his arms. "But what if it's true? If those powers are what can save the world, what kind of bastard would I be to be more concerned about my own soul than that?"
Dean bit his lip, struggling hard not to just yell at Sam in frustration. There had been enough yelling and accusations for one day. Besides, he needed for Sam to understand, really understand, why Dean could never ever accept that as a possibility. Not even as the price for saving the world.
"The way I see it, if somebody – and I don't know if it's God or anybody else – gives us the crappy job to save the world, the least they can do is let us do it our way."
Sam only shook his head. "It's not a job, Dean. It's a responsibility. I mean, we're talking the freaking end of the world here."
"I know that. But damn it, neither of us asked to be involved in this crap. And let's be honest about this here – we both don't want the Apocalypse to happen. Demons ruling the world, Lucifer walking free, we'd be stupid to want that. But I'm not playing on any team here, Sam. Remember what Dad said about intel."
"You're not seriously bringing up any of his old Marine stuff now, are you?"
"The man wasn't perfect, I get that, but he was right. Dad always said only to ever trust your own intel. So that's what we do. Heaven, the angels, Ruby – they're all playing towards their own ends. They all have their own plans, and they want us to play along with them, no questions asked. But I'm not doing that anymore, and neither are you. We know we can't trust Ruby, or any other demon for that matter. And the more angels I meet, the more convinced I get that the number one job requirement for them is being a dick. They've been manipulating us just as much as Ruby did. And that's going to stop."
Sam drew breath to reply, but Dean shook his head.
"No. There's no other option here, Sam. We fight this war because that's what we do. We're going to stop Lilith because if we don't, nobody will. But we're damn well going to do it our way. If we can't trust Heaven and Hell anymore, we fall back to the only people we can trust. And that's ourselves."
A small smile spread over Sam's face. "And each other."
It felt so damn good to hear it, Dean didn't have any words to describe it. Didn't think he had to, either. So instead, he rolled his eyes at his brother.
"Great. Now you want to hug, don't you?"
The smile on Sam's face widened, and Dean was standing too close to escape before Sam with his octopus-reach had put an arm around him and was pulling him against his chest. And seriously, Dean had been through worse embarrassments over the past days, it wasn't as if his dignity could be further dented by a hug. He wrapped his own arms around Sam and patted his back.
"I have one suggestion for you, though." Dean said, his face muffled against Sam's collarbone. "The next time you're going all Baywatch on me with the CPR thing? Take a breath mint before you start. Just in case."
Sam's shoulders shook with what could have been laughter or maybe a suppressed sob. Dean didn't know. All he knew was that it had distracted Sam a little from the fact that they were still hugging. And maybe also from the fact that Dean was clinging to Sam just as much as the other way around.
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TBC in the epilogue...
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Thanks for reading. As always, please let me know what you think. Thanks a lot.
