Dedicated: FOR MUFFY!
Special mention: to all the wonderful people who have reviewed or sent me PMs. The support you've shown me - and Muffy - has been really touching and this chapter has been posted early as a special thank you! Read it before you say 'your welcome', coz you might hate me soon! lol
This chapter is un-beta'd, so please forgive any errors. I have done this for two reasons: one, to give TraSan a break and hope that she still loves me! :) And secondly, coz I wanted to post it straight away so you all have an extra chapter for the day - especially since I know Muffy's sneaking extra computer time :) Oh, and thirdly, because this chapter is a little bit special and refused to go unwritten! lol
DEAN
Chapter Seven
Dean turned the volume up on the stereo, chuckling when Sam startled awake and glared at him from droopy eyes. There was no heat in the look, just a bit of frustration and then acceptance as Dean's younger brother shifted in his seat to get more comfortable. Soon Sam was singing along with the music, Dean joining in loudly as he was caught up in the moment. It wasn't often that the brothers were able to relax and just enjoy themselves without looking over their shoulder, but this was one of them.
They stopped for lunch but instead of going to the usual diner, Dean found a bar that had a lunch menu written on a sign out the front that had him cringing. Salad! They actually thought that a salad was a selling point? Who the hell are these people? Dean thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Wondering what Sam would think of the crab salad they seemed so proud of, Dean parked out the front of the bar and ignored Sam's questioning glance.
He whacked Sam lightly on the shoulder.
"Hungry, little brother?" he asked, already climbing out of the car. His tone was casual, as if nothing was different but Sam was looking at him like he had two heads. Dean ignored him and walked through the door, leaving his brother to follow along behind. They approached the bar and Dean nodded at the bar tender as he glanced up from the crossword that he was clearly not very good at. "One lunch special and one of the largest, greasiest burgers you can possibly make."
"Coming right up," the bar tender assured him.
"Oh, and a side of fries and two beers," Dean added.
"Dean?" Sam asked, clearly confused. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean? You gotta eat."
Sam shook his head.
"Hey dude, look! A pool table!" Dean sounded so excited, but when he saw the look on his little brother's face he was taken aback. "What's wrong?"
"There's no one else in the bar, Dean."
"So?"
"Who you gonna hustle?"
Dean's heart sank a little as he realised what Sam was asking, but he ignored the feeling and headed for the table anyway, quickly racking up the balls.
"What? You not up to the challenge?"
"You want to play me?"
"Why not? Aren't I allowed to play pool with my kid brother?"
"Dean."
"What Sam?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong."
"Is too."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is no- Sam, cut it out! What's your problem?" Dean snapped, frustration and anger flashing in his eyes. "What's so wrong with me wanting to play pool with my kid brother? Why is this such an issue?"
"We haven't played pool in years."
"So?"
Sam shrugged and finally approached the table and took the cue from his brother. He seemed to consider something for a moment, his brow furrowed but he sighed and turned to the table, lining up the break and snapping the cue against the ball loudly. Balls spread across the table and two sank in opposite corners.
"Haven't lost your touch, Sammy," Dean grinned proudly, watching as Sam lined up his next shot.
"Had to pay my way somehow at Stanford," Sam muttered before pulling the cue back and sending the ball across the table again.
"You telling me you hustled pool? You always hated that."
Sam straightened and looked at Dean carefully.
"Only did it once," Sam told him, looking away. "Paid for a months rent and bought some food. Wasn't worth it."
Dean raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Cost more than it made," Sam answered, indicating that Dean should take his shot. The conversation was obviously over, or so Dean thought, but a moment later Sam continued. "Ended up spending two weeks in the ICU before I was even able to buy the food."
"What?" Dean gasped, staring in disbelief at Sam as he looked up from his shot. "What happened?"
"The guys I hustled took offence. They didn't want their money back, they just wanted to make me pay," Sam told him grimly. "It was nothing."
"Nothing? You don't spend two weeks in the ICU for nothing, Sammy."
Sam shrugged.
"What did they do?" Dean pushed. Sam raised his shirt and turned his back. What Dean saw made his stomach churn painfully. "Sam… oh my God…"
"It was nothing," Sam repeated. The bartender arrived with their food and Sam sat down, studying his plate seriously, as if there were answers mixed in with the salad.
"Sam…" Dean watched his brother, shaking his head. He hadn't moved yet, was seriously unsure if his legs would hold him up if he tried. "Why didn't anyone call us?"
Now, however, the conversation really was over. Dean finally took the seat across from his brother, but suddenly the greasy burger before him made his stomach hurt even more.
The conversation turned suddenly, as if Sam had never said anything. As they laughed and joked in a way they hadn't done for such a long time Dean couldn't remember, he started to wonder if they had, in fact, had that conversation. Had Sam really spent two weeks in the ICU?
"Dean?" Sam asked, clicking his fingers in front of his eyes. Dean looked up to find Sam was no longer sitting across from him. He was standing beside the table. "We going or what?"
"Huh?"
"You okay?" Sam narrowed his eyes as he studied Dean's face.
Dean nodded, forcing a smile onto his face and getting to his feet.
"Totally," Dean assured him. He turned to drop some money onto the table but saw Sam had already taken care of it. The remains of Dean's burger was sitting on the plate, the bread having been used to mop up the remaining sauce. Dean hesitated for a minute, wondering if he should be concerned about the fact that he couldn't remember eating it.
"Dean!" Sam called. He was standing at the door now, holding it open. "What's up with you?"
Dean shook his head and headed for the door. By the time he reached it, it had closed and Sam was already leaning against the Impala.
"Something really strange is going on," Dean told him, walking across the parking lot.
"Like what?"
Dean stood before his younger brother and looked into his eyes. At first he saw only Sam, the usual emo look in his eyes but suddenly it was there. Darkness. Black flashed through Sam's eyes. Dean jumped away from him so suddenly that he fell to the ground, shock forcing a cry from his lips.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, rushing to his side and reaching down to him. Dean shrank away from him, fear evident in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Who are you?" Dean demanded, scrambling away from Sam and getting to his feet and pulling his gun, trying to recover from his shock. "Who the HELL are you?!"
"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked again, nothing but concern in his eyes again.
"You're not my brother," Dean hissed, disgusted. "You're not Sam!"
Sam flinched, hurt.
"Dean, it's me," he tried to tell him. "It's just me, dude."
"Liar! You're a demon! You bastard, I'm gonna kill you!" Dean yelled, flicking the safety off and stepping toward Sam. "Get out of my brother, you son-of-a-bitch, or I swear I'll kill you!"
Sam didn't step backwards, he just held his hands up helplessly, his eyes pleading with his brother.
"Dean," he spoke quietly. "You're not going to kill me."
"Shut UP!" Dean yelled, pushing Sam against the Impala now, his head hitting the roof sharp enough to bounce a little. "Is it Meg again? Or are you some other slimy bastard we've sent to hell?"
"Dean, stop it," Sam gasped, pain lacing his voice as Dean pressed his forearm against Sam's throat. "It's me, Dean. I swear!"
Dean pressed the gun to Sam's temple.
"Dean, please! Look at me, look into my eyes! You've gotta believe me! I'm just me!" Sam pleaded reaching his hand up to hold Dean's wrist gently. He didn't struggle, didn't attempt to fight Dean off, just looked deep into his eyes. "Dean, you know me better than anyone. You'd know if I was possessed."
"I didn't know," Dean muttered, regret mixed among the other emotions in his voice. "How am I supposed to know now?"
"Look," Sam told him, breathlessly.
Dean looked at Sam, waiting for his eyes to change again, waiting for something to tell him what to do. He was scared. He'd never felt such fear in his life. Sam's eyes didn't change, they just pleaded with him to believe him – to believe in him. They were the soft, gentle eyes that Dean had always known, full of compassion. Sam had always seemed to carry the pain of the world around with him. He loved easily, wanted to help everyone, wanted to have a normal life and a family. All of that was reflected with the eyes looking out at Dean now, with it was a new emotion that Dean had seen numerous times before and was pained now to have caused it once again.
Pain. The pain of knowing that his family, especially the only family he had left, could believe he was evil. Sam viewed that as a lack of trust, a lack of faith, and Dean hated himself for it.
How could he believe…?
"Dude, look out!" Sam yelled, reaching for the steering wheel of the Impala and trying to correct its direction.
Dean gasped, held tighter to the wheel and directed it back onto the correct side of the lane just in time to avoid hitting another car.
"Sorry," Dean mumbled, frowning.
"You okay?" Sam asked. "The truth this time."
Dean hesitated.
"I think something's wrong, Sammy," he admitted. He glanced at Sam quickly, not trusting himself to take his eyes off the road for too long. "I've been losing time."
Sam blinked.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"We were just standing at the Impala, just now. I thought you were possessed, remember? I had my gun on you and everything…" Dean explained quickly. "And now, suddenly, I'm here. About to drive into oncoming traffic."
Sam studied him carefully. There was something in his eyes that Dean didn't understand, but then he realised what it was. Sam was hurt, upset that Dean would believe he was possessed and Dean bringing it up again just made it worse.
"Did I say I was sorry for that?" Dean asked softly.
"For what?" Sam asked again.
"For thinking you were possessed. For throwing you up against the car, holding a gun to your head. Kind of deserves an apology don't you think?"
Sam nodded.
"Sure," he agreed slowly. "But Dean, you don't owe me an apology."
"Why not?"
"Coz that never happened."
"Huh?"
"You never threw me up against the car. We've been driving for the last four hours."
"No we haven't, we just stopped at the bar for lunch. We played pool, remember?" Dean was getting anxious. "You told me about the time you hustled pool in Stanford to pay your rent and buy food, how you ended up in the ICU."
"I never hustled pool at Stanford, Dean. And what are you talking about? I never ended up in the ICU," Sam denied, looking more concerned than Dean had ever seen him. "The worst I ever got while I was at Stanford was a cold."
"No, you showed me the scar! On your back, they stabbed you… I saw the scar, Sam!" Dean was beginning to panic now. "Sam! I saw it! You told me what happened."
Sam hesitated.
"I think we should stop at the next clinic and get you checked out," Sam suggested. "And maybe I should drive."
"No! Dammit, Sam, you told me!" Dean yelled, staring at his little brother now as panic filled his chest completely. He was having trouble breathing. "It HAPPENED! I know it did!"
"Dean…"
"No! I'm not going crazy!" Dean was shouting, his voice breaking with the strain. "It happened! It did! You-"
"DEAN!"
Dean looked down at the bed before him, the sheet white and clean. Someone was talking to him, asking him questions but he couldn't understand what they were saying. His heart was filled with dread, his throat dry. There was a lump so large and so painful he didn't think he'd ever speak again, didn't believe he'd ever be able to breathe properly again.
"Sir?"
A man stepped into Dean's vision and stared at him sympathetically.
"I'm sorry to have to ask you this," he was saying. Dean saw in his eyes that he really was sorry, but he didn't care. The man pulled the sheet back slowly, watching as Dean's eyes returned to the bed before him. "Is this your brother?"
Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Sam was lying before him, his skin grey. His eyes were shut as if he were sleeping, but his chest didn't rise and fall in the gentle rhythm it should have had. There was a large bruise down one side of Sam's face, the skin pulled back in a tear. Dean could still see shards of glass through Sam's hair from the impact with the windshield and he reached out his hand shakily and combed his fingers through it to get it out.
Sam's skin was so cold Dean flinched, but he forced his hand to continue stroking his hair. Sam would be scared, he knew that. He needed to know he wasn't alone, that Dean was there for him. He needed to know that everything would be okay.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean told him, his voice barely above a whisper. "We've been through worse. I brought you back once, I can do it again."
But the crossroads demon, I killed it. Remember? Sam's voice whispered in his head. Dean closed his eyes, trying to ignore the truth. You can't save me, Dean. You have to let me go.
"Not going to happen, Sammy," Dean told him, looking down at him again. "You're dying is not an option."
But it is, Dean.
"Not it's not."
It is.
"Is not!"
It is!
"NO IT'S NOT!" Dean yelled, shaking his brother by the shoulders now. Tears slipping unnoticed down his cheeks as painful sobs were dragged from his body. "You can't die, I won't let you."
Sam remained quiet.
"Sam?"
No answer.
"Sammy?" Dean tried again, desperation in his voice. "Sammy?"
Sam remained still and quiet before him. Dean stared at him, destroyed.
"So this is it?" Dean asked. "You're leaving me now? But why? Coz of a stupid car accident? That's not right, Sam. You can't die like that, not from a car accident! You survive demons and ghosts, wendigos, werewolves, vampires and then you go and die in a car accident! It can't end like this! It's not right!"
Sam didn't seem to be listening.
"God, Sammy, I'm so sorry!" Dean cried, dropping to his knees and holding onto his brothers hand. "I'm so sorry. Please tell me you can hear me. Sam? Please!"
Silence.
"Sam?" Dean looked up at his brothers face, grief choking him painfully. "Sammy?"
FOR MUFFY
AN - Dean was getting chatty and he wanted to have a break from being beaten on, but I dont think this is what he had in mind! lol Hope you like!
Hugs for Muffy! Send lotsa hugs for a special chapter! Oh, and as for me, at least ONE reviewer owes me a SPOON for my Nutella! lol