Fait-Divers - Téléphone
(Petty crimes)
They picked up Sam, who got Chuck to gather everyone in the main room, on their way to the graveyard. Dean filled him in with their alter-ego's story, how the ghost- kid they encountered led them to the map, hidden behind a frame. Why would someone have the strange idea to do that in the first place? Nobody would know now. But they wouldn't question their luck, would they?
Once Dean almost stumbled over the first kid tombstone, they shared the work : Sam would stand guard first, and the three others would dig.
_ Hope Miss Grove get enough hold on the naughty boys so they won't come to us.
_ Count on that." Dean answered with a vicious dig at the earth. For a reason he didn't get, the guys never stopped 'larping' and hearing private conversations between Sam and him in their mouths was wearing his patience thin. Hopefully the exercise would make them shut the Hell up before he loses it.
Or not. Their stream of luck was bound to end, sooner than later.
_ Shut up! You shut up! This is no game, there is nothing fun in being a hunter, it's just crap that keeps on falling over your head and deal with it. Not a job you can just call a day off because you don't feel like getting up. When you do, people die! Now you shut up and dig!
After that, for a while, the only sounds were labored breath and shuffled dirt. Until he got to the coffin of the first kid. A "woosh", followed by a sizzling sound came to his ears.
_ Sam?
He dug through the molded wood.
_ Looks like we finally got their attention.
It was followed by a crashing noise, Dean use the shovel's handle as leverage to unseal the planks.
_ Need help?
_ No I'm good, keep on Dude." Came the somewhat wheezy answer. "Plus, help might be already there. Or else.
Dean was about to ask about that when a feminine voice made itself heard. "Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!". He chuckled, Sam fighting ghosts alongside another ghost; he'd love to see that. Had no time to though.
A glance at the next tomb made him scramble out of the one he dug and jump in Fake-Sam's.
_ Get the bones out of the grave in pile, I'll finish dig that one.
Poor guy was pasty white and probably at that to puke his guts out. What lack of exercise could do someone. Or maybe the reality has finally caught-up. Didn't really matter, anyway.
Dean kept digging, trying not to give too much attention to the grunts coming from above. The faster he gets to the coffin...
Sam was starting to get dizzy. Laetitia Gore's appearance had calmed the little nightmares down for a time. But she was no match to the threat of being offed. And they had knives. He had just shot the blond who was targeting the "Dean" larper when the one with a cap got a aim at his right arm.
Even ghost knives hurt.
Luckily, the cut wasn't deep enough to incapacitate him. But the shove that send him flying against some tombstone also send sparks in his head, he was blackening out. He dearly hoped Dean and their helps would be done soon. He couldn't keep up for much longer.
The time he recovered enough to try to get back on his feet, the blond was on him, knife poised on his forehead. It was so unfair that ghosts were so strong, no matter the size, his arms were starting to get a cramp. The blood was already starting to drip from his forehead when, suddenly, it was over. The ghosts had vanished.
Sam tried to get up, but stayed seated for a moment to clear his head.
_ Dude, you OK?
Dean was crouching in front of him, assessing his injuries with the ease of habit. It shouldn't.
_ Yep, I'll may need a couple stitches, that's all. Just a bit dizzy.
Shouldn't have said that. Dean's hand went immediately to his head to search for a concussion. He gently swatted it.
_ No head injuries. I'm OK Dean.
He did accept the offered hand to haul him up though.
_ How are you?
He didn't ask Dean, he was obviously fine, a bruise on the jaw. But the two others looked weary. They still gave him positive, albeit subdued, answers.
_ Do you think Miss Gore and her son will just go away now?
As an answer, Dean nodded toward a point behind them. Laetitia Gore and her son were both there. They inclined then vanished. Not the usual teleport thing, but more like Molly, they were passing away.
They packed up the material in silence, letting the guys let what they just experienced sink in. They looked both shaken and awed.
_ Congrat's dudes, you achieved your first salt and burn.
Dean pated them on the shoulder while passing by on his way back to the Hotel. The stroll back was quiet and subdued. Sam sneaked a peek into the great room to check on the gathering. Chuck seemed to fare quite badly but everyone was safe. He nodded to tell him it was all good, at the Prophet's great relief. They parted before the stairs, Dean made a beeline to the shower, clean the dirt.
The aid kit being in the bathroom, Sam fished back his phone and retrieved the mail Gabriel had send him in the morning.
"Sam,
"I don't know how to make you understand, but: Stop trying too hard. You've done it already, didn't end well did it?
"When will you realize that Hell damaged him but did not make him weak? You did, when you started pretending he has nothing to give you anymore.
"He needs you, needs to be a big brother: it's the only thing he has left.
"Remember, he is four years ahead of you. It doesn't mean you will always have to run after his back. It means he has lived things, known people, you didn't, and won't.
"See Ya.
"G
It was blunt, and harsh. Gabriel was not a tactful one, but Sam could understand the concern behind it. And he did give him some good advice. He had never seen Dean wear the expression he had when talking about their mother, the golden days when she was still alive.
He made sure Dean was still under the shower before dialing the number. Gabriel picked-up after the second ring.
_ You do know it is way past curfew Samsquatsh?
_ Long day; had to put a few angry ghosts to sleep.
_ You two ok?
_ Scratches, bumps, nothing serious. T'wasn't why I called.
_ So why then?
_ To say thank you about... you know. Worked better than I thought it would.
_ Well... that's the point, isn't it? I help you with your brother, and you both help me with mine. Plural.
Sam felt a pinch somewhere. He was still mad at Gabriel for the Mystery Spot, but he had liked the time they had spent talking. A billion years old being, willing to talk and share bits and bouts, could have make for lots of interesting evenings.
_ Yeah... something like that.
_ I sounded cold just there, did I?
_ I guess so. I get it, don't need to be friend to work together.
_ You want to be friend with me?" Gabriel's voice was softer, but heavily tinged with something like incredulity.
_ Dunno, t'would be nice to have someone to talk with." He half mumbled, a bit peeved.
Silence...
_ You have your brother." The archangel reminded him hesitantly.
_ Right now, it's not that easy, he still resent me for all that Lilith, Apocalypse, not listening to him thing. We are on the mend but such things take time to heal: there is too much history, sometimes, some things you just can't.
There was, again, only silence at the other end, but Sam knew Gabriel was listening. He huffed a laugh.
_ I learned more about mom today than in twenty-six years.
_ How come?
There was genuine surprise in the angel's tone, at least as far as he could tell.
_ Well, dad never spoke about her, to anyone. Dean caught on that. But sometimes I was able to catch some glances between them, whenever something must have reminded them of her, but I could never ask, or else... Last time I dared say her name, Dean almost punched me in the face. Like she was some sacred ground I was not allowed to cross.
He let his voice drop. Having seated himself by the opened window, he gazed at the sky.
_ Well, I... kind of understand, her death is on me after all.
_ Now you're talking nonsense kiddo! I'll hang up.
_ Wait!
The shout made him freeze, but the shower was still heard.
_ I... don't mean I feel responsible, I was six months old. Or, maybe a little... I mean: to them, I was... I am the reason they lost her. The worst thing being how many times dad berated me for not caring enough about avenging her, not being as obsessed as they were. How was I supposed to? I never knew her... I barely even know what she looked like.
He leaned back his head against the frame, he was glad he finally learned a bit about their mother, but the loss was becoming greater too.
_ Mothers really are something...
_ Where did that come from?
He told Gabriel about the Grove case.
_ Mothers really are scary and incredible, or scarily incredible when it comes to look after their kids." He concluded. Then added: "Dean always tried so hard to step in dad's shoes. Now, when I think about it, I'm pretty sure he's quite like mom. To me at least, he has been more of a mother hen than anything else.
He frowned.
_ Never tell him I said that! Or I won't hear the end of it.
Gabriel laughed. It was nice to hear a non-faked laugh from him. They exchanged a few more words then hung up.
When Sam climbed down the window, he was surprised to find that Dean had left the bathroom and was standing near the drawer, some paper thingy in his hand.
He froze, mind whirling, how much did he hear? Will he get mad? That Sam called Gabriel, about the things he said? His hesitation, the minute step back he made when his brother came forward, must have been seen. There was a new crack on his brother face.
It was only when Dean was a step away Sam realized, it was a picture he had drawn out of his wallet. Silently, he took the extended picture: a beautiful blonde woman with long wavy hair, one arm around an equally blond boy's shoulders, was smiling softly at the camera.
_ She was beautiful.
Dean gave him a half smile: yeah she was, and Sam hasn't seen her when she was in her twenty's.
_ You beast.
His brother just shrugged and leaned against the wall next to him, eyeing the picture too.
_ You remember when it has been taken?
_ Not really, no. But I remember this one.
He handed him a second picture, she was holding a baby, the same young Dean next to them.
_ First picnic with Sammy. Mom had let me help with the salad.
_ Dean eating salad; must be a sight..." Sam half joked.
That earned him a punch in the shoulder that made him wince; he had landed on that shoulder an hour ago.
_ Go get clean, I'll patch you up.
Sam handed him back the pictures.
_ Thanks.
They exchanged uncertain smiles, before Sam headed to the bathroom with a change of clothes.
A quick shower later, he was in pant sweat suit, letting Dean clean the few scratches on his back and sew a gash on his left side. Somehow, it took longer than it should have. Well... Sam wouldn't complain.
While tending to his little brother, Dean was thinking about something quite different, thus slowing down his movements. Sure, Sam has kept things from him, important and dangerous things, that led them to the mess they actually were in.
But somehow, he and dad might have something to do with it. Neither had ever been very forthcoming with... anything... Don't ask, don't tell was almost as much a family moto as the family business.
And there were a few things he hadn't told Sam either. Things that might not shed a great light on themselves, but important things; namely, his trip in the future. He would just have to hope that Sam wouldn't resent him for calling him back because he feared that he would say 'yes' to Lucifer if not under his watch. Sam was touchy that way sometimes.
He came to his decision with the last stitches; got up, craning his neck. The shower had helped but shoveling made his back quite stiff.
_ Sam there is something I have to tell you.
He almost jumped when a large hand landed on his neck. Sam didn't move, didn't say anything. He contented himself with just letting his hand there and wait. For Dean to let him.
Curious, he settled and let Sam do whatever he wanted. His thumb dug softly into Dean's neck, rubbing in slow circles, sending shivers down his spine. The circles grew larger and stronger, down his shoulders. How weird, Sam volunteering for a massage.
Well, at least, he wouldn't have to face him while talking. He let Sam guide him to the chair and seat cowboy like, his arms crossed over the backrest.
He waited after Sam was done moving carefully his head in all direction, craning his neck, tugging a bit to loosen up the spine, before he started to talk: Zachariah coming in his sleep to convince him to say yes, one more time, the future, waking in a Croatoan infested city, the military, Zach, again giving him the outline of the state of the world, Bobby dead.
His future self, hard hearted, obsessed and authoritarian, running his group like a tyrant.
_ Dad would have been proud.
So much bitterness, it made him shiver. And definitely not the powerful hands actually murdering his shoulders, painfully digging into the flesh, elongating the muscles.
He added the way his future-self had no trust, in anyone, killing his own without a blink, torturing without remorse, knowingly sending them into a trap... He did let aside the panties thingy.
Chuck, still there, God knows how he survived, maybe because the Prophet had to be there, to tell the story, till the End. For who to read?, there was no hope for any future there.
He hissed when Sam dug his palm in a thigh knot. If he had any tough about the massage being awkward, they were all gone. Sam wasn't going easy on his back, nor his arms, bending and kneading with strength.
He went back to the story: Sam lost in Detroit. The Colt finally found. His future talking about shooting him without a blink.
And Cass, human, broke down to pieces, feeling useless, drugs and sex addict, but still willing to fight and die for a Dean who didn't even gave a fuck about him, and whom he didn't trust that much any longer. Loyal to a fault, to a cause that didn't have any meaning anymore.
Their trip together, to the final round, the few human still standing with a Colt versus Lucifer wearing his destined meat suit. The angels had bailed, deserted Earth and gave up humanity to Lucifer.
The final showdown, the trap, Cass as bait, to give them a chance to get a shot. His future-self knocking him out to prevent him from interfering, his neck broken with Sam's shoe, Lucifer's shoe. He skipped through the end though. Too painful to delve on.
Toward the end of his tell, Sam has splayed his hand over Dean's shoulder blade, just resting there, warm and strong, comforting trough the fabric of his Tee-shirt. And they stayed there, without a word for a while.
_ You are stupid.
Dean scoffed. So far for the support.
_ You should have told it long before Dean. Maybe not to me if you were too afraid I would resent you for calling me back mostly because you wanted to keep me under your watch and away from Detroit. But at least to Bobby.
Dean's shoulder sagged, unbalancing Saw who had to lean over him to get his setting back. He was well aware of that. Recalling and retelling those three days had him see things he hadn't paid enough attention to before; too caught up with the urge to get his baby brother back.
_ I know that Sam. That's why I'm telling you now: to get a second reading.
_ The most obvious: stay away from Detroit, don't say yes to the Devil, make sure the croatoan infection doesn't start.
Sam started slow and pensive whilst his hand crept up Dean's neck to massage his scalp. God that felt good too. Better not get too used of it or he would get soft.
_ Since it would probably be Pestilence handiwork, it kind of join what G... Loki told me : we need to stop solely focusing on Lucifer and go after the Horsemen as soon as possible.
_ I don't really agree. Better get the big boss down first.
The hands stopped in retaliation, he grunted out of dismay and they started again. Oh ! he could hear his brother smug smile from there.
_ You've seen it Dean, once the plague starts spreading, there is no cure; and Devil or not, we are all screwed. Lucifer and his demons might do some damage while we go after the Horsemen but then they could be stopped. At least the demons since we don't really know what to do with Lucifer himself.
Well... said like that...
_ On the off side, angels will be pretty useless to us. We... mostly you, should remind Cass that he has more to himself than just his angel mojo. Did you get to see the most important hot spots ?
Dean nodded sideways, he has seen a few of them, but didn't think to ask about the starting point(s) of it all.
_ You had many things on your mind, we'll see with what we got and go on with that. Bobby's good with that kind of things.
_ We can't count on Bobby for everything Sam. He has his own life.
_ We have to count on anyone who might help Dean. Or we'll lose. Humanity will lose.
Dean didn't agree, it felt too much like he had failed somewhere.
_ There is something else on your mind.
Sam sighed and dropped his hands before circling around to sit on the closest corner of the bed. Dean was feeling almost liquid after such ministration.
_ I... am starting to doubt whether the Colt could be of any use against Lucifer.
_ What!
_ It doesn't make sense. The angels were gone, no-one to guard Heaven, and even Hell wouldn't be easily accessed. So why would they move the Colt around on Earth instead of hiding it somewhere you can't reach if not to keep you focused on some kind of wild goose chase. And let you get it when the world would be beyond redemption to finish it all.
Maybe it was time to stow his pride, there was definitely more in two heads than one. Because that had never crossed his mind.
_ Is there anything that can kill him then?
_ If there is, it's probably something as old as them, something you can't find on Earth. And I highly doubt 'Loki' will let us try and kill him unless everything else has failed. It's his brother after all, he must want to at least try to get him back one last time before giving up.
On one hand, Dean could relate to that, he would burn the world before giving up on Sam. On the other hand they were talking about the Devil! and a major threat to Sam.
And your brother almost became a demon...
It was breaking his head.
A loud yawn drew him from his thoughts. Sam was stretching and started to undo the bed.
_ I don't know you, but I got a long day and I'd like to sleep.
That Dean could agree with. Still, he wondered what had gotten him to ask for one king. At least, the bed was enormous enough for both of them to spread without bumping into each other. Except that Sam had installed himself square in the middle of the bed, but Dean was too tired to glare. He settled on his side.
_ Dean, I'm not gonna bite you.
_ My.. who knew you were such a tease dear husband?
_What?
Sam sounding both disgruntled and half asleep was funny.
_Isn't massage supposed to be a prelude to others things?
He scouted quietly toward the middle of the bed, a smile on his lips; he could hear Sam blushing.
_I just thought that you might sleep better if a bit more relaxed.
_ Ok. Thank you, sweetheart.
He landed a kiss on the stubble cheek as a finishing blow.
_ Jerk!
What did Sam say last time?...
_ Yours, so it doesn't really matter.
He felt Sam's breath catch under his hand, then even slowly.
_ Good night Dean.
His stomach unknotted when a large paw came over his hand.
So this was where Sam was drawing the line, Teddy Bear ok, but no sweetheart. Dean didn't really knew whether he was relieved or...
Time to sleep. He was thinking too weird for his own sake.
Why do I love to 'see' them cuddle so much?
By the way, if you have any question or comment, unlike Sam, I don't bite.
