Chapter Seven: Serve The Servants
As my bones grew they did hurt
They hurt really bad
I tried to have a father
But instead I had a dad
I just want you to know that I
Don't hate you anymore
There is nothing that I could say
That I haven't thought before
-'Serve The Servants' by Nirvana
I couldn't help but pace around the living room, waiting for my father to show up. He had called to let me know he was about a half-hour away and I grew more and more nervous with each passing minute.
Jim was sitting on the couch, drinking tea and looking calm and collected. Bobby and Rufus were also there, the former was seated beside the Pastor and the latter was in the kitchen, the chair he was occupying leaned back on its rear legs.
Sam was in his usual chair, watching me walk back and forth.
Maybe this isn't such a good idea, I thought, I should never have told Dad where we are.
I stared at my brother- he was wearing that grey hoodie and a pair of faded blue jeans- and I couldn't help but notice he was still very thin, had bruised-looking eyes and the cast on his wrist.
What's Dad going to think when he sees Sam like this? I wondered desperately, knowing my Dad was going to ask questions I'd have to fake answers for.
"Dean, relax," Bobby muttered, "Yer makin' me nervous."
I stopped pacing and ran a hand through my hair.
"You okay, Sammy?" I asked and made my way over to my brother.
Sam nodded but I caught a hint of fear in his expression. It had been months since he'd last seen Dad and I was sure they hadn't parted ways on good terms. I was sure Mom had probably dragged Dad to Alexander's for a short, tense visit for everyone. I knew Mom tried really hard to get Dad to go with her, every time she visited Sam, but more often than not she'd end up visiting my brother by herself.
I wished Mom was coming with Dad. She would have made this a whole lot easier. I felt guilt sink heavily in my stomach thinking about the funeral and the fact that Sam hadn't been there.
I felt my brother tug at my sleeve and I looked down, "What do I say?"
I smiled, "How about: Hey, Dad. Long time, no see!"
I tensed up when a sound of a car's tires crunching on the gravel driveway filled the quiet front room.
My gaze turned to the Pastor as I thought: He's here already!?
Should I get the door right now? Before Dad has time to get to it?
He's your father; Jim's expression said.
This is your house; I countered, silently.
A sharp knock put an end to our muted argument. I froze in place, now completely unsure of what to do. I felt like a rookie who'd been asked to face off against a gunman on his first day on the job.
Jim moved first. He stood, adjusted his dark purple button-up shirt and went to the door.
I just stood beside my brother and stared, I'm sure my mouth was gaping open like a goldfish's.
I heard a short conversation ensue; I could distinguish my father's rough tones over the Pastor's soft ones, and prayed that Jim would tell Dad that there had been a mistake, that Sam and I weren't here.
Jim moved to one side to let my father inside. I saw him wipe his feet on the mat in the entranceway and shake his head when the Pastor offered to take his coat.
Sam's fingers had crept around my wrist and were now clinging on for dear life as though my brother thought Dad would spirit him away as soon as look at him.
I tried without success to pry my brother's hand off my arm and grimaced more than smiled as my Dad stepped into the room.
He cut an imposing figure; tall, though not as tall as Sammy, with broad shoulders belying the football player he'd been in his youth, square jawed, with an aquiline nose, large dark brown eyes and black hair that was just beginning to show grey at the temples. All in all he could have been some sort of ancient Roman general or emperor or something like that.
Dad took in the room- the furniture, bookshelves, gramophone with a critical eye.
"Dad," I began but paused. His gaze landed on me and I stepped forward, my brother's hand slipping from my wrist.
"Uh, glad you could make it," I said and gave a self-conscious smile.
"Hm," Dad grunted, "So this is where you've been hiding out."
"Dad…" I cautioned, hoping that he wouldn't start in on where we'd been or what we'd been doing the past three months.
"Hey, what're we, furniture?" Bobby's gruff voice interrupted in the nick of time.
Bobby and Rufus approached my father and I.
"Robert Singer," he held a hand out to Dad, "But folks call me Bobby."
"Rufus Turner," the black hunter introduced himself.
"John Winchester," Dad said and shook each man's hand in turn.
Dad still seemed uneasy, perhaps because the three hunters who were my friends looked old enough to hang out with him instead of me.
"Would you like something to drink, John? We have soda, juice, tea-" Jim began but Dad waved the offer away.
"I'm fine, Father," Dad said and I stifled a chuckle.
"Actually I'm a Pastor, but John, please call me Jim," he gave a faint smile and I forced my expression to remain neutral.
My father didn't seem to notice that Jim was making fun of him- as his gaze shifted again to land on Sam- and stepped toward my brother.
"Sam," Dad spoke a little bit too forcefully; I saw Sam flinch ever so slightly but look at our father hopefully.
"It's been… too long, son," Dad said hesitantly.
Sam nodded but I saw him wringing his hands nervously.
Dad moved until he was standing in front of my brother. I saw Dad's jaw tighten momentarily but then he relaxed.
"Sam, I just want to say…" Dad paused to clear his throat, "I want you to know that I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I know that none of this is your fault and I was wrong to blame your for something you had no control over."
I crossed my arms. I was sure Dad was lying through his teeth. People didn't change just like that. I decided to bite my tongue though and see how this played out, if only for Sam's sake. I mean, the kid hadn't seen Dad in months and I didn't want to give our old man the bum's rush before my brother actually got any time with him.
Sam nodded, unsure of how to reply and picked at a loose thread at the sleeve of his hoodie.
My brother's gaze sought mine and I could see the unspoken question, 'what am I supposed to say, Dean?'
I shrugged. If it had been me, I would have torn Dad a new one for being a dick for so many months… but Sammy wasn't like that, I knew he'd never give Dad a hard time for the way he'd been behaving.
"Well, uh, you're here now," Sam muttered and that hopeful expression crossed his face again.
Our father chuckled, "I am, son. I am. I swear I'm going to make it up to you too."
I looked around and noticed that but for the three of us, the living room was empty- the hunters must have decided to give us some privacy.
They're probably holed-up in Jim's computer room, I thought.
Dad must have noticed Sam's injured hand because I saw his lips grow thin and his eyes narrow.
Shit, I thought, time for a little damage control.
"What happened to your wrist, Sam?" Dad asked in that familiar accusatory tone he reserved only for his youngest.
"I uh, fell, yeah… Dean and I were taking a hike and I tripped over a rock… pretty clumsy of me, eh?" Sam blurted out and laughed nervously.
Dad stared for a long moment at Sam's wrist and fingers that were still in splints- they could really come off soon- and asked me if that was, in fact, what had happened.
"Yeah," I assured him, "Remember the time Sam smashed his face into the handlebars of his mountain bike? Split his lip something awful and chipped a couple of teeth! Mom wouldn't let him ride again for a month!"
Dad nodded. Surely he was recalling the sight his twelve-year old son being pulled along by his sixteen-year old brother, blood running down his chin and tears running down his cheeks.
Sam had always been notorious for being clumsy, uncoordinated and really accident prone. I always joked that it was because he'd grown so tall so fast, but I think it was just the way Sam was. Didn't seem to stop him from doing the things he loved though. He had never been one of those 'bubble-wrap' kids who are afraid of sleeping in a bunk-bed or something because they might fall; Sammy just got over the bumps and scrapes and kept up with me, sometimes even outdoing me.
Dad seemed to believe the latest exploit of the Incredible Clumsy Boy and nodded saying that Sam should really be more careful, watch where he was going, etc. etc.
I relaxed a little bit, deciding to get Dad's attention off Sam somewhat.
"What have you been up to? Thinking of retiring yet?" I asked the question I always did whenever I saw my Dad. He had been working as a mechanic at the same shop since we'd moved to Utica and didn't appear to have any thoughts of retirement yet.
Dad shook his head, "Bills don't pay themselves, Dean."
"But you should have a good pension by now, you're at the garage all the time," I countered, slightly angrily. Yeah, Dad had better have been at the garage all the times he said he had been, too busy with work to come see Sammy.
Dad frowned, "Not all of us are unionized."
"Dean, Dad please don't fight," Sam's small voice brought my attention to him. He was staring up at us, his green eyes large and wet.
Dad looked like he wanted to tell Sam to grow up but he held his tongue.
I should have known better than to raise my voice, should have realized it'd make Sammy uncomfortable, nervous.
I went to Sam's side, ignoring my Dad for the moment, and spoke instead to my brother, "You okay Sammy? Do you want something to drink? I'll get you a glass of water."
Sam nodded and I made my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. I checked the wall clock and decided it wouldn't hurt to give Sam his meds.
At least this will show Dad I can take care of Sam, I thought as I uncapped the multiple prescription bottles and tipped the corresponding capsules onto the counter.
When I returned to the living room, Dad was standing with his arms crossed, "He's thin, is Sam eating enough?"
I nodded, "I'm making sure he's getting three meals a day."
"Some of the meds cause weight loss, Dad," I explained and handed the mug to Sam. I held my hand out and my brother took the pills, one by one, washing them down with the water.
"How long are you planning on staying here?" Dad wanted to know.
I shrugged, "Until we've worn out our welcome, I guess."
Dad grumbled. I didn't like to be evasive but I knew I couldn't let slip anything that might give away exactly where Sam had been for the past three months- a dungeon of a basement, held captive by a couple of sadistic demons and Johns Hopkins- because if I did that, I knew that Dad would take Sam straight back to Alexander's, support group or not.
"How do you know those guys?" Dad asked, one eyebrow lifted with curiosity. I was glad that the topic had shifted away from Sam and moved to something I could easily lie about.
Before I could answer though, I noticed that my brother had become fidgety- he kept shifting his position on the chair and chewed on a thumbnail- and I turned my attention to Sam.
"What's wrong, Sam?" I asked and he froze as though he'd been caught out.
"Nothing," Sam muttered and looked up at me with his 'puppy eyes' expression.
Dad moved across the room until he stood beside me, staring down at Sam as though trying to decide what to do with him.
"Have you been sleeping?" Dad rapped out and Sam nodded quickly.
"Dad, right now is not the time to discuss Sam's health so piss off!" I growled and reached out to Sam.
My brother grabbed my wrist as I muttered, "What's up?"
Pulling me close so he could whisper, Sam told me what the matter was. I almost laughed in relief. Kid had to go to the washroom.
"One minute, Dad," I said with a smile and led Sam down the hall to the first floor half-bath.
Our father looked after us curiously but then seemed to realize what was going on and frowned, disapproving of Sam's behaviour.
I just rolled my eyes; better Sam tell me than wait until his poor bladder explodes from the pressure.
I knew what Dad was unimpressed about though, he hated it when Sam acted out-of-the-ordinary or like he'd been institutionalized. He hated that my brother asked for permission to do anything.
The way I saw it, I think it just gave Dad the heebie-jeebies that Sam wasn't independent anymore, like he was a little boy again.
The bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out. We walked down the short hallway and Sam returned to his seat. I crossed my arms and stared expectantly at our Dad.
"Don't you get tired of it, Dean?" Dad asked, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Tired of what, looking after Sammy?" I countered as though there wasn't anything to think about.
"It's like looking after a child! Don't you get tired, embarrassed?" Dad asked and I saw Sam cringe at the meaning of the words.
I fought to quench the anger that was starting to rise up, "I thought that support group thing was helping you."
"Of all the parents there, many have kids in institutions, Dean, and they talk about what it's like to know that," Dad explained.
"But that's not much different from you, is it? Most of the time Sammy's at Alexander's and the rest of the time he's with me," I spat, "You only see him when you have to, when Mom invited him for the holidays when he's well enough to be out!"
"Do you plan on taking care of your brother for the rest of your life?" Dad asked seriously.
"I'm not going to have this conversation with you," I growled, "It's no business of yours what Sam and I do."
Dad's expression matched my own for pent-up anger, "It is my business because Sam is my son and I am the one who makes decisions for him, not you, Dean."
I snorted with indignation, "And you're doing a bang-up job about it too!"
"Dean, Dr. Calhoun is very concerned about Sam," Dad tried to use reason.
Sam's eyes grew large and pleading.
"Than she can come here and take Sam back to Alexander's herself," I challenged.
My Dad wiped a hand over his face, "Dean, don't you want Sam to get better?"
Hackles raised, I exclaimed, "He is getting better! He's been better since he got out of that hospital!"
Dad didn't look the slightest bit convinced.
"You can't know that for sure!" Dad countered, "You are not a doctor, Dean!"
"Screw doctors! I know Sam better than anyone in that shitty hospital!" I growled.
I knew that shouting wasn't going to solve anything but neither did sitting down and having a polite discussion with my Dad apparently because he hadn't yet changed his tune.
"Dean, Sam needs to be in a hospital," Dad continued.
"Why, Dad? Can you give me one solid answer as to why Sammy should spend the rest of his life stuck in Alexander's?" I growled.
"He's still acting… weird… like he's still at the hospital," Dad commented.
I sighed and looked over at my brother. He was watching us, his green eyes large and dark.
"Sam always acts like that," I said softly, trying not to make it sound like a bad thing.
Dad shook his head and looked at Sam like he was somehow less of a human because he was sick.
I clenched my hands into fists and took a deep breath to keep from socking my father in the jaw.
"Why did you come here, Dad? You said you'd turned over a new leaf and wanted to start over with Sam but as far as I can tell we're right back to square one," I told him, completely bewildered, though not surprised, by my father's lies.
Dad ran a hand through his hair and sighed, actually looking apologetic, "I know and I'm trying, Dean, but old habits die hard I guess."
I snorted humourlessly.
"I just don't want anything to happen to Sam," Dad continued when I didn't answer, "I don't want him to be disappointed with a world that's not going to understand him. You know what people are like, you just mention the words 'mental' and 'illness' in the same sentence and they think you're related to either Hannibal Lector or Raymond Babbitt."
I nodded; I couldn't argue with that. That was the very reason I had only told Jimmy about Sam and kept everyone else at the station, Captain Baggot included, out of the loop.
"Dad, I understand, and I don't want Sam to get hurt as much as you… but he can't stay in hospitals the rest of his life… he's not happy there and he needs to get out and live," I reasoned, agreeing with my father but also trying to sway his opinion.
Dad turned to look at Sam as if seeing him for the first time.
I bit my lip; I wasn't sure if Dad really was trying to get over the whole 'my son has schizophrenia' thing or not. I hoped that my Dad wasn't just lying through his teeth to get what he wanted.
I was starting to think that this was a really bad idea, inviting my Dad here. I hated fighting in front of Sam, talking about him like he wasn't there… then again; he probably got a lot of that at Alexander's.
I rubbed my face with my hands, only realizing now how tired I was.
"Can we discuss this later, Dad?" I asked, hoping he would give in.
Our father nodded and sat down on Jim's couch across from Sammy.
"It is good to see you boys… you and Sam," Dad ventured, looking apologetic and morose.
I bit my tongue to keep from asking what I really wanted to: If it had been so hard on Dad to be away from us, from Sam than why didn't he make more of an effort on his part?
Don't push him, Dean; I warned myself. Dad's on a roll so just let him do his thing and keep quiet.
Sam seemed to relax a bit at Dad's words and I hoped our father wouldn't say anything else to mess it up.
Dad looked chagrined and spoke again. I held my breath.
"I'm sorry… I know I've been acting like a prick but I do care about you… and I just want to see you get better, Sammy, I really do."
Dad's words were lost to my brother and really I knew that no matter how much our father claimed he wanted Sam to get better I knew that Sam's illness would be a lifelong thing, there was no 'getting better' from schizophrenia. Sam could cope with it, control it with medication and therapy but it could not be cured. I hoped that Dad understood that.
I watched as Sam nodded, looking like he really was okay with Dad again. I wanted to shake my brother for being so naïve. I wanted to tell Sam that Dad didn't really understand him, didn't understand what was wrong and would just as soon dump him in a hospital again when Dad felt he couldn't control Sam anymore.
I gritted my teeth but held my tongue. I didn't want to start another argument, especially in front of my brother.
Never should have let him know where we were, I chastised myself bitterly.
Oh well, now I just had to make sure my Dad didn't say or do anything stupid.
W
I took a chance and left Sam alone with Dad. Truthfully I was only in the kitchen, yards away but I didn't want to seem like I was hovering.
I grabbed the well-used kettle and filled it with water, setting it on the stove I waited for it to boil.
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms, listening in on the silence between my brother and father.
Dad was sitting across from Sam, he was leaning forward and was talking to my brother but I couldn't hear what he was saying.
The whistling of the kettle distracted me and I turned to pour the water into the teapot when I heard an awful thud and a strangled cry from my brother.
Still clutching the handle of the kettle in one hand, I whirled around to see Sam was sitting haphazardly on the floor before his chair with my father standing over him.
"What the fuck are you do-" I cried out as I rushed forward, dropping the kettle and spilling boiling water all over the kitchen floor. My enraged question was cut off when Dad turned to me and held a hand out; I found myself flying across the living room as though attached to invisible wires only to land heavily beside my brother.
Stunned, I peered up at my Dad, ignoring Sam's death-grip on my arm.
"What the fuck?" I managed to make out and tried to stand up, only to feel pressure holding me down.
"Ah ah ah, you're not going anywhere," Dad (or not Dad) said in a patronizing tone.
It was only then that I noticed the twisted smile on my father's face and his eyes flashed from their usual dark brown to pitch-black.
"No," I whispered and then, shouted, "Bobby!"
I heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall and all three men rushed into the living room.
The demon, however, was ready for them.
Jim was lifted up and slammed bodily into his bookshelf- heavy tomes crashing down onto his still body.
Bobby was knocked over the couch- the piece of furniture turning over with his weight- not on top of him, I hoped.
Rufus' feet seemed to have been swept out from under him and he crumpled in the doorway.
The demon smiled and turned back to Sam and I, "There, the whole gang's here now."
"Get the fuck out of our father you fucking cocksucker!" I snapped, trying to glare literal daggers at the monster.
The demon frowned, "You talk far too much. I don't like you."
I tried to reply but found I couldn't utter a peep! I turned to Sam and he just stared back at me with wide eyes. My brother was still clutching my arm and I was sure I'd have bruises by the time he let go but I didn't care. Even if I couldn't speak, there was no way I was letting this demon hurt my brother.
The demon put his hands behind his back and took a deep breath.
"I'm really surprised at you three," he commented, talking now to Jim, Bobby and Rufus. I was pretty sure that Rufus was the only one listening because the former mentioned hunters looked out cold.
The demon chuckled, "Here I was thinking that this place would be harder to get into than Fort Knox but you… you actually invited me in! I thought that three veteran hunters would have more sense than that- you know, cover the place with salt and traps- but noooo… all I have to do is shimmy into this guy and I'm welcomed in like jolly old Saint Nick himself!"
"What do you want?" Rufus asked, looking about as happy as if Santa Claus had actually been possessed by some hell spawn.
"What I want? Hmmm," the demon paused dramatically and tapped a finger to his lips, "What I want is to rip out your insides and force-feed them to you."
Our Dad, er, the demon that was possessing our Dad, turned to me, "I think I'll start with you first."
Still unable to talk, I gritted my teeth hard enough to make an uncomfortable grinding sound- like I was chewing on gravel- and threw one hand up in a rude gesture.
The demon took a step forward but before it could act, Sam threw himself in front of me and glared up at the monster.
The demon paused, looking like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, before flicking one hand and sending Sam skidding across the floor.
Sam! I shouted in my head and tried desperately to go to him. Sam sat up, looking a little dazed but otherwise not too hurt.
"Dean!" Sam shouted and flung himself at the demon before the monster could move again.
The two of them went down in a heap and all I could think was that my brother was going to get himself killed.
The demon threw Sam away from him. My brother hit his head on the table the gramophone sat on and stayed down.
The demon stood, brushing Dad's shirt off, looking pissed.
"Why are you here? I'd have thought you've have some other reason for this visit other than playing Ultimate Fighting with these boys," Rufus chimed in.
The demon grinned, "I'm a demon. You're hunters. Is there any other reason?"
As if to put emphasis on this the demon's gaze turned in my direction and he clenched a hand into a fist and I couldn't breathe.
I choked, unable to draw breath. My hands went to my throat but I was still unable to do anything.
"Dean!" I heard Sam cry out
"You stay where you are- Meg n' Barclay already did a number on you and I doubt anybody will be happy if you end up with more bruises," the demon flung a hand out and Sam seemed frozen to the spot.
Shit, shit, shit, shit; went through my brain as I sat there being choked by some fucked-up demon who'd been pretending to be my father for the past hour and thirty-five minutes.
"No, Dean! Please don't kill him!" Sam begged from his position across the room.
The demon turned to my brother- Sam's green eyes were large and watery, still a little bit sunken but otherwise looking like they belonged to some cute, fuzzy critter- and unclenched his fist.
I breathed in a gulp of air with gratitude- nothing had ever tasted as sweet as the old, slightly dusty atmosphere of Jim's rectory- and promptly started hacking as though I'd been smoking since I was five.
"As fun as it would be to choke the life out of you right now, I guess I can wait," the monster frowned, "I may be a demon but I'm sure that even the Devil himself wouldn't be able to say no to that face."
Sam's tears had welled up and were down streaming down his face. He truly did look adorable, in a pathetic kind of way.
"But that doesn't mean that you're off-limits if we should meet in the future," the demon assured me.
"Fuck you," I gasped and the demon chuckled.
"Besides, what fun would it be to take you out so early in the game? The good part is just about to start!" The demon grinned- a very unnerving expression on my father's face- and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
That caught my attention; from the corner of my eye I saw Rufus struggle to sit up a little straighter, his frown deepening.
"'The good part'? What's that supposed t'mean?" Rufus barked.
The demon grinned so widely it seemed as if his face was going to split in half.
"Now why do you want to go and spoil the big surprise?" the demon asked.
"If you or any of those other bastards come near my brother I swear to God I will kill every last one of you!" I snapped and was flung into the kitchen for my efforts.
I slid across the floor slick with water from the kettle- no longer boiling, thank God- and slammed into the cupboards.
"I thought I shut you up," the demon turned its dark eyes on me.
I wanted to make some sort of comeback but decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and let Rufus handle it- he was the veteran after all- and pushed myself up against the cupboards, wringing my wet shirt out onto the linoleum floor.
The demon looked about as smug as anyone could get- and I could only imagine that it would soon get bored of flinging me around the house and start on its original threat of eviscerating all of us.
Before the monster could get to its grisly work though, it froze and suddenly began to cough up thick black smoke. I stared wide-eyed as the demon's (my Dad's) expression turned to one of fear and the smoke continued to pour out of it, heavily, making its way toward the floor only to dissipate with a faint crackle of lightning and a rotten egg smell.
Dad collapsed to the ground and I rushed in to see if he was still breathing.
Please be okay; I thought as I frantically checked for a pulse.
I sagged with relief when I felt my Dad's heart beating strongly.
Rufus picked himself up and began checking on Bobby and Jim.
Sam! I turned to my brother and saw him sitting where the demon had flung him, his face pale and tear-stained, his eyes glassy with shock.
"Sammy, are you okay? Are you hurt?" I crouched down in front of him.
"No," my brother whispered, distractedly.
"You're not okay or you're not hurt?" I asked and began checking for injuries.
"'Mm not hurt," Sam slurred.
"You sure?" I asked because I wasn't completely sure myself.
I put one hand on the side of Sam's face and turned his head so that he was looking in my direction.
"Dad's eyes were… they were black, Dean… why were they black?" Sam whispered disjointedly.
"It's okay, Sammy," I tried to sooth, rubbing along his cheek with my thumb.
"They were like… Meg had eyes like that…" Sam continued and I gulped down a lump in my throat, "I thought it was… you know," Sam's hand wavered around the side of his head for a moment, "but I guess not."
Well, the cat's out of the bag now; I thought glumly. There was no way I was going to be able to think up a feasible lie.
"Well if it weren't Jim or you, than whom in God's name done that?" Bobby's gruff voice interrupted us.
"I told you, Bobby, the demon had me pinned in the hallway and besides that, there wasn't a trap of any sort under the thing and I wasn't about to go shouting Latin at it," Rufus grouched, "It was pissed enough already as it was."
I craned my neck over my shoulder and saw Pastor Jim looking at me curiously.
"Don't look at me," I said, "I didn't do it."
I turned my attention back to my brother and a sudden idea came to me with a jolt.
"Sam," I said cautiously, "Did you make that black smoke leave Dad?" I explained it as simply as possible.
My brother's eyes widened, "NO!"
Sam's expression said that the very idea of doing something like exorcising a demon from our father would send him into a panic attack.
Of course Sam didn't exorcise that demon, I thought; he doesn't even know about demons. There would be no way in hell my brother could exorcise a demon without a Devil's trap and a book of Latin, right?
The trio of hunters had moved over and was helping Dad up; he still seemed out of it but was slowly regaining a sense of his surroundings.
"You're gonna be okay, John," Bobby gripped Dad's shoulder as he and Jim guided him to the couch- now put back in its rightful position.
I gave Sam one for good look-over before going to my father. I sat on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder as the hunters backed off- Jim went to Sam and Bobby and Rufus began putting the books that had fell from the bookcase back.
"Dad," I shook his shoulder slightly, "Dad, do you hear me?"
My father's face looked haggard, like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Dean?" Dad whispered, his voice was hoarse, "Where'm I?"
"It's alright, Dad," I reassured him, keeping a secure grip on his shoulder.
Dad's pallid face slowly regained some colour, his dazed eyes beginning to focus sharply.
After a halting glance around the living room, Dad repeated his question, only more articulately than before, "Where are we? How did I get here?"
I took a deep breath, "What's the last thing you remember?"
Dad looked at me quizzically, "I was, uh, putting gas in the car… just outside of Chicago and then… nothing… the last thing I remember is stepping outside the gas station after paying."
My father still looked confused- of course he did! - wondering how he managed to get from Illinois' most famous city to wherever here was.
"We're in Blue Earth," I supplied, even though I hadn't been asked, "Minnesota."
Dad shook his head as though to clear it.
"We?" he asked and blinked as he looked around.
I shifted so Dad could see Sam and Jim.
"Sammy?" Dad whispered as if he didn't quite believe that my brother was there.
I saw Sam look up and over at us curiously; Jim was crouched at his side, one comforting hand on my brother's forearm.
I gave a quick 'C'mere' motion with my free hand and Sam stood cautiously.
Jim held back as my brother came forward and I guided him to sit down beside Dad; standing before the both of them, myself.
Dad stared at Sam for a moment, as though not quite believing he was really in front of him.
Then, Dad did something I did not expect. He leaned forward and pulled Sam into a strong hug. Sam's look of surprise almost made me laugh out loud but I managed to hold it in.
"It's been too long, son," Dad whispered against Sam's shoulder and I suddenly felt as though I was interrupting something private.
When the two of them pulled apart, I could have sworn I saw tears shimmer in my Dad's eyes.
"Are you okay, Dad?" I asked, thinking he was feeling wonky from the demon possession.
My father nodded.
"What happened?" Dad asked and I gulped. How was I going to explain to my father that he'd just spent close to ten hours possessed by a demon?
I turned to the three hunters; "You just look after your brother," Jim said softly.
"Sammy, c'mon let's get you upstairs," I tugged at his hand, "You need some rest."
Sam stood and let me lead him toward the stairs before turning back and peering at our father.
"He's okay, Sammy; Jim's looking after him," I assured him and tugged at his wrist.
Sam followed obediently, saying nothing, as I led him upstairs and into his room. I sat him down on the bed and paused to look at him a moment. I still wasn't sure if he'd sustained any injury from the demon attack.
"Sam, why don't you put a clean shirt on?" I asked as I fished through the dresser drawers and found a blue t-shirt.
I hoped that my brother wouldn't put up a fight, I didn't want to force him to do anything he wasn't comfortable with… but I still wanted to make sure he was as okay as he said he was.
Sam looked from my face to the shirt in my hands and back again. He hesitated, his expression turning shy.
I held back the urge to sigh in frustration- I wanted to get back downstairs and talk with the hunters about the demon- and proffered the shirt again.
Sam reached out and took the garment from my hands. He stared at it for a moment- he was never really a t-shirt kind of guy- and set it down so he could pull the hoodie off.
I wondered what Sam was thinking; he'd said he'd seen Meg's eyes turn black and maybe he was trying to figure out how that connected to the demon who'd just been possessing our Dad.
I wondered who or what had made the demon leave our father's body- it didn't look like it was a voluntary eviction either- but there was always time to discuss that later with Jim and the others. Right now Sam and Dad were a priority.
Once my brother had slipped the hoodie off, I took a quick inventory- he didn't have any visible injuries- the scars glared harshly against his thin frame but other than that Sam appeared unharmed. There weren't even bruises from when he'd been thrown around by the demon- I guess I would call that some luck- and I made a mental note to check if I received anything from my own flight across the living room and kitchen.
I helped Sam pull the t-shirt over his head. He didn't look comfortable in the short sleeves and his hand moved toward his hoodie.
"Hang on a sec," I muttered and dug around in his duffle again before pulling out a plaid flannel shirt with long sleeves.
"That sweater should get washed," I told him and Sam slipped his arms into the flannel button-up's sleeves and left it open.
I took the hoodie and stuffed it into the wicker laundry hamper hidden inside the closet of the room. Both my brother and I were running low on clean clothes- I hadn't brought very much from my house when Bobby had told me about the demons- and decided that I'd get some laundry done later, after everything had been sorted out and everyone had calmed down.
I sat down on the bed for a moment and took a few deep breaths. I wanted to know what the hell was going on. I wanted to know why the demons were so interested in my brother, I wanted to know what we were going to do about Meg and Barclay running around scot-free, I wanted to know what we were going to do with my Dad (now that he knew that demons were real). I sighed and put my head in my hands, momentarily forgetting my brother was in the room with me.
I jumped a little when I felt Sam's thin hand touch my back and looked up to see Sam's green eyes confused yet sympathetic.
"I'm okay, Sammy," I assured him and gave my best 'don't worry about me, I'm A-OK' smile.
"M-Meg and Barclay weren't people w-were they? They were like t-that thing inside D-Dad, right?" Sam asked. He was nervous or scared, he always stuttered when that happened.
I shook my head, "No, Sam, they weren't people."
Not anymore at least, I added silently, not forgetting that somewhere there was a young girl and (probably) ex-WWE fighter trapped inside those bodies with demons in the driver's seat.
Sam looked like he didn't know if he should be relieved or frightened by this revelation.
"They're not gonna get you, Sammy. I won't let them touch you again," I told him firmly, telling myself that I would kill the two of them if they came within a stone's throw of my brother again; humans inside them or not.
Sam nodded and I hoped I'd be able to keep my promise.
"Let's go back downstairs, okay?" I suggested. Sam looked exhausted but I didn't want to let him out of my sight just yet, besides, Dad would likely have questions for us- hopefully not demon-related.
Sam followed me down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support.
He must feel a little unsure of himself right now, I thought, I would.
I recalled the feeling that had swept over me when I had learned about the existence of demons- first from Bobby and then from Jim- and it had seemed as if the world had been turned upside down, like the carpet had been yanked from under me and felt guilty that Sam should feel that way, after everything that had happened to him.
W
Sam did feel unsteady but really, the feeling was not altogether unfamiliar to him. For years, since Jessica's death, he'd been surrounded by people- doctors and family members- telling him that what he thought was true was a lie, a delusion created by his own defective brain. Oftentimes he wasn't sure what was reality and what wasn't. The only thing that he knew for certain, no matter how many medications the psychiatrists prescribed him, was that his girlfriend's death was no accident. He had been there, he had seen her! No one could tell him that Jess had died in an electrical fire because Sam was sure victims of fires caused by faulty wiring did not end up pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from wounds in their abdomens while flames spontaneously erupted and consumed them-
"Sammy, you okay? You need to sit down?" Dean's voice brought him from his thoughts and he realized he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, knuckles white on the banister.
"Uh, okay," Sam muttered and avoided his brother's concerned stare.
He allowed himself to be led to the chair that everyone seemed to think of as his. His father still sat on the couch, now looking pale under the stubble covering his cheeks and chin.
Rufus was putting the last of the volumes back onto the bookshelves and Bobby was sitting on the other chair, facing John with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped before him as though praying.
Sam could hear Jim in the kitchen, the faint sound of a boiling kettle signaled that the Pastor was making tea again.
Sam watched as his brother moved to the couch and sat down beside their father. His Dad turned to Dean and shook his head, his expression one of helpless anger, not dissimilar to the one that had been on his face when the doctor had first told them about the schizophrenia.
Only this time, his Dad didn't start yelling at Bobby or the others, he just stared at Dean as though willing him to say that what he'd experienced firsthand wasn't true.
"I- I just can't believe it… I don't want to believe-" John muttered and ran a hand through his dark hair.
"Sorry to say this Dad but demons are real," Dean said softly and Sam felt a jolt when his brother said those three words out loud- Demons. Are. Real- and suddenly he remembered where he'd seen that odd pentagram-thing before.
Sam remembered Bobby's house, the salvage yard and the drive back to Utica that had been cut short.
"Noooo," The word was drawn out in a pained moan and Dean, Dad, Bobby and Rufus all turned to stare at him.
Dean immediately stood and came over to him. Sam shook his head, "No, no, no…"
"Sam. Sammy, what is it? Are you hurt?" Dean's hand gripped his shoulder and tried to look him in the eye.
Sam's eyes were clenched tight. He suddenly felt lightheaded and dizzy and Dean's voice faded away to nothing, darkness taking over Sam as he plunged into unconsciousness…
…Sam opened his eyes and threw up violently. He head throbbed terribly and he groaned in pain as he felt warm blood seep through his hair.
Sam's gaze traveled to his brother in the driver's seat and he saw Dean's face was a blank mask.
"D'n," Sam whispered, "DEAN!"
His brother didn't answer.
Eyes traveling the interior of the car wildly, Sam took a moment to wonder why the Impala's ceiling was where the foot-wells should be. It was only then that Sam realized that he was still buckled into his seat, upside down.
Fumbling with the seatbelt, Sam's shaking fingers tried to free him but he was trembling far too much, his vision obscured by black dots that danced across his eyes.
Sam froze when he heard a sound outside the car. Footsteps! Maybe they were paramedics!
"H-help! Help!" Sam cried as loudly as he could. He heard the footfalls come to a stop just outside his side of the car.
"W-we need he-help!" Sam tried again and smiled grimly when he heard indistinguishable voices talking.
Suddenly the passenger side door was ripped off its hinges; Sam flinched at the awful screech of tearing metal and the shock of witnessing such a violent action.
Sam could see two pairs of feet in the darkness.
Someone peered down towards him; he couldn't make out their features in the gloom.
A knife came out and cut through his seatbelt and Sam fell painfully onto the roof of the car. Sam started thrashing, trying to get out of the uncomfortable, confining position when the stranger grabbed a hold of one of his flailing arms and pulled him bodily from the wreck.
Sam stared up at his saviors, still unable to see them clearly.
He opened his mouth to speak when the larger of the two silhouettes drew its foot back and booted Sam in the face, pitching him into unconsciousness…
… Sam blinked his eyes open. His brother and father were staring worriedly at him.
"Maybe he really did get hurt," Dean suggested but then gave a small smile when he saw Sam was awake again.
Dean helped Sam into a sitting position and Jim passed him a glass of water.
"Must have hit your head when that demon was throwing you around, eh?" Dean said and ruffled Sam's hair. Sam let his brother, knowing he was checking for injuries.
Sam shook his head to clear it and felt anger rise in him that his brother and father were hovering over him.
"I'm fine," Sam snapped and folded his arms around his chest protectively.
"You fainted like a little girl, Sammy," Dean, unfazed by his brother's sudden temper, smiled.
Sam shoved at Dean, pushing his brother away. He caught the look on his Dad's face and immediately felt bad. Dean was only trying to help him. Now his father was going to think he really did need to go back to Alexander's.
Sam drank the water that Jim had given him and thanked the Pastor. He sheepishly peered at his brother and father.
"What was that about, Sam?" Dean asked him and cocked a curious eyebrow.
Sam shrugged, unsure of how much he should say, especially in front of their father.
Sam took a steadying breath and looked into his older brother's hazel eyes.
"I remember, Dean. I remember what happened," Sam said slowly, hoping that he wouldn't have to extrapolate.
Sam saw his brother's mouth open slightly as though he was about to say something but no sound came out. A vertical line appeared between his eyebrows and his expression turned sad.
"Everything, Sam? How much do you remember?" Dean asked. John looked at his sons curiously but it was as though he was not there with them.
"I remember meeting Bobby and what he told us about demons… I remember the accident and… and I remember them," Sam blurted out, pausing only when he tried to form a phrase in the most subtle way he could think of.
"You remember Meg and Barclay?" Dean asked, "From… before?"
Sam nodded, "I woke up… I didn't s-see them, di-didn't know wh-who t-they were and y-you didn't w-wa-wake up and they were too fast… too strong."
John looked slightly confused and Sam wondered just how much he had been told.
Dean's face had gone pale and John snapped his eyes to his eldest son, "Dean, are you alright?"
Sam watched as his brother shook his head, "Yeah, Dad I'm fine."
Sam could almost see the wheels turning in Dean's head.
"You can tell him… if you want to," he muttered and looked up into his brother's face.
John pushed forward, "Tell me what? What's going on with you, Sam? Is this about… demons?"
Dean took a deep breath and looked to his brother. Sam's nod was a jerking motion- his mouth had gone dry and his heart pounded in his chest- giving his brother consent.
Sam watched as Dean turned to their father and rubbed his face and then ran his hands through his hair.
"Dad, uh, the reason I took Sam from Alexander's in the first place was because demons were after him," Dean paused to wait for his father's reaction.
"They were after him?" John looked incredulous but curious.
"I saw demon signs all over Utica an' they were centering on that hospital of yours," Bobby cut in and all eyes turned to him. Sam smiled- Bobby would help Dad to understand what had happened- and turned back to look at his brother.
"How do you know they were after my son?" John asked, peering shrewdly at the other occupants of the room.
"When we went to the hospital to get 'im, yer boy was drugged," Bobby explained, "He was woozy and out o' it, disoriented-like."
John crossed his arms over his chest, "Okay, I'll believe in demons because I've encountered one firsthand but I am not going to believe that they were after Sam."
Sam held his breath.
"I mean, Sam never hurt anyone, he's not a bad person," John continued, sounding like he was trying to will the truth away with his assertions.
Rufus shrugged, "Don't matter… all we know is that your son was targeted by demons but we haven't been able to figure out why."
"And you've been hiding out here for three months, ever since leaving Utica?" John asked and Dean cleared his throat.
"Not, uh not exactly Dad," Dean's gaze slipped to Sam and the young man bit his lip but nodded once.
John looked from one son to the other.
"What's going on here? What is it you're not telling me?"
"Dad, just listen, 'kay? Save the 'Q & A' for after because if you interrupt I'm going to lose my nerve," Dean said, his eyes darting to Sam as though to make sure he was still on-board with this.
Sam didn't want to tell their father that he had been held captive by demons but it seemed like there was no way around it. Sam looked up when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, barley making contact, and saw Pastor Jim give an encouraging smile.
"Sammy, you're gonna have to help me," Dean said quietly, almost begging, "'Cause I don't know everything, do you think you can do that?"
Sam hesitated, he wasn't sure if he wanted to tell his Dad anything that had happened to him but he would try- Dean knew he would try, at least- and hopefully their father wouldn't need to know everything.
"After getting Sam out of Alexander's we drove up to Bobby's place and stayed there for the night," Dean explained before being interrupted by John.
"Only one night?"
"Yeah, Dad," Dean bit his cheek to keep his irritation in check.
"We were gonna come back home- Bobby gave us some tips on how to keep the bastards away- and I thought I'd be able to keep Sammy safe," Dean's voice was filled with regret. They never should have left Sioux Falls.
"We'd, ah, we were a few hours away from Bobby when the demons attacked… they ran us off the road and they… took Sammy," Dean whispered, forcing John to lean closer to be heard.
John's eyebrows rose up his forehead to join his hairline.
Dean cleared his throat and looked pointedly at his brother. Sam frowned. He didn't know what to say, how to describe what had happened to him.
"They tortured him, Dad," Dean whispered to break the silence, his hazel eyes hard as steel, "They tortured him for two months before we found him."
John's mouth dropped open and his face turned white in shock and disbelief.
Sam closed his eyes and only opened them again when he felt his brother's hand on his forearm.
"We don't have to do this right now, Sammy," Dean said, his hazel eyes sad, and Sam nodded.
Sam watched as his brother stood and stretched, "C'mon Dad, I want to show you the car Bobby gave me. Maybe you can help me with her."
The boy's father hesitated for a moment and then stood. Sam dropped his gaze guiltily even though he knew Dean would tell him he had nothing to be guilty about.
Sam's eyes went to one of his notebooks, jostled off the gramophone table by the demon attack and he picked it up, holding it close to his chest protectively. He didn't notice the three hunters watching him with curious and sympathetic expressions.
SPN
I tried to organize my thoughts as I led Dad out the where the Impala was. I didn't want to be talking about Sam's torture right in front of the kid and so I had used the ruse of checking out the '67 to get our Dad alone.
The Impala was still on cinderblocks- I hadn't touched her since I was out here talking to Bobby after seeing Sam's scars for the first time- but she still managed to look magnificent.
Dad nodded his approval and walked around the car, his mechanic's eye taking in every inch of the damage done and the repairs made.
"Who helped you with this?" Dad asked, knowing I had little to no knowledge of fixing cars.
"Bobby. He owns a salvage yard and repair business out in Sioux Falls," I told my Dad and laid a hand against the Impala's shiny black skin.
"Man knows what he's doing, I'll give him that," Dad said lightly and I knew he was waiting for me to drop the bomb.
I had no idea how to begin, so I decided to tell Dad about finding Sam- a moment of both unimaginable joy and heartache. I took a deep breath and rubbed my palm against the Impala's sun-warmed coat.
"We found him in this abandoned house a few miles outside of Baltimore," I said slowly, recalling in vivid detail the state of the house.
"They'd locked Sam in the basement like he was some kind of animal," I whispered, "For a second I thought I was just having a really bad dream and I'd wake up and everything would be alright… It felt as if I'd walked into someone else's nightmare…"
Dad didn't interrupt as I spoke, perhaps he didn't dare.
"He was just lying there, kind of crumpled, and he didn't move… he wasn't moving," I hesitated, tears filling my eyes at the memory of the hell-hole of a basement.
"Bobby got a blanket and we wrapped Sammy in it and drove to the hospital," I swallowed, "I didn't think Sam was going to make it, Dad, he was just so thin and sick. I kept expecting each breath he took to be his last."
That was really how I felt. I wasn't trying to be dramatic or make the episode appear worse than it was- it was terrible enough without embellishment- I just wanted my Dad to know what I was thinking at that time too.
"The demons," I began and choked back a sob, "God! Those fucking monsters beat him… they beat him and starved him and cut him and whipped him… they burned him… with what, I don't know… but they did… I don't know what else they did to him…"
I closed my eyes and felt hot tears leak down my face. I hurriedly rubbed at my face.
I jumped when I felt a strong, hard hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw tears in my Dad's dark eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed with the struggle to keep from crying out loud.
"Sam had a fever when we got him to the hospital and then he picked something up there," I said once I had a little more control, "All in all he was there for a month… he's still not a hundred percent but I couldn't see him at the mercy of some doctor anymore."
Dad was speechless. He had no idea what to say to all the information I had just given him.
He took a shuddering breath and whispered, "Did we do this to him? By leaving him in Alexander's? Is this our fault?"
I shook my head, "We don't know why the demons wanted Sam. He doesn't either. Maybe they were just doing it for shits and giggles…"
I stopped talking when I saw the look of resoluteness on my father's face.
"Dad?" I asked, hesitatingly.
"Mary told me this might happen one day," Dad said and my jaw dropped, "I just never believed her."
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to d767468, SPN Mum, Samstruck missingmikey, DeanCasLover22, BranchSuper and FloralSummer for reviewing.
2. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.
3. Please review! I really enjoy hearing for you!
