Chapter 9

Dean sat down on the loud room's coffee table, not feeling too steady at the moment. He'd thought Sam was the one responsible for bringing him back. But he wasn't. And like at Bobby's place, words were being spoken, things were being admitted to, but it was obvious that oh so much still wasn't being said.

Bobby sat on the weird leafed patterned green couch, as loathe as any of them to broach what was now on all their minds after his little bombshell of a few moments before.

Sam had muttered something and walked off and Dean absently remembered seeing him picking up stuff as he worked his way toward the small refrigerator in the corner behind the main door. There was just too damn much to assimilate -- as if being yanked out of hell wasn't enough to overflow the brain. And every time one question got answered or he got something crossed off the list, more came along to get piled on top.

It'd been bad enough to live with only his own thoughts and guilt on that fourteen hour ride to Bobby's yesterday, but then to have gotten there only to find out Sam wasn't there and that they had to drive all the way back to Pontiac again had been excruciating. Still, the shower at his place and getting clean clothes had done so much to set things right. Except for the dead knowledge eating at him that Sam had broken his promise, that he'd made some kind of deal to get him out. He'd worked himself up pretty good on that alone, but nothing had gone even close to what he'd envisioned since they got here.

Dean rubbed at his face, drained and exhausted. He straightened up as Sam came back and took the beer his brother offered him. Sam handed another to Bobby and held onto a third for himself. Dean guessed it was time to start pushing. Things as they stood still weren't making too much sense. "So, what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?"

Sam sat down on the edge of the loveseat again. "Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, uhm…"

It didn't escape Dean how his brother wouldn't stare directly at him for long, but did so in short flickers, eyebrows going up and down as if he too was having problems assimilating everything. Guess he wasn't alone in that respect. There was a whole lot to take in.

"I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback."

He did what? And alone! Dean couldn't look at him -- a different kind of anger now smoldering inside. Had his sacrifice meant so little Sammy had decided to go postal and run after Lilith on his own?

Bobby said exactly what Dean was thinking. "All by yourself? Who do you think you are? Your old man?"

"Uh…"

Yeah, let's see you talk your way out of that one, college boy.

"Sorry, Bobby, I should have made sure to call but I was pretty messed up."

Dean got up as Sam bumbled out his apology, wanting to grab him and shake him till his arms dropped. All that he'd suffered, all that he'd gone through and done, and his brother had just callously cut out everyone and everything and been hunting down demons on his own? What was he? Suicidal?

He spotted something just peeking out from under the end of the loveseat and walked over to it, trying to focus his mind on anything but what he was feeling at the moment. He bent over to pick it up. It was a lacy bra. Before he could think about what he might say, he held the thing out for the others to see, his mouth opening up wanting to vent some of what was rolling inside him. "Oh yeah, I really feel your pain."

Sam had ditched Bobby, drove the man to drink when he cut their friend totally out of his life, not even letting him know if he was alive or dead, the one man who could have made sure he stayed okay, that would assure Sammy didn't just throw away what Dean had given him. And this was what he did with his time. Yet lurid affairs weren't Sammy's style. They were his. His brother was all about the 'relationship' and the touchy feely stuff. What was going on with him that would make him do this? Surely he wasn't that broken. Not like he'd been after Sammy died…

Dean sat down on the loveseat beside his brother, thinking maybe there was more to this than he knew. He suddenly just wanted to be close to him, hoping to hell and back that four months hadn't changed his brother to the point where he didn't know him anymore. Sam mercifully ignored his ugly comment, and Dean thought that was alright. He really shouldn't have said it in the first place.

"Anyways, ah, I was tracking these demons out of Tennessee and out of nowhere they all just left and booked up here."

"When?" Bobby leaned forward.

"Yesterday morning." Sam sounded relieved the topic had moved on.

Dean glanced at Bobby. "When I busted out."

Dark eyes stared into his own. "You think these demons are here 'cause of you?"

Bobby was right, it did sound somewhat conceited of him to think that, yet the more he mulled the idea over the more right it felt.

"But why?"

For some reason Sammy's question hit him wrong, but he clamped down on it not letting it show. It was as if Sam had echoed Dean's own feelings of inadequacy. Regardless of that, he was sure he was onto something. Too many coincidences too close. "Well, I dunno, some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

He might be reaching, but it made too much sense. Dean glanced at Bobby trying to see what he thought about his theory. The old hunter had a pensive look on his face. When he spoke, though, Dean got something totally different instead.

"How are you feeling, anyway?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. But knowing Bobby, and assuming it was somehow relevant, Dean gave it some thought anyway. "I'm a little hungry."

"No. I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange or different?"

Were they back to this crap again? "Or demonic?" His rising annoyance only went up when his friend just shrugged at this. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah, well, listen, no demon is lifting you loose out of the goodness of their heart." His expression turned deadly serious. "They gotta have something nasty planned."

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the melodrama and looked away, exasperation flashing through him mixed with a bolt of fear which he tried to pretend wasn't there. He didn't want them to have doubts about him, about his 'true self'. He'd done plenty of that about Sammy when he got brought back thanks to the whisperings of that damn YED, and it'd almost driven him crazy. He was already f'd up enough by the things he'd done and seen downstairs; he didn't need them making him think he might be some kind of time bomb, too. He couldn't afford to. Not for his sake or theirs. "Well, I feel fine."

He took another drag of his beer to prove it.

Sam spoke up. "Okay, look. We don't know what they're planning. All we got is a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

Dean had no idea where the heck they'd get that. Ruby was gone or dead, and it wouldn't be like he'd want her help anyway, even if she somehow knew anything. If Bobby had no clue, they just might be up a creek without a paddle.

He shouldn't have worried. Bobby came through for them again.

"I know a psychic a few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

Dean felt a burst of hope. The devastation he'd seen at his gravesite had to have made an impression on somebody. "Hell, yeah, it's worth a shot."

Anything to get moving, to get going, to get answers. Making sure he wouldn't somehow be hurting Sam by being back.

Bobby rose to his feet. "I'll be right back."

Dean set his beer down and got up as well, thinking this would be a good time to use the bathroom.

"Hey, wait." Sam stood up beside him.

Dean stared at him wondering if they were about to have a moment, and not entirely sure that for once, he would be all that averse to having it. There'd just been so much so fast and there were still so many questions, so many things he wanted to know about. But asking would bring up questions from the other side as well, questions about things he wouldn't, couldn't share.

"You probably want this back." Sam reached inside his shirt collar and pulled out something from beneath his t-shirt before bringing it up over his head.

Dean felt a jolt, wondering if it could possibly be what he thought it was.

Sam laid the familiar bronze horned head with its big ears and swirl symbol on its forehead onto his hand and Dean felt several things at once. He was filled with joy that Sam had kept a piece of him so close, grateful that he had back one of his most precious possessions, sure it'd been lost during the attack when he'd come back and found he didn't have it on him, guilty because it was the final piece that put him back as he had been before he'd died and he wasn't all that sure he deserved it.

"Thanks." He couldn't look at Sammy, his eyes burning.

"Don't mention it."

Dean put the amulet on.

Now he was truly back.

"Hey, Dean, what was it like?"

He glanced up at his brother, eyebrows raised, trepidation rearing up as they hit one of the very things he'd so hoped to avoid. "What, Hell?"

He couldn't help but notice Sam's eyes momentarily narrow for a 'yes' as if he were afraid to repeat the question. His gaze was intently glued to him, worry and guilt shinning in his eyes.

It'd been his decision to make the deal, not Sam's. But he knew his brother took it personally. Had probably been driving himself nuts thinking about Dean and what he was going through down under. Well, he wouldn't be the one to give his brother any more Emo fodder. Sam had nothing to do with what happened to him in hell, or with the decisions he had made there.

"I don't know." He couldn't look at him as he voiced out the outright lie, hating the need for it, the cowardice of it, but not having any choice. Yet he had to see if Sam was falling for it, because he had to fall for it. Nothing else would do. "I, ah, must have blacked it out."

Sammy just continued to stare at him, his worry now almost screaming from his eyes, wanting desperately to believe him, needing anything Dean would give him. But he couldn't. He couldn't.

"I don't remember a damn thing."

His brother nodded, his hungry, needy gaze leaving him. Dean couldn't tell if Sammy was relieved about his answers or thought he was lying. "Thank God for that."

God had nothing to do with it. "Yeah."

Dean took off his jacket then went on his way, not wanting to take the chance he might give himself away or for Sam to come up with more awkward questions. A lump of shame kept trying to clog his throat as he walked away over lying to his brother so soon after they'd finally been reunited again.

He found the bathroom and closed the door then flipped on the light switch set to the right of the sink. The red garish color of the room barely registered as he rubbed a hand down his face and leaned forward to stare at himself in the mirror.

So, Dean, feeling proud of yourself? Reunited with Sam for less than twenty minutes and already there were lies and secrets stacking between them again. Was this really how he wanted things to go down?

Screams filled his head. Panic and fear his blood. Black obsidian walls rose in his mind's eye and misery so thick he could almost touch it. The blood of those he'd tortured covered him from head to toe. All just so he could save himself from pain. How could he tell that to Sammy? How could he admit to his brother the loathing he felt for himself, or of the fact he'd lost part of his humanity down there? How could he ever look him in the eye again if he ever did tell him? To see the disgust, the horror, but worse, the pity, at what had happened to him, of what he'd allowed himself to become. And then watching Sam add the baggage to his own shoulders, as if he had ever had anything to do with what went down.

No. No, he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't…

He jumped at the knock on the door.

It was Bobby. "Hey, I got a hold of her. She'll meet with us as soon as we can get there."

"O-okay." It was a struggle to keep his voice steady. He was wound way too tight. "Be right out."

Dean avoided the mirror and took care of his business, making sure his game face was on before he went back out.

Sam and Bobby were already by the door with their coats on waiting for him. He was glad to note that though his brother's outer shirts had gone a little frou-frou, his dark green coat had not. Sam held out Dean's own brown coat, a droopy smile flickering on his face for a moment, almost as if he knew what Dean was thinking.

The three of them made their way outside, Dean feeling Sam's presence behind him, shining brighter than the Astoria's neon sign, and damn glad to have it there. No matter what else was hosed up about all this, at least they were together again.

Following the sidewalk to the side of the building, they took some white wooden stairs down to the parking lot.

"She's about four hours down the interstate." Bobby pulled out his car keys. "Try to keep up." He headed off toward his SS.

Dean tried to hide a smile, gratitude flooding through him toward his friend for giving him and Sam a chance to spend some time alone together. Not that the old man would ever admit that's what he was doing.

"I assume you'll want to drive?" Sam dug the keys out of his jacket pocket and tossed them to him.

Dean caught them, barely looking his way, his gaze searching eagerly ahead, his brother's words reminding him of the last missing member of their merry band. "Oh ho ho ho. I almost forgot."

A smile tugged at his lips, pleasure rising inside him as he walked up to the only woman who'd ever truly understood him. "Hey, sweetheart. You miss me?"

Her beautiful lines, her shinny coat – she looked as fit and gorgeous as ever. The unique groan as he opened the door was heaven to his ears. He slipped inside her and it was like coming home. The circle was finally complete.

And that was when he spotted it – something that definitely did not belong with the others and soured his euphoria. A weird plastic holder was protruding from the bottom of the dash, beneath their Pioneer radio, and it was plugged into the cigarette lighter, cradling an IPod.

Sam got into the passenger side, Baby rocking with the motion as she'd done thousands of times, every bit of it feeling totally right except for this alien thing staring at him which was totally wrong.

"What the hell is that?" Dean tried to curve the accusatory tone, but was having a hard time of it. This was wrong.

"It's an IPod jack."

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up." He saw Sam trying not to take offense at what he was saying, like he'd not done anything wrong. As if! This was Baby they were talking about. You did not mess with her!

Sam snorted. "Dean, I thought it was my car."

Well you thought way wrong, buddy. Dean left his brother his most prized possession and this is what he did to her? And what did he mean he thought it was his car? Okay, so he'd died and gone to Hell and yeah, Sam hadn't been able to find a way to bring him back, but still! A damn IPod jack?

He stuck the key in the ignition, knowing he was overreacting, that Sammy was right, yet the invasion still hit him in the craw harder than any punch. Baby was family. You just didn't go around making over family.

The engine turned over, the familiar purr sweeping over him, trying to soothe him. But then the music piped up from the plugged IPod – yuppie, fruity, easy listening crap – in his car!

Dean half turned in the seat to stare daggers at his brother wondering just how much had gone on while he wasn't there and how much Sammy might have changed during the last four months. "Really?"

Sam just stared back at him with his patented 'I'm totally innocent, I haven't done anything' look that Dean hadn't seen since the kid was fourteen and "accidentally" washed a red sock with Dean's underwear, making all his unmentionables pink. He wanted to wring his stinking neck!

Instead, Dean pulled the cord from the lighter socket, grabbed the IPod and the cradle and then tossed the mess into the back.

Sam had the presence of mind to keep his trap shut.

Maybe his brother wasn't as fully suicidal as he'd thought.

Dean followed Bobby out of the parking lot and soon they were booking at a good clip down I-55.

Silence reigned between them in the dark, but to him at least, the sense of Sam's presence was loud and clear and welcomed. Damn, how he'd missed him. Yet, there were too many mosquitoes still flying about stinging him in the brain with unanswered questions and things that didn't make sense. A couple of hours into the drive, he just couldn't leave it alone anymore.

He spoke his mind as they roared down the road, dark trees hemming both sides. "There's still one thing that's bothering me." He made sure to keep his eyes on the road, not positive how this was going to go over, or what he was about to hear.

"Yeah?" Sam turned to look at him.

"Yeah. The night that I bit it. Or got bit." He laughed a little. Couldn't help himself. It was kind of funny, in a sick, twisted kind of way. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you?" He sent a pointed glance in his brother's direction.

"Well…she tried. She couldn't." Sam said this lightly and with little inflection -- almost as if it weren't important. Dean wondered if this was part of the 'real quiet like' Sam Bobby had mentioned before.

"What do you mean she couldn't?" He flashed his attention over to the road then back to Sam again.

His brother just stared out the front window, talking about that horrible time as if it had been just another day. "She fired this like, burning light at me…"

That didn't sound good.

"And…," his brother hesitated, "it didn't leave a scratch."

Their gazes crossed. Dean felt the ugly punch line coming.

"Like I was immune or something."

Lumps of rocks started raining down all over Dean's stomach. "Immune?"

"Yeah." Sam gave a half snort. "I don't know who was more surprised…her or me…" He gave a deep sigh. At least he seemed to be showing a little more emotion. "She left pretty fast after that."

Dean stared back out onto the road letting the words band around inside him for a few seconds. "Huh."

Immune or lucky or whatever, his brother had survived, so that was something. It just didn't give him any warm fuzzies. Not a one. It was like Croatoan all over again.

Time to kill another mosquito.

"What about Ruby? Where is she?" He threw a long glance in Sam's direction.

"Dead. Burned out?"

If only they could be so lucky. He licked his lower lip, then bit it, something not feeling right about all this. It was too nice, too neat. It wasn't that he wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth, but his gut insisted that things just weren't adding up. And there was one thing that would explain things. But just the thought of it made him nauseous. "So…you been using your freaky ESP stuff?"

"No." Sam sounded offended.

"You sure about that?" Dean sent him a hard stare. "I mean, now, well, that you've got immunity or whatever the hell that is." A giant sign saying that regardless of what they'd believed when YED died, Sammy's powers hadn't left with him. "Just wondering what other weirdo crap you got going on."

"Nothing, Dean." It was soft, quiet Sam again.

His gut wasn't buying it. It must have shown on his face.

"Look, you didn't want me to go down that road so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish." The indignation was somewhat lower key than he would have expected, but at least it was there. So was the fact that Sam remembered what they'd talked about that long ago night.

Maybe he was worrying over nothing. Just having some return from the dead jitters or what not. "Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

After his own taste of the nastiness downstairs, he wanted Sam as far away from those bastards and their temptations as possible. For them to never get their mitts on his soul was one of his missions. His brother would never survive what they'd do to him there. No one could.