A/N: As always, thank you for reading, reviewing and adding to alerts and favourites! Your support keeps me writing! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you in person yet, I'll be sure to do so shortly! Again, a huge thank you to my brilliant beta MuffyMorrigan!
Hitting Walls and Getting Scars
Chapter 9
Past
Near Palo Alto
When Dean woke up the next morning, he felt dishevelled and shivery, and when the nurse came with breakfast, he found he was only able to swallow a few bites before he started feeling nauseous. All his physical symptoms were improving, his wound was healing nicely with no signs of infection, and the headache that his concussion had caused was almost gone. Where's this freaking nausea coming from, then? Typical, everything else is improving, now I can't eat. Must be caffeine withdrawal. I need to get myself some coffee today! No one would ever make him admit that his nausea grew every time he thought about Sam. He tried calling him several times during the morning, but every time he just got his voice mail. Dammit, Sam, where are you? What are you doing? Please pick up the phone. Or just turn it on so I'll at least know that you're ok and able to do so.
John came by around noon, and they chatted for a bit about the hunt and about a bout of demonic activity that Pastor Jim had called John about the night before, getting a weird look from the blonde nurse when they hadn't heard her approaching and thus didn't manage to change topic before she was within hearing range. John grinned a bit sheepishly at her. 'Planning a story for a novel,' he said. Dean struggled to contain his chuckles when this seemed to heighten her interest in his father even more and she launched into a long speech about her favourite authors, most of which Dean was sure his father had not even heard about. Sam, on the other hand…
The thought of his brother brought him abruptly back to reality and seriousness. When the nurse left again, Dean voiced his worry to John, but as expected he brushed it off, stating what Dean had already thought, that he was probably just immersed in a paper and had shut himself off from the world. Not wanting his father to worry, and even less wanting the nurses or doctors to think he would not be able to leave the hospital the next day, he forced down his lunch, fighting the nausea that had returned at intervals during the day together with the tight knot of fear in his stomach.
When John left again a couple of hours later, Dean again tried to distract himself by flicking through channels on the TV, stopping when he reached a Godzilla marathon. Yay, Godzilla vs. Mothra, my favourite! Sam of course would nag me about the remake being better. No taste at all when it comes to high culture! He sighed, then fought down the nausea that once again threatened in his throat. I don't like the fact that I can't reach him. No matter how immersed he is in his paper. Or rather – I don't think that's the case at all. Something's wrong, I can feel it. I don't know how I know, I just do. He dialled Sam's number again, but it went straight to voicemail. On the off chance he tried Sam's old number, but he had no luck there either.
I don't like this. I really, really don't like this. Something's wrong. I can feel it. What's wrong, Sammy? Are you ok? Please be ok. I don't know what I'd do if… This whole you-being-away-at-college thing sucks, you know that? It's bad enough that I can't be there to watch your back, but this… I never thought I'd feel this way, that I wouldn't be able to reach you… That I wouldn't know what you're doing, if you're ok…
Realising that his thoughts were getting him nowhere except onto a higher level of stir crazy, he rose from his bed and put on the jeans and t-shirt that his father had brought him earlier that day. Nice, now I almost feel human again. Wish he'd remembered to bring my shaving gear, stubble is ok, but my beard's almost as long as Dad's right now. Then he walked slowly out of the room. Hope I don't run into that blonde nurse, she's worse than a prison warden. Not to mention that she's bound to tell on me to dad. He rolled his eyes at the thought as he made his way towards the cafeteria. There, he headed for the counter, his mouth watering at the thought of coffee. He ordered his usual, black, ignoring a voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Sam's, that told him that he ought to abstain from drinking coffee until the doctors told him it was ok to do so.
Business was slow, so he spent some time chatting up the barista, ending up in a much better mood when he finally left, not least because of the napkin in his pocket bearing her phone number. Not bad for a patient with a three-day beard. He grinned to himself.
Reality struck him again when he entered his room. Several unanswered calls more to Sam didn't diminish his worry, and he was just about ready to sign himself out and call for a cab to take him to the Stanford campus when his father arrived that evening. Noting Dean's distress and realising the reason for it, he tried to calm him down.
'He's ok, Dean. He's just wrapped up in a paper. You know how he gets, and he couldn't know that you were going to try and call him right now.'
'It doesn't feel right, Dad.'
John sighed. 'I know. It doesn't feel right at all that he isn't here, that he's out there on his own.'
That wasn't what I meant, Dad. But I'm not sure I can explain that to you. Instead of voicing this thought, he voiced another that had been eating away at him since the day before.
'He changed his phone number. The old one doesn't work anymore.' He deliberately kept his voice steady, delivering the piece of information as if stating a neutral fact rather than the heartbreaking suspicion that tore at him, telling him that his brother had cut off their only means of reaching him, that he hadn't even let them know that he had gotten a new phone number.
'What?' John's voice was surprised.
'Yeah. It's out of service. He's got a new one.'
John sat still for a moment, then he exploded. 'The stupid idiot, what is he thinking? That phone is our only means of contacting him, he knows how important it is to keep the communication lines open in case of emergencies!'
'Dad…'
'It's a stupid, childish way of getting back at me, I know it! Damn that boy, every cheap point he can get to show how he disregards what I've taught him.' John rose abruptly from his chair and started pacing the room, throwing his hands into the air to underline his words.
Here we go again… Guess I shouldn't have told him…
'Dad… Maybe that's not the reason. Maybe he just wanted a number in his real name, you know.'
'What's wrong with the old one? I got him that one, dammit!'
Ah, that's part of it as well.
'Dad, you know Sam, you know what he wants. He wants normal, he wants to be a lawyer, which also means that he wants everything to be proper and legal. And a pre-law student at Stanford with a phone number in the name of an alias? That just doesn't fit into Sam's world there.' And neither do we, apparently, Dean silently added.
'Yes, what HE wants! How about what we want? How about what he ought to do? How about where his proper place is? He's one of us, Dean, he can't run from that! Dammit!' He slammed his fist against the wall.
Shit, I should never have told him. Hope he doesn't run off and drag Sam back here. Or maybe I should let him do just that, because then at least I'd know that he was ok.
'Dad, you know Sam doesn't feel that way. He's never wanted this life that we lead. And he's made his choice, and we have to accept that!' No matter how much it hurts.
'Accept that? Accept that he deserts us? That he deserts the hunt? How do you want me to accept that, Dean?' John's voice grew harder with each word, making the last question almost accusatory in its tone.
Great, even when Sam isn't here, I still end up being caught up in their quarrel. Right now I don't really blame you for leaving, Sammy. There's no reasoning with him when he's in this mood.
'And he didn't even tell you, did he? Selfish little bastard. I would have thought he'd at least tell you, but no no…' John kept up his pacing and rambling. Dean didn't catch everything he said, only that the gist of it was ranting against Sam for not letting Dean be able to contact him.
Yeah, Dad, I know that, you don't really need to tell me that. It hurts enough as it is without you rubbing it in. But is he right, Sammy? Do you really want me to stay away? Don't you want to talk to me anymore? Are you really that angry with me?
'Dad.'
John continued his ramblings.
'Dad!' Dean raised his voice to break through to his father, who finally stopped.
'WHAT?' John said, anger in his voice.
'Calm down, or else you'll get the doctors in here. And anyway there's nothing you can do about it now. Sam's gone, and he isn't coming back anytime soon. And you have to accept that. You can't bring him back, he'll just take off again if you try.' And that will make everything worse than it is now. Although come to think of it I'm not sure it can get any worse. Sam doesn't want to talk to me… He struggled to wall in the emotions that those thoughts caused him, knowing that his father wouldn't approve of him showing them. Funny how it's ok to show anger and hate, but grief or pain? No sir, those we hide away deep inside where no one can witness our weakness.
John stood still, looking at him for several minutes, breathing heavily, trying to get himself under control. When he finally spoke, his voice was once again even, expressing none of his earlier emotion.
'Yeah. You're right. He's made his choice and he'll have to take the consequences. When he doesn't want to speak with us, we won't speak with him either. Anyway. The doctors say that they're going to let you go tomorrow, so I'm figuring I'll pick you up here at 9 a.m., what do you think about that?'
Dean nodded, happy to be able to leave the hospital soon but worried by his father's words. So, that's how we play it? He's out of our lives now? Not agreeing with you there, Dad. I'm not going to contact him, but if he ever contacts me, I'll be more than happy to speak with him. God, Sammy, how can you… how could you make that decision? But I guess… maybe it's easier for you there with your new friends? I just thought… I just thought you would have time for me too, Sammy. Guess I was wrong.
'Sounds good, Dad,' Dean said, trying to make his face position itself in a small smile to accompany his words.
'Great. See you tomorrow, then,' John said, his voice gruff. Then he walked out the door.
Dean didn't see how, once he'd closed the door, John picked out his phone and speed-dialled Sam's number, nor did he see the tears in his eyes when he heard the impersonal voice confirming what Dean had told him, or the shaking of his hands when he deleted the number – and Sam's name – from the list of contacts in his phone.
When John walked out the door, Dean lay back on his bed, feeling exhausted yet filled with emotions that wouldn't let him rest. Is Dad right? Is it because he doesn't want to see us or talk to us? But why then do I feel this way, why do I feel sick every time I think about him? Sam, I thought I knew you… But this new you I can't quite figure out. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? God, Sam, just… please just be ok. I think I can stand being apart, but I can't stand being apart if something's wrong… The thoughts continued spinning around in his head, and not even another trip to the TV lounge could distract him. Late in the evening, he went back to his room and lay awake for a couple of hours before he finally fell asleep. His sleep was interrupted by dreams of hunts where Sam got hurt, and when Dean woke up the next morning he didn't feel rested at all, but he noticed that the nausea of the day before had almost vanished, enabling him to enjoy his breakfast, not least the cup of coffee that the blonde nurse allowed him.
I wonder if I feel better because whatever might have been wrong with Sam is passing? Or maybe… maybe I'm just getting used to the idea of us being apart. No, I don't think I'll ever get used to that. We belong together, Sam, no matter if we're apart. I hope you'll realise that in time, little brother.
After finishing his breakfast, he dressed, shaved, thank you, Dad, now I feel all better! and when John arrived he had barely walked through the door to Dean's room before Dean was on his feet and on his way out.
Only to walk smack into the blonde nurse who was waiting outside with a wheelchair. Dean looked at her in horror, then looked at the wheelchair, then back at her. 'No way… No way!!!' he gasped.
'You want out of here?' she asked, her face unsmiling.
Dean looked at John in despair. 'Dad, honestly, I can walk, there's no need for this!'
John shrugged, a small smile on his face. 'Hospital rules, Dean. And you know Amy won't let you out of here if you don't follow the rules.' John winked at the nurse. 'You get into the wheelchair or you stay for another day.'
Dean huffed in disgust, but got into the chair. I'm so happy Sam isn't here to see this! Or maybe not. Having you here would be worth even this, Sammy. When they got down to the front entrance, he held up a hand to stop the nurse.
'This is as far as this goes. I'm WALKING out those doors. No discussion,' he said.
'Ok, Mr. Harrison, I think I can let you do that. And may I say, it's been a pleasure looking after you.' She smiled at him, no trace of irony on her face or in her voice.
I bet it has, especially when Dad was around. 'Thank you,' he said, then turned and walked towards the Impala. Ah, baby, good to see you again!
John caught up with him and when they reached the car he opened the door and helped Dean into the passenger seat, then walked around the car to slide in behind the wheel.
'Dad…' Dean said hesitantly.
'Yeah?'
'Could we… could we swing by the campus? Just to, you know, maybe see if he's there, not to talk to him, just to see if he's ok?' Please, Dad. I need to see him, I need to know that he's ok. Even if… even if you're right and he doesn't want to talk to us anymore, I just need to see him.
John looked at Dean for a few seconds, noticing the bags under his eyes that hadn't been there the night before, then he nodded. 'Sure, son. No problem.' He turned the key in the ignition, drove out of the parking lot and headed towards campus. Dean didn't enquire how he knew the way without looking at a map.
Once they got there, they drove slowly past campus. The place was milling with students so it was almost impossible to determine whether Sam was there or not. In the end, they stopped near one of the dorms and asked a random student whether he knew Sam Winchester. By luck, he turned out to have classes with Sam and told them that he had seen him drive off with one of his friends a little earlier that morning. Dean breathed a sigh of relief at this. Thank God, at least he's ok. Guess all my worry was for nothing, then. Guess you were just working on a paper, Sammy. Or maybe… maybe you really don't want to talk to us? Was that why you turned off your phone? But no, you wouldn't do that… would you, Sam?
He turned towards his father. 'Dad, do you think… Do you think he really doesn't want to talk to us anymore?'
John sighed, then looked at his oldest son. 'I don't know, Dean. I really don't know. I hate to say it, but it does look like it, since he didn't tell any of us that he got a new number.'
Dean sat still for a long time after this, staring out the windscreen while they made their way out of town and started northwards. Sammy… Can you really…? Would you…? How can you just cut us off like that? Don't you miss us at all? But I guess… I guess you have friends now… You can have your own life now, doing what YOU want to do. I just thought… Hell, Sammy, I thought I could be a part of that too, you know. I never thought… He clenched his jaw, forcing back the tears that threatened to seep from his eyes. Dammit, stop this whining. I can't let Dad see this! He breathed in deeply, silently, through his nose a few times, slowly re-gaining control over his emotions. Well, if that's what you want, Sammy, then that's what I'll give you. I won't try to contact you unless you want me to – unless you contact me first, that is. I wish… I wish things could be different, little brother. But you know I'm here for you, you just have to call, and I'll be there. I hope you know that. No. I know that you know that.
They crossed the last sign for Palo Alto.
Goodbye, little brother. Be safe.
Then he turned down the volume on the stereo, turned towards his father and said, 'So, tell me again what Bobby said about this new hunt?'
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Present
When Dean stopped talking, Sam sat completely still for a long time, not quite daring to believe what his brother had told him. He finally managed to collect his thoughts enough to stutter a question.
'So… you really did try to call me back?'
Dean nodded.
Sam took a deep breath. 'Listen… I'm sorry about changing my phone number… One of the first things I did when I got there was to get myself a new number in my own name. I guess I just wanted to leave as many reminders behind as I could, you know, I tried to be as normal as I could. I didn't want to have anything around that might get people to start asking questions about my past or anything, so I wanted a local number. And also… you know, Dad got me that phone and the number a few months before I left… And I guess I just wanted to get rid of it for that reason alone… I didn't think… God, Dean, I'm sorry!'
Dean shrugged. They both sat in silence for a while, thinking about what the other had said, trying to make sense of the multitude of emotions that were raging inside them.
'So…' Sam said at the same time that Dean said 'Sam…' They both grew quiet again, then Dean nodded to Sam to continue.
'So, er… you heard me that day? In the hospital?'
'Yeah,' Dean said, then went on. 'God, Sam, if only I'd been more awake, I would have realised that you were really there, that Dad was wrong… I'm so sorry!'
Sam shook his head. 'No, Dean, don't take this upon yourself, none of this is your fault. If I hadn't been so out of it, I would have realised that you were only trying to protect me… from Dad, from knowing you were hurt.'
And oh my God, he actually felt sick because I was ill? Does this mean… maybe this means that he feels that fear as strongly as I do? Maybe… maybe it really does mean that he wants us to be together? It's the helplessness that is the worst… that fear that something may be wrong and the inability to do something about it… Maybe he understands that? But hang on, what was that he said at the end? Those words… 'you have friends, you can have your own life...' that's… that's almost the words that thing used… Sam suddenly rose from the table, slowly backing away from Dean, a frown scrunching up his forehead. When he reached the wall farthest from the table he stopped and just stood there, staring at Dean. What… I don't understand. What should I believe? He sounds so sincere, and I want to believe him, but… Once more the shapeshifter's hurtful words resounded in his mind, causing him to shake his head in an attempt to get rid of them.
Dean looked up as Sam rose from his chair and noticed how the uncertainty and fear crept back into Sam's eyes, chasing away the hope that was there only moments before. What? What did I say, Sam? What's the matter?
'Sam?' he said, the confusion plain in his voice.
Sam was staring blankly in front of him, his gaze unfocused, his attention turned inwards. 'You… it said… those words it used… you really did think that,' Sam said, trying hard to stop the returned trebling in his body from being heard in his voice.
'What words? What are you talking about, Sam?'
Sam just shook his head, withdrawing further into himself.
What is going on with him? That bastard, it really messed with his head. God, I'd like to go back and resurrect it just for the pleasure of killing it all over again!
'Sam, whatever it said, it lied, ok? It may have used the same words – whatever they are – but it twisted them to suit its own purpose… which was to mess with you head, ok? Are you hearing me, Sam? Whatever it may have said, it wasn't real, ok?'
Sam, trying his best to hold himself together, replied with a small smile. 'Not even the 'he'd shag Becky if he had the chance' part?'
'Ok, maybe that part, but nothing else! God, Sam, I wish things had worked out for you, I wish you could have had that life – and I would have done anything to prevent what happened to Jess. I can't change any of that now, but, Sammy, please believe me when I say that I want us to be together now. We're a team, you and I, ok? And when we find Dad, we'll be stronger than any goddamn supernatural thing out there. You hear me? We're going to hunt down that thing together, and don't ever think that you aren't good enough to be with me and Dad, Sam.'
He saw Sam raise his head to look at him, hope once again fighting with the inner demons of insecurity and self-doubt that had been possessing his mind for all those years. What else can I say to convince you, Sam? I want you here, with me… and with Dad. I want us to be together again, as hunters, but more than that as a family. Maybe… maybe that's what he needs to hear? God, I can't believe I'm even considering saying that. But if that's what it takes… The things I'm willing to do for that kid… He cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to say the words in the least soppy manner.
'Sam…' He paused.
'Sam, listen to me. I don't want you to leave, ok? And I don't want to leave you behind. I want us to be together, I want the two of us to find Dad together, and I want the three of us to hunt that evil son of a bitch together and kill it together. But…' God, I can't believe I'm doing this. 'But Sam, I want you here with me more than anything because you're my brother. Not because of that geeky mind of yours or your hunting skills or your amazing grades… Well, those too, but that's not the point. I want you around because you're my pain-in-the-ass little brother, and… it doesn't feel right when you're not around.' The final words tumbled out before he could stop them. Are you listening, Sammy? I mean what I'm saying, you know. When you're not here, it's like part of me is missing.
Sam finally looked Dean in the eyes, hope dawning in his eyes as Dean's words finally got through to him. 'Jesus, Sammy, for a college boy you can be a real idiot sometimes,' Dean said softly, 'How could you ever think I wouldn't want to see you? Damn our stupid Winchester ways sometimes, huh?' Then, realising what the one thing that might convince Sam of his sincerity was, he rose from his chair, walked over to Sam and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. Then he gave Sam's shoulders a slight shake and drew him towards him in a hug. Feels a bit awkward, I'll admit, but I think he needs this right now. Right, little brother?
Dean's unspoken question was answered seconds later when Sam's arms went around him and he crushed his big brother to his chest, holding on to him as if his life depended on it. Dean returned the embrace, needing it as much as Sam did. Don't worry, kiddo, I'm here for you. You can lean on me when you need to, when things get rough. I'll help you find yourself again, I know your life seems to be in pieces right now, but I'll help you put it – and yourself – back together again. And we're going to find Dad and then the three of us are going to hunt that bastard down and get rid of it for good, whatever it is. Do you hear me, little brother? The three of us. You belong with me and Dad, Sam, no matter what you think. You'll always be a Winchester, no matter what you choose to do. No one can take that away from you. And I'll always be here for you. You're not alone anymore, Sam.
And neither am I.
To Be Continued
