Chapter Ten: The Unnamed Feeling
"Anything else I can get you, hon?" the female bartender asked Dean.
Dean shook his head and smiled, tipping his bottle of beer in a kind of salute, "Got everything I need."
The bartender nodded, "Just let me know if you want another."
Dean watched as she strode down to the other end of the bar and he turned to look out at the interior of the pub.
It was actually quite busy, mostly college kids on vacation but there were also a few regulars dispersed among the crowds.
Dean allowed himself to relax a little bit. Elbows on the polished wooden bar, beer in hand, he took a deep breath as he watched the other patrons with mild interest.
Dean had only been out for a couple of hours but they had been productive- he currently had three hundred dollars in his wallet- thanks to rich snobby Princeton boys who didn't know how to play pool or poker.
Should get back to Sam soon, he thought and gulped down some of his beer.
Dean's phone vibrated and trilled 'Smoke on the Water' in his pocket and he fished it out, groaning when he saw it was Sheriff Jody Mills.
The Sheriff had called a few weeks before, first phoning Bobby's cell and then later Dean's, asking how the boys were holding up. Dean had lied and said that they were fine. Jody had told Dean about the conclusion of Bobby's funeral- something which he could care less about- but Dean had pretended to be interested. The Sheriff had suggested coming over to see them, asking if there was anything she could do. Dean had told Jody that there was no need; he didn't want her to drive all the way out to Whitefish for nothing.
. Dean had been polite though, he had indulged the Sheriff and all the while he had been thinking of Sam. His brother had just started having hallucinations and Dean was worried for him. Now though, he was worried that the Sheriff would just show up on their doorstep. That would be all Dean needed.
Guzzling down the rest of his beer, Dean stood and set some money on the bar.
"Leaving so soon?" the bartender had wandered over and actually looked sad to see Dean go.
"Sorry Sweetheart," Dean apologized and held his phone up to his ear, "Hey Jody! How're you doing?"
"I'm good Dean," Sheriff Mills said, "What about you? And Sam?"
"We're peachy," Dean maneuvered his way between groups of college students, heading toward the exit.
The sun shone down brightly and Dean squinted. He held the phone closer to his ear as he made his way slowly to the car.
"Dean, you sound tired," Jody was saying, "Are you sure you're alright."
"Uh yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," Dean assured her.
"Mmmhmm," Jody answered, sounding unimpressed.
"Look, I know you're just worried about us but I told you- we take care of ourselves," Dean insisted.
Dean liked the Sheriff, sure he did, but when it came to Sammy he trusted Jody as far as he could throw her.
He feared that if Jody did come to the cabin and Sam had a hallucination while she was there, bad things would happen.
"Okay, keep your secrets," Jody said in an amused tone.
"Talk to you later," Dean said and ended the call.
He knew that the Sheriff only had good intentions and although she might not know everything about him and Sam, Dean was sure she would not do anything that would harm either of them.
Dean made of point of not thinking about anything at all as he unlocked the car door and slid into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle rumbled to life.
He jumped when his phone vibrated again and this time he ignored it.
"Don't wanna talk to ya," Dean muttered and turned on the radio instead.
He smiled as R.E.M.'s 'Man on the Moon' began to play.
W
Dean swallowed thickly and braced himself, unlocking the front door of the cabin. He stepped inside and looked around. All was quiet.
Dean walked deeper into the house and peered over the back of the couch- Sam was curled up under about three blankets- and he smiled. His brother was still sleeping.
Dean made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He leaned against the counter and peered into the living room.
Dean stifled a yawn and hoped that it would be a good night and Sam wouldn't have many nightmares. He knew he needed sleep but he couldn't ignore his brother when he cried out in the middle of the night, confused and terrified.
Dean drank his beer quickly and set the empty bottle on the counter. He should try and get Sam to eat something when he woke up.
Dean went back to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of fruit punch. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with the pinkish-red juice. Dean stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, holding the glass, unsure of just what to feed his brother.
Setting the glass of punch on the counter, Dean went to the pantry and found a bottle of Ensure. He had bought a six-pack of the vitamin-rich supplement drink a week ago and Sam didn't seem to mind the stuff so Dean had planned on giving some to his brother whenever he refused regular food.
Dean frowned though; Sam had to actually eat something. He settled for making a peanut butter and jam sandwich for the kid.
He placed the glass of punch back into the fridge to keep it cool, plastic-wrapped the sandwich and left the Ensure on the table before making his way out to the living room and settling down on the chair near the couch.
SPN
Sam woke slowly. He blinked a few times and reached up to rub at his gritty-feeling eyes. He shrugged the blankets off his shoulders and peered around, owlishly.
He froze when he saw Dean. At least, Sam hoped it was Dean because the alternative terrified him.
"Thought you were gonna sleep all day," the might-be-Dean said.
Sam nodded, still feeling tired and now wary.
"Think you can eat something?" Dean asked and stood, held a hand out to Sam.
His brother actually cringed away from him and Dean lowered his hand and sighed.
He rubbed the side of his face with one hand for a moment, "It's okay, Sammy, it's me. It's Dean. Just Dean, okay?"
Sam didn't move. He didn't want to be fooled again.
"I swear, Sammy," Dean pleaded and Sam saw the sad look in his brother's eyes.
Sam hesitated a moment more and then pushed himself off the couch. Dean smiled.
Both boys headed to the kitchen and Dean pulled out a chair for his brother.
"How're you feeling?" Dean asked as he grabbed the sandwich from the counter and the glass of punch from the fridge.
Sam shrugged and Dean took that as 'no better/no worse'.
Dean unwrapped the sandwich and put it on a plate, "May not be PB and banana but I figure it'll still taste good."
Dean set the plate and glass in front of his brother, hoping he would eat.
Sam looked at the food and drink and unconsciously clenched his hands into fists, his left thumb digging into his palm.
Come on Sam, Dean thought as he watched his brother, just take one bite, come on.
Sam knew what Dean wanted, he knew what would make Dean happy but he had neither the strength nor the inclination to eat.
Dean watched as Sam lowered his head in defeat. Dean held back a scowl and a sigh. He knew that none of this was his brother's fault and yet sometimes he just wanted to grab Sam by the shoulders and shake him.
"Okay Sam," Dean said and Sam flinched because he heard annoyance in his brother's voice.
"If you keep this up Sam, Dean is going to leave you," Lucifer said as he leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed and a smile on his face.
Dean watched as Sam pulled the plate closer to himself and pick up one half of the sandwich. He watched Sam scrutinize the bread and filling for a moment before taking a bite with what appeared to be great willpower.
Sam wolfed down the food and for a moment Dean was worried that Sam was going to start choking but his brother just washed down each mouthful with a gulp of fruit punch.
In a matter of seconds both the sandwich and juice were gone and Sam was swallowing as though to keep from puking.
"You did good Sammy," Dean said and took the dirty dishes away.
"Dean," Sam said in a voice filled with fear and Dean turned around to see his brother giving him the largest 'puppy-eyes' he ever saw.
Sam's green eyes were round as saucers and glistening with tears.
"Ah shit," Dean said and quickly moved to his brother's side.
Dean gripped Sam's left hand, rubbing his brother's knuckles with his thumb.
"S'okay Sammy," Dean cooed, "It's okay, it'll be okay, just calm down."
Sam wasn't having a hallucination hallucination- he still knew where he was, he was aware of his surroundings- but he sought his brother's comfort anyway.
Dean grimaced. Sam got spooked so easily nowadays and it never failed to bring the hot prickle of tears to Dean's own eyes as he tried in vain to make his brother better.
Sam buried his face against Dean's broad shoulder, "Make it stop, Dean. Please, please… I can't take it anymore… make it go away… make him go away."
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing full well he could not do as Sam begged of him.
With one hand still on Sam's knuckles, Dean put his free hand on his brother's back and began to rub soothing circles.
Dean took a deep breath and began to sing, something he usually reserved for long drives in the Impala with the music eardrum-shatteringly loud, "So close no matter how far, couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters…"
Dean felt Sam relax under his hand and his breathing became regular again.
"…Trust I seek and I find it in you, everyday for us something new. Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters."
Dean didn't know how it worked but whenever he sang it seemed to calm Sam right down.
Sam pulled his face away from Dean's shirt and sniffed a few times. He looked around furtively for a moment and then gave his older brother a weak smile.
"We'll get through this, Sammy," Dean said, "I know we will."
Yeah, Dean thought, when pigs fly.
He frowned though, he really shouldn't think like that, he needed to be more hopeful. He had always been the more positive brother when he thought about it and right now Sammy really needed Dean to have hope, have enough hope for the both of them.
"What d'you say we watch some TV?" Dean asked because he could not bear to see Sam terrified and despairing.
Sam nodded, seeming to like the idea of being able to do something as normal as watch television and followed Dean out to the living room.
Dean sat down first, in one corner of the couch and Sam settled beside him, actually leaning against him but he didn't really mind. As long as Sammy was comfortable, that's all that mattered to Dean.
The eldest Winchester brother grabbed the remote and jabbed the ON button. He flipped through the stations, trying to find something that would interest his younger brother.
Ah, here we go, Dean thought and stopped on a documentary on the Sahara Desert, Sam loves this stuff.
Dean looked at his brother and smiled gently- the kid had his eyes closed and his breathing was calm and slow- Sam had fallen asleep.
Dean turned his attention to the television and gulped down the painful lump in his throat. God, he loved his brother. He just didn't know how the two of them were supposed to live like this. He would take care of his brother for as long as he was able but he did have doubts as to how long that would be. There were so many things to worry about: Leviathans, Sheriff Mills, Sam's hallucinations becoming worse, Dean himself getting hurt…
"Don't worry Sammy," Dean mumbled to his sibling, "As long as there's breath in me, I'm never gonna leave you… I'll always be there to look after you."
He watched the TV with no real interest and soon moved away from the couch, searching for something more entertaining to grab his attention. Dean crept upstairs and rifled through his duffle bag for a magazine he'd stashed there when his fingers came into contact with a much older, thicker book.
Dean pulled out his father's old journal and stared at the leather-bound tome for a moment before sitting on the bed and flipping through the well-used book.
Dean had forgotten about the journal and felt his eyes prickle and swallowed painfully.
If only Dad was here, Dean mused as he looked at the pages covered in his father's fat, slightly messy printing; he'd know what to do, he'd be able to help us.
Dean peered at one of his father's first entries- I went to Missouri and learned the truth- and frowned.
Sometimes you were way too cryptic, Dad; Dean thought and paused.
I went to Missouri and learned the truth.
Went to Missouri, Dean mused, Missouri- the psychic, not the state- and learned the truth.
Dean's eyes widened. It was a long-shot, he knew, but if it worked than it would be a genuine miracle.
Dean snapped the journal shut, leaving it on the bed and ran down the stairs and into the living room.
Dean shook his sibling awake- not the best move because Sam jumped up with a surprised cry and looked at Dean like his older brother was going to bite him- and hurriedly told him that they were leaving.
"Leaving? Is something wrong?" Sam asked with fear in his voice.
Dean shook his head, "Nah Sammy. I've got an idea and if it works you should be all better… no more hallucinations."
"Medicine?" Sam wondered anxiously.
"No, no meds," Dean assured his brother.
"Okay," Sam said uneasily and stood up.
He followed his brother as Dean made his way back upstairs. Sam's heart pounded in his chest despite his attempt to calm it. His palms were sweaty and he was afraid.
Trust Dean, Sam thought, he knows what he's doing. He won't do anything you don't want to do.
But Sam did not want to leave the cabin and now Dean was saying they had to go. The cabin was familiar and it felt safe. Sam was scared to go into the unknown.
Sam followed his brother up to their rooms and watched as Dean first packed his duffle bag and then walked down the hall and packed Sam's. Sam did not say anything to his brother while he did this.
As Dean set both their bags in front of the door and gave the main floor a cursory once-over, Sam spoke up.
"Please… I don't want to leave…" he knew he sounded pathetic but he couldn't help it. He was afraid.
Dean turned to him and his gaze softened, "Aw Sammy, it'll be okay. We're not going to be gone forever, we'll come back."
Sam didn't say anything in response. His head was beginning to ache and he closed his eyes.
"Look at me, Sammy," his brother's voice instructed and Sam obeyed.
Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, "I am not going to let anything happen to you. I promise you that. I'm trying to make you better, that's why we're leaving."
"Where are we going?" Sam asked.
Dean smiled, "To Missouri."
Trust Dean, Sam reminded himself and nodded.
Dean grabbed their bags and ushered his brother onto the porch. He turned to lock the cabin's door and all but leaped off at the top of the steps.
Dean was so excited, so enthusiastic, so hopeful.
He didn't know why he had never thought of the old psychic before. He made his way toward the crap Camero they drove now and made sure his brother was seated comfortably in the passenger's side before putting their bags in the trunk.
Dean sat down and turned the key in the ignition.
Sam stared out the window. His hands gripped his knees tightly. He refused to look at his brother.
Sam frowned at his reflection in the window. He hoped that he'd be alright and that he wouldn't embarrass Dean. He knew that Missouri was far away but Dean thought there was something important there so Sam was going to trust him. He peered into the side-view mirror as the car rolled down the road, farther and farther away from the cabin and Sam had a terrible feeling that he would never see it again.
Dean turned on the radio and the Foo Fighter's came on with 'Learn to Fly.'
He told himself that everything was going to be fine, that Sam was going to get better and that somehow they'd move on.
Dean wanted them to move on, move away from Bobby's death, the Leviathans, Castiel's betrayal, Sam's Hell.
Dean peered at his brother from the corner of his eye and thought Sam looked about to have a panic attack.
Was he doing the right thing? Could Missouri even help them? How was Dean supposed to look after his damaged, broken little brother while the world around them was overrun with Dick Roman and his buddies?
If there was ever a time in Dean Winchester's life when he wished he believed in God, it was at that moment. At least if he had faith in a higher power, he wouldn't seem so alone in all this. And yes, Dean was alone. He didn't think he'd ever felt so lonely in his whole life. Even when Sam had been at Stanford, even when Sam was dead and in Hell, Dean didn't recall feeling this insignificant, this abandoned.
Of course Dean wasn't really alone; Sam was with him but only as a ghost of his former self. His brother was no longer the chatter-box, pain-in-the-ass annoyance that Dean loved. Dean wanted the old Sam back. He wanted him back so badly it made his chest ache. What Castiel had done to his brother was cruel not only because it had destroyed Sam but because it also devastated Dean.
Dean paused in his thoughts and wondered just how alone Sam felt in all this.
Sure, Dean was with him nearly all the time but he couldn't do anything to let his brother know he was there for him if Sam was in the throes of a hallucination. Dean really was Sam's only link to the real world and that idea terrified him. He was afraid of something happening to him, of losing Sam completely because he wasn't there for his brother when he needed him the most.
I am going to find a way to fix Sam, Dean thought. If this doesn't work out with Missouri I'll try again and again until I find something that works.
Trust Dean, Sam told himself until it became a kind of chant; trust Dean, trust Dean, trust Dean. Sam knew that Dean would never let anything bad happen to him and he believed his brother when he said that he was going to fix him.
1. Yes, I know this story is now completed… but don't worry! There is a sequel coming right up, called Torn. The original story was starting to get a lot of chapters and I decided to split it into two parts. Thanks for understanding.
2. Chapter title comes from the name of a Metallica song.
3. Thanks to lizziemarie0529, SPN Mum, Priya723 for reviewing.
4. Thanks to everyone who alerted or favourited.
5. As always, please review.