Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
A/N: Real life events are going to start taking larger chunks of my time, so I'm not sure how updates will be affected. I will do my best to keep my updates quick and quality, and I promise that I won't be going anywhere in any sort of near future. You readers make the time used to write fanfiction worthwhile!
To Allie B: We won't see a Sam PoV in this story, but I'm willing to write out a sister story to Desolation that follows Sam's journey from where they split ways up to him being discovered by Dean and Cas. If there's interest in such a story, that is.
Dean didn't realize how much he needed this physical contact until he grabbed Sam's hand. His flesh is rough and calloused, but it's warm and reminds him of a young Sammy who wasn't allowed to cross the street on his own and always preferred to hold Dean's hand instead of their father's.
He doesn't know where to start, or even what Sam wants to hear about, if anything at the moment. Dean feels drained after his tirade, and he doesn't think that he'd be able to cover everything in one sitting anyway. Too much has happened since they went their separate ways.
"It would be easier if you could just ask questions about what you wanted to know," Dean says.
Sam blinks once. Yeah, it would be, Dean fills in for him, nearly able to hear him say it.
"Did Cas, uh, tell you much?"
Two blinks. Did Cas ever tell him much?
"Did he tell you anything about the world?"
Two blinks again, but Dean isn't surprised. Cas isn't the type to talk without a reason to, unless he wants answers or has to answer questions directed to him.
"Well, welcome to Camp Chitaqua, I guess," Dean says. "A shitty place in a shitty world, but at least we haven't been overrun by Croats yet."
Sam doesn't have a response. Dean feels a little childish holding a one-sided conversation, like he's talking to an imaginary friend or a stuffed animal, but he said that he was willing to try to understand Sam. This is the first part of understanding each other: understanding their world.
"You know Croats?"
One blink.
"You run into them a lot while you were… well, you know?"
One blink.
"I guess you're lucky to have immunity from it."
Dean wishes that they had someone in Camp Chitaqua who knew how to figure out why Sam is immune to the Croatoan virus. If that immunity could be replicated, they could save the remaining human population and weed out Croats more effectively with less risk.
They fall into silence, and Dean breaks it by saying, "I, uh, don't really know where to start or what to do here. You'd think that I'd have a clue after pretending I had all the answers for years, but I'm stumped."
Sam squeezes his hand, and Dean doesn't know what that means. Reassurance, maybe. That Sam's willing to give him time if he'll give Sam time. He just knows that Sam's grip is far too weak. He knows that Sam is far too vulnerable in his current state. If they have a Croat attack, he'll be helpless.
No, he can't stay in the infirmary forever. As much as he'd like for it to be protected, the only uninjured and not sick person regularly at the infirmary is David or Annette. It's not secure.
Beyond the fence they erected around the village, and the guards posted there, the village is much less safe than he would like. But this isn't an ideal world, and doing what they can doesn't mean they're doing enough.
Sam needs to be moved, and Dean needs to talk to Chuck before that. But where are they going to put him? He can't live on his own; he can barely move. At the same time, staying in the infirmary isn't doing anything for him. He doesn't have injuries that require constant care; his cuts having healed in the time since they found him.
The biggest problems are his scarred burns, his lack of mobility, and his inability to talk, and those are problems they aren't equipped to treat.
The prognosis is grim, but the doctors have no idea. They have no fucking idea what, exactly, is sapping Sam's strength, because it's not natural.
He really fucking hates witches. They mess around with power they don't understand, and willingly hurt innocent people for their own gain.
The doctors offer to make Sam comfortable, and Dean knows that it's just the nice way to say that they don't think he has a chance of making it.
So, John signs Sam out of the hospital, and Dean sets him up on a mountain of pillows on one of the motel beds. He can't even sit up on his own anymore, but he still gives them weak smiles at every turn. His pale skin blends too well into the bed sheets, and the smallest of movements leave him gasping to catch his breath.
Dean would give his own breath if it could take away Sam's pain.
"We're gonna get the witch who did this to you, Sammy," Dean says. "Dad's gonna hunt the bitch down and make her pay. You're gonna be fine."
"I know," Sam says.
He's down to keeping his sentences as short as possible to rest his feeble lungs.
The one thing that Dean is glad to know is that killing the witch will end the spell. She's just a human who dabbles in things she doesn't fully understand to make herself into a wanna-be shtriga by drawing on the strength of others to make herself stronger until her victims died, their bodies too weak to continue functioning.
He refuses to let that be Sam's fate. It was bad enough when an actual shtriga almost got him (would've gotten him, without John's intervention), but to have a twisted human try to take his life in almost the same way?
That wasn't happening. As long as John could find her, it wouldn't happen. Dean just needs to keep Sam alive until then.
He'd do anything to switch places with Sam.
"You'll be just fine," Dean says. He sits next to Sam on the bed, remote in hand. "What do you feel like watching?"
It's a useless question, they get only a handful of channels in their motel room, but he wants Sam to have choices. He wants Sam to feel like he has a little bit of influence in this shit life for which neither of them asked.
Sam says, "Whatever."
Dean nods. Sam probably has a lot of ideas as to what he'd like to watch, but he's too weak to get out more than one word. So, Dean flips through the channels, keeping an eye on Sam's reaction to each show until he finds one in which Sam seems interested.
He sets the remote aside and slings his arm across Sam's shoulders, letting him lean against him. He doesn't want Sam to feel alone. If they face the worst-case scenario and John can't find the witch, he wants Sam to feel cared for. It's the only thing he can do for Sam at this point.
Dean's well-versed in the feeling that comes with being unable to help Sam in his times of need, but he never imagined he'd feel it again after Sam said 'yes' to Lucifer.
But here he is, holding one of Sam's hands and staring at his face, half-covered in burn scars received in ways that Dean doesn't know. Here he is, grasping the hand of someone for whom he wished he'd never sold his soul, if only to prevent the string of events that followed his trip to Hell.
The boy who faced more life-threatening situations than anyone should, whom Dean tried so hard to protect over the years, was in front of him. Sam may be grown, but Dean suspects that there's still that same purity in him. The purity he had before they went separate ways.
How has it taken him so long to realize this? How could he let the story he created to fill in the blanks blind him to the point that he said terrible things and others needed to beat sense into him before he was even willing to be civil near Sam?
He doesn't like the person that he's become in this post-Apocalyptic world, but he doesn't know how to be anyone else anymore.
"We should probably move you out of here," Dean says. "There's nothing David or Annette can really do for you anymore. Maybe if we had the medical technology we used to, but not these days."
Sam blinks once.
"Do you know if you'll be able to talk?" Dean asks.
Two blinks.
"Well, I mean, it's not like your tongue or your voice box cut out, right?"
Sam blinks twice again.
"So, it's just a waiting game."
One blink.
Dean didn't realize the gravity of Sam's inability to talk at first, but now he's scared that he'll never hear Sam's voice again. It isn't something that he's allowed himself to think about over the years, and he tells himself that it's because Sam being able to speak is imperative to Dean finding out the story that lead to the end of the world.
But there's more to it.
He remembers a Sam who was never afraid to speak up for himself or make his opinion heard. He remembers a Sam who stood up to their father's orders when he believed that they were wrong. A Sam who would use that soft tone of his to calm victims or grieving families.
It's strange how the story he made up and the hate behind it blocked out his memories of a softer Sam. A Sam who never wanted to hurt others, and never wanted to see others in pain.
Dean stands up and sets Sam's hand on the bed, ignoring the sudden fear and confusion that fill his eyes.
"There are some things I have to take care of," he says. "I'll be back."
As he leaves, he wonders what Sam would say if he could speak beyond answering simple questions. He wonders if Sam would have good things to say about Dean. If he's glad that they've stumbled back into each other's lives.
If he had to guess, he'd say the answer is 'no'.
He seeks out Chuck, not knowing if Cas would have the information for which he's searching. Besides, he needs to ask Chuck for a favor, even if he knows that he doesn't deserve any favors from the people who had to drill it into him that it's Sam at the infirmary.
He feels pretty low about the way he's been acting now that he doesn't have leadership to occupy him. He's no longer in charge of taking care of a village worth of people. It's no longer his job to find solutions for any problems they might face. It's no longer his job to make a plan for their long-term survival, or to figure out how to start advancing as a society again.
While those are all things he will continue to worry about, late at night when his brain is too caught up in thoughts of the future to sleep, they are no longer things for which he's responsible. He doesn't have to have the answers. He doesn't have to be the one to find the answers he doesn't have.
He's just another villager at Camp Chitaqua.
It's been a few hours since his meeting that morning, where he stepped down, and a brisk walk through the paths of the village lets him know that Chuck has most likely returned to his own cabin.
He finds himself knocking at Chuck's door again, all too aware of how familiar this is becoming.
"Dean?" Chuck asks, opening the door just enough to see Dean on the other side. "I thought—I hoped—that you would be with Sam after the meeting this morning."
"I have been, but I needed to talk to you."
"About what?"
Dean stands, and waits until Chuck lets him into his cabin and shuts the door.
"I think we should move him out of the infirmary. There's nothing they can do for him at this point."
"Well, where would he go?" Chuck asks. "He won't be able to live on his own, not when he can barely move."
"I know," Dean says. "What happened after I left, by the way? Do we have a new leader at Camp Chitaqua?"
"No one disagreed with you about Beth, and she was willing to take up the role."
Dean nods. "Could you ask her to keep her eye out for a decent mattress and bedding during the next supply run? Maybe even for some sort of burn cream or lotion or something, too?"
"For Sam?"
"Yeah."
"I'm glad that you're stepping up, Dean," Chuck says. "I don't know if Beth will be able to get those things, but I can ask her, at least. But why not take one of the beds from the quarantine cabin? We don't need as many as we have in there anymore. I mean, we barely even use that cabin these days."
"I guess we could do that," Dean says. He has no reason to not take one of the beds from the cabin, and they already have bedding on those beds. "Where are we going to put it?"
"If we rearrange your bedroom, I think we could fit another bed in there. Then, you'll be nearby if Sam needs you."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean asks.
Chuck pinches his eyebrows together in his confusion, opening his mouth and closing it a few times like a fish before he says, "I thought… You said you wanted to move Sam out of the infirmary?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he's coming to live with me."
Dean's not ready for that. He's not sure he can handle going back to living in such close quarters with Sam again, not when it's taken him this long to not try to verbally wound him every time they're in the same room.
"Where else would he live?" Chuck asks.
"With you. With Cas. I don't know. But… not with me. I can't take care of him, Chuck. I just can't."
"Why not?" Chuck asks. "You've taken care of him for years. I've watched both of you for years, and I've seen how much you love him."
"Things are different this time."
"They're only different because you're making them different," Chuck says.
"I'm doing my best," Dean says. "But this is all insane. He was never supposed to come back, and I'm doing my best to put aside what I told myself for years to deal with that. Give me a break, Chuck."
"You wouldn't have given Sam a break without others telling you to."
"I don't want to do this right now. Just see if Beth can find something useful for old burns on the next supply run. And… don't move any beds yet."
Dean leaves without giving Chuck the chance to respond.
Dean stands in his bedroom. Chuck is right, there's enough room for two beds if they do a little rearranging. But what does that mean for his relationship with Sam? He can't even bring himself to speak Sam's name aloud, how can he give him the care he needs?
He's really not the person Sam needs. He doesn't know how to be the person Sam needs anymore.
If he tries and fails, then it'll be Sam who pays for it. Oddly enough, the weight of being Sam's caretaker is heavier than the weight of leading Camp Chitaqua.
The job he once threw himself into now scares him, and he just… can't do it.
Yet, he starts moving pieces of furniture from his bedroom. Furniture he has no reason to use, and most of it was in poor shape when he first claimed the cabin as his own, but they work with what they have.
There isn't much for him to move, and he leaves his bed in the room, but he confirms once again that Chuck was right when he said that there would be enough space for two beds.
He almost wishes that Chuck had been wrong. It would've given him a solid excuse to find somewhere else for Sam to live.
But as it is, he has no excuse to turn Sam away. He has no reason to have Sam stay somewhere else, and he knows that Cas and Chuck will make sure he never hears the end of it if he sends Sam to live with anyone other than him. Hell, maybe even David would join them, now that he knows Sam and him are brothers.
He's living the dream of many villagers: to be reunited with someone from their past. Someone they assume to be dead (but, being fair, Dean knew that Sam technically wasn't dead).
Did he ever hope for reuniting with Sam over their years apart? He can't remember ever holding onto such a hope, but it would've been very unlikely at that time. He never thought that Sam would be anything other than Lucifer's vessel after he let Lucifer in. He believed that such an event would be impossible.
Why would Lucifer let go of his vessel?
It's just another question of 'why' that Dean isn't sure will be answered. Sam can't speak. No one knows if he will ever be able to speak.
He sits on the edge of his bed, looking at the newly emptied space in his room and seeing endless motel rooms shared with Sam over the years.
It feels like they're coming full circle.
Dean didn't go back to the infirmary that day, and his night was filled with dreams of Sam disappearing from his life again. Flagstaff. Stanford. Lafayette.
Sam disappeared from his life too many times, and the last time was because Dean sent him away.
There's a real fear that settles in him at the possibility that Sam will leave again, even if it's physically impossible for him to do so of his own free will while he's recovering. But it's been so many years since he felt such a raw fear over something he can't control.
He can't control who lives or dies to Croats, but he can help keep others as safe as he can.
He can't control Sam, but he can give Sam reasons to stay. Reasons to try to get as well as he can.
He's never been one to believe in a greater good or in the idea that everything happens for a reason, but what if?
What if there's a reason that Sam is back? A reason that Cas' grace started to return just in time for them to find Sam in a relatively nearby location? A reason that Cas and Chuck are trying so hard to get him to reconnect with Sam?
What do they know that Dean doesn't?
Well, they know that Sam felt like he had no choice but to let Lucifer use him, which Dean has done his best to deny. They know that Sam didn't rid himself of Lucifer, so there has to have been someone—or something—else involved.
He steps out of his cabin, and Cas is there, waiting.
"Cas," Dean says, "I can't say I expected to see you this early."
"I talked to Chuck, and then to Sam."
"Let me guess, you want to move him in with me, too?"
"Sam wants to move in with you," Cas says. "I asked him, and I'm not surprised that he still wants to live with you despite the way you've been treating him since we brought him back."
"I talked to him yesterday, and I was civil," Dean says.
"But you still don't get it."
"Get what?"
"You and Sam are connected in ways that transcend merely being born to the same parents. Your very souls are bound together," Cas says. "I knew it long before either of you were born. All of Heaven and Hell know this. And you know it, too, on a subconscious level. As you held onto your anger towards Sam over the years, you grew angry at yourself. When you started to hate Sam, you hated yourself."
Dean balls his hands into fists, using every bit of restraint to keep from punching Cas. He's doing his goddamn best, what can't that be good enough?
"Now, as you're starting to repair your broken relationship, you feel something inside you being repaired as well, don't you? Feelings that you've all but forgotten."
Dean doesn't have anything to say. He does feel things he hasn't in a long time, but none of that means he wants to go back to his world revolving around Sam (as much as he wants to convince himself that it doesn't already). He's afraid that going back to him and Sam living in each other's back pocket will lead to him resenting Sam again.
Maybe Sam will realize that he just isn't the person he once was. He isn't fit to take care of a human who will be so dependent upon him.
"Cas…"
"What will Sam think if you send him to live with someone else?" Cas asks.
"I don't—"
"Dean, if you want him to get better, you need to give him a reason. Do you think that he'd try for anyone else other than you?"
Dean shrugs.
"This will be good for both of you, and you won't be alone if you need help. But you need someone to take care of. You need someone who needs you, and that's Sam. It's always been Sam."
"Fine," Dean spits out. He doesn't want to admit that Cas might be right, but he also knows that he will never be left alone about this unless he agrees to it. "He can move into my cabin."
Dean just hopes that he's doing the right thing.
A/N: Please leave a review!