Thank you so much Jenjoremy for catching all my mistakes and Gredelina1 for supporting. Thank you all for reading.
I am heading to Sweden on Wednesday to see Gredelina1, so I might not be able to reply to reviews individually and get out the quick updates the same. I will do my best, but if I miss you, know I am so grateful to you all and I will post as soon as I can. Much love and Happy Holidays xxx
Chapter Nine
Dean looked into the mirror as he washed his hands and saw the smudge of blood under his ear that he had missed when cleaning himself up. Sickened at the thought of his brother's blood painting him all night, he scrubbed it away with his wet hands. Even when it was gone, he thought he could feel it. His washed his face and patted it dry then stared into the mirror again. His face was clear of blood but not horror. His eyes were haunted and he was wan. He thought it was going to take Sam waking up and talking to him for him to lose that look. That was what he needed, but Sam needed rest and peace still.
He turned away from his own reflection and walked out into the hall. He was so set on getting back to Sam that he didn't immediately notice Jack waiting in the hall. It wasn't until he spoke his name softly that Dean stopped.
"Can I talk to you?" Jack asked.
Dean didn't want to talk, he wanted to be with Sam already, but he owed Jack the chance to speak and the kid clearly needed it. He nodded and said, "How are you doing?"
Jack looked shocked at the mild question, and Dean thought he saw a little spark in his eyes, but he answered seriously. "I am feeling very bad."
"You're not alone in that," Dean said.
"When Sam was taken away, I felt guilty, and then when we discovered where he was, it was much harder. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel worse than I already did, but seeing Sam now, seeing how much he has been hurt and watching him die, was unbearable. I understand why you were so angry now, because you knew what was happening to him."
"I didn't know," Dean said. "I suspected. Me and Sam have what we call Winchester luck."
"Luck is a good thing, right?"
"Not for us. What we mean is that we have none. If something can go wrong, it usually will for us. We have been living a crap-storm for years, with only the smallest breaks and successes for us. We save other people all the time, at least we try, but it's like the times we're actually able to save them takes all the good luck and we're left with none. I figured Sam was living the worst case wherever he was because that's how it works for us, but even I didn't know that it was going to be this bad. I never thought he would die because of it. Not properly. What Michael did to him in the Cage was torture him, that's the injuries you can see now, but it would have been worse for Sam when he was in there. Michael would have kept hurting Sam until he died, and then he would have waited until he was healed to start all over again."
"Sam died a lot?" Jack asked.
Dean nodded. "I don't know exactly how long it was for Sam, but it's safe to say he died at least once every day he was there, and that adds up to…"
"Thousands," Jack breathed. "Castiel explained the difference in time. Did Sam really die all those times?"
"Probably more," Dean said. "So, yeah, I was angry because I guessed that was what was happening to him."
"I am so sorry," Jack said emphatically. "I would never have… I didn't mean…"
"I know," Dean said. "I get it. You couldn't control what happened. See, I thought you were all Lucifer inside, but I see now that your mother is a big part of you, too. I don't know if you're a threat to us, you're definitely dangerous, but you did some incredible things lately, and for that I owe you."
Jack smiled tentatively. "I opened the door."
"You did, and you did more. You made it possible for us to get Sam back, and you took out Michael—at least for a while. I think he would have killed us all if you hadn't, and you helped Cas bring Sam back. I owe you for all of our lives this time. Thank you, Jack."
Jack's eyes were wet as he looked at him. "I wanted to help."
"I know. I have screwed up wanting to help in the past. I'm not saying what you did, trapping Sam, was good, but you didn't do it to hurt him. It was an accident. I couldn't see that before. I was too angry. Truth is, I have screwed up a few times before, too. I have made bad choices and I have acted in anger."
He remembered Gadreel, how he had been so desperate to save Sam that he had tricked him into being a vessel again. That had ended with the loss of Kevin. He had also acted in anger, banishing Sam when he should have been reaching for him before Lilith was killed, and that had ended in disaster. He understood anger and he understood guilt and regret. He thought Jack had been suffering enough already for his mistake without him throwing it back at him. That had been another mistake he'd made. If he had been easier on Jack, he might have progressed faster and saved Sam sooner.
"I've let people down, Jack, and so has Sam, but we've learned that we have to stow it and focus on helping the next person. You running over what happened, feeling guilty, isn't going to help you rest and get back your strength. You and Cas are the only ones that can save Sam, so do what you can to speed it up by taking care of yourself. That's the best way to make it right. Sam would tell you the same if he could. He'd probably do it with a soppy look and a speech about forgiving yourself, but the message is the same. Do what you can to save him, and we'll all be good."
Jack nodded eagerly. "I will. I promise I won't let him down again."
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the kid not to make promises he might not be able to keep, but he realized he still hadn't learned that lesson. He'd told Sam he would be fine, and he'd been killed instead.
"I need to get back," he said. "You go rest, or breathe, or whatever it is Cas has you doing. Just take care and come when it's time."
"Okay." Jack walked away, and Dean noticed that his head was held high and there was lightness in his step that hadn't been there before. It made him realize he hadn't been the only one with something dragging him down.
He went back to Sam's bedroom and eased open the door. Mary raised her head from the pillow slowly and blinked blearily. "Dean?"
"Yeah."
She looked at Sam and her face cleared of sleep. She had been lying on the other side of the bed to Sam, holding his hand. She carefully placed his hand at his side again and sat up slowly so as not to jostle him. She leaned back against the headboard and curled her legs under her. Her eyes on Sam, she said, "I used to do this with you when you were sick. I'd spend all night lying with you in case you woke up and needed me."
"I remember," Dean said. "You would always sing me back to sleep, too."
"Hey Jude," she said with a sad smile.
"Yeah. I would sometimes tell you I was sick, even when I was starting to feel better, just so you'd stay with me a little longer."
"I know," she said. At Dean's surprised look, she smiled. "You can't fool your mom, Dean."
"I guess not," Dean said, wondering what other sins and lies she knew that he had been trying to hide from her.
She nodded. "And your dad would sit with you while I made your soup."
"Tomato-rice," Dean said.
"Yep. You loved it, but would only eat it when you were sick."
"That was what made it special," Dean said with a pang of sadness for his lost childhood.
He hadn't thought of those days, with his mother and father taking care of him, for so long. When he was old enough to realize it hurt less to not think about those times, he tried to stop it. He couldn't always control it, sometimes he had to remember when Sam would beg him to talk about their mom, but it grew easier when they got older and Sam stopped asking.
"I wish I could help as easily as making him soup and lying with him," she said.
"Yeah," Dean said. "Me too. It's never easy when he's hurt, but this is the worst I can think of."
"He died. I never knew there could be anything in life that could hurt as much as losing one of you."
Dean understood how she felt, but he knew there was worse for him. He had seen Sam die, and it was always horrific and agonizing, but he'd learned it was harder when he didn't die. When he did, he was at peace. It was when he lived and suffered that Dean hated even more. With death, for them at least, there was hope, but he had never been able to bear seeing Sam in pain.
"How do you get through it?" she asked. "You've seen it before. How do you cope?"
"You don't. There is no way to get over it. You have to find a way to live with the memories and nightmares and keep going on. We all have to, Sam included. We've seen a lot in our lives, but for us, seeing something like this is worse than Hell."
Mary shook her head. "I hate that you can both know how that feels to make the comparison."
"Me too. It is what it is though. You have to take the victories you can find when you can."
She fell silent for a moment and then said, "Do you think he'll be okay?"
"Yeah. Cas will be able to heal him eventually with Jack's help. He'll be back on his feet."
"That's not what I meant. Castiel will heal him, yes, but will Sam find a way to live with these new nightmares and memories? You said it broke him before."
Dean had been wondering the same thing. He had no clear-cut answers for her, but he told her what he had been telling himself. "It wasn't for so long this time. Last time it was almost two centuries that broke him, Castiel took the experience from him, but he didn't take the memories. Sam still remembers what happened; he just doesn't feel them the way he did before."
"Do you think he can do that for him again?"
"I don't know. If it comes to it, I know he'll try. Sam is strong though, and it's different this time. When he broke before, I was pretty broken, too, and I couldn't be what he needed me to be to help him through it. Cas had been killed, at least we thought he had, and the world was in the toilet. Sam needed comfort and care, and though I did what I could, it wasn't enough. I'm just not good at that stuff. But you're here now. You can be what I can't."
Mary looked pleased, perhaps at the reassurance that there was a place for her in this. Dean knew she was going to be needed. Sam never had a mom, he'd had a mother in the last year, but it was different. It was a mom he was going to need now. She would need it, too. If things were as bad as Dean was scared they were going to be, she was going to suffer with Sam, because watching someone you loved going through something like this was more than words could describe.
Mary and Dean sat for a long time, just watching Sam and talking occasionally. Mary stroked a hand over him, smoothing his hair and feeling the chill of his cheeks. They'd bundled him with blankets and cranked up the antique heating, but he was still cold. Mary thought it was a side effect of his injuries, and she hoped when Castiel next healed him it would help.
At the forefront of her mind at all times was the warning Castiel had given them about Sam perhaps failing again. With each occasional long breath he drew or extended sigh, she thought they were losing him, but Sam kept going, fighting, and she liked to think that it was because he knew they were there with him; he could feel her beside him, hear Dean's voice, and know they needed him.
She was lost in thoughts of how they would help Sam when he was awake again when there was a knock on the door and Castiel peered in with Jack behind him.
"Is it time?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes," Castiel said. "We're both ready."
They came in and walked to the bed, and Mary pulled back her hand from Sam and Dean stood.
"Dean, can you check the chest wound?" Castiel asked. "We need to know its state of repair as I'm going to focus on that most of all."
Dean unzipped Sam's hoodie and peeled back the side of the large dressing on the center of Sam's chest, holding his hands so Mary's view was blocked. She was selfishly glad. She didn't want to see that injury close up. Seeing it inflicted had been bad enough for her.
"Okay," he said. "Get on with it."
Castiel laid his hand on Sam's forehead and Jack gripped his shoulder. "Just like last time, Jack," he said. "Send me as much as you spare."
Jack concentrated and his eyes glowed golden as light passed through his hand to Castiel and down the angel's arm. The light burgeoned beneath Castiel's hand with a golden cast to it. Castiel frowned and Mary fixed her eyes on Sam's face.
"It's working," Dean said. "I can see it."
"Good," Castiel said in a strained voice. It lasted longer than last time, perhaps as Jack was rested whereas before he had been drained from opening the rift to the Cage, but it still didn't seem long enough before Castiel withdrew his hand and said, "Okay, Jack. That's enough."
Jack moved back and Castiel examined the wound beneath the dressing. "That's much better."
"He's still out though," Dean said. "He has to be in pain. Why is there no sign of it?"
"He's stronger, Dean," Castiel said. "I can feel it." He looked back over his shoulder. "Can you, Jack?"
"Yes," he said tiredly. "I can feel him starting to reach again."
"Reach?" Dean asked.
"It means he's doing better," Castiel said. "He's fighting to come back."
Mary reached for Sam's face again and stroked it. "Hear that, honey? You're doing better. And we're here waiting for you, so keep fighting, okay?" She watched Sam for any sign of reaction, but here was none. His eyes were still beneath their lids and his breaths shallow. She thought he had a little more color though, and he felt a little warmer. He was healing, even if he couldn't talk to her yet.
Dean resealed the dressing again, zipped the hoodie and sat down. "Thanks Cas, Jack."
Mary was startled that he included Jack in his thanks, and Castiel obviously was, too. Jack seemed pleased but not as surprised as Mary would have expected. She suspected there had been a conversation that she'd not been party to. She was glad. Jack needed a break, and Dean needed to let it go and accept what had happened and what Jack had done for them and Sam.
"Jack, you should eat something," Castiel said. "And rest." He looked from Dean to Mary. "You should both eat, too. Sam needs you to be strong when he wakes."
Mary nodded. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to leave her boys, and she was sure Dean didn't want to leave them either.
"I'll bring something to you," Castiel said.
"And coffee," Dean said.
"And coffee," Castiel agreed. "Though real rest might be better for you, Dean. Have you slept at all?"
"A little," Dean said.
"Try for more," Mary said. "I will wake you if anything changes."
"Maybe later."
Castiel cast Mary a pointed look and she nodded. She would encourage Dean to sleep some more when he'd eaten.
He and Jack left the room and Mary turned her attention to Sam again. He was definitely warmer now, and his color seemed to be improving even more. She wondered if there was some latent effect to Castiel's healing or if this was Sam's own body taking the strain.
Dean leaned forward in his chair and looked at him, too. "Something's different," he said carefully.
"Yes!" She was pleased he had noticed it, too. "He's warmer, and look at his color."
Dean got up and walked toward the bed. He held the back of his hand against Sam's cheek and nodded. "Definitely warmer." He frowned down at him and then sucked in a breath. "Sammy?"
Mary had seen it, too. Sam's eyes were moving under their lids.
"Sam?" she said, leaning close to him and stroking his cheek. "Wake up, honey. We're here."
Sam's eyes opened a sliver and she felt tears burn her own. Sam's closed again and then opened fully. He blinked up a there then he looked at Dean.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said in a choked voice. "About time you woke up."
Sam frowned and opened his mouth. It looked like he was speaking, but there was no volume to his words.
Dean leaned closer. "Try again, buddy. We can't hear you."
Sam licked his lips and said in a whisper that didn't decrease his obvious certainty. "You're not real."
"No!" Dean gasped. "Sammy, look at me. It's me, Dean, I'm really here."
Sam shook his head ever so slightly as his eyes fell closed again. "Not real."
Dean straightened and turned away from them. His breath came harshly, and Mary knew he was crying. She patted Sam's hand and then stood and walked around the bed to Dean. She touched his shoulder and he sucked in a breath and wiped at his face before looking at her.
"It's okay," she said. "He's just confused. He was awake though. He woke up already. He's going to be okay."
"No, he's not. It's happening again. It's just like last time."
"It's shock," Mary said. "He didn't expect to see us, that's all. When he's awake properly, we can explain."
Dean shook his head. "No. I know this. It's…" He paled. "Sam? Sammy!"
He pushed past her, and Mary spun to see what it was that had scared him. She saw it at once as Dean patted his cheeks and held his hand over Sam's mouth.
He wasn't breathing.
So… That happened. Again. Sorry? Tune in next time for more angst and drama.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx