AN: So...I could give you all the reasons and excused about why it has taken me over a month to update this story, but I won't. It doesn't change how shamefully late this chapter is and I'm sure you have read them all before. What I will say is that I'm really sorry, and thank you. For those of you sticking with this piece, please know that I appreciate you. This chapter is a little short, but I promise that the next chapter won't take nearly so long to get to you and that I do have some "comfort" after all this angst.
Sam kept moving, sacrificing his usual silence for speed. Once Charlie disappeared into the flash of light, he had taken one look at the compass and headed out into the forest, desperate to get away from the glade and the concerned glances of his family. After everything that had happened, he wanted nothing more than to retreat into the semi-private comfort of the Impala. He let his long legs give him an advantage through the scrub and deadfall beneath the trees. As always, Dean was only a few steps away, but luckily his brother knew enough not to talk to him. Sam was eminently grateful. He felt raw, like he was frayed around the edges, that if Dean or anyone pulled too hard he would distort and tangle into something he could never begin to unknot.
He could avoid talking, but he couldn't avoid thinking. Over the years he had practically perfected his ability to compartmentalize. He'd had to. It was the only way he could keep functioning. It was how he could keep putting one foot in front of the other and do what needed to be done. It was how he could be there for Dean, Mom, Cas, and the rest of the people he considered his family. If the horror and trauma sometimes seeped into his nightmares well, that was just the cost of doing this business. He'd just take all the fear and pain and guilt, wall it up and never look too closely at it again. Normally he could push aside his emotions and just work the job, but tonight...well tonight he felt the plaster crack. He'd had so many of his failures thrown in his face over the past couple of hours that his emotions had spilled out like a freaking pinata.
Cas tugged on his arm lightly to bring him to a stop. At some point Dean had gone back to walk with Mom. Sam knew he should have noticed, that he should ask what was going on, but he couldn't find it in him to care right now. All he wanted was to keep moving as if that would stave off the wave of emotions that threatened to drag him under. Maybe it was already too late.
Shame and regret swirled through his head. He was unable to stop the dark thoughts and images that spiraled like a whirlpool, drowning him in a despair he usually kept deeply hidden. Jessica burning. Dad dead on that hospital floor. Dean's chest torn to ribbons. Charlie's crumpled body. Helpless. Useless. Unable to save any of them. When he closed his eyes, he could still see his hand burning the life out of Kevin, the fear in Bobby's expression when he'd almost stabbed him, and worse, the coldness in Dean's eyes as his brother held Death's scythe. Like film played at high speed, his brain showed him a bloody montage of the faces of all the people he couldn't save, the people who died because of him, the people he'd murdered. And over the whole soul crushing mess, like a horrific soundtrack, he could almost hear Lucifer's smug laugh. Sam shuddered and forced his eyes open.
"Are you okay, Sam?" the angel asked. Sam contemplated telling Cas the truth, but he wasn't entirely sure what the truth was. His thoughts were racing far too fast, so he gave his standard reply as he fiddled with the straps of the bag on his shoulder.
"I'm fine, Cas," he said and started walking again, a feeling of panic pushing him forward. Finding the car gave him something to focus on, something productive. Twigs slapped at his face and arms, but he ignored them. He just needed to get to the car.
After a while, Sam began to recognize the landmarks that meant that they were close to the service road where they'd parked. The pressure in his chest that had been building finally broke and it was all he could do to muffle a gasping sob of relief. He knew he was overreacting, anxious and tired, but he couldn't help it. Hopefully Dean and Cas didn't hear him. Everything tonight had been overwhelming and he couldn't talk about it with anyone until he'd had time to make some sense out of it all.
Another ten minutes or so, and Sam realized that the forest was beginning to thin out. The first rays of dawn were slowly lightening the darkness under the trees and he could make out the path that led to the blessed comfort of the car. Plunging forward, he stifled the urge to break into a run. He had to get back to the car where he could breath and get his bearings. Then he could begin the work of shoving everything back where it belonged.
xxxxxxx
No sooner had he rejoined Sam and Cas, when Dean regretted how he had snapped at Mom. He made it a point to keep an eye on her as they moved through the forest in Sam's wake. He wanted to make sure that she didn't fall behind. It had only been a couple of hours ago when he had thought about how much he wanted her to ask about his life. Now that she had, he found it intrusive. He didn't want to dig up the past. Much of what he and Sam had gone through were things he didn't want to remember. Some of it, he wished he could forget. Still, his experiences had made him into who he was, and he was generally okay with that now. But, that didn't mean he wanted to dredge everything up. Internally he laughed sourly at his own contradictions. He wanted to get close to Mom, but he wasn't entirely ready to open up to her. She was obviously distant and he didn't approve of what she was doing with the British Men of Letters, but he still longed for a connection with her. It was too damn confusing and he left pondering the problem for now. If he was honest, he was too worried about Sam right now to find thinking about their mother as anything other than a distraction.
Tonight had been a lot to deal with, and once they were home and safe, he'd allow himself to process it all, preferably with a whiskey in hand. But that wasn't how Sam worked, and his brother had been quiet - way too quiet, since they left the glade. Dean had already noted how Sam ignored the stinging branches and brambles that clawed at him. His brother was lost in his thoughts, and for Sam, that could be a dangerous place to be. Add to that the blistering pace Sam had set, and he knew that the kid was really struggling. Dean decided to let Sam be for now, just staying close as they walked through the forest. He figured he'd have plenty of time to pry Sam out of his head during the drive home. Somehow the purr of the engine and the hum of the tires always made talking in Baby easier.
After a while, Dean caught through the trees, the gleam from the first rays of sunshine flashing off of chrome. A few minutes later, he stepped out onto the access road where they had parked. The Impala glimmered darkly, patient and willing. Sam was already waiting by the trunk with the weapons bag in hand when Dean and Cas made their way over to the car. Mom stumbled out of the path right behind them. Sam didn't say anything and they all stood awkwardly as Dean fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sam.
"Well, I'm going to check on Claire before resuming my search for Kelly Kline," Cas rumbled. Sam was turned slightly away, putting the weapons back into the now open trunk, so he didn't respond, but Dean nodded in acknowledgement.
"Tell her we say Hi, and be careful." Cas glanced at Sam and gave Dean a short smile and a knowing look.
"I'll call if I find anything," and with that he strode over to his truck. Mom gave him a wave as he pulled out and drove off. Now that she was in front of him, Dean felt embarrassed by his previous outburst.
"Mom, I didn't mean to…," he sighed. "If you want to know something, you can..." he stammered, but she cut him off.
"It's fine Dean." He knew it wasn't, not really, but just then her phone chirped and she dug it out of her pocket and read the text. "I've got to go," she said with a wan smile or her own. Dean tried to keep his face neutral. They were playing nice with the Brits now, but that didn't mean he had to like how Mom jumped when they whistled. She shoved the phone back into her jeans.
"Uh, I'll call you," she said awkwardly. "Bye Dean. Bye Sam." Sam managed a soft goodbye, but he still didn't look up at Mom as she walked to her car.
Dean waved as she sped past, spitting dirt as she accelerated. With just the two of them in the soft light of the early morning and what sounded like the singing from a thousand birds in the treetops, Dean felt himself begin to relax. He loved Mom and Cas, but it was always more comfortable when it was just him and Sam. Tossing his own duffle into the car, he studied Sam as his brother moved towards the passenger side and folded his tall frame into the seat. Dean closed the trunk and took a deep breath of the clear, crisp air, letting the purity of the day wash over him. He'd do whatever it took to help Sammy deal. After all, taking care of his brother was his specialty. He climbed behind the wheel and pulled the door shut, eager to hit the road.