Chapter 11

Sam was right; apologizing to Dean was harder than he thought. He had tried awkwardly to try and apologize a few more times to his brother, but Dean had either cut him off or ignored him completely. Sam was still sure that he wasn't completely forgiven when Dean had pulled him to the table and shown him where his water glass and utensils were. He was completely sure when he accidentally knocked over the water glass and Dean didn't help him by picking it up. The water just dripped off the end of the table and made a small puddle on the hard floor. Sam bit his lip to hold back the emotions flowing through his system.

After dinner Sam sat next to Dean on the small couch; Dean was watching some random sitcom on the tube that he was sure Dean wasn't enjoying. It was just something to help suppress the feelings he knew Dean was feeling at the moment, but that didn't mean it was helping. He could feel the way Dean was holding himself, tense and restrained, as if Dean was struggling really hard not to slug him. The only other time Dean had been this tense was when they had been hunting the vampires in Montana and Sam had been pleading with Dean to listen to him. Dean had slugged him then, Sam hadn't taken it personally then, but he wouldn't blame his brother at all if he slugged him now.

Sam would welcome it at the moment, anything to get Dean to speak to him. He didn't like the way his attempts at conversation were ignored. Dean was only like this when he was really upset, and it would take a while for his brother to get over it. It put Sam on edge, knowing that the big explosion was not far away.

He had been stupid, he knew that, he shouldn't have pushed his brother so hard. He knew Dean was struggling just as much as he was with the situation, maybe even more so. He knew that Dean felt guilty for this whole thing to begin with on so many levels, and it wasn't even Dean's fault. It wasn't Dean's fault that Sam had been distracted during the hunt; it wasn't Dean's fault that the harpy had snatched Sam, and it wasn't Dean's fault that the bitch had attacked Sam's face with her razor sharp claws. Hell, if it hadn't been for Dean, Sam could have easily been killed that night. His ashes would be dancing through the empty field right now. Dean was never one for procrastination. Sam felt ill at the thought.

He couldn't imagine what Dean must have gone through, seeing him snatched and carried away by the giant birdlike creature. Or to find his body later badly damaged, and to find out that Sam's vision was gone, permanent or not. Dean was suffering the most, because he was suffering for both of them. Somehow, he had to make this right; he had to let Dean know that he didn't blame him, not at all. This wasn't Dean's fault…but knowing that himself and letting Dean know were two completely separate things. It wouldn't be easy.

The TV shut off with a click and Sam turned his head as the opposite side of the couch cushion sank a little further on Sam's side when Dean's weight left it.

"Dean?"

"I'm tired…can you get to bed on your own?" Dean's voice was cold; it wasn't really a question. Dean wasn't offering to help him.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam said quietly. He waited for Dean to say something else…anything else but Dean didn't. He shuffled off to the bedroom, leaving the door open for Sam, but didn't return. Sam sat and listened to the sounds of Dean getting ready for bed, his chin dropping to his chest as his brain worked in overdrive.

His hand squeezed the top of his walking stick tightly; it was the only thing keeping him stable at the moment. Something solid, something constant. He squeezed it so tightly his hand hurt and he finally released his tight grip, letting the cane fall to the floor with a clatter but not bothering to pick it up again. He sat like that, listening.

He heard Dean hesitate in the other room, but to his disappointment, Dean didn't come back to check on him. Almost as if knowing that Sam hadn't hurt himself so there was no reason to check. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and lifted both hands to cover them, rubbing them vigorously. He had never felt more alone; he couldn't do this on his own.

The world was dark and scary now; he couldn't protect himself properly anymore. He needed to have someone there, to watch his back. But what had he done? He had taken the one person that had done so, that had been there for him every step of the way. Had guided him, showed him, supported him, and thrown it all back in his face. Now he was facing this on his own and it terrified him. More than anything else in the world…this was the scariest thing he had ever faced.

He could feel his eyes burning, but not from tears. No, his tear ducts were still damaged from the attack. No, this was the time for his medication, the medication that would dull the pain and leave him blissfully pain free for the rest of the night until he needed to be medicated in the morning once more. But he couldn't do this on his own either. He needed help, needed to convince Dean that he needed him to help him…but the challenge was getting Dean to listen to him.

Sam sighed and leaned forward, his fingers brushing along the floor until he found his walking stick once more. He grabbed it and pushed himself to his feet, letting the stick guide him through the living area and to the bedroom. He would talk to Dean, make him see reason. Apologize, get down on his knees if that was what Dean wanted, but either way he couldn't do this on his own anymore.

***
Dean pulled off both shirts and threw them to the corner of the room, not caring at all to put the dirty garments back into his duffel. He would take care of it in the morning if he felt like it. Right now all he wanted to do was lie down in the dark and gather his thoughts. So he pulled off jeans and tossed them into the corner as well before falling onto the bed closest to the door, burying his head in the pillow.

Dean gritted his teeth as he tried to get a little more comfortable. He was angry with himself for the way he had treated Sam earlier in the afternoon, being so cold and distant. But he had done it for a reason, as much as it had pained him to do it.

After Sam had tripped over the coffee table, breaking the glass and slicing open his hand in three different spots, Dean knew that Sam would have to learn the hard way that he couldn't do this on his own. That he would have to depend on someone else to help him through this, despite the Winchester stubbornness to depend on themselves.

So Dean had watched Sam struggle all afternoon…first fumbling around trying to find the bathroom, almost busting down the door when he heard Sam fall against the counter. Watching Sam knock over his water glass, and struggling with his fork over the TV dinner that Dean had whipped up. Dean had been tempted to reach over and help Sam but once again hadn't, he couldn't give in. If he did Sam might snap like he had earlier, Dean didn't think he could handle another fight at the moment. In fact he was sure that he couldn't. He was still struggling to get over the first.

Dean pushed himself to a sitting position when he heard a loud clatter of something hitting the floor from the living area and listened intently. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding until he was sure he heard the sounds of Sam's feet on the floor, meaning he wouldn't have to rush out there to find his brother in a tangle of limbs.

Dean leaned back and folded his arms across his chest while closing his eyes. His head rested against the headboard as he listened to the sounds of his brother feeling his way around the other room, slowly but surely making his way to the bedroom. Dean would wait, always in the shadows, ready at a moment's notice in case Sam needed him.

He was determined not to help him though, not until Sam came out and asked for it. It would be the best for both of them. That way Sam wouldn't fight him and Dean wouldn't have to coax. It would make it a lot more pleasant in the long run for both brothers.

Dean's eyes snapped open again when Sam bumped into the doorframe. Sam stopped, puzzled and cocked his head to one side, his blank eyes staring ahead at the wall before him, his free hand reaching out to feel the solid object.

Dean felt his mouth twitch as Sam pressed against the object for a moment before turning and walking straight for the small corner of the living area instead of into the bedroom.

"You're about to walk into the wall, Einstein."

Sam hesitated, spun around and let his cane smack the wall next to the door, feeling his way toward the opening until he finally found it. Satisfied, Sam made his way into the dark room and knocked his cane against everything as he walked, determined not to trip over anything this time.

"Dean, I need help." Sam muttered as he found his bed and sank onto the edge. Dean couldn't help but smile as Sam, the geek boy of the family, talked to the wall.

"You don't need help, Sam. You can do everything on your own."

Sam jerked in surprise from the direction that Dean's voice was coming in and turned, lifting one hand to his throbbing eyes. "Dean, please. It hurts."

Dean jumped up at that and was at Sam's side a second later. He lifted Sam's chin and peeled back the eyelids to look at Sam's bloodshot eyes. They were even painful to look at. "Ok, Sammy…just lie down I'll go get your meds." He twisted Sam's legs around so they were at the foot of the bed so all Sam had to do was lie back, and was surprised when Sam didn't even snort in disgust.

Sam merely moaned and did as he was told, his head finding the firm pillow. Dean hurried to the bathroom and opened up the small first aid kit, fishing around until he found the prescribed meds that the doctors had given him for Sam. He grabbed a small washcloth as well and returned to the bedroom.

Sam hadn't moved an inch, lying on his back, his arms by his sides, his feet barely staying on the foot of the bed, and his eyes closed. Red rings were still lingering around Sam's eyes, and the still present harpy scratches were barely starting to fade.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and popped the lid off the first medication bottle. "Ready Sam?"

Sam nodded slightly and didn't fight when Dean pulled open his left eyelid to squeeze a few drops of medicine into the eye.

Excess water and medication squeezed out from under Sam's closed eyelid when it was allowed to close once again. Dean gently wiped it away with the washcloth before moving onto the next eye, repeating the process. Dean then moved onto the raw skin surrounding Sam's eyes, wiping some sticky goop onto the irritated and sore skin, biting his lip when Sam hissed as he hit a particularly nasty spot.

Dean wiped his fingers on an unused corner of the washcloth and opened up the last bottle, palming a couple of the painkillers and pushing them into Sam's hand. He then grabbed the cup of water that had already been sitting on the bedside table and held it ready for when Sam needed it.

Sam popped the pills into his mouth and allowed Dean to press the cup of water to his lips, swallowing the liquid down gratefully to help wash down the pills and at the same time rid his mouth of the awful aftertaste.

Dean set the still half full cup back on the bedside table before he got off the bed, he made his way to his own and sank onto the mattress. He lay quietly staring at the ceiling, his eyes roaming over the small bumps and cracks that lingered there.

Sam's breathing was deep and rhythmic, slow even. Making Dean think that his brother had drifted off into a much needed sleep. So that explained why he was so startled when Sam spoke a moment later.

"Dean…"

Dean started and let out a slow breath. He should have known that Sam wouldn't have gone to sleep. Sam always had to drag things out. He silently counted to five before answering. "Go to sleep, Sam."

Dean heard the quiver in Sam's voice as Sam spoke again. "Dean, will you listen to me…just for a minute? Please?"

Dean sat up, ready to get this over with, anger brimming within him now. He didn't want to do this, Sam wasn't apologizing for the right reasons. "I heard you already, Sam. You said plenty. You can do this on your own…that's fine. But when you manage to come to your senses and learn that maybe sometimes you can't do everything on your own I'll be waiting."

"So that's why you're angry? You think I don't know that I need you?" Sam demanded, sitting up as well although he couldn't see his brother and his eyes were still burning from the medication. "I know that, Dean…that isn't the point."

"So what is your point, Sam? Because I would like to know!"

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, it was uncalled for. You were only trying to help."

"That's right, I was. I was only trying to make this easier on you but…oh wait. You can do this on your own. You don't need help. I forgot."

"Dean…"

"You know ,Sam, I tried help…I tried to be supportive…hell I even went so far as preparing ahead of time to make this was as easy as possible for you. But you just had to toss it all back in my face didn't you?"

"Like you've never done that?!" Sam was suddenly very mad, why was Dean pushing him? Did he want to fight?

"I've never been ungrateful for what I have, Sam."

"That's because you've never known anything more! You've adjusted to the fact that this is your life…you think this is all you are good for!" Sam pushed himself to his feet, his voice shaking in anger now. "You don't see the possibilities of what you could be doing, Dean. You and Dad were both so hell bent on revenge that you didn't look around to see the consequences and look at where that has gotten us!"

"Oh yeah and where's that…me stuck with you in a crap motel room? Is that what this is about, Sam? If it is...the door is in the other room, don't let it smack your ass on the way out."

"You're throwing me out? That's rich."

"I'm not doing anything, Sam. If you're so tired of this gig then you can go your separate way…go back to college and marry some chick. Have kids…be normal. Just don't expect me to join you there…it isn't going to happen."

"That isn't what I want, Dean!"

"Then what is it that you do want, Sam? Because I'm tired of trying to figure it out and doing what I think you want only to get it thrown back in my face!"

"I don't know…"

"Well you might want to figure that one out, Sam, and give me a call when you figure it out." Dean rolled off the bed. He gathered the blankets from the bed and grabbed one of the pillows as well. "I'm sleeping on the couch…goodnight!"

Sam frowned as Dean's footsteps disappeared into the other room. He waited a whole five seconds before he grabbed his walking stick and followed Dean, knocking into the doorframe once more but was fairly sure that he was going in the right direction to stop Dean.

Sam let his free hand feel the wall, pushing against something solid not a foot in front of him and turned in the direction he was sure Dean was in. He cleared his throat and took a step forward, he was rewarded with the cold hard floor of the living area. "I don't want to fight for one thing, Dean."

"Fine, then don't fight."

Sam would have rolled his eyes if they hadn't hurt so bad at the moment. "Dean, come on. Knock it off."

"Knock what off, Sam? What do you want from me? You either want my help or you don't…you can't have it both ways. You need to decide if you want me to help you out with this…because I'm not going to help you if you don't want it. If you are determined to do this on your own I won't stop you but I won't be the one to pull your head out of your ass later on. You get yourself into a mess and you'll be the one getting yourself out of it."

Dean's cold tone was startling to Sam and made him step back for a moment. Shock numbed every bit of him but eventually he was able to make his jaw unlock as his brain fumbled for something to shoot back. "I want my brother back, Dean."

Dean, who had been busy preparing his makeshift bed on the couch, turned in surprise. His eyebrows shooting up and his mouth parting slightly. "What?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I said I want my brother back. I need him to help me through this."

"Sam, I've been right here the whole time. What the hell are you talking about…?" Dean stopped short when Sam shook his head slowly.

"No you haven't. I mean sure part of you has been here, but, Dean, you haven't been there ever since Dad died."

"Sam…don't start!"

"No Dean, listen to me…please. You've been different…reckless, even cold. You haven't been the same…you haven't been yourself at all. You put on this whole act that you're fine when you're anything but and that isn't going to help either of us…especially not now. I need my brother back…"

Dean glared at his brother. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Sam…I'm fine. Nothing's bugging me…I told you I'm dealing with Dad's death…"

"How? By pushing me away? That isn't helping anything, Dean."

"I haven't been…"

"Want to make a bet? You won't talk to me about Dad's death, Dean. You're moody, you're quiet, you're distant, and worst of all you're downright scary when you hunt. You don't care who gets hurt in the process, just so long as you get your hunt in the bag. What's happening to you, Dean?"

"I don't need to take this." Dean said quietly crossing his arms over his chest although Sam couldn't see the gesture, Sam tensed anyway. He could hear the anger in Dean's voice…it was far angrier than Dean had been when they had faced the vampires, when Sam had confronted Dean about Gordon. He worried that this time he had pushed too far.

"Dean…wait."

"No Sam, you shut up now. You have issues with Dad's death, I know that and you know that. That's fine…you're dealing…but stop dumping your issues on me. I don't want to talk, I don't need to talk and if I did you'd be the first to know. I don't bug you with the way you're dealing with Dad's death so get the hell off my back and just leave me the hell alone."

He snatched his jacket off the back of the chair where he had thrown it and stormed into the bedroom. He was back a minute later, fully dressed and shrugging into his jacket. "I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back soon."

"Dean…please, don't go."

"I'm sure you'll be fine Sam. I'll be back." Dean crossed to the door and didn't bother looking back as he pulled it open and stepped out into the frosty night, letting the door slam shut behind him.

A moment later Sam heard the impala roar and tear out of the drive, to fade off into the distance. He sank down onto the floor, letting his cane slip out of his grasp and roll away without really caring. He would wait here until Dean came back. He had pushed Dean too far this time, he knew it. He didn't know exactly where he had crossed that line but he had to be sure that Dean was really going to come back. Dean had said he would...but Sam was uncertain. He was sure Dean would never just take off on him, but he doubted that he had ever pissed Dean off so badly before. He leaned his head against the wall and felt his eyes stinging with the water he was unable to shed.

"Dean…"