Disclaimer: I do not own the Winchesters, their friends, their enemies (except Jefferson Watts - he's mine), or their property. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine
Day Nine part 2
On reflection Sam wonders why he's so shocked. Dean's memory is bound to be sketchy at best, so it's not really a great surprise to find his brother has forgotten certain elements of his captivity. He didn't really want to go through this though. Not yet.
He lifts his head and looks Dean straight in the eye. He can sense Bobby moving round the room, as if he's looking for the best position to be in. He can imagine the older man trying to decide which Winchester is going to be in need of the most comfort. Sam wills him to make his choice, wants him to settle by Dean, ready to catch him when he falls. Because Sam is sure Dean will fall. He's sure his brother isn't ready for this. He's pretty sure he's not ready for this yet.
But Dean is looking at him with that look. The one that pleads, begs, demands and persuades all in one. Sam isn't sure when Dean perfected that look but he's not be able to resist it since he was 12 years old. He vaguely wonders how Dad ever got round it.
But then Dean coughs and Sam's attention is back on his brother. Who is propped up in bed, looking at him expectantly. He sighs, scrubs his hands through his hair, which badly needs washing, and reluctantly accepts that Dean isn't going to relax until he gets an answer.
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Bobby watches Sam keenly from his position on the hard chair by the table. He can see both boys from here and he reckons he can get to either one in a matter of seconds if the need arises. At the moment though, it's Sam he's worrying about the most. Sam, who looks as if Dean has just sucker punched him in the gut, who looks like he's scrabbling for words in that almighty brain of his.
He wants to put a stop to this but, as he listens to Sam draw breath, he knows it's too late for that. He knows Sam needs to get this off his chest as much as Dean needs to hear it. It's probably not the wisest decision he's ever made to let them go ahead with this. Bobby thinks they've both been through enough, thinks they need more time to gather themselves back together, knows that ultimately he's been overruled by the bonds of brotherhood.
Dean is looking at Sam anxiously, expectantly and Sam? He's just looking worn out and resigned. Bobby bites his tongue, pushes down the desire to gather Sam in his arms, resists the urge to send both boys back to bed, to sleep. Instead, he gives Sam what he hopes is a reassuring smile, casts a sideways look at Dean, and settles back for the show.
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Dean can see every little move Bobby makes. He's not lost his ability to take in everything around him. He knows the older man is worried about Sam. He thinks he should be worried too, judging by the look on his brother's face, but he has a sudden need to know what happened. He won't be able to sleep until his questions are answered. He doesn't think he wants to know but he needs to know.
But then Sam rocks his world with two words.
"Jefferson Watts."
And the room is wavering, he can't breathe, his head is going to float into the stratosphere and his body is failing him, falling back on to the soft mattress. He's not sure who gets to him first, Sam or Bobby, but he knows there are arms around his shoulders, he's being lowered gently down and there's a hand on his forehead.
He wants to shake them off but all he can do is shake his head in denial.
"He's dead. I killed him. Sam, he's dead." He repeats it over and over again. If he says it often enough, he thinks, maybe he can make it true.
The world is buzzing in his ears and he can vaguely hear a hissed conversation going on between Sam and Bobby. He hears Bobby telling Sam how he's not ready for this, he hears Sam agreeing, 'but this is Dean, what can I do?' and he wants to tell them he's okay, he can take this. But he doesn't really understand.
Jefferson Watts was nine years ago. Jefferson Watts is dead. Nine years dead. Why is Sammy taunting him with this? It was a hell of a hunt, one of the worst Dean has ever dealt with. Even Dad agreed the only thing to do was kill the man. So he did. First man he ever killed. Only man he's ever killed. And it wasn't a clean kill.
A little voice in the back of his head is telling him that Sam would never lie to him about something like this. He wonders if it was a shapeshifter but when he finally manages to get his idea heard Sam's eyes harden and he shakes his head.
"It was him, Dean."
*****
Sam could kick himself. What the hell was he thinking? There's no way Dean's ready for all the gory details. He's almost glad Dean's current state of health stopped the conversation before he had to go any further.
Dean's looking up at him with frightened eyes and it breaks Sam's heart to see it. He's still muttering under his breath, still trying to convince himself Sam's wrong. Sam thinks he needs to put a stop to this but Dean is slowly curling in on himself and Sam thinks it's already gone too far. He feels helpless and looks to Bobby for support.
Bobby's not much help though. He just shrugs at Sam and draws Sam away from Dean, out of his hearing. Sam is reluctant to leave Dean's side but Bobby is insistent, fingers closing round his arm, gentle but firm.
*****
Bobby isn't going to let this drag out any longer than it has to. He saw the look on Sam's face, he saw Dean's reaction and he knows now they've started they need to finish, for Sam's sake as much as Dean's. He wonders if Sam is going to get through the telling without the need for medicinal aid himself and, although it's still early in the day, he puts a glass of whiskey in Sam's hand, glares at him till it's gone and Sam's spluttering through the burn.
He slaps the boy on the back and steers him back to his brother, point made. Dean isn't looking much better but, on the plus side, he's not muttering anymore. Bobby checks his temperature, uses redressing Dean's wounds as an excuse for the boys to take a breather, to let Sam gather his thoughts, line his words up as best he can.
He's taken by surprise when Dean's hand lands on his shoulder as he's bent over the wounded man. He looks up, sees Dean's eyes flickering from Sam to himself and back to Sam again. He understands these boys better than they think. He knows Dean is shutting out his own feelings, again, and worrying about Sam.
He wants to put an end to whatever train of thought Dean's on right now. He rests his hand on Dean's face, pulls his head round to look him in the eye, and tells him as plainly as he can that Sam's okay, just a little tired and wouldn't they rather do this tomorrow?
It's no great shock to Bobby when Dean shakes his head and pulls away from him.
*****
"Sam?"
Sam hates how feeble his brother's voice still sounds, he hates the unvoiced question, he hates that Dean isn't going to rest until he's told the whole story. He wonders how much Dean remembers of Jefferson Watts, how much detail he's going to have to go into. If he's honest with himself he only wants to go over the bare minimum. He doesn't think Dean needs to know everything, not yet. Maybe in a few weeks, when he's recovered more, maybe then.
But looking at his brother's face, with the bruises settling nicely into his features, Sam knows he's going to have to make a start. So he takes a deep breath, makes sure Bobby is still in lunging distance, checks Dean is as ready as he's going to be, and makes a start.
*****
Bobby grits his teeth and prepares himself mentally for the fallout as Sam opens his mouth. But as Sam begins to talk he finds his attention is fully on the younger Winchester. Sure, he's got Dean in the corner of his eye, but he's totally focussed on the words coming out of Sam's mouth, soaking in what he's telling his older brother.
He listens, fascinated in a macabre sort of way, as Sam reminds Dean how, nine years ago, he wasn't to blame, how Jefferson Watts had it coming. He was an evil man and just as much a monster as the demons and black dogs and werewolves Dean had dispatched before that. He committed atrocious crimes and he had to be stopped.
He watches as Sam perches opposite Dean and lays a hand on his thigh. He sees the look of compassion and love as Sam reassures Dean that no, it wasn't an easy death for Watts but it had been Watts or Sam and Dean had had to make a choice and nobody could ever blame him for the road he took.
Dean never really had a choice, Bobby knows that without being told but somehow he thinks maybe Dean always thought he should have been able to save both Sam and Watts. He knows the Winchesters well enough to see how their minds work and he knows Dean will have pushed this to the back of his mind for years, letting it eat away at his conscience, quietly and pervasively.
He listens as Sam quickly recounts their movements and actions over the last week, noting with interest the parts he glosses over. He wonders if he's ever going to find out exactly how Sam got from the Impala to the basement. He was with Sam, he knows how the boy felt, he knows how exhausted and desperate he was at the time and he knows that, deep down, Dean must know it too.
And he knows that any minute now one or other of the Winchesters is going to crack.
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A/N: So, probably not as much information on Jefferson Watts as some of you were hoping for but do not despair - I have every intention of writing the whole Tale of Jefferson Watts as a companion piece to this. Sorry to keep you hanging ^_^
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