I'll Be Watching You – Chapter 11
Summary: Sam comes face to face with his past, and must deal with his buried feelings over the trauma he suffered eight years ago. Sequel to Every Breath You Take. Takes place directly after Home. Co-written Sendintheclowns and beta'd by Floralia.
"Everyone leaves me."
Dean almost fell off the edge of the bed Sam was draped over when his little brother suddenly spoke. His brother had been silent for so long that Dean had thought Sam had forgotten how to speak.
And it was funny – not funny like a clown but ironic – that Sam was putting voice to a sentiment Dean had long held.
Mary Winchester had left Dean when he was four; he knew his mom didn't want to go out in a fiery blaze but she'd left him nonetheless. Dean had focused all of his energy on his little brother and that had worked as a good distraction, at least until Sam left him for college. Then his dad had abandoned him for the hunt – sure, he was chasing after the thing that killed Dean's mom but he'd still managed to leave Dean in the lurch. He wasn't even sure which one hurt the most anymore but he certainly understood what Sam was feeling – everyone left.
Although if Heather had left, Dean could only count it as a blessing. That was one screwed up hoochie mama. And it wasn't bad enough that she seemed intent on destroying her own life – sucking people dry, like her husband for starters – but she kept managing to take Sam down with her.
"Heather's gone. She broke the link."
Sam's voice was shredded and desolate.
Dean heaved a sigh of relief and reached his hand out to touch Sam's leg, but then quickly withdrew it. He'd had to touch Sam in order to get him out of Heather's apartment and to Missouri's but that had been necessity. The act of touching Sam to comfort him scared the crap out of Dean; what if his brother's "powers" went haywire and Dean couldn't control himself again?
All Winchesters were control freaks but this latest episode had put a serious kink in Dean's self image. He was a totally hetero male who banged any female, long hair or short, as long as she was buxom and liked to play around.
He wasn't into monogamy. Dean had tried it once and it hadn't worked. Cassie had dumped him as soon as he disclosed the true nature of his job – hunting things that go bump in the night.
After that Dean had pursued his job with a single minded determination, and when he got a break he applied that same determination to the pursuit of happiness, preferably in bed with a likeminded female.
So the thought of getting his rocks off with a guy – never mind the fact that he hadn't been in control of his faculties – left him feeling queasy. The fact that the guy in question was his own brother was enough to send him off to a padded cell for some rest and relaxation.
His brother groaned, and it wasn't that 'panting in heat' groan he'd made earlier while Heather fucked with his head. Sam was in distress.
Sucking up his delicate sensibilities, Dean patted Sam awkwardly on the ankle. The ankle seemed a pretty safe bet; it wasn't an erogenous zone and it was far, far away from other areas. The ankle was safe.
Until Sam flexed it and Dean hastily jerked his hand away. "Sammy, you need to relax."
Before I clock you one, Dean silently added.
"Sorry, can't get comfortable."
Sam's wrists were still encased in rope, which was in turn wound around the headboard. But there was plenty of play with the rope and his little brother's arms rested on top of the bedspread. Dean was pretty sure Sam had forgotten he was even tied down but until he was sure Sam wouldn't go charging after Heather, or worse, he couldn't chance letting his brother loose.
Too much was riding on it. Sam's health – mental and physical – to be exact.
His brother licked his dry lips and stifled another groan. Hazel eyes darted around the room, flitting from surface to surface, never landing for very long. Dean felt like he was trapped with the poster child for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder.
Long legs suddenly jack-knifed up and Sam yelped. "Dean, my stomach, I need the bathroom."
Sam had tried other ploys to gain his freedom so he could high tail it after Heather, but when his little brother's stomach made an obscene rumbling noise, Dean was confident Sam was telling the truth. "Come on, the bathroom's down the hall."
Dean had palmed his knife and was leaning forward to cut Sam's hands free when his brother swung his legs off the bed and cried out sharply when his shoulders pulled from the pressure of his bonds; Dean had been right, Sam had forgotten he was tied down. With a minimum of fuss, Dean cut Sam loose and pulled him to his feet, steering him out of the bedroom and down the hallway.
There were no windows in the bathroom and the only way out was past Dean, so he waved Sam inside and closed the door. After the toilet was flushed multiple times, Dean pushed away from the doorframe and leaned against the wall across from the bathroom. He didn't need to hear the sound effects of Sam's upset stomach through the door.
At long last the door cracked open. "Is it okay if I clean up?"
His brother's shoulders were slumped and his eyes were red. Sam looked miserable. Struggling with the fact that his self sufficient brother was now reduced to asking permission to shower, Dean nodded his head yes.
Dean felt like he was back at ground zero with Sam, his brother behaving the same tentative way as he had when Heather first got her dirty hands on him and returned him to his family damaged when he was still just a kid.
Missouri walked down the hallway and placed a small hand on Dean's shoulder. "Hang in there, sweetie. It's going to be a rough little while but your brother will pull through. Now I'll play hall monitor while you get your brother some clean clothes.
He found himself obeying Missouri's commands without thought. Both he and Sam were whipped at the moment. The psychic harrumphed and Dean realized she'd read his thoughts. Normally it would have pissed him off but he was bone weary and couldn't work up the energy.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Dean saw that he wasn't looking much better than his brother. Bloodshot eyes. Pale, doughy skin. Slumped shoulders.
God, he couldn't wait for things to go back to the way they were BH…Before Heather.
-0-
Sam's legs nearly dumped him on the tile floor of the shower but he threw an arm out and caught his balance. The hot water felt good on his sore, cramped muscles but it wasn't working on the chills that periodically coursed through his tired body.
He was totally fucked up. He missed Heather. And if that didn't qualify him for some couch time with a psychiatrist he didn't know what did.
There was no acceptable explanation for his feelings. Heather had kidnapped him when he was fifteen, taught him all sorts of stuff like yoga, chakras and how to have sex without touching, and then disappeared from his life.
Until Sam insisted they come to Kansas. Almost all of his woes seemed tied to this state.
Tipping his head forehead, he leaned it against the tiled wall and let the hot spray pound his shoulders and back. His nose began to run and he snorted, trying to hold it back, but the snot continued to drain out as if it had a life of its own.
He was a disgusting mess.
A brief knock on the door preceded Dean's entrance. "Sam, you still in there? I can't see past all of this steam. Why don't you stick a fork in it…I think you're done."
Sam wanted to answer his brother – at least Dean was trying to speak and act normally and Sam appreciated the effort – but his breathing had picked up pace and he was too out of breath to speak.
Turning the shower off, Sam heard the door snick shut. He pulled back the curtain and found a large, fluffy blue towel draped on the rack and clean sweats, t-shirt, socks and boxers puddled next to the sink.
Tremors wracked his body as Sam briskly toweled off. His hips were killing him and he glanced down, surprised to see two, large purple hand prints pressed into his flesh. The bruising was substantial and he wondered if Heather had caused it. She certainly had the strength but these hands weren't dainty, they were substantial. If the angle were different, Sam would have thought he'd made them himself.
Sam quickly pulled on his clean clothes. He didn't even want to deal with the jeans and sweatshirt he'd shed before stepping into the shower; there were marks and stains all over them, inside and out, and he didn't want to think too hard on what had happened to cause them.
Nausea welled in the pit of his stomach and Sam splashed cold water on his face. First he was cold then hot…it was like being trapped with two of the bears from Goldilocks and he'd never be "just right" again.
All of this self pity was making his head ache and his stomach burn. He needed to get a grip, fast, or Dean would never trust him again. Not that Sam blamed him.
Opening the door he gracelessly tripped over his feet and stumbled out, his certain descent to the floor stopped when Dean braced a hand on his shoulder and hip. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as Dean made contact with one of the bruises and withdrew his hand as if burned.
"Hey, are you okay?"
For some reason Sam was embarrassed to tell Dean about the bruises. He had no memory of what had happened from the time they entered Heather's apartment until he woke up in the Impala on the way to Missouri's. Well, he had some vague memories, but nothing that would explain the marks on his hips.
"Um, yeah. I've got a bruise on my hip. And on the other one, too. Do you know…never mind. Forget I said anything."
Dean's face had blanched and then flooded with color, and that told Sam all he needed to know; he'd been bruised while he and Heather had forged their connection, a really really intimate connection if he was right, and it made his usually unrepressed brother tense up so it couldn't be good.
Sam had tried to ignore it but he realized Dean was uncomfortable around him, didn't want to touch him. Had a problem even looking at him. Something really bad must have gone down and it had left Dean disgusted with him.
Another wave of cramps pummeled Sam's muscles and he wrapped an arm around his middle while bending forward at the waist. He thought Dean was speaking to him but he was so busy trying to breathe through the pain that he wasn't sure.
-0-
Dean now knew firsthand what the phrase "deer caught in the headlights" meant as his brother asked him about the bruising on his hips.
Sam had stumbled and Dean had thrown his own arms out to balance him. He'd yanked his hand back as soon as it made contact with Sam's flank but when his brother hissed in discomfort, he'd automatically asked him if he was okay. After all, taking care of Sam was his job.
But Dean had never anticipated his brother asking about the bruises.
If he pretended they weren't there, Dean somehow thought Sam would, too.
His brother's question had dried up quickly but bewilderment was replaced with a sharp gasp of pain and Sam bent himself in half, his breath loud and panicked.
Missouri, ever attentive to Sam's changing needs, hustled up to the brothers. "I think he's suffering from withdrawal. Help me get him settled back in bed."
Dean tugged Sam's arm around his shoulder and propelled him back down the hallway and into the bedroom. Missouri deftly guided Sam's heavier body onto the freshly made bed and set about arranging him under the sheet and against the pillow.
Withdrawal implied a drug. Sam wasn't on drugs. Oh, Heather. His brother was addicted to a psychic vampire. The day just kept getting better and better.
"Take care of your brother while I get something for the pain."
Missouri would have made a fine general as she snapped off her command and strode from the bedroom, short legs churning down the hallway as she muttered about chamomile and lavender.
Sweat glistened on Sam's face and his body jerked and quivered as chills swept through his body.
Dragging the comforter up, Dean tucked it tightly around Sam's body. "Here, let's get you warm."
Dean's hand started to reach up and smooth the tangled, wet hair out of his brother's face but he let it drop short of completing its mission. He settled for perching on to the edge of the bed so he could keep a close watch on his brother.
Sam blinked his eyes rapidly, frowning at Dean. His little brother's pupils were dilated and there was an unnatural sheen to his eyes.
"I'm sorry. Please don't leave me."
He wasn't sure but Dean thought Sam might be hallucinating, calling out to Heather.
Those thoughts were disabused when Sam arched his back in discomfort and clasped Dean's arm loosely in his hand. "I'll be good, I promise. Dean, please don't leave me."
Dean looked down at the hand touching his arm and frowned, wondering why Sam thought he'd leave him. Sam's expression went from pleading to scared and he snatched his hand back. "I won't touch, sorry."
All of his worries about his sexuality and what had happened at Heather's flew out the window as Dean was confronted with a childlike Sam.
His brother needed him and that's all there was to it.
TBC
A/N: We have three chapters left to go! Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing!