CHAPTER 11 - Hell of a First Date
Sitting in the darkness of the shack expecting Arawn to barge through the door at any second was frightening. Watching the delirious hunter going through whatever he was going through was absolutely terrifying. Dean whispered his brother's name a few times and reached for his wounded shoulder. He was breathing quick and shallow breaths and was sweating despite the coolness of the night. The fear and pain in his voice was heart-wrenching, but to Alex's relief, he was no longer screaming. She sighed and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. He was still burning up and she had used the last of the holy water hours ago. She pulled his t-shirt aside to take a look at the gashes on his shoulder, using his zippo again for a light and noting the swelling and the redness weren't getting any worse. At least that was a good sign.
"Your shoulder's looking better." She figured he probably couldn't hear her but it made her feel less alone to speak out loud. She smiled at him and reached to pat his cheek but jerked her hand back when the moonlight was reflected in lines of tears on his face. She suddenly couldn't decide which was worse, hearing him scream or seeing him cry. She doubted this guy did much of either and realized she had only ever once before felt so utterly helpless.
This must be how Josh would feel after the many times she had been hurt by Red-Eyes. She thought of the pained look he would always have on his face while he sat by her bedside as she recovered. He used to sing to her for comfort, even as she slept. She had always found it soothing, even when she was groggy with medication. Maybe it had been the familiarity of his voice, remembrance of his singing around the campfires on the beach during their younger days in California. Whatever it was, it always brought her comfort. Maybe it would work for Dean. She didn't know if he could hear her, but she was fairly confident he wouldn't remember in the morning anyway.
She took Dean's hand again in the dark and started quietly singing CCR's Proud Mary, praying Dean would pull through this and not die here in an old fishing shack in Indiana without his brother around to comfort him.
SPN-SPN-SPN
Dean screamed as the chains ripped at his flesh once again. Had his body been real, he would have died a hundred painful deaths by now, but the mere physical manifestation of his soul that existed in Hell just kept on living. It kept on feeling the agony, the burning, the stabbing pains of the chains and various other weapons the relentless demons around him were gleefully torturing him with. The smell of his burning flesh was real, there just always seemed to be more to burn.
Then there was the unrelenting taunting, the cruel goading the demons couldn't seem to help spitting out at him. About how they had heard Sam had died a slow, painful death, screaming and pleading for Dean to help him or how Lillith had sent him down here also and he was currently enjoying the same hospitality. Some would jeer that Sam was turning demon, his every thought one of hatred and vengeance for the death of his big brother. Others would laugh that Dean had traded his soul for nothing, that Sam was living it up upstairs, his brother already forgotten. Then one of them would slice his chest open, hooting with laughter as his screams tore through the stale air.
He couldn't die, he couldn't even pass out. He tried to push his mind far away but the sudden jolts of intense pain kept bringing him back to the moment, an eternity of moments to go. There was nothing to grab onto, no way to escape. But then he heard something different, something that didn't belong here in Hell. It was a voice, female, singing quietly in the distance. Singing what sounded like Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird. Strange delusion, but oddly comforting. He focused on the song, trying his best to shut out the demons and the agony they were savagely inflicting on his tired and beaten soul.
SPN-SPN-SPN
A quick search of the barn turned up nothing, as did that of the librarian's house. Sam and Josh moved on to the main house on the McCulloch property that belonging to the current Sheriff. They pulled off the road into the trees a hundred feet from the driveway. Sam stuffed his fully loaded Glock 9mm in the back of his pants and Josh did the same with his Desert Eagle. They crept up the long driveway, staying hidden in the trees. There was only one car in the driveway, a silver Volkswagen Jetta. Josh snorted quietly.
"Figures, foreign piece of crap," he joked, surmising from Sam's blank look that the 'buying American' topic was completely lost on him, at least as it pertained to cars. He shook his head in amusement at how different the Winchester brothers were from one another and kept moving up the driveway. A couple of lights were on in the house despite the late hour, indicating that perhaps someone was home.
They decided on a side door where there were no lights and Sam made quick work of picking the lock, getting an impressed eyebrow raise from Josh for his efforts. Once inside, they split up, Sam taking the main level while Josh went upstairs, keeping close to the wall to lessen the chance of the old timber treads squeaking.
The house was large and the search took some time. Both men explored their entire floor but found nothing. There didn't appear to be anybody home. Josh came back down to join Sam as the youngest Winchester tried the door handle on one last door off the kitchen. The door opened with a small squeak escaping from its hinges. Both men winced and froze for a second, straining to hear if the noise had alerted anybody to their presence. Nothing. Since the room beyond was in total darkness, Sam aimed his flashlight through the doorway to find stone stairs leading downwards.
The basement. Perfect, he thought, feeling optimistic. Had Dean been here, the older brother would have certainly quipped that illegal or evil activity always took place in the basement.
The basement was unfinished with a stone floor and dusty old furniture piled around the edges of the big room. They saw nothing of interest but Sam stopped short at a shelf unit on the far wall, raising his hand sharply towards Josh to indicate he may have found something. Josh came over, being careful not to make any noise as Sam had put his finger to his lips and was pressing his ear up to the back of the shelves. Josh flicked off his flashlight and Sam followed suit. A tiny ray of light was appearing from under the unit, and they both heard a distinct rustling noise from behind it. Upon further inspection, they found hinges on the back right hand edge of the wooden unit.
Josh pressed his back to the wall on the left side of the unit, holding his gun in two hands up in front of his face and nodding to Sam. Understanding the silent instructions from years of working with Dean, Sam quickly followed suit right behind Josh. Josh silently nodded his count and on three, yanked sharply at the bookcase. As expected, it swung open with a loud bang and the two hunters jumped through the opening, guns pointing forward, ready to shoot. Sam couldn't help but think for a moment how much Dean enjoyed these adrenaline rush moments and chuckled at how much Josh looked like one of those FBI agents on the procedural cop shows Dean pretended to hate so much.
The room was dimly lit with a lantern sitting on a table near the center. There was a startled scream as they entered and the librarian jumped to her feet from where she had been sitting at the table, spinning around at the noise behind her. She froze when she saw two guns pointed at her. There was nobody else in the room, just a couple of shelves holding books and various odd boxes, with a large woven map of Old Scotland on the far wall.
Her eyes narrowed with recognition within a few seconds as she got a look at Sam's face. "You!" she spat.
"Yeah, me," Sam barked back, remembering with a shudder that he had almost become this old bitch's husband.
"I figured you would have left town," she hissed. "You know the Sheriff is after you. What with your record and all, Sam Winchester. You look surprisingly healthy for someone who was supposed to have died over six months ago."
She made a point of saying his real name. Obviously his fingerprints had given him away.
"I doubt the Sheriff wants to bring him in," Josh spoke up. "All that publicity. Seems you and your father have a few secrets of your own, Mary."
She turned her attention to the blond man, a look of surprise at how much these two hunters had figured out peering through the obvious fear. She smiled, amusement spreading across her face. "Well, you must be Joshua Driscoll," she goaded. "We may still have use for you and your lovely sister, though unfortunately you'll have to give what you've got to Uncle Dougie, since I hardly think it would be appropriate for Hamish to get you if I'm going to be getting Alexis," she laughed.
Josh curled his lip in disgust. "Lady, you're one sick bitch."
"Nobody is going to give up anything for you and your family anymore," Sam told her sternly. "You're all going to Hell, where you should have been two hundred years ago. Where are Dean and Alex?"
Sam noticed the flicker of confusion that crossed the librarian's face at the mention of Dean and Alex and realized instantly she didn't know where they were. She clearly had no intention of admitting that, however, for she quickly covered and decided to seize the opportunity to play hardball instead. "They're dead," she smiled viciously.
Sam wasn't falling for it. "Where's Darius?"
The librarian's confidence wavered as she took in Sam's sharp tone. "He's rounding up some new hosts, since you turned out to be unusable and that degenerate criminal brother of yours killed Dougie as well," she growled, obviously having misread the scene in the barn and having assumed Dean had shot her uncle. "He'll be back any second now," she warned, stepping behind the table towards the back of the room, away from the two guns still pointing at her. "And you'll never stop him," she goaded. "My da will wipe the floor with you two louts."
Sam almost shot her then and there to shut her up. They would have to kill her anyway; it might as well be now. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not without a more immediate danger as an excuse... not with Josh there, watching. He remembered the comments made by the less hardened hunter over lunch and was wary about how the Winchesters would be perceived. He liked these two, Josh and Alex, and for some reason, needed them to think he was a good person, not a ruthless killer like Gordon. He silently wished she would lunge at him and give him the excuse he needed or that Josh would just freaking shoot her and solve the dilemma. Sam felt fully justified in killing both the librarian and the Sheriff, human or not. Of that he had no doubts. It was just, for some reason, a part of him felt like he should have doubts. Like the doubts he would have had if this had happened three years ago.
The librarian suddenly flipped the far edge of the table up, sending the table into the air a few feet and towards Sam and Josh. Both hunters stepped back to avoid it and by the time their guns were up again, she had disappeared out of an opening on the far wall that hadn't been there seconds before.
"Damnit!" Sam had forgotten how strong these bastards were. The woven map swung back down in place, covering the opening as Sam and Josh raced towards it after her. Behind it there was another set of stairs and another bookcase slammed shut at the top. She must have locked it somehow because it wouldn't open, no matter how hard Sam shouldered it. He heard the car start up in front of the house and gave up. He came back down the stairs into the room, where Josh was already sifting through the books and boxes on the shelves.
"We'd better leave soon," Sam warned. "Darius could be here anytime, she's no doubt warning him right now."
"Yeah," Josh agreed distractedly, flipping through the pages of the book she had been reading on the table. "Hey kid," his brows furrowed. "Check this out." He turned the book around and pushed it across the table to where Sam stood. The book appeared to be extremely old, its thick, yellow pages worn and faded. The pages were handwritten in black ink with what appeared to be Gaelic text. "The pictures," Josh gestured.
Sam let out a low whistle as he glanced at the picture on the following page, understanding what Josh was suggesting. It was a drawing of five stones set in a circle in the woods with a figure that looked very much like Arawn standing in the center. He held out a severed head in each clawed hand, heads surrounded by a light, their faces stricken with fear. Sam thought these must be souls about to be dragged to Hell by the god. He recognized a few words from the text on the adjacent page.
"Dia," he read out loud. "I think that's the Gaelic word for God." He scanned the rest of the page. "I don't know much Gaelic," he admitted, "but carragh means rock or pillar, cearcall is circle, aicheamhail means revenge, and I think this word, anam, has something to do with a soul or spirit." He continued flipping through the pages and looked up at Josh. "I think this is the book of spells, probably the ones that lock and unlock the portal!" he cried excitedly, barely believing their luck.
Josh was already flipping through the rest of the items on the shelves. He had grabbed another book and held it tucked under his arm when he turned back to Sam. "Still doesn't mean a thing if we don't find Lexie," he pointed out solenly. "And Dean."
Sam nodded in agreement and helped check the rest of the room for interesting or useful items but with no luck. The remaining books seemed to be the business affairs of the family over the years through the numerous identities and the rest appeared to be family trinkets; an old doll, a few old carvings. They decided to leave while the coast was still clear, taking the two books of interest with them.
As they headed back down the driveway, Josh gave Sam an encouraging pat on the back. "So your criminal record's come in handy, bro. Guess you're off the old chopping block."
Sam huffed, a small laugh escaping. "They still want me dead," he reminded him.
"Yeah, well, dead has got to be better than the alternative," Josh offered. "Can you imagine roasting in Hell?" he shuddered. "Sounds nasty. No way is that happening to anyone on my watch."
A stab of guilt shot through Sam upon hearing Josh's well-intended words. Dean went to Hell on Sam's watch.
Josh continued, oblivious. "If the Sheriff brings back three people from God knows where, we're going to have to keep a lookout, make sure we get them out of there before that horned psycho drags them through the portal."
Sam quietly nodded his agreement, a now familiar knot of guilt worry in the pit of his stomach.
SPN-SPN-SPN
It would be dawn soon. At least, that was her guess as neither phone nor Dean's watch was working. Dean had been fairly quiet the last half hour, his breathing having evened out to a slower, steadier rhythm. She was still singing quietly, as much for her own comfort at this point as his. She hated being alone at night, especially in the dark. That particular fear had stemmed from her childhood, when she used to dread the moment the family would all go to bed, leaving her alone praying that her very real nightmare wouldn't show up that night. In junior high she had taken to sneaking into Josh's room after everyone had gone to bed and curling up under a blanket on his rug. He had never embarrassed or teased her about it and had never complained or even questioned the odd ritual. Seldom alone, Red-Eyes had not bothered her much for a couple of years and they were among the happiest of her life. Josh let her go pretty much everywhere he went and she spent most of her free time hanging out at the beach with him, Tag, and Beacon, his two best friends from high school.
Then Josh and Tag had gone off to Stanford and time alone couldn't be avoided, especially at night, and her nightmare had returned with a vengeance. Though it had lessened during the past few years on the run with her brother, being alone still terrified her. Singing and speaking quietly to Dean between songs made her feel less alone in the nighttime quiet of the remote fishing shack.
"Dean, you'd better wake up soon because I'm running out of songs I know the words to," she told him, still holding his hand. She was sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the bunk in which he lay sleeping and she twisted around to take a quick look at his face while she spoke to him. He was still and looked relaxed, his good-looking features visible even in the dim light.
"I've got a couple more classic rock songs and then I'm gonna have to move on to U2 or Coldplay. Judging from your tape collection, I doubt you'll be able to appreciate them."
With the expectation of sunrise and Dean's current peaceful expression, she began to feel a little more optimistic and started singing Nazareth's This Flight Tonight.
SPN-SPN-SPN
Dean awoke without moving, his mind drifting gently from the nothingness of a brief and welcomed dreamless sleep to increasing awareness. He could hear quiet, peaceful singing and remembered the small comfort the same voice had brought him not long before in the depths of Hell. He remembered his wounds from Arawn and realized the more recent visit to the pit must have just been a dream brought on by the delirium. Good, that meant the other things had been delusions also.
He opened his eyes and let them adjust, slowly taking in his surroundings. He was in the fishing shack, the first hint of dawn's light peeping in the small window. He turned his head to see the back of Alex's hair and became aware she was holding his hand over her shoulder and quietly singing Sunshine by Nazareth.
"Are you singing me love songs?" he croaked. She jumped with a startled gasp, jerking her hand out of his and turning to face him. A cocky grin spread across his face when he realized she was beginning to blush.
"You're awake!" She looked hugely relieved, even if a tiny bit flustered. "And in that song they're singing about drugs," she added defensively.
He managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, yeah. That's what all the hardcore bands say so their fans don't think they're selling out by writing a ballad just to get radio play." He sat up, head still dizzy. "That is definitely a love song."
She flushed, her cheeks turning a pinkish hue. Why couldn't he have woken up ten minutes earlier during Nirvana? "Are you okay?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
"Don't worry, Sunshine," he winked, enjoying her continued embarrassment. "I'm fine."
"That's what you said right before you collapsed yesterday," she accused, reaching out to put a hand on his forehead.
"Care to fill me in?" Dean asked with a grimace, his memory of the last twelve hours sketchy at best. He let her feel his face with the back of her hand, assuring herself he was okay by confirming his fever was gone.
"We ran from Arawn and jumped in the river to get away and made it to this shack and spent the night here," she summarized, a bit too concisely.
"We jumped?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her, vaguely remembering things going down a little differently.
She grinned sheepishly. "Well, you might have needed some nudging," she admitted.
"You look tired," he said, searching her face for a reaction to his next question. "Did I keep you up?" He remembered bits of the nightmares, but wasn't sure if he had done what his dad had done all those years ago, screaming and crying out loud. He cringed inwardly at the memory. God, he hoped not.
She decided to give him a free pass. "Nah," she lied, looking away as she got up to loosen up her stiff joints. "You slept like a log the whole night. That left me to guard the door in case our friendly neighborhood Celtic God decided to drop by."
"Sorry," he apologized, guessing she wasn't quite telling the truth but deciding to go with it anyway. He tried to stand but found his legs still shaky. She moved next to him and took his arm as he hobbled over to the window, leaning his weight on the sill and taking a long look outside.
"It's dawn" he announced. "We should get moving." He turned towards her to see her putting her jacket back on. She had placed it under his head for a pillow. Shit, she must have been cold all night with no jacket, he thought guiltily. "You doin' okay?" he asked sincerely.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she smiled back. "At least, I am now. Crappy night though, huh?"
"What do you mean?" Dean quipped. "I give you jewelry," he pointed to the bracelet from the fair on her wrist, "and take you to a cozy, romantic cabin in the woods. Hell of a first date. I'm not surprised you were singing me love songs."
She laughed, handing him his gun, his knife, and his Zippo. "You're a jerk, you know that? FYI, most guys usually just spring for dinner."
"Tell you what," Dean rubbed his stomach. "I'll spring for breakfast as soon as we get back to civilization. I'm starving." He stashed his weapons and felt his pocket looking for his phone.
"Shit!" he cursed, remembering the phones getting wet. "Did you ever get a hold of Sammy?"
She shook her head and grabbed the two cells from where she had them spread out to dry. She handed Dean his and started putting hers back together to try it out. "They still weren't working a half hour ago."
Dean tried his also but still no luck with either. "We need to get back to the car," he said urgently. "Sam will be going ape-shit with worry." He looked up at her as he turned towards the door, swaying a bit unsteadily where he stood. "Your brother's gonna have my ass."
She moved to get the door for him, holding her arm out to steady him as they moved. "Don't worry, he won't blame you," she assured him. "I seem to manage to find trouble wherever I go, trust me. I probably shouldn't have come with you."
"Arawn still would have been there," Dean assured her sternly, surprised she could possibly feel any blame for their current situation. "In fact, if you hadn't stabbed and shot him, he might have killed me back at the stones. This is not your fault."
Blaming herself, that was something Sam would have done had he been here. The kid was always shouldering too much responsibility when things went wrong these days, especially if they were unsuccessful in saving somebody. Of course, that naïve notion that they could save everybody was one of the reasons Dean loved him so much.
Alex shrugged but didn't answer him and they left the shack behind, following the river down the hill towards the hunter's car. Dean was still unsteady on his feet and walked with his arm over Alex's shoulder but was able to take most of his weight himself this time. The occasional dizzy spell found him leaning more heavily on her until it passed but as they walked, the spells became fewer and farther between.
"Well," Alex teased about half way down, "you're definitely in no condition to drive. Looks like I'm gonna get behind the wheel of your Impala after all."
Dean snorted. "Oh, I think I'll manage. I've driven her in a lot worse condition than this." Nobody drove his baby but him, Sam, and occasionally Bobby. Family only.
The walk down took almost three hours. As they neared the road and where they had left the car, Dean's phone finally turned on and he cried triumphantly as he heard Sam's phone ringing on the other end.
SPN-SPN-SPN
Josh and Sam leaned against the hood of the Bronco at the side of the country road, trying to think of what to do and where to look next. As worried as Sam was, he felt badly for Josh, who seemed to be on the verge of losing it with fear.
"We've looked everywhere!" Josh cried in frustration. "Twice!"
"They've gotta be hiding in the woods somewhere," Sam repeated his theory, unwilling to accept any other option.
"Damnit!" Josh threw a rock across the street in frustration. "How do we search the entire woods?" His eyes brightened suddenly and he spun towards Sam. "Search and Rescue!" he exclaimed. "They've got planes!"
Sam frowned. "They also report to the Sheriff. But I think you're onto something, Josh." He hopped off the hood and dashed towards the passenger door. "A plane. Who do we know that can get us up in a plane?"
Josh grinned, seeing where Sam was going. "Jonas!" He bolted towards the driver's door, hopping in and starting up the engine. "It's early, but I'll bet Brody's at the motel. Call and find out where Jonas lives. He'll take us up in his plane if I have to threaten to shoot him."
Brody was indeed at the front desk, though he sounded half asleep when he answered. He was hesitant at first to give out his uncle's address, but Sam explained that it was a surprise for Alex, since it was her birthday tomorrow. Brody quickly obliged, more excited to find out his crush's birthday than interested in protecting his uncle.
Sam hung up and was about to relay the address to Josh when his phone rang, Dean's name coming up on the screen display.
"Dean!" Sam answered with relief. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
"Sammy!" came the hoarse voice on the other end.
"Is Lex okay?" Josh demanded, not waiting for Sam to pose the question.
Dean obviously heard him. "She's fine, we're both fine. We're almost back to the Impala now," he replied.
"She's fine, they're both fine," Sam relayed to the anxious Josh before turning his attention back to the phone. "What happened? Where have you been all night?" he asked.
"I'll fill you in later, little brother. You two okay?"
"Yeah, we are now. Look, we'll meet you at the Impala; we're on our way." Sam waved his hand in a circle in the air, indicating to Josh to turn the Bronco around.
"Okay, see you there," Dean agreed, hanging up.
Sam clicked his phone off and grabbed the overhead handle to steady himself as Josh pulled the SUV into a tight U-turn on the highway, complete with tires screeching, to head back towards the Impala.
SPN-SPN-SPN
Alex and Dean's spirits were lifted by the phone call, both having been privately worrying about what reckless acts their brothers might have justified committing when they hadn't shown up last night. Dean felt the girl's shoulders relax under his arm and grinned down at her.
"Your big brother's pretty protective, huh?"
She snorted. "You have no idea" she smiled. "Well, actually, you probably do," she added, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, it kind of comes with the territory," Dean admitted, not embarrassed. He had always taken his duty of looking out for Sam seriously.
"So what's with that anyway, some kind of big brother code?" she asked, only half in jest. "Give up everything – sell your freaking soul if you have to - for your little sibling."
Dean's eyes widened for a second, wondering how much Sam had told her yesterday. Then he realized she was being metaphoric and referring to Josh, not Dean and Sam, and a wave of relief swept over him. He would really rather the Winchester problems and cycle of martyrdom remained between the Winchesters and Bobby.
"What, the big FBI career?" he sneered. "Trust me, I barely know the guy, but I can tell you for a fact Josh doesn't regret giving that up to keep you safe."
"FBI career? Is that what he told you he gave up?" she scoffed. "Typical Josh. He gave up a Hell of a lot more than that." She spoke more softly. "He gave up everything. I literally cost him everything."
"See," Dean answered lightheartedly, "that must be some kind of little sibling code. Always gotta be so melodramatic. Did it ever occur to you that you are everything? Everything that matters to Josh anyway." Sam was everything to Dean - it was quite simple to the elder Winchester.
"Okay, Oprah," she laughed then remained silent for a minute before continuing. "I admit, everything he gave up he did willingly and would do it again but that doesn't make me feel any less guilty about it."
Dean nodded. "Point taken." He couldn't argue with that. He had lived with the guilt over what his father had given up for him so he couldn't expect Sam to be guilt-free about what Dean had gone through to save his life. But guilt-ridden or not, Sam was alive. That had been all that had mattered. That was still all that mattered.
"Josh wants normal," Alex continued in an uncharacteristic moment of sharing. "He wants a nine-to-five, he wants to spend the weekends on the beach with his board, he wants a house, a wife, two point five kids, a dog. Did you know he gets some crappy job in every city we move to? I mean... what for, right?"
She had intended the question to be rhetorical, but Dean raised his eyebrows at her. "You're criticizing him for trying to bring in an honest living?"
"Of course not," she explained. "I'm just saying that he doesn't need to work. We came into a pretty big chunk of change a few years back and our friend Tag invested it really well for us. Honestly, we don't need the money. Josh doesn't work to bring in money; he works because it makes him feel normal. He hates the constant moving around, though he'd never admit it. A few years back, we lived in Tennessee. One of our longer stints, almost six months this time. He met this awesome chick, Teri. He was crazy about her. I mean crazy. He would have married her in a heartbeat but... but my problems not caught up with us. Red-Eyes showed up and when Josh came home and saw my bust-up arm, know what he did?"
Recognizing this one as rhetorical, Dean waited for her answer this time.
"He split. We hopped in the car and just drove away. The usual deal as if nothing was different. We ditched the phones, called Beacon from a payphone for more ID's, and kept driving 'til we reached Tampa Bay. He never called her, never said goodbye, never explained anything to her. He just vanished out of her life." Her expression was sad. "Poor girl, she was so sweet," she said with a sigh. "They were really good together. He's never dated seriously since then, and now..." She snorted. "Now he's frigging Deuce Bigalow."
Alex wasn't sure why she was spilling the family history quite so readily but decided to blame it on how exhausted she felt. As the realization of her overdose of information sharing hit her, she resorted to humour to put a quick end to it. She grinned up at Dean, "So what's your excuse?"
He laughed. "Hey, I'm still a virgin."
They were still laughing as they came out of the trees just in time to see the Bronco pull up. It had barely made a complete stop before Josh was out of the driver's door and running towards them. He practically barreled into Alex, wrapping her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head.
"Oh my God, Sis! You had me so worried. Are you sure you're okay? I love you more than anything, you know that right?"
"Yeah, I know. I love you too. I'm fine, I swear," she replied, her voice slightly muffled by his bear hug.
Sam strode quickly over to his brother, who looked pale. He noticed Dean had been leaning on Alex when they had come out of the trees and was worried. He clasped his hand on Dean's shoulder, a Winchester-style expression of deep affection.
"Dean, man, you alright?" he asked, a bit awkwardly. He really wanted to hug his brother and tell him how scared he had been with worry, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The John Winchester School of Repressed Emotions still had its influence.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little lightheaded. I'll need you to drive my car."
Dean squeezed Sam's wrist as a return indication that he was happy to see his brother also. He glanced over at the Brentons and a stab of jealousy shot through him. Josh was still hugging Alex, telling her exactly how much he loved her and how worried he was and exactly how he'd feel if he ever lost her. Dean even thought he saw a glint of tears in the blond man's eyes. It was nice to see the pair express their feelings so openly. Well, Josh was doing most of the expressing, but it was still sweet. Why couldn't he and Sam have that? Not to that extent, of course - he would feel insanely uncomfortable the whole hug, kissing-of-the-head part, but why were Winchesters so awkward when it came to letting each other know how much they cared for one another? Dean remembered a time when he could tousle Sam's hair and give him hugs and tell him he loved him. That was all before Sam turned ten, of course, but Dean remembered it like it was yesterday. Now Dean would sell his soul for his brother but couldn't bring himself to say 'I love you.' Not even 'Love ya dude'.
Dean cleared his throat loudly in his usual tactless manner. "What do you say we hit the diner for breakfast? I'm starving."
Alex grinned over at him. "That's right, you owe me a breakfast."
SPN-SPN-SPN