Dean was in the throes of a nightmare when Sam and Emily returned to the motel. Unlike them, he did not thrash about in his distress, but he was unusually twitchy. Still, they didn't think much of the spasms, putting them down to fatigued muscles, and they wouldn't have realised he was having a nightmare if he'd not spoken out loud. "Please … I'll do anything! Don't hurt them! Please, I beg you, please, take me instead!" Then after a quiet pause he added, "Then take me too!"
Sam and Emily paused in their respective tasks and turned to look at the bed where their brother, who usually slept spread out like starfish, was curled into a tight ball. Emily dropped the sandwich she was making, Sam abandoned the inventory of the first aid box and both silently went over to their brother's side. They watched in distress as he clutched and released the bed linens and a tear rolled across the bridge of his nose and disappeared into the pillow. Unconsciously, both Sam and Emily reached out at the same time and their hands collided and increased in momentum, so instead of the intended light brushes, they accidentally jolted Dean awake.
He blinked a few times, before staring blearily at them. Then he uncurled himself and turned onto his back.
"How long have you guys been back?" he asked, not caring that he had woken up to find both of them standing by the side of his bed when it took only one of them or a tossed pillow to wake him up.
"We just got back." Sam answered.
"How did it go?"
"Not too bad, I guess." Emily didn't know whether he was asking about the occult shop research or the hospital haul.
"We got Percocet. It's this combination of Oxycodone and Tylenol." Sam explained. The shop hadn't yielded results yet, so he figured he could leave that out.
"Awesome!" Dean said with exaggerated joy, then continued in a normal voice, "Can I have the plain Tylenol?"
"Come on Dean, you promised!" Sam growled. Emily looked amazed. She hadn't known about the promise; it must have happened when she was in the car waiting for Sam.
"I know I did." Dean would have snapped if he had the strength, he didn't. "I'm not going back on my word. But can we hold off until morning?"
"Okay." Emily said quickly before Sam objected. With Dean, it was good to take the victories as they came. Sam sighed rather dramatically and shook out the plain Tylenol.
Then he and Emily returned to their earlier tasks. Dean propped himself up and accepted the sandwich even though it was evident he didn't really want it. Sam decided to have a quick shower before eating his. When he got out, he found Emily seated next to Dean, watching Kill Bill Volume 1. He joined them. As usual it was a tight fit, but that suited them just fine, especially Emily who was squashed in the middle.
"God, that part always gets me!" Dean sniggered. "Kaboom! cereal … breakfast with a bang! Complete with a gun!" he spoke in a mock ad voice.
"Where can we get it? Ours only comes with cheesy toys!" Emily quipped.
"We'd never buy it. Sam has an aversion to clowns. He'd probably cry if he saw the box!" Dean snorted.
Sam glared at him threateningly.
"I don't like clowns either!" Emily confessed.
"See?" Sam said to Dean.
"I don't fear them though!" she amended. "I just don't see how they're funny!"
"You two need help!" Dean shook his head.
They went back to watching the movie.
By the time it ended, Dean had fallen asleep. Sam and Emily clambered off his bed, gathered their volumes of books, and their laptops and relocated to Sam's bed.
"If you were that kid, Nikki, would you seek revenge?" Sam asked before they hunkered down to desperate research. He was referencing the movie.
Emily thought about it for a moment before speaking. "I guess it would depend on how much of the backstory I know. I mean if I knew everything, you know what she'd done to the bride and all that, I wouldn't bother. If I didn't, I probably would seek retribution. But Nikki was still pretty young, so I don't know! Would you?"
"I doubt it, but you can never really know what you'd do until you do!"
"What are you, Yoda?" Emily smiled.
"With better grammar!"
They each grabbed a book, and soon Dean's breathing, the music playing faintly off Emily's computer, and the occasionally turning pages were the only sounds breaking the silence. Two hours later, they had a mutual coffee break.
"I love coffee, but this smells like old shoes!" Sam complained.
"And tastes ten times worse!" Emily agreed with a yawn. However, it was the only way they could stay awake.
They stretched with audible creaks and pops, rubbed their gritty eyes and went back to reading. Another couple of hours passed unnoticed.
Dean came awake slowly and watched his siblings quietly for a few minutes. Emily was sitting cross legged in the middle of Sam's bed while Sam sat at the head of the bed, his long legs stretched out, his back against the headboard. The two laptops and a sea of books filled the bed between them. Both were engrossed in the books they were reading. Sam was worrying at his lower lip in concentration, while Emily was twirling a lock of hair that had broken free from the braid. He smiled fondly, then his face fell when he thought about what he had to say to them. They were reading fast, and obviously not for pleasure. He knew they were doing this for him. He was proud of their determination, and humbled by their devotion. He was also scared for them. He knew that they'd not even considered the possibility that he was going to die. He was worried about them, about how they would handle his death.
He knew they were both strong. Emily had survived the tragic deaths of her parents, whom she was very attached to, without any siblings to share the grief with. Dean shuddered at the thought of going it all alone, without the love and support of a brother. Emily had to have some kind of strength to still be here today. His death would be hard on her, but this time she would have Sam, though Dean admitted she might have to be the one to carry Sam through the pain, and not the other way round.
Sam was undeniably strong too; he had taken Jessica's death hard, but he'd not fallen apart. He'd channeled his grief into purpose, only weakening in his dreams. However, Dean doubted Sam would be able to hold it together this time. The bond between the two of them was so strong and unusual; they were more than brothers, they were each others' pillars, each other's anchors. Sam would definitely take Dean's death worse than Emily. Dean was justifiably worried about Sam self-destructing in his grief. Hopefully, having a sister to depend on, and who depended on him, would be enough to keep Sam from losing it, maybe Emily would give him a purpose.
Yes, his siblings were both going to need each other more than ever.
Dean took a deep breath to bolster himself. "Hey dorks!" he greeted.
Sam and Emily turned to look at him, smiling automatically at his voice and words. The smiles quickly slipped off their faces, because despite the teasing words, Dean had such a serious and sad expression on his face that they both almost recoiled. It took all their willpower not to. Dean never looked like this. Dean was never this serious, never this sad. He always had a wisecrack playing on his lips, a silly joke, a witty remark, and his eyes were either twinkling with mischief or smoldering with anger. This was new. This was scary. The foundations of Sam and Emily's world shook even before Dean spoke.
"I'm going to die!" he said matter-of-factly.
Those words, that tone, that casual acceptance felt like a physical blow to their stomachs and they both had to struggle not to be sick.
"Don't say that! Don't you dare!" Sam began with fire in his words, but they ended on a crack and a swallowed sob.
"Look, I'm not just saying it to upset you guys. But I can feel my life slipping away. I can feel pieces of myself breaking away and disappearing. The pain is eating at me. In the morning, we're going to try the perco-whatever and I don't know how it's going to affect me, so please, let me say this now, while I still can, okay?"
With tears shining in their eyes, but bravely held at bay, both Sam and Emily nodded.
"Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not giving up, okay? I'm fighting! I'll try as hard as I possibly can to hold on, to live and stay with you dorks, after all, who else will teach you to be cool? But if ... if I don't, if I don't make it, I want... I want you two to keep on living. For me, and for yourselves. No going off on hunts half cocked, no drugs, or alcohol, or street racing, or any of that nonsense. I don't want either of you courting danger or seducing death! I want you both to go back to school and get your degrees and..."
"Dean..." Emily began.
"Ssh. Listen to me. I want you to make great lives for yourselves. Mimi, start a band or play solo, but whatever you decide, make music. And Sammy, be the most kick ass lawyer you can ever be. Lock away the bad guys. Don't become a sellout, okay? Both of you will be making the world a better place, without having to hunt. Let dad hunt. It's the only thing he knows how to do now. Heck, it's the only thing I know. But you two, you've got so much more to offer the world than killing monsters." He paused and swallowed before continuing, "Most importantly, I want you two to remain close. I don't want you to lose this relationship. Look out for each other … always. If I die, I want to go knowing that you're both going to be alright. I want to die in peace knowing that you'll go on and do all the things you want. I don't want to feel guilty for ruining your lives."
"You didn't ruin our lives!" Emily whispered.
"You make this hunters' life bearable; a life that by all accounts should be awful. You make it worth living. How are we supposed to go on without you in it?" Sam croaked.
"That's why I want you to leave it. When I'm gone, I want you to go have normal apple pie lives."
"This life will never let us go, you know that Dean. I tried it. It didn't work. And what about Rae? How can she go make music with demons after her?"
"That's what dad is for. Revenge for mum is his fight, saving Rae is his obligation."
"Revenge for mom is my fight too! And saving Rae is my obligation!" Sam said heatedly. Did Dean seriously think only he and dad were honour bound to family?
"Hey, saving myself is my fight, and revenge for my parents is mine alone, so I'm not walking away!" Emily said just as passionately.
"Guys …"
"No Dean! Besides, it doesn't matter what we're doing or how we're living, we'd still need you!" Emily pleaded. She couldn't imagine a life without both her brothers. Not a hunter's life and not an apple pie life.
"You'll still have each other."
"We're not giving up on you!" Sam declared. "And that is that!" His voice was hard and brooked no argument. His breathing was erratic, like he was either trying to reign in his temper or trying to keep himself from hyperventilating.
Emily was relearning how to breathe. The physical ache in her chest was making it a skill in concentration and timing.
"Sammy, I'm trying, but this thing is kicking my ass!"
"Then kick back, Dean! You're the stubbornest most pigheaded person I know!" Emily declared with heartfelt heat.
"I think you're confusing me with yourself and Sammy!" Dean barked a short laugh. He felt Sammy was more stubborn than him, but for some reason, Emily thought otherwise. And she should know stubborn, she was the third stubbornest person he knew, after their dad and Sam!
Sam smiled grimly before speaking. "Well, you better fight this or I swear to God I'll kill you myself!"
Dean closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the green orbs, were blank and dull. He'd cleared all emotion from them. Both Sam and Emily's hearts thudded in their chests. Whatever this was, they were going to like it even less than the previous topic. This day or was it night, was officially up there on their individual lists of worst days.
"I want you guys to promise me something else," Dean whispered hoarsely.
"What?" Sam asked suspiciously. Emily shook her head, she didn't want to hear this.
"That until this is over, one way or the other, you won't call dad!"
"What?" this time Sam's question was an explosion of disbelief. Emily held her hands to her head. She was sure she was hearing things upside down or maybe Dean's words were getting lost in translation somehow.
"And Bobby!" Dean continued.
"But they can help!" Emily still couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why were her brothers so averse to accepting help?
"Dean …" Sam began.
"Just promise."
"How? How can you ask that of us?" Emily whispered.
"Please! Promise me, Sammy … Mimi! Promise, you won't call them!" he was pleading now.
For some reason, this really meant a lot to him. But how could they make that promise? What if they failed to save him on their own? How would they live with that? How would they face John?
Emily looked to Sam, tears swimming in her eyes. She'd follow his lead. He knew Dean best. He knew what to do.
Sam, his own eyes glassy with unshed tears, ducked his head. He couldn't bear to see the puzzled torment and the unquestioning trust in Emily's eyes, not when he was feeling so raw himself, so unsure. He gulped a huge breath, then after a tense moment, he raised his head back up. He looked at her, gritted his teeth, then turned to look at Dean.
Oh God, no! "I promise!" his voice did not betray his distress.
Emily gasped and the tears finally broke free. Sam felt like he'd broken her heart.
"Mimi?" Dean whispered. He hated asking this of her, of them.
No, no, no! "I … I promise!" she sobbed.
"I'm sorry, guys!" Dean sighed torn between relief and sorrow. He closed his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn't close his ears and Emily's quiet sobs tore at his heart. He couldn't explain to them why he didn't want John and Bobby to know. Couldn't explain that he felt like a failure for letting this happen to him, and he didn't want anyone else to know, at least not yet. It would be okay if they learnt about it after his demise. No one spoke ill of the dead after all. John wouldn't be able to blame him for messing up. Dean didn't want to spend what might be his last days, fighting the insecurities that his father always managed to highlight. The most important reason however was that if he was going to die, the only people he wanted with him, were already here. He felt terrible about the burden he was leaving them with. But they'd be okay. They had each other. They'd carry each other through it. Dammit, he wasn't going to cry.
He gingerly sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Sam had scooted next to Emily and was holding her as tightly as she was clinging to him. Her face was hidden in his chest and his face was buried in her hair. Neither noticed Dean until he threw his arms round both of them. His unprecedented gesture made Emily sob even more and Sam lifted his face momentarily to look up at Dean, silent tears rolling down his face. Dean hadn't realised his brother was crying. His heart clenched.
"I'm so sorry guys!" he spoke with a clogged voice, placing his chin on Sam's now bowed head. Hunching over was at the best of times awkward and uncomfortable, but this time, it was excruciating, but he would ignore the pain in his body, for as long as his siblings needed him to hold them.
Sam had vowed to be stoic, and when this was over, he'd hand the reins back to Dean. But Dean's words, his goodbye really, and that promise he'd held them to, coupled with Emily's sobs had undone his will. So he released his pain and fear as he simultaneously tried to comfort his sister who was probably as terrified and as hurt and as confused as he was.
Emily tried very hard not to cry, she hated how crying made her look and feel, hated how helpless it always made her. Besides, her brother needed her now, so she had to be strong. But she was tired, overwhelmed, scared, angry, confused, and wired from too much bad coffee, too much irrelevant information and no sleep, and she failed to keep the tears away. So instead she focused on trying to stop crying, and she might have been successful if Dean hadn't held her and Sam. Even now, even in his pain, he was trying to ease theirs. God, she loved him so much, she didn't want to lose him! And now she couldn't stop crying. She couldn't stop the sobs that hurt her chest and heart and boiled up her throat, and shook her shoulders. She knew Sam was crying as well, she could feel his tears soaking through her hair.
They slowly pulled themselves together. Emily's sobs became sniffs and died away and Sam's tears stopped falling. Dean stepped back to give them space when he felt both stiffen awkwardly. He sat back on his bed when Sam let Emily go. She wiped away the telltale wetness from her cheeks, then raised her head to look Sam searchingly in the eye. He smiled a thin grim smile, which she mirrored after a moment, then she got off the bed, looked for her pajamas and went to the bathroom. Dean wondered what that had been about, but he didn't dare ask. The look on Sam's face was thunderous.
"You're such a bastard, you know that?" Sam said bitingly when the shower started.
"Sam, you've got to understand!"
"Understand what, Dean? When you won't explain anything!" Sam was collecting the books with jerky, angry moves. He dumped them on the table. Powered down the laptops and placed them more gently on the nightstands. Then he turned off the light.
"I don't know how!" Dean sighed in defeat. In the dim moonlight that breached the room, he could see his brother. He watched as Sam got into his bed. He could tell from the stiff way Sam held himself, that he was mad, and hurt. He got further proof when Sam turned his back on him and pulled up his covers. Dean sighed again, swung his feet onto his bed and got under his own covers.
Both listened as the shower turned off. Then a few minutes later, the door opened and Emily got out. Dean watched her as she stood there for a moment, silhouetted by the light of the bathroom. Then she turned, switched the light off, and padded softly to her bed. Thirty minutes later, he knew she was still awake, but he didn't think she knew he was awake too, so he was surprised when she called out his name softly.
"Yeah!" he answered.
She didn't speak immediately, and it was only after his prompting that she did. "Never mind, it's stupid!"
"The day you ever say anything stupid is the day I'll stop being cool!" he joked. He was gratified to hear her chuckle.
"Then I think I've been saying stupid things all my life!" she teased him.
"If it wasn't so late, and Sammy wasn't sleeping, I'd come over there and kick your punk ass!" Dean groused good-naturedly.
He could hear the smile in her voice when she retorted. "Only if you'd be able to catch me, Gimpy!"
"Don't dare me, Pukey!"
She laughed, then silence took over.
"So, what was that stupid thing you wanted to say?" Dean finally prompted.
"What would you say to your dad if you had the chance?" she asked quickly before she lost her resolve.
Damn it all to hell in a green wagon covered with a bullesye! Never in a million years would Dean have expected that question. His stomach dropped, his bowels liquified. Jesus, why couldn't he have been given shallow superficial siblings who didn't ask tough questions?
Emily was just about to say never mind, when Dean spoke. "I'd ask him not to blame you and Sammy. That you both did everything you could. I'd ask him not to blame himself either. For this, for mom and for everything in between." Dean went quiet and Emily thought he was done. Then out of the blue a quiet halting voice broke the silence. "I'd forgive him." Dean said surprising himself as well.
Before tonight, Dean had never admitted his father's shortcomings; he'd barely even noticed them. He'd defended and championed the man to Sam, and he'd endorsed and built him up for Emily who didn't really know him. Heck, he'd advocated John to Bobby, who was truthfully a better father to them than John would ever be. Until tonight, Dean had never realised that a small part of him resented his father. Resented him for a missed childhood, resented him for isolating them so completely, hence making Dean paranoid about forming relationships. He resented John for relationships and friendships that had never blossomed because they moved too often, resented him for talents that were never acknowledged and developed because they were not important to a hunter. John was the reason Dean had trust issues, why he was a control freak, why he was skeptical about love, why he kept his feelings bottled up. Yes, John had fucked him up pretty good.
"I'd forgive him!" Dean whispered again.
Tears silently soaked into three different pillows.
