11. Goodbyes

Dean wakes up slowly, his consciousness gradually drifting back in bits and pieces. His whole body hurts, in an allover sort of way; pain telling the familiar story of a hunt.

The room is light, sun trickling in between the curtains. He turns slowly and sees the alarm clock's bright red numbers. He has to blink and focus before he can wake up enough to make out the time; already afternoon.

He wants to stay in bed forever, never getting up again but he knows that's not an alternative. He sighs and sits up, rolling his shoulders, all the little aches and pains making themselves known. The sound of the bathroom door opening turns his head.

Sam comes out in a cloud of steam, the smell of shampoo and wet tiles following him out. He is barefoot and toweling his hair, clean jeans and shirt on. Dean is struck dumb for a second, thinking about how close it had been.

Yesterday he had almost lost his brother. Yesterday Sam had almost drowned.

He can still feel the cold grip of claws around his heart, the terror so all-consuming it should have drowned him too. He felt the weight of Sam in his arms; saw the sick tint of his skin and his closed eyes. He had stopped breathing himself, unable to cope with even the basic reflex of drawing in air.

Then Sam's entire body had convulsed, and foul water had poured out his mouth and nose. Dean had turned him sideways and held his head as Sam came back to life. Dean had felt it, life coming crashing back in, filling his brother again. He had held on long after the coughing had stopped and Sam's breathing was back to normal again. His hands unwilling to let go now that Sam has been returned to him.

He had neither prayed, thanked, nor begged. His being filled up with the simple task of holding on to Sam. He knew that someday, probably sooner than later, Sam would not come back to him. Or it would be him dead in a sewer; body limp and lifeless, eyes unseeing. He knew this like he knew his name, it was not something he contemplated or regretted. It was just the way of the world.

But that day was not today and Sam said his name.

"Dean?"

"Yes, I'm here Sammy."

"Good."

ooo

Dean shakes himself and returns to the present.

"You've showered, again?" he asks, eyebrow lifted.

Sam shakes himself, "Yeah. I don't think I will ever get the stench of sever off me," He grimaces and Dean laughs at him.

"It was there before dude," he smiles wide and puts his hands up in time to catch the shoe Sam throws at him.

Sam smiles as well and throws himself down on his bed, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. He speaks to Dean without looking at him, "Get going so we can get something to eat, I'm starving."

Dean holds on the shoe, turning it over absently in his hands while studying his brother's profile and a sense of calm fills him. Perhaps even happiness.

ooo

Dean is just about ready when there is a knock on the door; two sharp raps and Dean thinks it has to be Bill, the surety of the sound speaking of someone used to being in charge. He puts his feet down in his booths and rubs a hand over his hair, trying for at least a hint of order. He opens the door; Bill is standing with his back to the door, apparently taking in the weak morning sunshine.

The heat seems to have finally broken and the air is cool on the skin of Dean's arms. At the sound of the door opening Bill turns around. He has a clean uniform on, impeccably starched and fitted to him. Apart from a dark cast around his eyes and the gaze of someone who has seen a bit too much, he looks like the same carefree man who had greeted them to town just a few days ago.

"Morning," Dean says, one arm leaning against the door frame.

"Morning," Bill adds, waving at Sam over Dean's shoulder. Sam waves back distractedly before letting his focus be drawn back to the cartoons on the TV.

"You got a minute?" Bill adds.

"Sure," Dean steps out and gently closes the door behind him. Outside, a clear blue sky and a feeling that you can see for miles greets him. The air is refreshing and he takes a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of being alive for a moment.

"Is he ok?" Bill waves his hat in the direction of the motel.

"Yeah, he will be fine, he has lived through worse," Dean says and knows that it is true.

Bill keeps his hat in his hand and he looks at him and Dean can tell the police is not liking what he has to say next.

"I'm sorry Dean but I'm going to have to ask you and your brother to leave town," he sounds apologetic but not actually sorry.

Dean slumps his shoulders, he had hoped to be given some time to rest up before they moved on, but he understands. No one wants them around once the killing is done and over with. Having them around reminded people to much about what had just happened and how that did not fit how they saw the world. Normal people needed a world without monsters.

"I understand," he said.

"It's just," Bill hesitated, "I have to look after my town and the longer you stay here the harder it will be to pretend you are actually FBI agents."

Dean nods, "Yeah I know, give me an hour to pack up and we will be on our way.

Bill looks relieved that the situation is so easily resolved.

"I can't believe you are leaving again. At least I get to say goodbye this time," he adds grinning wide, hands on his hips, hat dangling from two fingers.

Dean allows himself a smile, smitten by Bill's contagious humor. He reaches out his hand towards Bill.

"Thank you for everything, its' been an honor," he says.

Bill looks at his hand and then quickly around the outside of the motel and says, "Like hell" He laughs and uses Dean's outstretched hand to pull him close, hugging him tight. He leans over and kisses Dean, who lets him.

Afterwards Bill pulls apart, he looks a bit flustered but happy.

"I will miss you," he says simply

Dean just smiles and shrugs as if saying -ain't that a bitch.

"Just leave before I change my mind and won't let you leave at all," Bill says. He turns around, one hand pressing his hat down on his head and the other raised in a greeting as he walks away. Dean stays to watch him leave; he is filled with a sense of nostalgia at happy memories but nothing more.

At his car Bill turns around and shouts back at him, "You take care now," and then he is driving away, out of Dean's life.