AN: This is probably the fastest I've updated ever, and I want to thank Noxbait for keeping me on my toes about wanting upcoming chapters. Not much happens in the this chapter except a lot of angst and chick-flick moments. But enjoy anyway.
Chapter 11- What Do We Do Now?
While sleep was good for Sam, it sucked for Dean. As his brother recuperated, Dean deteriorated. Sam passed out in the passenger seat only gave Dean extra time to think. They now had a diagnosis, but what good would that do them? He would never, never admit it to Sam, but through much of their adventure at the hospital, the elder Winchester had had many of the same thoughts as his brother. He drove in comfortable silence as Sam slept on, getting closer and closer to Bobby's.
Remembering the seizures at the hospital caused Dean to shiver. He'd expected Sam to have a seizure or two at the hospital, but nothing like what had happened. He'd expected a few little zone out episodes. What had the doctor called them? Absence seizures? He'd expected Sam to zone out then come right back. The doctor would see what Sam was experiencing, prescribed him some meds, and they would have been out the door. But everything had gone down the toilet so fast the older Winchester hadn't been able to keep track. He hadn't planned on seeing his little brother look like a fish out of water again. He shuddered again, remembering not only Sam's seizure, but also how the younger Winchester had been hooked up to machines: cords and wires coming out of so many places in his body, he looked like something out of science-fiction movie. A cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of Dean's stomach at the memory, and he hoped the medication would help. He couldn't bear the thought of witnessing many more of those episodes. There had to be some way to fix the wall, and hopefully, this idea would be enough of a stop gap until they could find a real solution.
Analyzing this whole situation would have to wait. Dean could feel his eyes drooping. He glanced down at the Impala's clock. They had been driving for almost six hours. It was almost dinner time, which meant time for a break. Sam wasn't the only one who had gotten next to no sleep. The older Winchester had spent the night alternately trying to keep his brother awake and being prepared to wake him up. He could probably use a nap as well. Gas and food first, then Dean would see how he felt.
Getting off on the next exit he saw that had a tiny fuel pump on the big blue sign, the older Winchester pulled into the first gas station he saw. He pulled up to an open pump nearest to the convenience store. He had a hard time tearing his gaze away from Sam sleeping in the passenger seat. Despite it having been Dean's idea, the trip to the hospital had really unnerved him. He shook himself to rid him of negative thoughts and went to fill gas. Sam was fine. He was just sleeping; nothing to be worried about.
After the gas tank clicked out, Dean glanced in the car to see Sam curled up against the passenger side window, his breath making little puffs of fog against the glass. Dean was loath to wake him. Especially since the older Winchester was pretty sure this was the longest stretch of sleep his brother had gotten in a long time. But it had been about five hours from when they'd left the hospital, and breakfast had been even longer ago.
Taking a deep breath, Dean knocked on the window.
Sam snoozed on. He must have been truly exhausted. Normally, the younger Winchester was such a light sleeper he flinched or startled awake at the slightest noise.
Dean walked around the car, seated himself in the driver's seat, and shook his brother's shoulder. "Sammy. Sam. Hey little brother, wake up for a sec. I have a question for you."
"MMMM," Sam mumbled in his sleep, pulled his shoulder out of Dean's grasp, and turned more toward the window.
"Come on, Sam. Just a few minutes, man. One question then you can go right back to sleep." The older Winchester was now using one hand to shake Sam's shoulder and the other to play with his brother's hair. Playing with Sam's hair also allowed Dean to secretly be able to check his brother over without being too obvious. "Sam we don't have all day. Get up." The older Winchester was beginning to lose patience.
"Come on, Dean. 'M tired. Just leave me alone," Sam grumbled.
"No, you come on Sam. You've slept for five hours. That's what I want to know: you need more sleep?" Concern colored the older brother's voice.
"Probably could use a little bit more," Sam said honestly.
"Want to get some food and stop for the night?" Dean said secretly hoping Sam would say yes, so they could stop, and Dean would be able to get some sleep of his own. He was almost as exhausted as his brother, but he would never admit to it. It was his job to take care of Sam, and they needed some place to lay low. Ideally, it would be Bobby's. But both of them were too drained from the past two days activities to go any farther.
"Sounds good," Sam smiled, leaning back against the window. Well, it was supposed to be a smile. It came out looking more like a lopsided grimace.
Before Dean had even pulled out of the driveway, Sam was already back asleep. Motel first, then food. Dean's eyes scanned the road looking for a cheap motel that appeared slightly better than their usual accommodations. No way was he letting a drugged and exhausted little brother crash out in their usual dives, especially when he himself was just as wiped out. No one to keep watch for sketchy characters, natural and/or supernatural.
There. Dean found just the motel he was looking for. Better looking than their normal digs. Sam slumbered in the car while Dean went to get the keys. "Hey Sam. Sam," Dean shook his brother's shoulder. "We're here. Let's go inside." Seeing the motel room seemed to make both Winchesters even more tired.
Sam fell onto the bed farthest from the door.
"I'm gonna order a pizza," Dean said.
"Mm-hmm," Sam mumbled his face in the pillow.
"Uh-uh. No you don't. You're going to eat something first narcolepsy boy."
The younger Winchester pulled himself up to a sitting position. "'M awake. Pizza better get here fast."
"No kidding." Dean sat down on the bed, feeling woozy with tiredness. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the number of a pizza place from a menu he had found on the nightstand. Watching Sam attempt to stay awake for pizza, a million questions ran through Dean's mind. Number one was: what were they going to do now? First priority was to get to Bobby's. He would be able to help. He would help the Winchesters figure out how to deal with this new lifestyle. But that was a problem to be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, pizza and sleep were the only two things needed.
The next morning found both brothers well rested and back in the car on their way to South Dakota. Sam still looked like a petulant toddler in need of a nap. He could probably sleep for month. Dean was no longer tired, but his nerves were just as much on edge as they had been the two days before. He had things he'd wanted to talk about, but at the same time he kind of wanted those thoughts to stay undisturbed. No telling how bent out of shape Sam would get when they finally got around to discussing the forced hospital stay. If Dean was lucky, his brother would sleep for most of the day again. But when was a Winchester ever lucky? Sure enough, after the first stop for gas Dean got back in the car to Sam seeming to make an effort to burn a hole in the steering wheel with his eyes.
"What's up, Sammy. How you feeling?" The older Winchester figured if he kept the conversation light, it would lead only where he wanted it to go.
"It's Sam. And I'm fine," Sam muttered. His eyes moving from the steering wheel, now that Dean had returned to the car, to the glove box. "Less tired."
"That's awesome. Looks like that stop did you some good."
"Not enough, "came another almost imperceptible response.
"Something on your mind, Sam?" The older brother inwardly cringed at the conversation he was about to start. The one he had been trying to save until South Dakota, until they had Bobby to use as a referee. The car was quiet, only the sound of Led Zepplin filling the car, as Sam seethed and stewed in his thoughts over in the passenger seat. Dean knew his brother was still steamed at being coerced into the whole hospital and medication fiasco. But it was for his own good. However, Dean knew that didn't matter to Sam. He knew Sam only saw the hospital visit as a con job, a pointless con job at that. Now, Dean was just waiting for the explosion to come. It was like waiting for the timer on a bomb to go off. Except, the older Winchester had no idea how much time was left on the timer. Could be minutes, could be hours. No telling how long Sam would hold this grudge. But his face was set in a hard scowl, his arms crossed against his chest, his gaze fixed on the glove box refusing to even glance at Dean.
Finally, the outburst came when Dean was least expecting it. Sam had gone so still and silent, the older Winchester thought his brother had either fallen asleep or given up. That was just the calm before the storm. The minute Dean turned to glimpse his brother, Sam blew up. Words came out of his mouth so fast it took Dean a few moments to comprehend what he was saying and catch up to Sam's thoughts.
When he did, he felt anger pouring off Sam in waves.
"So what are we going to do now, Dean? None of those doctors told us anything we didn't already know. You made me sit in a stupid doctor's office. Then you let them keep me overnight hooked up to electrodes and all that other junk. For what? These flashbacks, nothing can fix them. So there's no use trying." The younger Winchester's words spilled from his mouth like bullets. Each one made a point to his brother.
Dean attempted to protest, "Sammy, I've never known you to give up."
But Sam continued his tirade oblivious to his brother's interruption, "Eventually, the wall is going to come down. And I'm going to have to deal with it whether I like it or not. Whether you like it or not. I'm going to have to deal with it. Me, not you. Not the doctors, me. I'm not some damn science experiment! I'm a person. A living, breathing, human being."
"I know you're human, Sammy."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, you are a human. Unless, there's something you're not telling me," Dean said attempting to lighten the mood. Sam's face remained grim, so Dean continued, "But you've experienced more than most humans. Heck, even more than most supernatural things. You've always wanted normal, and I want you to get as close to that as you can. "
"I'm never going to be normal. We're never going to be normal." Exasperation at being treated like an experiment then having to listen to his brother's lame attempt to rationalize it began to color the younger Winchester's voice. "I never was, and now I really never will be," he said resigned. "I just have to learn to live with it. So do you."
"I know," Dean sighed almost as exasperated as his counterpart. Watching your younger brother decked out like a lab rat was almost as much fun as being the lab rat. "I just want to help." Why couldn't Sam see that was all he wanted to do? Help his little brother.
"Well, you can't help all the time. Some things I have to do on my own. Dealing with these memories is one of those things." Why couldn't Dean see this was all just a waste of time? Sam didn't want, didn't need, and couldn't even use Dean's help if he wanted to. So why did his tenacious older brother keep trying?
Dean continued on as though he hadn't even heard Sam's complaint, "Sometimes not every solution to a supernatural problem has to be supernatural. Just take the pills and see if they help. What's the worst that can happen? They don't work. So what? We move on to another solution."
While Sam was beginning to see the logic to his brother's argument, he didn't want to give Dean the satisfaction of being right. Not to mention he was still bitter about being dragged to the doctor for a supernatural problem. Therefore he responded with, "So what?! So what?! I spent the day being poked and prodded, and the night looking like some kind of alien science experiment. That's what! What happens if these drugs don't work Dean? And don't say we're going to use your magic pills. I wouldn't touch those with a ten foot pole. Actually, a thousand foot pole. So what happens? We're right back at square one. That's what happens. Wouldn't it be easier if we just stayed on square one? Then there would be no disappointment for you."
He had kept his mouth shut for the entirety of the blowout. Now, the elder Winchester moved to object but was cut off.
"Don't tell me you wouldn't be disappointed. You'll be more disappointed than me if this whole thing doesn't pan out. You're gonna feel like the whole mess is your fault. But it's not. It was my choice to jump into the pit. You couldn't have stopped me; you shouldn't have stopped me. You did the right thing. And you did the right thing by getting me my soul back. That whatever it was wasn't me. So stop beating yourself up and get over it. It's my problem not yours. You are not responsible for me. You never should have been. You were four-years-old. You should have been a kid, not a parent. Now, I'm 29-years-old, not nine, so you don't have to hover. I can take care of myself."
While the giant bag of wind next to him was paused for breath, Dean scooped up his chance to get a word in. "I know you can, Sam. You've been taking care of yourself since you were thirteen. I worry about you is all. You're my little brother. You always will be, and it's my big brother priority to worry about you and take care of you. No matter how old you are. Nine or Twenty-nine."
Sam, for his part, didn't waste time arguing just huffed and conceded. "Fine, I'll take the drugs. But only until we're positive, they don't work because I'm telling you right now, they're not going to."
Big brother was going to take a win where he could get it, but he had one last thing to add, "Have a little faith, Sammy. Aren't you always telling me 'all it takes is a little faith? A little belief?'"
Unbeknownst to Dean, he had opened a whole other can of worms, "That was before our lives went to hell in hand-basket. Literally. You and I have both been to hell. We discovered angels are even bigger dicks than demons. I'm not sure what I believe anymore." Sam shook his head. "I'm taking your route, your approach to life. No belief: unless I can see it, touch it, kill it. I want proof. Cold hard facts. I want proof these drugs are going to work before I get my hopes up."
"You have every right to get your hopes up," Dean insisted. "You want a better life. Don't feel bad about that. That's what everyone wants."
"I just don't want to disappoint you again." Sam's face fell.
"You could never disappoint me, Sammy," the elder Winchester said, his eyes fixed on the younger who replied to his comment with a skeptical look. He amended his statement, "Except for that time you ran off with Ruby, but that's all in the past. You've more than made up for that mistake. After all, a mistake is just an error you haven't tried to fix. And Sam, I think you've done more than your fair share to fix all the errors you made with Ruby. I forgive you, and I am so proud of you. Now, it's your turn to forgive. You should be proud of yourself. Don't worry about me. Just worry about you. Worry about getting better and keeping those memories behind that wall."
Again, this was territory Dean should have known to leave well enough alone. Sam had agreed to take the drugs. He should be happy. But no, in true stupid stubborn Winchester fashion he had to add those last six words. The words that had Sam rethinking everything he'd just agreed to. "I need to know what happened, Dean. I need to know what I did." Sam was trying to get his message through his brother's thick skull, but everything he'd done had only put him up against a wall as hard as the one in his head. So he tried another tactic, turning his brother's words back on him, "You said yourself, mistakes are errors we don't try to fix. Well, how can I fix what I don't know is broken?"
Damn it. Dean knew his words would come back to bite him in the ass. Stinking, geek little brother. So he fired back, "You're broken." Dean was almost screaming by now, even though he knew it was the wrong thing to say, and he'd regret it later. "The only thing I care about is fixing is you. So stop picking at that wall. If it falls eventually, it falls, and we'll deal with it then. But for now, it's holding, so let it hold. You don't get it. You don't know what you did. I do. I know some of what that thing did, and it wasn't you. I've lost you too many times already. I'm not willing to risk it again. You heard Ash. We've died more than anyone else he knows. One of these times, we won't be so lucky. We won't come back, and I'm not letting your curiosity kill you."
"I'll be fine. I can control my own head," argued Sam.
"You can, can you?" Dean challenged. "Well, then I guess this whole thing in was all my imagination. My drunk brain conjured up all that crazy stuff. You flailing with no control. Then you on the floor: not moving. Yeah, I dreamed the whole thing. It was all in my head. Ha, I doubt it. Newsflash, Sammy. Curiosity killed the cat; what makes you think it won't kill you, too?!"
"Dean!"
"Sam!"
Another sigh was caught on the wind, "Just trust me on this one, okay. Take the pills and leave the wall alone. If they don't work, I'll drop it; I promise. For me, try for me." Dean pulled the trump card out of his deck.
"All right, I already said I'd do it. Just so you know this is entirely for your benefit. I'm doing this under duress," Sam pouted.
"Under duress is fine with me," the older brother replied with a chuckle. At least you're alive to protest, he thought. He smiled to hide his contemplative thoughts as Sam rolled his eyes and watched carefully as the younger Winchester rummaged through the plastic bag at his feet, pulled out a small orange bottle, twisted off the childproof cap, and dry-swallowed two of the pills.
"There. Happy now?" he muttered.
"Ecstatic." Sarcasm colored Dean's voice only to hide how happy he really was and try to get Sam to relax a little. He was also fishing for an honest answer about the pain under the guise of lightening the mood.
Sam, however, knew exactly what his brother was digging for and refused to give it to him. He turned to face the passenger side door, making an effort to go back to sleep, and avoid his brother's worrying glances at the same time.
Despite the fact Sam thought he was being sneaky, Dean saw right through the façade. They continued the drive in uncomfortable silence. That was until the next gas and food stop. When Dean decided, he needed to explain his side of the story. Hopefully, this time without quite as much yelling.
Sam had gone into the convenience store to get snacks and use the facilities while Dean filled the car. As he watched the gas gauge climb higher and higher, he tried to figure out exactly how he wanted to vent his emotions. He hated chick-flick moments and despised feeling vulnerable. But he had a feeling it was what Sam needed to understand. He needed to hear about how terrified these circumstances made Dean. The crazy sensation of fear that engulfed the older brother's being every time one of those episodes hit. Sam needed to know the effect these episodes were having on Dean. Maybe he would be able understand why Dean was so apprehensive about this whole thing.
Sam came out of the door, and the older brother steeled himself. This conversation was going to happen. As much as everything in Dean's being protested being this exposed. For Sam, he had to do this for his little brother.
As Sam climbed into the car, the gas pump gave a final click. Dean stowed the pump and climbed into the driver's seat, keys still in his hand instead of the ignition. Sam stared at him: that confused puppy look on his face.
Dean offered a wan smile in his brother's direction before preparing to start the car.
"Dean, are you sick? Do you want me to drive?" Unease filled Sam's voice as he reached for the keys dangling from his brother's hand.
"We need to talk," was all Dean said before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot, looking for the nearest park or open field.
He spotted an open field next to a dilapidated farm house. Dean's eyes scanned the area for danger and nosy people. The place seemed completely abandoned. No one was around anywhere. Perfect.
He was rethinking his decision; maybe this should wait until Bobby's when he had a buffer in the conversation. They could do this when Sam had someone to talk to about the whole situation, and his thoughts about all of it.
The older Winchester shook the thought away. No, it needed to be done now. The longer Dean put it off, the harder it would be to even broach the subject. But right now, that was the problem. He didn't know how to even begin to bring up the subject of his feelings. He had been taught it was taboo. But he needed to have this conversation. Sam had to understand the toll his condition and attitude were taking on his brother.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam reached across the car for his brother.
The older Winchester shook off the attempt at comfort, focused on finding the driveway to the field. His eyes didn't move from the field. He didn't even look in Sam's direction until the car had come to a complete stop and was off.
Then Dean turned to his brother, still not meeting his gaze. "Let's go." He got out of the car without waiting.
"Go where?" Sam's eyes held a mixture of concern and confusion as he questioned his brother. He was getting worried now. Dean was acting really strange. Not at all like his normal self-assured persona.
Dean didn't say anything more. Just got out of the car and sat on the hood. It was starting to get dark, so they'd probably have to call it a night soon anyway. Because, Sam knew after the exhaustion he'd showed during the testing and as much as he'd slept in the car while they'd been driving, there was no way Dean was going to even think about letting him behind the wheel. And the younger Winchester had no intention of driving. Nor was he going to let Dean drive. He could see lines of exhaustion and dark bruising under Dean's eyes, evidence of lack of sleep. They weren't driving anywhere until they both got some rest.
Right now, all Sam wanted to do was to figure out what had gotten into Dean. So he got out of the car and sat as close to his brother as he dared on the hood of the Impala. They sat there for a while watching the sun begin to go down.
Well, Dean watched the sunset, and Sam watched Dean. The older Winchester stared off into the distance, his gaze never staying in one place too long. Any other person would believe he was taking in the gorgeousness of the sunset, but Sam knew better. Something was definitely up with Dean, and Sam was about to find out.
"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.
The older Winchester shrugged off the hand and opened his mouth, but Sam stopped him. "Don't say you're fine. You're not fine. What's up with you, man? You've been weird ever since we left the hospital. Come talk to me, Dude."
"Sam…"
"Unless the next words out of your mouth are: 'This is what I wanted to talk about' or 'This is why I'm acting so weird', I don't want to hear it. You're the one who wanted to talk. So talk."
Dean turned from the sunset to his brother. His face was serious. His eyes were wide and pleading. It made Sam nervous to see that look in his brother's eyes. It only ever showed up when Sam died. But he kept quiet. When Dean had that look on his face, he would stop speaking the moment he was interrupted, or not speak at all, if he wasn't allowed to begin when he felt ready. So Sam stayed silent, his eyes focused on his brother waiting for Dean to begin. Finally he did, "I can't handle this anymore, Sam. It's all too much. It's going take me down if I let it. I can't do this anymore."
"Dean…" Sam put out a hand again, and once again Dean pulled away.
"No Sammy. It's too much. The seizures, the wall, the year we were separated. I just can't deal with it anymore. I'm done." Dean's shoulders slumped in defeat.
Sam scooted away from Dean, no longer trying to comfort his brother. Dean had just said he was done with Sam. Done with his little brother. He shouldn't be surprised. Dean had been taking care of him from the time they were little. Everyone had their limits. And the older Winchester had reached his at last. Sam didn't blame him. The younger Winchester knew he was a mess. If he was in his brother's shoes, he probably would do the same thing. Dean had to be extremely overwhelmed to even be admitting to this little bit of humanity.
"I can't do this anymore, always being on guard. Afraid something's going to happen. Afraid someone's going to get hurt because of this, because of us. How are we supposed to live? How are we supposed to hunt?" Panic was starting to creep into the edges of Dean's speech.
"That's it," Sam thought. Dean didn't want him around anymore. He was a liability. He was useless. Dean was afraid Sam would get someone hurt or killed. Maybe even get his brother hurt or killed. This was stressing his older brother out. Sam could feel the anxiety flowing off of his brother in waves. He had to put a stop to it. "Dean."
The older Winchester ran a hand down his face, letting out a huff of frustration. "I don't know Sammy. I just don't know," he continued to murmur without even listening to Sam's reply.
"Dean, it's okay. I'll stay at Bobby's. I'll help with research, man the phones, something. I won't go on hunts. I'll do anything to keep you safe. I will not put you in danger. You don't have to worry about me," Sam adamantly tried to make himself heard over Dean's ramblings.
The older Winchester paused in his mumblings. He gave Sam a look that said, "Are you crazy?" He stared incredulously at his brother for a few moments before asking, "What are you talking about?"
Sam froze, confused. "Wait…what? I know you don't want me on hunts anymore. I know you think it's not safe. I don't want to get you killed." Sam's eyes began to shine.
"Sam, what on earth are you talking about?" Again, the "Are you crazy?" look shown in Dean's eyes.
"I know you think I'm useless. Not good for anything but research. I'll stay at Bobby's and help him assemble lore and man the phones. Keep you safe. Keep you from having to deal with this whole medical mess." Sam now had tears in his eyes.
Finally, Dean realized what his brother had been trying to express to him. Sam thought his big brother had wanted to ban him from hunting, wanted to get rid of him. "No, no, Sammy. Stop. That's not it at all. Not what I meant at all."
"Huh?" Sam was confused now. Dean didn't want him gone? The older Winchester turned toward his brother. His eyes were shining just as Sam's were. He was silent while he waited for an explanation. Dean would continue when he was ready.
After a few minutes that felt like forever to Sam, Dean took a shaky breath. His eyes were still shimmering, but not a single tear had fallen. "I…I…I… thought I'd lost you, Sammy. For real this time. I've never felt so desperate, any time, for anything, ever."
Sam threw a confused look his brother's way. Dean's voice was shaking, his eyes were glistening. And the younger Winchester still had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
Dean continued, his voice stronger now, "I mean logically I know this was just a seizure. But Sam, people have died from seizures. And when you were just lying there on the floor of that abandoned house…"he trailed off, and Sam finally had an idea where his brother's thoughts were.
Dean took a deep breath for continuing. "I mean I really thought I'd lost you this time. You were so still. I've never seen you so still except…" Again he paused, mid-sentence, and Sam knew he was remembering Cold Oak. Dean turned from his brother for a moment, trying to compose himself, and a shiver ran down his back. He shook himself as though trying to rid his mind of the memory.
Sam was beginning to understand. Dean was scared. These episodes were frightening his brother, and the only way the brothers had ever been trained to deal with fear was through anger and control. It was a wonder in itself Dean was willing to share his thoughts, fears, and vulnerability. The younger Winchester wisely kept his mouth shut allowing his brother to continue without interruption.
Dean took another breath, and the shudder in his voice was gone for a moment. "It's just these seizures. They make me nervous." Sam knew nervous wasn't the word Dean should be using, but no way was he going to correct his brother when he was in such a sharing mood. At the word nervous, the older Winchester's voice began to shake again. "I just don't know what to do."
Sam resisted the urge to touch his brother and break the trance Dean seemed to be in, but he knew if he did, Dean would clam up. He would shove down all the feelings, and the exposed raw emotion he was revealing would be gone. The tough exterior, the need to put others before him would be back. If the older brother was allowed to continue, Sam knew he would be able to absorb information and maybe be able to get some insight as to what was making his brother act so strangely.
Dean continued, "I mean if they're the worst thing or even the only thing that's going to come up from your time in Hell, I'm okay with that. That's great. It could have been a lot worse. You could have come back broken or super injured. I mean, at first I thought I'd lost you to the goddamn devil. Worst year of my life, Sammy." He shook again like he was trying to clear the memory. "I mean I love Lisa. But it wasn't right. You weren't there; it wasn't right."
The tremor was now even more noticeable. "Then I got you back, but you were that soulless dickbag automaton. It was like working with your evil twin. That robot looked like you, sounded like you, but it wasn't you. In the beginning, I was so happy to have you back I didn't even question it. But the way it hunted without even thinking. Just fighting and killing on autopilot. I knew something was up. But I didn't want to question having you back. I didn't want to think about you coming back different." Dean's voice caught, remembering what the yellow-eyed demon had told him the first time his brother had come back from the dead. Are you sure what you brought back was 100% pure Sammy? He shivered at the memory.
Sam had no idea what his brother was remembering each time he shook himself like a dog getting water out of its fur, but from the severity of shakes it wasn't good. Now, Dean was stuck in whatever bad memory had assaulted him. "Dean," Sam called risking a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean. Now, do you understand why I have to do this? I need to prove to myself that wasn't me."
"It wasn't you," Dean insisted. "That's why I got Death to put your soul back in. Because you were you, but not you. Your soul is what makes you who you are. That thing had your body, your mind but it wasn't you. It was scary. Like Stepford or something. He didn't have a conscience or any morals at all. I mean he let me…" Dean stopped, drawn into another memory.
"Let you do what?"
"Forget it Sam. It's not important."
"See this is what I've been talking about Dean. I need to know what I did. Even if it wasn't me. That's why I've been pushing so hard at the wall. I want to know what people think I did. No matter the consequences." Sam tried to get his point across one final time. Why didn't Dean understand? His brother's face crumbled, and the younger Winchester had the feeling he was about to get his answer.
"Consequences," Dean said. Anger started to seep into his voice. "You're the one that doesn't know about consequences Sam. Let me tell you about consequences." The older Winchester sucked in a quick breath before he went on. "After Death put your soul back in, you were in this weird coma thing. Cass said he had no idea how you were still even alive. He said when he touched your soul it felt like it had been skinned alive. He said if I had wanted to kill you, I should have just done it outright. He told me you would probably never wake up. He said if you did wake up, you would probably be a giant, drooling vegetable. I felt horrible. I kept wondering if I'd made the right decision. Like what good was having your soul back if you weren't going to be awake to use it? What good would giving your soul back be if you weren't you? If you were some drooling mess without your awesome geek boy mind? Or if you were so damaged from Hell and all that crap you did when you were soulless that you weren't any different from T-1000? That's what the wall is supposed to protect you from. From becoming a vegetable or a drooling mess or terminator. I know I messed up Sam. I did it without thinking. I went up to Death and just asked him to put your soul back in without even considering the consequences. Without thinking about what it would do to you. I just wanted you back. I couldn't deal with that automaton anymore. I didn't even consider what would happen if you didn't come back as you." A single tear ran down Dean's face, and he turned away, leading Sam to think there were more tears he wasn't supposed to see. But the younger Winchester could still hear the hitch in his brother's voice.
Dean ran a hand down his face and cleared his throat. He had regained his composure. "But you did wake up, and you were you. And I still didn't know what to do. I was so happy. So relieved. I had been preparing for all these worse case scenarios. All the crap Cass had said, but you came upstairs all on your own. Put your socks on and everything. You were hungry and asking questions, wanting to hunt. You…You…You were you." The older Winchester swallowed feeling the tears begin to clog his throat. "We were doing so well, going on hunts and being brothers again. Then these seizures came. When you were on the floor of that abandoned house, all I could think was, Cass was right. All the crappy stuff he had predicted was happening. You were going to lose yourself or become a vegetable or a drooling mess. I was so scared. Sammy, I was terrified. You'd come back only for me to lose you. And it would have made losing you that much harder." Dean heaved a sigh and slumped over as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. As if telling Sam everything, all the feelings he'd been keeping inside, had been too much for him to handle.
The older Winchester looked horrible as if he had just finished a bad hunt. His facial expression was ragged. His whole body hunched over defeated. Then finally he turned to completely face Sam, his eyes filled with unshed tears and a pleading expression that rivaled Sam's own puppy dog eyes. "You can't poke that wall Sam. I know you want to know what you did. I get it. I do. But that robot wasn't you. I can't take a chance on you, Sammy. We don't know what messing with that wall could do. Death put it up in your head to protect you. Hell and who knows what else is behind there. If we mess around with it, everything Cass said could come true. I could lose you. You wouldn't be you anymore. You could lose your soul again. You could become a vegetable. You could lose your mind. And what would I do Sam? What would I do if that happened? I wouldn't be able to handle it. I'm petrified of losing you Sam. Please don't do that to me Sam. I'll help you research. I'll find out what happened when you were soulless. Just please don't go exploring on your own. Don't scratch the wall. We'll do it together. Please, Sam, please. I need you to…I need…just trust me little brother." Dean collapsed into himself, resting his face on his folded arms. On Dean's exposed cheek, Sam could see tear tracks forming.
Sam sat in stunned silence. His big brother, his hero, had just admitted to not only feeling vulnerable but scared to the point of terror. The great Dean Winchester feared losing his little brother. Now, Sam finally understood the past few days. The hovering, the tests, the medications, the badgering. It was all Dean's way of making sure Sam was safe.
Because if Sam was okay, Dean was okay.
Sam didn't know what to say, his brother's monologue had left him speechless. At first, he didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled his brother into a hug. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around his older brother and squeezed him so hard, Dean couldn't breathe. He wriggled to get free. But the younger Winchester just folded his arms tighter around his brother. Eventually, the older Winchester gave in. His arms snaked around his little brother. He pulled Sam closer if that was possible, and gripped his neck so hard Dean was sure it would leave bruises, but he didn't care. He buried fingers in Sam's hair and tugged Sam's head down so it rested on his shoulder.
Sam could feel wet patches developing on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to burst into tears himself. He pursed his lips in an effort to not say anything either. There wasn't anything that could follow up Dean's monologue. They didn't move, just held each other, where no one else could see.
By the time they released each other, it was dusk. Stars were beginning to dot the navy sky. "Motel?" Dean asked scrubbing a hand across the tear tracks decorating his face.
"Nah," Sam said, wiping away a few lagging tears of his own. "Let's stay here. Just you, me, and Baby." Sam returned a small smile, when Dean grinned at his referring to the Impala as Baby. He slid off the hood and went to the backseat, digging two beers out of the old green cooler they had had as long as Sam could remember. "I think we both need these. And we need to spend the night here. Just the two of us and the car. Like the old days," he said climbing back on the hood. He handed Dean a beer and leaned back against the windshield. They stayed there for a few hours, watching the sky darkening, staring up at the constellations, and sipping their beers until they were both almost asleep. When they were almost completely out, both brothers climbed off the hood and into the car, Dean in the front, Sam in the back. They locked the doors and settled in.
Dean motioned for Sam to hand him the cooler, which he shoved under the dashboard on the passenger side. Then he got comfortable with his head against the passenger side door, facing Sam in the backseat. "Night, Bitch. No more chick-flick moments."
Sam had his head pillowed on an old sweatshirt against the backseat driver's door. His eyes were already closed, but he muttered back, "Night, Jerk. You started it."
There would be no continuing to Sioux Falls tonight.
