Chapter 11
In the yard
Dean's imagination has taken him to the possibility of Sam and him ending up in prison one day – hell, been there, done that – but a military detention center? A high security mental ward on said military detention center? In Cuba? He would have reined in his imagination long before letting it get that far from sanity.
This is not the direction he had ever foreseen his life going, and damnit, it's not how life is supposed to be for his little brother. "Fucking Winchester luck," he mutters as he stands facing the fence where if you look between the weird x-shaped buildings and miles of tall fencing covered in concertina wire you could see a sliver of sun sparkling off the ocean.
As he hears the door behind him slam, Dean turns awkwardly, the fetters at his waist and leg irons robbing him of his predatory grace. His brother is squinting in the sunlight, bound as he is, but they are both here in this yard and alone. Dean cannot waste this opportunity. "Fifteen minutes," calls out the guard before slamming the door. The brothers shamble toward each other.
Sam and Dean lean into each other, unable to hug, needing to feel that the other is alive and okay. Sam rests his cheek on his brother forehead. "Hey, Dean, we've gotta talk, strategize. They didn't give me long and we've…we've got to get out of here."
Dean reluctantly breaks the partial embrace he has on his brother, steps back. The look in his tear-filled eyes is sorrowful as he begins to apologize. "Sammy, I am so sorry for getting you dragged into this. Man, I never, ever, wanted this for you. You should be in school, living your life with your lady vet in West Texas." He keeps talking even though his brother is trying to interrupt. "Let me finish, Sam. …Goddamnit, Sam, let me say this. I am sorry I ever came back into your life after Purgatory, after you found some peace. I fucked it up Sam. Looks like for both of us."
As Dean raises his green eyes to his brother, he is greeted with a full on Sam bitchface. And Sam is angry. "Finished, Dean?" Sam growls out. "I swear if we weren't chained up I'd deck your stupid ass for what you just said. Not come back into my life after Purgatory? Is that really what your delusional mind thinks would have been a better solution? You, you…ass. You, jerk!" Sam takes a step back still pinch faced and glaring at his brother. "Don't you ever think it would be better for me to think you are dead. I – damnit, Dean – is that some kind of payback for the year I was soulless, cause, Man, how could you even think of that?"
Sam is shaking so hard that he's afraid he's going to fall over. "I fell apart when I thought you were gone for good. That I was alone without you. Damnit, Dean. You frikkin jerk. You're my big brother. You're my family. You've always looked out for me…and I…I didn't even know where to start looking for you. You needed me, and I just…" He breaks off, takes a deep breath and tries again. "I want us to be together and free."
The two brothers stand there eye-to-eye a moment longer, but when Dean's mouth quirks up a little and he looks like he's about to make a smart-ass comment, Sam huffs and straightens a little more. "Don't even think about making a joke right now, Dean."
Sam steadily shoots him a stern glance, and Dean bites the inside of his mouth. "Yessir," he mutters, but he allows his love and pride in his brother to creep into his gaze. "Well, then, c'mon, College boy. I got us into this mess. What's your plan to get us out of it?"
Sam and Dean shuffle over to a picnic table and perch shoulder-to-shoulder as they begin to discuss their predicament. "I got us fifteen minutes by describing the uses of the tools and weapons from the trunk." Sam watches storm clouds come back into his brother's eyes at that statement. "Dean, we may have to cooperate here. This is the government."
"Right, Sam, this is people in the government. People, Sam, Stupid civilians who think they understand the Supernatural because they suddenly got a glimpse at what they've been ignoring a long time." Dean cut into Sam's explanation angrily. "Don't think because they've got us trapped that it makes them right. Don't tell them anything."
Sam glares back. "We tried it your way, Dean. Look where that's gotten us. Have you even tried to find out what exactly they want from us?" Dean has his head down, trying to rub his temples with his thumbs. "Have you, Dean?"
Dean looks into the taller man's eyes to answer. "I tried once, Sam. When they first let me know my cover was blown. I told them I'd give them anything they wanted. Anything. If they would just leave you out of it." He looks around, gestures with his chin, and shrugs. "Does it look like they'll keep their word? 'Cause if you think they will. I'll do what you tell me to. I figure I've screwed the pooch pretty badly here – got us both into this mess. Got you involved. Make the call, Sam. I will do whatever you want me to, little brother."
Sam stares into space a minute, considering. "So who has authority to make these kinds of decisions?"
It's his brother's turn to look thoughtful. "Guess that's where we start then, Sammy. That and insisting that they put us back in the same room so we can have each other's back. I suck at being alone, Sam. That's why I dragged you back so many years ago…and I'm sorry, but I still suck at being alone."
Sam bumps his shoulder gently into his brother's. "Me too, Dean. Me too."