Where are you?
Chapter Eleven
The place was called The Retreat and Dean felt that was what they were doing, retreating, leaving everything behind and hiding from a world that he, Dean, no longer understood.
They were careful not to call it a hospital, a clinic, a rehabilitation centre. It looked more like a smart hotel than anything else and there was nothing clinical about it; there was no antiseptic smell, no whitewashed walls, no hard and scratchy beds. There were private rooms, a swimming pool, games rooms and a smart wide screen TV. It was expensive but Bobby had handed them a credit card 'acquired' in their name and they could easily afford it.
Sam had wanted to come to this particular place in Nevada because it was close to the Grand Canyon. Dean didn't understand why his brother was so insistent but he went along with it, wanting only to make Sam happy, to become the brother Sam wanted and, more importantly, needed.
They weren't allowed to see each other during the day, whilst they had therapy, but at night they could share a room and do whatever they wished. They weren't prisoners here, but were encouraged to stay close, to use the facilities. If it weren't for the huge gaping hole in Dean's head and Sam's almost constant shaking, he might imagine that they were on a wonderful vacation.
Missouri had travelled back to Lawrence, insisting that they come and visit as soon as they were able. Before she left she held Dean close to her ample bosom and whispered, gently, in his ear "I've opened that door just a crack boy, but you need to let the memories through, you need to take the block off" she brushed his hair "I don't think you want to let them out Dean and that is the problem"
Dean shuddered, looking out of the window. They were in desert country and the weather was hot and dry. He wondered, briefly, if Missouri was right. Was he blocking his memories? Why would he do that? Granted most of the thoughts that had invaded his fuzzy mind were grim and dark, but that wasn't a reason to block out the rest – or was it?
He had the feeling that the 'old' Dean – the other Dean – would never have allowed this to happen. The other Dean would never check himself into rehab, never let his emotions show, never show such weakness. The other Dean would protect Sam; the other Dean wouldn't let his baby brother fall into a downward spiral of drink and drugs. He wondered what the 'old' Dean was like because, to be honest, he sounded like a bit of an ass. Maybe that was another reason for blocking out his memories; he just didn't want to be 'that' Dean again.
Sam joined him for dinner but neither of them ate much. Sam drank lots of water and Dean stuck to coffee. The night was fresh and warm and they strolled in the grounds, a comfortable silence between them. Tomorrow they would begin treatment and Dean didn't even want to think about it, about what might happen if his memory did suddenly return.
Sam was restless; tossing and turning. Dean rolled over in his bed and peered through the darkness. Sam was muttering and Dean caught snippets of words like 'Dad', 'Dean', 'Stop'. Finally Dean could take no more and got out of his own bed, sitting beside Sam, his hand automatically going to his brother's shoulder and shaking lightly.
"Dean?" Sam's eyes opened "What's happening?"
"Dreaming a little loud there Sammy"
"Was I?" Sam sat up and flipped on the bedside light "God Dean – I could really use a drink right now" he grinned wryly "I guess you wouldn't believe I used to have a two beer limit"
"Yeah" Dean smiled back, his hand still resting on his brother's shoulder "I'm sorry Sam – really sorry"
"For what?"
"For everything"
"Dean – none of this is your fault – it's – it's all mine"
"Sam – you have to stop blaming yourself – what happened – it was none of it your fault"
"What if he comes for me again?" Sam's voice was soft "I – we – we won't be able to fight him – he'll win Dean and this time – I might actually kill you"
"He isn't going to win Sammy" Dean swallowed hard, speaking with a conviction he certainly didn't feel "We're gonna get better and then we're gonna go out and kick some demon ass" he grinned "How does that sound?"
"Like Dean Winchester" Sam's eyes were hopeful, eyes glowing in the soft light of the room "It sounded like my big brother"
"It's going to be ok Sam" Dean was even more determined to find himself again "It's going to be ok"
"So Mr Winchester – Dean – where shall we start?" his therapist was a middle aged black man who had kind eyes and a determined expression "Amnesia is a tricky little monster" he smiled "So tell me what you do remember?"
"Images" Dean returned the smile. This was going to be harder than he thought. If he mentioned hunting, demons or monsters he was going to be committed "I can see myself doing things – but I don't remember actually doing them. Sometimes there are flashes – smells –sounds – but it is like I'm watching someone else – a different me"
"Are the memories pleasant?" the man's eyes were sharp
"No – no most of the time – they are painful – unpleasant" Dean's voice wavered "They rush in at me – I can't stop them"
"Do you want to stop them?" the question was so like Missouri's that Dean felt his heart falter "Do you want to remain ignorant? Maybe get rid of the old you – start afresh?"
"I – I don't know" he stared at the man "I – I remember my brother – remember him as a baby – looking after him – those memories are so clear – so sharp – I know that was me"
"Do you love your brother?"
"He's all I have – my mom – she's dead and so is my dad – I don't remember them much – but my brother – he – he's always been here"
"You want to get better don't you Dean? For Sam"
"Sam needs me"
"Then you have to let those memories back in" his therapist shut his pad and smiled "We can talk all day Dean – but in my view – what is wrong with you isn't physical anymore – it isn't about your head injury – but you already knew that – didn't you?"
"Yeah" the truth was staring him in the face and he knew with painful clarity that the therapist and Missouri had been right all along. He didn't want to be Dean Winchester - demon hunter, killer of all things evil, protector of the weak – anymore. Sure he wanted to be Dean Winchester – awesome big brother and protector of Sammy – but that was all. He stared at the therapist – his jaw slack. He wanted nothing more than to grab Sam and bolt, take the Impala and drive to the Grand Canyon.
Shit – images began to assault his senses – Sam – drinking beer – smiling – Dean offering to quit – to go see the Grand Canyon – Sam angry – the voice that had haunted his dreams bursting in his head "Does this mean I'm gonna go dark side?" Dean shuddered, his eyes closing, his head spinning. The faint memories that were beginning to seep into his mind suddenly surged forward and the door that had only been open a crack before was suddenly flung open. Dean groaned and he was barely aware of the therapist's hand on his arm – a voice soft and persuasive – blowing his mind wide open "Let them in Dean – let them in"
TBC