(Thank you for everyone who reviewed, alerted, etc. Love you all. As per usual, thanks to my beta, Merisha. :) She's amazing. Any errors are my own, probably because I don't have time to re-read anything. Enjoy.)
Chapter 11: Going Under
Sam and Bobby searched frantically for Dean, Sam driving out in the Impala, searching for his brother with Bobby staying close to the motel, in case Dean came back on his own.
The two had sat stunned after Dean took off, his body like normal; that beautiful tiger's grace sliding around him, cocooning him with his anger, and taking him away from them. The rain began to fall an hour after Sam started searching, as though the sky cried with the young man, bleeding empty tears.
By the time Sam recovered from his initial shock to go after Dean, he'd been a little too late, Dean had disappeared from view. Thinking he'd seen his brother, Sam had searched some of the area on foot, before climbing into the Impala to search faster.
Dean's broken body lay near the side of the road, mirroring his soul, as the ice of the rain drew the heat off his body, his love, and his will to live, pulling him away with each drop running in rivulets down the road, drawing away from him in trails of pink and red. The stitches on his back had broken with his exertions, freeing the crimson stains, allowing the water to tug it in dancing eddies down the dark road, swirling helplessly in the pools of water and mixing into the soft mud.
A young couple driving down the slick road, water spinning off the treads of their truck see a pile on the side of the road. Driving past, the woman cries out, her words rending the peace of the night, shattering brightly against the rhythm of the rain.
"Stop the car!" Her plea means nothing to the man lying there, the life slipping slowly out of his body, turning his flesh a cold blue that turns grey as his breathing slows ever more gradually, each crystal tear playing his life away, crimson whorls dropping into the dark.
"Oh my god do you think someone ran him over?!" her voice is shrill and terrified, and the man slipping down out of the truck crouches down.
"He's still alive, oh god, look at all the blood! Quick find a blanket or something! Hurry up, he's freezing!" The man could feel Dean's soft heartbeat pulsing against his fingertips, fading gently away, like the sound of butterfly wings.
In a pool of his own blood, Dean had fallen into a slight depression in the dirt at the side of the road, the water creeping up higher, seeking to cover his body. The man lifted Dean halfway up out of the mud, seeking the source of the blood that coated Dean's entire back. Eventually his seeking fingers felt the heat on Dean's back and pulled his shirt up, "Oh god." With his wife's help, the man was able to lift Dean into the truck precariously placed between both of them, to keep him warmer. "Where'd he come from? There's no one around for miles," he said softly to his wife.
"There was a motel not too far back. He's bleeding badly, but I haven't seen a hospital…"
"Maybe someone at the motel knows him, but we can probably get him in there and keep him warm until an ambulance comes."
"Does he have any ID on him or anything?"
"He's not even wearing shoes…tore his feet up good."
"Keep putting pressure on the bleeding. Maybe we can slow it down."
"How far was the motel?"
"Not much longer, I don't think."
They passed Sam, the Impala's engine roaring defiantly against the darkness.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Bobby was standing under the eaves, watching for some sign of Dean, seeing him in the truck with two other people, Bobby shot for the vehicle, all caution and sense of propriety gone, he had to get to Dean.
"Dean!"
"Do you know him?"
"That's my nephew, this is my nephew, c'mon Dean, wake up!" Bobby helped the man who introduced himself in a soft southern accent, calling himself Phillip. The woman's name, Alana. Between the three of them, Dean is gently carried into the motel room and settled on his front, so Bobby can remove the now useless sutures and stitch in new ones.
"Excuse me a minute," Bobby dials Sam as he opens the first aid kit, pulling out what he needs, phone held between his ear and shoulder, "Sam, I found Dean. Get your ass back here, now." Threading the needle carefully, Bobby sighs heavily, and begins to work on Dean's back, knowing the young man's fever is back, despite the icy feeling to his skin. His forehead's too hot, and his face is flushed. He's not shivering, though. Too cold to shiver.
"What happened to him?"
--
I sigh in annoyance, as I almost miss the stitch I'm trying to make, which would involve needlessly stabbing Dean with the needle. "He's suffering a little from shell shock, he hasn't been back from Iraq very long." Now leave me alone so I can work! It's a big ass cut! Deep, too, it bares muscle. Damnit Dean. Did you have to go and do this to yourself? He walked out on us some time around eight at night, and it's almost sunup. Damnit Dean. When Sam burst in the door, I look up at him, our eyes meeting, and we share a moment of perfect clarity.
--
I come over to Dean, watching Bobby. Something's wrong. More wrong than usual. Checking Dean's pulse, there isn't one.
"He's not breathing!" It hurts so bad, but Bobby's already flipping Dean onto his back, and starting CPR. The couple in the room seem pretty freaked, and we're all soaking wet.
"Dean please…" I whisper, please breathe. Please come back to me. Please stop waking up without knowing us, or anything. Please get your strength back; please...just be my big brother again. I don't feel the tears running down my cheeks, but I know they're there.
When Dean first inhales on his own again, so slow…soft, Bobby turns to me.
"Sam, he's not fighting."
"No! He's Dean! He's always fighting, Bobby!"
"Sam, he's not fighting."
"No…please, no…" I move over to my brother, shoving Bobby away. Pulling Dean up into my arms, I feel the tears come faster. "Please…no…Dean!" Is this how he felt? Cradling my body as the life slipped out of me…my back ripped open at the spine? Knowing that nothing he could do would save me, feeling the heat of my blood stealing the warmth from my body, tugging my life away, and dripping into the ground…is this how he felt? "Dean!" Rocking him back and forth in my arms, I hold him to my chest. "Don't leave me!" rips itself from my throat before I can stop it. I don't want these strangers seeing this. This is my brother, and I can't live without him. I did it once.
I didn't want to waste what he sacrificed for me. Dean gave up his life for me, and so I can live it for him, the way he would have wanted, I guess. I know that Dean figured since Dad saved him, it was 'fate' so that he could give up his life for me. I know that. Dean's always thought he was worthless, but he's not! He's not! I need him! I don't want to keep on living if Dean's not going to be around! And this time, if I lose him this time, I'm ending things, I'm going out with him. This time it wasn't some sacrifice he made, if he gives up, I'm giving up too! It's not like Dean ever liked being alone, so I won't let him be.
"Don't leave me alone!" Gripping him, my hands seek purchase, like I can pull him back from wherever he is, wherever he's leaving me for, if I can just get the right hold on him.
"Sam…" It's Bobby's voice.
"NO!" he's not dying, he's not giving up! He's my brother! Dean never quits, he just keeps going and going. That's Dean. He's like the energizer bunny, just less creepy.
And he was right, when they had that commercial with the aliens, it would have made more sense if they probed the bunny instead of just hooking up jumper-cables to its ears.
"Sam, c'mon son."
"He's still breathing Bobby! He's my brother, and I'm not giving up on him!"
"Sam, we gotta get him to a hospital then."
"If we take him back they won't let him leave again! He hates hospitals Bobby, he hates them. I won't do that to him!"
I'm not all right, not at all. And neither are you…that much I know.
His breath is so light. It's like a slight…he's barely breathing. "Dean…" I moan, rocking him still. "Wake up, please wake up. Dean!" I want to hit him, shake him…sobbing into his shoulder, I keep rocking. I can't stop the movement, I'm barely aware of it, just enough to notice that Dean's weight shifts along with mine. His clothes are wet, soaking into mine. Not that I wasn't already pretty wet from before, but it's not doing us any favors. I see his blood soaking from his pants into mine, watching the red spread up the fibers. He's so cold. "Bobby, you gotta stitch him up!" I'll get you warm, Dean, don't leave me! Bobby just looks at me, and I don't know what he sees in my face, but his reaction scares me. But he starts working on Dean's back again, and I can't stop crying. "Please Dean, don't leave me. God don't let him leave me, Dean stay with me, please, keep breathing. Don't leave me, I need you, dude, you're supposed to be a pain in my ass, trying to protect me all the time. Guess it's my turn to save you for a change, okay? But you gotta stay alive…please, don't stop fighting, Dean." I can't do this without you anymore, man. You've always been there for me, always. What'm I supposed to do without you, huh? I can't go back to Stanford, not since Dad died, there's no point in going back, no one to prove I can be normal to. And I couldn't leave Dean alone. Not any more than I could bring Mom and Jess back could I ever abandon Dean. Bobby stitches him up the rest of the way. The couple's standing there, probably talking to Bobby, but all I hear are Dean's soft ragged breaths as he struggles to breathe. Bobby done, I start rocking again, wishing the strangers would just go. Lifting Dean up, my body protests, I'm exhausted, and I ache. He's heavy. He's my brother, he ain't heavy. I can bear his weight as long as I have to.
I drag him into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind us, before turning on the water, hoping it'll get hot soon, as I work his soaking clothes off, god he's so cold. I pull the bandages off his hands, leaving the splints on his fingers and the Band-Aids over a few fingertips to protect where the nail was. Those don't matter, but the cloth…it's just keeping the cold and wet in. He's filthy, I notice, at first just supporting him in the tub and doing my best to get the mud and blood off of him, before he starts to stir slightly, inhaling the tiniest bit deeper.
Unless I'm imaging things, but I swear I saw his eyelids flicker. As he starts to heat up, and some color starts coming back to his skin, I've got my arm around his shoulders, leaning halfway into the tub my stomach pressed against the lip of it, his head resting against my chest, he moans softly, and the water starts running clear, the blood's all washed away. I carefully lean forward, trying to be easy on him as I push the plug down so that hot water'll stay, and keep him warm. I let it fill about halfway, considering the water's bordering on hot. But he's so cold. I know what it's like, to have my hands so numb they hurt, and then to expose them to lukewarm water, and how much it hurts and burns, like the water's a good hundred degrees hotter.
He stirs again, I know it, I'm not imaging the soft flicker of his eyelashes as they flutter open, half seeing me for a few seconds before they close, the soft moan of pain that floats free of his throat, the way he turns his head a little, his hands twitching as he pulls one leg up closer to his chest.
"Dean?" his eyelids flicker open again, trying to focus on my face, I don't think he can. Splashing weakly at the water, I'm not sure what he's trying to do, and I take his hand, his good fingers clamping down on mine with a force I didn't believe he could exert. "Don't hurt yourself," I tell him, unwilling to move my arm from around his shoulders. Pulling him a little closer, I hug him, letting the warm water soak into my clothes, I don't care. "You ever do that again, and I will end you." He blinks wearily at me, almost like he's high. "Dude, talk to me."
"srry Smm" he slurs, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realize he's apologizing. To me.
"No, Dean, dude, it's fine. It's okay, really. Man, just…just, don't even try to talk, I'm sorry. You okay? I mean…damnit." I'm probably confusing him, and he's acting like he has a concussion. I know he doesn't, he's just…groggy. Tired. Worn out. The water's cooling off, but I don't know if it's just getting to a more normal temperature, or if it's actually getting cold. "You think you can sit on your own a half a second?" I ask him, considering my clothes are still wet and cold, and I'm starting to shiver. I'll get some dry clothes and change. Hopefully those people are gone. I passed them on the road.
I woulda seen Dean on my own, so I guess I'm not that grateful they brought him back, because…that's more people who know he's not okay. And they might call an ambulance, and try and take him away from me. And I'm not going to lose him. He nods a little so I carefully lower him down so he can lean against the gentle curve of the back of the tub, and I rush to grab clothes before returning to the bathroom, the couple are still there, talking with Bobby. Coming back into the bathroom I lock the door behind me. Helping Dean shift so he's at least comfortable, "you want the water warmed up?" he just looks at me, so I'm gonna take it as a 'no'.
The worst part of this is that I've seen Dean tired. We've both been pushed so far beyond our limits. But, neither one of us has ever been pushed so far we can't take it. I mean, we've been pushed beyond the limits of our endurance, but never enough to just give up. Never enough that we could even consider it, not with our training, and just so many other things. Like I couldn't leave Dean alone, and he wanted to protect me so badly, so we always just kept going.
--
I let the heat seep back into my bones, watching Sam, well not really watching, but I'm aware of him changing. Pulling on dry clothes. He's an idiot, he's just going to get wet helping me again. I know what I want to say, but I'm too tired to even open my mouth. He came after me. Bobby and him, they wanted me back. I don't understand why they'd do that. I've got blood ties to Sam, but Dad wouldn't have done the same, and Bobby has no reason…I can almost believe they love me. But there's no reason for them to. Not with everything I've done, and everything I haven't. I don't know which is worse, how I've hurt Sammy, or how much I just don't belong anymore. I wanted to come back, I wanted to keep my humanity. Wanted to hope that maybe I could…Sam would have moved on. I wanted him to be happy, I mean, I know he couldn't be really truly…at least, I could hope that he loved me half as much as I love him, and that things wouldn't be quite right without me. But, that he was better than me, he wasn't as weak, and he could move on with his life.
I guess he did, a little.
But, I should just die.
"You ready to get dressed and stuff? You look better." I want to talk. I'm ready. Yeah, help me up. Too tired, though, too tired to move, I know I should, I know I should talk, but my brain's too fogged to get out the words. Nod? Can I nod? Letting my head drop down I fight to pull it up again. I feel like a puppet with all the strings cut, or fraying, or the important ones missing. Lead, my limbs are like lead, I'm so tired. I want to move, I'm just too tired to. Almost like I'm already asleep, and just dreaming I'm hearing Sam talk to me. I'm sorry Sammy. Sammy, I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I just can't.
--
I pick up a towel, and help Dean to sit up before I wrap it around his shoulders, I figure it'll keep me from getting wet, and help him dry off some. And keep my grip from slipping, 'cause I gotta help him stand up. Getting my arms around him, I heave him up, and he tries to get his feet under himself, but he can't. C'mon Dean, fight it. I know he's hurt, I know he's sick, and I know…I know he's scared. Just like I know he's hurting inside, more than I could ever understand, and there's nothing I can do to fix it, because he can't seem to understand the one thing that would help. Bobby'n me, we love him. We'd do anything for him, but I know he can't stop thinking that he's some burden on us, and that we don't really care about him. Although it's not like Dad ever did anything to stop Dean being able to even think things like that. The way he treated Dean, sure Dean was the 'good son' because he was the one who did his best to keep Dad happy, so Dad just ignored him, figuring Dean was fine without anything, because he was doing everything right.
He never told Dean that. So Dean kept trying harder, figuring he wasn't doing enough, wasn't doing it right, and he's never really recovered from that. I don't think he can. I don't now how much of it Dean even realizes, himself. I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry.
"You lost a lot of blood, okay Dean? You're not gonna feel right for a day or two. You gotta eat something, though, or drink something. Alright? But you're going to be okay. I promise." I help Dean dry off, basically doing it myself, but it's okay. He's my brother, and I'd die for him. This is nothing. Helping him dress, I lift him up, knowing he's not going to be able to walk into the bedroom part of the motel room we're in. He sort of protests, I think, but I can't tell. "Wore yourself out, you jerk. Don't ever do that again, okay!?" I try and keep some of the snap out of my voice, but he scared me to death. Thought I was going to lose him again.
"He's okay Bobby, really. Just needs some water and some rest, and he'll be fine." The couple is still here, why, I don't know, but I'm a little pissed. That woman still looks freaked out, but her husband looks calm. Helping Dean settle into bed, I loop an arm around his shoulders using my free hand to pick up the half-empty Propel bottle, so I can coax Dean into drinking it. Unscrewing the lid, he's already falling asleep on me. "C'mon dude, just another few minutes." I couldn't let him sleep if I was afraid he wasn't going to wake up. Holding the bottle up to his lips, he eyed me before letting his eyelids flutter almost closed, as if condescending to tell me he'd drink the stuff if I'd leave him alone after. Helping him get the water down, I let him lie down before I tugged the blankets up over him. Glaring at the others, I guess I gave them what Dean calls my bitch-face, because Bobby gave me this look.
"Look, thanks for your help," I tell the couple, pursing my lips in annoyance, "But he just needs rest, and he'll be fine, and I'm sure you've got a journey ahead of you, and I wouldn't want to keep you any longer, Bobby, either."
"Actually Sam, they've been a lot of help," Bobby tells me. Like I care, as I turn to watch Dean, completely still in his bed, face a little flushed, but he's doing okay.
"Well Dean's always been a handful," I mutter, not sure why they're not leaving.
"Sam, you don't look so good, why don't you get some sleep?" Bobby suggests, gesturing for whoever they are to go with him elsewhere. Stay away from Dean. I haul myself up after them, to close and lock the door. Guess if Bobby wants in he'll have to knock, so I hope I won't have my hands full with anything. Dropping into my own bed, I barely have time to pull up the covers before I'm asleep.
--
Sam's acting awful funny, not much I can do about it just yet. Although can't say as I'm surprised.
"So, Phillip?" when he nods, I ask "you just found him on the side of the road?"
"Yeah, about five minutes drive from here, actually," he says helpfully. Well, his tone is helpful, but I'm not sure I think it's helpful.
"We were lookin' for him all over, where'd he manage to go not on the road?" Damnit Dean, did anyone else see you?
"Probably through the big field, I think he might have just cut across it," Phillip looks at Alana for confirmation, and she nods.
"So, you folks from around here?" I ask, trying to keep it casual. Draw their thoughts away from Dean and Sam. Jesus Sam, way to act funny.
"No, we're a few states over, actually, just passin' through." I nod, figuring this can't get any worse.
"We'll, we just picked Dean up, and we're headin' on home, too, but Sam's right, you two probably should get on your way, the storm's let up, and it'd be a shame if you all got caught in it again."
"You sure he's going to be okay?"
"Trust me, one way or another, these boys always end up okay." We exchange a few more pleasantries before they leave, telling me to thank Dean for his service. Well, he's certainly been a soldier for them for years, his daddy and brother, too. Deserves the thanks. I just don't like the lie. But it's as close to the truth as we can get. Going back to Sam and Dean's room, the door's locked. I'll let 'em alone for now, but tomorrow we're heading out to my place. I've had enough of this, and it'll be nice to have a kitchen to cook food in again. Maybe we can stop by the grocery store –god I sound like a housewife- and try and see if there's anything Dean'll actually eat, or anything Sam wants. Things'll sort themselves out.
--
When I wake up, it's dark in the room. Trying to force myself to breathe, I'm too weak to push myself up. "Smmm." Oh, great, I have no voice. It's dark. I can't see anything, it's not the dark that's bad, it's the not seeing. I couldn't see…there, either, it was just pain. "Smm!" C'mon Dean, buy a vowel. "Sam!"
"Whuh?" I can hear him shifting in the darkness.
"Sam…" I can't get anything else out. Just his name. I'm so pathetic. I wonder where he stashed the M&M's. Why's it dark? Sam, turn the lights on. Please, just turn on the bathroom light, you can half close the door and go back to sleep, okay? I feel the bed dip down, and cry out, panicked.
"Dude, it's me. It's fine," he grips my shoulder. I find his hand with my own, gripping it as best I can.
"Sam," c'mon Dean, talk, "dark." Oh, great. I sound like Oobi. Where's deadly lightning when you need it?
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I totally forgot!" Damn right you did. But he sounds sorry, so he gets to live –this time.
"Dun feel so good," I'm really nauseous.
"Like…what kind of not feel good Dean?" Do I have to answer that?
"Did you drug me?"
"What? No!" Okay, he's not lying. Sam's voice squeaks when he lies, he just sounds annoyed.
"Feel like I took that oxycodone crap." I hear rustling, and go blind when the light in the bathroom flips on, and I hear Sam's muffled swearing. Okay, I take it back, light bad. Light very very bad. Turn it off. Eventually my eyes adjust, and I feel a little better.
"How you doing? Need some water?"
"Yeah, water's good." Don't think I can sit up, though, Sammy. I'm just dead weight man, I'm sorry. Still feel like my body's asleep. Paralyzed almost. Sam comes back over to me, helping me sit up. At least I can keep my own head up, and hold myself up once he's got me. I feel more than see him holding the water bottle up, and I move my hand to it. I can't grab it with only two fingers, so I don't even try, but I can at least let Sam know I'm ready for it. Drinking greedily, the water settles my stomach.
"Dude, slow down a little," Sam jokes, considering we both know if I could hold it myself it'd already be drained. Pushing his hand away, I've had enough.
"I want my hands back," I mutter irritably.
"If I could do anything about it, you know I would, right?" he asks me, turning that quasi-puppy dog–eyes look on me.
"Yeah, I know," I mumble. I shift away from him, trying to roll out of his hold, I guess.
"Y'know, if you want me to help you lie down or whatever, you can just ask."
"I don't need your help!" I'm doing some sort of accent, and I don't really know why, but it makes Sam smile, so I guess it works out. I'm too tired. He lets go of me, and I settle back down on the bed. "You wake me up, you die," I tell him. "Unless there is a very good reason. A reason involving one of three things: pie, booze, or women. Or all three, so I guess that's four." And the combinations are endless. "Basically, if your alarm goes off, I'll kill you."
"No worries," Sam grumbles, getting back into his own bed. "Like hell I'd set my alarm after having to get through today. Or is it yesterday already?"
I'm already too far gone to answer.
When I wake up again, the sun's up, Sam's already showered and is sitting and messing with his laptop. Pushing myself up off the bed, I pull my good leg up closer to my body, leaving the other stretched out. Yawning, I tug the top blanket off the bed and around my shoulders, I want to sit up, I'm just freezing. Settling against the headboard, I just watch Sam, wondering how long it'll take him to notice me.
Is he looking at porn?! Jeez, he's been Mother Goosing around, and now he's finally chilled. Guess things can start looking more like normal. Gotta pee. How long before Sam notices I'm up? Not long enough, probably. All the same, I swing my legs out of bed, pleased that they're doing what I want. God I'm sore, feel like I ran a good six miles or something yesterday. Oww…not to mention I'm all stiff. Damnit, this is not how I wanted to feel this morning. But I can walk. Feet hurt, what the hell? I manage to get to the door before Sam snores softly. He's asleep? That would explain it. Forgot he can do that with his eyes open sometimes. Catching myself on the door frame, I stagger into the bathroom, splashing water on my face. I take care of a few other morning things, grateful to wash my hands and stagger back into bed. Hands ache still, but I'm doing better, I think. Or I'm just compensating better. At least it's my hands I have to overcompensate for, not something else.
Crawling under the covers instead of trying to pull them up, I doze, in that eerie place between waking and sleeping. Several times I feel like I'm literally falling to sleep, only to jerk away before I 'hit' or slip into dreams. I hate that, that sensation you missed a step on the stairs, and then I shoot awake. Sam's still sleeping. Stretching out a little, I'm a little hungry. Then again, when I am ever not hungry? I ate all the time before…yeah. I think I did. Some things are easier than others to remember, on a daily basis. How long've I been back? Three days now? Something like that. Hey, does that mean I get to rise up to heaven now? I think someone's going to come burn me at the stake for blasphemy at some point. Can't hurt as much as hell, though. Looking over at Sam, is he drooling? Man, he's gonna drool on his laptop and fry himself.
"Smm?" Not again. "Sam!"
"Whu!?" he jerks awake, almost knocking the laptop flying, I cringe, waiting for the heavy thud and breaking sounds. Nothing. The arms of the chair caught it. Sam looks like he almost had a heart attack, before he starts wiping drool of his chin. I chuckle weakly.
"Sorry man…" hadn't meant for that to happen.
"What'd you wake me up for?"
"You were drooling all over everything…didn't want you to get it on the laptop. Dude, just go to bed if you're so tired." I'm doing better than he is, and I'm the one who's supposed to be a mess. What's his deal? "Didn't you sleep last night?" he fell asleep before I did, after I woke him up.
"I…I just don't feel like sleeping."
"So why'd you get mad I woke you up?"
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Has anyone ever been nice when you've woken them up?"
"Well the girls love it if you wake them up for more-"
"Not what I meant."
"Sorry. I forgot you had no experience in that arena."
"Jerk."
"Bitch," I mumble, rolling over to go back to sleep. I'm still pretty tired, from just getting up to go to the bathroom, of all things. At least Sam didn't wake up. The less he knows the less he'll worry about me. Then something hits me. "Dude?"
"What Dean?" he sounds a little impatient. Tired.
"I…had a lot of….I didn't sleep too good, did I?" I roll over to see his face, so even if he tries to lie to me, I'll know the truth.
"No, you slept fine." His voice has that squeaky lying pitch it gets. Along with his face, I know it.
"I'm sorry Sam."
"No, it's fine, I slept fine, don't be sorry." I'm just a burden on everyone I love. I'm so sorry Sammy. I'll get better, I will. Then I can take care of you again. I know he's lying to me. It hurts that he would even think he had to.
"Dude, stop okay?"
"Dean, you're the one who…" Who what, Sam? Runs off? Has these ridiculous breakdowns all over the place? I know.
"I know, and I'm sorry."
"Well don't be!"
"Okay!" I look at the door, realizing it's locked. "You locked Bobby out?"
"No, Dean, I just locked the door for the night."
"You didn't yesterday," I mumble, deciding it's not worth it. "You shouldn't lock Bobby out." He's like Dad Sammy; you can't just be an ass to him and hope it works out.
I nap for maybe another few hours, Sam's soft snores wake me up. He's in his bed, sleeping like he should be. Stretching out, I'm careful of the stitches, I've been covered in blood enough lately. Yawning, I wonder if I can stand up long enough to shower. No, I gotta eat something first. Food's still on the bedside table. Hey, extra fork. I wonder if that one I threw it still there? Yes, it is. Hope no one steps on it. I'd rather eat the M&M's than cold Chinese take out. Take out's quieter, won't wake Sam up, no bag to rustle around. It takes a lot longer than I'd like, but I manage to get the rest of the food down.
Sam, wake up so you can open the water bottle for me. Ugh, there's gotta be a way to do this without hands. And without spilling it everywhere trying to get it open, because that just defeats the purpose. Maybe if the old one is still open, I can just refill it from the tap? Well, there's no point in drinking anything now, because Sam's just gonna make me take all those pills. Dude, up. Sleep later.
Well, if that isn't selfish…Okay Dean, you can get this stupid thing open. You can use your palm instead of your hand, anyway, little finger to thumb, and you've got enough grabbing force to pick something up. So…I get the water bottle clamped between my forearm and my ribs, using my palm to turn the cap. It works, for the most part. I do slop some water on myself, but a minimal amount, thankfully. I don't want to take any pills, wonder if Sam'll believe me if I said I did? Of course not. I can't lie to him any better than he lies to me. I just yell louder.
"Dude, how long've you been up?" Sam asks me, opening both eyes and pushing himself up from the bed, and straightening his rumpled clothes.
"Since time began," I tell him with a grin.
"Yeah, right."
"You snore like an old granny."
"I liked the first answer."
"Not my fault you keep asking questions you don't want the answers to." It's a warning, and I see in his face he gets it. Unfortunately, it also means he thinks there's something up that he should be asking questions about. Why do these things always backfire? Winchester luck, I guess.
"You sleep okay?"
"We already discussed this." I reach out and grab the bag of M&M's. I ate the 'healthy' food, so, I figure this is dessert. Doesn't matter what time of the morning it is.
"You're not eating those for breakfast."
"No, I'm not. I already ate breakfast. These are dessert." Crunchy, chocolatey dessert. Did I mention they're mine?
"Don't eat all of those."
"What are you? My mom?" I slowly and deliberately pop another M&M into my mouth, eyebrows raised challenging Sammy to say anything. I'll kick his ass.
"No, Dean I just-" he huffs, then shakes his head. "Can I have some?"
"Dude, I had something healthy first. Besides, candy'll rot your teeth, and I'm supposed to watch out for you."
"Let's set something straight okay?"
"Like you? Sam, it was Brad Pitt, wasn't it? Instead of Angelina. We gotta do something about that…"
"Dean, I'm serious. Please." Oh…it's the puppy eyes. I hate those.
"Yeah, dude, I'm listening."
"You don't need to take care of me, you don't need to watch out for me. Okay? Pay some attention to yourself!" I waggle my hand, and raise my eyebrows. "Dean!" I couldn't resist. Really. I tried. Okay, I didn't, he set himself up for that one. "You're the one who's sick and hurting, okay? I'm doing great, thanks! Except when you keep making yourself worse, then I'm not alright! And Dean, as much as you fake it, I know you're not alright! So stop trying to hide it, and just…" Sam bites his lip for a few seconds. "Just trust me, okay? You're always throwing your life away for me, so, for once, just let it go. Alright? I'm here, I'm okay. I took care of myself for a year, Dean, I did okay in college, too."
"College was different, Sam," I start, before he holds up his hands to cut me off.
"No, Dean, it wasn't!" then he sighs. "You're my brother, and I'd die for you, and I watched you die once, wasn't that enough?" Feeling the rage well up within me again, I take a deep breath, as deep as I can, trying to keep myself calm. C'mon Dean, keep it together. It's Sam.
"And I felt you die in my arms!" I hear my own voice break, and then my face turns red, I know, because I can feel the heat of my cheeks.
"Dean…"
"I don't want your apologies Sam, you didn't stab yourself in the back! I was too slow, Sam, I saw him coming, and I didn't run fast enough, hell! I didn't figure out where you were fast enough, I didn't save you, Sam. I failed you, just like I failed Dad and he died because of me. It's my fault so don't ask me to stand aside Sam. I can't do that. It's my job to take care of your whiny ass. Don't ask me not to do my job Sam, I can't do that. I can't do that for you. I won't."
All my dreams pass before my eyes a curiosity, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
Sam's throat tightened as he kept in his tears. Dean didn't even try, letting the glistening tears run down his cheeks unheeded, because it didn't matter if Sam saw anymore. Dean's walls had been smashed so effectively he was suffocating in the rubble. The dust of it choked him, refusing to relent and let him breathe long enough to try and deal with the destruction around him.
I reach out lightly, touching my fingertips to Dean's cheek, lightly brushing away the tears, trying to begin to understand how he's feeling. I know I can't, not ever.
No one knows what it's like, to feel these feelings like I do, and I blame you
He's the one who went to hell, and he needed me. If anyone failed someone, it was me, and I failed Dean. Dad failed Dean, too. There was so much he could have been. I went to Stanford, I got a chance to realize I wasn't just a hunter; I was a human being, too. He wanted to be a firefighter. Go figure, I mean, all little kids have dreams like that, policemen, ballerinas –not in Dean's case certainly- but a firefighter? I always figured that given a choice, he'd choose hunting.
But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be.
I pull away from Sam's fingers, wishing he'd just leave me alone. He just doesn't get it sometimes. I don't need his pity, or his sympathy. I don't need him to try and understand me. It's not like he can.
No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, no one knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies
My whole life I've been taught to follow Dad's footsteps. Killing things, saving people, the family business, it's taken over my life. I'm sick of this job. I'm sick of this pain, the weight on my shoulders crushing me so I can't breathe, killing me slowly. The nightmares.
Sometimes I find myself shaking in the middle of the night, and then it hits me and I can't even believe this is my life
But I gotta be strong for Sammy. I gotta get my body back in shape, start hunting again. Can't keep blowing up on him, can't keep letting my tears fall. I gotta pull myself together again.
No one bites back as hard on their anger, none of my pain and woe, can show through.
I just don't know how anymore. I don't even know who I am.
I wanna paint my face and pretend that I am someone else, sometimes I get so fed up I don't even wanna look at myself
It's so hard to keep my cool. Keep my temper in check. So hard after that year, everything's too hard. We don't fit together right anymore, our patterns are different. He's so lost, and I can't find him. I'm trying so hard. I don't know how to fix this.
I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start, I know people have problems that're worse than mine, I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time
Help me.
When my fist clenches, crack it open, before I use it and lose my cool, if I swallow anything evil, put your finger down my throat and, if I shiver please give me a blanket, keep me warm, let me wear your coat
I've been doing this on my own so long. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep going anymore, it just hurts too much. Please, let me rest. I've done enough, haven't I? I've given everything I've got and more, when does it end?
I don't feel like I'm strong enough, I am slowly falling apart
Everything hurts. I'm so raw. You can't understand. Don't try and pigeon hole me, you know better. Don't leave me.
I don't feel right when you're gone away, because I'm broken when I'm lonesome
I messed up dude, I messed up bad. And I'd do anything to fix it. But I don't need your pity. I don't want it!
And I hate the way you look at me, I have to say
I'm sorry for all the mistakes I made. I'd do anything to pull up even with you. Do anything to make things better. I'm so sorry. I did everything I could for you, but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry.
I wish I could start over
This weight on my shoulders, it's crushing me, and I'm sorry, but I can't stop it.
I'm not strong enough to deal with it
It hurts. I can't keep the tears in, and I'm sorry. I've tried so hard to be strong for you. To protect you. To be there for you, I've tried so hard to make up for Dad. And I just can't. I'm not good enough. You look at me like I'm some sort of…like I'm someone worth loving.
I'm not angel but please don't think that I can't cry
"I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home."
I haven't ever really found a place that I call home, I never stick around quite long enough to make it, it's just a thought, only a thought
I'm so lost. I don't know what's going on half the time. I can't, I keep messing up. Dad'd never forgive me.
I apologize that once again I'm not enough
I'd do anything for you. I don't get why you can't see that. I'd die for you. I'd do anything for you, I've tried so hard…tried so hard to save you.
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
It's my job to protect you.
'cause I will be your safety
If you could just see that I love you…
Don't leave me
Help me…
I don't have time.
The walls are down a little more each day since you came.
I don't know how to save you.
I will be your safety.
(So, the last bit there, those are songs in italics. There are like five of those all mixed in. So, credit to those artists. And it's supposed to be confusing. For those of you (the few) it starts out clear who's who, and then degenerates into a chaotic mix. If you've read "Beloved" this should read sort of like the "trio" in the middle section.(aka book two). Reviews to continue? seriously.)
