There's a Way Through to the Other Side In The End
Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.
Warning: some violence as the story progresses
Spoilers - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.
Thanks to all who have stuck with the story so far - only three more chapters to go after this one.
Chapter 12 – Two steps forward, one step back
Sam's fairly happy right now, all things taken into consideration. Dean's chest wound is still healing. Bobby says there's no sign of Dad. Dean is staying awake for longer and seems to be more coherent when they talk…most of the time anyway. Sam can still see the fear in his eyes when he leaves the room, but Dean's got it under more control. He isn't freaking out and that alone is a big improvement. When he does fall asleep, he is still having nightmares, but he's made no more death-defying leaps from the bed.
The other good thing is he is trying to talk about it, seems to want to talk, unheard of in the usual Dean Winchester code of behaviour. He's finding it hard to explain, and Sam can understand that, after all he's not used to talking about how he's feeling and he's confused. He seems to be struggling with even some of the basic conversations with the nurses. Sam can't work that out, Dean's always been confident to the point of being downright obnoxious around women, but right now he's struggling to string a sentence together in front of them, straightforward sentences about what hurts and whether he needs anything.
Sam wants him to wake up calm this time, so that they can talk without anyone else around and without Dean having to pull himself back together first. He's hoping that if Dean is calm and there's no-one else around maybe some of the things Dean wants to tell him will be easier. Certainly, some of the questions he wants to ask will certainly be easier to deal with without witnesses.
He runs his hand through Dean's hair, wondering at how familiar that gesture has become over the last few days and how he wouldn't dream of doing it in 'real life', because there's no way this is 'real life'. This can't be real. He is watching as Dean's eyes open slowly, relieved. "Sam?" His throat sounds hoarse again, so Sam reaches for the water to hold it out for him, helping him sit up a bit to make it easier.
"No nightmare – that's good right?" Sam says to him, when he's finished with the water.
"Not so bad, I knew, I knew it wasn't real." So not as good as Sam had hoped ,but an improvement. At least this time, Dean was able to tell it was just a nightmare.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Sam." Sam just waits quietly as if to say 'no rush, no pressure, take your time,' he watches Dean's face. "You were thinking, Sam."
"What?"
"Before, what were you thinking about?"
"You. I was thinking about what I could do to help you get better. What do you want me to do?"
"Sam, do you want to go?"
"No." Sam says it calmly, no fuss. He means it, whatever has happened, whatever is going to happen, one thing he is sure of, he doesn't want to leave Dean alone.
"What if… what if I'm not right? Sam, I can hear things, even when I'm awake, I can hear things. They're not here. Sometimes I know that. Sometimes I find it hard to know which ones are here and which ones aren't. Sometimes they're just so loud, I can't hear anything else, even you."
"I still won't want to go."
"Maybe it means I'm…"
"Whatever it means, Dean, we'll find a way. But I don't think it does mean anything like that. I think it's… just everything that's happened. Tell me about it. What do you hear?"
"You'll think I'm…" he gestures at his head, "Voices. I can hear voices." His face shows defeat, Sam rests a hand on his arm, soothing.
"I still think you'll be okay. What are they saying?"
"Just stuff. Stupid really. I should be able to tell if it's true or not, right?"
"Maybe." Sam knows that it isn't going to be that easy for him, knows that years of Dad's put downs have left Dean expecting the worst so when the voices criticise and complain, it won't be a surprise, it's what he expects to hear. "Tell me more."
"Dad's not here, right?" Sam nods in agreement. Dean frowns, "I can hear him like he is though. When he left… he isn't dead, you didn't say he was dead, when we crashed…"
"No, Dean, he isn't dead but he isn't here either. He's gone."
"He was pissed with me, when he left?"
"He was pissed with me when he left. So what's new? He spends his life either pissed or pissed off."
"I let him down."
"Only 'cos he's a son of a bitch who doesn't recognise a good son when one's standing in front of him. Is that what he's saying in there?" Sam points at Dean's head.
"Sort of."
Sam smirks, then says conspiratorially, "If I were you, I'd ignore him. He always did talk a load of crap, some things never do change." Dean thinks for a moment, then smiles back at his brother. Sam relieved that if only for a moment, Dean has accepted that Dad is not perfect and that they can be brothers and they can joke about it. He presses on, "So anyone else knocking around in that pretty little head of yours?"
"Yeah."
"Anyone I know?"
"The Demon."
"Tell me you're not listening to the crap that thing comes out with," his voice is softly chiding. He knows Dean has been listening to it, falling into the trap that's been laid for him, but he knows for Dean's sake, he's got to make like Dean is still strong enough to resist.
"The things it says, they sound so real, so…" he struggles with how to explain, "like Dad."
"Dean, that night in the cabin, when the Demon said that you needed us more than we needed you, it's not true. Well, I can't speak for Dad, wouldn't want to, but I can speak for me, I need you, I always have. Even when I went away, I wanted you there; I just wanted to make you proud of me so I stuck it out. I have always needed you, relied on you and not just because you are a kick-ass hunter but as a brother, my brother. With Mom gone, you did more for me than anyone else ever has. There is nothing more I could have asked for from you."
"Clothes that fit, food that wasn't burnt, friends, one school, a home…"
"No, Dean. Those were never yours to have to provide but you did. You made sure that I had clothes, clean clothes, that I had meals, not just packets of chips or diner food. You were my friend, when we didn't have any others and better than any other friend could have been, even when you were being a pain in the ass. You made sure that wherever we were was home. Home isn't just a place, a building. Home is about feeling secure, loved, protected – you made sure I had that.
"Dad…"
"No Dean, he didn't."
Dean's hands are twisting in the sheets again, so Sam rests his hand over the nearest of Dean's stilling its motion.
"You did good, Dean." There's a knock at the door, Sam leans back in his seat and calls "Come in," giving Dean a grin, hoping he will relax. "We'll be fine," he says quietly as the door opens.
Dean's eyes are on the door, anxiously, and Sam wonders who he thinks it might be. He sees the momentary glimpse of relief before they show nothing again as Bobby enters. "Alright boys? How are we doing? I've just been talking to some of those lovely nurses, mighty fine women they are too. So I was wondering if you two fancied some fresh air. Nurse Pauline, a wonderful woman, if I might say so, says if you feel up to it, Sport, we could grab a chair and take a walk outside in the gardens. I took the liberty of grabbing you some clothes from the motel in case you said yes."
Sam can hear the surprise in Bobby's voice as he recognises the look in Dean's eyes as fear. Sam's sorry for Dean, that right now, he can't hide anything; it's taking so much just to hold it together at all that everything is exposed in a way that no-one who knows Dean is used to. "I think that sounds like a great idea. The three of us, a few minutes away from this room, we won't need to be gone long, we could maybe grab a soda while we're out." Dean nods acceptance, and Sam knows how much effort that has taken.
"Right, there are your clothes, I shall go talk to that lovely lady about that wheelchair," he says, before backing out of the room.
"It'll be okay, Dean."
"I know."
"So you're alright then?"
"I just… Sam, I don't know what's the matter with me. I don't know why I can't just do things without… without feeling this way?"
Sam helps him get the clothes on. He moves slowly, stiffly, guarding his injuries awkwardly. "Dean, it's alright because even though you're feeling like that, you've still agreed to do it and I'll be there with you. I won't let anything hurt you."
"I know."
They are ready and waiting when Bobby and Nurse Honey return. "You've managed without me," she says. They've only managed because Dean agreed to stay in the hospital gown so long as he had on proper trousers, which meant they didn't have to fight with the IV lines or worry about catching his chest too much. "Let me sort this for you," she continues as she moves to sort out the IV bags and attaches them to the chair, before reaching to help Dean down from the bed to the chair.
"No, sorry," he says and reaches for Sam's shoulder to brace himself as he moves down himself. "Too heavy for you." He offers to her by way of explanation.
She accepts it without rebuke, instead fake whispering, "It's about time your little brother made himself useful after all these years, isn't it?"
Sam smiles and laughs, "Oh he ain't heavy, he's my brother."
Bobby and Nurse Honey both groan but Sam watches as Dean misses the exchange entirely in his effort to steel himself to face the world outside the room.
"Here, take this, just in case," she tucks a blanket over the back of the chair behind Dean, "just in case, it gets cool out. Now I need you to be back in…" she checks her watch, "no more than 45 minutes because you're due your next set of meds, okay Dean?"
"No more than 45 minutes," he repeats back to her with a nod. Sam wonders if maybe that was a good thing. Dean was doing his best to face up to this, despite his concerns, and now he knew there was a finite amount of time it could last. They set off and Sam hears him say again quietly, "no more than 45 minutes."
He would admit that it was good to be outside, to see the sky, breathe clean air without the disinfectant tang of the hospital and now he couldn't think why he'd been so worried about coming out when Bobby had suggested it. It didn't make sense. He'd never been one for staying still, always on the go, seeking some new thrill or challenge; yet since he'd come round, anything that didn't involve just lying still in his room, with Sam in sight, seemed to fill him with an irrational fear. He couldn't explain it when Sam asked because he didn't understand it himself but he would admit that this was good, sitting here in the sun, listening to Sam and Bobby talk. He wasn't really joining in more than an odd comment or reply to something they asked, but he was listening and they seemed okay with that too. He actually felt almost relaxed.
The three of them were sitting, eyes closed, soaking up the last of the year's warmth from the sun. Sam had insisted that Dean throw the blanket over him as it wasn't as warm as inside. Also apparently he'd always wanted to know what it would be like to mother hen someone who couldn't get away. Dean didn't object, much as he was enjoying the sun, he had been feeling quite cold. In fact he couldn't really remember the last time he'd not felt cold inside. It was before the cabin anyway, of that much he was sure.
He hears the hitch in Sam's voice that means something is wrong. His eyes shoot open as he looks round trying to see the threat. When he can't see anything, he brings his eyes back to settle on Bobby and Sam, who has calmed down again. "So is that enough fresh air for you, bro? Ready to go back in to that lovely nurse you've got waiting?" He nods his agreement, and looks round again as Sam pushes him back into the hospital. He notices that Sam heads for the nearest door and not back the way they had come but he still can't see what has clearly bothered both of his companions.
Once they were inside, he feels the change as Sam slows down the rate at which they are covering the ground. He feels his heart slow down, Sam's concern having transferred itself to his easily knocked sense of well-being. He wonders what it says about his skills as a hunter that he couldn't find anything outside that could be deemed a threat but he daren't ask, not sure he can deal with the answer,
"So, I'm going to leave you two for now," says Bobby. "I'll come by later. What do you reckon Dean, to you and I sitting and chewing the fat for a while and letting Sammy boy go off and eat some proper food before he wastes away to nothing. Sure that boy must have hollow legs." His tone is light, encouraging Dean to agree as if the question is not out of the ordinary.
Dean swallows and grips the arm of the chair, knowing. He answers, "Yeah, sounds good. You bring the booze and I'll supply the women." He figures it almost sounds like he means it. Sam squeezes his shoulder and he's not sure if that helps or makes it worse.
"See you later boys." Bobby vanishes away down the corridor while Sam and Dean wait for the elevator.
They are the only people in the elevator when it finally arrives. The cold feeling has settled further down over Dean, making him shiver every now and then. "You know, if you don't feel like it later, I'll stay. I don't have to go. I'll get Bobby to bring something with him."
"It's okay, Sam. It'll be okay. Bobby said he'd stay while you went and let's be honest, I've got to get used to it. I can't carry on like this."
"Yeah, but you don't have to do it all at once. We can do it bit by bit, Dean."
"Sam, we can't. This is no way to be. It's no way for you to have to live waiting for me to flip at the drop of a hat. I've got to get a grip."
"Ssh, Dean it'll be fine. The offer stands, see how you feel later. Nearly back now, I wonder what that Nurse has lined up for you now."
"God only knows." Sam is relieved to hear just that small amount of snark. That is typical of Dean.
Bobby leaves the boys. He and Sam both know what they've seen and they both know it's bad news. He isn't a fool and he doesn't think they've hidden from Dean that there is a problem. He saw the boy's eyes change, he was looking for the threat – he just didn't know what particular threat to look for. Bobby knows they'll be lucky if they can get Sam out of the room at all without Dean being asleep, but the fact that Dean is trying to play along for now is a step forward. He wonders how Sam is managing to hold it together at all, seeing his brother like this. Bobby is shocked by the change in Dean, the strength that was always so much a part of him has gone and it must have taken a hell of a lot to shatter it so completely.
For now though, his focus is on minimising the fallout of the latest problem. Neither of the boys needs this on top of everything else, so if he can he wants to sort it out without involving them at all. First stop is his car. He needs to get something lethal from the trunk. If they were somewhere less public, he'd go for lethal and painful, but he can't afford to mess around so quick and lethal seems to be the order of the day. Then he'll head to the parking lot of the nearest motel, it's as good a place as any to start and between there and the diner, it probably won't take long to find what he's looking for. This town isn't that big.
Nurse Honey is leaving, she's given Dean the latest set of meds, and taken his temperature, checked his stats. He's back in bed now with an extra blanket that she insisted he have. He doesn't know how to explain that he's cold inside, not out. The blankets don't make much difference, so instead he just goes along with what he's told. He's tired again anyway, but he wants to try and stay awake. If he can just get Sam's attention away from the window, maybe he'll talk and keep him awake.
"So, Sam."
"Yeah. You any warmer yet?"
"I'm fine."
"That wasn't the question."
"Look." He knows he sounds irritable, but right now, he can cope with irritable. It's better than frightened and it's better than detached. Right now, he can work with irritable. He can work with it, but he feels guilty because Sam doesn't deserve irritable because he's making it sound like its Sam's fault. "Blankets aren't going to do anything, I'm not cold."
He's losing it, frightened is coming back, along with I. The need for Sam to be here and be solid, to let him lean on him. Dean realises how lucky he is, when Sam sits down on the bed next to him and rests his hand next to Dean's, not touching but near enough that Dean can sense it there, without looking at it. "So… not cold then…," he says after another tremor racks his brother's body.
"Not like you think" says Dean. Sam's face is expectant. "I'm not cold outside, I'm cold inside." Sam nods, it makes sense. He knows the feeling; he felt that way after Jess died.
"I know what that's like. It'll pass, it just takes time."
"So… outside… what did you see?"
Sam had hoped that Dean hadn't known that anything was the matter. He really didn't need this conversation right now, wanted the nurse to come in and check on Dean again. Anything, so he doesn't need to answer the question.
"It was probably nothing."
"Probably? But you're worrying anyway, so what is it, that it probably isn't?"
"Dad."
Author's Note: So is John back for good or ill?