I'll Be Watching You – Chapter 13
Summary: Sam comes face to face with his past, and must deal with his buried feelings over the trauma he suffered eight years ago. Sequel to Every Breath You Take. Takes place directly after Home. Co-written Sendintheclowns and beta'd by Floralia.
Dean entered the bedroom and found Sam curled on his side, eyes watering and nose running. It was a pathetic sight. Not to mention pretty disgusting.
Eyes watering. Sam was obviously in need of a little comforting but Dean still wasn't sure he could bring himself to touch his brother. It was too much like…well it was just too touch feely for him at the moment.
Over the years Dean had plenty of opportunity to watch Sam cry. Tears of rage when their dad wouldn't let Sam do something he wanted and his kid brother was so angry he couldn't even speak. Tears of disappointment when Sammy was ordered to pack up and hit the road before a test, or a play, or a soccer game, or a dance he was heartbroken to miss out on. Tears of grief when Sam mourned the mother he never knew and a girlfriend he wanted to marry, both killed by some demon son-of-a-bitch.
But this time? No, Dean could see on closer inspection that this time Sam wasn't crying. Sam's eyes were at half mast but when Dean knelt down on the floor next to the bed to get a better look at his brother, he could see Sam was miserable, but he wasn't making those gross snorting and snuffling sounds he tended to make when he lost it.
Drawing on a store of reserves he hadn't known was there, Dean touched Sam's shoulder. "Sammy? What's going on?"
Dazed hazel eyes blinked at Dean and a ripple shimmied down Sam's spine. Dean dropped his hand, missing the contact but at the same time relieved not to be touching his brother. "I feel like crap."
Sam's voice was thick with exhaustion but he was coherent. Dean would take what he could get at this point and exhausted and coherent beat delirious and delusional, hands down. "Dude, you look like crap, too."
A strangled laugh clawed its way out of Sam's mouth. "Dude, you have a bedside manner Attila the Hun would envy."
Dean was trying to come up with a clever comeback when Sam groaned and hunkered down farther, drawing his legs up closer to his chest so he was in fetal position. Sweat beaded heavily on Sam's face. "Sammy, talk to me."
His brother didn't answer him and instead panted lightly, eyes squeezed tightly closed, face rucked up in a grimace. "Hurts. Oh, God, it really hurts."
All of Dean's protective instincts screamed to the fore. Missouri had mentioned Sam was going through withdrawal and this was one nasty case of the shakes. Dean regretted not having wrung Heather's neck when he had the opportunity; Sam didn't deserve this. Hell, nobody did.
Sam weakly slammed a fist into the mattress and moaned before cramming that same fist into his mouth.
Unsure if his instincts were right, Dean forged ahead anyway. Whatever he did couldn't hurt Sam much worse than he was already hurting.
Maybe if he pulled Sam out of the pretzel shape he'd contorted himself into, the pain would ease.
Dean put a hand on Sam's hip and rolled him on to his back, flinching as his little brother let out a whimper of distress from the pressure of Dean's hand on Sam's bruised flank. When his little brother tried to roll back on to his side, Dean grabbed Sam's thin wrists and pinned them to the mattress. "Come on, Sammy, breathe through it. You can do it."
A spark of defiant Sam blazed forth as his little brother glared up at him from flat on his back. "Easy…for you…to say."
Sam panted out the words, trying to tug out of Dean's grip.
Pulled off balance Dean fell forward, planting a knee on the bed next to Sam's body, just barely catching himself before he sprawled atop his brother. The brothers were stuck in a compromising position and even though they had been in worse while sparring and training, this one conjured memories of things Dean's mind wanted to forget.
He yanked his hands away from Sam as if burned, unable to control the spasmodic reaction. Sam's contortions and gyrations ended abruptly as he rubbed his cramped stomach, eyes sliding away from Dean's with unease. "I'm okay now. You don't have to stay with me."
The tone was devoid of emotion and that tipped Dean off more than any other response would to just how deeply he'd hurt Sam with his overreaction. It pained him to admit it, but maybe Missouri was right. Maybe it would be better to get this thing out in the open.
Although Dean would rather have a tooth pulled out than have the following conversation. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And as far as Dean could tell, both brothers were desperate.
-0-
Dean lightly wrestling with him was distracting Sam from the intense wave of cramps that had taken up residence in his stomach. And then a curious thing happened.
His older brother tensed up, face shocked, and abruptly pulled away from Sam. Like Dean couldn't bear to touch him.
Sam knew he was damaged but Dean's reaction to him confirmed what he'd suspected – Sam was the scum of the earth and his own brother couldn't tolerate the contact with him.
Hell, it was amazing that Dean even consented to be in the same room as him.
His self esteem was at an all time low, which was really saying something when you considered Sam's teenage years right after Heather kidnapped him. But he couldn't inflict himself on his brother anymore. It wasn't fair. "I'm okay now. You don't have to stay with me."
Dean made a strangled noise deep in his throat but Sam missed his expression, his eyes darting wildly away from his older brother. If Dean didn't leave the room soon, Sam was afraid he'd make a spectacle of himself.
The mattress dipped down and his older brother's voice soothed him. "Scoot over, Sam. There's something I need to tell you."
Sam wriggled farther on to the bed, as far as he could to allow Dean as much space as possible. Maybe if he gave Dean enough space, he wouldn't leave. Who was Sam trying to kid; this was it. This was where Dean would tell him what a loser he was for getting caught up with Heather again, and that he was cutting Sam loose.
Closing his eyes, Sam steeled himself for the words.
"I'm sorry. I'm being…immature and you need to know why."
Eyes snapping open, Sam made eye contact with his brother. He didn't know what Dean was talking about. Dean was fine. Dean was perfect. Even their dad had agreed on that score.
Dean's face was pale and drawn and he had a constipated look about him that told Sam his brother wasn't looking forward to sharing whatever was on him mind. He didn't know what Dean was worried about, after all, Sam was the screw up.
He couldn't handle the disappointment he expected to find in Dean's eyes so Sam shifted his focus to the comforter beneath his hands, worrying at it gently with his fingers.
"When we were at Heather's apartment, you passed out and the psycho bitch said she couldn't help you unless she fed. I let her feed on me and there was a moment when…well, there was a moment when all three of us were, um, touching, um, and something happened."
Sam was having a hard time following Dean's narrative with all of the hemming and hawing but he could easily pick up the disgust in Dean's voice. He still couldn't look at his brother but Dean at least deserved an apology. Sam must have fucked up royally. He could barely get the words out of his parched mouth. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
A strong hand roughly swiped at Sam's worrying fingers and his attention was jerked up. "Would you knock that off? I'm trying to tell you something here and you're not paying attention."
Soundly reprimanded, Sam hesitantly looked at his brother's scowling face. "I'm sor…"
"If you fucking say you're sorry one more time, I swear to God I'm going to belt you one."
Tears flooded Sam's already watering eyes and he willed them to stop. He didn't want to antagonize his brother anymore. He really was a hopeless case. No wonder Dean couldn't stand him.
-0-
The words leapt out of Dean's mouth before he could filter them. "If you fucking say you're sorry one more time, I swear to God I'm going to belt you one."
His little brother looked startled and then weepy as the unnatural sheen of tears flooded bloodshot eyes. Christ, this was harder than Dean had thought it would be.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Dean plunged on. "The link you and Heather had was strong, really fucking strong, and according to that psychic vamp whore, it tapped into some new age pleasure spot and it was like, off to the races. I couldn't control it. At all. I mean, don't take it personally but any old body would have done, it had nothing to do with you. You get what I'm saying?"
Sam looked freaked out. And confused. Hell, Dean was confused, too, and he'd been awake for the experience. The once in a lifetime experience he hoped never to experience again. "Sam, say something. Anything. Do you understand what I told you?"
Looking like he wanted to shake his head yes but unable to pull it off, Sam's head sunk down onto his chest. "No, not really."
Fantastic. Dean had to try to explain it again. This was worse than the whole birds and the bees talk he'd given to a 6-year-old Sam. Come to think of it, Sam was giving him the same look now he'd given back then. Incredulous.
He could do this. Maybe if he pretended he was talking about someone else he could explain what happened better. "See, you were out and Heather needed to power up so I let her feed off of me so she'd be able to break the link between the two of you. Only things didn't go as planned when she touched your forehead because her hand drifted down to that Chakra thingee on your stomach and boom-chicka-boom!"
Heat crept up Dean's neck and he could feel his face flaming as a blush supplanted his normally pale complexion. Sam, always having to take the opposite tack from Dean, grew more sickly looking as the color washed out of his skin.
Sam's voice was so small, Dean had to lean forward to hear what he said. "You mean you were caught in our link?"
Finally. His little brother was getting it. He could tell by the appalled look on his face. But that wasn't the point of this little exercise. "I guess you could say that. There was this sensation. It was extreme. And I was holding you in my arms so Heather could touch you, break the connection, and things kind of just…well, let's just say I was in my happy place and you were caught in the crossfire. That bitch said it was from the link, that you were doing it, but I think it was her fault."
At the mention of Heather, Sam's face closed up. Missouri had warned him not to bring her up but she was a part of the story.
"Anyway, the bruises on your, um, body are from me."
That was it. Dean couldn't, wouldn't, say anything more about the subject.
And Sam looked grateful when Dean stopped talking about it. Their dad had always teased that Sam wore his heart out on his sleeve but in this instance, Sam looked like he'd rather talk about anything else except what happened and what he was feeling.
But the truth was out. And Dean needed a break.
Shifting off the soft surface, Dean moved toward the door. He turned around and found Sam curled up in the middle of the bed, looking small and lost. Quite a feat for someone who was 6'4".
-0-
Sam waffled between stunned and disgusted. No wonder Dean was so freaked out.
Sam thought of himself as being pretty open minded about sexuality and he was having a hard time taking in Dean's confession. And his older brother, well, he wasn't narrow-minded but there was no doubting his identity was wrapped up in his hetero-sexuality.
And the fact that Dean had, well, um…the word incest kept popping into his mind but Sam kept pushing it firmly out. Dean hadn't been control of his own actions. It was all Sam's fault. Him and that damn link.
Thinking about it made Sam's head ache. And his hips throb. At least now he knew where the handprints smashed into his skin in the form of deep bruising had come from.
Ew.
Closing his eyes, Sam snuggled into the soft bedding. He was still chilled and his nose was running like a leaky faucet but for the first time since he'd encountered Heather again, his head was clear.
Dean didn't hate him.
"Sweetie? Are you feeling any better?"
Missouri was checking on him. She had a knack for making him feel better.
"Oh, you are a charmer. Unlike your chucklehead of a brother."
Sam wanted to laugh at her comment about Dean but he was completely lacking in energy at the moment. He also knew he should protest the ease at which the psychic read him but it was true, Missouri made him feel cared for. Just like Dean. Well, the Dean of old who didn't shy away from him.
But maybe with time that would fade.
"Just close your eyes and rest. When you wake up, I'm going to teach you some tricks. You're a psychic, whether or not you like it and that means it's high time you learned how to shield yourself. But don't worry, honey, I won't rush you. And your big brother won't let anything bad happen to you."
Dean. Sam trusted his brother. Maybe things would be okay after all.
TBC
A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading and especially those who have left us reviews! One chapter left to go!