A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Thanks to TraSan
Gifts
Chapter Fourteen
You Made...?
It was quiet in the kitchen as Dean gathered up the items he'd need to make dinner. He was tempted to just order pizza, it was later than he'd planned, but he wanted to make something special. A soft sound from the living room caused him to stop and glance over at Sam. His brother was asleep in the chair, his eyes still swollen from the tears earlier. I'm sure my eyes look good. Dean sighed, it had been a long, long day, and since they were expecting Alan anytime, he suspected it was going to be a lot longer. Sam saying he was willing to fight, and keep fighting, didn't mean the pain would stop, didn't mean the depression would end or that Sam would magically be able to walk when he woke from his nap. It didn't mean any of that.
It meant everything.
Dean picked up the knife and looked at the slimy beige bricks sitting on the cutting board. Pain suddenly burned up his leg. "You freaking..." He pulled the kitten off his shirt—it had managed to climb that far—and dropped it back on the floor. Before he could turn back to what he was doing the kitten climbed up again and, using his thigh as a launching pad, leaped onto the counter. It made a beeline for the cutting board, sniffed what was there and looked up at him with an expression of betrayal on its face. "Yeah, I kinda feel the same way," he said as he started cubing the mass.
It had been a rough hunt. After days of fruitless research, Sam was getting frustrated. After someone else had died, someone they had interviewed the day before, the frustration gave way to desperation. When they'd finally tracked down the spirit, Sam had been hurt. It wasn't too serious, but that, on top of the hunt, had left him in a bad place. They'd headed out of town before Sam was really ready to travel physically, but Dean decided the ongoing depression outweighed the risk of moving his brother too soon.
Dean drove almost without a break for nearly twenty hours, putting the Great Plains behind them and heading up into the Rockies. He'd finally stopped in a medium-sized town at a nicer than normal motel. After making sure Sam was settled, he'd gone in search of something to tempt his brother. Sam hadn't been eating much, mostly pushing it around the plate, and that just wouldn't do.
The town didn't have all that much to offer, and Dean was getting ready to turn back to the burger place by the motel. He pulled into a gas station to refill the tank and got out, as soon as he opened the door he smelled something that set his mouth to watering. Glancing around, he couldn't locate the source of the smell, there was nothing on the block but a laundry and car wash. After pumping the gas, he headed in to pay—and discovered the source of the delectable smell. There was a food counter in the gas station, a small woman standing in front a miniature stove, she was wearing a name badge that said Jeanie.
"What can I get you?" she asked with a smile.
"Uh," Dean said, looking up at the hand-printed menu. It was an odd combination of various Asian dishes, Mexican and sandwiches. He stared at it, wondering what Sam would eat. "I want the chimichanga with rice and beans and Sam will have... What're you cooking?"
"Peanut butter-curried tofu with veggies."
"Smells good."
"Thanks, my recipe, it's today's special and comes with rice."
"I'll take an order of that, too."
By the time Dean got back to the motel, he was so hungry he was ready to eat the take-out containers. He opened the door, Sam was on the bed, staring at the TV. The fact the computer wasn't out worried him. He kicked the door closed and carried the food over to his brother.
"Eat it before it gets cold," Dean said before Sam could open his mouth and say he wasn't hungry.
Sam took a bite without speaking. And another, a smile spreading across his face. He reached for the can of soda Dean brought him, took a sip and started back in on the curry. "That was great!" he said, dropping the empty box on the bed.
They went to the gas station-restaurant the next day, Sam stared at the menu, then requested the peanut butter tofu. They stayed in town for a week, Sam getting better every day—and every day they'd gone to get food, Dean working his way down the menu, Sam only eating the tofu.
"You should try something else," Dean finally said on day five.
"I like this, Dean, I'd take a year's supply with us if I could," Sam said with a smile.
In preparation for Sam's homecoming, Dean had tracked down the phone number of the gas-station, hoping he could convince Jeanie to give him the recipe. After he'd explained what had happened, she'd not only given him that recipe, but several others as well. He'd thanked her and promised they would stop by the next time they passed through town.
A paw on his hand pulled his attention back to what he was doing. He put the kitten on the floor and gave it a can of cat food, then turned back to the food. Once the vegetables were chopped, he put the skillet on the stove. Jeanie told him the trick to tofu was to make sure the oil was hot. While the pan was heating, he grabbed the curry powder, peanut butter and sauces he would need for the dish. When he turned back to the stove the oil was hot—in fact it was smoking. He quickly lowered the heat on the burner and dropped the tofu in, jumping back as the hot oil splattered. It was easier than he'd thought it would be, the dish coming together quickly once the tofu was cooked.
"Dean?"
"Hey, Sam," Dean said, walking into the living room. "You hungry?"
"Uh, not..." Sam paused. "What smells good?"
"The freaking monster's food, what do you think?" Dean grinned.
"What is it?"
"Surprise."
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. "Another surprise, Dean?"
"Yep." Dean helped his brother into the kitchen. As soon as Sam was seated, the kitten hopped on the table. "I thought you didn't like it."
"Like what?" Sam asked.
"Dinner, he tried it earlier." Dean dished up the food and set the plate in front of Sam.
"What is this?"
"Peanut butter curried tofu with veggies and rice," Dean said, smiling.
"You made..." Sam broke off, tears bright in his eyes. "Tofu?"
"Yep."
"You made tofu?"
"You said that." Dean served some for himself and sat down at the table. Fim gave him an evil look, so he got up and put a small spoonful of the tofu on a saucer and put it in front of the cat.
"Tofu?"
"Yep. Tofu."
"Really?"
"No, it's actually wildebeest, I hunted it down myself."
"It's tofu!" Sam said, taking a bite.
"I said that." Dean took a forkful and sniffed. Doesn't smell all that bad. He took a cautious taste. "Not bad."
"You didn't try it?" Sam asked, the tears still in his eyes.
"Are you kidding, Sammy? It's tofu."
"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "It's good tofu, too."
"Did you know it comes in a bunch of different kinds?"
"What does?"
"Tofu, there's firm, extra firm, silken, soft."
"Were you confused?" Sam was laughing at him.
"Oh hell yeah. Who'd thunk anyone would nned that much tofu." Dean looked at Sam, trying to keep a smile on his face. Even though his brother had the bowl propped on his left hand and was scooping food into his mouth, he was obviously struggling, his hand shaking badly by the third bite. Dean wondered what to do, he pushed his chair out to get up to help, when a look from Sam stopped him. He covered the action by grabbing Fim's now empty saucer and putting two more pieces of tofu on it. "What?" Dean said in answer to Sam's smile. "He likes it."
They'd finished dinner and Sam was back in his chair when someone knocked on the door. "It's probably Alan. I might have forgotten to call him." Sam tensed, Dean gave his arm a pat before answering the door. "Come in."
"Thanks," the doctor said.
"Would you like something to eat? I made tofu."
"You made...? No, I'm not hungry," Alan said, walking into the living room. "I thought you two were coming back."
"No," Sam whispered.
"I told you, Dean." Alan turned on him.
"No," Sam repeated.
"No," Dean said firmly, standing beside Sam's chair. "He stays home."
"Dean," the doctor growled, "this isn't open for discussion."
"I can't," Sam said desperately, his hand fisting in the hem of Dean's shirt.
"You're right, it's not. Sam stays home."
"No." Alan's frown deepened.
"Dean, please." Sam was trembling. Dean gently detached brother's hand from his shirt and patted Sam's chest. "Dean..."
"Do you need a pill?"
"Yeah." Sam took a deep breath. "Can I lay down first?"
"Sure. Can you give me a minute, Alan?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean helped Sam up and into the bedroom. He helped Sam into bed, pulling the blankets over him before opening the locked medicine drawer. Since Sam knew it was there, Dean figured he didn't need to hide it anymore. He shook two pain pills into his hand and carried them back to his brother. "Is this enough?"
"Yeah, thanks." Sam took the pills and picked up the remote for the TV.
"Do you need anything else?"
"I won't go back, Dean."
"I know, Sammy," Dean said gently. "Stupid freaking monster." The kitten had apparently decided the fastest way to Sam's bed was up Dean. "Why does it think I'm a ladder?" Dean grumbled. He waited until Fim was purring happily on Sam's chest before heading back to face Alan.
The doctor was pacing, his angry steps taking him from the living room to the kitchen in four strides. When he noticed Dean, he stopped. "He needs to go back."
"No," Dean said, walking into the kitchen, hoping Sam wouldn't hear the conversation.
"Dean..."
"What did you find out?"
"The infection is getting worse. It looked..." Alan swallowed and looked away.
"I'm sorry about Carrie, Alan."
"Yeah." He took a deep breath. "It looks like the infection just exploded over the last few days." Alan met Dean's eyes. "Which is why Sam needs to go back, he's going to need care."
"Bring whatever he needs here."
"As the infection gets worse, Dean, he's going to need..."
"Whatever it is, I can handle it."
"When he drops into a coma?" Alan snapped.
"If that happens, if, we'll deal with that then." It's not happening, not now, not when Sam has come so far.
"Dean..."
"No, Alan, Sam asked me to help him die tonight," Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady. He could see the effect of his words, Alan opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it closed. "He changed his mind, but going back... I'm not going to do that to him. He can be home, go to work with me and research. And if there is an answer Sam'll find it."
"I don't know."
"He'll figure it out!" Dean was surprised at the vehemence in his voice. "And he stays here."
Alan looked at him for a long time, then took a deep breath. "Okay, but Dean, if there is an answer, he needs to find it fast."
Oh god. "What do you mean?"
"The infection..."
"How long?" Dean snapped. The doctor was silent. "Alan? How long?"
"A week, maybe ten days."
No. Won't happen.
Oh god, Sammy.
XXX
Quiet music woke Sam. He lay still until he heard Dean groan and get out of bed, once his brother was gone, Sam opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He'd heard some of the conversation the night before. It was Dean's "Sam'll figure it out" that had caught his attention, before that he'd been focused on the TV, hoping to drown out whatever the doctor said. Sam knew the infection was getting worse, he didn't need to hear how much worse, or how fast it would consume him. Knowing that would take away some of his resolve to keep going. He'd promised Dean, so he had to try. Mostly he just wanted it all to end—despite the promise to fight.
His talk with Nate had helped, maybe more than he was letting himself believe. Sam had been worried about Dean, and had convinced himself that his brother would be happier if the burden Sam was putting on him was gone. Finding out that Dean had willingly done it helped remove some of the crushing guilt that just added to everything else. It didn't take away the pain of the Impala, though. Sam never realized how much he loved the car, it was—always had been—home to him. Besides Dean, the big black car was the one constant in his life. He knew Dean loved the car more than was probably healthy, and the knowledge his brother sold it for him was almost more than Sam could bear.
The sound of the coffee grinder brought Fim put from under the blankets. The kitten stretched, laying one paw on Sam's face before bounding off the bed. Sam chuckled, watching it tear out of the room. A moment later he heard a shout of surprise and pain from his brother.
Pain was creeping up his back, he sighed, he'd need a pain pill in a moment. He hated the things, most days passed in a half-fog, whether he wanted them to or not. While he was in the hospital, he welcomed that time "away" but since he'd come home, he wanted more time out of the fog—and knew he wasn't going to get it. That just added to the depression.
Still he'd promised to fight, and he meant to stick with that. Especially after talking with Dean when the doctor left last night. Dean refused to talk about what Alan had said, instead talking TV, movies, anything but Sam's health, but there had been a desperation in his brother Sam hadn't noticed before. Maybe it had been there all along? I was just too wrapped up to notice. It was that desperation, the fear in Dean's eyes that strengthened Sam's resolve to keep going. He didn't really want to, he meant it when he'd asked Dean to help him die. He wasn't fighting for himself, he was fighting because of Dean. He could do that much at least, his brother had given him so much, he could do this. That way when... At least Dean will know...
"Sam?" Dean stood in the door.
"Hey."
"I told Nate I'd be in today for while," Dean said, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed and handing him a cup of coffee and a pill. Sam took them, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "Alan is bringing new meds over later, so we can skip the IV this morning."
"Can I take a shower before we go?"
"It's why I set the alarm early." Dean smiled.
"Thanks."
"And if we get in early, there might be some breakfast left. Nancy makes homemade donuts." Dean put his coffee on the stand. "You ready?"
"Yeah."
An hour later, Dean pulled up in front of Nate's shop. The door opened and Nate came out, a broad smile on his face. Dean popped the trunk and Nate pulled the wheelchair out. He waited while Dean walked around the car and opened Sam's door, then held the chair steady while Dean helped him sit down.
"It's good to see you," Nate said as they headed into the shop. "There's quite a mess in there," he chuckled. "Jessie has been swearing under his breath since yesterday."
"What's going on?" Dean asked.
"We have two cars in the bays and one waiting. One of them is a complete rebuild, customer wants it done next week, said he has a rally."
"Rally?"
"Yeah," Nate grinned. "It's a Corvair. I thought you might like a crack at it."
"Oh yeah," Dean said, smiling. "Do you want to sit in the shop or in your office, Sammy?"
"The shop, for awhile?" Sam said. He was touched by the office and looked forward to spending time in there, he just wasn't ready to be alone.
"Do want your laptop?" Dean asked as he helped Sam get settled in the large chair in the shop.
"Dean? What's wrong?" Something about the tone in Dean's voice alerted Sam.
"Nothing, Sammy, I just thought you might want to surf a little."
"Dean?" Sam grabbed his brother's arm as Dean tried to move away. "What did Alan say last night?" It was unfair, asking it right then with Nate standing there waiting for an answer as well.
"He said..." Dean looked away, took a deep breath and turned back. "He said the infection is getting worse."
"I know," Sam offered. "You knew that, too."
"Much worse," Dean grated out.
"Yeah," Sam squeezed Dean's arm and let his hand drop, "I know that, too." He took a breath, the pain was already coming back. I promised. "Can I surf in here?"
"Nate has wireless, and you're all set up on the network," Dean said, relief lighting his face. "I made a desk, too."
"A desk?" Sam asked, wondering how he'd manage to sit at a desk as Dean disappeared into the back. He was back a moment later with a board that he set over the chair arms. "Thanks."
"Will that work?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Dean looked so happy Sam couldn't help smiling. His brother waited until Sam had powered on the laptop before starting work on the car.
He watched Dean over the screen while the computer booted up. Sam did have an idea of where to start on his research, the red smoke seemed familiar and he remembered reading a blog on a paranormal site. It was his first stop on the trail. The blogger recorded events very similar to the ones there including the random acts of violence, he mentioned an exorcism with the red smoke. To his disappointment there was nothing about an infection. The blogger mentioned a reference in a book from the nineteenth century, so Sam chased after that lead and before long he was lost in research.
"Sammy?" Dean was shaking him gently.
"What?" Sam opened his eyes.
"You were having a nightmare."
"Oh, how long was I asleep?"
"About an hour," Dean said, frowning at him. "Do you need a pain pill?"
"Yeah, I do, then can you get the stuff I sent to the printer?"
"Yeah." Dean pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket, handed one to Sam and got him a cup of water from the water cooler in the corner. Once Sam had taken the pills, Dean walked into the office to their left and came back with a stack of papers. "You printing an encyclopedia?"
"Sort of," Sam took the papers and leafed through them. As he did, his certainty grew. I think this is it. He went through several more pages.
"Sam?" Dean said quietly. Sam was focused on the Latin in front of him. "Sammy?"
"Yeah?" He looked up.
"What?"
"I found it," Sam said, unsure where to go from there.
"Found...?" Dean paled. "The infection?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"And?" Hope and fear warred on Dean's face.
"I think I found an answer, too."
To Be Continued