Hello out there! Thanks for stopping by to check out the latest chapter, I appreciate it. I hope you find some enjoyment in the next installment of this tale. And hey, I would like to send a special shout out to gr8read, for all of their great comments during the life of this story, it makes it all worth while! Thanks to all who take the time to read. :)
Samuel is over to his eldest grandson's side in a fraction of a second. "Dean?" No response. God, he looks like he's dead. Samuel leans in close, feels for a pulse and listens for an exhale of breath. When he finds that his grandson is indeed still among the living, he sighs. Samuel probes the tender flesh at Dean's side and flinches at the heat that radiates off the skin surrounding the knife wound. Hell, his entire body is heating up but for now he just needs to concentrate his efforts on the puncture. He applies pressure to the gash in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood but feels an alarm bell go off in his own head when Dean makes no movement at all. None.
"Dean?" No luck. It seems Dean has left the building, he is still out cold. Although the lack of reaction is a concern, at this point it is probably for the best, considering Samuel can't seem to make heads or tails out of the scene he just witnessed. God, his grandson must really be out of it. The pure panic and overwhelming need to escape that oozed from Dean was so very disturbing to watch. The questions seem to tumble endlessly through Samuel's brain. What exactly was it that he was trying so desperately to escape from? Sam? It doesn't make one lick of sense. What was going through Dean's head? Why in the world would he be scared of his own brother?
Speaking of which, where the hell is he? This whole situation is getting old. Fast. Samuel can feel his anger start to rise up and threaten to ignite his blood into a fast rolling boil. He is desperate to find some answers to the perplexing and starting to piss him off loop he seems to be stuck in. He spins his head around. "Sam! Get your ass over here!" He watches his grandson make his way over, at what to Samuel seems to be a far too leisurely pace. When he arrives, the younger man squats on his haunches and looks to his grandfather. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Samuel thinks he sees a whisper of shock pass over the other man's face. Then it is gone, replaced by the hardened look that seems to be a permanent fixture these days.
"Look Samuel, you are the one who told me to stop. And it was the correct thing to do. It was quite obvious to you and then to me that Dean didn't want to have me anywhere in his general vicinity. I seemed to make things worse so I listened to you and backed off. What is it exactly that you had expected me to do? Hmm? You saw him." The older man looks into the eyes of Sam and can't make out what he sees there. Anger? Frustration? Indifference? "He was terrified of me! You saw it! Just how was I supposed to come near him when he was doing everything and anything, including crawling on the god damned floor, just to get away from me! He was scared to death! So tell me, what would you of had me do?"
Whoa. Perhaps Samuel had approached this the wrong way. Sam looks pissed off. Maybe he is right to feel that way. After all, Dean was absolutely petrified when he noticed his brother making his way towards him. Samuel feels a twinge of guilt as he realizes that Sam now finds himself facing an interrogation by his own grandfather. But, still, that doesn't explain all the strangeness away. Why Sam didn't seem at all interested in Dean's welfare is a question that bounces around in Samuel's head. He should have came over to check on him the moment the last remnants of that stupid cure had left his body. Samuel is determined. He will get to the bottom of it, he will find out the truth. Either from Sam or from Dean. One of his grandson's is going to fess up and do some explaining, but he knows now is not the time. He will let it go, he will cede Sam's point for the time being. "Okay, okay, you're right. Sorry Sam but, I... I just don't get it. Do you have any idea why he reacted like that? To you of all people?" He looks to Sam and hopes that maybe Dean's brother will give him a bread crumb, some little insignificant clue as to what is behind all of this.
"No. Well..." Samuel can almost see the gears start up as Sam's mind churns over recent events. "Well maybe it's because... God Samuel... I stabbed him. My own brother. But.. I didn't know what else to do. I.. I really thought... I thought he was going to kill me." Sam looks to Dean's form, bows his head and covers his face in his hands. Samuel reaches out a hand, places it onto Sam's shoulder and squeezes in a subtle attempt at comfort. He can't imagine what it must have been like, what a horrible decision, a horrible act that Sam had to carry out against his own flesh and blood. He feels for the grandson he sees before him. Sam looks up to him then and Samuel feels a sense of relief when he can see the signs. The emotions. The eyes that face him brim with fresh tears. Of course Sam cares, why would he think any different? He wonders at his own stupidity, shocked at how he had just treated Sam, when it is painfully obvious that Sam has his own pain to deal with.
"It's okay Sam, listen, I know you would never intentionally hurt Dean. And lord knows he has not been himself. From what I know of the two of you there is no one else in the world who cares about each other like you and Dean do. I am sure you could not have avoided it, that it was the only option open to you at the time, so let's just forget it for now and get him off the floor okay? He is in bad shape. I am sure he will be able to see things more clearly and will be back to himself once he gets looked after and has a chance to get his strength back."
He looks at Sam and the older man can not suppress the shiver. He feels it start from the center of him, from the very depths of his body, and it rises up and moves outward into every part of him. The shiver cascades throughout him, caused by the eerie, no, make that the ultra creepy smile he watches form on his grandson's face. The smile, it just feels wrong, out of place, staged. Samuel is getting a very bad vibe from it. "Sounds good Samuel, we need to take care of him. Together. I just.. I want my brother back you know?"
Samuel feels like he is on some kind of freakish yo-yo. How can he get such a weird, creepazoid type of vibe off Sam one minute and the next be wooed by his gentle and caring nature? He begins to wonder if he is also starting to feel the effects of fatigue and stress himself. It's settled. The sooner the two men get Dean looked after the sooner all three of them can relax. Samuel can't remember the last time he slept and he can feel the pull of exhaustion eat away at him. "I know Sam, I know. It's okay. Alright, let's get him up." With that the two men carefully lift Dean's limp and unresponsive body from the ground to the mattress.
As he turns on the lamp beside the bed, Samuel finally has the chance to take a good look at the oldest of the brothers. He does not like what he sees. Dean looks like death warmed over. Pale. Bloody. A layer of sweat sticks his hair to his face and his clothes to his body. It is his face however that ultimately draws Samuel's attention. Dean's face, it is etched into a frown that his grandson can not seem to break out of, even in his current unconscious state. His brows are furrowed like he is stuck in limbo, trying to figure out a puzzle, a question, one that he can not seem to solve. Samuel's mind starts up again. What is it Dean? What is wrong? What is going on inside your head? Samuel's determination is back and he strengthens his resolve. Come hell or high water. He will find out the answers. All of them.
TBC...
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