Hello everyone and thanks for coming back. I am totally and completely unsatisfied with this chapter but I just can't look at it anymore, so I hope it isn't quite as bad as I think and that you will find something to enjoy about it!
I can't thank you enough for all of your support for this story. Thanks as always for taking the time to read, I truly appreciate it!
Dean plants his feet on the ground and tries to shimmy himself up the wall using his uninjured arm to climb to a vertical position. He growls under his breath and makes no mistake about the fact that he wants to do it himself as he shrugs off the helping hands of his brother to weasel his way up the wall. Sam lets go of him and waits for him to stand.
Bobby gets another lump in his throat, but this one is different. This one is lodged there because he suddenly feels like this was a very, very bad idea. Dean ain't looking too pretty right now and he isn't sure whether it's because of the fever and physical strain, or the fact that he is so beyond angry and emotionally cooked that his rage and pain is boiling through his body as vigorously as that damn infection is.
Sam tries to look his brother in the eye but the older sibling ain't having it. Sam puts his hands out, not to touch his brother but to try and show him in a placating stance that he ain't no damn threat.
"Dean, just take it easy bro. Do you hear me? We're worried about you man, that's all. Take it slow."
Dean straightens at that and glares into Sam. Bobby can hear the younger man sigh as he realizes that may not have been the best comment to make at this particular moment. Idjit.
"Take it… take it easy! That's rich Sam. I'll have you know I was taking it easy until you and Dr. Phil over there decided to play a little round of squeeze Dean's grapefruit until it explodes! You two numb nuts and your damn games. 'We'll make sure he can't get away and then we'll peel away the onion, slice by slice with a round of psychobabble bullshit until he caves.' I am so beyond pissed off that all I feeling like doing right now is punching you in your damn face. So back the hell up Sam and get the frick out of my personal space, my fist is really starting to itch."
He means it to come out snarly and full of venom but Dean's voice has lost its edge and ferocity. Although Bobby feels a bit skittish about what the hell the older brother is about to reveal, at least the kid ain't gonna be busy trying to tackle him for his damn keys. Yet.
Bobby reaches out to try his hand at deescalating the volatile volcano in front of him, even if only by a fraction. "Dean…."
"Don't fricken touch me!"
Bobby's hand snaps back like it was just plunged into a vat of the burning lava that spews out of this boy, and takes a couple of steps back to assess their next move. Somehow the rules of this game have changed and now it seems to be Dean who has control of the board and all the damn cards. So, note to self. Sure, it may be dangerous to poke and prod at a sleeping bear, but it's beyond all levels of stupidness to poke and prod an injured, sarcastic, stubborn assed, bitter and backed into a corner one. That's plain suicidal. Balls, bad choice of words.
Dean staggers away from the wall to limp slowly and languidly away from the duo, leaving them to think about what the hell they are gonna do next. He has made his point clear. He's gonna talk and they are gonna listen, but he'll make damn sure it's on his own terms.
Sam is fidgeting beside him and as he takes a step towards his brother, the older hunter juts his arm out to stop his forward momentum. Sam looks to him and Bobby whispers out 'Leave him be, he needs some space or he's gonna blow.'
"I think he's way past that Bobby. He's on edge, erratic and not thinking straight."
Dean stops and laughs, short and angry like. "You think? Huh, well kind of forgot the part about it being your fault hey Sammy? But, no worries, I ain't gonna hold a grudge."
Bobby feels Sam stiffen at those cutting words but even he has to admit that Dean is kinda half-assed right on that point. They have driven him to the brink. Yeah, maybe he needed to be pushed a bit, but forcing him to plummet right off a damn cliff was perhaps not thought out as well as it should have been.
Dean continues to travel away from them and towards the fridge where he grabs a couple of beers and plunks them down on the counter. He opens one, downs it in what Bobby figures is, oh, two point five seconds and before he has even finished the last swallow, Dean has the other one open and sucks it dry in another spectacle of record time.
They just stand there, unable to move, unable to think of one god damn thing to say to the man who seems to be working at a fever pitch to get as much alcohol in him as he can manage.
After brewski number three Bobby decides enough of this horse shit and starts to walk towards him, Sam following closely at his heels. He has almost reached him when Dean's low chuckle effectively stops both men in their tracks.
"Huh, you know, I should thank you guys. Really. I mean wow….."
He waves his arm in an exaggerated motion over his head.
"… it is just so damn awesome to have all this shit swirling around in my brain again. I almost forgot how good it feels to relive every craptacular moment of my life. Good thing you guys were here to remind me how I got to this point and where I came from. All that shit, I had it locked up nice and tight but really, why should I? After all, what's a bit of inner torment if it will help you two stop with all the worrying."
Dean's voice starts to crack and Bobby wants nothing more than to rush over, grab hold of him and never let go. He wants to save him from the tidal wave; he wants to be the life preserver that keeps him afloat; he wants to yell at him that he loves the damn idjit! But, he doesn't move because he is pretty sure Dean would turn around and sock him one. And as Bobby is teetering on the edge of irrationality himself, he would probably feel obliged and compelled to return the favour. And, although it may make him feel better and may knock Dean's attitude down a peg or to, it would be like taking about a million steps back. So Bobby stays where he is, frozen to the spot.
Bobby peers at Sam and sees the silent tears stream down his face. If Bobby feels like shit about this then Sam must be under the biggest steaming pile of all. This is his brother; this is his protector, the only family he's got left, and he is spitting out pain the only way he knows how, with unabated sarcasm.
"You know me, always ready to risk life and limb to help my family out. So what I'm trying to say is i'm sorry. Sorry that I've been fighting this, hell, it's gonna be so god damn liberating to say it all out loud. Then I'll be purged right? That's the plan isn't it? The way you two have been preaching your damn sermon, all I have to do it say the words out loud and all the hurt and pain and bullshit will flutter away like some beautiful butterfly into the sunset. Ain't that a fricken pretty picture?"
The voice is colder and out of reach now, and Bobby swallows the fear he has for this kid deep into his gut.
"Yeah, I'm sure we will all feel better about every god damn thing once my guts are oozing out of me and swimming around in you instead."
He opens the fridge, grabs another cold one and gulps it down. Okay, four beers in five minutes. Dean is definitely not fine and Bobby sees him hang onto the counter as if it was his only lifeline to reality. Whatever demons are pounding at his walls they sure as hell ain't doing it nice and gentle like.
This time when the injured hunter's hand heads for the door, it stops in mid stride. A shake of his head and off he goes again.
"I have spent my whole freakin life trying to somehow purify myself of the taint; of the moment when my life was shattered and distorted by the same flames that….that burned our mother into a piece of demon style charcoal. The moment she started…."
The door opens, another beer is uncapped and Dean downs half the bottle in one swig. Dean's frame starts to shake and he needs to put the bottle down as it threatens to slip from his vibrating fingers. Shit. He is lost in thought as he stares out the window and into the light of the day. Such a contrast. The sun streams in to illuminate the trio as every strand of darkness is being plucked from within this young man's core.
"…. to burn I could feel myself be branded, like some damn dirty pig headed towards the slaughterhouse. That blaze..it..it scorched my skin and friggin flambéed my soul. Huh, see Sammy, I can use big words too but I never got the chance. Whatever I wanted to be, whatever dreams I had were snuffed out, transformed into a smoldering ruin to go along with our home. I could no longer be anything but this piece of shit you see right now, my damn role in life was solidified that night."
"Dean, please, you can stop now."
He doesn't say anything but shakes his head slightly. Bobby hears him sniffle and wonders how he is managing to keep it together.
"I was gone. I was changed. I turned from a snot nosed kid into a man right then and there as we all huddled up outside and watched our home turn to ash. No longer someone's son, but someone's soldier. No longer a free spirit, but a guy with one purpose and one mission. Find the demon and kill it.
I was now just a nameless, faceless god damn soldier Sam! A tool and a weapon, nothing more. But hey, it ain't so bad, I've actually done one hell of a job. Maybe this is what I was meant to be. Nothing but a killer. Nothing but a mindless soldier, designed to shut up and take orders. A god damn puppet always at the control and beckon call of someone else."
Bobby hears a groan come from Dean next, followed by another disconcerting giggle.
"I'd like to say that dad was proud of me but the hell if I know, that bastard never talked to me unless I screwed up or he needed back up for one of his stupid hunts. But hell, that doesn't matter, can't blame him for that. He.. I mean we had a damn job to do so to hell with Dean and his own pain, dad's was all that mattered. His world became mine and was filled with the same purpose. Revenge."
He teeters now, his body starts to sway, no doubt inundated with memories forced up to the surface in a relentless torrent of suffering and loss.
"No. Wait, just a minute. That part of dad never saying he was proud? Huh, that's not quite true. He did say it. He tried to cram a lifetime of pride and damn fatherhood into two fricken minutes…right before he…."
Dean's back goes stiff and rigid, Bobby can hear his sharp intake of breath and another sound gurgles up deep within his throat. And, before their eyes, Dean's meltdown truly begins.
TBC... Thanks for stopping by.
TBC... Thanks for stopping by.