Camp Chitaqua
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.
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Chapter 26: One on One
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He almost made it, his gun is in his holster, his gear is stowed in the back and his hand is on the Jeep door, all is a go. Until he hears his name and Sam's using his frustrated, pissed tone, that he kinda has missed.
"What, Sam. I'm on a schedule here," Dean growls without turning around, figures things will go better if he doesn't have to do the whole stare down with his brother. But then his brother's somehow been freaky fast, has breached his personal space bubble and snagged his bicep in one of his huge paws and is forcibly stopping his forward motion into the Jeep.
So the confrontation, the stare down, it's on. Except when he turns to Sam, all ready to put on the I've-got- a-job-and-I'm-gonna-do-it-and-you're-not-gonna-stop-me rant, his brother's out and out worried expression blows all that apart. And Sam's words do another torpedo to his plans.
"I thought we weren't going to run away from each other anymore."
Sam doesn't accuse, would be easier if he did. No it's hurt and concern and appeal. "I'm not running, I'm working, Sam. And we aren't not even heading for a hot zone…it's like a lukewarm …tepid zone," Dean lightheartedly reassures. None of which placates his brother.
Sam exhales, tries using his college debate tactics. "You know you're not ready for this. You're just barely staying upright, Dean. No one expects you to head on a mission yet." 'No one but you,' Sam doesn't say but he knows Dean's standards for himself.
But Dean gives his brother one of his trademark smiles of bravado. "Evil doesn't take a holiday so neither can the good guys, Sam."
"You weren't taking a friggin' holiday, Dean. You're practically coming back from the brink of death," Sam snaps, can't stand when Dean forgets the important stuff, like to take care of himself.
"Nice zombie reference, really settles the nerves when we got a widespread croat virus. Which, by the way, I gotta get back to slowing down." His case stated, Dean goes to slip his arm from Sam's grip.
But Sam doesn't let Dean go, instead ignores Dean and looks over the Jeep roof to Yeager, who's about to hop in the Jeep's passenger side. "Give us a minute," he commands and the man obeys, doesn't even look to Dean, his leader to get his permission.
Angry at Sam's interference, Dean angrily warns, "Sam…" isn't prepared for Sam's next actions, for his brother to ruthlessly press his palm against his bullet wound in his chest. It incites a cry of pain from him even as he starts to double over, right into Sam's waiting grip. Bowed head pressed into Sam's collarbone, he wheezes out, "Crap Sam! What the …"
"We're not doing this all over again. We're not." Steel in Sam's tone that snaps Dean's head up to read his brother's expression. "We're not going to argue and do reckless things and walk out on each other. We're not going to let the world's crapstorm tear us apart. And I'm not letting you go on thinking this is your mess to clean up when it's ours. Mine and yours and that means we do whatever we do together. And right now, what we're gonna do is stay here so you can heal up."
"Sam I wasn't ditching you, I was going …"
Sam ruthlessly cuts him off, "On a mission out there with croats and who knows how many of hell's playmates looking to kill you all the while you're functioning at like…35%."
"75% and, for me, that's still pretty awesome," Dean brags with a cocky smile.
"That why you almost screamed and passed out when I pressed on your bullet wound?" Sam caustically challenges before he huffs, shakes his head, nails Dean a moment later with an expression of vulnerability. "Maybe it doesn't mean much to you but your almost died, Dean."
"Kinda common place, right? Heart attack, car accident, the Trickster's 'kill Dean' game." Then Dean changes gears, conversationally announces, "By the way, The Trickster, he's actually the archangel Gabriel. Pretty cool, huh?"
Sam's brow furrows in confusion. "Archangel…I…?! No Dean, not cool…" Then he exhales, knows he needs to calm down if he wants Dean to really listen to him. "Point is…." But it's there he stops, knows the next thing out of his mouth, it's one of those make-it-or-break-it moments but he's 99% sure he needs to cross that line. 'Yeah, not like that 1% hasn't screwed me before,' he sardonically thinks but can't go on not knowing where he and Dean stand, just praying the future will work itself out. So yeah, he needs to get his feelings out there and brace for the fallout.
Under Dean's patient stare as he waits for him to get his crap together, Sam realizes Dean is willing to give him the floor, to hear him out. To maybe have them do things differently this go around. Better. So Sam makes his plea, "I need to know if what I want matters to you, Dean." 'That I want you safe and if you can't be safe…I want to be at your side.'
And Sam would suggest they be partners, share the weight of the camp responsibilities but that never fairs well in their dynamics. And besides, the camp, its Dean's. His as much as the Impala was. Something Dean earned, treasured, protected, deserved. At that reference, Sam's eyes can't help but stray to the Impala and Sam fights down a swallow of grief at the state of the car his brother once loved above all worldly possessions. 'Save one…that amulet, your gift to him years ago.'
Those thoughts cause Sam to say something different than he planned. "That we're going to have each other's backs." 'Not walk away when things get tough again, to not let our yearning to save the world, to right our wrongs, end up destroying our brotherhood all over again.'
Dean practically snorts in affectionate disbelief, like Sam's been told all this before and isn't getting it. "Course we are, Sam. We're together now and we're staying together this time," that last a declaration, a vow, a promise.
And Sam's latching onto that promise with every fiber he possesses. "Ok, then…I'm asking you to let yourself heal, to not go on this mission. To just…delegate it to someone else."
Seeing the objection in Dean's eyes, Sam acknowledges, "And yeah, I get that it's important…but is it more important than us?" And it's juvenile but suddenly he's holding his breath, anticipation and fear filling in his lungs instead of air.
When Dean calls to Yeager, beckons him back to the Jeep, Sam feels gutted that Dean's choosing the mission over him. He steps back, almost stumbles back really, and decides then and there that he won't hold Dean back any more from what he values more important than him. But Dean's next words have his head snapping up.
"Yeager, you're leading this one. Just keep out of the hot zone." Then Dean's stepping away from the Jeep, is letting Yeager slip behind the wheel, calmly stands there as his men leave on their mission, without him.
But Dean, he's not alone. Sam's standing at his side, not watching the Jeep roll out of the camp but watching his brother.
Turning, Dean sees an astonished smile on his brother's face, and he's proud that he's the one that put it there. "You do know that I get cranky when I'm bored," Dean grouses because it's easier than letting Sam's happiness at his decision get him all sappy.
"Poker?" Sam offers, as he turns for the cabin and Dean mirrors his actions.
"You suck at Poker, Sam," Dean teases, though that wasn't strictly true. Sam didn't suck ….was pretty good, course he had had an awesome teacher. But the thing with playing with Sam…he treated every hand like a landmine he had to defuse, without a timer counting down to hurry him along.
"Fine, then Scrabble it is," Sam replies innocently, barely holds back his mischievous smile when Dean's eyes narrow at his counter move and Dean accuses, "You manipulative jerk. Seriously, a friggin' Scrabble board survived the zombie apocalypse. You know I hate Scrabble."
"I know," Sam gloats as he and Dean maneuver through the high grass. And Sam is more than content at the prospect of a few days with Dean recuperating and grumbling about how badly he beat him in Scrabble.
"No using Latin this time," Dean qualifies.
"Fine, no using band names," Sam shoots back.
Chuck, overhearing, turns from his path and starts trailing behind the two men, asks, "Hey, you guys gonna play Scrabble? I love games. Can I play?"
"No," Sam and Dean say in synch as they continue to head for Sam's cabin, setting more rules as they go.
And Chuck tries not to take their refusal personally. After penning their life story for years, he knows them well enough to know that it might not be star gazing on the Impala's hood or a rock concert but they still take their down time together seriously, almost as seriously as they take their one-on-one competitions.
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TBC
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Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Have a great day!
Cheryl W.