Casser la Voix - Patrick Bruel

(Lit. Break the Voice; means Shout Oneself Raw)


When Sam went down, Dean could see something has changed. And he wasn't sure he liked that. That was a Sam who didn't want to rely on him, withdrawn and colder than Dean liked.

He thought he had managed to get through Sam half an hour ago. Guess it was only sleep and the hangover talking.

Shit!

Not again...

Sam did dig in his hastily prepared meal: pasta, canned tomatoes for sauce and some sausages left-over. It would do for now.

Dean let his brother eat in peace, not really in a hurry to find out how far he has withdrawn this time and started to ruffle through the papers. He had no idea how Sam's freakish brain worked when running on booze, sleep deprive and despair. There were bits of about everything: a list of likely spreading points, demons omen, clips about recent epidemics tucked in their journal at the page relating their first encounter with the Croatoan.

_ Vaccine?

Sam looked up from his second refill; Dean was pointing a blue post-it Sam had scribbled. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember. To what that particular note was related.

_ I was wondering. We know once the disease spreads, it's nearly impossible to stop. There might be a cure but the erm... virus, spreads too fast, is too potent. It wouldn't help much. I survived once, might be a fluke, I might be immune.

_ So you think we could make a vaccine to prevent the spread?

Well... "we"... Someone.

_ It was just one idea amongst others. In case we get too late.

_ We won't!

Dean's determination was a good thing, most of the time. It was also blinding him sometimes, rendering him incapable of seeing that things did not always bend to his will. That one should be prepared for things to go south. And in their case, not being prepared would be the doom of all humanity.

_ Too early to argue about that.

_ Sam...

Just stay calm... You know how to do it. Remember, like when you wanted to bash dad's head because his recklessness had Dean once again wounded in hospital, or concussed and alternating between throwing his guts and be out cold.

_ We do our best, but we can't know Dean. We lost the only person who could have told us how long we still have. And we can't screw up that one.

_ But we don't know anyone with a medicine degree who could do that.

Sam looked up from his polishing. Maybe they did, if he had finished his studies. But what they didn't have was the original virus' strain; it had vanished with the people of River Grove. What Dean had seen in the future was spreading so fast, they weren't even sure it was the same virus, or improved. Fuck-it!

_ Moot point. Told you, I just threw things around.

That was maddening. He felt... restless, edgy, since Gabriel had disappeared. It didn't feel like it was only his worries doing it. At least, if the bond of sort he had with Gabriel was pulling at him, it meant his angel was still alive.

He went to the fridge to get something to drink and yoghurt. Dean still ruffling through his notes, half of them he barely remembered making.

_ Sam?

_ Hn?" He uttered around a spoonful of yoghurt and cereals. He was hungry, and still a bit hungover.

_ Why taking notes about diseases spreading rates? We know how that crap spreads: through blood contact.

_ They could have improved it, make it more easy to spread. And... I don't know." God he was so tired. "I don't even remember half of it Dean.

_ OK.

It had been brief, but Sam felt disappointment in his brother's tone. Again.

_ Sorry." He got up and undressed the table. Starting to wash the dishes.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the pages ruffling softly, the slosh of water and, from the yard, the muffled chatter of Castiel and Meg. Sam's mechanic movements on the pan stopped. He wasn't sure what he heard, there.

_ Don't. Please don't go again.

It was a whisper, barely audible above the water. As if Dean was ashamed he was even saying it. Sam wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it. It made it even worse. Now he could understand why Dean always seemed so worn down, holding by threads. Having to take care of another being, despite that deep pit gnawing at your insides, was quite exhausting.

He finished the dishes, maybe with a little more care than earlier. It was quick, not that many pans and plates since he had been the only one to eat. Then turned toward Dean, he had abandoned the papers to browse his recent internet history.

_ The chicken flu?" He was reading above Dean's shoulder. "Was I that drunk?

_ Don't know, you seemed not that smashed when you kicked me out of our room.

Sam shuffled awkwardly.

_ You know why I did it.

_ Doesn't mean I have to like your... means.

When has Dean ever liked his means? Every time Sam made a call, Dean didn't like it. Even when it was to come back to Gabriel. Despite the good it did bring for once.

Sam sighed and leant against the sink... stop making everything about you, bitch. But damn, right now it was...

_ Fuck it.

Dean turned around to look up at him.

_ Excuse-me?

_ I can't Dean. I'm sorry, right now, I can't. Or I'll blow up something. It's not against you. So please... just let me handle it the way I know.

_ Nope. Last two times didn't work a charm, did they?

Dean was up now and standing right in from of him. Tug at his shirt.

_ Come here.

Sam was perplex, for an instant, until Dean lead him outside. Yeah, right, as if Dean would ask for a hug. They went for the scrapyard, ambled passed Cass and Meg, still on their car, toward the back of the high stacked junk car.

_ Pick one. A solid one, not some crappy plastic ... crap.

Great! What was he thinking? They had other things to do.

_ What for?

_ Shut-up, you do it my way. Pick-up one.

Sam shrugged, better let Dean have his ways right now, it will be over faster. He pointed to a wreak that must have been nice, before being T-boned by what could have been a bus.

_ Could have been worse." Dean shrugged. "Bring it on there.

Sam looked at the car, wheels pointing in all directions and the place his brother wanted his to drag it. Has Dean mistaken him with superman?

_ Dean I can't...

But Dean was already gone.

Sam huffed. Stomped grumpily, and considered going back in.

They still had a Horseman to gank, and Michael might be the only one left able to help find Gabriel. No way they were gonna tell Lucifer about his baby brother missing after being chased by Zach. He would just storm heaven in anger. That wasn't their angle, even if Sam was inclined to say yes to the Devil just to get his hands on the ass who robbed him of his angel.

In a surge of returning anger, he kicked the car. Didn't have the right shoes, bitch it hurt. As well use the feeling to get it done. The fact that he was rapidly growing frustrated and worked up against the damn thing was actually helping.

By the time he got the wreaked pile of rusty iron where Dean wanted it, he was sweating and his arms and back were a bit sore. Dean was seated afar, reading on some stuff, a fresh bottle in hand, and a huge hammer laying against his leg. Huge like half Sam's size.

_ Good! Now take this." He handed the hammer.

Balancing between baffled and annoyed, Sam took the thing. Seriously, what was going on with his brother?

_ Now, you've got the choice, either you use it to turn your car into some ironish modern art, or you fix it.

Sam's eyebrows shot up, his gaze traveling back and forth to Dean, the hammer in his hand and the wrecked car.

_ Dean, I know squat about cars. I can barely do the maintenance on the Impala.

Dean smiled, good answer.

_ That's why I'm there brother of mine.

By sunset, Sam was dripping with sweat, every single one of his muscles hurt, and some he didn't even knew were there. With fatigue came calmness. Except for the sore, restless part where he used to feel Gabriel. That didn't relent.

The car... was in pieces Sam has disassembled it under Dean's supervision. Its chassis was almost in the shape it should be. That was a start.

_ Feeling better?

As an answer, Sam breezed past Dean toward the house and ultimately the bathroom. Well, Dean hoped for the bathroom, because that breeze sure didn't smell good. He was used to his baby brother's musk, but not to this point.


Girls, I'm back. :)