Chapter 14: Battles on the Frontline

For as long as he could remember Dean had lived with his head wrapped in the music that his father had insisted on playing. He loved it, he always had. The gentle cries of metal strings had rocked him to sleep at night, back before he'd learned the truth. The only truth that really mattered; life isn't fair and not every child grows up in a happy well-adjusted home. So he'd tried to give to Sam what he'd known he would never have, a normal childhood. And now life had slapped him with another challenge that he wasn't sure he could meet.

Living in a world without sound? All because of some bitch and her obsession with Sam and the American hunters? And all of this after he'd saved the whole damn world, again. A quote occurred to him and he'd never felt it was truer than at this moment, 'the world breaks everyone, and those it doesn't…it kills.' Hemmingway had said that in a book Dean had read so many years ago that he couldn't even recall exactly when. But that quote had stuck out then and even more so now.

Could he even protect Sam this way? What about their mother, who knew nothing of this time and the things they'd faced? Monsters weren't the same as they'd been when she'd died. That thought sent sharp emotional pain coursing through him.

He tended to think it would be extremely difficult. Unlike Eileen, he hadn't had a lifetime to learn how to navigate a silent world. With a start, Dean realized that he had gained more respect, and he'd already respected her greatly, for the deaf hunter that Sam had developed a relationship with. He didn't know the exact nature of that relationship, he'd never asked Sammy about it, but she meant more than just being another hunter. His brother had found something in her that he'd been seeking for a long, a kindred soul. Someone that understood the pain of his youth and could allow him to continue hunting. For once Dean wasn't threatened by the idea of Sam and a woman.

Twisting, he winced, pain was now his constant companion. But it was more than just physical, it was emotional. He wanted nothing more than to just sink into it and let it wash him away, but he couldn't. Sam needed him. Cas needed him. And his mother needed him. They each needed him to bounce back from this, but he wasn't sure he could. He'd spent his life bouncing back from every messed-up thing that had happened to him. It felt like this, was one too many.

His gaze drifted down to his battered body and he pressed his lips together with rising frustration. Why did everything have to be on them? Wasn't there anyone else in the entire world that could shoulder the load…just for a little while? Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that question. There wasn't anyone else. Whether he liked it or not his family was on the front line for all things supernatural.

Sam didn't say anything, he simply let Dean work through his thoughts. But he didn't leave either. His younger brother stayed, seated at his side. It was a silent offer of strength, one that Dean hoped he could accept. Inside him, everything was churning in a maelstrom of angst and repressed memories that he couldn't quite let go of. Under normal circumstances he would go to his room and play his music way too loud in an effort to drown out his thoughts. I guess I'll have to find another way to deal with my life. He considered grimly.

Shifting, he realized that Sammy had fallen asleep. His brother's head was dropped forward onto his chest, his folded arms crossing his chest to support themselves. Not wanted to wake him, Dean slowly pulled himself to his knees before climbing to his feet. The moment he put pressure on his right knee, he nearly blacked out. Excruciating pain erupted in the joint and he found himself leaning heavily against the wall. Attempting to breathe through it, he didn't realize that Sam was now staring up at him, a worried expression marring his face as he did.

He mouthed something that Dean couldn't hear. Assuming that he knew his brother well enough to guess what he'd be saying, he answered. "I'm okay. Just a bit unsteady."

Whatever his brother responded with was said too fast for Dean to attempt a guess. He just shook his head and then regretted the action when is throbbed painfully.

Sam frowned, turning he grabbed his phone and typed in a message. Holding it up, he waited for Dean to read it. *Do you need anything? I don't know how to help you.*

Shoving down every instinct he had, Dean answered. "I don't think you can."

He watched as his words seemed to douse Sam with icy water. His eyes teared up and he scrambled to his feet typing frantically. *I have to. This is my fault, Dean.*

Far too many years of always putting Sammy first wouldn't allow him to ignore the emotional pain he saw in his little brother's eyes. "This isn't your fault." He swallowed the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him before continuing. "Even knowing this would happen I'd still come after you…I will always come for you."

Dean could feel his body starting to fail and the last thing he wanted was to weigh more guilt on his brother. So, he tried to smile before turning toward his own room. The cane he'd used to get this far acted as a third leg allowing him some dignity as he limped away. He knew that it was nearly killing Sammy that he couldn't offer any physical support. And yet Dean was grateful that he understood the turmoil inside his older brother. Because he wasn't sure he could handle being touched, not yet and not by Sam. The bloody memories were too fresh, too painful for him to ignore. A light brush of their knees was not the same as leaning on his younger brother. That would be admitting to the weakness of both his body and his mind by that one action.

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Sam watched with a heavy heart as Dean barely managed to keep his leg from collapsing under him as he struggled down the long hallway. He wanted, more than anything, to pull his brother's good arm around his shoulders and offer his help. But that wasn't any option. He'd seen the pain and the suppressed fear in his brother's green eyes. Dean couldn't accept his help right now. Remembering how Dean had been after returning from hell, Sam realized that this wasn't the first time his likeness had been used to break his older brother. Lurching to his feet, he raced toward the men's lavatory and dropped heavily to his knees, emptying the contents of his stomach.

He had no idea how long he knelt there before he finally managed to sink backwards, his back leaning against the side of the metal stall.

"Are you okay?"

Castiel's question surprised him, and Sam started slightly. He hadn't realized he wasn't alone. Although, the angel didn't exactly have plumbing problems like humans, so he could only be in the bathroom because he'd seen Sam heading there. A glass of water appeared near his limp hand, looking up through the fringe of his hair, Sam forced a small smile of gratitude. Taking the water, he rinsed his mouth out, spitting into the toilet bowl before flushing it again.

"I take that as a 'no'?" The deep gravel of Cas's voice was a familiar thing that Sam could grasp onto. He centered himself using that familiar sound, pulling a deep breath he shook his head.

"No, I'm not okay."

The angel nodded. Looking around, he finally folded his legs beneath himself and sank down across from Sam. "Neither am I." he admitted softly.

Sam's head snapped up. It was unusual for the angelic being to admit the existence of the human emotions he was subject to. Possessing a human vessel came with more than just a body, it also came with the feelings that person had had.

Cas shrugged his shoulders. "I'm worried about Dean. And I feel responsible that I could not heal him. I can't erase the hell that spell put him through."

Sighing, Sam leaned back a bit more. "He can't hear, Cas. Whatever she did to him, it was more than just inside his head." Lifting devastated eyes, he added. "Dean's deaf."

He watched as his admission of Dean's disability settled on the angel's shoulders. Cas seemed to slump a bit more. "Are you sure?"

Sam snorted, "Am I sure? Of course I'm fucking sure." Tears slipped down his face as she stared at the angelic being, knowing there was nothing the angel could do fix it. "I don't know what to do here, Cas. This is my fault…and I can't do a damn thing."

"Is it permanent?" Mary's strained voice cut through the thick atmosphere of guilt inside the room. Both men turned to stare at her. Stepping further into the men's bathroom, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is it permanent?" she asked again.

Sam wiped at his tears, climbing to his feet he turned his full attention on his mother. "I don't know." He admitted softly.

She nodded, shifting her gaze to the angel. "What else don't I know?"

"I don't know what—"

Narrowing her blue eyes, she took a step forward. "Yes, you do."

The tall man with her baby boy's eyes, moved next to her. "Mom, it was bad. What that spell did to Dean; it was bad."

"Tell me." It wasn't a question. This was a demand that she expected him to meet.

Some time later… Sam sat across from his mother, toying with his coffee cup. A half-empty bottle of scotch sat next to his fingers. She had listened quietly as he'd explained what he'd seen inside his brother's head. Her expression had shifted very little, except when he'd glossed over the torture sessions that had involved him as the torturer. Her blonde eyebrows had drawn together in anger before she'd wiped her face clean of all emotion.

Ah, so that's where Dean got that from. He'd always wondered where his older brother had learned to hide his emotions behind impenetrable walls of nothing. Now, Sam understood. That hadn't been a talent their father had had. And he'd always assumed it was just something unique to Dean, obviously not.

She stayed quiet for a very long time before finally responding to him. "We need to find this Toni Bevel person." Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion in a way that wasn't natural. This was the hunter that they'd been told she had been during her life. They had a mission and that meant closing off everything else until that mission was accomplished. Sam had seen that same determination in Samuel, her father, too.

"And after we find her?" he questioned, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Lifting her blue eyes, he saw the fire raging deep inside. And he didn't need an answer. He already knew what they would do. If Toni didn't, or couldn't, fix Dean she would be a liability that had to be eliminated. She knew too much about the Winchester family and she possessed too much old knowledge. Toni Bevel was going to die for her actions, of that Sam had no doubt. But the question remained, could she repair the damage done to Dean?

TBC…

Author's Note: And…new chapter, yay! I figure tracking down Toni will give the Winchesters time to deal properly with Dean's disability and work through the emotional and physical ramifications. I want to see how Dean deals with this and how Sam chooses to help him. I also wonder if Mary would really stick around or if she'd take off hunting the British men of letters alone? I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out.

Solicitation for Reviews: If you a moment, reviews are a great way to know you're out there and enjoying the story. Thank you to those that have followed and reviewed so far.

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