11 - My Brother's Keeper

Over the next two weeks, Dean had agreed to speak to a therapist. He'd agreed to medication. He'd even agreed to drastically reduce his alcohol intake after Sam found him passed out on the floor of his room with his pants on backwards and a pink bra around his neck. At least on that night, he'd had the presence of mind to leave Baby's keys with Ellen and Jo and be driven home by his latest conquest. Dean had been forced to admit that he'd been a borderline alcoholic, although functional, for some time now. Sam couldn't remember how many times his brother had stumbled home drunk and disheveled. Now Dean rarely had more than a single beer a day. It was a huge relief.

Of course, if Dean was secretly flushing the pills, Sam would have little way to know that. But Sam did what he could. He bought a daily pill minder ("I'm not an old woman, Sam!" Dean had yelled when he'd seen it, but Sam didn't care, it was functional) and made sure to keep close track of Dean's meds. It was quickly apparent that if Sam didn't bring Dean the pills, Dean would conveniently "forget" to take them. Now, Sam simply delivered them with a non-alcoholic drink and handed them over. At least Dean put them in his mouth and took a drink. If he hid the meds in his cheek and spit them in the toilet the first chance he got, there was nothing Sam could do to stop it. At least, after the second time Sam had pointed them out in the trash can, Dean had stopped doing that.

Jimmy, meanwhile, was surprisingly willing to do whatever they asked of him. The first few nights, Sam had waited until Dean was asleep and then snuck in to sleep on his brother's floor, sure Jimmy would try to get to Dean. But Jimmy never did, and the fit Dean threw the day he woke up early and discovered Sam on his floor convinced Sam to stay in his own bed. Still, he slept every night with his door open.

It helped when he realized Bobby had been doing that all along. Clearly, their pseudo father wasn't taking any chances with their unwelcome house guest.

Sam had called his academic advisor and let her know he needed to be there for his brother. She'd explained that, since some of his required courses were only offered that semester, this would mean he would either be stuck taking GenEd classes the next semester or be out the entire year. Either way could cost him his scholarship. Sam thanked her, said he'd let her know his decision, and hung up. Losing his scholarship meant he would probably also lose his chance to become a lawyer. But really, it was no contest. His brother was more important. He'd take care of Dean now, and figure out his life later. Nothing mattered more than family.

Unfortunately, that meant he was in a foul mood when he ran into Jimmy. Bobby had put the bastard to work in his scrap yard, cleaning up and arranging the piles of junk. Even with only one arm, Jimmy's unusual strength meant he was making short work of the mess. It also meant the man was usually filthy. Today was no exception. Sam was just coming out of the bathroom when he literally ran into Jimmy, who was heading there to wash up. Sam grimaced in disgust, brushing his hands over the splotch of dirt their brief contact had left on his shirt. "Dammit, Jimmy, what did you do? Roll in the mud?"

Jimmy squinted and tilted his head in the way that Sam had come to understand meant he was confused about something. "No, why would I do that?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Ugh, never mind, just go get cleaned up."

"Yes, that was what I'd planned to do." Jimmy was unfailingly polite. He even gave Sam a smile. "Excuse me."

In the end, Sam wasn't sure what it was that set him off. Maybe it was the news about his school. Maybe it was the dirt on his shirt. Or maybe it was just that Jimmy had smiled at him, when this whole mess was his fault. Whatever his reason, Sam finally snapped. Before he knew he was going to do it, he had Jimmy by the lapels of that stupid trench coat he always wore and had slammed the smaller man against the wall.

Sam wasn't, by nature, a cruel man. Any other time, Jimmy's cry of pain would have made him stop and think twice about what he was doing. But at this moment, Sam had simply had enough. "Why are you here?" he hissed. "What the hell are you trying to do with my brother? What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Jimmy asked, blue eyes wide with surprise. "Right now, I would very much appreciate it if you'd stop holding my wing against the wall like this. It hurts from dragging on the ground and catching on things, and this is really making it hurt more."

That got through even Sam's anger. He let Jimmy go, but he didn't back off. "What do you want from my brother?" he demanded. "He doesn't have money, so what do you really want?"

"From Dean?" Jimmy was gingerly rubbing at his wing with his good arm. "I'd like a kiss."

"A kiss?!" Sam sputtered.

Jimmy nodded, giving a cautious smile. "Yes. I very much enjoyed it when we kissed. I would like him to kiss me some more, if that's acceptable. Do you think he would like to kiss me? He said we could kiss once I got cleaned up."

"I'd be happy to kiss you, Jimmy. Assuming Sam here doesn't go all Captain Caveman on you again."

Sam cringed, belatedly realizing that Dean had come up behind him. "You saw that, huh?"

"I saw you backing an injured man against a wall like a damned alpha male asshole, yes," Dean growled, coming closer. "I heard him cry out and I heard you yelling, so I ran over, and this is what I see? Sam, did you just throw him against that wall? What the hell is wrong with you?! We used to kick the asses of guys who pulled that shit in school!"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done that," Sam admitted, backing up.

Dean quickly moved between them, glaring furiously at Sam. "I ought to rip your lungs out! What's your problem, Sam?!"

"It's…" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. It's been a tough day. I shouldn't have put my hands on you. I just want to know what your game is."

"My game?" Jimmy was giving him the head tilt squint look again. "I have no game. I was just coming to get cleaned up. I assume Dean was coming to help?"

"Help?!" Sam looked from Jimmy to his abashed brother. "You're not supposed to even talk to him unattended, Dean! You telling me now that you've been helping him bathe?"

Dean apparently found a patch of floor fascinating. "Come on, Sam, look at the guy, would you? He's been here for nearly two weeks, and he hasn't been able to really get his hair or his wings clean because of his injuries. So I asked him after breakfast if he needed me to help him. Now don't get pissy," Dean warned, obviously sensing Sam bristle without looking up. "Bobby was with us, so we weren't sneaking off together or anything. Jimmy's been respecting the rules, keeping his distance so we're never alone. Bobby was right there, heard me offer, and didn't say a word. So drop the bitch face, ok?"

"Uh huh," Sam deadpanned. "And what's this about a kiss?"

Dean's face turned an interesting shade of red. "He likes kisses," he admitted weakly. "Come on, Sam, what's the big deal? He needs help and I know how to help him."

"Fine," Sam spat. "I'll help him." He scoffed, seeing his brother's head snap up. "So now I get a bitch face? Too bad, Dean. I'm not letting Jimmy be alone in a cramped bathroom with you."

"Are you going to kiss me, then?" Jimmy asked, confused.

Sam sputtered. "What?! I… No! Nobody is kissing anyone. Forget about the kissing. You've got a long way to go before I'm alright with you kissing my brother, Jimmy. And for the record, I'm having a chat with Bobby. I cannot believe that old fool was ok with this!"

"Who the hell are you calling an old fool?" Bobby, apparently having heard the yelling, came stomping down the hall.

At that moment, Sam had simply had enough. "I'm calling you an old fool!" he roared, startling everyone. "It's your house, Bobby, so if you want to invite Jimmy to stay after what he's done, that's your call. But where the hell do you get off, letting my brother…?"

"I'm a fucking adult, Sam!" Dean yelled. "You're not my damned keeper. I'm not a child, and I don't need a babysitter. If I want to help Jimmy get himself cleaned up, that's my call, not yours, especially not after the way you just threw him around! And if you ever touch him again, I will kick your ass!"

"I'm inclined to agree," Bobby added.

Dismay washed over Sam. Realizing he'd gone too far, he turned pleading eyes to Dean. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I never should have just attacked him like that, especially unprovoked. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's just, I'm worried about you, Dean. I love you, and if anything happened to you, I don't know how I'd go on."

Sam had been told he had an amazing set of puppy dog eyes. They'd worked to get him out of many a sticky situation, and they worked now with his brother. Dean seemed to deflate. His shoulders unhunched, and he took a deep breath through his nose. "Sam," he began, "you and Bobby are doing what you think is right. You were way out of line putting your hands on Jimmy, but I do get that you're under a lot of pressure. You shouldn't even be here, man, you should be in school, studying to be a big shot lawyer. Staying here like you're clearly planning to do has got to mess with your scholarship, right?"

Sam winced. "Don't worry about that, Dean," he soothed. "I just got off the phone with my adviser. We'll work something out. Right now, my primary concern is you. But you're not a child," he added quickly, seeing his brother's shoulders start to hunch again. "Bobby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was wrong, and Jimmy?" He turned to the other man, who was watching everything with a look of consternation. "I never should have put my hands on you. It won't happen again. But all that being said? I would just feel better if I were the one to help you get washed up. It's not anything personal against anyone," he added loudly, sensing rather than seeing Dean about to explode once more. "I just would very much like a chance to talk to you, one on one, just the two of us. It's overdue. No better opportunity to do that than this, right?"

"That seems reasonable," Jimmy agreed. His eyes went to Dean. "Can I still get a kiss afterwards?"

"We'll talk about that, ok?" Sam said quickly before Dean could answer. "For now, let's get you cleaned up."

Sam could tell Dean wasn't happy. Fortunately, Bobby stepped in, taking Dean by the arm and speaking softly to him. Whatever he said, Dean listened. He wordlessly went with the older man down the hall.

Jimmy, meanwhile, seemed perfectly content with the current arrangement. He moved to the cupboard and pulled out linens for his bath. "I can get most of it done," he explained. "I can take off my splint in the bath, but I can't really use my arm to wash much yet. My hair is a problem, because it's hard to get both sides. But the biggest problem is my wings. The wing I can use my good arm to clean I can't bend properly, and the wing that bends I can't use my bad arm to clean."

For the first time, Sam looked closely at Jimmy's wings. To his dismay, he could see bits of twigs, rust, even a broken wire caught in the feathers. He grimaced. "I can see how that's a problem," Sam agreed. For once, he felt sympathy for the man. "Ok, how about I wait out here in the hall, and you call me when you're ready for help?"

"That sounds reasonable." Jimmy went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Soon, Sam could hear the sound of running water in the tub, followed by splashing. A short time later, Jimmy called his name.

Sam came in, and froze. "Um, Jimmy?" he called. "You're naked."

He was. Jimmy was sitting on the edge of the tub, naked as a jay bird, smiling calmly at Sam. He looked down, frowning at his nude body as though just realizing he was unclothed. "Yes," he said. "I just took a bath, Sam. It's difficult to do that clothed."

"Yeah, um…" Sam shook his head. For the first time, he was starting to realize just how little about the most ordinary things Jimmy seemed to understand. This, he realized, was no act. Jimmy was a much less conniving con man than he'd first believed. What he was dealing with here was more like mild cognitive impairment than anything nefarious. Clearing his throat, Sam reached for the clean boxers and a towel. "W-why don't you dry yourself off, and put these on?" he said, handing them clumsily towards the naked man without looking.

Jimmy accepted the items. Sam stood awkwardly facing the wall, listening to the soft fumbling sounds behind him as Jimmy dried off and dressed in the boxers. "Alright. I'm wearing them. I'm sorry if my nudity offended you."

"It didn't," Sam assured, daring to turn around. He smiled to see Jimmy was indeed clothed in the boxers. "Nothing about your body is offensive, Jimmy. I just didn't expect to see you naked, is all. I thought you would have put those on before you called me in."

Jimmy cocked his head. "Why?"

"Well…" Sam fumbled a moment for the answer. "Generally, being naked in front of another person isn't something you do, not unless you're being intimate."

"I understand." Jimmy was nodding, his expression serious. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time I'm naked."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Given Jimmy's comment earlier about Sam kissing him, part of him had worried that Jimmy actually was expecting something from him beyond help with bathing. But apparently, it was yet another of Jimmy's odd quirks. The man's complete lack of knowledge regarding normal human interactions was alarming. What kind of life had this man lived that he was so sheltered? There was no way Jimmy could have run any sort of con on his own. The way he'd fallen apart with Dean was proof enough of that. But that meant he had to have someone with him, someone who had clearly controlled Jimmy, kept him isolated and sheltered to the point where the man could barely even care for himself.

A wave of pity rose in Sam's throat, along with a healthy dose of self-disgust. How could he have treated this man the way he did? Sam quickly fought the emotions down. He'd try to make it up to Jimmy, starting with looking into Jimmy's partner later. Right now, Jimmy needed help bathing, not someone looking at him as something to be pitied. Sam picked up a clean washcloth and gave Jimmy a smile. "Ok. How should I start?"

Cleaning Jimmy's wings was actually amazing. It was easy to see how the man could convince others he was an angel. The wings were fully mobile, at least on the right. The left wing, without the cast, was quite likely fully mobile, too. The feathers looked just like bird feathers, although obviously much larger. The big flight feathers were longer than Sam's arm. Jimmy even had a layer of down under them, just like a bird. The membrane seemed more like human skin, although the big bones in the wings were identical to a large bird of prey. Sam was fascinated. He took his time cleaning them, realizing with dismay that they really were a mess. "I'm sorry about this," he said. "I should have realized you'd have trouble, offered to help before."

"I didn't realize I could ask you," Jimmy admitted. "It's obvious that you don't care much for me."

"Well, maybe I was wrong about that, too." Sam finished and turned to regard Jimmy. "I'm not happy about the way you tricked my brother. But you were right when you said you couldn't have known about his condition." Sam pushed back his hair with a sigh. "Jimmy, I don't mean to offend you, but it's kind of obvious that you're not exactly a criminal mastermind. Do you think it's possible that, in your previous life, you had someone else that actually did the planning, and you were just following orders?"

Solemn blue eyes met his. "I think that's quite probable."

"Yeah, I do, too." Sam considered his words. "You still don't remember anything about your past, like maybe who it was that gave you your orders?"

Jimmy looked down. "No. I think you're right, though. The idea of following orders? That seems very familiar. I can almost remember someone, a man, talking to me, telling me what I needed to do. But when I try to focus on his face?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just can't remember."

"Ok. Don't push it. Maybe it will come to you. I can do some research, too. If someone was pulling a con somewhere using a guy with wings? Well, there's bound to be some mention of it."

That earned him a smile. "Thank you. I would like that very much."

Sam smiled back and indicated the sink. "How about I bring in a chair, prop you up on a cushion, and have you lean forward for me to wash your hair in the sink? That way you can avoid putting any pressure on your wings, but you won't have to bend over and be uncomfortable. It must be difficult to lean forward for any amount of time with that much weight on your upper body."

"I am very strong," Jimmy argued. "I enjoyed it a great deal when Dean washed my hair."

"Yeah, well, you enjoyed him kissing you, too, Jimmy," Sam pointed out with a chuckle. "I'm not going to do that, but I'll not stand in your way if Dean wants to give you a kiss afterwards."

That made Jimmy brighten. "You won't? I would like that very much!"

Clearly, Jimmy didn't know about Dean's night out drinking. That was probably for the best. "One kiss," Sam stressed. "That's all. I just don't think Dean's ready for more with you. Not yet, not when he's still trying to get a grip on his psychological issues."

"Because of what I did to him."

Sam eyed Jimmy. The man looked perfectly miserable. His wings, now clean and glossy, drooped until the lowest feathers were on the floor. Sam grimaced. "Jimmy," he began, "my brother has been sick for a long time, long before you came into the picture. He survived something that no one can explain, something everyone else in his unit died from. The shock of that, the guilt Dean felt from being the sole survivor? My brother is the kind of man who would gladly give his own life for someone else. You know he was dragging injured people out of a burning building when the second bomb went off?" Sam shook his head with a chuckle. "Dean's a hero. Of course, he always has been, in my eyes."

Jimmy seemed to study Sam. "You love your brother very much."

"More than you can imagine," Sam confessed. "You know what he does for a living? Well, I can't actually tell you what he does, but let's just say he's a hero to an awful lot of people who had nowhere else to turn. This isn't the first time he's had a breakdown. He slit his wrist in an abandoned building before. Scared me half to death, how close I came to losing him. To go through that again?" He shook his head. "I cannot imagine anything worse."

"I understand," Jimmy said. For some reason, the man had a determined expression on his face. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

Part of Sam warned him that Jimmy was an admitted con man. He'd already tricked Dean, confused his brother to the point where Sam was afraid to leave him alone. But looking at Jimmy now, and hearing the absolute sincerity in his voice? Sam simply couldn't believe that this was all just an act.

Sam quickly washed Jimmy's hair, which gave him time to think. Once the winged man was clean and towel dried, Sam had made up his mind. "Would you like to go out to the living room?" he said. "You can watch TV with the rest of us, and maybe Dean can comb your hair." He cleared his throat. "Maybe he can even give you that kiss."

Jimmy lit up. "I would like that very much!"

Seeing his brother getting kissed by an enthusiastic winged man was awkward, to say the least. But it was worth it to see the soft, happy, blushing face of his brother afterwards.