Chapter 4: Heart to Heart

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I always enjoy reading everyone's comments.

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Dean shoved the last bite of his slice of chocolate cake into his mouth and pushed back from the table to give room to his expanding stomach. He had literally eaten every bite of food put in front of him and had even eaten two extra rolls drenched in butter and a second slice of cake. He was now polishing off his second glass of wine. The wine was good but Dean would always be a beer man but hey, at the moment liquor was liquor and it was free.

He heard Sam put his fork down on his plate and saw that Sam had also eaten everything he had been given, although Sam hadn't gone back for any seconds. Sam emptied his glass of Coke.

The two of them had talked very little during dinner since they had been too busy stuffing their faces, but they had listened intently as Nick told them happy stories about his wife who had died not long after their second son was born, and about his boys and his travels all around the world.

Sam really enjoyed the memories the old man recounted of his time in Venice and Rome. Sam hoped to tour Europe one day. He knew it was a dream that would probably never come true, but he could still enjoy the stories.

"You boys better get to bed or Santa might not come."

Dean snorted. "Uh, we are really grateful for the dinner and for your hospitality, but we are a little old for Santa."

"One is never too old for Christmas," Nick said.

"Christmas, no, Santa, yes," Dean reiterated with a chuckle that was interrupted by a yawn.

"Fine, maybe there is no Santa, but you two boys need some rest. You're both exhausted."

Dean had to admit the man was right. It had been a long day and now that his stomach was full and two glasses of wine were coursing through his system he was feeling very tired.

"I need to run down stairs and get our bags," Dean said suddenly.

"Me too," Sam said.

"I'll get your stuff, Sam," Dean said.

"Uh, fine." Sam wanted to tell Dean not to look in his bag but that would just get Dean's curiosity up and then he would definitely open his bag. He would just have to hope that Dean didn't find the couple of presents Sam had gotten for him.

Sam stood up and started to pick up some dirty plates.

"Don't bother with that. I will call house keeping and have it all taken care of," Nick said.

Sam nodded. "I guess I'll go back to the room then. Good night, Nick, and thank you."

"Sleep well, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and left the room, leaving Dean and Nick behind.

Dean looked at Nick and the old man smiled at him.

"Thank you," Dean said.

"You're welcome."

"I really mean it," Dean continued. "And I'm not just talking about the food and a place to sleep. I appreciate what you did for Sammy."

Nick picked up a glass of wine and walked into the living room. Dean followed him and walked to the balcony doors. The snow had stopped and a bright moon and several stars sparkled in the night sky.

"You are wrong, you know," Nick spoke up suddenly.

Dean continued to look out the glass doors when he asked, "Wrong about what?"

"Sending Sam away won't make him safe." Dean was shocked that Nick had been able to find that thought in his head. He hadn't even made up his mind to do it yet. He quickly put on his poker face and looked at the old man through the reflection in the window.

"Is this the part where you have a heart to heart talk with me like you did Sam?"

"Maybe," Nick said.

"Listen, I'm glad you were able to talk to Sam, he really needed it, but I don't. I don't need to have a long talk with Oprah or Dr. Phil."

"Maybe not, but you are considering telling Sam to go back to Stanford aren't you?"

Dean sighed. "Maybe." The idea had come to him after the incident in the asylum. He wasn't mad at Sam for that any longer, but he realized that the job was taking a serious toll on his baby brother…that maybe Sam really wasn't cut out for this life…that maybe the job was going to kill him and then Dean would really be alone. He would rather have a living brother in another state than a dead one buried six feet under.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Sam, you two need each other. If you send Sam away he will cease to exist."

"Let me guess," Dean mocked, "He will become hard, cold, and empty." He was reciting the words Nick had said to Sam earlier.

"No, I mean he will die."

Dean spun around from the window and gave Nick a hard look. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me telling Sam earlier that he has been marked from his encounters with the thing that took your mother and Jess."

Dean nodded.

"Well, if you send him away you will leave him alone and defenseless. Evil things, spirits, nightmares, they will still plague Sam, only now he won't have you there to help him through it. Eventually something will catch him when he least expects it, is least prepared for it, and he will die."

"This mark you keep talking about, what is it, like some cosmic bruise or something?"

"It's more like a neon sign right over his head, especially since the second encounter."

"I still don't fully get this."

"In Kansas, Missouri told you that the poltergeist came to your house because of what happened there twenty two years ago, that the evil had created a wound and made it act like a magnet for other evils to move it."

"So your saying Sam could be possessed? Made evil?"

"No, but I am saying that supernatural things are aware of him when he shows up, and that because of what happened he stands out in a crowd."

"Well what in the hell am I supposed to do to keep him safe?" Dean demanded.

"Exactly what you are doing," Nick told him. "I only have one suggestion to make."

"What?"

"Talk to him."

Dean grunted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think we are pretty much in agreement when I say Sam isn't like you. He never learned to create that sense of detachment that is needed for your line of work. He feels things, deeply, and every once in a while, he needs a chick flick moment if he is to make it."

"Great! That's just great. So being on the job is slowly killing Sam, but if I send him back to his normal life I will be killing Sam, and you now want me to be all touchy feely!"

"As long as Sam has you and is confident of your feelings regarding him he will be able to deal with what the job will bring. Each of you is the key to the others survival. Still, it would be good for him, and even you too, if you were willing to take a day off every once in a while. Give the boy one day a month and go sight seeing or go see a movie. Take time to celebrate Christmas, birthdays, or other simple things. It's Sam's hope and persistent belief that there is good in the world that draws you to him, but if you aren't careful your forced detachment and the job you do will erode that hope and belief until Sam becomes a carbon copy of your father. Even if you won't admit it out loud you know that a large part of you would die if that were to happen. Most of the time the only true joy you experience is that which comes from Sam, from seeing him happy and healthy, from teasing him and making jokes with him."

Dean didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, how could you argue with a guy who could read your mind?

"You can't," Nick laughed. "Go fetched your things from the car. I know you are anxious to get your presents for Sam up here for tomorrow. Then get some sleep. Good night, and sleep well."

"You too," Dean whispered and went back to the bathroom to throw his clothes on. He paused to look at Sam. He was sleeping peacefully on his side, curled up in a small ball on his side of the bed. The king size bed made Sam look so small but Dean knew it was simply an optical illusion.

He shrugged on his coat and then left the front door open so he would be able to get back in. At the car he grabbed his and Sammy's bags and then went back inside. Luckily the lobby was empty now that it was so late so he didn't have to put up with the smug stares of the other guests. As he passed the refreshment table Dean found he couldn't help himself. There was about two dozen homemade looking chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies left. Dean picked up a paper plate and put every single cookie left on it and then marched to the elevator feeling rather smug and smiling happily.

Back upstairs Dean dug through his bag and pulled out the two small gifts he had for Sammy and put them on the table under the small little tree. They were wrapped using the Sunday comics. They didn't look very Christmassy but Dean's chest swelled with happiness as he looked at them.

He turned off the lights in the room and looked at the glow of the little Christmas tree. His body was tired and he longed for sleep, yet he sat in the sofa and just stared at the twinkling lights and the tinsel with its two lonely presents beneath it.

Nick was right…right about everything. Dean couldn't send Sammy away and leave him to face danger alone. Sam wasn't the one doing the talking that night in the asylum when he said he hated Dean, and, as much as Dean loathed to admit it, Sam did need Dean to talk to him once in a while, or if not talk, then to at least listen and nod at appropriate times.

That night Sam had tried to explain, but Dean had cut him off repeatedly, allowing the pain to fester. There had been other times to when he could tell, could literally see the desperation in Sam's eyes as he silently begged Dean to talk to him or listen to him. Still, it would be hard for Dean to change. He was a product of his environment and the life he had led up to this point. But for Sammy, he would try.

"Dean?"

Dean flinched, surprised that Sammy had come up behind him without his noticing.

"I thought you were asleep. Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I simply noticed you weren't there. I thought you would have been sleeping by now too," Sam replied. "What are you thinking about?"

"Who said I was thinking about something?"

"Dean, you were a million miles away just now. I managed to completely sneak up on you. You were either thinking about something or you were on the verge of entering a catatonic state."

Dean smiled. Sam could be such a smart ass. Suddenly Dean sobered and thought about what Nick said. Now was as good a time for a chick flick moment as any other he guessed. Somehow with the lights off and the soft glow the Christmas tree it seemed to ease the moment for him, giving it a sense of surrealism.

"Have a seat," Dean said and slapped the space on the sofa next to him. Sam gave him a look and then had a seat.

The two stared at the tree together. Sam saw the two little gifts but didn't comment on them. After two minutes of absolute silence Sam finally broke the ice.

"It's a nice little tree," he said.

"Yes it is," Dean replied.

"Dinner was really awesome tonight."

"The food was great."

"It's too bad you hair turned blue."

"Yeah, it…what..huh?" Dean exclaimed.

Sam smiled. "Dean what's going on? You're acting really weird."

"I just…I thought maybe we should…you know…talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, you know, where we each open our mouths and these things called words spill out."

"Dean, you're scaring me," Sam replied, but there was a teasing ring to his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes. Shit, this talking crap was hard. Why couldn't Sammy just realize that when he killed the bad guys trying to hurt him, or carried his ass out of a cellar filled with skeletons that was his way of showing Sam how much he cared? Why couldn't Sam see that actions spoke louder than words?

"Dean, honestly, what's going on?" The smile had left Sam's face and he was beginning to look concerned.

"I know I don't like getting all emotional, and I'm sorry if I've sometimes hurt you by telling you to shut up or drop something when you needed to talk about it."

"Wow," Sam gasped and crinkled his brows. "Where did that come from?"

"It's just, I know at times things have been awkward between us since the mad doctor scrambled your head, and that you…you blame yourself for a lot of things and I haven't really given you a chance to get that stuff off you chest."

"I…I don't…uh," Sam couldn't believe it, for the first time Dean was starting a chick flick moment and Sam was suddenly speechless. He had rehearsed the things he wanted to say to Dean when the time was right over and over and all that rehearsing had been for nothing because he was drawing a blank.

"Sam, I don't blame you for anything that happened in the asylum. It wasn't you. I know that now. Part of me knew it even back then, but I was kind of pissed off."

"That's an understatement," Sam replied. "I just wish I had been stronger…that I could have fought it, and that I hadn't hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, the evil doc did. Besides, with as often as you get hurt I guess it was just my turn that night."

"I'm sorry about the guilt trip I laid on you tonight at the shelter," Sam said. "I just really didn't want you to leave me. I know you were just looking out for me, but ever since the asylum, I think part of me has been afraid that you wouldn't want me around anymore, that you wouldn't be able to trust me anymore."

"Sam, I trust you with my life. You've had my back and proved yourself many times. You need to not be so hard on yourself."

The two entered another moment of silence as both struggled to find something to say next. Finally the tension was getting to Dean and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm sorry you aren't going to have your perfect normal life. I'm sorry you have the shinning and that Dad has disappeared on us. I feel like I did this to you and it sucks and you have no idea how badly I wish I could trade places with you so you would be free to walk away."

"Whoa, Dean, stop. You…you didn't do this to me. I've never blamed you and…and I think that maybe…maybe I need to stop blaming myself. I'm…none of this was ever really in our control. Our lives…they were pretty much predetermined the night mom died. I tried to run away, but I know now that I'll never have a different kind of life."

"But this life doesn't have to be all bad," Dean said, trying desperately to give Sammy some of that hope he needed to hang on to. "I think…uh…we need to start doing other things once in a while."

"Other things?" Sam questioned and shook his head in confusion.

"Yeah, you know, like…go see the Grand Canyon."

"Dean, you hate camping."

"I'm not talking about camping! I'm saying that I know you need a break every now and then."

"What like take a vacation?" Sam chuckled.

"Sure, why not."

"Dean, you wouldn't even know what to do with yourself if we went on vacation."

"I'm not saying we have to make a week long trip out it or anything, but you know, when a job is done, if there is something…fun…something close by, we should stop…enjoy a day off. Like, if we're in Tennessee we could see Graceland or if we're in Florida we can go to Disney World. You know…do something that doesn't involve weapons."

"With our luck we would go to Disney World and get attacked by ghost pirates on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride."

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," Dean moaned. "See! This is why I don't do chick flick moments! Let's just set the record straight so I don't have to do this again any time soon. I love you! You're my baby brother and I love you…always…even when you piss me off, even when you are driving me crazy…like right now…and even when you get possessed and shoot me with rock salt! Can we stop this now? Please!"

"Dean?"

"What!"

"I love you too," Sam said with a grin.

Dean opened his mouth to let out some snarky comment but no words came. He closed his mouth and sighed. As crazy as it sounded, he felt better.

"Can we go to sleep now?" Sam asked. "I'm really tired and I think I might actually be able to sleep tonight."

Dean smiled and ruffled Sam's shaggy mop. "Yeah, let's get some shut eye."

Dean stood up and took several steps toward their room but stopped when he saw Sam wasn't right behind him. He looked back to see Sam looking through his bag. Then Sam pulled out two small presents and set them under the tree next to the ones Dean had laid down. Finally Sam turned around and the two went back to their room to get some much needed sleep.