Title: Helicopters
Author: Oldach's Dream
Summary: It was a second nature, an instinct. Get in car. Close door. Reach for belt buckle. It was automatic. It wasn't supposed to save his life. It wasn't supposed to be the reason his best friend was inches from death.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Supernatural.
Rating: T or PG 13
Chapter Four: Then it Changed Back
The next day dawned bleak and miserable, which Dean thought was morbidly appropriate. After his breakdown the night before, Sam had fallen into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning all night but thankfully not waking until late this afternoon. Dean had stayed at his side all night. Nodding off here and there, only to be jerked back awake at the slightest shift in movement from Sam.
Their dad had made himself scarce since their fight, hiding in the cafeteria drinking coffee, was Dean's guess. Yet for all he knew, John could of driven back to Cleveland and had another go at the uber- ghost, Dean didn't care all that much, as long as he stayed far away from Sam.
Logically, Dean realized that John was their father, and he would eventually have to speak to his youngest son, but Dean had been feeling so protective since the night before. The need to keep his little brother away from hurt out weighed everything else, including logic.
Sam had barely spoken since he had woken up that morning, which had Dean worried. Sam was either avoiding discussion or avoiding Dean. Although he highly doubted it was the latter. In truth, Sam had been uncharacteristically clingy since his meltdown. Not in a way that would be obvious to anyone who didn't know him, but it was very apparent to Dean.
Sam usually desired compete and total independence, from anyone or anything that dare tried to tell him what to do; but he hadn't been that person for the last couple hours. He'd been sticking closely to his brother. Not wanting to leave the same room, letting him speak when the nurse came in to check on him one last time, ensuring that he was indeed healthy enough to be released. He was being quiet too, like he was scared or, well, in mourning. Which made sense, Dean realized, but he still he didn't like seeing his baby brother so broken.
"Time to get out of here." Dr. Kurt's voice was immediately recognizable when he entered the room. Dean wondered absently if this man ever went home. A quick, almost subconscious, glance at his hand informed him that the doctor wasn't married.
An entire life devoted to helping other people. Doctor's were a lot like Winchester's. Maybe, Dean thought, I should appreciate that more. Just because they fight things that people actually believe in, it doesn't make their jobs any less a part of who they are.
Sam was sitting upright on the bed, his arm was still in the sling, as it would be for a few weeks. His head was down, allowing his long bangs to fall forward into his face. Dad had yelled at Sam so many times about his shaggy hair, said it would be a hindrance during battle. As far as Dean could tell, though, it had never bothered him in the least.
Sam shot a glance at his older brother, who was standing at the foot of the bed, with an essence similar to that of a watchdog. Dean knew immediately what he was asking and looked at Dr. Kurt questioningly. "Where's our dad?"
"Your father has already filled out the forms stating that Sam is free to go. I believe he's waiting by the exit. He was looking rather impatient when I passed him earlier." The doctor crossed his arms in front of the clip board he was holding.
"Okay." Dean nodded. "I guess we'll..."
"Actually, Sam." Dr. Kurt interrupted and Sam looked up at him. "We finally heard from Alex's relatives."
Dean's head whipped from the doctor to his little brother, not knowing what to expect and ready to get angry and defensive on Sammy's behalf.
Sam, however, just nodded slightly in the doctor's direction, indicating that he wanted to hear whatever he had to say.
"They live in Texas." Dr. Kurt smirked slightly, and surprisingly enough, so did Sam. Dean wondered if there was something he'd missed, but didn't question it. "They've arranged for his body to be flown down there, so they can hold the funeral."
Sam nodded, Dean wanted to say something comforting and reassuring, but Sam's head snapped up before he got the chance.
"What about Alex's roommates. His friends. Do they know..." Sam trailed off and Dean took a step closer to him.
"They were contacted last night by Dr. Grandel, around the same time he called," he nodded in Dean's direction. "Your brother."
"Oh," Sam said. "Right."
"Do you want to go to the funeral?" Dean asked bluntly.
Sam turned to face him, his mouth opened, then shut. He looked so conflicted and Dean guessed he was thinking about their father and the fight he had heard last night between him and Dean. After a moment he simply shrugged, it seemed like he lacked the energy to do anything else.
"I could get dad..." Dean didn't know whether he was going to say he could get dad to let him go, or he could talk him into letting them take the car. Luckily he didn't have to figure it out, as he was cut off by Sam's bitter, biting comment.
"Dad can go screw himself."
Well, Dean thought. At least he still had enough energy to be angry. That had to be a good sign, right?
"Okay." Dean nodded simply, not missing a beat. "Then I can take you. If you want to go Sammy, I can get you there."
"It's in four days." Dr. Kurt added helpfully. His eyes had been darting back and forth between the two brothers and Dean had honestly forgotten he was there. He nodded in his direction, and the doctor continued, concerned eyes focused on the youngest Winchester. "Funerals sometimes provide the closure we need, Sam. To help us move on with our lives after we loose someone we care about." he stepped over to Dean and handed him a folded piece of computer paper. "This is the address of Alex's relatives, and the directions to their house from here and a list of airports with available flights."
The only sign that Sam had heard the words at all came in the form of his eyes darting to the window on the other side of the room. It was still cloudy and drizzling slightly, making it appear as if it were still extremely early morning; not almost noon.
"We'll consider it, Doc." Dean answered for Sam, knowing his little brother wouldn't.
"Alright." he replied after a moment, finally pulling his concerned eyes away from the two brothers. "Then your free to go. Take care of yourself."
He shot a meaningful look in Dean's direction before leaving the room, to which Dean smiled and nodded firmly to. He would take care of his brother. No matter what.
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Sam sat quietly in the back seat of the car. He had said nothing to his father, save a mumbled 'fine' since he had seen the man after being released from the hospital. He'd had the strongest urge to ask Dean to sit in the backseat with him, but suppressed it, knowing his father would mock his childishness.
He watched the gloomy day zoom past his window. He tried to focus on it and nothing else.
Which was becoming increasingly difficult to accomplish. The feeling in the car was reminiscent of the one in the hospital room the night before. The tension was thick between his brother and their father.
Yet he could think of nothing but Alex. Who was dead. Dead. Death. It was such a stupid word. They should of made up a more respectful word when they were deciding what to call it, when someone disappeared from the world entirely.
Death. It rhymed with breath. Breathing was something you only got to do when you were alive. So it really wasn't right that those two words were so similar. Although die rhymed with sky, which is supposedly where you went once you died. Maybe that was the logic in creating the word. Then again, once you died, you never saw the sky again. Which also seemed unfair.
The rain soaked road continued to pass by outside his window. He attempted, for a few minutes, to count the white markings that separated the two lane street as they flew by. It was giving him a headache though, so he stopped before he even reached fifty.
He noted absently that he was once again in a car. Wearing a seatbelt. Shouldn't he be having some type nervous flashback? He'd had a panic attack the night before, how is it that getting a car for the first time, only hours after the accident that had killed Alex, wasn't frightening?
He had no idea. Although this did explain the worried, anxious look Dean had thrown him when they had made their way out to their dad's battered, old '79 Crown Victoria. Here Sam thought it was just his brother's over protectiveness acting up, as it had been all night.
He couldn't say he wasn't grateful for it though. He knew he'd been leaning on Dean a lot, but his brother had taken over the roll of protector easily. As he always did, as he was taught to do.
Sam wanted to think his brother would be the same way, even if the had the most standard of lives. With a normal mom and dad, no supernatural hunts, a white picket fence, all that crap that made Dean want to vomit.
Would his brother still be the same guy? Would Sam? Would he still have know Alex? Would Alex still be dead? Would Sam be dead as well, if putting on a seatbelt hadn't been engrained into his childhood as it had been?
Pointless, painful questions such as these had been swirling through Sam's head for far too long. He wanted to tell them to shut up, that it didn't make a difference. Alex was dead, and nothing would change that. But he wasn't ready to face the reality of that yet, so he took the questions and meaningless 'what ifs' and hid behind them. Away from the truth.
"We're moving." John's voice was sudden and abrupt, causing both of his children to jump slightly. He ignored it though, and kept talking. "I'm driving back to Cleveland tonight to finish the job we were on before. When I get back, I expect you two to have everything necessary packed. There's been a cluster of supernatural activity around a city in Montana, so we'll be staying there for a while."
"We're leaving now!" Dean asked ludicrously.
"That's what I just said." John snapped. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Yeah!" Dean exclaimed. "Of course I..."
"Your out of line son." John said dangerously. "I'll forget what happened last night, the circumstances being what they were. But don't think you'll get way with speaking to me like that ever again."
Sam could tell that their dad was testing Dean, to see how much of a hold he still had over him. He'd done the same thing when Sam was 12 or 13. The first time they'd gotten into a major fight. It was sad that he had to use the same tactics on his twenty year old son, that he had used on a pre adolescent kid.
"What I said last night was true and you were out of line." Dean remained calm, but Sam could detect a hint of underlying fear.
"I don't think so Dean. Don't forget, I'm still your father, whether you like it or not, and you have to listen to me." John warned.
Sam knew where it would go from there. John would continue to taunt him, until Dean either backed down or got angry. If he backed down, that was it, their father had won. If he got angry, they would continue to fight until one stormed off, or John issued some kind of ultimatum.
While their arguing was taking his mind away from his own thoughts, something Sam was grateful for, he didn't want to drive a wedge any farther between them. He'd been proud of Dean last night for standing up for himself, but now he just felt guilty that he'd been the one to cause all this in the first place.
"It's fine." Sam interrupted. "Let's move to Montana. I don't care."
"Sammy..." Dean turned in his seat to try and catch his eye, but he ignored him.
"Really, I'd rather get out of this town anyway." he insisted, still starring out the window.
"There!" John said, ignoring his eldest son's half hearted protests. "That settles it. Montana it is."
The rest of the car ride passed with no incident, just thick tension that Sam was all too happy to ignore.
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"Don't Dean." Sam warned. They had arrived back at the apartment minutes before. Sam had gone into his room, to begin packing, Dean had followed. Their father was still outside, reloading the car for his impending hunt.
"Don't what?" Dean asked innocently.
"Don't say whatever it is you wanna say." Sam said. "Don't preach, don't lecture, don't yell at me. And don't fight with dad. Let's just go back to the way things were before last night, okay?"
"Ah, no Sammy, it's not okay." Dean stood solidly in the center of the room, watching Sam pull open drawers and shuffle through his tiny closet.
"Don't call me Sammy." he added.
"Sam," he sighed. "Things aren't the same as they were."
"No shit Sherlock." he snapped. "But I want them to be."
"Tough." he said simply. "They aren't gonna be, and you can't run from that."
"Really?" Sam questioned. "Cause Montana is pretty far away."
"I know, which is why we shouldn't go." Dean argued.
"I don't think we get a choice in the matter." Sam reminded him. He was shuffling through T-shirts with his good hand. "Is this your Black Sabbath T-shirt?"
"Yeah." he said distractedly. "And we always have a choice in the matter."
"Why do I have your T-shirt?" Sam asked, ignoring everything else his brother said.
"I mean it Sam, we don't have to go to Montana. And you can go to Alex's funeral, in fact I think..."
"I don't want to go the funeral." he snapped. Although in truth he hadn't thought about it, been avoiding thinking about it, really. "And I do want to get out of this city."
"Getting out of the city isn't going change anything." Dean said. "It isn't going to stop me and dad, or even you and dad, from fighting."
"I know." Sam said tightly.
"It isn't going to erase what happened."
"Dean..." Sam warned, expressing in that one word how much he wanted his brother to stop.
"It isn't going to bring Alex back, or make you miss him any less."
"God Dean!" he shouted angrily. "For a guy who doesn't like mushy, chick flick moments, you sure as hell initiate enough of them."
"I'm not gonna let you run away from this." he said.
"Why not?" Sam asked childishly. "What difference does it make?"
"You want to turn out like dad? Look at what mom's death did to him."
"I'm not dad." Sam said fiercely. "And I never will be."
"You hope." His brother said almost flippantly.
Sam rushed at Dean before he had time to think about it, using his good arm to pin the shorter, yet stronger, man to the wall. He saw the slight surprise in his eyes, but Dean made no effort to fight back, he only raised his eyebrows slightly.
"I. Am. Not. Dad." Sam seethed, his voice deep yet his eyes held unmasked pleading. "I can't be."
After a moment he released his brother and backed away shakily. Rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry, I..."
"It's alright." Dean said, shaking himself out. And Sam knew it was, he knew Dean wouldn't be angry at him for being emotional, no matter what form it came in.
"I..." For a moment Sam had nothing to say. Then he said the only thing he could think of, hoping it would dispel the tension in the room. "You should pack. We only have a day or two to get everything together."
"Yeah." Dean said, and Sam could hear an infliction in his brother's voice, the emotion behind which he could not place. "Yeah, I guess I should." A beat later he walked out of the room.
Sam sighed and sat down on his bed, amongst the scattered contents of his wardrobe. Plus Dean's T-shirt, he noted absently.
He thought he'd gotten his way when Dean left the room without further protest. He hadn't thought about it before, but he didn't want to go Alex's funeral. Did he? Dean had let the subject go, and that's what he wanted. Right?
He had no idea anymore. The only real emotion he could identify was this empty one. One that made him feel like he had to do something, but every time he thought about doing something, he wanted to burst into tears or beat something up.
This was the feeling people generally chased away with drugs and alcohol or sex or crime. It was what his dad chased away by battling evil things and seeking vengeance, and teaching his sons to do the same.
Grief. He thought as he laid down on his bed, ignoring the piles of clothes and shutting his eyes.
He had just defined grief.
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Dean hung up the phone, a satisfying click echoing throughout the empty living room.
Their father had left for Cleveland, as he said he was going to, a few hours before. Dean hadn't heard a sound out of his brother's room since their conversation earlier. But a quick peek inside few hours earlier had informed him that Sam had fallen asleep.
Now Dean was faced with the task of waking him up. Something that was extremely easy to do, as both of them were trained to be light sleepers. Yet something he hated the thought of doing, as he knew how much his younger brother probably needed the rest.
He shook off his guilt however, thinking that what he was doing was more important. It might make Sammy hate him forever, but it was more important.
He took a seat on the edge of his brother's bed once he entered the room, much the same way he had done at the hospital. He placed a hand on his non-injured shoulder and shook him lightly.
"Come on, little brother, time to wake up." It was the gentlest Dean had ever been in waking him up. Not that it shocked him, he'd been incredibly, and uncharacteristically, sweet towards Sam lately. Guilt, understanding and protectiveness could do that to a guy.
"...what..." He said groggily, lifting his head slightly towards his brother's voice.
"I said, time to get up." Dean repeated, he brushed a little hair out of Sam's eyes and thought briefly that maybe he should entertain the idea of getting it trimmed a bit. "We got places to go."
"Dad..." His voice was only slightly more coherent, and questioning.
"Dad's halfway to Cleveland." Dean said. "We've got places to go."
"What are you talking about?" Sam sat halfway up and winced openly.
"What's up?" Dean asked concerned. "Does your shoulder hurt?"
"Naw," Sam said, half yawning and stretching, half trying to face Dean. "I fell asleep on a lumpy pile of clothes. You try it sometime and tell me how it feels when you wake up."
He chuckled slightly, relieved that at least Sam didn't seem to hold any type of grudge from their earlier dramatics.
"Good, cause its time to get your lazy ass up. Get dressed, we're going out."
"I'm really not in the mood to go out." Sam said, looking down and playing with a thread on one of his shirts.
"Come on," Dean pleaded. "It'll be good for you. Plus there's something I want you to see."
"Can't you show it to me here?" Sam was close to whining.
"If I could, I would." He explained slowly. "But it's not here. Come on. Up dressed and ready to go in ten minutes or else."
"Or else what?" Only now Sam's tone was accepting and almost light, he was already moving to get off the bed.
"You don't want to know." Dean said hopping off the bed and smacking his little brother's knee. "Now get moving."
Fifteen minutes later found them walking briskly down the street. The almost winter like weather dictated what they wore, more so than any fashion impulse might of. Dean had his ever present black leather jacket. While Sam layered up comfortably in a hoodie beneath a heavy jean jacket. Both had their hands shoved deeply into their pockets.
"So your not planning on telling me where we're going?" Sam confirmed, his breath coming out in little puffs.
"Nope." Dean smirked. "We'll be there soon."
So the two brothers walked in comfortable silence. Dean wondered if he was doing the right thing, or if was making the biggest mistake of his life. He knew Sam was at a critical point right now, and he had seen his brother deal with grief before. Granted, grief on a much smaller scale, but grief all the same, and Sam always reacted the same way. He ran away. He ignored it.
Dean had never tried before to get him to change that, he figured everyone had their own ways of dealing. It's not like Dean was the most open and sharing person, and he rather liked his brother's lack of interest in having heart to heart conversations, newly dubbed; chick flick moments.
This was different. This wasn't some random innocent Sammy had seen get murdered on a job. This wasn't something that would get drowned out by their next task, the next thing they killed, the next time they succeeded in saving someone. More importantly, this wasn't something he could get closure from by killing the thing that had caused it.
He couldn't shoot or perform an exorcism on the car Alex had been driving. He couldn't hunt down and kill the guy who'd been behind the wheel of the car that had smashed into them; as that drunken loser had died on impact.
Dean wasn't the smartest guy in the world, he didn't possess the book smarts Sam did, he wasn't even up to par with their dad's knowledge of the paranormal, but he knew his brother. He knew Sam would want closure, and he'd be resentful later if he didn't get it now.
So, yes, Dean knew he was doing the right thing.
That knowledge however, didn't take away from the nervous feeling coursing throughout his body however, and he swallowed thickly.
"We're here." Dean announced, relieved that he no longer had to wallow in his self doubt.
Sam looked around when they stopped walking, confused. They were standing on a main street, many random little stores surrounded them.
Glancing at Dean, he shook his head. "I don't get it."
The older brother gestured across the busy street.
"A gas station?" Sam asked, still sounding rather befuddled.
"Not just a gas station." Dean explained as the light changed and the traffic stopped, allowing them to continue in that direction. "A gas station slash Auto Repair shop."
"I still don't get it." Sam said.
"You know, sometimes you can be really dense." he teased lightly.
"Well excuse me for not being able to read your mind." he snapped, then considered it. "Did you get a job?"
"Try again."
"Did you... No, you didn't. Dean." Sam paused. "Tell me you didn't buy a car."
"That I did little brother." Dean couldn't help but smile, displaying all his perfectly white teeth.
Sam looked astounded. "Does... does dad know?"
"Nope."
"Dude, you really are turning into the bad son."
"I was gonna tell him." he said. "I just never got around to it, and, I don't know..." he trailed off shrugging.
"So, what kind of car is it?" Sam sounded hesitantly interested.
"1967 Chevy Impala." he answered proudly. "Bought it off some idiot who didn't know anything about cars for only a couple hundred bucks. I paid the guy here to let me store it, until I could get it all fixed up."
"Well, let's see it." Sam motioned for them to enter the garage and couldn't help smiling at his brother's enthusiasm. Dean had always had a car fetish.
"Hey Burt!" he called to a middle aged man with a beer belly. He was sporting the attire you would expect of a mechanic, grease stained overalls and a rag slung over his shoulder.
"Dean!" he shouted back, and made his way over. "Good to see ya"
They did the macho guy handshake thing before Dean spoke again.
"Burt, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is the guy who brought my baby to life."
Burt laughed as he shook Sam's hand, "Ah, he's bein' modest. Your brother here did most a the work. I just made a few last minute repairs."
"Does that mean she's ready to go?" Dean asked hopefully.
"Yup," Burt nodded and pointed in the direction of the car "I even waxed it for ya, just cause I like ya."
"You make me all warm and toasty inside Burt." he smirked. "What do I owe you?"
"For the repairs and the oil change, plus this week's storage fee, it's an even one fifty."
As Dean counted out the bills and handed them over to Burt, Sam took a closer look at the car. Sam wasn't as obsessed with vehicles as his brother was, but he knew a good car when he saw one. And this Impala was impressive. Painted black, with the black leather interior, spacious trunk, perfect for storing weapons of all kinds. Sam was circling the car as his brother walked over.
It screamed Dean, that was unmistakable. If cars and people could find each other like soul mates, Sam was sure these two were a match made in Heaven.
"What do you think?" Dean asked.
"It's a frekin' awesome car." Sam said sincerely. "I'm just wondering how you're gonna explain it to dad."
"I'm a grown man, Sam I can get a car if I want. Besides, I don't care what dad thinks."
"Yeah you do." He shrugged when he caught the look Dean shot him. "It's alright, it's understandable. I care what he thinks too. I hate him sometimes, but the stuff that he says still hurts. That's gotta mean I care, right?"
Dean was amazed at how casually Sam could say those words, shrugging as if it took him nothing to figure out the logic behind them.
"You should try being a shrink." Dean's words made him look up, confusion written all over his features. "All that insightful shit and what not."
"Yeah, okay." Sam just shrugged, but something changed in his brother's facial expression, something Dean could not place, but it was gone before he could look again.
"Anyway," Sam went on. "Other than the fight your gonna have with dad about it, I think it's great. We gonna take it for a test drive?" Dean could tell by his voice that Sam assumed this was Dean's way of trying to make him feel better, distract him.
"Yeah." Dean said happily. "To Texas."
Sam jerked slightly, his eyes snapping to Dean. "What?"
"We're going to Texas." he said simply. The feeling of self doubt that had been present before came back full force, but Dean didn't let it in. "Your going to Alex's funeral."
Sam whipped his head around, making sure no one had heard Dean's words, as he had always hated pity. But Burt had gone back inside the little gas station and as far as he could tell, there was no one else around.
"No I'm not." Sam hissed.
"Why not?" Dean asked, trying to stay calm, he knew getting mad or ordering Sam to do as he said wouldn't accomplish anything, except getting his little brother to hate him forever, and he was dangerously close to doing that as it was.
"Because." Sam said.
"Great answer." Dean replied sarcastically.
"I just don't want to go."
"Well I think you should."
"Why?" Sam snapped.
"I want to work on my tan." Dean couldn't help but add a little humor. It made him relax slightly.
"You can do that in Montana." Sam argued.
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "But your best friend's funereal isn't in Montana."
Sam sighed, but Dean could see that fierce streak of opposition that had been there moments before, had faded into one of resignation. It sparked a flare of hope in him.
"Dad's gonna be back in less than two days, We'll be in Texas way longer than that."
"I don't care." Dean assured him. "Don't make dad an issue."
"I don't want you two to fight anymore." Sam paused. "Actually, I wouldn't mind it. But I don't want it to be about me."
Dean smirked at his brother's honesty. "I don't mind fighting with him."
"Liar." Sam shot.
"Okay, so it irks me a little, but look at it like this," Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and back slightly on the balls of his feet, he was so close to getting through to him. "You have, what? Like five or six years worth of fights with dad? I've got about a day's worth. You're way ahead, and you know I can't let you out do me."
Sam laughed whole heartedly at his brother's logic. Dean was relieved to hear that Sam still had it in him to laugh like that. He shook his head, almost lovingly, and for a second didn't say anything.
The laughter died from his face, but his eyes remained more clear than they had been in a while. He looked pensive, biting his lip subconsciously.
After a minute or two, during which Dean could literally hear his heart pounding in his ears, Sam looked up.
"Okay." he said simply.
"Okay?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised slightly. His brother could be so damn stubborn sometimes, he really wasn't expecting it to be this easy.
"Yeah, I... I do want to go. I think." he sighed and looked conflicted. "I don't want to not go now and wish later on that I had, you know?"
"Yeah." Dean said softly. "I kinda had that in mind when I decided this would be a good idea."
"And when did you decide that?" Sam asked curiously.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck and replied sheepishly, "On the car ride home earlier, when dad said he'd be going out of town without us."
"Sneaky little bastard." Sam smirked.
"Damn straight. No get your ass in my car."
The two brothers slid into the cool, leather seats, marveling at how right it felt. Dean, for the first time in his life, understood what Sam was referring to when he said he had a gut feeling, and he knew how he could trust them so much.
He got the greatest sense of attachment, sitting in that car wit his brother. He didn't know why, but he felt as if this was meant to be.
Him and Sam; in this car.
"I like it." Sam nodded his approval from the passenger's seat.
"Me too, Sammy." he said lightly as he shifted the Impala into gear for the first time. Marveling at how it came to life. "Now lets hit the road."
End Chapter.
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