Chapter Twenty One
Dean stirred in his sleep, the dream morphing from the cabin to the makeshift cell, back to the cabin via a trip to Dr Ellicott's basement. All the images which had bombarded his mind for so long were beginning to take on a surreal quality. For the first time in months he was watching the events as an outsider, rather than re-living them over and over again. He watched as his father stared him down with golden eyes, the doorways to hell, watched as Sam stood over him with the gun, watched as the blood ran from his chest to collect on the floor by his immobile feet. Yet he felt it all through a haze of safety, a distance so long in coming and so needed that , although scared and in pain, he was able to breathe. For once the dream didn't steal his oxygen. He was vaguely aware of a warmth above his eyes. Gravity keeping him earthbound.
Sam watched his brother carefully as the dream seemed to recede, he kept his hand on his brother's brow, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth, gently shushing each time the dream attempted to assault and drown his brother in memories. Slowly Dean's features softened and his breathing evened.
"It's ok bro, you just sleep and dream of that Yvette girl, all those moves you said she could do, or maybe dream of those twins, the ones with the dark hair, what were their names? Ah yeah, Kay and Louise, they both had quite a thing for you bro"
Dean sighed heavily and turned his head toward Sam, he settled and once again his breathing calmed and his brow relaxed.
Sam stood and went to the bathroom, satisfied Dean would sleep for a while longer. He always managed to calm the dream, if he caught Dean within it's depths. A gentle rub of his brother's face and some soothing words never failed to help him escape the clutch of the nightmare. He'd never told Dean though. His brother needed to pretend all was ok now and he was fine. Sam would give him that. He was a firm believer in mind over matter so if Dean was convinced he was getting stronger , even if Sam knew his sleep was a different matter, he'd be all the more positive for the belief. Dean walked forward more confident now than he had the weeks after that night.
Sam splashed water across his face and turned the shower onto full power. He stepped under the stream and allowed the warm water to ease his muscles and the stress of the past two days.
Did his father know what he was sending his sons into? Those little messages, the texts. So innocent in nature yet so violent in behaviour. Did he ever stop to think that maybe they weren't safe going up against these things without more backup? Or did he trust his boys and their abilities so much, so implicitly that he didn't need to worry or check in?
Either way Sam was pissed at him.
As the water seeped into his bones the memories of all the hunts that could have gone so wrong flashed through his mind and sunk their teeth into his soul.
The Wendigo, he almost lost Dean.
The asylum, he'd almost killed Dean.
The orchard with the scarecrow , Dean.
The Shtriga.
And now the vampires.
Did his father understand what he was doing? Did he really think he'd never need to check up on them.
Not once, not ever had he called to find out if the hunt had gone ok, if the boys were safe, alive.
He didn't even call when he knew Dean was dying after the electrocution.
As the memories of all the times when it could have gone so wrong sunk into Sam's eyes he lashed out and smashed his fist against the wall, biting back a yelp as pain instantly began to flow through his knuckles and into his arm.
He clenched his eyes tight, willing the pain to work through his nerves, to settle his emotions and ease his mind. Pain could always be focused on, used as a tool to control the panic.
Breathing deep Sam looked down at his split knuckles.
They'd be ok, they were always ok, they didn't need John. They'd managed so well up to now. If it took his life Sam was going to ensure Dean didn't come any closer to dying than he already had. His brother had protected him his entire life, practically raised him, and what had his father done? Walked away.
Wiping the residual blood from the wall, Sam finished his shower and dried off, dressed, and found himself standing over his sleeping sibling. Once again watching the rise and fall of his chest, savouring the certainty that he was alive, breathing.
His eyes fell upon the amulet resting on his brother's body. Images from the hospital seeped into Sam's mind as he remembered cleaning the small piece of metal. Clearing it of the red hue that had embedded it's fingerprints across the smooth surface. He had cleaned the necklace of blood and carefully rested it back around his brother's neck, at that point he still had no idea if Dean would wake up.
But he had.
And a good thing too, Sam had already decided what was going to happen should his brother slip quietly away from him.
That wasn't a path he ever wanted his mind to walk again.
Dean sighed again in his sleep and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"So you are dreaming of those girls" whispered Sam, smoothing back Dean's hair as he spoke.
Sam's stomach growled loudly and he stepped back, embarrassed at the volume. Dean stayed sleeping, oblivious to his brother's hunger.
Sam made his way toward Grace's kitchen, a small skip in his step as he smelt the bacon wafting upon the air toward him, the closer he came to the smell the more his stomach grumbled in anticipation.
Sam opened the door to the reception and side stepped the desk, making his way into the kitchen. He paused as he noticed the bacon burning in the pan on the stove.
Sam paused as he noticed the coffee spilled across the floor, trailing it's way toward the centre of the room, almost as if the liquid had witnessed an atrocity and was attempting to hide beneath the table.
Sam paused as Kate raised the knife higher, laid the blade against Grace's throat, tears of red fell across her pale complexion as the blade began to cut into the skin.
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I know it's an evil cliffhanger...but...MUHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!