A.N: Hello again. First off, to all those who reviewed: thank you, it means so much to me that my work is enjoyed. Your feed back is much appreciated.
Summery: Dean finds something kind of disturbing, and realizes that he must make an effort to help Sam with his issues.
Disclaimer: We already went over this, porno remember?
A tenuous step towards sanity.
Chapter 2.
Sam is in the shower when I wake up, and I can't help but on some level be grateful for that because I'm not sure what I can do to remove the guilt and fear from my brother's shoulders, and if there's one thing I really hate its being helpless.
I know he's afraid, and that knowledge hurts, like a knife in the heart, but I'm afraid too. Not of him or his abilities, I could never be afraid of Sam, no matter how many mutant powers he gets, I'm scared of what he'll do to himself.
I know that Sam will never be like Max, but Sam doesn't trust himself not to lose control, and I also know that Sammy would do anything, anything, to keep from hurting someone, and that scares me. What if one day he decides the world is better off without him? Sam's the kind of guy who does what he thinks is best for everyone else; he's just to fucking selfless.
I sigh, running my hand through my hair, I have to find a way to help him, and as much as I know he'd like it, I don't think singing his praises is really going to make a difference.
I'm staring at the floor like I've never seen one before, and it takes me couple of minutes to realize that there's something metal shining in the early morning sunlight, cuz' I wasn't actually seeing the ground in front of me, to lost in my thoughts. The thing is almost completely hidden by the nightstand, its laying in the small space between the stand and Sammy's bed so I can't get a good look at it. I stretch out my leg and snag it with my toes, dragging it towards me, to lazy to get up off the edge of the bed where I'm sitting. When it's close enough I bend over and pick it up, but even though I can see it clearly now I still have no idea what the hell it is.
It takes me a long moment to realize that it's a spoon, twisted and bent in impossible ways. And not just any spoon, it's my spoon, the one I stole from a diner a couple months ago in a sudden bout of kleptomania. It happens. The one I held up to Sam after he told me about the cabinet moving. Why I kept it all of these months I have no idea, maybe I'm crazy.
I told him to bend it, guess he listened to me. My head feels like it's full of bees, buzzing around and creating all sorts of fucking ungodly noise and making it hard to think. I don't know if I can handle this, and I can handle a whole hell of a lot.
Demons? No sweat. Boggarts? Barely worth my time. Wendigos? Piece of cake. Ghosts? I can deal with them in my sleep, and have, on occasion. My little brother's freaky-ass powers and a mutilated kitchen utensil? No fucking clue.
And if I can't deal, how hard must this be for Sam? The idea of Sammy having to go through this on his own is unbearable to me, there has to be some way for me to help.
My eyes fall on the spoon again, and suddenly an idea comes to me, making me grin. Obviously Sam deliberately practiced his telekinesis last night after I went to bed, so maybe I could help him gain control of his powers? It's glaringly apparent that he wants to, and I want to help him, even if it means going deep into uncharted territory and living with Mr. Cleo.
Now that I have a plan, even if it is a rather vague one, I can concentrate on other important things; like coffee. I dress quickly, and then knock on the door just as the shower shuts off.
"Yeah?" Sam asks through the door.
"Hurry up, I want coffee."
"You always want coffee." That makes me grin, my little brother knows me to well.
About half an hour later we're back in the hotel room, sitting next to each other at the crappy hotel table looking for our next job, and I figure it's as good a time as any to confront Sam on his Neo impression. I pull the disfigured spoon from my pocket and put on the keyboard of his laptop, where he can't possibly ignore it. He gets really still, and I can see the wheels in his head turning, trying to produce a plausible lie.
'Don't bother Sammy.' I want to tell him, but I'm actually kind of curious about what his excuse is going to be, so I don't.
"What's that?" Ah, when in doubt, play at ignorance. I'm disappointed at his lack of creativity, but not surprised, Sammy has always sucked at lying.
"I was kind of hoping you could tell me, after all, it was on the floor next to your bed." It's not as direct as I would have liked, but its hard for me come out and say things that could lead to an emotional moment, always has been, and really, what the hell am I supposed to say?
'Hey Sam, this wouldn't happen to be a spoon you bent with your freaky mind powers, would it? Oh it is? That's what I thought, so here's what we're gonna do, you and I are gonna work together to get this under control so you can go back to being your normal boring, broody self, okay? Okay.'
Yeah, riiiiight, that would go over so well. Sam is shaking his head, still determined to pretend he doesn't know shit. I'm getting annoyed, I've never been a very patient person, and Sam has the special talent of blowing through what little of it I do have.
"Maybe it was left here by a former guest." He's still trying to pull the wool over my eyes.
"Damn it Sam, I know you pulled a fucking Matrix on that spoon, so cut the crap." Huh, I can be direct, who knew?
"If I'm Neo who does that make you?" He asks, smirking like this is so fucking hilarious. Diversionary tactic, the part of my brain that sounds like my Dad whispers. Sorry little bro, you won't get out of this that easily.
"Morpheus, and don't change the fucking subject." Have I mentioned that I have no patience? I have? Oh so an understatement.
He laughs a little, but then looks at my face, and it must have been hella scary because suddenly he isn't laughing and he seems damn serious, and its 'bout fucking time. Then he swallows and looks away, a combination that is always guaranteed to make me feel guilty, even if I haven't done anything wrong. But dammed if I'm going to let that stop me from helping him, this is important, and way to big for my little Sammy to handle on his own, even if he is twenty two and at least four inches taller than me, he's still my little Sammy, and I'm still his big brother, charged with his care and destined to protect him.
"So what if I did?" His voice is quiet, and there's something there, a tone, accusatory and defensive and sad and…fearful? Shit, why the hell is that there? Any type of apprehension or worry sounds so wrong in Sam's voice, and I promised myself a long time ago that I'd kick the ass of anyone or anything that put that sound in his voice, but how the hell do I kick my own ass?
"Sam, why didn't you just tell me?" Not what I want so say, but I'm sorry has always been too hard for me to articulate and that's not ever gonna change.
He looks up and smiles and I must have imagined the anxiety in his voice because there's no trace of it on his face now, just mirth and embarrassment.
"I was kind of worried…that you'd make fun of me." He looks away again and a blush mantles his cheeks, and he's ten again, telling me he had a nightmare and embarrassed because he's a big boy and big boys aren't supposed to be afraid. But I shake the image away, now isn't the time to take a little jaunt down memory lane. Looking at my little brother now makes me grin anyway, so why bother with the past?
"Of course I'm gonna make fun of you Sammy, the day I don't make fun of you is the day they put me in the ground, dork." Sam glares at me but it's drastically dulled by his grin.
"Jerk."
"Bitch." Automatic words, automatic responses, comfortable and familiar, how the hell did I manage without this the four years he was off living normal at collage?
Back to business, The One must be trained so he can save the world. Concentrate Morpheus, time to convince him to take the red pill. Or was it the blue one?
"Just because I tease you doesn't mean I won't help you Sammy." That hurt to say, not because it's not true, but because it was just a little bit to close to being chick-flick for my tastes. From the look on his face he knows it to, but he doesn't call me on it.
"It's Sam." That makes me laugh and my laugh makes him scowl, chick flick moment safely avoided. I gently push his precious laptop out of the way, and place a pencil I've pulled from my pocket in the space it used to occupy. He looks at me quizzically, and I nod towards the pencil.
"I figure it's like any other muscle in the body, so I'm gonna help up work it out. Move that." He just stares at me, obviously surprised and I raise my eyebrows, what the hell are whiting for?
He turns his gaze to the pencil, and a look of deep concentration settles on his face, strange emotions swim through his eyes and the pencil does a complete three sixty turn on the table top. I'm impressed, and a little bit awed, though I'll never let him know that. I steady the pencil on the table and nod.
"Good, again." We repeated the excessive until Sam was sweating. I clapped him on the shoulder, a smile tugging my lips.
"That all for tonight Sam go get cleaned up, we'll work on it again tomorrow." He gave me a weak glare and lurched to his feet. As he stumbled towards the bathroom I heard him mutter.
"Oh Joy." Chuckling at my brother I cleaned up the stuff that was spread across the table and tossed the spoon that had stared it all into the trash.
It felt good to help Sam, even if I did have to sacrifice my spoon.
A.N: There's the second chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. I might continue, but I'm not really sure what else to do with this story, suggestions are much appreciated.
Sincerely-
Eyes