Actions speak louder
Chapter 14
By teal-lover
Summary: Sam meant what he said the asylum. So how can he ever convince the one person in his life that knows him better than anyone, otherwise?
Rating: PG13, T
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)
AN: Thank you to everyone for reading. This is the 2nd part of the conversation. Dean finally gets to have his say.
OoOOoOOoOOoOOoOOoOOoO
Hours later, Dean found himself driving on in silence while Sam slept peacefully in the passenger seat. No nightmares yet. Hmmm. That's always a good sign.
He eased the Impala next to the curb, turning in his seat to shake the young man awake gently.
Moments later, he led them to the front door, knocking on thin air as the door swung open expectantly.
"I know you boys have already eaten dinner, and your room is already made up. Dean, there's a sofa bed in the main guest room that you can stay on, but if you would rather have your own room—you're welcome to use the guest room next to it."
He shook his head instinctively, the subconscious need to be in the same room as his brother to look out for him never even crossing his mind.
"Ok. Sam, why don't you head on up, I know Dean wanted some coffee before going to bed."
The young man nodded, wordlessly sending her a thank you with a genuine smile before making his way up the stairs.
Hearing the footsteps on the ceiling above her, Missouri was sure that Sam was preparing for bed and out of earshot. "You didn't tell him," she said softly.
Dean bristled and spun around, answering in an angry whisper. "No, I didn't. It wasn't important. Besides, I did exactly what you told me to do. I listened, I understood, and I forgave him. What more do you want from me?"
"It's not a matter of what I want, Dean. In fact, want has nothing to do with it at all. This is about need."
"Exactly, I gave him what he needs. For him to know that I'm not pissed at him anymore."
"And that's the problem. You never take the time to think about what you need, honey."
Her sympathetic tone only seemed to fuel his anger, and he flailed his arms wildly. "I can't, ok! Every single time I do that and get a little selfish—look what happens. I almost loose him. Every single time I've nearly gotten him killed."
"Talking to him, telling him how you feel is not going to kill him, Dean. Sam is stronger than that."
Dean shook his head as he sat down on the couch, leaning his head on his hands wearily. "Then you don't understand him like I thought you did. Do you know how he broods constantly? What good would telling him do? Sam is—I don't know—needy, I guess. Way too sensitive. Telling him would only confuse him. Hell, I barely understand it myself."
"Try me."
"The kid's a handful. He's a big responsibility—you know keeping him safe. Always into trouble."
The psychic offered a quiet, mirthful laugh. "He's not a puppy."
"You'd never know it when he gives you those big sad, eyes."
"He's not your sole responsibility, Dean—he's a grown man. And besides, he does a pretty good job of looking after you too."
Dean gave her a look that said he was hard pressed to agree, but reluctantly nodded his head. "I know that. You do know that it's a rare occasion that I ever get into trouble." Missouri snorted in disbelief , but refrained from commenting, so he continued. "But anyway, it's not his job. It's mine. But sometimes, I wish—"
He hesitated in an uncharacteristic bout of nervousness, staring down at his feet and picking at his fingernails absently.
The older psychic didn't like to read minds when having conversations like this—it tended to frighten off the other person. But this was one of the rare times where she felt that if she didn't, he would never get the words out. She nudged him gently with her knee and conveyed a motherly look of understanding, finishing his unspoken words. "Sometimes you wish it wasn't your job, either, right?"
Dean sighed loudly, too embarrassed by his own thoughts to look her in the eye as he nodded. "I mean, I get why he shot me. But it's kind of unnerving at the same time, knowing that he depends on me so much. Not that I don't like looking out for Sammy, that's all I've ever done—all I've ever known. But sometimes I feel like his trust in me is so misplaced."
"It's not. At least, not to me…"
Dean looked up startled by the new voice. And from the looks of Sam's rather comfortable sitting position on the stairs, he had been there for a while.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I slept the whole ride here, so I just wanted a warm glass of milk to help me get to sleep."
The older hunter sighed and instinctively began to rise, but the psychic was faster to her feet and looked at him pointedly. "No, I'll get it Dean. You just—stay."
Suspecting that she knew of the younger man's presence, and it was part of her plan all along, he narrowed his eyes and responded as sarcastically as he knew how. "Woof."
Dean groaned in annoyance as soon as she left the room, "How much did you hear, Sam?"
Sam leaned forward, the amusement clearly sparkling in his eyes. "Enough to know that you think I should be the one barking."
The older hunter hissed and sat up straighter, his jaw tightening in a mixture of worry and anger. "Then you also heard—look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said—"
Sam interrupted, brushing him of easily. "Yes, you did. It's ok, Dean. But why did you think you couldn't tell me? Am I that much of a pain in the ass?"
Dean deadpanned, "Do you really want me to answer that question?"
Sam couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his own features, carefully avoiding full out laughter to minimize the pain in breathing. He wrapped his arms around his waist protectively and leaned forward a bit more. "Ok, let me rephrase that—OTHER than in the course of performing my normal, every day-annoying-little-brother duties."
"No, of course not—but it's still—"
Sam asked inquisitively, "what, scary?"
The older hunter shifted uncomfortably, but quickly hid it in his normal teasing manner. "Are you reading minds now too with that freaky shining of yours?"
"No," he drawled out with a heavy lilt to his voice. "But I know you Dean. Better than you think."
"Then you should know that I think you shouldn't keep depending on me so much, Sam! It's going to get you killed one of these days, especially since I keep screwing up."
"Whoa, wait a minute—where are getting that from?"
"Because it's true. Look what happened. You got shot, because of me!"
"You're thinking this was your fault? Dean, I pushed you out of the way. That was my choice!"
Dean shook his head emphatically, the calm determination in his brother's voice only serving to make him feel even guiltier. "That's only because I made you depend on me."
"I've got news for you, Dean. You. Don't make me do anything I don't want to do. And you can't undo how I feel, or what I think about you. Come on, man—you practically raised me by yourself—you can't go back and change that, and I wouldn't want to. It's only natural that I look up to you because of it. And if that means that I happen to get attached to the only person who's ever really been a parent to me, and who also just so happens to be my big brother—well then big brother is just going to have to live with it!"
"It's just not safe, Sam."
The younger man only laughed sadly. "You mean with you. You're wrong about that. You said it yourself man, maybe not in so many words, but I'm a trouble magnet. We both know that, but I have no idea why. But what I do know is that I am now, and always have been safer with you watching my back. I guess I just never thought about how draining that could be on you. You were barely older than me when you started."
Hazel eyes fixed on his brother's fingers that plucked at the plush carpet absently, all the while staring at the tiny fibers hard enough to have burned a whole in them. He sighed loudly again, running his hands over his face in frustration. Damn it! he thought. He knew that behavior—Sam was beginning to withdraw again. His little brother was hurting, and it was all his fault.
Dean mumbled under his breath as he made his way over to the steps, nudging Sam over to sit beside him. "See this is why I didn't want to say anything. Sam, just stop it—right now. Stop thinking so hard. You're not a burden to me, never have been. It's just—dude, I've flunked out of so many things and never really cared…"
The younger hunter whipped his head around, his eyes challenging. "Like what? Name one."
"Like—school. Latin," and then a suggestive but wistful leer, "Mary Beth Kinney..."
Sam nodded and smiled fondly, "Ah, Mary Beth. She must have been the only girl to ever shoot you down in that entire high school."
Dean wrinkled his nose sourly before turning serious again. "I knew that girl had no taste the second she said my geeky little freshman brother was cute. But seriously Sam, this being older stuff--it's just something I can not fail at…"
Brushing his bangs aside, Sam stared at the man. The almost shy way that he ducked his head to avoid looking at him, showed a vulnerability that he had rarely ever seen in his older brother. He finally understood what Dean wasn't saying. That in his own round-about way, how much he had taken on by simply being a big brother, and how much the idea of failing to protect him terrified the older man.
He vowed then and there that he would find a way to ease some of that responsibility and worry for his big brother, but at the moment, didn't have a clue of where to begin. "With the kind of lives we lead, it's hard—and I wish I knew of a way to make that easier for you, Dean."
"For starters, you could learn to duck a little better."
"Easy for you to say. It's a scientifically proven fact that people with shorter statures have a much faster response time dropping to the ground since they're closer to it." Dean glared daggers at his sibling, obviously ready to fire back a retort.
Sensing that the more serious parts of the conversation were over for now with the teasing making its way in, Missouri laughed and padded her way over to the two and outstretched her hand to Sam.
The woman was surprised as Dean grabbed the glass from her hand and downed half the glass with a smug grin before handing it to his brother.
She threw her hands on her hips before motioning them both upstairs, "Dean, what did I tell you earlier—don't tease your brother."
"He started it. He called me short."
"I did no such thing. I was merely stating a fact."
She laughed again as the playful banter continued long after she heard the footsteps on the ceiling from the guest bedroom.
Sighing loudly, she turned off the light and headed to her own room. 'Oh, John—I hope you know what you're doing…'
TBC…
There's just the epilog after this.