Chapter 16: Mood Swings
Dean and Sam threw the last few shovels full of dirt onto the now buried bodies of the three trolls. Dean watched as Sam seemed to tire out quickly.
"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam lied. Truth was his chest was on fire but he didn't want Dean to have to do this all by himself since he knew his shoulders hurt from catching him, and Dad's hands were a mess. So he had buttoned his drenched coat to hide the scratches and blood on his chest and got to work on digging the whole.
"Okay, that should do it," Dean announced. "Let's get back to the truck." Dean looked up at the thundering sky. "I hate rain." Sam nodded in agreement.
They started climbing up the side but now that the ground was wet the grass was slick. Sam stumbled and fell. Dean's arm shot out and grabbed Sam before he could roll down the hill.
"Okay, that's it. What the hell is wrong with you and don't tell me nothing!" Dean demanded. "Where are you hurt at?"
"The troll managed to claw my chest just before I shot her," Sam finally admitted.
Dean quickly unzipped Sam's jacket and saw the shredded shirt underneath along with the blood and torn skin.
"Shit Sammy, why didn't you say anything?"
"Because, we still had work to do."
"For being a college boy you're really stupid sometimes, ya know that!"
Sam figured he'd been spending too much time with Dean because for the life of him he couldn't stop the smart ass remark that came out of his mouth. "Awe, you care about me, you really do."
His words had the desired affect he was looking for. "Asshole," Dean griped and then all but hauled Sam up onto his feet and started dragging him back to the truck.
"Dean, I'm perfectly capable of walking," Sam protested and tried to pull his arm free of Dean's vice like grip. "Stop treating me like a baby!"
"I'll stop treating you like a baby when you stop acting like one," Dean replied.
Sam couldn't understand why in the hell Dean was so mad. It wasn't like he was going to ignore the claw marks but they still had a job to do. It wasn't like Dean had never dug a hole while injured.
"Damn it Dean, let go! You're over reacting to a few scratches."
Dean just kept pulling Sam along towards the truck where Dad was currently treating his own wounds.
John looked up in time to see Dean pulling Sam along. "What happened?" Sam had seemed fine when he had left him and Dean under the bridge.
"Sam got hurt but didn't feel like telling anyone," Dean blurted out angrily.
Sam was shoved until he was sitting in the bed of the pickup. Without warning John grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt and ripped it open revealing four long claw marks running across Sam's chest. Sam begrudgingly submitted to his father's poking and prodding.
"These aren't too deep," John finally said. "You're going to need some stitches though."
"We can deal with them when we get home," Sam said.
"I don't know," John replied. "Maybe we should check into a hotel and clean you up."
Sam shook his head no. "I want to go home. It's only a two hour drive. It can wait that long. It's just a couple of scratches."
Dean looked ready to protest but John spoke first. "All right, we'll head home. Dean, can you drive?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"Good, my hands are throbbing. Help me get Sam in the tuck."
"I can walk by myself," Sam protested. He scooted out of the back of the truck and managed to walk to the passenger door of the truck unaided. He went ahead and scooted to the middle since he knew he'd be told to sit there anyway.
"What's his problem?" John asked.
"He's just being Sam," Dean replied with a shrug. "Moody should be his middle name. Half the time I don't really know what's going through that thick head of his." Dean didn't even realize the anger and sarcasm dripping from his own voice as he spoke but John picked up on it loud and clear.
John smiled.
"What?" Dean asked.
"You may have inherited your mother's hair and coloring, but Sam got her mood swings. I swear that woman kept me on my toes."
"Yeah, well, for the record Sam inherited your stubbornness," Dean pointed out.
"I think you both inherited that," John replied. "Dean, what's wrong with you?"
"What?" Dean demanded.
"Your hands are clenched into fists and you look like you want to hit something…or someone."
"It's just…" but Dean didn't finish the thought. He didn't have heart to hearts with his father. Only Sam was able to get Dean to do chick flick moments. Then again this was about Sam wasn't it?
"Dean, talk to me," John ordered.
"I'm sick and tired of seeing him get hurt," Dean finally blurted out.
"Dean, from time to time we all get hurt. It's part of the job."
"No, it's different for Sam. You haven't been with us for the last year. You don't understand. Everything goes after Sam. The demon struck first. Then there was the shape shifter who took so much pleasure in tormenting him while wearing my face to do it. In Lawrence the poltergeist went after him twice, almost killing him. He had practically stopped breathing by the time I got to him and found him with a lamp cord wrapped around his neck. The Hook man managed to take a chunk out of him, oh, and there was that lovely Dr. Ellicott you sent us after. Remember the asylum gig Dad? Well the good doc scrambled Sam's brains and then Sam shot me full of rock salt. Let's not forget Michigan. There we met this swell kid Max, who happened to lose his mom just like we did. Sam had to watch vision after vision as every member of that family get murdered. The Striga you sent us after managed to knock us both on our backs, but it chose to suck out Sam's lifeforce, not mine. If I had been unconscious for just another minute or two Sam would have been dead!"
"Dean," John tried to interrupt but Dean just kept on going.
"Hell, even the freak people we run into go after Sam. He was abducted by a family of cannibal rednecks who hunted people for the fun of it!"
"How did you get him back?" John asked.
Dean actually choked out a laugh. "He ended up saving me after my brilliant rescue failed."
"Son, I know things go after Sam first. They have ever since he was a child. At first I thought it was because he was a child, or at least the youngest. I figured the things we hunted were going after the most vulnerable of us and I'm sure to some extent that was true, but Sam is different, and that means he will always be in danger until the day comes when he learns how to use these gifts of his to protect him self better."
"Still, I keep letting him down," Dean protested. "It's my job to protect him and I suck at it!"
"No you don't."
John and Dean turned to see Sam standing by the truck listening to them. He had given up waiting for them and come to see what the hold up was.
"Dean, I thought we had talked about this already," Sam continued. "I'd have been dead many times over if not for you. You always put me first. I know that. I was pulled in the river and you jumped in after me risking your own life. It's not your fault that a troll scratched me across the chest and it's not your fault that I did something stupid and fell off a bridge."
"That wasn't a stupid move," Dean replied. "Hanging upside down and shooting that troll the way you did was a move Rambo would have been proud of."
"Maybe, but if you and Dad hadn't of caught me I probably would have broken my neck."
"Sammy, don't…"
"You don't!" Sam insisted. "Dean, I know you worry about me, but I'm okay. It's going to take more than a few scratches to bring down a Winchester."
Dean actually smiled at that comment. John could feel the tension slowly easing away from Dean. Once again he was reminded that the bond between his sons was probably too close for their own good. He seriously wondered if one would be able to function without the other. He prayed to a god he wasn't sure even existed that he never have to find out.
The storm that had been winding down suddenly let loose with a renewed strength. The trees bowed, the wind howled and thunder and lightning rolled across the pitch black sky.
"Come on, let's get home," John ordered. "We can get your brother taken care of once we get there."
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A little over two hours later Dean pulled the truck into the driveway. The three tired hunters grabbed their stuff from the back of the truck and lugged their way into the house.
John looked at Sam and just now realized his brace was missing.
"Sam, where's your brace?"
Sam looked at his arm in confusion when he suddenly remembered. "I had to take it off. The troll was too fast and it was slowing me down."
"So you just left it there?" John asked.
"I didn't mean to. I forgot about it. I'll just be careful. I only needed it for one more week and since we won't be going on another hunt before Friday I should be fine."
John sighed, clearly not happy that the brace had been lost but there wasn't much he could do about it now. They sure as hell weren't going to drive back to get it and he couldn't take Sam to another doctor for another brace since that would start to draw attention to them.
"Fine, just be careful," John warned. "Sam I want you to take the first shower so we can then disinfect and bandage those wounds."
"Yes sir," Sam replied. He dropped his bag in his room and grabbed a relatively clean towel and went into the bathroom.
"You know, I probably…"
"You aren't taking your brace off, Dean," John said in no uncertain terms.
An hour later all three were showered and Dean was playing doctor. He had cleansed and bandaged his father's hands first since the task would be easier than the claw marks on Sam's chest.
John let out one more hiss as Dean tied the last piece of gauze in place. "Thanks."
Dean stood up and walked to Sam who was sitting on the other sofa just wearing sweatpants and socks. There had been no point in putting on a shirt until Dean finished with his ministrations.
"Okay Sam, get ready for disinfecting." Dean soaked a washcloth with alcohol and then pressed it down on Sam's chest.
Sam bit down on his lip to keep from crying out but his whole body arced from the fiery pain as the alcohol burned away any germs or bacteria. Dean lifted the cloth and Sam took a ragged breath.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
"Peachy," Sam replied with a forced smile.
"Sammy, you've always been a crappy liar," Dean teased.
"Well, at least my lies are better than your pick up lines."
Dean applied clean gauze to Sam's cuts with a little more force than was called for.
"Ow! You did that on purpose."
"Little brother, what ever do you mean?" Dean asked sweetly.
Sam just glared at him figuring until Dean was done doctoring him it might be wise to avoid insults.
"I can fix three of these with butterfly bandages but this one needs stitches."
"It doesn't look that bad," Sam whined.
"Sammy, let your brother stitch that cut," John ordered. John never played around when it came to first aid. He had made a point of training both his boys in as much medical expertise as possible. "Dean, there is a bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen under the sink."
Both Sam and Dean looked at John for a moment. John knew what they were thinking.
"The bottle is brand new and was put there for medical emergencies. I haven't started drinking again." He looked to Dean, "Give Sam four shots and wait about twenty minutes. You can stitch him up then."
"Dad, four shots will knock Sam flat on his ass," Dean pointed out. Like he had said before, Sam couldn't handle his liquor to save his soul.
"That's the point."
Sam thought about turning down the whiskey but he really hated stitches. 'What the hell?' he figured. He might as well let the alcohol deaden the pain a little.
Dean retrieved the bottle from the kitchen and passed it to Sam.
"Bottoms up," Dean said as Sam took a large swallow. Sam instantly broke into a fit of coughs and hacks as the whiskey took his breath away and burned his throat.
"Pussy," Dean teased.
Sam tried to give the bottle back to Dean. "Nuh huh, you need to do that three more times."
"God, this stuff is awful," Sam complained.
"You won't think it's so bad in a few minutes when Dean starts stitching up those cuts," John pointed out. "Now drink up Sammy."
Sam took a deep breath, pinched his nose, lifted the bottle up, and started to chug. At first Dean and John watched in fascination as Sam chugged down the whiskey but then they both realized at the same time that Sam was chugging way too much.
"Whoa, there little brother," Dean said as he grabbed the bottle away causing some of the amber liquid to spill down Sam's face.
Sam panted and gagged and asked for a glass of water which John fetched for him.
"Now we just wait for it to kick in," John said.
"When will we know?" Sam asked.
"Trust me, we'll know," John laughed.
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Thirty minutes later Sam was lying on his bed singing the song from Barney.
"I love you, you love me
we're a happy family
with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you,
won't you say you love me too!"
"Dude, you have got to cut that out. There is no way in hell I can concentrate and stitch you up if you're singing that crappy song!"
"Awe, what's the matter Dean? Don't you like purple dinosaurs?"
"No, I don't, and for the record neither do you. Now shut up!"
"Okay Dean-o. Dean-o…Dean-o, Dean-o, Dean-o!" Sam giggled happily to himself.
"Jesus Sam, we have got to build up your tolerance to liquor. This is just embarrassing," Dean complained as he threaded his needle.
"Just leave him be and get the job done," John ordered from the kitchen where he was sitting at the table and watching Dean and Sam.
"Yes sir." Dean carefully began the process of pulling his brother's skin back together. It was a task he had done many time before but this was the first time Sam had ever been drunk while he did it and it unnerved him the way Sam was looking at him with his unguarded, open and trusting eyes.
"Dean?"
"What?" Dean asked offhandedly, all his attention focused on his stitching.
"Do you believe there is a heaven?" Sam asked, his drunkenness letting him ask a question that a sober Sam never would.
Dean stopped sewing and looked at Sam, clearly caught off guard by the innocent question.
"I don't know," Dean replied honestly. "Do you?"
Sam seemed to think for a minute. "Yeah." His voice took on an almost dreamy quality as he continued to speak. "We know there is a hell, right? So it makes sense there is a heaven. Do you think mom and Jess are in heaven?"
Dean didn't have a clue but he sure as hell wasn't going to say that to Sammy. His brother was vulnerable right now and Dean realized he could easily hurt Sam if he didn't choose his words wisely.
"Sure Sammy. I'm sure they're there and they're together watching us."
Sam smiled a goofy smile at Dean and closed his eyes for a moment. Dean resumed his stitching. Suddenly Sam opened his eyes and looked almost panicked. "Dean, you don't think mom will show Jess pictures of me naked do you?"
Dean couldn't stop the chuckle that came from that statement. "Sammy, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Baby pictures," Sam said, as if that explained everything. "Mother's always show naked baby pictures to people. That's what my friend at college said."
"I don't think they allow baby pictures in heaven," Dean teased but it seemed to calm Sam down enough to let Dean finish with his stitches. He picked up the scissors and snipped off the end of the thread and applied a clean bandage over his brother's chest.
"There, all done."
"Thanks Dean," Sam said sleepily.
"You're welcome little brother." Dean stood up and pulled the covers that had been pushed to the foot of the bed up and over Sam. Sam sighed peacefully and then closed his eyes. "Sweet dreams." Dean turned off the light and left the room.
John was waiting for Dean in the kitchen. There was a serious look on his face that didn't bode well in the pit of Dean's stomach.
"Dean, I think it's time for you and Sam to start doing some solo jobs. Sam needs to build up his confidence in his abilities, and you…well…you need some time away from your brother. Having Sam around is making you go soft."
Dean looked at his father as if the man had suddenly grown a second head. His reply to his father was short and to the point.
"No fucking way."
"This isn't up for debate. You two will be fully recovered in a few days and I think you two should split up this weekend and do different jobs."
"No."
"Damn it, I am in charge here. I think this would be best for Sam."
"How in the hell would you know what is best for Sam?" Dean demanded. "You barely even know Sam! I'm the one who has taken care of him since the time he was a baby! I'm the one who did all of the things that a father is supposed to do! There is no way you can send Sam out on solo jobs!"
"Sam is never going to be able to take care of himself if he knows that you will always be there. If he's alone he'll have to rely on himself and he'll probably even develop his abilities."
"Trial by fire!" Dean spat. "Were you even listening to me when I was telling you just a few hours ago how everything…EVERYTHING…goes after Sam? Every supernatural freak out there wants to be the one to kill him and take his powers. Sending Sam out on solo hunts would be like sending lambs to the slaughter!"
"You have that little faith in your brother's hunting skills?" John said, turning the argument against Dean.
"I never said that and you know it," Dean retaliated. "Do not turn this around on me. Sam is an awesome hunter and he has saved my life numerous times, but things seek him out. What happens when he's on a hunt and he gets hit with a vision? You've seen how badly those things drain him."
"Dean, a day may come when you won't be there to protect him. He has to know how to stand on his own."
"Sam stood on his own for four fucking years and did just fine. He was living a great life until I came back into it."
"He wasn't a hunter during those four years. He was actually living a very sheltered and protected life on campus with Jessica, but even there the demon managed to find him."
"Sammy and I are a team. We hunt as a team. End of discussion."
John was shocked by the tone of voice Dean had taken with him. "Why don't we ask Sam what he wants?"
"Do not put this on him," Dean demanded. "Sam will agree to it just to make you happy. I mean it Dad. Don't push me on this. Before I'll let you put Sam in danger for no fucking reason I'll pack up our shit and we'll leave."
"What did you say?"
"I mean it Dad. You're my father and I don't mean to disrespect you, but I won't let you toss Sam to the wolves just to see if he can hold his own."
"Did you ever think that this wasn't entirely about Sam? You worry too much about him during the hunt. If you can't maintain your focus you're going to get someone killed."
"Are you bullshitting me? Of course I worry about Sam during a hunt! You're the one who taught me to do that! My whole life growing up my instructions were to kill the big bad and watch out for Sammy. I've been doing that for twenty-two years and now you suddenly have a problem with it? I have news for you Dad I can't change now even if I wanted too."
"Listen, it's late and we're both tired. We'll talk about this more in the morning."
"No we won't. This discussion is over," Dean said. "Dad, please don't make me chose between you or Sammy." He didn't even have to tell his father that John wouldn't like the outcome. John could read Dean's face crystal clear. If he forced Dean to pick Sam would win.
"Fine, the discussion is over…for now."
Dean chose not to respond. Dad could think what he wanted but there was no way his father was going to split him and Sam up. If Sam one day chose to leave then so be it, but the decision to leave would be Sam's, not something his father forced upon him.
Dean went into his room and pushed the door shut quietly so as to not wake up his brother. Needless to say he was surprised when Sammy started to talk.
"Dean?" Sam asked quietly.
"Yeah Sammy." Dean sat on Sam's bed and pushed his hair from his eyes.
"Don't let Dad send me away?" His words were slurred as the alcohol still coursed through his system. In Sam's drunken state he could only imagine what the argument he'd just had with his father must have sounded like to Sammy.
"No one is sending you away," Dean replied.
"Dad doesn't want us to be together anymore."
"That's not true," Dean comforted. "Sammy, your head is a little fuzzy right now. No one is going to send you away and no one is splitting us up." Dean hoped that come morning Sam wouldn't even remember the argument or this conversation.
"Promise?" Sam asked.
"I swear on my life," Dean told him. "You and I will always be together."
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long in coming. I hated it when I first wrote it and then rewrote it two more times trying to get it to sound just right and keep the family members in character. Even though this is now venturing into AU territory I like to keep it as real to cannon as possible and have the personalities stay true.
I know I had Dean do a lot of back talking to his father in this chapter but after seeing Dean stand up to his father several times in Dead Man's Blood, Salvation and Devil's Trap, I think I kept him in character, and if there is one thing that Dean would fight his father over tooth and nail I think it's safe to say it would be over putting Sam in danger.