Quick next chapter. Congrats, Kaisa.
I don't own Supernatural! But we are ALL excited for the big, huge, major season premiere this week! (YES!) I'll have a nice little sit down with the TV, with a bowl of Peanut M&Ms and my little brothers, and we'll all huddle around the huge TV and watch it together.
And dammit, I shouldn't be updating today. I have a HELL of a lot of homework to do, that is due tomorrow morning. I have biology, writing, lit, and French... Hot damn. So please consider yourselves lucky that you are getting this chapter today.
Let's read, shall we?
(Warnings: Spoilers for Scarecrow (those spoilers already passed), and spoilers for Asylum (this chapter))
It might have been a few hours when Sam couldn't take the silence anymore. He hated the way Dean's face looked so fine when he clearly wasn't. He hated the way his brother 'dealt' with his problems.
He looked over to his brother. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
The sudden break in the silence didn't seem to faze Dean. He only turned down his music a few decibels and threw Sam a sideways glance. "For what, Sammy?"
Sam took a deep breath. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have gotten yelled at by Dad…"
Dean gave him an incredulous look. "So? You're apologizing for that? Sam, the man only told me what he felt I needed to hear. I would've gotten the talk anyway. Today wasn't all that bad, actually. He only got a little carried away because he's under a lot of stress. You know that, Sam. It's not an easy job, searching for this demon."
"No son needs to hear their father calling them a failure!" Sam protested angrily. "This is one of the reasons I don't understand why you worship the guy. All he ever does is insult you or not even pay attention to you at all!"
"You're not that much better, Sam," Dean shot back.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Dean shook his head. "Never mind."
"But still… God, that man really pisses me off sometimes! I can't believe you can respect the man after all that's happened. I mean, he practically raised you to be a frickin' brick wall. Sometimes it's like you're not even human!"
Dean was silent for a long time. A long time he sat there, staring out the windshield, Sam's words boring into his mind.
Sam instantly regretted his words.
But then, Dean began to chuckle. It was a soft thing at first—so soft Sam had thought he had imagined it—but it steadily grew.
Sam stared at him as if he had just lost his mind. "Dean?"
Dean choked back the laughs. "Not human… Man, what a nice thing to say."
Sam frowned. "I'm just saying, it's like you're not human sometimes. Because you're unreadable, and it's like nothing is supposed to hurt you."
"Why thank you, Sammy, I'm glad I've finally achieved my goal of being seen as inhuman."
"What? Wait—no… I mean… I take that back. What I'm trying to say is that it was Dad who taught you not to show any emotions. I think that's wrong, and he was only tryin—"
"Whoever said it was Dad who decided that?" Dean cut in. "Sure, he might've had a part in it, but…"
"And then he just yells at you with no regard whatsoever for your feelings!"
Dean snorted. "Sam, you sound like a chick."
"How is he supposed to know that's he's hurt you when you won't let him know?"
Dean glared. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Sure, Dad, he might've hurt me sometimes, but at least he didn't frickin' shoot me!" he blurted out.
Sam fell silent, and turned to gaze out the window. How could he ever forget about the way he hurt Dean?
Dean looked over to his brother and his face softened. "…Sorry for bringing it up… I didn't mean…"
Now it was Sam's turn to glare. "Why are you apologizing? You were the one who was hurt, not me. I should apologize."
"Okay, fine, I won't apologize. I shouldn't have brought it up. Just drop it, okay?"
"Why won't you talk to me about it?"
"Because there isn't anything to discuss," Dean replied, sounding like he had been over this with Sam a million times already—which, of course, he had. "We both know it was Ellicott's doing. And I know you didn't…you didn't mean what you said to me." God, please don't see through that lie…
Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah… Okay…"
Later that night, Sam couldn't get to sleep. They had stopped at some random motel, so at least there were beds to sleep in instead of the car. And from personal experience, Sam could say that anyone would be sore after sleeping in the passenger seat, so he was happy to be in a bed that night.
Sam almost jumped when he heard Dean turn in his sleep suddenly. Usually his brother slept like a log, barely moving all night long. Dean didn't have nightmares as far as Sam knew. But it was then when Sam figured out that he didn't know as much as he had originally thought.
"No!" Dean shouted, stirring in his sleep.
Sam's eyes widened, and he went to his brother's side and gently began to shake him. "Dean, Dean wake up!"
"NO!" Dean yelled again, this time more forcefully. "I…I won't fail him!"
Sam shuddered involuntarily.
I'm so glad I raised a fucking failure!
Then Dean's thrashing body fell limp. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…," he whispered. "I failed you… I'M SORRY!" His breathing seemed to shake his entire body, and Sam only shook harder.
"Dean, wake up!" he said, louder this time. "Please wake up!"
Dean did wake up at this, his eyes snapping open and fixing them on his younger brother. "Sammy?" he asked, looking somewhat unsure.
"Yeah, it's me," Sam answered in relief. "Nightmare?"
Dean shook his head in a sarcastic-looking 'yeah right' kind of way. "Nah." He sat up and stretched out. "What would make you think that?"
"Well for one, you were saying how you wouldn't fail."
Dean froze in mid-stretch, but then continued on as if it were nothing. "So you heard that, huh?" He leaned back against the headboard.
Sam nodded slowly, and didn't bother adding what else he had heard. "You really believe him, don't you? You really believe you're a failure."
Dean looked down and closed his eyes for a moment, not responding.
"You're not—"
"Shut up," Dean shot darkly, his eyes snapping open and shooting Sam a stare from beneath his eyelashes.
"What?" Sam was taken aback by this tone.
"Shut up," Dean repeated. "Don't talk. Don't say a word. I don't really need to hear this from you too." He lay back down and turned away from Sam, drawing the blankets over his shoulders.
"You are not," Sam began firmly, "a failure."
Dean shook his head inwardly. Of course Sam would say that. "Whatever, Sammy."
"No," Sam spat angrily. "No." He was angry at this whole situation. Dean didn't deserve to feel this way, and their father had no right to make him. "We're not done talking." And he ripped away the blankets. "This isn't resolved."
"Sam, remember who your family is. Nothing gets resolved, especially not with me," Dean grumbled.
"Dean, I don't know how much stuff you've got bottled up inside—"
"What! What does something like that have to do with anything?"
"—but why can't you talk to me about some of that stuff before you explode in front of someone else? Like Dad? Or a complete stranger?"
Dean sat up again and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got it all under control… I'm not going to be blowing up anytime soon."
"We're all we have," Sam tried desperately.
"And I think we'd be better off if at least one of us remains sane," Dean added. "I'm not going to weigh you down with my problems."
"I think I can handle myself, Dean."
Dean shook his head, not believing. "Sam, I see you worrying over me right now, and you can barely handle that. With you going all Doctor Phil on me, you can't think straight. What's going to happen when we're in the middle of a hunt and you decide to worry about me then? That's right, you're going to go all screwy on me and probably wind up dead."
"And let Dad scream at you over my grave? Not a chance."
Dean was silent for a long moment, his eyebrow arching. "What is it going to take, Sam? What's going to get you over your little dilemma?"
"Just talk to me, man. Talk to me about what happened with Dad."
Dean looked at him expectantly, his head cocked to one side.
Sam wondered what that look was about. "…Unless there's something else that's bothering you…?"
"No," Dean lied. It was better to stop Sam while he was head. "Just wondering if that was all you were worried about. Because, man, you get worked up over the littlest things."
Sam half nodded. "I guess… But right now…"
"Yeah, I know. You want to know how I felt." Dean almost laughed at the word, as if emotions were things that were never supposed to be discussed. "You want to know how it felt when Dad yelled at me like that. Okay. Let me put it in terms that you might understand. How would you feel if Dad—or hell, even me—yelled at you, practically told you that you were completely useless? How would you feel if you were practically told that your life meant nothing, that you weren't needed?
"I'll tell you, Sam, it isn't fun being yelled at. You should know, since you and Dad argue all the time."
"Yeah, but at least I argue back! All you do is just stand there and let him scream in your face!" Sam snapped angrily.
"And what would I say to him if I did yell back? Anything I say will only make him angrier. It's not going to solve anything! It may hurt less when you yell back, but… It makes a difference when he's telling the truth…"
Sam shook his head in disbelief, speechless.
"I know you don't believe that. But he doesn't hurt you, does he? Remember the time you argued with him, a few months before you left for college? That time he kept yelling about how he needed you to help hunt down the demon, and how you couldn't just leave?"
Sam nodded, although he was a little surprised to find out that Dean remembered that, especially because he didn't remember seeing Dean during that particular argument.
"At least he said that he needed you," Dean said. "All he ever says to me is to protect you. Or how I screwed up. Or how this is 'all my fault'. You might not realize it, but he loves you so damn much, Sam!" He paused, letting this sink in. "He was so proud of you, and how you got into Stanford. He was so proud that at least one of his boys was smart enough…to actually…" Dean sighed, his eyes lingering on his little brother. "God, he never shows it, but he is so damn proud."
Sam felt a lump grow in his throat as sadness grew in his mind. His father was proud of him? His father loved him so damn much?
"Don't cry on my, Sammy," Dean warned. "I've already had enough chick-flick moments for today."
"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam answered quietly. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sure…I know Dad's proud of you too. How can he not be? You're…you're perfect!"
Dean smirked. "Yeah, the perfect little soldier. I'm not an individual—I'm just a living pawn who only follows orders. But you, Sam… You…you're alive. You got to live. It's not like I'm jealous. I swear, I'm proud of you too. I'm only saying that it hurts sometimes when Dad yells at me. Okay? Can you deal with it?"
Sam was silent for a long time. "So that's it? You're okay now?"
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'll say that it made me feel better after we talked about it."
"It would make me feel better…"
Dean yawned. "Good. I feel a lot better now that we've talked about it." He grabbed his blankets back from Sam and lay back in his bed, trying once again to get to sleep.
"Thanks, Dean," Sam whispered. "I'm glad."
Okay. that's that. The last chapter will either be up tomorrow, or the day after. Until then, PLEASE review. They make my day.
