Moving On

Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor does Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.

Warning: some violence as the story progresses

Spoilers - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.

Author's Note: Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on.

Author's Note (2): Thanks Rae for your continued support.

Chapter 5 - Night-time Conversations

My view of Dean was so different to Sam's. I feel as if Sam was hunting information now to compensate for his lack of understanding of his brother. If getting information from Missouri was out of the question, then he was going to get as much from me as he can before he talks to Dean.

"Why did he let me go? I wouldn't have gone if he'd have said."

"Exactly. You had to make the choice."

"I didn't mean for him to be unhappy."

"Tell him that. He knows it anyway, it's why he helped you go, why he wouldn't let your Dad stop you."

"He could have come with me. I asked him to."

"No, Sam. He couldn't, but you need to talk to him about that not me. Now if you're going to stop pushing the remains of that food around your plate, I'll clear up. You check in on your brother and then go to bed. Fresh start in the morning, make the most of it."

"Right." He puts the fork down. "I'm sorry and thanks."

"Away with you." I watched as he walked to Dean's door. He put his hand on it, then inhaled slowly. This was something he needed to do, something he needed to get right. He opened the door and went in quietly. He left the door open and I could see straight into Dean's room from where I was sitting in the kitchen. I wondered if he'd left the door open deliberately, so I would know he wasn't upsetting Dean. I knew I didn't need to watch, I trusted him to do the best he could for Dean. I never believed he intended to hurt him earlier, he just didn't recognise this Dean and hadn't figured out how to deal with him.

Dean was curled tight as close to the wall as he could get, as if he was subconsciously trying to make himself invisible. Sam sat on the vacant space and, in a movement reminiscent of the time in the hospital, he ran his hand through Dean's hair and left his hand rest there. As I watched, I saw the tension ease first from Sam's shoulders and then from Dean's body - not entirely but enough to make him seems more relaxed. Sam went to stand up and Dean stirred at the sudden removal of warmth from beside him. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean. It's me. You're okay, just go back to sleep."

"Sam? I'm sorry." Dean's voice was thick with sleep.

"Ssh, it's okay. I'm sorry too."

"You came back?"

"I came back. I'm sorry I made you think I wouldn't. I didn't mean for you to worry." Sam's voice was soothing as he tried not to wake Dean fully.

Dean seemed to come rapidly awake. He reached to stop Sam leaving, fear evident in his voice, the remains of his dreams energising his speech,"Sam, part of me wants you to go, but part of me is frightened what will happen to me if you do." The effects of sleep were spurring him on to be more honest than he would normally be.

"What do you think might happen, Dean, if I went?"

"Sam, don't!" He sounded hurt, despite the gentle questioning.

"It's okay, we can talk."

"No." It was barely a whisper.

"Dean, if it makes a difference I'm not leaving, not if you tell me, not if you don't. I'm here to stay."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you don't and I had no right to say you did. I was being an idiot. I can only apologise but it isn't enough."

"I've been behaving like a kid. I hear myself do it, ask you the same thing over and over again, but I can't help myself, I can't stop."

"It's fine. You're getting better, getting stronger all the time. We can get through this."

"What about Missouri?"

"What about her?"

"Do we have to go see her?"

"Not unless you want to, no. From now on, we do stuff we both want to do. I'm going to listen, so if you say no, no it is."

"I just..." he went quiet again.

"Yes..." Sam encouraged.

"There's things I... you shouldn't... Sam, I trust you, you know that right? But there's things if you knew... you wouldn't look at me the same. I couldn't take that." I saw he was curled tight again, pulled away as far as he could from his brother, but I was relieved to see Sam follow him. He took advantage of the gap on the bed to swing his legs up and he leant back against the wall, his hand still resting on Dean's shoulder.

"Whatever dude. I'll listen when you ready."

"Sam! You're not listening to me!" I watched Dean pull himself up to look at his brother, eyes anguished.

"I am! You're telling me there's something about you that would make me look at you differently and I'm saying to you, I don't think there is, but I'm not going to press. You tell me what you want, when you want. I'm not going anywhere. There's something I need you to know. I want to be real sure you understand, because I can't risk my fuck ups making you sick again. Today can't happen again, Dean. I can't be the cause of another panic attack like that, because it is doing you too much damage and I can't live with that. If I walk out for any reason, I will be back. I am not leaving you. Once I've got my head clear, I will be back. There is nothing you are going to say or do that will make me leave for good. Are we clear on that? Nothing. I will come back"

"You shouldn't have to."

"Nothing to do with it. I want to. Now, are we clear?"

"You can manage without us."

"You and Bobby? No I can't. I don't want to either."

"Me and Dad."

"Dean, I've never been without you, even when I was at Stanford. You wrote, you called, you left messages that I never erased. You sent money, you even sent me cereal. You were still looking out for me. I always had you to come back to. I always knew that."

"You didn't stay in touch." It was a simple statement, but it encompassed the world of hurt and vulnerability that Dean had felt.

"I knew Dad was pissed off with me. I didn't want to drag you into it. I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter. I just worried whether you were okay."

"What about you? What was it like? What happened after I left?"

"Nothing much." It couldn't be further from the truth, but I knew that I should leave it as Dean's story to tell, whatever my thoughts. "Dad was pissed off, you knew that. He went on a bender, got in a few scraps for a while until he calmed down."

"What about you though? What did you do?"

"I stayed sober and got into a few scraps, tried to get some money, fucked up and got Dad arrested and hung out with Bobby for a while until I could get him out."

"Dean, tell Sam the truth." I couldn't let him continue with the lies. Only he and John know the entire truth of what happened, and that's assuming John remembers. Jim and I knew parts. What I knew was enough to be certain that Dean was not the one at fault. The version the police and hospital have is complete lies but that doesn't worry me as much. "What's going to change if you tell him?"

"Mind your business, old man," he said without turning around. There was no rancour, no malice or anger. It has been a long time since there has been need of anger between us.

"You forget, boy. It is my business. He made it my business when he called me the first time."

"Talking about it doesn't change it. What good does it do Sam to know?"

"It lets him know you."

"He knows enough about me already. Some things are better left."

"I disagree."

"Fine, well, some other time, maybe. I'm tired."

"Right. I'll leave you boys to it."

"Dean?"

"Yeah. I'm tired, Sam."

"Okay. You want me to go?"

"Don't mind."

"Lie down, I'll be back soon." Sam walked out to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack, opened it and took out a book before heading back in and sitting down again next to Dean.

"Going to read to me?"

"You want me to?"

"No!"

"Fine, I'll just read to myself while you go back to sleep. Then I'll go up to bed, how's that?"

"Whatever." For all his response could have sounded sulky, it actually held a tone of relief within it. Whether it was relief that Sam wasn't leaving yet or relief that he wasn't going to push to find out what had happened in his absence, I couldn't have said.

That's what they did. Sam sat and read until Dean fell asleep again.