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 refereneces to past 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 9 - It's just a Talk
Apart from that the hospital trip is uneventful. Back in the car, I'm surprised when Dean broaches the subject of Missouri. I realise that the injury must be preying on his mind a lot for him to do this.
"Do you think if I wrote her and apologised and explained she might help?"
"I'll just call her and ask her."
"That's not right, Sam. I was rude. Maybe you could find out if she can turn it off, you know, not read my mind."
"Okay, I'll ask." I'm struck by how worried he is about Missouri reading his mind and I wonder whether I should ask him about it. Instead I ask, "Dean, what do you want to do if she can't?"
"I don't know maybe she knows someone else who can help."
"Dean, what is it that worries you about this whole thing?"
"Trust me dude, I do not want her poking through my mind, prying into my dirty thoughts! A man has desires, Sam, and he certainly doesn't need to be sharing them with a woman older than his mother."
He's lying. Dean knows better than to imagine that Missouri would be poking through his sexual desires. But he won't be drawn further so I drop it for now. Bobby's talk yesterday has reminded me, how much patience I need to apply to the situation. His advice has paid off so far and Dean has already told me more than I could hope for.
We get the shopping done in no time and it doesn't cease to amaze me how versatile a cook Dean can be. I know Pastor Jim used to teach him stuff when we were kids, practical, hearty and cheap were the order of the day then. Over the years, it hasn't changed much but Dean has accumulated a wider knowledge and uses a wider range of ingredients.
"So what now?" I ask as we finish.
"Back to Bobby's," is the reply.
"I thought maybe we could go out for a bit, you know, just us, away from it all."
"Fine, swing by his first though, some of this needs to be kept cold."
An hour and a half later and we're heading out into the distance. Dean even whipped up sandwiches to take with us. "I know you, you'll be hungry before we're ten minutes down the road," is his comment on the subject.
"So you going to talk to me now?" he asks catching me by surprise as I drive.
"What?"
"The dreams, Sam, the dreams. You said earlier, you were going to tell me about them."
"Yeah, well, okay. Do you remember back when we were in the motel and I had a dream about two kids?"
"Yeah, afterwards, you said they were okay. They didn't need us."
"No, that's right, they didn't need us. Dean, the kids... they were us. I've been dreaming about us, about things that happened to us."
"Like remembering stuff. Sammy, sometimes I wonder about you. You said you didn't know who they were or where they were."
"I didn't. Dean, this is not stuff that I remember. Some of it, I'm too young to have a memory of."
"Like what?"
"Like that dream I told you about then. I was in your arms asleep you were rocking me. Dean, you wouldn't have been more than six. I can't remember stuff from that far back."
"So why are you dreaming about it?"
"I don't know. Maybe, I wonder if..." I don't want him to feel criticised, I don't want him to think I'm stupid either. "Look, I don't really know, but maybe it's because you're ill or maybe it's something telling me it's time I grew up and looked out for you like you've always looked out for me."
"Sam, you shouldn't have to keep looking out for me. I am getting there, honestly. You know, maybe the end of the week we could look into you getting back to Stanford."
"You want that? I figured you'd want to hang here near Bobby for a while yet. We've not got many real friends."
"You have plenty of friends round Palo Alto. I thought you were missing them."
"Dean, just so I'm clear on this. Are we talking about me going back to Stanford or us going? I am not leaving you. There's too much I need you for. I don't want you on the other side of the country."
"Sam, I'll be okay. This will pass, you don't have to stay and look after me. I'll get it together, another week, I'll be fine. You can go back. We'll stay in touch. I don't need a babysitter."
I could kick myself for saying those words the other night, he's used them more than once in conversations since. He's saying the words telling me to leave, but he sounds terrible. The words bear no conviction, merely a sense of obligation and it's my fault he feels this way right now.
"No, I know you don't need a babysitter. I wish I had never said that to you because I didn't mean it, I was just being... Dean, what about me though? What about the visions? I can hardly tell anyone else about them?" I keep in mind Bobby's reminder of how fragile his state of mind is and so rather than continue to suggest that he needs me, I go back to what he has always been and done for me.
"The phone, Sam. I'll only ever be a phone call away. It's not like with Dad. I would always answer if you called."
"It's not that. I just... I don't want to do it alone just yet... you know, I'm just used to you being there. I'm not used to having to deal with this crap without you."
"You'll manage Sam. You don't really need me."
"Not yet. Not with dreams, visions and like that time at Max's with the telekinesis, supposing that starts again."
"You'll be fine. Maybe it'll all stop if you get away anyway."
"I don't want to go, not yet." It's a simple and final statement and he looks at me, slightly surprised but nods and accepts it as a decision.
"So what else have you dreamt? What was significant about it?"
"I don't know. You know when we were kids, how often did Dad leave us?"
"I don't know. I never kept count. All I ever thought about was keeping you out of trouble. It was great once you could read, it kept you out of my hair."
"Do you remember the first time Dad left us?"
"Not really, no. The times all blur. It happened often enough that I was used to it. Why? It was no big deal."
"Did he always come back when he said he would?"
"Judging by the question, you already know the answer to that. So why bother asking?"
"Okay, sorry. What was it like? I don't remember him not being back on time until I was well into my teens yet it must have happened before then?"
"I learnt that Dad's two nights often meant three or four fairly early on. The trick was to never tell you when he was actually due so you didn't need to worry that he wasn't back."
"But you did?"
"What? Worry? Not so much. I suppose I probably did the first couple of times but then I got used to it. It was no big deal, like I said."
"In the one dream, I think you're worried."
"You're probably dreaming about the first time it happened then. Like I said I got used to it."
"Did you ever worry he wasn't coming back?"
His laugh is harsh and bitter. It doesn't sound like him at all. "Dad? Not come back? Of course he'd come back. He was too much of a hard-ass marine to not come back."
"If he was late back, what did we do for food?"
"We managed. He left me with food and a bit of cash."
"Enough?"
"Sam, I know he was never going to win 'Father of the Year' but he wasn't an absolute bastard. You know, I sometimes think you've forgotten all the stuff he did do for us. It could have been worse."
"How?"
"If he'd given us up or if we'd been taken away from him. You know we wouldn't have been kept together don't you? You wanted that?"
"No, of course I didn't. Who told you they'd have separated us?"
"Dad."
"He tell you that when he wanted you to look after me?"
"Yeah."
"He tell you, it'd be your fault if we were separated?"
"Sam, what are you getting at?" he sounds irritated now.
"Dean, what I'm getting at is he made you responsible for me, made you think it was your job to keep the family together. You do know that was his job, right? His job, but he didn't do it, you did."
"Why do you think we had a roof over our head, food to eat, money to spend?"
"That was the minimum and don't tell me he always came through. I know you provided loads, particularly as you got older."
"I could hardly not, we weren't in a position for me to just sit back on my ass."
"We shouldn't have relied on you as much."
"You're talking ideal situations, Sam. Once Mom died, there was no chance of that."
"It could have been better than it was."
"Yeah. It could. Happy now I've said it?"
"It's not about that. Without you, what would it have been like?"
"Different. Better probably. Dad would have stayed and looked after you or maybe someone would have taken you in, brought you up properly."
"Dean, I didn't mean it like that. I meant you kept it together, you provided the normality, the sense of everything being okay."
"Not very well, judging by what you're saying." I can hear the hurt in his voice.
"Listen to me, I never knew there was anything wrong. I didn't know I needed to worry because of you. So yeah, you did fine. In my dream, I'm fine, it's only you that's worried, so that shows how well you did, how safe you kept me."
"Yeah whatever." His words are off-hand but I can hear a hint of relief in them. I think that along with not realising how much he did, I hadn't appreciated how little faith he had in his own achievements. Dean sees so much of what he has done as not good enough. It's only now that I have begun to see this. It's more of Dad's brainwashing. The best Dean could hope for from Dad was a sign that what he had done was acceptable, never good. The only time Dad would have shown a real reaction was when Dean got it wrong. Criticism, never praise.
"We finished now?"
"What?"
"The heart-to-heart. It done?"
"Yeah, Dean, we're done."
"So what now?"
"A walk. Maybe loosen up a bit - you still stiff? I wasn't thinking too strenous."
"Sure."