Worth Living For
by Swanseajill
Part Fourteen
When he went back inside, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand to his head, swaying slightly.
"Dean! What d'you think you're doing?"
Sam resisted the urge to rush forward to support his brother, even though Dean looked like a breath of wind would blow him over. He knew how much Dean hated him fussing.
Dean looked up and quickly closed his eyes. "Damn, I wish the room would stop spinning."
"You need to lie down. You have to rest--"
"I can rest later. I want to see the grave."
Sam was startled. "You… what? Jamie's grave?"
Dean nodded, and then winced at the movement.
"Dean, why?"
"I just… I don't know, Sam. I just… I need to do this."
Sam looked at his brother in concern. There was no way he was letting Dean do anything but get ten hours of sleep. He could barely sit upright, never mind take a walk to a grave. "Dean," he said quietly, "I don't think you're up to this now. It's the middle of the night and the sheriff might still be prowling around. We can go tomorrow."
"I need to go now. Look, Sam, I'm not even gonna pretend I'm okay. I know I'm a train wreck. But I need to do this. Will you take me or not?"
Dean's question held a note of characteristic stubbornness, but also a tinge of desperation. He might as well have said, "Don't make me beg, Sam." By now, under normal circumstances, Dean would have bolted for the door and collapsed in a heap, and Sam would be scraping him up off the carpet. But it was a measure of Dean's current condition that he'd asked for help.
That clinched it for Sam. He didn't understand why Dean wanted to see the grave and neither, obviously, did Dean. But if that's what his brother needed to give him some closure, then Sam would make it happen.
"Okay, I'll take you," he said. "Just rest there a minute and I'll get your clothes."
Dean flashed him a look of gratitude and sat quietly with his eyes closed until Sam handed him his jeans and a fresh T-shirt. When Dean bent down to pull his jeans on and almost passed out, Sam was tempted to reverse his decision and manhandle his idiot brother back to bed. He chose to ignore the temptation, though, wordlessly taking the jeans out of Dean's hands and helping him pull them on in as matter-of-fact way as possible. He sympathized with Dean's muttered, "This sucks big time." Dean didn't do weak, and he didn't do dependent.
Dean managed the T-shirt himself, but faltered when he got to his boots. Again, Sam took over as if dressing his brother was something he did every day.
A memory struck him and he looked up, hoping to take Dean's mind off his embarrassment.
"Remember when you taught me to tie my shoelaces?"
Dean huffed a small laugh. "Yeah. Thought you'd never get it. Then once you knew how, you went round practicing double knots on everything you could find. Including the TV cable— "
"—And the garden hose." Sam grinned at the memory.
"You know, you were always Brain Boy with the books, but you were a freakin' girl at anything practical."
"Was not!" Sam exclaimed indignantly at the blatant exaggeration, eliciting a low chuckle. He finished with the boots, picked up Dean's jacket and handed it to his brother.
"Were, too," Dean argued, taking the jacket. "Shoelaces, your bicycle, learning to swim – took me hours to drum the simplest thing into your thick skull. I reckon I deserve some kind of endurance medal."
Sam looked up. "Yeah, you do," he said seriously. He wanted Dean to understand just how important it had been to have his big brother around when he was a kid. It wasn't something he'd ever thought about then, but he'd had plenty of time lately to reflect that it was Dean, not Dad, who featured in most of his childhood's happiest and most memorable incidents.
Dean flushed. "Don't be a jerk," he said gruffly, looking away as he shrugged into his jacket.
Sam figured he'd made his point. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah."
Sam nodded. "Okay. Then let's go do this."