Dean hadn't meant to argue with Sam, but that was somehow what they had ended up doing. It had been precisely to avert that outcome in fact, that Dean had meant to avoid Sam completely. Because Dean wasn't sure he knew how to behave around anyone anymore, least of all Sam. After Hell, even though that had been a while ago now, social interactions still felt unnatural and dangerous and unrelentingly exhausting.
But Sam had been the one who'd come and sat down. Sam had been the one who'd started the conversation. Sam had been the one who insisted on talking about feelings. And while Dean understood that his brother was going through an ordeal that no one should ever have to face, Dean couldn't understand why Sam was dredging up their past. Particularly given the fact that all he seemed to have ever done in that past, when he'd actually been in it, was to run away from it.
It made Dean's head hurt to think about, so he tried not to think about it. But he couldn't supress the guilt he felt, because Sam was living through a nightmare, and Dean knew he should cut him some slack. Dean knew he should try to be more supportive, more tolerant. More normal, whatever the hell that even was anymore. And if for some unfathomable reason Sam wanted to talk about their father, so be it. Dean should have just shut his pie-hole and let him, if that was what Sam needed.
The last thing he should have done was argue with Sam.
He also shouldn't have disturbed Sam when Sam had finally retired later that evening. Much like the argument, Dean hadn't meant to, and he hadn't meant to stop and stare at his younger brother either. And he most certainly hadn't meant for his voyeurism to be revealed so openly. But as Dean had been passing Sam's room later that night, the sight of his brother asleep in the chair, with Deanna curled up and asleep in his arms, stopped Dean in his tracks.
If Dean had spent more time in the Roadhouse, roaming the hallway that cut through the domicile quarters housed at the back, he would have been able to maintain his stealth when he shifted his weight to eventually move away. He would have known to side-step the creaking floorboard and Sam would have been none the wiser.
As it was however, Dean's one misstep caught the crack, and the resultant creak had Sam's eyelids open within an instant, head jerking up and alarm instantly flooding into his eyes at the abrupt awakening.
"S'okay." Dean said, knowing he'd been spied and holding up his hands by way of appeasement. "It's just me."
"What is it?" Sam asked, still on high alert. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," Dean replied, shaking his head quickly in apology. "Was just headed to the john. Didn't mean to wake you."
Sam let his head fall back at that, a frown creasing his features as he screwed his eyes shut, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose.
"So, no update?" he asked, though it sounded more like a dejected confirmation than a hopeful enquiry.
Dean didn't respond, knowing there was nothing he could say to that that would be of any use.
"Why don't you get to bed?" he offered instead. "Get some R & R while they're both asleep."
Sam flopped his head to one side, staring at the top of Deanna's head for a moment, before nodding his assent to his brother. He would have left his submission at that, had he not caught remnants of some unidentified look that lingered on his older brother's face.
"What?" he asked, catching something in Dean's features that he still couldn't quite pin down. "What're you thinking?"
Dean opened his mouth, then cocked his head to the side quickly, as if not sure what to say. Sam was getting used to, if not tired of, Dean's deflections and lies, but for once Dean surprised him with the truth.
"Just… well, don't take this the wrong way but," Dean paused, the strange look accentuated with his admission. "Well, as I was walking pass just now… I swear you looked just like Dad."
Of all the things Sam had expected his brother to say, especially after their earlier entanglement, that was nowhere near the ballpark.
"What?" he asked, confusion openly colouring his voice.
Dean wore a slightly sheepish, slightly sad, lopsided smile as he nodded.
"Yeah. When you were young, you know, 'bout Deanna's age I guess, maybe a little younger. Sometimes… sometimes I'd wake up and find Dad asleep in a chair, with you in his arms. Just like that."
Sam shook his head. "I don't remember that."
"No, you wouldn't." Dean replied and Sam instantly took offence. "Coz you were too young, not coz of anything else." Dean clarified quickly, knowing Sam had initially taken it as a dig at his and John's troubled relationship.
"Oh," was all Sam said in response.
"Yeah," Dean continued, taking a small step into the room, emboldened a little now that the memory was out. "He'd come home from hunts, wrecked as Hell most of the time. Sometimes I wouldn't know he was back, till after he'd already passed out. But in the early days, when you were young, sometimes he'd just sit in a chair, in the middle of the night, and just hold you. Just fall asleep like that… I guess once in while you'd have maybe crawled into his lap, but… anyway. That's how I'd find you guys," he shrugged awkwardly. "You reminded me of him just now."
Sam didn't know how to take that. Being compared to John; it wasn't a comparison he would have ever assumed. He wasn't punch drunk in front of his children like he remember John being at times. He wasn't distant and demanding. And he sure as hell wasn't as hard on his own kids like John had been on him and Dean. And yet…
This time it was Dean who couldn't read his brother's expression, so it was his lips that uttered the question.
"What?"
Sam looked up, then sighed placing a hand protectively on Deanna's head.
"I didn't agree with a lot of what Dad did, you know that, but," he shook his head, then looked down at his daughter. "I don't know man. I guess I get it, some of it at least. I mean I still think he got a lot wrong, but…" Unexpectedly, he huffed a laugh, humourless and hollow, shaking his head again as he did so. "When Jess and I first talked about starting a family I had all these ideas about how differently I was gonna do things. How it was gonna be nothing like what you and I had as kids. How I'd give my kids, my family, a different life."
"And you have." Dean confirmed when Sam seemed like he'd trailed off. "The kids are awesome. And I saw your home. Looks like a great life."
"And yet this stuff still happens." Sam retorted indicating to his surroundings, voice cold and bitter.
"This stuff's just a blip. You'll get back on track man, come on. You know that."
"Do I? You know I blamed Dad so much but, I get it now. Knowing what he knew. Knowing he might not be around to protect us all the time, knowing half of what was out there was probably only half as bad as the things he didn't know about… I can see why he was so hard on us. Why he raised us the way he did, why he taught us the things he did. I get it."
"Yeah," Dean sighed softly. "I mean, I know he wasn't perfect but… in his own messed up way, everything he ever did in his life was his own screwed up version of love, was his way of trying to protect us, of raising us to take care of ourselves."
Sam snorted a laugh.
"You know, Jess grew up in the country surrounded by hunting," he said, voice only hitching slightly at the mention of his absent wife, before he carried on quickly. "Normal people hunting, not you and me hunting. But it had an effect on her, growing up around it. She's totally anti-violence now. Completely anti-gun… She and I have been arguing about that lately. Like, a lot."
"So… Her being a hippie and up for free-love makes you two argue?" Dean asked, not bothering to hide his confusion and Sam shook his head.
"I've been wanting to get Deanna into self-defence classes," he clarified. "I'd like her to get familiar with firearms, at some point. Sooner than I should but I can't help it. I might not be around forever to keep them safe. But Jess won't hear it… Man! Never thought I'd be the one to raise my kids like that, to sacrifice a piece of their innocence like that, but…" Sam shook his head again, this time looking so ashamed at whatever he thought, that the shame seemed to snatch his voice from him.
"But you want them to be able to protect themselves if they ever need to," Dean finished for him, understanding the sentiment completely. "Because you know what's out there."
Sam nodded, giving his brother a knowing, unwavering stare. "I would do anything to protect my kids Dean. Anything."
"And there it is."
"What?"
"The reason you remind me of Dad so much."
The brother's shared a look for a moment, each wearing a bittersweet smile. Sam was the first to lose his, as his expression became more sombre.
"Dean if things don't work out, if we can't–"
"I know." Dean said softly, cutting him off.
"If it comes to it–"
"I know." Dean repeated. "But if it comes down to it, down to making a deal, or trading a life, or doing any other such dumb ass thing, I'll be the one to do it. Not you."
Sam shook his head. "Dean–" he began, but again his brother cut him off.
"No kid should grow up without a parent Sammy. We both know that." He said, voice soft and stern and absolute, and Sam found he had no recourse to that. "So if it comes down to it, you let me take care of it."
They locked eyes for a moment, till Sam couldn't take it any longer. The emotions he felt, the trust, the love, the relief and absolution even, it was all too much, and staring at Dean was like staring at the sun; there was only so much of that intensity he could take. He gave a quick nod, looking away so as to not let any tears betray him.
"But hell!" Dean said, clapping his hands together lightly. "It's not gonna come to that. We're gonna figure it out before it gets anywhere near that. Okay?"
Sam gave a crooked smile. He missed Dean's sincerity at times, and it was his sincerity in that moment, their conversation about their father, the acknowledgment that John would have done anything for them, that made Sam brave enough to want to ask the question he'd been dreading. The one about how John had died and whether there was some deal that he'd made.
But before he could summon the words, before he could dismiss his hesitation, Ash's head appeared from behind Dean's shoulder.
"Uh." Ash said, looking uncertainly between the two brothers, aware that he'd walked in on something, but not quite sure what. "This a bad time?"
"What's up?" Dean asked, back to business, hints of any soft edges instantly dissolved.
"You wanted to know when Gavin picked up his messages and when I located Stacey… Well, he just picked up his messages. And I just located Stacey."
tbc - Thank you for reading. Stay well out there :-)
