Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him even though his own were still closed. "Sammy," he groaned as he slowly lifted his eyelids. He had slept for quite some time, but he still didn't feel right. There was an ache in his head, a heaviness throughout his body and a general sense of unease. "What's going on, bud?"
Sam was sitting up by his pillow, legs drawn into his chest, still his 9 year old self. He didn't look like he was in distress, he just looked… confused.
Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes. "You okay? How are you feeling?"
"I'm…hungry," he said, looking at Dean for reassurance that he wasn't crazy.
Dean paused and thought about this for a moment, but then realized, "Huh. So am I."
"That's weird, right? I mean… we shouldn't be…"
Dean shrugged and got out of bed. "Well, Cas said everything is going to be just like life. At least for a while. Or I guess forever, if we want." Dean stretched and yawned. He realized then that he was also achy all over, not just his head. He sighed and motioned for Sam to follow him. "C'mon. Let's go see what's in the kitchen."
Sam just stayed where he was.
"Sammy, come on. It's okay. We need to eat."
Sam gave him a look. "No, Dean, we don't. We're dead."
It was the first time either of them had actually said the words out loud, but not the first time either of them had thought it. Dean walked back over to the bed, chewing at his bottom lip. He sat down beside Sam who was now looking very forlorn, as though he wished he had not uttered those words.
"Sammy," Dean draped an arm around him. "Hey…"
"'m sorry," Sam mumbled miserably. "I shouldn't have said that."
"I want you to say whatever you're thinking. And, hell- I've been thinking it too."
Sam looked up at him, a bit relieved to know he wasn't the only one.
"But listen, I don't think… I don't think dead is the right word. I mean, yeah, in 'Earth-terms', sure, but… I don't know about you, but the last thing I feel like is dead."
Sam didn't answer, but he didn't appear to disagree.
"I mean, I don't feel at the top of my game, but I'm thinking maybe we need a different word… free maybe?"
Now Sam looked a little less convinced. "We're souls stuck in human bodies who can't be more than ten feet from each other without having a full on melt-down."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, it wasn't a melt-down, I just- hey!" He stopped then, looking suspiciously at Sam "How did you even know that? Who told you?"
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You did, dummy. I meant me." He gave Dean a lopsided grin then. "So, you freaked out too?"
Dean was so relieved to see even that little smile on the kid's face that any trace of embarrassment he had was gone. But he mustered a false bravado just for show. "I was mildly concerned. I did not freak out. I did not have a melt-down."
Sam snorted, "Right."
Dean tackled him to the bed with a playful growl. And Sam laughed. And it was seriously the most awesome thing Dean had heard in so long. "Good thing you're already dead," Dean said, pushing Sam into the pillows. His voice was low and threatening, but his hands were gentle.
Sam's smile faded into a cringe at Dean's comment, though. "I think you're right… that's really not the right word."
"I'm always right," Dean said, tousling Sam's hair and standing up.
Sam swatted his hand away and wrinkled his nose. "Whatever. Let's just... let's not say that anymore."
"Deal. C'mon." Dean extended a hand to help Sam up off the bed. "Let's go check out the kitchen."
They wandered out into the hall and into the open living area. It was even more incredible than Dean remembered from his first encounter, probably because, although he was still being cautious, this time he didn't feel like there was danger hiding around every corner.
There was an entire wall of windows in the living room that looked out over the grounds of the house. Navy blue and pale gray furniture surrounded a massive stone fireplace and an enormous television mounted to the wall.
They both stopped short at the sight in the kitchen. A bright red popcorn machine stood in the corner filled with buttery yellow popcorn. There was a large platter of bread, crackers, cut up fruits, vegetables and cheeses on the island, and right in the middle of it all was a perfect looking pie.
Sam looked up at Dean who was staring open-mouthed at the spread before them. "Do we have staff?" he asked, not entirely kidding.
Without looking away from the food, the pie in particular, Dean nodded and answered, "It's probably Cas. I think most of all of this," Dean waved his hand indicating their surroundings "is his doing. He seems pretty proud of this house."
Dean found a beer in the fridge and a can of chilled apple juice. He set them both on the island and Sam reached for the beer.
"Oh- I don't think so," Dean said, grabbing it before Sam could get his hand around it.
"What?" Sam asked indignantly. "I'm technically older than you are."
Dean shot him a warning look. He didn't even want to know what that meant. "Right now, you are about 9. And unless you can do something to change that, you can just…" he handed Sam the juice. "pretend this is hard cider."
Sam rolled his eyes and cracked open the can.
The brothers helped themselves to plates full of food, sitting on stools at the kitchen island. When they were finished, they filled up bowls of popcorn and ventured into the living room. Dean got a fire going while Sam found a movie and they settled in under soft blankets, feet up on the coffee table. Dean stole a glance at Sam every now and then and noticed his eyelids getting heavy. About a quarter of the way through the movie he was out cold. Dean wondered how long this exhaustion would go on. He was feeling it too, but seemingly less so than Sam. Sam stirred a bit every now and then and mumbled something in his sleep. Eventually, Dean could make out his name and the mumbles became more frantic. He sat up a bit and nudged Sam with his foot.
"Hey… hey! Sammy?"
Sam gasped and sat up. A look of pure relief crossed his face upon seeing Dean as he struggled to catch his breath. "Dean?" his voice squeaked out.
"Hey… It's okay, I'm right here," Dean said reaching his arm towards Sam. "You wanna come sit next to-"
Sam did not hesitate. He launched himself at Dean before Dean even finished his sentence, folding himself up under Dean's arm.
"Whoa, easy, buddy! I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Sam just let out a deep breath, not trusting himself to speak.
Dean stretched his feet out along the length of the couch, keeping one arm tightly around Sam as he ran his other hand over Sam's head. "It's okay," he repeated softly. He could feel Sam shaking against him. Not sure what else to do, Dean just held him that way until he could feel him start to relax.
"Bad dream?" he asked finally, hoping maybe he could get the kid talking a little, but Sam just nodded into his shoulder. "Still don't feel very good, huh?"
There came a softly whispered, "No."
Dean had suspected as much. He lowered his voice even more. "Can you tell me what hurts?"
There was a long pause during which time Dean became sure that Sam wasn't going to answer him. But then he did, hesitant and soft, "My head, mostly. But kind of everything. My stomach doesn't feel right, I'm cold and I'm really, really-"
"Tired?" Dean finished for him.
"Yeah."
"Yeah, me too." Dean whispered back. He was becoming more aware that while their symptoms may have been the same in name, they were different in intensity. He worried about how bad Sam actually felt. The kid was a master at hiding pain and the fact that he was so readily admitting to it was not a good sign. But Dean had to believe what Cas had told him. "We'll be okay. We just need to keep resting. Apparently, Hell scars are the mother of all hangovers with a little detox thrown in just for fun."
"I don't like this," Sam said sadly.
"I know, kiddo. I don't either. Just rest, okay? Close your eyes." He gave Sam a gentle squeeze and carded a hand through his hair, stopping at the base of Sam's skull and rubbing a bit deeper to ease some of the tension. After several minutes of this, Sam was fast asleep again and limp as a rag doll, lying partly across Dean's chest and sinking partly into the gap between Dean and the back of the sofa. Dean dozed on and off, but eventually woke fully with a longing for a second helping of pie, and maybe another beer. He glanced over at the kitchen, so close, but getting there would involve moving Sam. Maybe if I move really slow... He carefully eased himself out from beneath his sleeping brother and tiptoed back to the kitchen.
But he didn't get more than a few steps away before Sam sat up, looking around.
"Right here, Sammy. Just getting a refill. You want anything?"
Sam blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. "No, I'm good."
Dean cut into the pie and kept an eye on Sam at the same time.
Sam got up and walked over to the wall of windows. He put his fingers up hesitantly to the glass and gazed out at the gorgeous expanse of land outside. Baby sat parked in the driveway, a patch of wildflowers to the left of her and a forest to the right. Sam smiled a bit upon seeing her. And beyond her, trees stretched on for as far as Sam could see. The tips swayed in the wind and darkness wove in and out between the trunks and branches. Sam watched the dark spaces where subtle movements caught his attention. He knew he should redirect his focus, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the dark spaces between the trees. And the more he stared, the more uneasy he became. He remembered then, what Lucifer had told him in the Cage… that he would always be surrounded by darkness. That he would never see Heaven. And if he did, it would only be for a moment and Lucifer would be there, waiting to take him back to Hell where he belonged. Where he deserved to be. An eternity away from his brother. His soulmate.
Sam studied the treeline carefully, watching the shadows and looking for any sign of someone, something watching back. There was no sign of an obvious threat, but Sam kept looking, feeling that something must be there. Something would be there… because he did not belong here. He did not belong.
No, Sam thought. No, there is NO way this is happening here. It's not real. It's not.
He repeated it over and over in his head, but he was certain that any moment, the Lucifer hallucinations would start up again. Or worse, they actual Lucifer would show up. His skin was crawling at the thought of being anywhere near him.
A breeze moved through the tops of the trees and the dark clouds hung heavy over the house. Dean took note as Sam's fingers gripped tightly at the edge of the window. He was trembling slightly as he closed his eyes and slowly turned away. He took deep steadying breaths as he slid down the wall.
"Hey, hey, hey, Sammy?" Dean bolted around the kitchen island and rushed to him, taking him by the shoulders. "What?"
Sam swallowed back a sob. He was sucking in breaths of air and folding himself up impossibly small.
"Sammy?"
"I think… I think h-he's out there. And if he's out there, he'll find me. He'll take me back… I know he will, I know-" The words were spilling out of his mouth in borderline hysteria. Dean had never seen him so terrified.
"Sammy, who are you talking about? Who is out there?"
Sam sucked in a shaky breath and let it out. "Lucifer."
"What?" Dean's insides went cold. He jerked his head towards the window, instinctively looking for danger, but then quickly realized there was nothing there. He looked back at Sam who had his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers clenched tightly over his knees.
"I can...feel him watching me-" Sam looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.
"No! No, Sam. He's dead and gone, you hear me? I promise you, he's-"
"I don't want him near me. I can't do this again, I can't-"
"Sammy-"
Sam was shaking and fighting a losing battle with tears. "H-he told me I would never get to be here. This is a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here, Dean. I'm not supposed to-"
"Yes you are, Sam-"
"No, I'm not! The demon blood, I'm not clean- I'm not supposed to be here!"
"Baby, stop!" Dean demanded in a rush love and protectiveness so fierce it startled even him for a moment. He took Sam's face in his hands. "You are absolutely supposed to be here. Do you hear me? You. Belong. Here."
Sam's eyes opened and locked with Dean's seeking, and finding, an anchor. He took a deep breath and looked around as though coming out of a trance.
"You belong here," Dean soothed. "With me. Forever." He pushed Sam's hair back gently from his face. Sam had calmed a bit, but his breath caught in small hiccups as he tried to settle down.
Things had gone too far, Dean decided. "Sam, I'm calling Cas-"
"NO!" Sam shot back, looking at Dean with terror in his eyes. "No, Dean, don't. I'm fine-"
"Why not?"
Sam's face crumpled as he hung his head in shame. "I can't… just not right now."
Dean ran a hand over Sam's bowed head. "Okay. Okay, Sammy."
But it was too late. Cas had appeared beside the sofa. Sam's back was to him so he didn't notice, but Dean shot a warning look at the angel and gave the slightest shake of his head.
Cas nodded. He won't know I'm here, Dean.
Cas's lips had not moved, but Dean clearly heard every word. He was caught off guard for a second, but he had bigger things to worry about than the fact that Cas was now able to communicate telepathically, because through a shaky sob, Sam uttered words that took his breath away. "Dean… sometimes I can still feel him…" Sam looked physically ill to even be talking about it. "but I can't feel you. What if that connection Cas is talking about is... with him and not you?"
"Sammy... why would you think that?" Dean asked, taking Sam by the shoulders and trying to meet his gaze. He was horrified by the idea and by the fact that the idea was even in Sam's head in the first place.
Sam would not look at him. "Because… the demon blood and… the… Cage…" He was crying hard enough now that he couldn't finish his train of though, but Dean got the gist of it.
"Sam," Dean whispered as he pulled his trembling little brother to his chest and held him.
What the HELL am I supposed to do with this? Dean thought silently at the angel, shooting him a glare and frantically hoping this new way of speaking was a two way street. He thinks Lucifer is here!
He's not here. He no longer exists. Sam is shedding the horrors of his time in the Cage. Be patient with him. Be gentle. This is going to be hard, but I promise you, he'll be all right. You are completely safe here.
Hard? This is going to be hard? Dean realized with some surprise that telepathic screaming was just as satisfying as actual screaming. Cas, he thinks he's got some kind of connection with the Devil! What the ever loving f-"
Dean, Cas raised a hand to stop him. The best thing you can do for him is to stay calm and reassure him that he has no ties to Lucifer. Reassure him about all of his doubts about himself, about you, about… here.
Here? Cas I have doubts about here! I'm having the same doubts about being here as Sam is!
Cas nodded again. And I'm telling you that you belong here. You will be together here and your souls will heal. And until that happens, you'll have doubts and you will have to trust me that you will be all right. I can be here to tell you this as many times as you need me to. Right now, Sam's soul is working particularly hard to release the damage he endured. This is a very deep scar, and these memories have helped to bury his connection to you, but it will heal.
Can you… Dean looked pleadingly at him, not even sure what he wanted Cas to do. The angry fire was dying down and now he was just scared.
Cas shook his head. No, Dean. There is very little I can do to help with this. I would only be masking symptoms and slowing the process. And besides, he doesn't want my help. He only wants you right now.
But I… Dean was at a loss to know how on earth, or better yet, how in Heaven he could possibly support Sam through something this awful. Am I... enough?
Cas smiled knowingly. Dean, you are everything. And with that, he disappeared from sight.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed Sam closer to him, hoping the angel knew what he was talking about.
