The drive dragged on for a lot longer than Dean would've liked. He wanted to reassure Sam, past all of his brother's once-overs and jaw clenches and fidgeting at the wheel, but none of his usual tactics seemed to be working now. Not even a blatant request to keep things silent for a while had much effect. The music was left to play loud and obnoxiously for three songs before Sam dialed it down to a barely audible hum, asking about something or other and implying he wanted to talk more about it, but was "letting Dean start", or whatever kind of positive-attitude thing Sam had in mind right now. He didn't want any part in it. Keeping his hormonal emotions in check was a big enough challenge right now, while just watching the passing scenery and thinking of nothing but the stupid patterned clothes he wore—and how the hell he'd gotten into them. To try to turn around and crank the music again, to risk making eye contact with his brother and being forced to answer his bullshit question—that wasn't happening. Dean was comfortable where he sat leaning to the right, the cool window biting into his cheek and the puffy jacket blocking his view of Sam. Not all he'd said had been a lie, either. It was definitely weird and hunting would suck more than usual, but there were still a few ups. Maybe now he'd be able to turn those puppy-dog eyes around on his brother.
Eventually they stopped for an early lunch, where Sam had access to wifi on his laptop and Dean swallowed back as much as he could. There was still half the amount of ordered food left on his plate by the time he had the inclination to throw up the meager scraps he'd eaten. But… the bacon was still warm. Nobody can just toss out bacon.
"Hey, Dean." Sam's voice was smaller past his computer, spoken as though Sam wasn't sure if his brother was listening—or if Dean was sitting across from him. "I think I've got something for the next town over."
He leaned in a bit, getting reminded of his height when he wasn't nearly as far across the table as he would've liked. "Let's go."
"Go-? Aren't you gonna finish…?" Sam's gaze flicked up and lingered awhile on Dean.
He might've cracked a joke about finally becoming uninvisible to his younger brother, but remembering everything left on his plate had instantly coloured Dean's cheeks red, and he pulled away with the jacket's hood billowing around him. It was like a little barrier right now—which he realized was absolutely pitiful, but whatever. The jacket hadn't been his choice, anyways.
"So you're done?" The laptop between them drifted shut, revealing Sam's plate of fruit salad to be not yet cleared. He vaguely recalled Sam doing research after having finished his food long before Dean, but over the years his brother must have learned to ration out his time—especially since diners were the one place they could relax in for a while despite the chaos of the outside world, and Dean hated to leave the smell of grease behind. It'd probably take Sam another five minutes to finish, even though the dish he'd ordered was a woefully minor amount. He had no idea how Sam kept up his physique eating so few watery health foods.
"Yeah," he mumbled, still slouched against the booth wall and contemplating the violent demise of his pig. Sam seemed to hesitate with a fork, wondering if he should take the time to finish eating, so Dean jumped up and snagged the laptop with a quieted shout from his younger brother. "Relax, I'm checking out the case while you slurp up that yellow liquid shit." Really. The fruit salad looked like something a large animal would puke back up.
Sam scoffed a reply and went back to eating. Things felt normal, in that split second.
OOO
The hunt looked like a normal haunted house worn down from a few decades of being unable to sell, causing recent disturbances for those living and traveling nearby. It didn't have very much information about the previous owners. The brothers had rented a nearby motel room while Sam tried digging up any more clues concerning deaths in the area and Dean skipped out to grab "supplies" while clothing stores were still open. The look he'd gotten from one of the cashiers didn't seem promising for what Sam would think of his haul.
"What the hell?"
He held up the bags—yes, plural—with a grin. "I'm stocked for the next decade."
"More like the next month." His sibling was still gaping from where he sat at the table, watching Dean shuffle through the plastic bags to come up with some plain clothes and decent sneakers. "Dean, you're going to grow out of all that. Did you max out the cards?"
His grin dissolved into something more closely resembling a self-conscious smirk, brows furrowing a bit. "No. It's not like I went to some chick's store for spoiled brats."
Sam's look begged to differ.
Whatever. "I'm gonna change outta these stripes. Are we swinging by the creepy house later today, before it gets dark?"
"Yeah, I guess we should. There's nothing online."
He gave a slight nod. It was the first shower he'd had in a day or two—or three, he never really counted—and he was a bit curious to see if the showerhead was above him again.
But, opportunities were opportunities.
He let the water run without stepping in. After a minute, he crept back to the door and listened. Sam really never disappointed. As soon as Dean was out of earshot for a minute, the kid was dialing as many numbers as he could think of. He could pick out only a few words between the shower running, the closed door, and Sam doing his best to whisper—but the overall idea was enough. Sam was working hard to break the curse's effect, Mark be damned.
Normally Dean doesn't think in showers. And he really shouldn't have done it today, because it only allowed more time for Sam to try calling people and finding a cure. But he was grateful to finally get those quick, concerned gazes off of him for a while, even if it meant that he took forever scrubbing out the grime from his hair, and Sam would only watch him more closely when he came back out. The glances weren't terrible, per se. They didn't hold the slightest bit of malice. But they were annoying, if not degrading. This was the best scenario they could have hoped for—both of them alive and well, without any new type of apocalypse or betrayal to split them apart, and Sam hated it. He'd taken the easy ghost hunt to ease Sam's fears, and he'd take a hundred more if it meant they were still helping people and keeping the Mark off of him, but that wasn't enough for Sam. He knew his brother just worried that he wouldn't be able to handle the muscle loss—thanks for the vote of confidence—but if they found a way to get him back to normal, it'd be downright awful. He loathed the feelings it gave him. The urges he always had. The way he'd been alright with killing Sam, because it was a new kind of challenge. It'd been fun. Without Sam he wouldn't have had to feel any sort of guilt—and so he'd hunted down his little brother, a smile coming to his lips at every moment as he thought about how frightened Sam had to be—unable to kill Dean no matter how much he wanted to, being sought after with a blade by the one person who'd always been right there for him. It was a sweet justice.
No, nonononono—he wasn't going back to that. Just the idea of being able to think in such a way made the soap along his fingers feel distant and warped. He knew Sam didn't want any of that, wouldn't want Dean to be affected by such powerful, evil magic. But at the same time, it was exactly what Sam wanted, and for a minute his chest swelled with dark hatred that hitched his breaths into little sobs, the patheticness of it masked by the water pouring over his now much smaller face.
OOO
Driving to the presumably haunted house was about as fun as last time—or, basically, an incredibly awkward couple of minutes in which neither of the brothers said very much. Their silences were normally comfortable and easy, arising when there was nothing more to be said and both of them were worn out. This was clearly not the case today. They each tried to pay attention to something else—adjusting the sun visors against the late afternoon sun, how the music should be playing much louder right now but the last thing anyone needed was a more pissed Sam… But each was aware that the other had something on their mind going unsaid. It remained that way. Sam kept his lips sealed—probably not hoping to play his cards early—and Dean knew that if he mentioned much, the illusion that'd been so easy to maintain as an adult wouldn't hold up nearly as well now. Normally, the thoughts he had in his head were the ones that showed, but even when he trained his brain on a particular, harmless thought, things he didn't see coming just poured out of his mouth and into his expression, often before he'd really noticed them. It was like trying to wade through a swampy mind of cotton balls—everything was distant and forgotten in place of hormonal fantasies until they just surfaced right in front of you, and it was too late to steer away. Even now, he pictured the coy looks of a couple friends who'd turned away from the bar, blonde wavy hair dragging his eyes down to the tight—
"Dean?"
"Mmmuh?" He jolted upwards a tiny bit, his back suddenly protesting the angle he'd sat at. Wasn't his spine supposed to be young and fresh? The one good upside, and apparently he wasn't allowed to have it. "Yeah?"
Sam turned back to driving before he got a decent read on his face. "I said," the bitchiness already back to his voice in full force, which was, hopefully, a sign of him becoming more comfortable again, "Do you want to take a few practice shots in the house's backyard before we try snooping around?"
"What the hell for?" This time, he took more care to discern Sam's gaze, even as his brother continued to stare down the road, eyes flicking this way and that for neighborhood kids to avoid glimpsing around the car. Still, his younger sibling seemed to be warding off a grin. Dean considered himself lucky over the fact that Sam had gone straight back to business.
He only earned himself an over-dramatic sigh. "To gauge their kicks."
"Sam, we've been using the same guns for ten years, maybe more? Apart from the times I forgot a pistol." Which wasn't his fault, but would undoubtedly be brought up. "I'm pretty sure I know their firing power and how much to tilt a shot."
Sam paused for a second. His voice, when it finally came, was suddenly soft. "It's different now."
"No, it's not." His voice returned quick and bitter, knowing as the words came out that they weren't going to help. Shouting "yes" and "no" back and forth wasn't solving anything. Dean scoured his muddied mind for something else to say, but that's all there was—no, nothing's different, we'll catch smaller hunts and take shit as it comes, I haven't changed, it's all just FINE, why can't you accept a gift horse and shut up? "It isn't…. It's… not…"
"Look, I don't think the ghost will appear, but if it does…" Blah blah blah, being cautious. Blah blah blah, something about bruises—as if he's never gotten bruised after firing a shotgun in panic before. "... I know you know how to work it…" But not truly, because if he did, he wouldn't be rambling and suggesting this shit. "I trust you, it's just…" Shut up. "... At least you don't have digging duty for a few years."
Dean almost grinned at the joke, thinking it typical of Sam to steal one of his own methods that had never quite worked between the brothers. "Sure, whatever." His heart wasn't set in the discussion, and it certainly had no place in his answer.
The mop of hair swished as his brother met his gaze for the first time since they'd hopped in the Impala. "So… you'll practice a bit?" Sam asked incredulously.
Dean shrugged, doing his damn hardest to focus his thoughts on something else before any true emotions revealed themselves without his consent. "Just make it quick."
A/N:
Aaaaaand we're back! :) This baby's getting a new chapter about once a week, and there'll probably be 20-30 chapters total, depending on how long I chop 'em up to be.
Kathy, 'Guest', radpineapple, and Wildfire's Flame- I know it's been a little while since the last post, but I've been excited to continue ever since seeing such supportive reviews! I also received reviews on other stories from BloodforInk, goldacharmed, Wildfire's Flame, Black Fungus, and Secretwrittenword. Thank you everyone! :) Stay frosty.
