I am really sorry for the LOOOONG breaks in between updates. I'm real busy with school.
And I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, liked and followed this story so far. I am sorry I am not able to answer your reviews at the moment.
Fields Of Jasmine
Chapter 33 ~ The End of Days
It was Dean's end of days.
It was his apocalypse.
His absolute disaster.
His breakdown.
His fault.
When he returned to the motel, practically bursting into their room with an apology on his lips, the realization that Sam wasn't there anymore hit him hard. No, it didn't just hit him hard. It pulled the ground out from under his feet, made his heart stop.
It shattered him to the very core of his soul.
When his oxygen-starved brain signaled his lungs to breathe, he finally remembered to inhale.
Dean stared helplessly at the duffel bags that were still on the table. He examined the room the way a hunter would.
Sam had left everything behind. He'd taken nothing with him. Nothing, not even his duffel bag. Then again, why would he have taken it with him? Hadn't Dean told him that he was only a burden? Not in those exact words, but he had…
Dean couldn't tell why, but he knew that Sam was gone, really gone. He might have gone for a walk to settle his mind…
He could have.
But Sam hadn't.
The thought of Sam being out there, without anything useful to defend himself… Nothing but his fists, at least, and his mind…
What he had said to Sam had been too severe. He'd practically thrown him out, told him to leave. He had literally broken up with Sam.
So Sam surely hadn't taken any weapons with him… not after Dean made it clear that he owned nothing.
No wonder Sam felt like leaving – like doing exactly what his mate had told him to do. He had given Sam an ultimatum, and Sam had done the only viable thing at the time: he had tried to negotiate.
But Dean hadn't listened. He realized that now, he hadn't listened, and now Sam was gone. He hadn't been ready to debate, hadn't wanted to debate at all.
Sam had tried to explain, to make him understand, and Dean had pushed him away. Practically told him that what he had felt, what he had seen, was only his imagination. That he didn't believe the omega, and most of all, didn't TRUST him enough to try to figure it out together.
Sam thought that Dean had broken up with him, and that he'd have to find out about Orthos's child on his own. Because his mate – ex-mate, Sam would assume – wouldn't want to ask questions before pulling the trigger. He hadn't even given Sam the chance to prove his theory.
Sam couldn't be far, though. There hadn't been any cars in the parking lot, and he didn't have money. There weren't a lot of cars passing by, either, so Sam had to be walking.
The omega was a clever kid. He wouldn't hitchhike his way back to the salvage yard.
Then again, Dean had told him he was putting Bobby and the others in danger if he took him back to Singer's Salvage, which might mean that Sam wouldn't head back to Sioux Falls, either.
Where would he go if there was no place left for him to hole up?
Dean had no clue...
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam didn't know either.
He was wandering along a dirt road, had been for quite some time now. He had no clue where to go. He could go back to Harry, ask him for help. Then again, the short guy had helped him enough already – a lot more, actually, than he was supposed to.
At the moment it was still warm enough that he wasn't freezing. It was a nice April afternoon, in fact… if it weren't for the knowledge that it'd get cool soon again, and that the nights were still quite chilly.
His thoughts drifted back to Dean and what he had said, bringing fresh tears to his sore eyes. He debated with himself over going back to the motel and trying to talk to Dean again.
Sam didn't know how much time had passed, how long he'd been wandering around. He sighed and rubbed his tired face, wincing as the movement of his left arm strained the bruised muscles in his back. Hell, he hadn't known that they were even connected somehow.
"Stupid bitch," he murmured to himself. "Ruinin' everything. Ruining the one thing." He held his head down, watching the tips of his boots as they brushed long green grass aside. "Screwin' everything up."
This wasn't what Sam had wanted to happen. Maybe he should've shut up about it. Shouldn't have brought it up, or at least have waited to tell him.
Any-who. It was too late now to change that. The cat was out of the bag.
Sam wouldn't be able to hurt the thing, he knew he wouldn't. And he sure couldn't stand there and watch Dean killing it. He simply couldn't.
As much as it tore his heart, deep in his soul he knew he couldn't. Even though his child wasn't human at all (yes, he knew it was a parasite, that it'd have killed him if it hadn't been for Dean and Bobby and Jim and the others), he wouldn't be able to kill it or watch it being killed.
Because – somehow – it was still his child.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean was furious.
Furious at Sam for really taking off, and furious at himself for letting it go this far. For leaving, and most of all for leaving Sam behind and accusing him of daydreaming while he needed support.
The alpha had packed their things together and thrown them into the backseat of his baby. And just when he'd been about to start his engine, the old creepy lady had stood in front of the hood of his car and stared at him with pitch-black eyes.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam held his left side with his right hand as he claimed another couple of yards before he stopped, breathing heavily, his legs hurting.
Taking the dirt road had been a good idea – at least back then. Now that he had to be about two to three hours away from the motel, it should've been safe to get back on the highway. Maybe someone would stop and take him with them.
Then again... he wasn't quite sure whether that'd be such a good idea. Demons could be everywhere.
And what felt kind of a bit worse at the moment were those cramps in his lower abdomen. Cramps he knew which would improve in a day or two, the signs of his first heat after having the parasite removed.
There truly wasn't better timing, right?
Sam actually didn't care how, the main thing was him getting into some sort of town and finding a halfway decent place to spend the night. He truly hadn't thought this one through. He hadn't counted on going into heat, and he sure as hell hadn't thought this morning that his day would end this way.
First things first.
As far as he was concerned, no one would turn an omega down if he asked for a room for the night, even when he didn't have money. Sam was sure that whatever kind of help he'd need, he'd get it – assuming someone came along and let him jump on for a ride.
Then again... all of that was easier said than done.
Omegas might be praised and rare, but he was different.
Despite remembering now who he'd been before, he felt troubled at the thought of talking to strangers, letting alone asking one for help. Stopping a car was one thing, but getting into it was in a completely other league.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean cursed silently as he switched on the wipers. It had been raining for half an hour now, and it was starting to get dark – not good conditions at all for taking an extended walk.
What made the dark pit in his stomach grow immensely was thinking about Sam being out there on his own, weakened. And no, he wasn't underestimating the omega. But he also knew not to overestimate the man's physical condition, either.
He had moved stiffly, and had winced. His voice had sounded rough, as if the swelling wasn't completely gone yet, and most of all... the omega wasn't back in shape yet. He wasn't used to moving around that much. So yes, Dean dared to say that Sam was in no condition to be out there.
It wasn't only because he was his freaking omega, and because he had yelled at him and hurt him. A punch in the face would've been more humane.
There weren't a lot of dirt roads Sam could've taken, unless he cut cross-country. Dean dearly hoped he hadn't, because then he would be wasting time here. Precious time.
Panic dug its claws into the ex-hunter's chest at the thought of what could have happened to his omega. The possibility that he could've hitchhiked. That he could be god-knows-where already without Dean knowing.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam tugged the collar of his leather jacket up so that the back of his neck wasn't as exposed to the cool wind and heavy raindrops. Just his luck, wasn't it?
The water was already soaking his hair and dripping from his bangs, which curled into themselves. It was soaking the collar of his shirt beneath the jacket. His boots definitely weren't waterproof, either. His feet were making squelching noises with every step he took, and he was slowing down.
Sam couldn't believe his luck right now. There was no damn car coming along. No house. Hell, not even a sign that someone ever came along here besides wild animals.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
At first, Dean couldn't believe what the headlights of his car caught about a hundred yards ahead. There was something moving along the side of the road, and it looked damn well human to him.
Of course, now that it was nearly completely dark, it could also be his imagination. Wishful thinking. The ex-hunter flinched inwardly at his words. He had accused Sam of acting that way, of wishing for something that existed only in his imagination. Of daring to believe in the possibility that not everything that was born from something evil had to be evil.
Dean pushed the accelerator down, though not too much, afraid that he could land in the ditch. His hopes of finding Sam would be destroyed then, since there sure as hell wouldn't be anyone out here to pull his car back on the road… not before dawn at least, anyway. He hadn't seen another car for the past hour or two, since he had decided to search the highway going east.
The figure at the side of the road grew taller, the closer he came. Its silhouette grew more and more defined, the closer he got. And it definitely was human.
Dean Winchester couldn't believe what he was seeing. When only a couple of yards remained between the hood of his baby and the person wandering the road at that time of – and weather of – the day, he realized who it was.
"Sam," he murmured. His eyes widened, the growing fatigue gone all of a sudden, a sickening anticipation taking its place. Of course it was Sam. He'd recognize that jacket anywhere. He'd recognize the way Sam walked, even when – right now – he looked a bit stiff.
That, and the slight pull he felt inside his chest that tugged him towards the wanderer, were proof enough to him that this had to be HIS.
The ex-hunter rolled the passenger's side window down as he pulled his foot from the accelerator and let his baby roll up beside the walking man. He leaned over, just enough so that he could catch a glimpse of the omega's face and have a sideways glance at the road every few seconds.
"Get in, Sam," he said, a bit harder and not very emphatically at all. He wanted to sound soft and kind of loving, but the part of him that was still pissed got in the way of it.
The omega – HIS omega – ignored him and kept on walking.
As much as Sam wanted to look at Dean, as much as he wanted to get in that damn car and be beside his mate again, he couldn't. There was a part of him called pride, and that part wouldn't just let himself be commanded around when things were unclear between the both of them.
"Sam. Get in the damn car. You're catchin' pneumonia out there." Dean had figured that even if he'd find Sam, convincing him to come with him or even talk to him wouldn't be that easy. He cleared his throat, quickly realizing that there was no way Sam would follow his plea to get into the car while he was using his commanding voice.
This didn't work that way. Nope.
Sam didn't work that way.
The ex-hunter shifted the gearstick into park and ripped the keys from the ignition. Dean literally jumped out of the car and hurried around to block Sam's way before he could get past the Impala's hood. Cold rain hit his face and hair, making him shudder. Within seconds, he was soaked from the water falling from above.
"Sammy. Wait." Dean put both hands in the air, showing his open palms to the omega. "Sam."
The younger man stopped. He did nothing, just stared blankly at Dean. A weirdly familiar scent lingered in the air. It was Sam's, definitely, though somehow different. A bit warmer and sweeter than usual, with a touch of something that made the hairs of the back of Dean's neck stand up.
"I'm sorry." He had no clue what else to say. At least not right now. It was wet. It was cold. And he fucking hated the rain when it was cold. "Sam. I'm sorry... I didn't mean what I said earlier."
Sam eyed him, his face blank and unreadable. For the first time, the alpha couldn't feel a thing coming from his mate. Literally nothing.
"You meant it. And you were right. Your father was right." Sam's voice somehow didn't fit. It was calm and soft, and so not suitable for the emotionless way he was looking at Dean. "I'm getting you all in danger. I'm threatening you and Bobby and the others simply by being there. I don't want that. I don't want to have any more blood on my hands than I already have."
Sam pulled back when the alpha tried to reach for him.
"Sam. That's not what I meant. Okay, maybe it was what I meant, but it's not true and you know that. We both know that, right? I was an idiot to say those things. Bobby's salvage is a sanctuary. Nothing evil comes in, nothing. You wouldn't get anyone into danger." Dean sighed as Sam pulled away from his touch once more. "I was talking bullshit. I was angry. I didn't understand, okay? I don't understand now, either, why you'd want to believe that that... THING... could possibly not be one of those evil bastards. I can't. And that's the truth. I'm not lying to you here. I grew up with the belief that everything born from something evil is evil, period. There ain't no gray, just black and white."
Sam continued to stare at him, though his eyes were moving now, too. Drifting towards Dean's lips every now and then while he listened.
"I was stupid enough to think that you'd agree with me if you'd realize you had nowhere to go," he admitted finally. "If you were dependent on me. I was wrong. I don't want it to be that way." Dean's chest rose and fell. "Please, Sammy. Let's talk this out. Let's get in the car and find somewhere dry to discuss this."
"You broke up with me. That's what you did. And you are right. You were right," Sam said, his voice shaky, lips quivering from the cold. "It's not safe for you guys. They came after me and they're gonna come after me again. They will, and then you all are going to die. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."
Dean's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth and closed it again, weighing what he was going to say and deciding against it.
"Would you let me decide whether I want to risk something for you or not? Would you let us choose, instead of making decisions for us? 'Cause the way I see it... I'm damn cool with that. And dammit, Sam, forget what I said, okay? I was angry."
"You still are," the omega remarked.
"Hell yes, I am. But not for the reasons you think I am, okay? I'm angry 'cause you left."
"You sent me away."
"But I didn't mean it."
"You did back then."
"Well, yeah, maybe. But after I had time to think about it, I decided I was an ass, okay?" No human ever saw Dean Winchester making puppy dog eyes. EVER.
Sam tilted his head to the left side.
"Sam. Please." Yes, Dean Winchester was begging. He'd fall onto his knees right there if it meant that Sam'd get in the car with him. He wouldn't shy away from anything right now that was even mildly verging on a chick-flick moment. "Let's talk this out before either of us makes the wrong decision."
The omega gave him a short nod. He felt like telling Dean no, telling him to get in the car and drive away, that he'd be good on his own. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because deep down, it was Dean he wanted – even when everything seemed complicated at the moment. He himself seemed complicated. His thoughts, his emotions. Everything.
Heavy desperation lingered in the alpha's scent. That and fear, and angst, and want. Dean took a step towards his baby and opened the passenger's door
"I'll mess up your car," Sam spoke up.
"The Impala's not gonna catch a cold, Sammy," the hunter said softly, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Sam ducked his head and slid into the passenger's seat without responding. He didn't look up when Dean hurried around the car and climbed back behind the wheel.
The tension in the ex-hunter's shoulders began to slowly ease away as soon as the engine roared to life and the wipers squeaked over the windshield. For the first time, Dean felt the cool rain water trickling down his neck and soaking the shirt beneath his jacket. He shuddered.
The alpha glanced over at Sam, snatching a glimpse of the shivering giant beside him. He had to have been soaking wet down to the underwear for quite some time. Dean glanced into the backseat for a second, but it was too dark to see if there was anything there Sam could wrap himself up in.
After listening to Sam's chattering teeth for ten miles or so, the alpha spoke up. "Check the backseat. I bet there's a blanket."
"Nah. I'm good," Sam murmured, his voice shaking. He curled tighter into himself and continued to stare out of the window.
"Bullshit." Dean stole a glance at his mate. Sam was still shivering. Even in the darkness, he could see the younger man's frame shake. "You're still freezing." He turned the heat up to maximum.
He wanted to ask him again what he'd been thinking to just leave like he had. But he already knew what the answers could be: Either there'd be none, or Sam'd tell him that Dean told him to go. And Dean Winchester didn't want to hear either of them.
"'m not." Sam knew very well that he sounded a bit like a petulant child right now, but he actually didn't care. He WAS freezing. But he also felt as if he was running hot on the inside.
First signs of a fever.
Those were the same signs for the "sickness" he used to get back at Savanger's. Of course, Sam knew now that it hadn't been a sickness at all. Now he knew that it meant that he'd go into heat very soon. Something he couldn't use right now at all.
"Yes, you are. The next damn motel we spot, we're stoppin' for the night," Dean grumbled. "My head's killin' me," he added, so very softly that it was barely audible, although still loud enough for Sam to hear.
That caught his attention enough to gaze at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, trying to gauge how bad off Dean was. The alpha didn't look comfortable from what he could see. There were deep creases at the corners of his right eye and his forehead was wrinkled.
"Stop starin', Sammy," he said half-jokingly, startling the omega.
"I wasn't staring... I was trying to figure out how badly off you really are," he murmured, training his eyes back out at the landscape.
~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~
The rest of the drive went by in complete silence between the two, only interrupted by the sound of the rain splattering against the windshield and the wind howling over the empty land. Half an hour later, they found a decent-looking motel at the outskirts of some small town called Hopkins, northeast of Northfolk.
Now that they were at the motel and already settled in their room, the silence seemed even worse. And above that – Dean sniffed… every now and then he could smell something weird. He even gazed around the room while he sat at the table, nursing a tumbler with amber-brown liquid in it and devouring his bacon-cheeseburger while Sam was in the bathroom taking a hot shower.
The ex-hunter shook it off. He couldn't tell what that scent could possibly mean. Maybe it was because Sam was still pissed, or it meant that Sam was about to get sick... He'd smelled it earlier in his car. A couple of miles after picking his omega up, the scent had thickened and left a lingering stench on Dean's clothes.
The alpha sighed and shook his head. There was no time to think about freaking scents. He had much bigger problems at hand. For example: Exactly how was he supposed to clear things up with Sam.
Seeing and feeling the omega's resistance was something completely new for him. Then again, they hadn't discussed anything of similar importance like that... THING, aka Sam's kid... before.
And Dean knew – just knew – that it had nothing to do with him, and that it didn't mean that Sam was putting that creature before him. He knew that. He had known it back then, too. He just hadn't wanted to discuss it.
And instead of telling Sam that, that it wasn't a good time to talk about that topic since his head was still sore and his muscles ached, the omega had carried on, and had started to explain himself and... it just had been too much.
... to be continued
