"We have work to do," he said. His voice was low, achingly restrained.
He slammed the trunk closed and, for once, I forgot to worry about my car.
-3-
Giving me his back, my brother turned towards the building. His words still hung in the air along with the metallic echo of the closed trunk. I could see he was holding his breath in anticipation of me saying something. It was almost as if he was daring me to, almost as if a response from me would give him the excuse to bolt. But I had no intention of picking a fight. He wouldn't make me take a side, because there were no sides.
"Yeah, we do," I rasped. "But not tonight."
Sam swirled and glared at me in defiance and with a spark of anger that reminded me too much of the vicious fire that had destroyed his life in the first place.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled between clenched teeth.
"From the looks of it, the firemen are going to be working for a while. They have to make sure the fire doesn't revive or spread out to the adjacent buildings."
"So we wait," he grunted.
"Even after they put out the fire, they'll probably go in to check the place out. There'll be an investigation and the place will be under surveillance, at least until tomorrow. There's no way we can go in now."
Sam shook his head. More than disagreement, his gesture held something of denial.
"It could be in there, Dean," he insisted, nostrils flaring. "It could still be in there."
"I don't think so."
"How can you be so sure?!"
"Sam…" I sighed, absently rubbing my injured hand.
God, I was tired. I couldn't say I had an answer for him; I was only working on a gut instinct. But I knew I was right. Besides, what I had said about the surveillance was true, and Sam knew it. More importantly though was the fact that there was no way I was letting my little brother go back into that apartment so soon. I simply couldn't do that right now.
Fortunately, Sam bit his lip and relented, averting his eyes and fixing them on the final throes of the fire as the emergency personnel worked. His shoulders slumped in defeat once more, and I was relieved that he wasn't going to fight me. But I also felt guilty, because somehow I was responsible for the speed at which he was falling apart since I had forced him to give up the last straw of determination that was keeping him together.
"Hey," I said, ghosting a hand over his arm and brushing my leather jacket that was still placed over his shoulders.
Sam tilted his chin to indicate he had heard me, but he still refused to look at me.
"Come on, there's nothing else we can do right now, man," I coaxed him. "Let's go find a motel?"
You and me, Sammy. You and me.
"No," he whispered and then swallowed thickly. I could see that he was self-conscious about how his voice trembled.
He looked terrible. His skin was taking an ashen tone and when he leaned slightly against the trunk of the car, it didn't take a genius to guess that he was getting dizzy. Even his lips were becoming purple.
"Sam, we can't go inside now," I said, still trying to reason with him. He wasn't up for it, and neither was I.
"It's not that…"
"Then what is it?" I asked, and forced myself to swallow down a wave of frustration.
"Jess—" Sam's Adam's apple wobbled, "She's still in there. I can't…leave her there. I won't."
I shook my head with a weary sigh. I could tell him I doubted there was anything left of Jessica to wait for, but that would be way too cruel. It wasn't Sam's fault that staying there was making me feel like a failure, nor that I wasn't too good at dealing with helplessness. Those were my issues, and Jessica was his girlfriend.
If it had been him inside the building, no force in the universe would have made me leave that spot. I also knew there would be no way to make him leave against his will.
If it had been him inside the building, I…I would have just…
No. No, no, no…
"Alright," I said, and then nodded.
Sam bit his lip harder and nodded back, but he still kept his eyes glued to the ground. I stepped closer, needing to feel him next to me and aching to offer him some kind of comfort. But because I didn't know how to comfort him, I ended up just leaning against the trunk by his side.
I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I remember being painfully aware of every single movement that Sam made; how he shifted wearily trying to stay on his feet, every time he licked his lips, drained of color, or ran his hand over his forehead which was shimmering in cold sweat. We waited and waited. I could feel the heat emanating from his body as eventually he listed against me. My body tingled protectively, and it took all I had in me not to wrap an arm around his shoulders and just bundle him into the car to get him out of there before he passed out. Sam shouldn't be there. He should be resting in a warm, safe room, where he could let his guard down and I could do the same. And then, maybe we could look in each other's eyes and somehow, somehow, will it all to be alright.
I was about to suggest that we wait in the car —where at least we would be sitting down—when a squad of paramedics, escorted by firemen, came out of the building. They were carrying a stretcher with a black plastic bag on it.
Sam straightened with a muffled grunt, and I tensed when he half-ran, half-staggered towards the group. The whole time, his eyes were fastened on the amorphous plastic bag. He was trying to meet the paramedics before they loaded their burden on the ambulance that would take his lover's body away. Swearing under my breath, I rushed behind him, bracing myself for the terrible scenario of having to pry my brother's hands off of his burned girlfriend's corpse.
However, one of the paramedics seemed to read Sam's intentions too and jumped in my brother's way to stop him. Sam stiffened when the stranger touched him, and I could see by his stance that he was ready to shove the guy out of the way. The paramedic was playing with fire. My brother wasn't on top of his game, but I knew that if he fought he'd probably win.
"Hey," I said, eyeing the paramedic meaningfully and quietly prompting him to back away. "I got him."
The man gave me a once over before giving a curt nod and stepping aside. I honestly expected Sam to jump towards the ambulance as soon as he was released. What really happened was that the moment he lost the support of the paramedic, my brother swayed and would have fallen to the ground if I hadn't caught him from behind in time.
"Sammy..."
I placed an arm around his stomach to steady him, and he let out the softest of moans to protest being stopped all over again. The paramedics were loading Jessica's body on the vehicle, and Sam's clammy hands were pulling at my arm and wrist.
"Sam, don't," I ordered, my voice gentle, but my tone firm.
Sam clasped my arm tightly and sagged a bit more against my chest, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Making sure that I would have a good hold on him if his legs gave way, I shifted to balance us both. But other than letting him use me as support, I was afraid to touch him, because I was unsure of what his reaction would be if I did. He showed no sign that he could hear me, and the only signs that he was alive were the deadly grip he had on my arm and the tremors that were starting to take over his body.
"Sammy? C'mon," I whispered against his shoulder after the ambulance door was closed and the vehicle took off. "It's over."
I realized just how inappropriate those words were the moment they came out of my mouth, whether they referred to the life Sam had tried to build for himself, or, more ironically, to the pain for the loss of a life that had just started. But Sam made no comment and complied. His Winchester mask hadn't survived the removal of Jessica's corpse and now he was a mess. An empty, emotionally spent, worn out mess that leaned dazedly on me as I gave him a little pull and guided him to the car.
oooooooooooooOooooooooooooo
I found a cheap rat-hole of a motel about twenty minutes out of town. It wasn't the time to be picky, because I needed to get us somewhere private while I still could reach my brother. He had remained silent during the whole ride, his eyes glazed but devoid of tears. Even though the heater was at full blast, he kept his arms wrapped tightly against his body like he was cold. I swallowed hard. Sam's behavior was freaking me out, but at least he was responsive. At least to me. At least so far.
That's why I had to hurry.
I checked us in and went back to the car. Sam met my eyes for a second, then dropped his gaze and followed me to the room. Finally there, he sat heavily on his bed as I left my duffel bag on the floor. Then, I become conscious for the first time that Sam's bag wasn't there anymore. It probably burned up along with the rest of his stuff. And even though clothes and books where certainly replaceable, the thought made me feel unaccountably sad.
Sam remained still while I unpacked. When I finished, I sat across from him on my bed and bumped his knee with mine to grab his attention.
"We'll go get you some clothes tomorrow," I told him matter-of-factly. I didn't want to make it sound as if it was a big deal, "You can use something of mine tonight. I don't know, something more comfortable?"
Sam shook his head no. I took a deep breath, knowing what my brother was thinking.
"Sam, you need to get some rest," I told him. "You gotta at least try."
"I don't think I can," he avowed frailly.
I nodded in understanding. I could imagine what he was seeing every time he closed his eyes. But that wasn't the point. The point was that the next few days were going to be hell, and he'd need all his strength to get through them. I couldn't be sure of what the following day would bring, but at least for that first night, I was going to make sure that Sam got some sleep.
"Here," I muttered, fishing in my pocket for the pill the doctor had given me before. Then I reached out for the bottle of water that was on the bedside table. "Take this."
Sam eyed the pill with a little frown. I cringed internally, because I hated pain-killers with a passion—if there was anything that scared the crap out of me, it was feeling numb— and I was aware that Sam did too.
"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.
"It'll help you sleep," I said, my stomach in knots.
God, this sucked. I hated to drug my brother and now he'd probably hate me too. But he just glanced at me, then back at the pill. Then he took it without objecting. His implicit trust in me and my word elicited a pang of guilt that tightened my throat. The truth was I really had no damn clue how to make this right for him, and it felt wrong to be acting like I did.
Suddenly, when he was about to reach out for the water, he froze. His face broke into an expression of complete desolation and doubt. It took a moment for me to realize what was stopping him: if he took the glass of water, both of his hands would be busy and he wouldn't be able to keep my jacket around his shoulders. It was painful to see how my brother, who was the strongest person I knew beside my father, was torn apart over such a simple decision.
Without thinking, I put a hand on his shoulder, effectively keeping the jacket in place. That simple physical contact seemed to put my flip-flopping stomach at ease, but I could only wonder if it was having the same effect on him. Then Sam met my eyes and for the briefest of seconds I could see gratitude flashing behind his pupils. After a beat, his eyes dulled again, but he took the water bottle and swallowed the pill. As soon as he could spare a hand, he fisted my jacket again and I, reluctantly, released it.
"Lay down." My voice was thick, and I knew I couldn't blame the smoke anymore.
"Are you gonna leave?" he asked, thinly.
"What?"
"You wanted to go. You wanted me to go with Simon and the others and leave."
"I wasn't leaving, Sam. I just thought—"
"It's okay… I mean, I understand. You don't have to be here."
I closed my eyes and sighed internally. If only I could read him like I used to. One minute he was looking for an excuse to jump down my throat, and the next he was looking at me as if I was the only person left in the world. I just wished I could tell if he wanted me there or not.
"Well, tonight I'm not going anywhere," I replied. It was vague, but at least it was a safe answer. "Just lay down, alright?"
He stared at me for a minute, but his eyelids were starting to droop. He fought the pull of sleepiness at first but then finally complied and lay on his side. Having given up getting him to wear anything else, I just took a spare blanket out of the closet and covered him. Then I turned off the light and sat on a chair next to the bed allowing his eyes to find mine in the dark whenever he searched for them during the shorter and shorter spaces of time he was able to keep his eyes open between drowsy blinks.
I don't remember if my hand throbbed or not. But I do remember watching my little brother's face as his muscles slowly relaxed. I remember watching him sleep through the night holding my jacket tightly. I remember thinking that it was good that a part of me was wrapped around him and apparently gave him some comfort.
But I still couldn't shake off the feeling that it should have been my arms cradling him.
oooooooooooooOooooooooooooo
I know I know, shorter than usual, but it was like the right place to leave it...I hope. Thanks to all the readers!! And the biggest hug for my beta! To be continued...