-1Bar Fights and Bullets
Chapter 28
Two and a half months later
Dean glared intensely at the calendar on the far wall of his room, the anger inside of him, the distain, the disappointment seeming far to much to bare. He wanted to hit something, to destroy something, to scream… rolling over with a grunt he buried his head into his pillow and fought against the thoughts in his head to find sleep once again. Mind numbing and welcoming sleep, he never wanted to move again, never wanted to lift his head from where it lay… He just wanted to waste away into the nothingness he felt ravaging his insides… What the hell was the point anymore anyway?
Putting away the last of the dishes from the drain board Sam looked at the clock and frowned a little, it was near noon and he hadn't heard a sound from his brothers room. "Strange." He breathed out to himself before shifting to look at his father, "Dad?"
John looked up from the paper he was reading "Yeah?"
"Have you checked on Dean this morning?"
The older man shook his head a little in response, "No… I just figured he's been working himself so hard lately he probably needed the rest."
Sam tossed the dish towel on to the counter top, "Well… He's had enough rest for the day." He mumbled to himself before making his way to Dean's room and opening the door, scoffing at the sight before him.
"Dean, it's almost noon, time to get up man."
"No." came an immediate and bitter reply from the man whose head was now buried beneath the before mentioned pillow.
"Come on." Sam grumbled making his way to the bed and giving his brothers left foot a hard shake. "We got work to do."
"Go away Sammy."
The younger brother's brows came together in confusion, "What's wrong?"
"Nothin' I'm just not getting out of bed…. Ever again." The last part was purposely said soft enough to go unheard.
"Are you sick?"
"Yeah."
"You don't sound sick." Sam made his way up toward the head of the bed and kneeled down lifting the pillow from Dean's face and studying him, "And you don't look sick…"
"Well I am now go away!" Came a low and catty grunt as the disturbed man snatched the pillow back and replaced it over his head.
An irritated sigh escaped the tall man's lips as he ran a hand through his hair, "Damnit Dean… What the hell is this about?"
"Get out. Before I throw you out Sam."
"Well if you have to throw me out at least you'll be outta bed."
"You think I'm joking?"
"I think you bluffing."
Dean hissed and threw the pillow off of his face his eyes shoving daggers into his brothers worried and confused gaze. "Get out and leave me alone you stubborn pain in the ass."
"Piss off." Sam rose to his feet and took his brother's wrist pulling on it hard, "You're getting out of bed whether you want to or now."
His blood boiling, anger rising on instinct Dean rose his torso up off the bed and pulled his wrist back before shoving his brother hard into the wall only feet away.
Instantly shock filled Sam's features as he felt his back smack hard against the plaster and he slid down it with a sharp intake of breath before watching Dean retrieve his pillow and go back to his previous position without a word.
"Fine." He spat out coldly keeping the pain from his voice as he stood and began to move toward the door. His eye caught sight of the calendar on the wall and the emotionally wounded man froze in his steps studying the numbers closely.
His heart sunk and he understood.
Turning on his heels reservation in every step he made his way back to the bed and sat down next to his brothers form which remained tense and rigid. "Dean…"
"Look Sam, I'm sorry could you just-"
"You can't hide in here all day man."
"Watch me."
"We still have work to do…"
"I don't feel like it. I just want to sleep."
"You mean you want to wallow?"
"I'm not wallowing, you can't wallow when you sleep…. Sleep is wallowless ."
"It's still going to be here to deal with when you wake up."
"Yeah well…." Dean once again removed the pillow from his head and studied his little brother a complete sincerity in his gaze as he spoke causing a chill to run down Sam's spine. "Maybe we'll get lucky and I won't."
"Don't say that, you don't mean it."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you, and you're not a quitter."
"Well, there is a first time for everything…"
"Dean, come on man-"
"Come on what Sammy? Come on and keep fighting? Come on you're getting better? Come on nothing' man… It's all a load of crap and you know it!"
"You have come far, you're on your feet again, you can walk, you're doing great."
"I can't make it two feet without you or that piece of shit walker so don't give me that I'm walking crap I ain't walking I'm being walked like a dog…"
Sam rolled his head from side to side and found another frustrated sigh escaping his lips, his brother was definitely the most stubborn man he had ever met and the most pessimistic as well he was quickly discovering. "These things take time"
"Time? Time ? It's been a damn year! A YEAR SAM! A FRICKIN YEAR!" Each time the words passed his lips they grew more and more angry, more and more venomous and Sam watched as Dean's chest heaved and puffed out with each word.
"And look how far you've come in that year man." came a small and calm reply as the now worked up man felt his brother's hand squeeze his shoulder in an attempt at reassurance.
"Look how far I still have to go…"
"You'll…We'll get there. I understand alright? I totally get what you're feeling, you thought that by this time… things would be better that you would be yourself again, that you would have beat this demon and be out there kicking ass again…But… Everyone works at their own pace Dean, and you're doing great you really are… You've got full use of your left leg… and uh… other things…. And your right side is improving almost daily….You're a miracle man."
"I'm no miracle, I'm just a fuc-"
"Don't…. Don't you dare finish that statement, your attitude about this whole thing has improved so much, you've been doing so well… Don't ruin it… it's just another day on the calendar man. Just another day like any other…"
"You can't tell me you really feel that way."
Sam squirmed slightly under his brother's eyes that he could feel once again studying him as he cast his own gaze downward, "I don't have a choice…" He whispered after a minute… "I can't sit around and count the days like I used to… I can't dwell on what happened or what might have been… I have to concentrate on now, on getting you better."
"There was a time when those words would have been coming out of my mouth…"
"And they will again."
Dean felt knots once again invading his stomach and he groaned a little and frowned, he didn't want to be having this conversation again, he didn't want to be feeling like this much of a failure, this much of a burden, this much of a flat out pain in the ass. Even if that is not how Sam meant it, which he knew he didn't… it still made Dean feel that way and he knew that was never going to change. "Sammy… Please, just leave me alone alright?" His voice was timid and almost shy as he begged.
Sam gave his brother's shoulder another reassuring squeeze before nodding and heading defeated out of the room his head hung low.
Watching as Sam exited Dean's room, John frowned and rose from his seat at the table able to read his son's expression within seconds, it was obvious something not of the good nature had taken place in that room. "Everything okay?"
The young man shook his head in response and flopped down on to the sofa with a long and exasperated exhale of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "He's not coming out."
"Why the hell not?"
"It's D-Day." Sam said simply putting his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees, the conversation he had had moments earlier completely draining him of all energy.
"D-Day?" John asked making his way over and sitting down next to his son.
"One year."
"One year?"
"Since the shooting." When Sam's head came up John saw something he hadn't seen in at least ten years, something he thought had long since left him.
His son, helpless and childlike looking at him with desperation and pain in his eyes, an uncertainty that spoke volumes, a vulnerability that was more delicate that the thinnest glass.
And he had no words to fix such raw emotions. He could only imagine by the reflections in his youngest boys face, how Dean was fairing on the other side of that door.
Patting Sam's shoulder he stood and inhaled silently, he knew what needed to be done, he knew how rough it was going to be. But basking in the glory and the beautiful agony of self pity was not going to get any of them anywhere.
So as he crossed the room and stood in front of the door separating him from his son he put on his game face and opened the door stepping in.
"It's time to get up." He said indifferently coming to a halt at the foot of the bed and pulling the blankets off in one swift movement.
"Dad."
"Well it sure as hell ain't the tooth fairy now get off your ass and outta that bed."
Dean groaned just loud enough to be heard, "I'm not feeling up to it today." He reasoned softly making sure to keep his face buried.
"and what gives you the right to lounge around? Your brother and I have been up for over three hours already…"
"Good for you."
John ran a hand through his hair and shook his head trying to keep himself calm and collected, it was more than obvious words were not going to do anything right about now aside from aiding an endless battle. So reverting back to his son's teenage years John did just as he had back then.
Less than ten seconds later Dean found himself on the floor the mattress over turned on top of him as he lay sprawled out beneath it… He was definitely awake now. "DAMN-IT" He scowled forcing himself up and using his back strength to heave the luckily not to heavy mattress up with him. "I'm not a child anymore!" He spat out his eyes defiant
"Well then you better stop acting like one." John shot back just as quick moving to his son's side and reaching down to help him up.
Dean recoiled his hand quickly his lip sneering. "I got it."
John smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, it was still more than amazing to him how stubborn and pig headed his eldest remained.
The disheveled man's knees trembled and wobbled under his body weight buckling as he made it nearly off the carpet and sending him down again his face meeting the not so soft surface accompanied by an irritated growl.
Using the box spring this time Dean supported himself until he assumed his legs were ready to support him and he stood up straightening himself and shooting his father a cocky and smug smirk.
John simply nodded and continued to watch, he was up… but how long was he going to remain that way was the real question.
The lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion had seemed to take more of a physical toll than a mental one as the disabled man began to move forward and frowned feeling the now all to familiar sense of falling over take him his legs unable… no unwilling to cooperate as they became entangled.
Reaching out and offering his son only a half sympathetic look John grabbed Dean's hand and placed it forcefully on his forearm before letting his free hand come to rest on the boys bare back, "We'll take it slow… No mater how many more years pass."
Dean held tight and fast to the arm in his grasp as though he were pulling more than simply stability from the man beside him… something deeper something sturdier… something that told him as much as this situation sucked, as helpless as he felt, as alone as he seemed…. He was not helpless, he was not alone and giving up was sure as hell not an option.
As they made their way toward the living room Dean stopped at the ar wall and stared once again at the calendar placed there. It seemed like an eternity his eyes stayed fixed on the dark bold number staring back at him.
Slowly… Evenly, he reached up and pulled the calendar…. which characteristically of Dean bore a half naked Budweiser model on it's top half… from the wall, and tossed it into the trashcan below.
Dean realized now that it was just another day…. Another step in the right direction…. Another chance at a victory awaiting to be claimed.
"We've got work to do…" He spoke confidently once he was standing in the center of their living room looking into the relieved eyes of his brother a coy smile crossing his lips. It was a phrase the two of them often shared that always meant the same thing…
Translation…. We're gonna kick some ass….
It wouldn't be long now… Not long at all… As Sam looked at the man in front of him, and realized that here they stood… yes stood a year later, and only now was he staring into the eyes of the man he remembered, the man more than once he'd thought he'd lost forever…
There had been glimpses or shadows before, pieces of who he was, but today of all days… Sam saw the final piece come together…
in the blink of a hope filled eye…
His brother…. His hero… Had returned.
I hope that this doesn't sound to repetitive, I wanted the anniversary to really cover a lot for Dean, the pain, the anger, the frustration, and of course the realization… So I hope I did y'all proud. Thank you so much for your continued support through out this story! Let me know what you thoughts are as always you know I like to hear it all… the good the bad and the indifferent.
Rosebud