Oh my god, I am so sorry for not updating on this story. Don't get the wrong idea or anything, but I am writing this story. But, I've been kind of busy, it's final year and loads of tests and stuff. Not to mention the fact that my computer crashed. Yep, for the very first time I got a virus, or well, my computer got a virus. And man, it sucks! So now I'm using my mom's computer until my own is ready. Anyway, this is the second chapter of "Resurrection" and I hope you all enjoy it.
Attention! Read this so you won't get confused!
You could partly say that this story is kind of AU, John is alive, but the story is set after episode "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things", alrighty? So, the crash has happened. The demon did possess John. But John took off after Dean got out of the hospital. Everyone with me? Good. Cause I need the Roadhouse for some coming chapters.
Thank you all who reviews and keep 'em coming!
-oOo-
"Dean, you have to talk about this."
Empty. That's how he felt. Empty and cold, like a big black hole was eating him up slowly from the inside. Dean was used to feeling cold now and then. Hunting the supernatural isn't exactly a warm-hearting job. But never before had he felt like this. Like there was something evil inside of him, something full of hatred, threatening to burst out and explode. But Dean kept it inside of him. He was pretty much programmed to do so, he wasn't used to show his emotions or even talk about them with other people. Especially not to completely strangers.
Sam's dead.
Dean closed his eyes everytime he heard the man infront of him even mention Sam's name. What right did he have? He hadn't known Sam, he didn't know what Dean was going through. He didn't know a thing. But Dean did. He knew it all... from the minute he felt Sam slip away beneath his fingers.
"Sam, no!" yelled Dean as he kneeled next to his brother and pulled him against him. He tilted Sam's head backwards, refusing to believe that his little brother was gone. Dean leaned over and desperately blew two breaths into Sam. He moved his hands over to Sam's chest and started to give compressions. "Come on, dammit! Breathe! Don't you dare give up on me, Sam!"
Dean removed his hands from his brother's chest and shakily leaned over, praying with every fiber of his body that Sam was breathing. He wasn't. A single hot tear rolled down Dean's cheek as he looked down on his pale brother. "Sammy..." He wasn't gonna give up. This was Sammy. And that meant everything. Dean wasn't gonna stop trying to bring Sam back as long as he had strength left in his body. Though a part of him knew it was hopeless. A part of him knew it was too late.
It had been five weeks since that horrible day. During those five weeks Sam's funeral had took place and Dean had mentally killed himself around ten times. Dean was dead. Or a part of him was. His soul had broken inside his skin, and his heart was growing painfully heavier every single day.
Depression.
Dean's father, John, had found out about the death suddenly too. Dean kept working on Sam that day in the haunted house until someone had finally pulled him away from his long-gone brother. Dean didn't know how long he had tried to retrive Sam, but his head was aching and he didn't quite feel his hands, or he felt them, but they were more like viberating. Dean realized that the ones who had pulled him away from Sam was paramedics. Dean didn't know how they knew about the house, but he was guessing someone had called the ambulance. At first, Dean was angry that the paramedics had taken him away from his brother and tried to fight them off. But as the paramedics checked Sam over, they officially concluded that Sam was indeed dead, and that's when sobs wretched through Dean's whole weak body and he finally gave in and let the paramedics take him to the hospital, while they also put Sam's body in one of those black bags.
After spending a night in the hospital, a young woman came into his room and started to discuss with him about the funeral. It was too much for Dean and he completely broke down again. Dean's nurse had forced the funeral woman out of Dean's room and the woman explained that she'd call Dean up for a meeting.
After being released from the hospital Dean went straight back to the motel room. It pained him to be there, even though it wasn't exactly the same room where Sam and Dean had stayed previously. Dean just spent three days inside the motel room watching the wall, before deciding it was time to call John. Dean simply just left a message that his father had to come to Richardtown in Nevada. That was all. Only seven hours later John appeared in the motel room doorway.
Dean guessed that when his father had heard his older son's weak voice in the voicemail, it was all it took for John Winchester to know that something was wrong.
"Dean? Son?" John Winchester gently opened the motel room door and looked around in the small semi-lit room. The room smelled awful. There was simply no other words for it. John quietly walked across the room to the center. "Dean? You here?"
"Dad." It was a small and weak voice.
John turned around to the sound of the voice. The sight scared him. Dean was sitting against the wall in the corner. He looked pale, tired and he looked like he had lost some weight. "Oh my god, Dean." John was immediately at his son's side, studying him worriedly, as Dean looked more devastated then ever. Dean looked up, and John saw that his son's eyes were bloodshot, Dean took out a white paper and handed it over to his father. John looked at it in confusion. "Dean, what-?"
"The funeral," whispered Dean weakly like it was the most painful thing in the whole world, which for Dean it certainly was. "That woman wants to know when it sees us fit to bury him."
John shook his head. Dean couldn't be talking about Sam. He just couldn't.
Dean painfully turned to his father, as tear rolled down his check. "I'm so sorry, dad. I was supposed to protect Sammy." Dean shook his head and let his head fall down into his knees. "But I couldn't... I couldn't.."
I couldn't.
Well, after that things just seemed like hell. John had taken care of all the funeral arrangements and had forced Dean into bed. When it was time for Sam's funeral, Dean was sure he was gonna loose it completely. But Sam needed him to be strong. Even though Sam wasn't with Dean anymore, didn't that mean he was gonna fail him.
"Dean?"
Dean snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the young man infront of him. His shrink. Cute, right? It was John's idea completely. He felt, since Dean wouldn't talk to him he'd talk to someone else. Yeah, right.
Anger.
"Look," said Dean and leaned over where he was sitting. "I'm not really comfortable talking about my brother, alright?"
"Well," said the shrink, whose name was Tristan, at least that's what Dean thought, and looked down at the file in his hands. "We are here to talk about Sam," Dean looked away, trying to ignore the ache that was coming to his chest. "And how you're dealing with it. You agreed to come here didn't, you?" Dean turned back to the shrink and swallowed, trying to keep his emotions under control. "Look, I know how you feel, really, I do. Why do you think I became a shrink?" Dean rolled his eyes. Gee, who knows? What the hell was Dean doing here?
"Look, dude, no disrespect or anything," said Dean and straightened up with an angry face. "But don't you dare sit here and tell me you know how I feel, cause you have not the slightest idea."
"A big black hole," said Tristan and his eyes saddened. Dean looked up, shocked. "You feel like a part of you is dead. And that it's never gonna be alright again." Dean sighed. Okay, maybe he should give the guy a chance. Still, Dean wasn't quite ready to talk about Sam. It just didn't feel right. "My sister... died 5 years ago. I was 23. She was the only thing I had left in this world, and then she died. In a car crash." Dean looked down sadly. "She was only 19 years old." Tristan shook his head. "19 years old, and her life ended so sudden. Everything changed after that, I went into both shock and denial, and I was so sure my life was over." Tristan looked up and met Dean's eyes.
"I'm sorry," said Dean quietly.
Tristan nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard. "Grief is a strange thing, Dean. It comes in many different forms, but it's always the same... grief." Tristan looked up from his clipboard and looked at Dean expectably. "Now, I trust you can talk to me about this. The things you say to me stays between us." Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. A part of him really wanted to pour out his feelings, but another part kept telling him to not open up. "Now tell me... about Sam. What was he like?"
Dean smiled slightly as warm and good memories of Sam came flooding to his mind. "Sam was... a geek." Dean laughed quietly and Tristan smiled. "You know, after our mother died, it was basically me taking care of him, you know? Sam was my responsible."
Guilt.
"And your father?" asked Tristan and wrote something down again on the clipboard.
"He was," Dean looked away and shook his head. "He was just busy. He had things to do. Things he didn't want me and Sam involved with. Sam didn't like that, he never quite accepted it." Dean let the memories come back to him. It hurt. To say Sam's name. To think Sam's name. Everything hurt. "After Sam graduated, he got accepted to Stanford. Dad didn't want Sam to leave." Tristan raised his eyebrows. "He thought that Sam should stay, and help him with the family business, you know?" Dean didn't know why he hated to say Sam's name, but it just hurt too much to say it.
"But Sam went anyway, didn't he?"
Dean nodded and looked down. "A part of me hated Sam for leaving, I needed him to be together with us. I thought.. that maybe we could be a family again. Another part of me is glad that Sam left. He was safe.. you know from all the craziness." Tristan looked slightly taken back and confused. Dean mentally kicked himself for being so careless. "Um, you know, our family business is kind of wild." Tristan looked even more taken back. Shut the hell up, Dean! "Not that it's illegal or anything. Well... Yeah... when Sam's girlfriend was killed, he returned home. I guess he couldn't stand being there after the accident that killed her." Tristan nodded.
Tristan cleared his throat uncomfortably and went on. "So, you felt a lot of responsibility when it came to Sam?" Dean looked down, as he felt a burning in his eyes. "I know you feel guilty over what happened."
Dean looked up and he didn't even bother to stop the tear that came rolling down his cheek. "I should've been there. I should've protected him. I failed him."
"Dean," said Tristan with sympathy in his voice. "I know this doesn't seem as a comfort right now. But people who die are meant to die. So even if you had been there in time to save Sam, he probably would've died anyway."
This dude is kind of weird.
Dean blinked. "You're right. That isn't much comfort."
Tristan nodded. "I can understand that. But I know you're feeling like you're about to break down completely. But believe it or not, it will get better."
Denial.
Somehow, Dean doubted it.
-
An hour and half later, Dean was released from Tristan's office. Dean was actually surprised at himself. When he walked into that shrink office two hours later he was practically a hundred percent sure that he was gonna leave feeling exactly the same. Somehow, after talking about Sam with Tristan for nearly two hours it felt slightly better. Dean didn't know why, but it felt like this huge heavy thing had been lifted off his shoulders.
Dean walked over towards the Impala and pulled out the keys. He suddenly stopped. No. He shouldn't be driving the car without Sam. It just didn't feel right without having Sam in the passenger seat gagging him about his so-called 'mullet rock'.
I swear man, you gotta update your cassette-tape collection...
Why?
Well, for one they are cassette tapes, and two, Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock.
House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shutgun shuts his cake-hole.
Dean smiled inwards. The cold feeling he was feeling everytime he thought of Sam was unbearable. Dean turned away from the Impala. He didn't feel like walking anyway. He'd been trapped in his own mind for so long now. He needed fresh air.
As Dean walked down the streets of the smalltown Richardtown his mind kept drifting back to Sam. Dean had shed so many tears that he wasn't sure if he had any left. Dean walked down the sidewalk, looking around him at the leaves that was slowly falling from the trees. Dean walked like that for another ten minutes, until he suddenly stopped. He didn't think of where he was going, but somehow he ended up here anyway. The graveyard. The place where Sam was, the place where Dean could truly feel his brother's essence.
Dean walked pass the grey tombstones until he stopped infront of his brother's.
Samuel Winchester
1983 - 2007
Beloved Son and Brother
Dean gently kneeled infront of the stone and took a calming breath. "Hey, there Sammy." He caressed the grass infront of the stone, looking down. "Right, sorry. You don't like it when people call you Sammy. It's Sam, right? I'm sorry for not visiting you lately... Things been..." Dean looked up at the stone and let out a small sad chuckle. "Come on, Sam. This is so hard. You're supposed to be here, remember? Who is else gonna be picking on me about my cassette-tape collection? Who else is gonna be telling me 'It's Sam'?"
Fear.
Dean let out a small sob and shook his head fiercely. This wasn't supposed to have happened. How could he have let this happen? They were supposed to be a family again.
"Dean?"
Dean quickly brushed away the tears and looked up to see his father standing there, looking sad. Dean stood up and turned to his father. "Dad."
"What are you doing here?" asked John and kneeled next to the gravestone, straightening up the fallen flowers so that they once again laid beautifully right infront of the stone. When he was done he looked at Dean, who was now also crouching infront of Sam's gravestone. "I thought you were at the..."
"I was," interrupted Dean and nodded dully.
"How did it go?" asked John casually, but Dean saw right through it. He knew his father was as broken up as him. Dean simply just shrugged. "Look, son, I don't want you to feel any hatred against me for sending you there. You wouldn't talk to me, so I needed you to talk to someone else.
"Yeah, a shrink," scoffed Dean. "A complete stranger who never knew Sam." John looked away. "Look, dad, I'm sorry. I know you mean well... but I dunno. It just doesn't feel right. None of this. Sam's not here, so it doesn't feel right anymore."
"I'm proud of you, Dean," said John suddenly.
Dean looked at his father surprised.
"I mean it, Dean," said the older hunter and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "The last two years have been rough. I haven't been the father I shouldn't have been. Most times, you were more of a father to Sam than I ever was..."
Dean's eyes once again turned glassy. "Dad..."
John put an arm around his son. "No, Dean. Listen to me. I need you to understand this. I know this whole thing has been eating you up slowly inside, but you need to be strong. Not for me, but for yourself. Sammy would've wanted that. Now, I won't loose you the way I did Sammy." John pulled Dean in a fierce embrace and a tear rolled onto his father's shoulder. "This is gonna be alright, Dean. I promise you that."
Dean pulled back and once again brushed away a couple of tears. "I miss him so much."
"I know, son," said John. "I know. I do too. But there isn't anything we can do for Sam now." Dean met his father's dark eyes. "Sam's already gone. He's at peace now. I think you need to accept that."
Dean still felt that he was in denial over Sam's death. He knew it. He knew Sam was dead, God, he had even seen the funeral. He had seen the gravestone with Sam's name carved into it. But still... some small and distant part of Dean still hoped that Sam was alive. Dean knew it was a stupid feeling. But he couldn't help it. But now.. his father wanted him to accept the fact that Sam was really gone forever? Of all the things they had faced, now and then there was always things coming up that almost killed them. But always had they been alright. Dean was dying and Sam found a way to cure him. Now, Sam was dead and Dean felt a responsible to Sam to not give up.
Acceptance. Or not.
"No."
Dean pulled away from his father and stood up. John stood up too confused, searching his son for some kind of answer. "Dean?"
"No," repeated Dean and took a few more steps away from his father. "I'm sorry, dad. I can't deal with this. Dad, I'm not strong enough. I need Sam."
"Dean.."
Dean just shook his head and turned around walking away from the gravestone and his father. He could hear his father calling his name out. Dean! Dean! Dean kept walking out of the graveyard and as he came out on the street, he started to run back the same road he had come.
He couldn't accept it. He simply just couldn't. There are loads of things Dean can handle, but Sammy being dead isn't one of them. For the last three weeks Dean had been so caught up in denial that he hadn't even bothered to think. It was over with that now.
Dean reached the Impala that was parked outside the shrink's office. He reached for the keys in his pocket and threw open the car door. He jumped in and started the engine. After all the things they had hunted, this couldn't be the end. Dean drove straight down the street and straight out of the town.
Like a man possessed, Dean drove all across the state of Nevada, all across Utah and the across Colorado and drove straight into Kansas. Throughout the whole trip, Dean's cell phone must've beeped at least 20 times. Dean was to caught up to even notice. He refused to accept that Sam was dead.
Dean drove into a town that Sam and Dean had been leaving quite recently and stopped the car infront of a familiar house. Dean jumped out of the car and walked up to the porch and roughly knocked on the door. No answer. Dean knocked again and finally the door opened.
A young man was sitting in a wheel-chair and was shocked to see Dean.
Dean smirked.
"Hello, Neil. You and I are gonna perform a little spell."
.oOo.
Alrighty! And there was the second chapter. For you people who don't remember Neil, he was the guy who brought Angela back to life in the episode "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things", and yes, Angela zombie girl did break his neck, which is why he is in a wheelchair.
Now Sam will be back in the next chapter, I can promise you guys that!
Anyway, hope you like the chapter and leave a little review, would ya?