Sorry about the sloppiness and hideous errors in the last two chaps - they fried my head and I just couldn't do it anymore...This chapter also really thrashed my head in and eventually sent me to Original Character Hell and I thought I would never get out, so basically I did my best, re wrote it and then re wrote it again and again and again and again and again and then one more time. But it still may very well suck out loud. Sorry if it does cos I know it's been a long one and a long wait - you've been very patient.
Chapter 12
Redemption
or
How to Deal with Touchy-Feely-Self-Help-Yoga-Crap
It was eight minutes and five seconds ago since Sam had left him alone. Eight minutes and six seconds. It's nothing really. Nothing compared to the lifetime that it very nearly was. The forever that it could have been had his gun not jammed or had Sam not refused to give up on him or had he not called on Bobby to come and smack some sense into him. Eight minutes and twenty seconds. Not long but enough time to relive all the things he's done in the last few weeks. Enough time to consider the wasted time and how many people he's hurt and how many times he's pushed Sam away and he thinks how insane it is that Sam actually promised him he would not only be coming back but coming back soon. He wonders to himself how many chances he has left with his brother and how much it would take for him to give up on him completely. The thought terrifies him and he tries to assure himself that he won't let anything like this happen again but a part of him knows that he's lying to himself.
He wouldn't be Dean Winchester if he wasn't a little messed in the head and he doesn't think the job would come so naturally to him if he was stable and well adjusted like his little brother. Sam - well adjusted. That was a contradiction in itself because if Sam is well adjusted then how come he allows his big brother to drag him all over the country and turn his life into a major angst fest.
He thinks that maybe they're as screwed as each other and that that's the real reason that Sam sticks with him and then he banishes the thought from his mind because there's been enough misery for one day, one week, one month, one fucking year and right now he's crawling the walls because it's been nine minutes and his brain is thinking far too much. That and his legs are hurting him but at the same time they're twitchy and restless and he thinks that a walk might be what he needs. And a coffee. There is nothing in life that a walk, a coffee or a beer can't fix or at least temporarily put on hold until his mind could be bothered to deal with it so he pushes himself out of bed which hurts a bit and then his head swims and the room tilts so he stops and waits a while until it stops.
He sees a pair of forearm crutches leaning against the wall and thinks that yes he could do with some help walking and slips his arm into one and hobbles out of the room looking both ways hoping that he isn't about to be cornered by any of the nurses that for some unknown reason, seem to want to keep him chained to the bed.
His mind is elsewhere and he isn't really aware of where he's heading but it isn't long before he finds a drinks dispenser and sighing with relief he feels for the pockets which don't exist in the blue hospital pyjamas and realises stupidly he hasn't brought any change. He considers going back to his room to get some but then something at the corner of his vision makes him do a double take and then his throat goes dry and his stomach does that thing that it does when it really isn't happy about what's about to happen next.
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Susan Brennan is forty six and feeling every bit her age as she stares at herself in the mirror. The sound of the water trickling down the plug hole is almost hypnotic as she considers how she ended up here. Her daughter is asleep again now but this time she knows that she'll wake up again soon now that she has been released from whatever held her prisoner. She wonders briefly if this is actually all a strange dream and that soon she'll open her eyes and her husband will be lying next to her but she knows deep down that it is no dream. Jack has gone home now to get them all a change of clothes because Susan wants to stay close to her daughter just in case and she feels guilty anyway because of what she had to admit to her. She's a little concerned over her daughter's obsession with the man who fired the weapon which put her in a hospital bed but the fear is tempered by Drew's equally fervent interest. They can't all be mad can they? Casey keeps asking to see him. She thinks he saved her. Saved her from the monster she keeps saying and Drew agrees although he was angry at first because that man had made Casey scream and cry so hard but he said that if you just calm down and think about it, it was obvious, the man had saved her life although he really wished he hadn't shot her.
Casey is going to need some physiotherapy but it doesn't matter because she is alive and awake, at least that's what Drew says but she is still angry. Angry that her daughter had to go through all this and angry that she suffered and she wasn't there to hold her hand and tell her everything would be ok. She's tried to protect her and keep her safe all these years especially since her father died. Jack does his best and loves her so very much but she knows that Casey often wishes for her daddy because she can still remember him - it wasn't that long ago.
Susan blinks at her reflection and turns off the tap and wonders what she will tell her daughter the next time she asks for the man who shot her. Susan doesn't want to see him ever again and she wants to pretend this never happened and think up a perfectly logical explanation for what happened but she knows deep within her that there isn't one because she's always known - since she was a child that some things cannot be explained.
She walks down the corridor and tries to remember if Drew wanted coffee or tea and then her world screeches to a stop as she sees him.
Their eyes lock and nothing happens for what seems like a very long time because she can't think of anything to say and apparently neither can he.
She is staring at him - at his injuries and her eyes widen horrified and fascinated and Dean can almost see the thought process working it's way across her features as he gapes equally wide eyed at the woman in front of him, the woman who's daughter he had hurt, his brain screaming at him to turn around and walk away because he doesn't want this to happen now. Not now.
Susan glances over him taking in the fresh bruises which mottle the left side of his face, the reds and purples around his right temple which spread right up to the hair line, the split lip, the cut over his left eyebrow and the gash on his cheek just below. She lowers her eyes to the bandage on his arm hiding what she suspects are more gashes. Gashes similar to the small one on her daughters face which looks like the claw mark from a wild and savage animal. She's curious and afraid but she finds her feet stepping closer to him and words involuntarily exiting her mouth denying her desire to turn and flee.
"What happened to you?"
Dean stares at her shrugging nervously and hopes he isn't in for another pasting. What with her, Bobby and the Wraith he figures he could really use a break from being smacked around. Just a couple of days would do - he isn't greedy.
"Wild animal got a hold of me. Must've really pissed it off," he smiles weakly then looks away guiltily.
The woman crosses her arms.
"Hm. Wild animal you say. Been a lot of that sort of thing recently wouldn't you say young man?"
Her voice is quiet and calm but he can hear the subdued anger and something else - possibly fear and he wants to tell her she isn't the only one.
Dean looks up but says nothing. The woman's eyes are working him and he can tell that she's smart and that something about the whole incident just doesn't add up with her. But he really, really doesn't want to do this but it doesn't look like she's intending on giving him a choice as she steps closer to him their faces inches apart and he feels his blood run ice cold.
"We need to have a little chat. Right now."
The woman's tone is again quiet and still but somehow manages to convey that she isn't in the mood for argument or discussion and his heart sinks. Being smacked around the face by angry mothers who's daughters he had shot he could just about handle - little chats with said angry mothers - not so much. Swallowing hard he decides miserably that he has little choice but to follow the woman down the corridor and face whatever she has in store for him.
Susan enters the room first, vacant but for a few chairs and a small table with empty coffee cups discarded on it's surface.
She turns around to face him and watches him carefully close the door behind him absentmindedly scratching at the bandage on his arm and she's surprised to think how vulnerable and young he looks in the hospital clothes, not at all like the whooping, cocky, gun toting red neck she had pegged him as.
Dean remembers her exactly as she was the first time they had met. She seems no different to him her appearance still smart, assured. Her clothes are casual but modern, her dark hair cut into a short bob, showing the odd strand of grey. Her features are soft but her eyes hard and full of sadness and they remind him of his mother's - the way she had looked at him, that day, back home when she had saved them, sorrowful but strong, determined. Her pale skin is devoid of any makeup and she stands nearly as tall as him holding herself confidently with a relatively youthful demeanour only betrayed by the slight lines around her eyes and mouth. The dark shadows under her eyes suggest to him she hasn't slept much in the last few days and her hair is ruffled probably from having worried hands run through it far too many times.
Susan thinks she should say something, as the young man apparently cannot and for a fleeting moment she feels a stab of pity.
"It's Dean, isn't it?"
The young man in front of her nods and then looks confused when she holds out her hand.
"I'm Susan. You put a bullet in my daughter."
Her tone sounds cold to her and matter of fact but she can't seem to control it and the young man again seems nervous and lacking in a response. He takes her hand, lightly grasping it before releasing it shortly after.
"She's awake now you know."
He nods, "I heard. That's - really good news."
She smiles back at him without humour.
"They don't know why."
Her legs feel weak so she sits and watches as he takes the one opposite his focus kept securely on the floor.
"You know I've been trying really, really hard to forgive you."
She's annoyed when her voice breaks and shatters the illusion she's attempting to create to show this man - this boy that he hasn't broken her. But now she isn't sure if she cares anyway.
"We're supposed to forgive aren't we? They say hate doesn't help anybody." She looks away, feeling her eyes sting and tries to regain composure because she has questions. Questions she believes only he can answer and now they're here in this room together, although she is hating every minute of it, something within her needs to know.
"Something else happened didn't it?"
She turns back suddenly furious.
"They don't know - they know nothing, but you - you know. Don't you?"
Dean had hoped it wouldn't come to this but deep down he knew that it would. He shakes his head and looks away hoping she might drop the subject and let him leave but she doesn't and she's not letting him leave until she knows the truth.
"I want to know. I need to know."
No you really don't.
"Tell me. What happened?"
Her muscles tense as she watches him rise and walk over to the window and waits impatiently like a child who just can't wait for the ending to a bed time story. He sighs then and turns back to her.
"She was attacked. By an animal. But it's dead now and it can't hurt anyone else."
Her heart leaps ands she feels as if a light as suddenly been switched but her vision his blurry and unused to the light and she still can't see fully but she stands up as if the action may help her see.
"Dead?"
The young man nods and looks away again and she can see tears filling up in his eyes.
"When?"
He ignores her and she raises her voice the anger smothering any sympathy she may have for him.
"When?"
Susan swallows hard, the hairs on her neck prickling, a shiver runs through her body sand she blinks away her own tears as she begins to feel her world shifting from the reality that she thought she knew.
"I asked you a question."
She notices the young man flinch and his words tumble out hurried and reluctantly as if he had been doing everything he could to prevent them from escaping.
"It was earlier, this afternoon. Around one thirty I guess."
Susan nods feeling a tear escaping and sliding down her skin. Her head feels light and fuzzy and her skin cold and she shivers suddenly understanding more than she should, more than she wanted, and then informs the young man in front of her what she correctly believes he already knows.
"The same time. My daughter woke up. Casey. She woke up. It was one thirty two."
And then she collapses into the seat beside her shaking, shaking so hard but trying to hold on to her self control, determined not to cry in front of this virtual stranger who walked uninvited into her life. This stranger who she had previously believed shot her daughter in an obscene act of recklessness while out hunting with his equally reckless and fool hardy friends.
But now it just doesn't seem that way. The man who was responsible for her daughters injuries is now stood beside her, marred with his own wounds after obviously having hunted down the creature that had initially attacked her daughter and now she is struggling to decide if that makes him a hero or not. She had been so angry and refused to believe what Drew had told her but somewhere inside her she knew that what had occurred couldn't be governed by the normal rules of what is right and wrong. Casey had been upset with her when she had admitted her initial reaction to the young man and had tried her best to convince her mom that it wasn't his fault and that he had been trying to save her. It had astonished her that her daughter had so much capacity for forgiveness for a man she didn't know although Casey seemed to believe she had some form of connection with him and just wouldn't let it go. But Drew had understood. Drew the logical down to earth young man who always saw the good in people and would believe in anything as long as he saw it with his own eyes.
Not like her. She had denied what her eyes had seen all these years and pushed it to the back of her head telling herself it wasn't real. But now she was forced to admit that maybe it was.
She sighs, running hands through her hair. She thinks to herself that there are so many pieces missing from this puzzle but not so many that she can't see a glimpse of the picture that she had previously read so wrongly. Hours earlier she had denied the facts and refused to believe that the young man who she had blamed might actually be someone who deserved her gratitude not her anger but now she's been handed another piece of the puzzle she can't deny what is staring her so obviously in the face. That somehow this young man had stirred her daughter from her unending sleep. She doesn't believe in coincidences and although she knows her husband will tell her otherwise she now feels that she has no choice but to accept that something beyond her understanding of the natural world had indeed occurred.
She eventually looks up to witness the young man, Dean re-take his seat in the chair opposite, his downcast eyes unable to see that for the first time her gaze is devoid of the cold that it previously held but he doesn't look up and Susan wonders if it's that he can't or won't and is saddened when she sees him flinch at her next statement.
"Well, I guess that I owe you one hell of an apology."
"No."
He's shaking his head again and fidgeting with his hands picking at the skin on his thumbnail and Susan considers telling him to stop picking or else he'll make it bleed. Then she smiles to herself knowing she has no right to scold him although she would often scold Drew, but then he was just a boy and needed scolding from time to time especially as he didn't have a mother of his own and his father worked away so much. It's a little known secret but she longs for the day when he and her daughter are old enough commit to each other like they often swear that they will although she would often chide them that they're far too young to be thinking of such things, but in truth she can think of no other who she would rather have as a son and it always breaks her heart when every Mother's Day, Drew hands her the card he has written for her, awkward and hesitant as if he's not sure he has the right.
"No."
He says it again and he sounds so sad and more than a little lost so she tries her best to reassure him even though she still finds it hard.
"You saved her life."
"No."
He seems to be blinking a lot and his voice sounds raw and cracked and she wonders if he's got a sore throat and considers offering him one of the cough sweets she keeps in her purse but instead finds herself talking, rambling trying to fill the silence.
"I thought I was going mad you know. Deep down I knew something wasn't right. You've met Drew? He's so logical but he used the word 'invisible'. I mean you tell me how that's possible."
She watches Dean shaking his head again and is a little concerned at his colour which isn't so much pale as grey, she frowns but continues her monologue.
"I considered the possibility of drugs. But I know my daughter - she hates all that."
Then suddenly she laughs and the young man's head pops up.
"I really am going mad aren't I?"
He's looking right at her now his gaze sympathetic and they lock eyes briefly but he seems unable to give her an answer and looks away again. She stops to take a breath and then turns her eyes to the ceiling, shaking her head still finding it hard to believe this isn't just a horrible dream from which she will soon awake. Her voice seems far away to her as if it is someone else who is speaking and she wonders if this is what madness feels like.
"I reminded him that he was concussed, you know, but he just told me what you're brother had said to him, back in the forest and then it hit me and all I could think about was that time when I was six."
Her voice is soft but she can't stop it breaking and she's surprised to see Dean look back up at her apparently startled but for some reason she feels able to continue to tell her darkest secret to this virtual stranger which fate had seen fit to drop unceremoniously into her life, but she doesn't want to look at him in case she's wrong and he thinks she really is a nut so she stares out of the window hoping that the world doesn't end.
"My parents told me I was dreaming. A nightmare. Not real. I was six - I wasn't stupid - I knew the difference."
She hears him speak but it's barely a whisper. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing."
She turns back to him shrugging.
"I screamed and whatever it was disappeared. My sister still has no idea that she almost died that night. I don't know what it was but I knew- I knew it was going to kill her."
The young man nods at her; his eyes are sad but understanding and she's so relieved to hear his assurance that at least if she is mad then she isn't alone.
"Some nightmares are real."
Susan blinks, sighs and then looks back at the young man who has returned his eyes to the floor.
"You knew what you were doing didn't you? Why would you do that? It could've killed you."
His voice is quiet but assured.
"Your daughter nearly died because of me. I had to fix it; I had to make it right."
Susan sighs again, her head feels a mess and everything is upside down so she pauses for a moment before taking a deep breath in preparation to speak the words that are so hard for her to admit but still her voice sounds cold and unconvincing to her.
"It wasn't your fault. You were trying to save her. It was an accident."
She isn't surprised when Dean doesn't respond. She probably wouldn't either, so she continues trying to keep her voice steady, which is hard considering the raging emotions that are pounding in her head.
"Drew was angry at first - who wouldn't be? But he told me later that you're brother had said you were trying to kill it. Much as I may want to, much as my instincts tell me to, I can't hold you responsible for what happened. I understand that now."
The young man leaps to his feet and seems angry causing her to frown.
"No. No you don't."
His voice his low and Susan thinks that yes he definitely is angry. He's staring out of the window his jaw is clenching and she thinks that he really should calm down before he bursts a blood vessel and that maybe he should go back to his hospital bed and have a lie down.
Susan stands to join him at his side feeling the anger and hatred evaporate and being replaced by compassion for this young man who she now realises isn't her enemy. She speaks again and this time tries harder to sound convincing knowing that if she doesn't believe her words then how can she expect him to.
"I understand this. I understand that you tried your best to stop that thing from hurting her. I understand if you hadn't been there she would have died. And I understand that you killing that thing had something - although I have no idea what - to do with my daughter waking up. My head knows you saved her and even if my heart isn't quite ready to accept it yet, you should."
She's mildly satisfied with her choice of words and thinks for a second she may have got through to him but she is to be disappointed when he spins around still furious.
"I should have killed it the first time. It was a straight shot. I shouldn't have missed. I shouldn't have shot her, she shouldn't be in hospital and she shouldn't have to know about what happened to her."
Susan is confused now and frowns at the young man she knows as Dean as he takes a breath apparently trying to calm himself. She's a little puzzled as to why he doesn't seem to want to accept her forgiveness and wishes she knew what was going off in his head but then thinks that maybe she doesn't want to know.
He sits back down heavily and she follows once again taking her seat opposite watching him curiously.
He seems to be fighting back tears again, which for some reason wrenches at her that little bit more and she's saddened to hear his voice so thick and shaken but he seems determined to speak even though it is obvious to anyone with eyes how much it hurts.
"I've been a hunter all my life, since I was a kid," he laughs bitterly.
"This is gonna sound kinda big headed but my aim - it's pretty tight. I should've nailed it- no problem."
Once again she's confused and this time a little unnerved. She's not sure that she wants to know what he's about to tell her. He seems so certain that this new information will change her opinion of him and she doesn't have the strength for more anger, not now that she's finally come to an acceptance that the young man sat in front of her isn't to blame for the events that had shattered her world.
But the choice isn't hers to make and short of getting up and leaving the only thing she can do is to listen so she listens and the heart that belongs to the mother within her almost breaks.
"My mom died when I was really little and my brother was still a baby and my dad dedicated his life to finding the thing that killed her. He prepared us for the worst. Trained us to be soldiers as soon as we were big enough to hold a weapon, so that we'd be ready when the time came, but in the end...it killed him too."
She wonders sadly how he managed to say all that in one go and sighs swallowing the lump in her throat. She wants to reach out to him but knows she has no right so she just sits there watching as he blinks back the tears.
"You lost both your parents?"
He nods, his eyes still averted, but she can see the pain and sorrow within them and her heart aches for this boy who has obviously been through hell and survived it yet still believes he doesn't deserve forgiveness. She's amazed at the fact that he continues; she cannot understand why he would do this. Why he would torture himself in order to convince her of his guilt.
He sniffs slightly and runs a hand across his face before speaking again.
"So, the thing is, my dad dies. For me. He sacrificed himself to save me and now I'm supposed to be ok with that."
Susan's feels her eyes fill with tears as she hears the young man's voice break and curses herself for so callously adding to his torment just a few days ago. She tries to imagine her own child being forced to grow up without her, to cope without the nurturing and unconditional love of a mother, as this young man so admirably has and it is enough to make her want to weep.
She feels an overwhelming urge to tell the young man how sorry she is for his loss and for adding to his agony but she doesn't - instead she remains silent and allows him to continue offering him the respect of her silence and her patience and he rewards her with such brutal honesty, breaking her heart that little bit more.
"Well, I guess I wasn't ok with it, I guess I didn't handle it too well and the night before I shot Casey," he laughs again, sniffing and shaking his head, "actually not just that night - I was up downing whisky, tequila, beer you name it. Anything just to block it out. Have you ever tried shooting a gun with a hangover, an overdose of caffeine and four hours sleep?"
Susan shakes her head, not in answer to his question - which she knows is hypothetical anyway - but in disbelief that this young man could be so harsh with himself.
Dean nods again.
"Yeah, well - not a good move."
He swipes at the tears before they have a chance to fall then wraps his arms round himself keeping his head down and Susan wonders to herself how someone who had suffered so much could still have any good left in them. Rising from her chair she crouches down in front of him tentatively placing a hand on his and feels her own eyes sting as he pulls it away. Finally looking at her he begs her brokenly:
"Please. Don't."
Ignoring his request, she reaches for him again and trying hard to speak without her voice cracking she simply whispers:
"Thank you, Dean."
He shakes his head furiously still managing to hold on to the unshed tears but she again chooses to ignore his protests and reaches up pulling him close and hopes he will accept her forgiveness and her thanks he clearly still believes he doesn't deserve as she conveys her gratitude once more hoping that this time it will reach it's target.
"Thank you, Dean - for bringing my daughter back."
She feels him loosely return the hold, hesitant, not too tight and she thinks that he feels so tense as if he's trying his hardest not to fall apart in her arms and she sighs to herself hoping that one day, maybe with someone else's arms around him, he will be able to let go.
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It is getting late when Sam returns and Dean is back in his bed watching TV, irritably flicking between channels trying to find something worthy of his attention until he hears the familiar voice.
"Hey, what's up?"
Dean drops the remote and turns to see Sam enter his room.
"Hey."
"Did I miss anything?" Sam sits down in the chair, dropping the bag he has brought for Dean on to the floor and makes himself comfortable which is difficult because he's so tall and the chair was obviously designed for pixies or something.
"No, but I think I'm gonna fall asleep again soon." Dean lies back wearily against the bed head yawning and struggles to keep his eyes open for a little longer.
Sam picks up the remote turning to the TV. He's trying to relax but notices his brother seems a little distracted and tense but he decides not to mention it.
"Yeah, well don't let me stop ya."
Dean glances at him before closing his eyes.
"You staying?"
Sam doesn't return the look but instead gapes at the television as a young, heavily tanned, bikini clad woman struts across a beach somewhere in California.
"Where else would I be? You think I trust you alone with all those nurses?"
Dean snorts but doesn't open his eyes.
"Whatever, dude. I know you got your eye on that cute little brown haired chick. Lucy, is that her name huh, Sammy, huh?"
Sam scowls but ignores the teasing and switches off the TV before turning to his brother who has opened his eyes again.
"Listen, man, do you think you'd be up for getting back on the road soon?"
"Tomorrow? Sure. Right after I finish up here."
Sam frowns puzzled.
"Finish what?"
Dean closes his eyes again hoping that it will get him out of any occurrences of nagging, whining or generally being yelled at before he explains himself.
"I um thought I'd call in on Casey. Say 'hi'."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Dean can almost hear them hitting the ceiling with a ping.
"You what?"
Dean keeps his eyes closed hoping that if he doesn't look at Sam then Sam will eventually shut up, go away or be vaporised by his own high pitched shrieking.
"Don't start Sam, ok? Come on... it's been a long day, I'm tired you're tired..."
"Don't give me that Dean. I mean why would you wanna do that. You know her parents will be there."
Dean remains silent and doesn't move.
"Dean...?"
"I'm tired Sam."
"Fine, we'll discuss this in the morning if you prefer."
"Whatever."
Then he turns away from Sam, effectively ending the conversation, grateful for the excuse which grants him escape from his brother's questions and constant wheedling and fretting and bitching and moaning which he knows he won't be able to evade forever but just not now. Not now.
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The nurses had found Sam a bed to spend the night in considering he had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going anywhere. He had been happy to sleep in the chair next to his brother but the nurse who he had chatted to earlier had taken pity on him and his ridiculously long and lanky frame which just didn't look right hunched up in that chair. Not that he had slept particularly well. The bizarre dreams that had disturbed his sleep all night had put paid to any chance of rest and he was still concerned about his brother's mental well being so when he enters his brother's room late that morning he's a little surprised to find his brother dressed and busy packing his things.
"Hey."
Dean looks up briefly shooting his brother a faint smile.
"Hey."
Sam rocks a little awkwardly on his heels and glances around the room not particularly looking forward to the exchange that is about to occur.
"So you ready to get out of here?"
"Sure, soon as I'm done. Shouldn't be too long - you can wait in the car if you like."
Sam walks over and helps his brother pack the remainder of his belongings and says firmly.
"Looks like your done. Lets go."
They lock eyes with each other, but Sam's glare is slightly more fierce than Dean's, but that could be because Dean still has a headache and his face hurts and he still feels too tired.
"Sam, I'm not done. Not yet.
Sam huffs, chews on his lip and looks away shaking his head slightly before turning back to his brother.
"Dean, why are you doing this to yourself?"
Dean's angry now and throws his bag on the floor and pierces Sam with his eyes. He's really not in the mood for a whine fest, pissy hissy fit or Sam style naggathon, he just wants to do what he needs to do and get the hell out of there.
"Because I made a promise."
"What?"
The youngest runs his hands through his hair in frustration, and Dean sighs and leans against the bed, wondering if there is another human being in the world who can say the word 'what' just quite like his brother.
"What promise Dean?"
Dean grimaces slightly and looks away.
"Dean?!"
Yeah that's another one. That word and his brother's voice alone is enough to make him want to pull out his own brain. And then eat it.
Heaving out a sigh he turns back to his younger sibling. He isn't sure why he ever believes he can get away with anything with Sam, but something always makes him try.
"Look I didn't tell you but last night because I knew you'd freak out, but I ran into Susan."
Sam's face screws up.
"Who?"
"The kid's mom. She's called Susan. Did I not mention that?"
"Er no Dean you didn't."
"No? Well she is and she's actually quite nice." Dean smiles pleasantly and it seems to infuriate Sam even more and as his face wrinkles up again it reminds Dean of one of those dogs that carry beer around their necks and get paid to rescue people or whatever and he tries really hard not to but he can't help himself and he reaches up and pats Sam on the head.
"Calm down there boy."
Sam smacks his hand away furious and scowls even more if that's possible and Dean thinks his face may as well just go ahead and implode.
There is a brief pause as Sam tries to calm himself and then huffs out a breath and looks back down at Dean still frowning making Dean feel like a teenager in front of the school principal.
"What happened?"
"We talked. Or rather she talked. Anyway she asked me if I would go see her."
Sam's face adopts that smug pretentious expression that tells Dean he is about to say something 'profound' and 'witty'.
"Really, Dean. So you're telling me that the woman who um let me think smacked the shit out of you after you um accidentally shot her daughter now wants you to go for a nice little meet and greet huh?"
Dean bends down to retrieve his bag from where he had thrown it.
"Yeah that pretty much sums it up." He shrugs cheerfully and makes for the door
Sam catches his arm spinning him round and Dean glares at him because he hates it when Sam does that.
"Keep your panties on little brother, it's no big deal..."
"No big deal huh?"
Sam's arms are flying around like a very tall windmill - with hair - and he emphasises his words by stabbing a finger dangerously close to Dean's chest.
"No big deal that you're about to put yourself through another barrel of shit just to prove some dumb masochistic point..."
Sam doesn't get to finish his sentence because Dean knocks his hand away angrily and steps closer so that he's almost in his little brother's face and his voice is so frighteningly low that Sam almost backs away.
"What do you expect me to do, Sam? You expect me to walk away. Say screw you I've had a bad enough week as it is? Is that what you'd do huh, Sam?!"
They stare each other down, two pares of eyes blazing ferociously before Sam takes in a deep breath trying to calm his rapidly rising temper knowing that one of them has to act like an adult at some point.
"I still don't get why you need to do this Dean."
Sam's voice is calmer now but Dean's is still laced with anger.
"Because, Sam I made a promise and that may not mean anything to you but it does to me and besides I need to do this. Hell, I can't do much else for the kid, but at least I can give her this."
Sam shakes his head sadly, still maintaining eye contact with his brother.
"Dean, you saved her life, isn't that enough?"
Dean glares at Sam for a few seconds longer before dropping his gaze and running a hand through his hair.
"Discussions over Sam. I'm doing this - end of." And then he glances back up at Sam as if making sure his point has been heard.
Sam shrugs defeated, sighing and shaking his head, but his voice still expresses the irritation and frustration he feels at his brother's insistence on once again placing himself in a painful and potentially shit hitting fan situation.
"Fine. Fine."
His voice is light but sarcastic and he brings his arms out to the side before dropping them back again resigning to the fact that his brother is a stubborn, bull-headed ass and there is little he can do about it.
"You wanna put yourself through that again, be my guest. You wanna get the shit kicked out of you one last time - fine go right ahead."
And then he sighs again his voice softening somewhat and he looks away briefly before returning his eyes to meet with his brother's.
"I just think you've been through enough, that's all."
Dean nods his own anger and frustration melting away, appreciating the concern in his brother's eyes.
"Sam, quit worrying about me, ok? Just, do me a favour, take my stuff and wait for me in the car. Trust me, it'll be fine."
His mouth twitches upwards a little at the corners as he shoves his bag into Sam's arms and pats his shoulder lightly.
"Besides, if it all goes to shit I got my little brother looking out for me right?"
Sam's a little taken aback and stares into his brother's eyes, feeling honoured and touched at the unexpected statement, every ounce of his anger dissipating. Nodding he blinks a little and then offers his brother a brief smile before saying resolutely:
"Right."
-------------------------------------
When Dean meets with Susan she smiles and hugs him and Dean thinks that it's a far cry away from when they first met. She seems surprised to see him as if she didn't really believe he would come but he'd been that shaken when she'd released him he would've agreed to anything just to get out of there. She chats pleasantly to him while leading him to her daughter's room, telling him that her husband has popped out and won't be there which is probably a good thing because he is still having a hard time getting his head around everything but she's sure he'll come round eventually. Dean listens intently to her small talk but he says nothing and soon they're entering the small but cheerfully lit room and Dean hesitates when he sees the girl he had shot, for the first time since that fateful morning, half sitting up in bed chatting groggily to the young teenager who he remembered as Drew.
He takes in the boy's appearance, his dark shaggy hair falling into his eyes, the Linkin Park t-shirt and scruffy, baggy jeans complete with obligatory chain hanging from the belt loops and thinks that he reminds him of someone, years earlier before things had gotten so screwed up and complicated.
Dean's stomach is in knots as Susan guides him into the room but she seems relaxed and happy and smiles at the youngsters as they look up.
Casey seems a little nervous when she recognises the young man who had held her hand while she screamed in fear and pain some days ago; more or less as soon a she had awoke she had asked for him and then her and Drew had discussed the events, trying in vain to make sense of them. Her mom had filled her in on a few details, mainly about the young man who had saved her life. Admitting she had been initially furious with him she had relayed to her daughter that she could find no reasonable explanation for what had happened, and while reluctant to admit to Casey that the monsters under her bed were in fact real and living and out there waiting for people like them she had been forced to concede that something beyond their comprehension had occurred.
Casey is a little strung out on pain killers and the craziness of the situation doesn't seem to mess with her head as much as it should besides, she considers herself an open minded young woman and knows what she saw even though the events are hazy and confused. Drew had confirmed that something that shouldn't be, had attacked them and spoke about the unusually tall man who had stayed with him while they made their way back to the road.
Drew always shares everything with her - he had decided to tell her everything, refusing to believe that Casey needed protecting and had respectfully but firmly rejected Susan's pleas to keep the truth from her at least until she was feeling stronger.
Dean glances at them briefly, noting Drew's blank expression before turning his gaze to something worthy of his attention somewhere near his feet as Susan approaches the couple leaving him near the door.
"Drew, honey, I need you to come with me for a while."
Drew looks at Dean and then Casey, his mouth is twitching, unimpressed.
"Sure, I'll be right out." he gestures for Susan to wait for him outside but she seems reluctant.
"Drew?"
"I said I'll be right out. You can wait for me out there."
The young man's tone is a little impudent and Susan gives him a look which appears to remind him of who is talking to and he winces before adding hurriedly:
"I mean please, ma'am, if that's ok."
And then he flashes her a charmer of a smile which Dean thinks would have put even him to shame and the woman shrugs, rolling her eyes and concedes leaving the room but not before calling over her shoulder:
"Two minutes young man!"
Drew stands to address Dean who is stood uncomfortably, feeling like a spare part wishing he could just disappear into the nearest hole.
"It's Dean, right?"
He nods finding it difficult to make eye contact.
"You wanna sit down?"
The boy gestures to a seat on the opposite side of Casey's bed to him, which Dean reluctantly accepts and the two of them stare at each other for a few moments as if preparing for a chess match, Dean on Casey's right, Drew on her left.
"Well dude I gotta tell ya - you really need to work on that aim."
"Actually, my aims fine, but thanks."
He meets the boy's eyes assertively refusing to waver and Drew responds by gesturing towards his girlfriend who is looking on not particularly amused.
"Yeah - I can see that."
Dean ignores the caustic remark and continues, his brain screaming at him to shut the hell up, but his mouth running away with itself, the bitterness and sarcasm not even coming close to subtlety.
"Thing is, you see I wasn't exactly on top of my game. The few nights before I put a bullet in your girl - I was pretty much out of my face on whisky and tequila."
Dean holds his head confidently his eyes not moving from their fixed position, awaiting the tirade of abuse he believes he fully deserves but it never really comes and instead Drew jerks his chin at Dean still frowning slightly.
"Dude, that's pretty irresponsible."
Dean nods his agreement, looks upwards as if considering his response and then returns the boys glare.
"Yeah, irresponsible - that about sums me up. But not only that, I wasted a good few days feeling sorry for myself too; when instead I could have been out there saving your girlfriend's life."
Drew's slight frown remains fixed on Dean apparently studying the fierce determination and the tense twitching of his jaw and Dean thinks he looks a little puzzled and wonders if he needs to spell it out for the boy what a complete screw up he really is but he doesn't get the chance because Drew steps in again.
"Dude, are you always this much of a dick or are you just putting on an act for my benefit?"
Dean smirks at the boy's sharp response and cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in mock contemplation, the sarcasm still evident in his voice.
"No. I'm more or less always this much of a dick."
Dean's feigned arrogance is betrayed by the tears in his eyes and the dark gaze which Drew has not failed to notice.
"You know man if you're trying to get me to deck you, you're pissing up the wrong tree."
The eyes remain locked and Drew leans forward a sarcastic grin on his face.
"I'm a pacifist."
Dean drops his gaze suddenly effectively losing the first round, his jaw involuntarily tightening as he tries to hold back the emotions that are screaming within him and there is a brief silence as he tries to think of something else to say but then his thoughts are interrupted by the angry young woman sitting up in her hospital bed.
"Alright, enough both of you or I'm gonna get out of this bed and kick some ass."
"Hey he started it. You know back when he shot you and all."
"He wasn't aiming for me you moron!"
"Yeah I got that. He was aiming for the monster only he was too drunk to be able to hit it. Dude you ever heard of AA? You know maybe you should give it a shot. Actually don't bother you'd probably miss!"
"Drew knock it off! The guy just lost his Dad for cryin' out loud."
The angry exchange ends abruptly and Dean can't help but flinch and wonders how much about him Susan had told her daughter.
Drew frowns again after glancing at his girlfriend and then turns back to Dean who is still studying his lap and there is a long pause and Dean can almost feel the young boy's glare piercing him and then he speaks his tone lower, laced with what Dean finds hard to believe is sympathy.
"Your Dad died huh?"
Dean nods slightly but doesn't look up.
"Ok, well that pretty much sucks. Dude, I didn't know, I'm sorry."
Dean is taken aback by the young man's genuine compassion and is unable to find words so he offers the boy a half hearted smile, briefly making eye contact, before returning his eyes downwards but Drew apparently isn't lost for words and continues relentlessly much to Dean's bemusement:
"Seriously though, dude, you really shouldn't use alcohol to deal with your problems. I mean that shit will totally screw up your liver. My Uncle Rod will tell ya. He drank for years and it took nearly dying to get him to finally stop. Seriously all he drinks now is coffee and lemonade - I'm tellin' you man it's bad news."
Dean looks up, surprised and a little amused at what appears to be a therapy session he's receiving from the most unlikely of sources and taken off guard he responds trying his best to sound genuine:
"Really, so um what would you suggest?"
"Well for a start you could try talking to your brother. I mean it's obvious he thinks the sun shines outta your ass, so how about showing him some respect and actually letting him help you?"
Dean grins crookedly at the stern rebuke and laughs a little because keeping a straight face is suddenly strangely difficult but he feels a little guilty and uncomfortable at the inappropriateness of it and is relieved to hear Casey interrupt.
"Don't take any notice of him, man, he's always like this; dude thinks he's Oprah."
Drew turns angrily to Casey scowling, again reminding Dean of a certain younger sibling of his.
"I do not. All that woman does is pander to the whims of self serving so called celebrities, who's only desire it is to discuss their obscenely opulent lifestyles and have their massively inflated egos stroked and coddled beyond all recognition."
Dean turns to Casey pulling a face and is rewarded with a weary giggle but Drew doesn't seem to notice and sighs heavily running a hand through his hair and stifling a yawn. He looks back at Dean his eyes narrowing slightly his tone low and serious.
"So, you really waste that thing?"
Dean nods is own eyes dark.
"Looks like it almost wasted you. Kinda dumb don't you think?"
"It's what I do, it's my job."
The boy glares at him searching his eyes and Dean looks away uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
"That's why Casey woke up isn't it? Because you killed that thing. What, was it was feeding off of her or somethin'?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Doesn't take a genius to work it out. I mean, don't get me wrong dude, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes... I mean it was like somethin' straight outta the X- files."
Dean shakes his head a little disturbed at the comparison but finds he can't help but agree.
"So this job. Does it pay well? Considering you almost got your ass handed to you and all."
Dean shakes his head again, smiling ruefully.
"No. Not really."
"Well that sucks out loud."
Dean nods his eyes narrowing.
"Yeah."
There's a brief but agonising silence and then Drew stands and looks down at Dean before holding out his hand a little tentatively.
"Thanks for saving my girl dude. You didn't have to but you did anyway - so thanks - I mean she's a pain in my ass but I'd be screwed without her right?"
He grins lopsidedly at Dean then cries out in pain as his pain in the ass girlfriend gives him a swift kick in the ass. He glares at her and she smiles sweetly back at him before he turns again to Dean rolling his eyes and Dean slowly gets to his feet accepting Drew's outstretched hand, gripping it firmly and two pairs of eyes lock for only a fleeting moment and then their hands fall away and it's over.
"Anyway I gotta go man, otherwise I'll have Casey's mom on my back too."
Dean gestures to the door, "What you're scared of her mom?" his tone is incredulous belying the fact that he completely empathises.
Drew nods grinning nervously, "I think so."
Dean nods back in understanding and by way of a goodbye and Drew turns to leave heading for the door but then stops readdressing the older man and he jerks his chin at Dean his expression sober.
"Later, man."
And then he's gone and there are two left alone in the room and Dean is suddenly shitting himself and finds his eyes will not lift upwards away from his lap.
"So..."
There's an awkward silence and Dean is willing his brain to think of something to say but it appears lost for any from of intelligent conversation.
"You really killed that thing?"
He nods.
"Drew's right isn't he? I mean that's why I woke right?"
More silence.
"I saw you. I mean I remember you being there, when you... when I got shot, but I saw you. While I was... asleep."
Dean shakes his head not understanding and still doesn't speak.
"I kept seeing you. You were sad and I kept trying to talk to you but you didn't hear me."
Dean feels his stomach lurch sickeningly and his eyes sting. He remembers the dreams and the visions he had and wonders is they were more than that. Wonders if somehow he had been connected to this girl via the link he had with the Wraith and he has no idea if it's possible but is afraid that maybe it is.
He looks up to see the young girl clenching and unclenching the fist on the end of the arm that isn't in a sling, looking downwards obviously uncomfortable and he considers what a very stupid idea it was coming here and if only he could get up and run away.
"I heard you. I heard you scream. You were screaming so loud. It was the last thing I remembered when I woke up."
Dean shudders a little but remains silent.
"Was it real? Were you screaming? Did it hurt you?"
He blinks and looks away until he's sure the tears won't spill because he can't and won't allow her to see them.
"Please tell me."
He hesitates but her voice is so weak and pleading he feels he has little choice but to meet her eyes, his face tensing trying to retain the control he's been holding on to since meeting the girl's mother for the second time and when he replies his own voice is little more than a whisper.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me. Why? What did it do to you?"
"I'm not sure. I was connected to it and then suddenly I wasn't."
"It was horrible. I saw you. You went through that for me? Why? You don't even know me?"
"Like I told your boyfriend, it's my job."
"Yeah well your job sucks!"
"I hear you scream too sometimes. Maybe that's why. Some kind of cosmic karma..."
"What you think you deserved that? That it was payback because of what..."
"I messed up and when that happens there are consequences."
"Consequences huh?"
"You suffered a lot because of me - it's only right that I..."
"You are really full of shit anyone ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, my brother all the time."
"Yeah, well you should listen to him."
The rapid exchange of words ends as quickly as it started and both parties take a breath until it's Casey that finds her voice again and Dean just wishes that this will end very soon.
"I don't really remember you know. I mean, I remember Drew being attacked and I remember something grabbed me and I remember you. You were holding my hand. But I don't remember the pain. I don't remember much really after that."
"You went into shock."
"Drew said you carried me all the way back."
He listens to the silence unwilling to break it and just stares at his hands wishing that he'd listened to his brother for once and just got the hell out of there. He feels sick and he wants to run but there's no escape now and he has to stay and see this through and he just hopes that he can hold it together just a little while longer and he almost believes he can until he hears her sigh heavily and then she speaks.
"So, tell me Dean. What's the universally accepted way of thanking someone for saving your life?"
Dean shakes his head and feels his throat drying up, trying hard to stop the tears from returning and it seems to irritate the young girl who doesn't wait too long for him to answer her.
"Look I don't know what your problem is man, but from where I'm sitting you saved my ass - twice - which you know - kinda makes you my hero."
"I'm no hero. And I don't deserve your thanks."
Dean's eyes fill with tears again and he has to turn away once more blinking furiously, determined not to cry in front of this kid who appears to him to be stronger than he could ever be. Unfortunately as well as not being stupid she is also not blind and reaches out using two fingers on his chin to swivel his head back to face her.
"Hey, don't do that. I'm the one with the hole in my shoulder after all. Though I gotta tell y' the pain meds they got me on..."
She leans forward slightly and whispers conspiratorially, "They totally rock!"
Dean laughs looking downwards as a tear slides down his cheek.
"Dude, seriously you need to stop that."
He wipes the wetness away and tries his hardest to compose himself and bury the anger he is feeling. Anger at this totally fucked up situation where a young girl, a child who he hurt sees fit to try and make him feel better about his stupidity and screw ups and mistakes.
"I'm not your hero Casey."
"I beg to differ."
"Another few inches to the left and we wouldn't be having this conversation cos you'd be dead."
"Didn't happen."
"I nearly killed you."
"Didn't happen."
Dean laughs bitterly running a hand across his face and meets her gaze.
"You wanna know what I really am Casey? I'm a fraud. I steal and I lie and I con because that's all I know how to do. I don't have a girlfriend because a) I can't be trusted and b) I don't know how to trust and I don't have friends because I treat everyone around me like crap. You wanna pick a word for me - try loser."
He lets out a shaky sigh and looks down at his hands not really believing he just said all that out loud to a virtual stranger and he's a little unnerved when she takes his hand squeezing it weakly.
"I was thinking more along the lines of self-pitying-jerk, but whatever."
He snorts, smiling a little but still doesn't look up and wishes she would let go of his hand so that he could just get the hell out of there.
"Look, we could argue all day about this but I'm gonna fall asleep soon and you're kinda getting on my nerves so how about you let me thank you, then you say you're welcome and then we call it quits and you can go back to feelin' sorry for yourself and all."
His mouth twitches but he says nothing and she apparently takes this as permission and the next thing he knows she's leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek and he's so sure that any second now he's going to lose it.
"Thanks for saving my ass dude."
He shakes his head rapidly, unable to stop the tears and hold back the guilt which is still eating away at his soul and he just wishes that she would get mad at him and yell at him because that would be so much easier to take than her thanks.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
His voice cracks but he's forced to look up when she interrupts his apparently unwelcome apology and almost laughs when he sees her with her good hand covering one ear and her eyes closed in denial of what she is hearing.
"LALALALA not listening!"
She opens one eye and he smiles a little although there are still tears in his eyes but he feels a little foolish and awkward and is grateful when once again she steps in for him, taking hold of his hand firmly, her tone light if a little stern.
"Ok listen up buddy. When someone thanks you for saving their life the universally accepted response is generally to smile and say 'you're welcome'!"
Dean nods managing a half smile before forcing himself to look her in the eye once more and blinking away the remainder of his tears he finally finds his voice and whispers brokenly:
"You're welcome."
The girl in the hospital bed grins triumphantly but sleepily as she leans carefully back into her pillow and closes her eyes. Stifling a yawn she looks back at Dean groggily giving him one more instruction before allowing fatigue to envelop her.
"Do me a favour ok, Dean? Quit being so hard on yourself. And what Mr Winfrey out there told you - I'm guessing it's a little too much of the touchy-feely-self-help-yoga-crap type shit for you but maybe it wouldn't hurt to consider it huh?"
Dean smiles to himself and gives a slight nod observing the teenager who's eyes are closing again and as he watches her peaceful descent into slumber, he prays to whoever he hopes is watching over her that she will be free from nightmares and not be plagued with images of death and darkness now that, like him many years ago, her innocence has been tarnished. Leaning over her, he carefully brushes the hair away from her face and gently kissed her forehead whispering softly:
"Sweet dreams, Casey."
And then he walks away, leaving her and her family and the ward and the hospital behind walking purposefully across the car park, staring straight ahead once again reigning in the tempestuous emotions, over to his car, his sanctuary and place of safety, where he knows his little brother will be there, waiting for him.
------------
They are safely back in their hotel room and Sam is busying himself with tidying his belongings and sorting the clothes in his bag while Dean sits at the window gazing sadly out onto the street below, his eyes glassy, searching for something that Sam knows not. Recognising the timing as being right he sits down opposite his brother and gives him a moment to process his presence before speaking as softly as he can trying his best not to shake his brother's fragile defences.
"You alright, man?"
There's no response and Sam wonders if Dean even heard him so sighing quietly he reaches out a hand touching his brother's chin and turns his head towards him.
"Hey, you in there?"
Dean just stares at him his eyes bright and wide not saying a word and Sam smiles at him in a way that he hopes is sympathetic and tries to keep his voice soft.
"Talk to me buddy, what happened."
Dean looks down at the table his face tightening, trying to hold on, hold back the flood which he knows will crash down the already frail walls that are of little help to him now.
"They thanked me, Sam. All of 'em. Susan, Casey and her boyfriend - they all thanked me."
Sam nods understanding completely but seeing his brother so vulnerable is like something he can't describe but he doesn't move and he doesn't speak he just waits. Waits for his brother, waits until he is ready and he doesn't have to wait long
"She thinks I'm her hero. I shoot a little girl in the shoulder – almost kill her, probably scarred her for life...and she thanks me. How messed up is that Sam? It's not right. It's not..."
His voice breaks off and he's unable to say any more as the walls give up their futile resistance and Sam catches a glimpse of his brother's face crumbling just before his hands shoot up to hide it from view, to hide the pain and the guilt and the tears which still bring him shame making him want to crawl into a hole so that no one especially his brother will have to witness him fall.
But Sam catches him.
Sam is at his side in an instant, stooping to wrap his arms around his brother's shoulders and provide something solid for Dean to hold onto while the flood threatens to sweep him away and drown him and Dean reaches for Sam without hesitation, gripping his little brother's arms tightly, his trust and faith in Sam's ability to keep him grounded unwavering.
And Sam holds on and although his height and Dean's seated position makes his back hurt he doesn't really care because it's a small price to pay for finally being able to comfort his brother; a small price to pay for being able to be something to hold on to, to be a source of strength and trust now that Dean is finally able to let him. Dean feels safe now because there is no one else here except his brother and he knows that his brother won't judge him or make him feel small and this feeling of total safety is enough for him now to let go.
------------------------------
It's a long time before Dean's tears dry up and it's him that releases his grip first pulling away and running a weary hand across his tear streaked face. He sighs heavily and Sam pulls his chair close, sitting down, but unwilling to let go just yet keeping a strong hand firmly on Dean's shoulder waiting for him to regain composure.
"Seems I'm a real wuss these days huh? You sick of all this, yet Sam?"
Sam just smiles at his brother shaking his head admonishingly.
"Dean don't be an ass. You've been through hell man; give yourself a break for once."
Dean looks up at him and Sam recognises the light that has returned to his brother's eyes and grinning crookedly back at Dean he feels for the first time in far too long something close to joy inside him.
"You know Dean, sounds to me like Susan, and Casey and even Drew - well sounds like they forgave you..." Dean looks away but Sam continues.
"Or else they realised that there was nothing to forgive."
Dean turns a half hearted glare onto his little brother.
"What's your point?"
"My point?" Sam looks away laughing slightly. "My point, Dean is that maybe you should try forgiving yourself."
Fixing his eyes on Sam, Dean says nothing but smiles slightly and a little sadly before looking back at his hands. And then suddenly he looks back up at his brother his expression morose and hard.
"You know what I think?"
Any other human being who didn't know Dean and his myriad of facial expressions may have been unsettled by the threatening and disturbingly menacing tone to his voice but Sam isn't one of these people and immediately recognises the devilish glint in his brother's green eyes and grins in anticipation.
"What?"
"I think we should go get ourselves a couple of cheeseburgers."
Dean's dead pan expression brings a genuine laugh from his little brother, his eyes crinkling and his whole face lighting up, warming Dean's battered soul and he thinks that it has been far too long since he has seen his brother laugh like that and he feels a little of the emptiness disappear and it seems to be replaced by something that he recalls as hope.
TBC
sorry - I know some of you may not give a flying f ... about Susan and her family but this chapter was for Dean anyway, because he really needed some closure and considering the fact that I was so mean to him, I thought it was the least I could do even if it meant walking through Original Character Hell. I have decided that I won't be doing that again. Ahhh anyway big thanks if you made it until the end - I appreciate it - you have true stamina. Final chapter coming very soon - originally entitled as 'Epilogue'