Chapter 6 - Aphephobia
Disclaimer: I have no rights to anything in the universe of Supernatural and those who people it. It all belongs to Eric Kripke.
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Dean was dozing as the Impala pulled into Caleb's yard. After getting out, Sam came over to help Dean who tried to walk on his own. His legs had a hard time holding him up. He growled, not at Sam, but at his own weakness. Caleb hadn't waited for the two, opting instead to go inside and get the med kit and some towels ready. Dean headed towards the couch but Sam led him down the hallway and into the guest room. He figured that they would patch up Dean and allow him to collapse into sleep as soon as they were finished. Sitting on the bed's edge, Dean stripped off his ruined shirt and flung it to the floor. He glanced over at Sam. Other than touching him to help him walk, his brother had been avoiding getting within reach. What was going on? Dean wanted to pound the bed with frustration but something told him that Sam couldn't handle any sudden movements from him.
"Here Sam," said Caleb, handing him cotton balls and alcohol. "Can you clean the wounds on his back?" Caleb had noticed how gun-shy Sam was and thought he would want to avoid looking at Dean straight on. The relief on Sam's face confirmed his theory. There were more wounds here than what alcohol and bandages could fix.
Sam winced when he saw the scrapes and cuts on his brother's back. The damage to Dean's torso was extensive. He could see the crusted blood that Caleb was trying to wash off. Every time that Dean jerked away from Caleb's ministrations, Sam jumped slightly too. He could not get the vision of Dean choking him out of his mind. What was happening to him? He'd not been this freaked out when it had actually happened. Sam couldn't get his shaking hands under conscious control. He spilled alcohol on more than the cotton ball.
"Damn it, Sam! That stuff's cold." Dean exclaimed, worried. Sam had refused to meet his eyes since being rescued from that tomb. The few times he'd attempted to get his brother to talk during the drive, Sam had given only monosyllabic answers. Dean half turned and grasped his brother lightly by one wrist. He wasn't prepared for Sam's reaction. Sam jerked back and away. His eyes were wide, and he looked frightened. "What's wrong with you? Are you hurt? Come on, Sammy, talk to me."
Sam didn't see the Dean that sat before him. He saw the shapeshifter Dean whose face had been twisted with rage and hate and the Dean who he'd tried to kill in the asylum. Neither one was a Dean that he had ever wanted to see again. His lips tightened and he clenched his teeth.
Caleb stepped in. Bobby's research had given him a clue to what Sam was trying to cope with. He had no idea what memories were going through Sam's mind, but they sure looked bad. "Sam. Can you go do me a favor?" At his silent nod, Caleb continued, "I need you to go check each door and window, make sure all my wards are in place so that nothing can get in."
Sam scooted out of the room with such alacrity, Caleb almost laughed. He saw a much younger Sam happy to leave an unwanted task undone in favor of something more interesting. Caleb sobered and looked at Dean. "You are going to have to move real slowly with Sam I think. I told you that a cauchemar was able to make a "dreamer" see horrible things so it could feed. Do you have any idea what memory he's reacting to?"
"Well, you know about Jessica. I'm sure Jim told you when he told you about Sam's dreams and visions."
"Yes, but Sam is nervous around you. So what memory does he have about you that would have him so freaked out?" Dean had always taken care of his younger brother, never hurting him or playing malicious tricks. Caleb continued to patch Dean up. After listening to his lungs and determining there was no fluid in them, he had Dean lift his arms enough so he could strap his ribs down. He'd check the bruising tomorrow to see if a trip to the hospital would be needed. He waited for an answer.
"Aaahh, Caleb, it could be several things maybe. We had some arguments. . ."
"No, Dean. I think this is more intense than just a fight."
Dean sighed. He wanted nothing more than to fall back onto the bed. His body craved sleep to help it heal. "We ran into a shapeshifter in St. Louis. He took my form and hurt Sam. Tried to kill him. He was strangling Sam when I came in and shot him."
"Okaayy. I'm guessing the cauchemar found that memory. Sam jerks every time you make a sudden move around him like an abused animal would. This is going to be harder than I thought. All right. First order of business is sleep for all three of us. We'll work on dealing with this in the morning."
"Fine. I should go check on Sam first. See how he's doing." Struggling to get up, Dean wondered if that was all that Sam was reacting to. A glimmer of a suspicion was forming but he would wait until tomorrow to see if he was right.
"I think that would be a bad idea, Dean. Get back on that bed." At Dean's crestfallen look, Caleb added, "Right now he's afraid of you. Let him get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow. I'm sure we can get him to come out of it. He just needs a bit more time."
Dean was troubled. Even when they had fought, the two brothers had never been afraid of each other, of being near the other. To know that the fear in Sam's eyes was caused by him shook him deeply. But Dean trusted Caleb, trusted that he'd help them overcome whatever was troubling Sam. As he lay back onto the bed, exhaustion overcame him, and he slipped into slumber before Caleb had even turned out the light.
Sam heard the two men talking in the bedroom. He knew his fear was irrational, but he just couldn't stop his body from reacting near Dean. He was so confused and tired; his head spinning, he didn't know who the real Dean was.
When Caleb walked into the living room, he discovered that Sam had pulled out the couch bed. He was and was not surprised that Sam had chosen to sleep out here rather than in the other bed in the guest room. The boy was terrified of his brother and had struggled to keep it hidden, unsuccessfully. Caleb felt so guilty. He was the one who had sent them into that situation. Sam's mental anguish could have been avoided. If he'd done his homework more carefully, he'd have known what it was and found an ordinary hunter to confront the thing. Instead, he now had a wounded hunter and a heart-wounded hunter on his hands. He hoped he was up to the task of healing both. Maybe Pastor Jim could help. If nothing worked in a few days, he would give the genial cleric a call. He didn't want to unless he had too. The man would chastise him, and rightly so, for not being more careful, for not doing more thorough research.
Sam glanced up as Caleb approached. He felt so ashamed for not helping Dean but he just couldn't stop twitching around him. "How's Dean? Does he. . . is he okay?"
"He's asleep already, Sam. I didn't even have to knock him out. Did he tell you about what you guys were fighting on the trip here?" Caleb started pulling linens, a blanket, and a pillow out of a closet.
"No. . .we didn't really talk. Caleb, what's wrong with me? I can't seem to stop jumping. I still see Dean when he…"
Starting to make up the bed, Caleb waited to see if Sam could continue. When nothing more was forthcoming, he said, "When he what?"
"When he was trying to kill me. Not him, a shapeshifter, but it looked like him. God, Caleb," Sam ran a hand through his hair, "I didn't react this badly right when it happened. I mean, yeah, I was a little jumpy when he made sudden movements for a while but not like this! Now, I can't bear to be within five feet of him. What am I going to do?" The last came out as a wail. Sam's fear was palpable.
"First things first. You are going to get a good night's rest. This thing that captured you both had the ability to identify and magnify certain people's specific nightmares. You just happen to be one of those unlucky 'certain people.' Come on, Sam. Try to go to sleep. You're safe here."
Sam nodded. "I know. Hell, I know I'm safe with Dean too, but I can't seem to stop being freaked out. What if. . ."
"Sam, trust me, we'll get this worked out. Get some sleep. You've been tortured, man, of course you're not going to bounce back quickly." Caleb walked over to the hallway, "We'll talk in the morning," he said as he turned off the light.
Sam lay down on the couch, pillowing his head on one arm as he turned onto his side. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep but he was wrong. He was asleep before Caleb got into his own bed.
A/N: I'm sorry, last chapter I said this one would conclude it. Unfortunately, the chapter grew so long I chose to split it in half. The final chapter will be up soon. Please let me know what you've thought of my story. I appreciate all the kind notes and comments you have sent so far.