Fly to the Angels
Chapt 11/? (1-2 more)
Summary: Dean has to face his own memories, a trip home, an estranged father, and his own mother.
Pairing: Dean, Sam (gen)
PG13- language warning.
A/N: Title from Slaughter's song of the same name.
I totally misjudged the amount i had to write, so again, i have no idea how many Ch's are to come (possibly one more, maybe two shrugs)
Disclaimer: Supernatural and them guys are not mine. This is not for profit
Chapter 11
Awareness started to come back, back to a darkness that threatened to engulf him whole. Eyes too heavy to open, arms and legs laden, like a weight sinking him down.
Slowly muffled noises slipped through the darkness and haze, distorted and inaudible, some louder than others as he felt something brush lightly across his ear. It was then, somewhere in the nauseating forgetfulness, stuck somewhere he didn't know, that he felt something abruptly grasp his hand, whole and complete as unmistakable fingers entwined tightly between his own as something light and warm was placed against the side of his face.
He relished the contact and leant into the touch.
A flash and a memory and then panic was racing through him as he remembered who the last person was to lovingly place their hands there. He felt his heart speed up within his chest, beats synchronising with annoying intervals of beeps that did nothing to quell the fear spreading through him.
Mom, he thought, is she back … has she gone…?
"Mom?" he managed to whisper, his voice sounding strange, broken and unfamiliar. He forced his eyes open to slits, fighting hard to pry the lids apart. Sharp, bright, painful light met him in return and he immediately let them fall easily closed with a hiss of discomfort.
He wondered, disorientated, if he was still there, back at the doors of the great white marbled architecture, somewhere between the living and the dead.
Noises met his ears again, louder, urgent, insistent, and because he couldn't make sense of it, or possibly because his own voice threatened to fail him, he groaned non-committedly back.
"-ean" the voice said, becoming clearer and less muffled, "Dean? C'mon, I'm here".
"-am?" Dean coughed out, finally finding his voice again, "Sammy?" he asked, voice rough with broken relief.
"Yeah bro" Sam replied reinforcing his touch at his face with a comforting rubbing motion, "Open your eyes for me, will ya".
"Can't" Dean moaned, "Kill the lights. It's hurts like a bitch".
He extracted his fingers slightly from Sam and returned a tighter hold, causing Sam to blink down in surprise. Either Dean was pretty much freaked out about everything that had happened or he really was hurting… enough to show it in a thinly conveyed way of biting down and suppressing it.
"I'll pull the curtains, it's quite bright out" Sam said, slowly pulling away, feeling guilty at breaking the relatively small, yet big for his brother, contact Dean had initiated, as he felt the hold tighten, "I'll only be a sec" he reassured him.
He felt Dean loosen his hold and he slipped his hand easily away as he padded across the room in two quick strides, glancing back at his all-too pale brother, before quickly drawing the curtains to.
"It's done" he said, moving back over to the bed, hesitating for a second, hand hovering over Dean's, now digging in tightly to the sheets, before letting it fall back into place, cupping his fist tightly, "You want me to get someone?"
Dean groaned lightly, shaking his head, as his eyelids fluttered crazily, an unknown battle between light and long eyelashes, until his eyes were finally able to stay open. He blinked tiredly up at Sam.
"Hey there sunshine" Sam smiled, grinning down at him as he slipped into a nearby chair.
Dean broke the eye contact and glanced around the room. Suspicious looking white walls, standard looking curtains, plain bed sheets. Bed sheets, he thought, as he realised he was in a bed and just behind Sam, slightly off to the left, there was a machine that was, he presumed, attached to him and the suspect for the annoying beeps he'd heard as he had awoken.
He returned to look at Sam, frowning, "Sam, this isn't where I left you" he accused.
Sam looked down, continuing to study his brother, who had, only last night, been clinically dead. He would have laughed nervously at that if it hadn't been for the confused frown marring Dean's face, the tight uncharacteristic hold Dean still had, and the unavoidable shiver to his body.
The fear, the devastation, the numbness. It had frozen him to the core. Tears had threatened to drown him away. And just as he had realised that he should ring his father, do something, ANYTHING, as he'd fingered his phone within his pocket with hands shaking like a an old man with brittle bones, Dean's body had suddenly arched and spasmed as a horrible crackling breath erupted from his body, starved of oxygen, as survival or a miracle kicked in.
"Dean?" Sam asked, voice startled and disbelieving, as he pushed himself back to his prone body.
Dean remained unresponsive, eyes closed, but as Sam placed his numb fingers over his neck, relief flooded him, as he felt his brother's pulse beating wildly beneath his fingertips.
"It's o.k. bro" he said as he again pulled Dean's body up and against him, as he dug around him for his phone, "You're going to be o.k."
His dad picked up on the first ring, a testament to how freaked out and worried he was, his father's urgent voice meeting Sam's ears.
"Sam?"
"Yeah" Sam replied, his voice on the fine line between a demanding control and panic, "Get the car started; we need to get to a hospital".
"What the hell happened?" John demanded and Sam heard the sharp intake of breath.
"I'll explain on the way" he said, snapping the phone shut. In truth Sam didn't really have a clue at to what had happened. Not a clue.
Once the phone was safely back in his pocket, he tightened his hold on Dean, arm sweeping around his shoulders and back, his other sweeping his legs up. Dean would hate to be carried like this, hell he'd hate to be carried at all, to be carried was a Winchester Sin, according to his brother.
Fireman lift, Sammy, much more acceptable, Dean had said. Well, Sam thought, what happens in the house, stays in the house. Besides, Dean was already in an easy position to be lifted like this, head lolling against his chest, as Sam staggered down the hallway under Dean's weight.
Their father met them, eyes wide and breaths fast, at the doorway to the house. His arms instantly reached out to take Dean.
Sam hesitated, hands tightening against Dean's body, before stepping closer, letting him take up the role of father once more.
"I'll get the door" Sam said, stepping past, as he broke into a small run.
John came up behind him and once the door was open, Sam helped to slip Dean's loose body into the back bench of the car. John quickly headed for the driver's side.
"In the car. Now" John said sliding into the seat, "And tell me everything…"
"Yeah, well… you happened to be breathing then" Sam replied.
"What?" Dean asked, forehead creasing even further, in an attempt to gather and figure out the events that had transpired.
"You stopped breathing Dean" Sam said, voice gentle and off at the same time, "I thought I'd lost you there".
"I'm here, man" Dean said, taking note of the tight lips, and the slight tremble of the mouth, "Didn't mean to freak you out".
Sam snorted and half-heartedly thumped the bed, "Yeah, you got a habit of doing that".
Dean smiled slightly at him and shrugged.
"Why am here though?" He asked, attempting to push himself further up the bed.
"Didn't we just cover that?" Sam asked, concern lacing his voice. Seeing Dean struggle to sit, he grabbed at his arm tightly and firmly, and helped him into position.
"I mean" Dean said, as his voice caught in his throat with his body movements, "people don't just stop breathing for no reason".
He kicked the covers away and unsteadily swung his legs around as he sat on the edge of the bed, "what did you tell em, 'my brother stopped breathing because he got lost in limbo'?"
"Whoa" Sam protested, placing a restraining arm across Dean's chest, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I can't stay here Sam" Dean barked at him, swatting his arm away as he lurched to his feet, one arm slung out as his hand grappled for the wall. He felt Sam's own arm slide around him, "We can't explain anything Sam and I'm not having any shit tests" he paused, head sliding sideways so he could look at Sam, "They haven't done any tests, have they?"
"Relax Dean, sit down" Sam ordered, voice surprisingly sharp.
Dean found himself sitting abruptly back down, his own momentum taking him, Sam's hand firmly on his shoulder.
"You don't have to worry about a thing" Sam said, more gently, "Dad took care of it".
"Took care how?" Dean asked, weary, and to his own disgust he knew he sounded like he was whining like a small child.
"Took care", Sam said, grinning at him, "as in a private doctor".
"Who?" Dean asked suspiciously, shaking the hand off his shoulder.
"Someone called Daniels" Sam shrugged, "served with Dad. Same unit I think. Said he owed him".
"Man" Dean grumbled, letting his head roll back slightly, "He better be a real doc this time".
"He had his own white coat and stethoscope" Sam interjected hopefully.
"Hospital Sam" Dean laughed wryly, "Not exactly hard to come by"
"He seemed to know what he was doing".
"Oh that makes me feel so much better" Dean replied sarcastically as Sam once again took up his seat.
"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Sam asked, as he looked up at Dean's huddled body, "It was supposed to be easy –"
"Easy?" Dean scoffed out, "Yeah you know, packing mum off, waving her goodbye, so easy-"
"That's not what I meant" Sam breathed in sharply, "I'm sorry, it came out wrong. I meant Missouri said that we'd be connected, grounded…" his voice trailed off as she searched Dean's eyes, hand resting next to Dean's leg, "What happened?"
"How should I know" Dean found himself saying, eyes falling from Sam's, unable to look at him or say that he had cut the connection willingly, how he'd chosen, crazily, not to come back at all, until the need to be with Sam out-lived the need to be with his mom, to be dead and gone, and for it to all be finally over, "I just… kinda lost my way, I guess" he said with a small, defeated shrug of his own, "I'm sorry".
Sam bent forwards and sideways slightly, forcing Dean to meet his eyes, as he came to the conclusion that his brother looked like a small beaten dog. He'd just lost his mother again. How could he bring him back from this? How could he make things better for him?
"You don't have anything to be sorry for" he said, smiling reassuringly.
Dean found himself giving his brother a small smile back, at the dopey eyes and goofy grin that met him. If only he knew, if only…
He reached out, fingertips brushing Sam's raggedy hair, before playfully pushing him harder.
"Dude, you need a haircut" he snorted, straightening up and rolling his neck and shoulders, "why does my head hurt?"
"Right…" Sam began, shifting uncomfortably, "You, umm, sort of took a nock to your noggin".
"Sam…?"
"Jennifer has a hard floor I guess" Sam offered as he silently reminded himself what happens in the house, stays in the house.
Their close body proximity and hushed conversation were suddenly stalled and startled apart as the door opened and a doctor appeared.
"A ha" he exclaimed, "I see you've decided to join the land of the living".
Dean tensed and shifted, biting down hard on his lip, as Sam paled.
"Sorry" the doctor continued, "Not exactly the best choice of words considering the circumstances".
Dean shook his head and gave a small, light, smack to the top of Sam's head. Sam swiped his hand away in response.
"It's o.k." Dean said, "Glad to see someone still has a sense of humour around here".
The doctor came further into the room, standing at the bottom of the bed.
"Teddy Daniels" he said, offering his hand across the length of the bed.
Dean took in the doctor, or more precisely the white doctor's coat that he was wearing. Sam had not been joking when he had said he'd had his own white coat, because, embroidered neatly in a swirl of writing, was his name proudly declaring the arrival of Dr. T.E. Daniels, in such a way it matched the big wide toothy grin that smiled across at him.
"You're a real doc?" Dean asked, eyes squinting at him.
"Last time I checked" Daniels confirmed, looking down at his emblazoned name, and tapped it with a big hand. He reminded Dean of the giant blue furry professor from the X-Men comics. Only he wasn't blue or furry.
Dean and Sam exchanged quick looks and Dean caught the swallowed gulp of laughter from his brother. Jeez, he could have warned him… Daniels was either a proud man or just simply proud to be a doctor. Dean couldn't quite get his head round the fact that he was military.
Dean reached out and gave the doctor a small shake in return.
"So" Daniels said, walking around the bed, until he was standing behind Sam. He let his big hands rest on Sam's shoulders, leaning down, "do you mind letting me give him the once over".
"No, be my guest" Sam said, shaking his head, as he shot Dean a triumphant grin, and moved away, further down the bed.
"He might not" Dean replied, gritting his teeth, "But I do"
""Look, let me give you the once over" Daniels offered, "And I'll see about getting you out of here".
He glanced at the doctor, contemplating the offer, and then smiled.
"I like the way you think".
spnspnspn
"O.K." Daniels nodded, "Usually I'd insist you stay overnight for observation, but considering the circumstances, I'm going to let you leave" he paused and glanced at Sam who was hovering nearby, "I gather you know the drill for concussions".
"God please" Dean complained, readjusting his position on the bed, "Don't encourage him".
Daniels smiled and headed to the door.
"Yeah" Sam nodded, flicking his finger at Dean, "I've had enough practice".
"Well" Daniels said, opening the door, "I'll get the forms then".
"Thanks" Sam said, returning to his brother.
Silence filled the room now that the bumbling and proud man had left and Dean turned his head sideways – he really didn't want to start talking about everything again – and his eyes fell upon a bundle of photos, perched up against the wall on the side table. They were of Sam and him as kids, their mother and father smiling widely behind them.
It was hard to look at his mother without feeling the ache creep back in his heart, but leant forwards slightly and gathered them up in his hands, leafing through the assortment.
"Jennifer" Sam explained, quietly beside him, "She stopped by with the kids. Dropped these off".
Dean stopped looking through the small bundle, letting them fall and rest in his lap.
"How'd she know we were here?" he asked as he stared down at the crisp papers of memories.
"Missouri. She went there, they ended up starting to clear the place up" Sam said, letting Dean take his time. Sam had spent a good amount of time looking at the photos himself, "She wanted to thank you".
Dean looked up, confused.
"I didn't do anything…" he began.
"Us then" Sam corrected, seeing Dean tense again.
"It was you Sam, I just complicated things" he said and before Sam could argue he continued with, "So, they're going back the house".
"They were headed back there" Sam confirmed, guiltily letting Dean steer the conversation away from the unsaid issue.
Dean looked down at the photos. At the family unbroken and whole beaming up at him and if it wasn't for the fact that his mother was still fresh in his mind, he would wonder who the exceptionally happy family were. His eyes shifted to his father, present in the photo, but suspiciously absent from the room
"Where's Dad?" he mumbled, voice so quiet Sam nearly hadn't caught it.
"He was here earlier" Sam said, realising Dean was wondering if their dad had cut loose again, "He took Jennifer and the kids' home. Said, he was going to make sure it was all o.k. there" he paused slightly, "We kinda left in a hurry, left all our stuff there…"
"O.h." Dean said in response.
It was a miracle, Sam thought, that the house hadn't burnt down again, but he left it unsaid, pretty sure that Dean could do without that visionary aid.
"C'mon" he said, taking the photos from Dean's knees, "Let's get ready to go. I'll call dad to come pick us up".
Dean silently slid from the bed as Sam slid his t-shirt and pants across to him. Once he was sure that Dean was steady enough to stay on his feet, he slipped out of the room, to call their father.
spnspnspn
Once back at Missouri's, after she had insisted that they return there instead of their rapidly unused motel room, she smiled at all three Winchester men and informed them that Dean was completely free of any spirits and spiritual energies.
Dean had gone back to the room he had shared with Sam the previous day and gratefully claimed the bed, laying on his stomach, face down and turned sideways against the pillow, mouth slightly open, body slack.
He'd never seen him so tired, Sam thought, as he sat on the edge of the bed watching him. Dean had two types of sleeping - full alert, with a swift slash of the knife and sudden defensive hunter mode, his body in-tune with the environment and the activities around him even in sleep. The other was the exhaustion that occasionally claimed him when either his well-built defensive walls strained under the pressure ant threatened to buckle or the hunt had simply taken it out of him and exhausted him. Of course he would deny it until, again, he'd simply collapse.
Dean was currently in an exhausted sleep and with it came a sense of raw vulnerability and a startling snapshot of how young he looked. Part of Sam was sat there, studying him, as if he was an obscure science project and part of him was still in the protective mode that he had found himself in through the ever-increasing disaster of hunts that they had been lead into.
He fingered the photos that Jennifer had dropped off and sighed. His mother looked absolutely stunning, beautiful and happy, with his father and Dean, in a time of innocence, smiling easily into the camera, seemingly unaware of the horrors to come.
With a strangled and frustrated sigh he leant over Dean and dropped the photos on to the table.
"She was beautiful wasn't she?" a voice said from behind.
He turned sideways and saw his father in the doorway.
"Yeah" he nodded.
John walked in slowly talking a wide path around the bed, Sam and Dean.
"How is he?" John asked.
"Asleep" Sam replied as if it wasn't pretty obvious.
"Yeah" John snorted in reply.
"He's pretty tired" Sam offered, pulling the loose cover up to tuck it around Dean's exposed shoulder, "It's been a rough couple of days".
"Sure" John said, moving further away, to lean on the window ledge, "You know when you were a kid, he used to sit like that over you." He smiled and shrugged, "Put you to bed. Got you up".
Sam removed his hand from Dean's shoulder and placed both on to his knees, lips tight and pursed as he stared at his father.
"Everything you should have done?" Sam asked pointedly, his own voice tired and stretched, but devoid of the bitterness he'd had earlier.
"Maybe" John conceded, "You know, I'd be gone for a few days, come home from a hunt, and I'd find him sitting over you, watching you sleep".
"Where are you going with this Dad?" Sam asked suddenly worried by the pained and almost wistful way he was speaking. John Winchester didn't do wistful.
"I just want you to know, that I love you and Dean" John broke in, eyes suddenly catching directly with Sam, across the wide space of the room, "And that the things I do, aren't meant to hurt you".
"Dad?"
"I'll be leaving later" John exclaimed.
Sam didn't say anything at first; he just continued staring across at their father, across the wide gap that John had forcefully made. He might as well be out of the door and halfway across America, Sam decided.
"Right" Sam snorted, "I see".
"No you don't Sam"
"You're leaving" Sam clarified, eyes hardening, "Again".
"I'm not doing it to hurt you" John calmly stated, "This isn't about hurting you for leaving me".
Sam was suddenly at a loss for words, taken aback at his father's interpretation of his anger, and anger boiled away more.
"What about Dean Dad?" Sam hissed across at him and at the sound of his name, Dean moaned and shuffled on the bed, prompting Sam to lean down, "Shh, go back to sleep".
"Look I have my reasons" John defended himself, "And I understand that you want to come with me, but" he paused and looked uneasy, "I have some leads and connections that I want to look into".
Sam shot up and stalked across to him, speaking fast and hot into his face.
"There you go again" Sam spat, "Mr Mysterious, what aren't your sons good enough for you?"
"Look Sam" John said, slowly lifting his arms up and placing them gently on either side, "I understand what I'm saying is not sitting well with you, but I don't particularly know what I'm walking into and I don't want you boys there until I know for sure".
"Not sitting well!" Sam exclaimed, shoving John's arms away, "God you patronizing son of a… Don't we get a choice in this"?
"Let me finish" John shot out, "I'm trying to find answers here for the both of us. You really want to take Dean into a situation that we have no idea what we are going up against" he paused and gestured across to the bed, "He needs time, I need you both 100 "
Sam moved back from John and glanced at Dean, who still had a deathly pale glow to him, at the shadows around his eyes, at his vulnerable brother who lay asleep exhausted and may or not have an emotional breakdown.
"You've changed Sam" John spoke into his back, "You're not a little kid anymore… Dean needs you. I need you to be there for him... I'm sorry" the last words were whispered out quietly and brokenly.
I don't know if I can be there for him, Sammy
Sam turned and faced him again; face setting hard, as he nodded.
"Just don't go without saying goodbye to him"
tbc (possibly 1-2 more to go)