Part XI
"Dean, wait."
Sam joined Dean, standing just behind him. The air was charged with an expectant energy, much like it had been yesterday just before the thunder rolled in. The inevitability of the meeting made Sam uneasy. He wasn't sure Dean was ready for this on top of everything else.
John Winchester maintained eye contact with his eldest son, but his head was lowered, hands tucked into the front pockets of faded jeans. Sam immediately understood that his father was attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. He appreciated the effort, but it was a total lost cause. The man resembled a grizzly bear just out of hibernation. Sam shook his head. Jesus, Dad. Could the man not have showered and shaved first? He looked like he'd come straight off a three day hunt.
"I asked you a question, buddy," Dean growled, in full parental protection mode.
John's gaze finally flickered to Sam over Dean's shoulder. Sam was both surprised and relieved that his father was clearly giving him the opportunity to guide the encounter.
"It's okay, Dean," Sam soothed. Dean reacted to his presence, stance shifting slightly, but didn't stand down from the perceived threat.
"Yeah?" Dean's voice was hard, clearly unconvinced, "How's that?"
Sam watched as John's eyes strayed to Isabella. She was uncharacteristically silent, no doubt due to the tension she could sense from Dean. A soft, crooked smile stretched across the eldest hunter's face and his father was transformed from grizzly bear to teddy bear right before his very eyes. Sam sighed. It had been going to come to this eventually. He might as well take the bull by the horns.
Sam placed a calming hand on Dean's shoulder. The spun-gold curls of Isabella's hair tickled his forearm as she looked up at him. Dean didn't react at all until Sam gave a reassuring squeeze. Finally, Dean turned to look at him with a raised brow. Sam purposely let his eyes lock with John's. When he was certain he had Dean's full attention he said, "Hey, Dad."
Sam felt his brother's start of surprise as he turned back to face John, "Dad?"
John swallowed hard at that but kept his focus on Sam and with a slight nod said, "Son."
Dean shifted again hiking Isabella higher on his hip, Sam's hand fell away from his brother's shoulder and he stepped forward to take a place at Dean's side.
"What are you doing here?" Sam was going for casual but the question still came out more pointed than intended.
John gave a slight shrug, "Just passing through." His answer was just flip enough to piss Sam off. He knew John was irritated with him for not staying in touch, for not keeping him updated on what was happening with Dean.
Peripherally, Sam noticed his brother watching them both closely, looking back and forth between them, instinctively picking up on the strained subtext.
"So, ah..." Dean said in an apparent attempt to break the tension, "you're Sam's dad?" Switching Isabella to his left hip, Dean extended his right hand to the stranger before him and introduced himself. "Dean Matthews."
John hesitated, looking at Dean's hand. Sam knew just how surreal this moment had to be for his father. It wasn't often that your first born introduced himself to you, after all. John took the proffered hand and looked at Dean through eyes that were so openly loving that it damn near put a lump in Sam's throat. Sam had been so focused on his own agenda, he forgot that he wasn't the only one with an emotional stake in how this all played out.
In the spirit of presenting a united front and to put Dean at complete ease in John's presence, Sam did something that went against every fiber of his being - he stepped away from his brother and joined his father's side.
Sam's unease grew as Dean frowned, his gaze encompassing both of them for the first time in over five years.
Voice surprisingly steady, Sam stood just behind John's shoulder, two or three inches taller and said, "I'd like you to meet my father, John Winchester."
Head canted and brow knitted, Dean eyed both Sam and John carefully. The long moment of silence that followed bordered on awkward until Isabella piped in with a wave and a cheery, "Hi!" in John's direction.
"Hello, Sweetheart," John responded with an affectionate grin he didn't even bother to try and hide. Sam absently noted that Isabella did not call him on the nickname.
"Dean?" Sam asked, concerned when Dean continued to merely stare at them.
Dean's lack of response finally permeated. "Yeah," he visibly tried to shake off whatever was unsettling him, his response delayed, "sorry...just, wow, déjà vu or something, man. Don't mind me." He held his hand out to John again, either unaware or forgetting that he had just shaken the man's hand.
John and Sam shared a worried glance. This seemed to unnerve Dean even more. When John reached to shake his son's hand again, Dean pulled back, eyes narrowing. "Are you...have we…?"
Sam tensed as Dean trailed off, looking more confused and uncertain by the minute. Despite that, he watched as Dean tried to pull his scattered thoughts together and form a coherent sentence.
"Sorry," Dean apologized again. "I just...I feel like I know you from somewhere."
John's drawl was slow as molasses, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Guess I've just got one of those faces." Only someone who knew his father well would recognize just how forced the response was.
Dean continued to study John, distracted. "Right."
The stilted standoff ended with Isabella's shrill shout, "Spooky!" she said pointing to the tree line.
For all of the kitten's tenacity in reaching the woods, Spooky had not ventured very far. The little black cat was currently covered in pine needles, playfully wrestling with the end of his leash.
"I've got him," Sam said as he retrieved the wayward pet. His intentions were to hold on to the cat, but Isabella's outstretched arms indicated she had other ideas.
When he stepped forward to hand off the kitten, Dean surprised him by taking a step back. Sam froze at the deliberate movement.
"Dean?"
Whatever Isabella sensed from Dean had her subsiding without argument, her arm going back over her father's shoulder.
"Something's not..." The tips of Dean's fingers stroked his temple. Sam frowned, recognizing the familiar tug at the corner of his brother's eyes. He stepped forward in concern, stopping only when Dean took another step back, arm extended to keep him at bay. Sensitive eyes blinked against the setting sun and Dean's voice was a ragged whisper, "Wait," he said, obviously unsettled, "just...give me a minute."
Sam immediately backed off, the hand not holding the little black kitten rising in placation. "Dean," he asked with careful deliberation, "where's your medication?" This was so not the place to deal with a debilitating migraine.
At the sound of Sam's voice, Dean met his gaze and held it, though it was obviously painful for him to do so. Sam was surprised to see a muted wariness in the deep green depths of his brother's eyes that he hadn't seen in months. The distress he felt at that must have shown on his face. Dean's expression immediately morphed into one of concern and his body shifted towards Sam unconsciously.
Sam could tell that the reaction confused him. Distracted by whatever was going on inside his head, Dean didn't respond.
"Boys?" John's voice was quietly commanding, holding a hint of sharp and familiar annoyance at being the outsider to his son's silent communication.
Dean was visibly startled by the tone. When Sam took a hesitant step forward, drawing his brother's gaze, something shifted between them, a momentary spark of recognition that sent Sam's heart racing and his hope surging.
"Dean?" Sam tried to remain calm, he really did, but it was all there in his voice.
His brother's eyes widened. The hand that wasn't wrapped around Isabella reached abortively for his head, pausing to swipe away a cobweb of something. Dean took another step back, panic beginning to replace confusion. He turned away from John and Sam and staggered, almost losing his balance. Sam saw Isabella clutch a handful of Dean's shirt as his hold loosened and she began to slide from his grasp. Thankfully instinct took over and Dean's arm tightened around her as Sam and John bracketed the pair protectively on either side.
"Easy, kiddo," John's voice was low and soothing, but didn't seem to register.
"Sam..." Dean looked at him as if seeing him for the first time his gaze wild and searching. What's happening to me?
Sam's first instinct was to reach out, but Dean wasn't responding well to that. The decision was taken from him when Dean went to his knees with a sharp, startled gasp, free hand clutching his head. He managed to hold onto Isabella on the way down, but she hit the ground off-balance and landed on her bottom next to him. She looked truly frightened for the first time. When John would have moved forward to assist, Sam raised a hand to stay him, though it was likely the plea in his eyes that won reluctant compliance. Dean knew him. Trusted him. Dad would have to earn that on his own.
His other arm suddenly free, Dean clutched his head tightly in both hands. Curling in on himself, muscles straining against the pain, Dean's initial cry of agony shifted to a low rolling moan in the back of his throat. The tips of his fingers pressed white against his skull as he bowed forward on his knees, forearms resting on the ground in front of him.
Sam knelt next to him and released a suddenly squirming Spooky. For Isabella's sake he hoped the kitten didn't go too far, but at the moment he had bigger concerns. He rested one hand on Dean's iron-tense back and couldn't help but notice that the pain was different. Dean struggled, rocking and surging against the pain whereas previously it had all but immobilized him. Always before there had been some measure of awareness on Dean's part - he knew Sam was there and that he was trying to help. That didn't seem to be the case this time. Dean could do nothing but react to the pain. Feeling a growing sense of urgency Sam searched his pockets for the two pills he'd lifted yesterday when Dean had collapsed at the top of the stairs. He'd taken them as a precautionary measure only…on the off chance that something like this could happen.
Sam knew that if the pain wasn't dealt with immediately, the situation was going to go from bad to worse. Peripherally he saw John retrieve his cell phone from his pocket, ready to call 911 if necessary. Isabella watched her father with wide eyes, but overall remained eerily calm, much like she had the day before. Maybe it's genetic, he thought randomly. Dean had a history of doing the same. The more extreme the situation, the more intensely focused his brother became.
Dean's jaw was locked. Sam tried to deposit the medication several times to no avail. He was beginning to panic as one of Dean's hands dug deep into the ground, fisting a handful of grass. Sam looked to John helplessly as a quiet, pain-filled sob echoed in the space between them. Though he knew it would initially cause more distress, he was on the verge of forcing the issue when Dean cried out, every muscle in his body strung tight as he arched against the pain. Then, as if some invisible force cut the strings keeping his body taut, Dean collapsed in a boneless heap beneath Sam's hand. Still on his knees, head to the ground, Dean sagged in relief, panting harshly.
Sam's gaze flickered to John, uncertain. He wasn't sure what to do - this was all new. There was a struggle in his father's eyes, but in the end, his gaze was steady, encouraging. He was letting Sam take the lead here. Sam's attention was drawn back to Dean as fine tremors, residual effects from the pain, worked their way through his brother's body. Dean had released his head, his hands loosely braced on the ground as he tried to catch his breath.
"Dean?" Sam prompted, voice surprisingly steady, "Come on, man. You with me?"
Sam's hand was still resting on Dean's back. If not for that he wouldn't have felt the subtle jolt at his words. There was a pause, as if for a split second his brother had stopped breathing. Dean's hand, the one closest to Sam's knee, flexed, moving and inch or two towards the sound of his voice.
"Talk to me, man," Sam encouraged, "Say something."
It took nearly a minute for his brother to respond. Then finally, panting softly, his voice small and uncharacteristically weak, Dean spoke. It was one word only, but it was enough...and it changed everything.
"…Sammy?"
For the span of several heartbeats, time stilled for Sam. Every ounce of hope he'd felt over the last three months culminated in one deeply drawn breath. Please, God.
Gently, Sam helped ease his brother back to his knees. Saw Dean's eyes close at the movement.
"Dean?"
John and Isabella had, for the moment, melted away. Sam's entire focus was for Dean only.
"Open your eyes, man." Sam's breath finally hitched. "Look at me." Remember me.
Dean did as he was asked and Sam nearly wept at the recognition he saw in confused, moss colored eyes. The concerned gaze that met his was not that of the friend he had made over the last few months, but that of the brother he'd known since birth. Sam could feel the smile spreading across his face, but was oblivious to the tears that broke free.
Dean's brow furrowed, head titling subtly to the right as he gazed at him, "You okay, Sammy?"
He laughed then. He couldn't help it. Full of relief and joy, and maybe just a tinge of hysteria, Sam laughed. "Yeah," he said tenderly, "I'm just fine." Now.
Dean regarded him carefully, as if Sam were the one that was touched in the head. It didn't matter. Between one moment and the next, it was as if the world, which had been slightly askew since John showed up at Stanford, had finally righted itself. It didn't matter what happened next, if Dean never remembered the feelings they shared for each other, it was enough just to have his brother back.
"Here," Sam said, holding Dean's medication out in the palm of his hand. "Take these." He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew his brother couldn't handle another migraine like the one he'd just experienced. He hated that the medication would put Dean out – but it would also prevent any other occurrences.
Dean's eyes flickered from the pills to Sam, but he took them without question.
"Daddy?"
Dean visibly jerked as he became aware of Isabella. She moved to hug him, but was held back as Dean caught her by slim shoulders. He held her at arm's length and just looked at her.
Sam watched with veiled panic, fearing for one long horrifying moment that just because Dean remembered him that he'd perhaps forgotten everything else. Isabella's entire body angled towards her father, seeking reassurance. Sam was aware of John's very focused attention as they both held their breath, waiting to see what Dean would do.
Dean looked at his daughter with conflicting emotions - fear and awe both vying for dominance. He looked at her like he'd never seen her before but yet knew every inch of her in a way that only a father could. When Isabella's distress finally permeated his shock he pulled her to him swiftly, but gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her tightly, burying his face in her hair.
"It's okay, baby," Dean whispered, rocking back and forth on his knees, "everything's going to be okay." He still looked pretty shell-shocked himself, but his voice was steady, "I promise."
Dean gave Isabella the time she needed, let her cling to him until her grip turned less desperate. It wasn't until she pulled back slightly that Dean leaned forward and set her on her feet in front of him. He smiled at her reassuringly and took time to smooth back her hair and adjust her jumper. Again, Dean just looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak and then faltered, shaking his head as if he just couldn't believe that the beautiful creature before him was truly his. Finally he took her tiny face in his hands and kissed her forehead.
"Everything's going to be fine," Dean reiterated then pulled back to look her in the eye. "I need you to be a big girl for Daddy, okay?"
Isabella had that crease in her brow that was so similar to Dean's. It deepened at his words. "I am a big girl," she said, managing, despite her lingering upset, to sound just a touch indignant. All three adults smiled.
"We're going to do something a little different tonight," Dean said. "Sam is going to drive you to Grandma Liv's for a sleepover."
While sleepovers at Liv's were not uncommon, they were usually on a Friday or Saturday night. Dean kept Isabella to a relatively structured schedule for the most part, and a sleepover on a Sunday night was highly unusual. Not quite ready to be separated from her father, Sam saw the protest building in the expression on her face. Dean cocked an eyebrow, reminding Isabella of her previous comment. She subsided with a pout.
While Liv was Isabella's second favorite person in the world, Sam could completely sympathize with her desire to cling a little closer to Dean after what just happened. He felt the same way.
"Can I take Spooky with me?" Isabella asked.
When Dean gave the nod, Sam scooped up the playful black kitten, which had luckily not strayed too far, and handed him to Isabella. She hugged him a little too tightly. The effects of the drugs were beginning to show in Dean. Sam knew that he would hold on as long as he could for Isabella's sake, but that it was a losing battle. He had to get her out of here so that John could get Dean home. He held his arms out to his niece.
"C'mere, Sunshine," he said.
Isabella hesitated long enough to wrap one arm around Dean's neck. "I love you, Daddy."
Sam swallowed. While the affection between the two was obvious on any given day, an outright declaration was always special. Isabella was obviously still a little unsettled. Dean returned her hug until Spooky meowed pitifully, confined between them. Father and daughter broke the embrace with a giggle from Isabella at the kitten's expense.
"I love you, too, Darlin'," Dean said ducking his head and holding her gaze. "I know I scared you and you'll never know how sorry I am for that." Isabella's eyes were large as Dean acknowledged her fear. "But Daddy needs you to trust him for now." There was complete confidence in Dean's voice now as he said, "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."
Isabella nodded, the conviction in her father's voice all she needed to hear, her trust in Dean implicit. With a guiding hand from Dean, she turned to Sam. He didn't give her the option of walking, instead he picked her up, balancing her weight on his hip as he looked down at Dean on his knees. Sam felt the pull to stay, but knew that he had to do this for Dean - was relieved to see the same implicit trust in his brothers eyes that Sam would see Isabella safely to Liv's.
Sam took a reluctant step back, eyes locking with John's where he stood behind Dean. You got him?
At John's sharp nod, Sam shared a final glance with Dean before turning and departing with Isabella. "Let's get you to Grandma's, Sunshine."
Sam walked to his rental at the edge of the park. He didn't have a car seat but he'd found quite by accident a few weeks ago that the vehicle had a built-in one in the center of the backseat. He never imagined he'd have occasion to use it. Dean without his memory, despite the friendship they were building, would never have allowed Sam to take Isabella anywhere on his own. It took him a minute to figure out the straps and make sure they were snug enough without being too tight. Isabella was patient about the whole thing. Sam may have just imagined it, but Spooky was the one who seemed to be looking at him like he was an idiot.
"Shut up," he said to the little kitten blinking up at him from the seat next to his niece.
Isabella looked startled for a second before giving a delighted giggle. She made eye contact with him and they shared a moment that for Sam affirmed that everything really was going to be okay. From the moment his brother met his gaze Sam knew that he was going to be all right, but it wasn't until this very moment that he acknowledged that it just wouldn't be okay at all if it was at Isabella's expense.
"Ready?" he asked.
Isabella nodded, scooping Spooky back into her arms for the ride. She looked no worse for the wear and Sam marveled at her resilience. Okay, then. He closed the door and spared a final look in Dean's direction, pausing before he climbed into the driver's seat. John was kneeling in front of Dean, one hand wrapped around the back of his son's neck, their heads together as Dad offered the intimate comfort and reassurance that Sam longed to give.
Sam felt a twinge of…not jealousy so much as envy. Dean was close with John in a way that Sam had long since rebelled against. His trust in their father was absolute – had never wavered the way Sam's had. A look, a touch, one word from John was all it took to put his brother at ease. As much as Sam wanted to resent the man's presence, he found that, for Dean's sake, he could not. Dean was going to need that. He was going to need them both.
The ride to Liv's was quiet. Isabella's voice low as she carried on a conversation with Spooky in the backseat. Sam resisted the urge to step on it as he made his way through town, the look in Dean's eyes as he left still fresh in his mind, reminding him of the precious cargo he carried. He considered calling ahead to let Liv know he was coming, but decided against it in the end. She would have too many questions.
"We're here," Sam announced as he put the car in park. He knew from previous visits that Liv had several changes of clothing on hand for Isabella and he was fairly certain she had pajamas as well so he hadn't bothered stopping at the house to grab anything. So long as she had Spooky, Isabella would be as content as she could be without Dean.
"Sam, what…?" Liv opened the door before he could knock.
Isabella practically leaped from his arms to Liv's. Surprised, Liv held her close, one hand going to the back of her head as she gazed wide-eyed at Sam over her granddaughters shoulder. Isabella was never clingy. Automatically on alert, Liv's gaze sharpened as she studied him. That it was another migraine was obvious, but, "What's happened?" she asked.
Sam met her gaze but didn't respond. He was fidgety, anxious to get back to Dean.
"Something's different," Liv was upset, but doing well to keep it in check for Isabella's sake. "What is it, Sam?"
Sam both loved and loathed how observant the woman was. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't have time for this. "Nothing. It's just...it was pretty bad, Liv." He let his eyes stray to Isabella meaningfully, then, "I've gotta get back, I don't want to leave him alone too long."
Liv hesitated, troubled eyes full of love and concern for his brother. "He can't go on like this, Sam. Something's gotta give...and I'm afraid what that might be."
"It's going to be okay," Sam said. It was meant to be placating but he heard the certainty in his voice as clearly as Liv did. "Dean's going to be fine."
She held his gaze for a long moment and then subsided with a nod. "Take care of him, Sam."
"I will," he said with a nod as he turned to leave - almost missing Liv's soft response.
"I know you will."
-wWw-
Though he was feeling a sense of urgency that wasn't altogether rational, Sam stopped at the Corner Store for a large cup of the coffee that Dean loved for both himself and John. It was going to be a long night, and John especially had looked like he could use a little caffeine infusion to get him through it. He regretted the decision when he ended up in line behind a scratch ticket aficionado who'd just won thirty bucks playing Lucky Casino. Instead of taking the money and calling it good, the guy was slowly deciding the best way to divvy up his winnings on more tickets. Idiot.
Thankfully, Trina, the cashier, sensed his frustration and caught his eye. There were benefits to living in one place long enough to become a regular.
"Just the coffee, Hon?" she asked knowingly.
Sam handed her a five with a grateful smile, "Keep the change."
The sun had all but set, painting a beautiful swath of quickly fading red and orange across the western portion of the sky as he made his way back to Dean's. Sam barely noticed it as he pulled into the drive next to the Impala, John's truck a hulking presence on the street in front of the house.
The door was unlocked, the house dark as he made his way inside. Sam flipped the light on in the kitchen to see by as he made his way towards the stairs. He wasn't surprised to see John sitting in his chair next to the bed when he entered the dim room.
"Here," he said, handing John a coffee and walking around him to the other side of the bed. He turned on the small lamp next to the window, toed off his sneakers, and sat next to Dean on the bed. "How's he doing?"
John took a large grateful sip of his coffee as Sam bent his legs and tucked his feet under him.
"I had to practically carry him up the stairs," John responded, his eyes trained on Dean's sleeping face. "What did you give him?"
"Imitrex. He's got a script for it," Sam answered. "It hits him pretty hard."
John snorted, Yeah, no shit.
The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortably, just there, as they sipped their coffee to the sound of Dean's soft breathing.
Sam waited it out. He knew that John had something to say to him and that it would likely come out sooner rather than later. He eyed his father surreptitiously. The man looked so worn out that it was hard not to feel some sympathy for him. Sam found himself softening despite himself. It was of course at that time that John chose to open his mouth.
"I don't know whether to thank you or throttle you, kid." John's voice was rumbly deep, but didn't hold the anger that Sam was expecting. "This could have gone wrong on so many levels."
One of Sam's brows arched upwards in surprise, at the tone more than anything. John's gaze left Dean and settled heavily on him. "It still could."
"I know," Sam agreed. He'd known from the beginning that he was taking a risk. But it was also a risk he knew that he couldn't not take. "I had to, Dad. I just...I had to."
John looked at him intently for a long time. Sam held his gaze, refusing to fidget. Despite the sometimes volatile nature of their relationship, it would have killed him to see even the slightest hint of disgust in his father's eyes.
"And if he doesn't remember?" John asked pointedly. There was no question as to the meaning behind the query. It was the first time John had openly, albeit subtly, acknowledged this thing between his sons. Sam didn't hesitate in his response.
"It doesn't matter," he said truthfully. "He's my brother. I want him in my life."
John looked sad, a little resigned as his gaze returned to Dean. Sam had the feeling that as badly as he was hoping that Dean would remember the feelings between them, John was hoping he would not.
Sam was content to return to the silence after that. This was not something they could discuss. There was a clearly defined line here and they stood on opposing sides. The unfortunate part of it was that, as usual, Dean was in the middle. And they both knew it.
John gave it a valiant effort, he did, but he'd been without sleep for too long. He began to droop not long into their vigil.
"There's a guest room down the hall if you wanna get some shut eye," Sam suggested quietly. "He's going to be out for a few hours."
John straightened in the chair, rubbing a hand over his face. One hand braced on his knee he continued to watch Dean. Sam eyed him curiously.
"All I see when I close my eyes is him in that damn hospital bed," John said roughly.
Sam remained quiet. He wanted to hear what his father had to say, was afraid if he said anything at all that John would suddenly realize that he was caring and sharing.
"He was so pale. So still." John looked down at his feet. Just when Sam thought he was done, he said, "I thought we'd lost him."
Sam swallowed. A part of him would never forgive his father for not calling him, never forgive himself for not being there. Yet there was a small part of him that was grateful to be spared the immediate agony of what John had gone through when Dean was in the coma.
"Whatever happens," John said with finality, "we'll deal with it. He's alive. That's all that matters."
Sam knew better than to take that as any kind of tacit approval in regard to the feelings he had for his brother, but he couldn't help but feel heartened all the same. He didn't dare jinx it by responding.
John was unsteady as he stood, steps tired and heavy as he made his way down the hall to the guest room. Sam heard muted and familiar snoring a few moments later. He took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing infinitesimally. Having John here to share the burden of worry was okay, but he was glad to be alone with his brother once again.
"The ball's in your court, dude," Sam said quietly.
He watched the rise and fall of Dean's chest and the hand that rested lax and comfortable on his stomach. Sam extended one finger, stroking Dean's arm just above the curve of elbow finding the skin cool to the touch. He pulled the throw at the end of the bed over his brother, the corner of his mouth quirking affectionately at the small sigh and subtle snuggle into the warmth it provided.
"I don't know what's gonna happen, but it's good to have you back, man."
-wWw-
Sam wasn't sure what woke him. He barely remembered curling up around midnight with his arm as a pillow when he realized Dean had slipped into a more natural slumber and wouldn't be waking. Yawning, he stretched out his arm and checked his watch for the time.
2:51 A.M.
His brother had been out for nearly seven hours. Movement from the other side of the bed had Sam sitting up in anticipation, and was likely what had woken him in the first place. He watched as Dean, still on his back, turned his head away from him and shifted his legs restlessly. A little disappointed when he settled again, Sam planted his feet on the floor and stood. The lamp by the window was still lit, casting a soft glow on one side of the room.
"Sammy?"
Sam was mid-stretch facing away from the bed when he heard the whisper soft query.
"Here," Sam said, moving quickly to the other side of the bed and sitting in the chair John had vacated a few hours ago. "I'm right here, Dean."
Dean blinked owlishly, remnants of sleep clinging to too long lashes.
"Hey," Sam's voice gentle, "how do you feel?"
Despite the use of the dreaded nickname he didn't mind quite so much anymore, Sam felt the butterflies return to his stomach when Dean didn't respond.
Please, God.
"What do you remember?" he asked as neutrally as possible.
Sam watched as Dean's thoughts turned inward, considering the question.
"I..." Dean paused, uncertain. The look on his face grew more intense as he tried to force it. Finally, giving up, he expelled a loud sigh, and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. "It's...everything's...mixed up."
"It's okay," Sam soothed, praying that what he was about to say was true, "it'll work itself out. Just give it time."
When Dean didn't move or respond, Sam gave in to the temptation to reassure himself.
"Dean?" he asked hesitantly, "You do remember me, right?"
At that, Dean removed his hands from his eyes and just blinked at Sam. And despite the fact that for five years his brother had no memory of him, Dean just looked at him.
Like I'd ever forget you, Sammy.
It was the look that went along with it, the as if, idiot, that eased the knot in Sam's stomach and had the corner of his mouth quirking.
Then, tilting his head the tiniest bit, eyes narrowed, Dean asked, "Dude, aren't you supposed to be in school?"
"Ah," Sam tried to keep his voice light, but his concern returned. "Graduated. Remember?"
Dean frowned, searching gaze turned inward again. It took a second or two but there was certainty in both his eyes and voice as he pointed his index finger at him. "University. Teacher."
Sam nodded, relieved.
Dean shook his head slightly and tried to hide a yawn. "Teacher, huh? What happened to law school?"
Sam ducked his head. "Guess I found something I loved more than law."
The double meaning was not lost on him. Sam peeked through his bangs to gauge Dean's reaction.
Sam could tell that Dean was curious, but it was also obvious that despite seven hours of sleep, his brother was still exhausted. Dean yawned, blinking slowly a couple of times before his eyes finally drifted shut. Sam was patient and quiet as he waited it out. After a couple of minutes Dean pried his eyes open again.
Sam smiled at him warmly, full of affection. "Sleep. I'll tell you all about it in the morning."
For a second Sam thought his brother was going argue. Instead his eyes slipped reluctantly closed with a barely audible, "'Kay."
Sam watched him sleep for a long time. This was different than his previous bedside vigils. While he and Dean had become friends, it had been a stranger's gaze with a familiar face that met him when Dean woke from a migraine. It lacked the shared history and brotherly intimacy that he would never again take for granted. Now, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had his brother back.
Dean stirred again only a half hour later, a little more with it this time. He looked surprised to find Sam still watching over him.
"Can't sleep?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed and threw off the covers. "Nature calls," he said, but didn't look inclined to move otherwise.
After a moment Sam stood, pushed the chair back and offered his brother a hand. Dean accepted but swayed alarmingly when he got to his feet, eyes closed. Sam gripped his hand tighter, free hand going to Dean's elbow to keep him balanced.
Sam gave him time to get his bearings. "Okay?"
A couple seconds later and with a not so overly convincing, "I'm good," Dean was shuffling barefoot into the attached bathroom.
"Hey," Sam called out before he could shut the door. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You want something?"
Sam knew the medication made Dean thirsty. He also knew that his brother wouldn't outright ask him for anything for himself.
"Yeah." Dean's voice was still rough with sleep. "That'd be great. Thanks."
In the time it took Sam to make his way to the kitchen and fill a couple of glasses with water, Dean had finished his business and returned to bed, was propped up against the headboard, arms and ankles crossed, eyes closed. If it weren't for the short amount of time he'd been gone, Sam would have thought he'd fallen back to sleep.
"Here," he said as Dean's eyes opened. "Drink this."
Sam had done this whole bedside vigil migraine thing a few times now. It seemed to surprise his brother each and every time just how thirsty he really was. The first sip was always tentative, not sure if he wanted it or not. A teaser. The next thing Sam knew, his brother was downing the entire glass as if his life depended on it. He didn't even stop to take a breath, just pulled in a big lung full of air when the glass was empty, wiping stray drops from his chin with the back of his hand. Sam took the empty glass and immediately handed Dean the other full one.
Dean looked at the glass, and then at Sam, only now recognizing the ruse. He took it, holding Sam's gaze over the rim as he drank. When he'd had enough he set the remainder on the bedside table, watching as Sam placed the empty glass next to it.
Sam didn't say anything, was willing to let Dean set the course of conversation.
Dean looked around his room as if he were seeing it for the first time. He shook his head ruefully, looking awkward and sheepish for the first time.
"Pretty trippy, huh?"
"What?" Sam asked, though he had a pretty good idea.
"This," Dean gestured abortively to the room. "Me. The house. The kid. It just…" Dean sounded lost and completely overwhelmed. "I mean, this whole settling down gig was always more your thing than mine…"
Sam nodded as Dean trailed off. He'd thought the same thing once, just a few short months ago. Dean had proven him wrong though.
"I don't know," Sam treaded carefully but honestly, understanding how out of depth his brother felt. "It suites you, man. Really."
Uncertain, Dean met his gaze from beneath a sweep of lashes. Sam's smirk was gentle, his eyes teasing as he swiped an imaginary stray tear. "My brother, a card carrying member of the PTA." He shook his head, all mock-proud.
Dean's smile was genuine, if a bit shy, "Shuddup."
Sam laughed, and God, didn't it feel good.
"Seriously, dude, you totally rock the parental vibe," he said, and then ducking his head added, "I always knew you'd be a good father."
Dean looked a little startled by the sincerity.
"Isabella," Sam continued, "she's great, man."
"Yeah," Dean agreed with a touch of pride, but was obviously still overwhelmed by the idea. "Can you believe it, man? Me. A father. Who'd have thought?"
Sam felt John's presence just before he heard him. They both looked up to see John, sleep-rumpled, leaning against the door jamb. "You've always been great with kids," he said, "Hell, you practically raised this runt." John's eyes cut to Sam briefly.
"Dad." It was whispered with such love and reverence that Sam had to look away.
"How you feelin', sport?" John stepped into the room. Out of ingrained respect, Sam immediately gave up the chair to his father and claimed a spot on the other side of the bed.
Dean's reunion with John in the park had been brief, clouded by the medication that was overtaking his system. To say that he was emotionally affected by John's presence was an understatement. His expression was a touching mixture of unconditional love and undeniable betrayal.
"Where?" His brother swallowed unable to finish, though the question was clear. Where have you been? Why weren't you here?
"Here," John understood, his eyes bright and full of emotion. "I've been here, for everything, son." He reached out, gripping Dean's arm just above his wrist. "I've been here."
Dean continued to look at him, wrecked, uncertain.
"Everything I ever wanted for you, you had with Jenna," John explained. "I wasn't going to risk that just because I wanted to be a part of your life."
John's tone was matter of fact. He delivered the words carefully, with no hint of apology. Sam couldn't help but feel defensive, like John was saying that he'd cared enough to not go barging into Dean's life the way Sam had. He bristled, but remained silent.
"And, well...by the time Jenna...when she was killed," John stumbled a little at the pain that flared in Dean's eyes, "I didn't want to bring the hunt back into your life, cause you any more pain than you were already dealing with."
Dean's eyes widened in alarm, "Isabella!" John's mention of the hunt likely conjured an image of every nasty supernatural threat out there. "She's not safe, I have to..."
"Whoa, there, cowboy," John said, placing a firm hand on Dean's chest as he tried to rise. "She's safe. I promise. I wouldn't leave you unprotected."
Dean relaxed, but didn't settle, his posture radiating one thing. Explain.
"You remember the hitch you and Jenna had closing on the purchase of the house?" John asked with that secretive little smile that Sam hated.
Momentarily confused by the subject change, one of Dean's brows suddenly swept upward in surprise.
You?
John's smile stretched wider.
"Bobby, Joshua and I went through every inch of this place while you were on your honeymoon." John revealed. "Every point of entry has a salt line caulked beneath it, you've got protection symbols in every room under two coats of paint and there are hex bags at all four corners. Hell, you've even got a Devil's Trap carved into the ceiling in the foyer, on the off chance a demon did make it past a salt line. Joshua's work. He even prettied it up with some other carvings, for Jenna's benefit."
Amazed, Dean just blinked at him as he finished. Truly surprised Sam said, "Wow."
"Liv's?" Dean finally asked.
"Ah," John answered. "That was a little harder, did that one myself, a little at a time, when she was at work or in Millidge for the day. Isabella is as safe there as she is here. Miss Chloe's, too."
Now, Sam was intrigued. "How'd you manage that?" he asked.
"Told her the house wasn't up to code for home-based daycare but she qualified for a small government grant to have the upgrades done free of charge. Bobby and I brought Caleb in on that one." John shrugged then added, "She had to close the daycare for a week, but we got it done.
Dean was impressed, Sam could tell. He'd relaxed back against the pillows as John talked, secure in the knowledge that Isabella was safe. "I remember that," Dean said a little in awe, "Liv took the week off to watch Izzy B."
"'Course all of that was a cakewalk compared what I had to do to get into your brothers dorm," John said, turning a mock glare on his youngest.
Shocked, Sam actually gaped. It hadn't occurred to him that John would do the same for him.
"I was never so glad as when you finally moved off campus, kid," John said, enjoying Sam's rare speechlessness.
"Dad," he finally said, "I don't know what to say..." but he really felt like he should say something.
"Don't say anything," John said seriously, looking at both of them in turn. "It's my job. You think I'd be able to do what I do everyday and sleep at night knowing you were unprotected?"
When Sam and Dean just blinked at him with a who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-father look in their eyes John continued.
"That's rhetorical," he said before the silence could get awkward. "Let's not get too carried away with the...what did you used to call 'em?" John looked askance to Dean, before he seemed to remember the correct terminology, "Chick-flick moments."
Dean smiled, obviously remembering. "I'm down with that."
And Sam, well, he was down with anything that put a smile on his brother's face. "Me, too," he said.
John opened his mouth, but before he could respond, his stomach growled. Loudly.
Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the semi-sheepish expression on his father's face. At least it wasn't him this time.
"When's the last time you ate?" Dean asked.
It was obvious that John couldn't remember. "Come on," Dean said as he sat up, planting his bare feet on the floor. "Let's go eat Sam's leftovers"
Sam noticed that Dean was a lot steadier as he followed his father and brother downstairs to the kitchen.
They ate out of the Tupperware, passing the various containers around, sharing the grilled chicken, veggies and macaroni salad that Liv had sent home with his brother earlier. Dean didn't eat much himself, just picked a little here and there but he did manage to eat a slice of blueberry pie and drink some milk that he produced as well.
"I can't believe I'm saying it," Sam said as they each had their fill, "but I think I actually missed this." It had been such a long time since they'd all been together.
John looked truly surprised, but a pleased smile tugged at his lips. "Wasn't all bad was it, Sammy?"
"No." Asked in another tone, it may have rankled. But for once, Sam could only agree. It hadn't all been bad.
"Of course, the food was never this good," Sam said around a mouthful of pie. Too many times they staggered back to whatever temporary home they'd rented in the darkest hours of the morning, if not bruised and bleeding, then covered in the guts and goo of whatever supernatural creature they'd sent back to the underworld. More often than not, it was stale pizza and Doritos, or cold Chinese that made up their late night fare.
"Hey, you remember that time..."
It was inevitable that things turned nostalgic. While Sam did his best not to define memories based on a particular hunt, he soon discovered that for his brother (and father) it was simply how they catalogued most of theirs. Sam's reminder of the month they spent in Santa Cruz earned him a blank stare from Dean, until John subtly mentioned the water sprite that originally drew them there.
Dean listened for the most part, watching them quietly, content to be at the fringe of the discussion. Sam was careful to include him in the conversation and made frequent eye contact. He noticed John did the same. Dean laughed and smiled in all the right places, but every so often, his eyes lowered and a small crease appeared between his brows.
John and Sam shared a concerned glance and mutually tabled the walk down memory lane. Sam had hoped the discussion would spark more memories, not leave his brother looking lost and vulnerable again. Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
"Why don't you get some more sleep," Sam suggested.
Dean was already shaking his head before he finished. "Nah, might as well stay up. I've gotta get ready for work in a couple of hours anyway."
John and Sam shared another glance.
"Its 4:30 Dean." His father stood, encouraging Dean to do the same. "Get a couple more hours of rest." While he phrased it as a suggestion, John's tone of voice was more that's an order as he steered Dean toward the sofa.
Reticent, but too exhausted to argue, Dean sat down heavily. John's hand on his shoulder guided him the rest of the way, until he was lying on his back. Sam leaned in casually, resting his arms on the back of the chair at the end of the sofa by Dean's feet. John seated himself on the edge of the coffee table, next to his brother. Dean blinked slowly, his gaze travelling back and forth between them as he tried to stay awake.
"Sleep," John ordered. He ran his hand through Dean's sun-kissed spikes before gently sliding his hand down over Dean's eyes. "We'll be here when you wake up." Dean was out in less than a minute.
John removed his hand and just watched Dean sleep before finally looking over at Sam who found himself bristling before his father even opened his mouth.
"He's overwhelmed," John said. As if Sam didn't know that.
His glare must have conveyed that thought.
"Look," John said, surprisingly reasonable. "Just don't push him. Whatever happens, you've got to let it be on his terms."
Sam counted to ten. Tried to translate his glare of death to what is wrong with you?
"Do you honestly think I would push him into anything?" Sam asked. It was meant to be rhetorical.
John just looked at him meaningfully. Yes.
The glare returned full force.
"It's what you do, Sam. You push. You always have. Especially where Dean is concerned.
Sam straightened from his slouch over the chair, rounding it.
"And you'd know about that wouldn't you, Dad?" Sam asked heatedly. "Where do you of all people..."
Dean shifted restlessly, the beginning of a pout threatening sleep-smooth features.
Sam and John glared at each other accusingly. Sam let it drop. Though it was nothing new, the last thing Dean needed was for his father and brother to be at odds with each other.
"I'm going to make some coffee," Sam said with a little less heat, turning away from his father.
Around six-thirty, Sam was just beginning to doze in the recliner when Dean's cell went off. It startled Dean from his slumber, but he was immediately reaching for the phone in his pocket. Sam recognized Liv's ringtone.
"Hello," Dean's voice was fuzzy with sleep, the heel of his free hand coming to rest on his temple.
John hovered in the entryway to the kitchen, a cup of fresh coffee in his hands.
"Better," Dean responded to Liv. "No, no, I'll be there. Really, everything's fine..."
Dean listened quietly to Liv, his voice soft and quiet as he responded to her concern. "I know. Yeah..." He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with what she was saying.
Sam got up and made his way to the kitchen, giving his brother the illusion of privacy. John got the hint and followed him, though they could still hear the one sided conversation. Whatever Liv was saying, she made a point of keeping it short and sweet because the tone of Dean's voice changed and they both knew he was talking to Isabella.
"I missed you too, Darlin','" he said. Sam could hear the genuine smile in his voice as he talked to his daughter. "Yes, much better." A pause. "I know. Yes. Mmm, hmmm. Okay." A slight warning crept into his voice, "Izzy B." Silence, followed by a sigh. Sam wasn't sure what that was all about, but wasn't too worried by it when a surprised but tired laugh escaped his brother, then, "I love you too." Another pause, "Yes, Spooky too."
Sam saw John's smile stretch around the rim of his mug as he took a sip of his coffee.
"I'll see you at Miss Chloe's on my way to work, okay?" Dean assured Isabella, and then added with a chuckle, "Not if I see you first."
"Hey," Dean was obviously talking to Liv again. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks. See you soon."
Dean was sitting up when Sam and John entered, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, cradling his head.
"You sure you're up for going in today?" Sam asked
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired." Dean admitted. "Besides, I've got to finish reworking the transmission in the Chevelle. Jorem's picking her up tomorrow for a show next weekend."
"You, ah, think you might need a hand with that?" John asked, a little tentatively.
Both Dean and Sam gaped at him. Sam in shock, Dean with this wide-eyed look of complete devotion. "Yeah," he swallowed, "that'd be great."
Then reality set in and Dean frowned, looking uncertain.
John seemed to understand and get it before Sam did. He crouched down next to Dean. "It's okay. You're friends with Sam. Sam works for you. Sam's dad just happened to show up in town unannounced...and Sam's dad just happens to know a thing or two about cars," John said with a grin.
Dean cautiously returned it.
"It doesn't have to be anything more than that until you're ready. This is your gig. Sam and I will take our cues from you."
Dean relaxed a little at the reassurance.
Sam and John went back to the hotel to shower and change for work, leaving Dean to do the same. With time to spare, they headed to Smitty's diner for some breakfast, passing the Impala parked at Miss Chloe's on the way.
Dean was waiting for them when they arrived at the garage. He looked tired, but the early morning nap and hot shower had done him a world of good. He was refreshed and noticeably pleased at John's presence. Not that Sam felt old hat or anything, but he'd been working with Dean for a few months now. He could tell that having Dad there was a novelty that Dean was fully prepared to enjoy.
Rand opened one of the large bay doors and joined them. He eyed John, curious but friendly, as he approached. Sam figured Dean had given him a heads up that they'd have some additional help today. John, for his part, was downright cordial, shaking off his often aloof nature and chatting with Rand like he actually cared what the man thought of him. Dean watched the exchange with a small smile. That, in and of itself, was enough for Sam to stop staring and just go with it. It was going to be an interesting day.
"Dean, honey, are you..." Liv came out of the bay, stopping dead in her tracks. Everyone just sort of froze for a millisecond.
"Ah," Sam started, figuring introductions were a good place to start. "Hey, Liv."
Dean had moved around Rand and took a place next to Liv, canting his head ever so slightly so she could give him his customary morning peck on the cheek. It was so automatic that he didn't even think the two of them were aware of it at all anymore.
"This is John," Dean introduced quietly, adding, "Winchester. Sam's father. He's offered to help us out for a few days while he's in town."
Liv's quick, assessing gaze scanned John from head to toe, before cutting briefly to Sam. Smiling, she held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Liv said genuinely.
"I assure you," John said as he took Liv's hand and brought it to his lips, his voice a deep rumbling purr, "The pleasure is all mine."
Liv blinked, speechless, a pale blush blossoming on her face.
Oh, my God, Sam thought. His dad was not flirting with Liv. Sam met Dean's surprised and equally mortified gaze.
"I hear you've been taking good care of my boy here," John continued, holding Liv's gaze with quiet, but heartfelt sincerity, "I can't thank you enough for that."
And suddenly it made sense. John wasn't flirting. He was showing gratitude the only way he could.
Liv cleared her throat and took her hand back, flustered. Sam and Rand almost laughed out loud when Dean did a double take, eyes widening in disbelief at her reaction.
"Sam's become a member of the family, Mr. Winchester," Liv said, recovering nicely. "It was no hardship, I assure you."
"Please, call me John."
Okay, this was getting way too freaky.
"Liv?" Dean said, moving closer to her, almost protectively. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Rand followed them back into the garage, turning to Sam as he did so. "Whenever, you're ready..."
"Yeah, be right there."
Sam just looked at John. He knew his father could be charming when he had to be. It just didn't happen very often. And to see such a genuine display?
"What?" John asked defensive.
"Nothin'," Sam said, because really, what could he say?
Whatever Dean said to Liv, she seemed perfectly fine with the extra hand as she disappeared up the stairs to the office. John and Dean spent most of the day with their heads together, rebuilding the transmission for Jorem's Chevelle.
Every so often, Sam would feel Dean's gaze. He'd look up, catch his eye and they'd share a smile. It took longer than it probably should have, but eventually Sam noticed that Rand was keeping a close eye on his brother as well, his gaze alternating between curious and concerned. It wasn't until Sam considered the situation from an outside point of view that he began to pay closer attention.
Dean and John didn't give the impression they'd met just a few hours ago. While their interaction was purposely low key, they were entirely too comfortable in each other's spaces, conveyed too much in the looks that passed between them. Sam made a point of keeping Rand busy and distracted for the remainder of the day, but there wasn't much he could do about Liv. Several times, he spied her watching his brother from the upstairs office window.
Dean ordered pizza for lunch and they ate upstairs with Liv where it was cooler. Conversation was deliberately work-related and filled with light, cordial banter. Liv joined in the discussion often, and while Sam got the impression that his father was mildly impressed with her general knowledge of auto mechanics, Sam clearly recognized the look in her eyes as she subtly watched them interact. It was only a matter of time before she started asking questions.
By the time 5:00 pm rolled around, the lack of sleep the night before was tugging at all of the Winchesters. John and Sam kept Rand company as he waited for Tess to pick him up while Liv took the opportunity to pull Dean aside, her hand on the side of his face as she talked privately to him. She was worried about him, that much was obvious. Sam could tell that it weighed heavily on Dean that he couldn't yet reassure her. Not until he knew exactly what spin, if any, he was going to put on the whole situation.
Eventually, Liv went on her way with a wave in their direction, just as Tess arrived.
"Everything okay?" Sam asked once they were alone.
"Yeah," Dean answered, then added reluctantly, "she wants me to see a neurologist."
John nodded thoughtfully. "That's probably not a bad idea, kiddo."
Dean didn't disagree, but he certainly didn't look happy about it either. As a matter of fact, he looked dead on his feet, despite the fact that out of the three of them, he'd gotten the most sleep last night.
"Go home, son," John ordered when Dean seemed reluctant to leave. "Get some rest. You're exhausted. Sam and I will be fine. We're not going anywhere, I promise."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We'll meet you right back here tomorrow, dude. Get a good night's sleep."
Sam suspected Dean felt bad about not being able to offer them a bed at his place, but they all knew that it would be too confusing and disruptive for Isabella. Not to mention what it would say to Liv.
Much to Sam's surprise, John stayed in town for the entire week. There were a few clandestine calls and a heated exchange with someone whom Sam assumed was Caleb, but other than that, his father seemed content to stick around. He knew that it wouldn't last, but it was more than he'd hoped for.
Dean had them over for dinner after work a couple of different nights and they'd stayed long into the evening after Isabella had been tucked in. Sam knew his brother well enough to know that he felt a little guilty about excluding Liv, but he was also fairly certain that Dean was already working out the details of what he was going to reveal to her.
Sam discovered pretty quickly that John's charm didn't just work on Liv. Apparently, it extended to Isabella as well. He was actually a little envious at how quickly the two of them hit it off. Isabella didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the 'sweetheart' that John bestowed upon her every chance he got. Less than two days and the man was completely wrapped around her finger.
One evening John offered to tuck Isabella in and Sam with his brother listened downstairs on the monitor as he read Isabella her bedtime story. She'd had her heart set on The Very Hungry Caterpillar but John swayed her to The Poky Little Puppy with one simple sentence.
"This was your daddy's favorite story when he was your age..."
The small smirk teasing the corners of his mouth disappeared as Sam caught a glance of the troubled expression that Dean wasn't quite quick enough to hide. He didn't remember.
"Hey," Sam said, drawing Dean's gaze. Its okay
Dean smiled sadly and turned the game back on.
-wWw-
John cut out of work early on Friday, bidding farewell to Rand and promising Liv he would be in attendance for dinner on Sunday. Unbeknown to Liv, Dean had arranged for John to pick Isabella up early from daycare so they could spend the afternoon together. In fact, Dean had surprised them both by adding Sam's and John's names to the list of people who were allowed to pick Isabella up from Miss Chloe's. It wasn't exactly a secret, but they kept it low key. If Liv got wind of it, there would definitely be some explaining to do.
It was quite possible that Dean questioned the wisdom of that decision when dinnertime rolled around. Sam was tossing together a salad to go with the chicken his brother had just grilled when John casually informed them that he and Isabella had already eaten. At McDonald's. Sam arched a brow, lips pursed as he turned away from the expression on Dean's face.
Sam had once, a few months back, offered to treat father and daughter to lunch only to have Dean politely but adamantly refuse the invitation. For all that the golden arches had been a staple for them growing up, Dean refused to defile Isabella's palate with such food. As far as Sam knew, Isabella had never experienced a Happy Meal. Until today.
Dean had frozen at the comment, jaw tight. John was completely oblivious to any wrongdoing as he helped himself to a beer and disappeared into the living room with Isabella. Sam watched the brief struggle play out on his brother's face. There was nothing he could do about it now and it was the one and possibly the only time John would spend the afternoon with his granddaughter. He let it go but for the very justified glare in his father's direction later that evening when Isabella's bedtime was marred by a tummy ache.
-wWw-
Saturday brought a family day that would forever bring forth warm memories and laughter. With a cooler full of food and an Impala full of Winchesters, they headed east for the hour long drive it would take to reach the ocean. Liv had been invited but was already committed to a church event for the day so there was no need for anyone to watch what they said. Isabella was smart as a whip for her age, but she was just too young to really pick up on or understand the subtext of what was happening between the adults. The relief Sam felt almost made him feel guilty. He knew how important Liv was to Dean.
The beach was crowded with sunbathers and surfers as they entered the public access area. Yet for those willing to walk the distance, there were more secluded spots along the mile and a half stretch of beach. They trudged through the sand with Isabella perched high on Sam's shoulders. Dean seemed to have a specific destination in mind. Sam followed him, trying not to picture his brother here in another time...with someone else.
As they set up the sun umbrella that Dean swore was to protect Isabella's fair skin, Sam realized why Dean had chosen this particular spot. While the tide was still relatively high, it was beginning to recede, revealing a small sandbar not too far from shore. Eventually it would leave a small pool of shallow water for Isabella to safely play in.
They spent the day collecting sea shells, building sand castles, and racing in and out of the surf. It turned out that wave-hopping was Isabella's absolute favorite thing to do. She could do it for hours. Literally. They all took turns distracting her with other things, but she always came back to the waves – and of course, it was more fun with company. By lunchtime, she wasn't the only one who was tuckered out.
They ate in the shade of the umbrella, Dean relaxing back against the cooler, Isabella in his lap as she finished her sandwich. He covered her with more sunscreen, but didn't seem all that surprised when she just leaned back against him, tired. It was a quiet, tranquil moment with the warmth of the sun around them, the sound of the waves rhythmic and peaceful. Isabella eventually gave into the lure of sleep and turned in Dean's arms, sprawling across his chest.
Dean supported her weight with his left arm, resting one hand on her back, thumb gently stroking the skin between her shoulder blades. Eventually, Sam and John realized that Dean was someplace else, his eyes distant and lost as he gazed over Isabella's shoulder. They shared a glance, but let him be.
When he did come back to them, Dean's sharp gaze cut to John, a subtle fragility lurking beneath the surface. Sam automatically leaned closer, offering support. John shifted at the scrutiny but held his son's gaze. Waiting.
"You set this up, didn't you?" Dean's voice was quietly intense, low in deference to Isabella. "This life...me..." Dean swallowed, "Jenna. You set it all in motion."
John sighed. Sam could tell he hadn't wanted to go there.
"Let's get something straight," he said. Sam tensed at the words, despite the gentle tone in which they were delivered. "You. Jenna. What you had between you. That love. That was real."
Dean's eyes watered.
"That is what set this in motion," John said, then with no hint of apology, added, "all I did was make it a reality."
Dean didn't seem to know how to respond to the sentiment or the tone.
"Jenna offered you the home I always wanted for you. She was smart, beautiful, and feisty enough not to put up with any of your crap," John said with a dimpled grin and a heartfelt attempt to lighten the mood.
Dean smiled through watery eyes, voice thick with tears and surprise. "You liked her." It was obvious how much that meant to him.
"Yeah," John agreed quietly, holding his son's gaze, "I did."
Dean sniffed surreptitiously, looking away, unconsciously pulling Isabella closer. When John glanced his way, Sam did his best to look supportive and show how much he approved of how his father was handling the situation.
"I can't help but wonder," Dean said a few minutes later, "if she had known..." about the hunting, "if that would have changed...how she felt."
Sam could tell that it hurt his brother just to think about it.
"She knew," John said, clarifying when Dean's eyes flew to his. "Not specifically, but she knew. She'd catalogued every scar on your body before you came out of the coma, talked with me enough to get some sense of our lifestyle." John paused, "She thought you deserved more." Another pause, this one longer, John making sure he had Dean's attention. "So did I."
Dean gave a small nod, more to himself, having gotten whatever information or confirmation he'd been looking for from his father.
"Dean," John continued, "It was never about not wanting you with me...you know that...right?" Please, God, tell me you know that. And Sam saw it, that look on his father's face, the look that made him wonder how he could've ever questioned this man's love for him or his brother.
Eyes still bright, Dean nodded, but it was a little uncertain, his expression a little too serious. Like just maybe there'd been a part of him that entertained the notion, if only briefly, and could now let it go. His smile was wobbly but genuine.
"It doesn't matter," Dean said, "I mean, yeah, it does, but..." He glanced at John gratefully, his hand going to the back of Isabella's head as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Whatever your reasons...I can't thank you enough."
Sam thought John actually looked a little stunned at that. Dean didn't seem to notice. He held Isabella close to him like the treasure she was, the line of his jaw resting atop golden tresses that danced in the ocean breeze.
-wWw-
Sunday morning, John shocked them all when he showed up just in time for the morning worship service. Defensive, he glared at the look of surprise he saw on his son's faces. Ignoring them, he sat next to Liv and Isabella.
Later that evening, Sam helped Liv in the kitchen while Dean and John watched the game in the other room. Spooky was intermittently underfoot as Isabella paraded back and forth between rooms, keeping tabs on everyone. Sam had expected an interrogation of sorts once they were alone, but Liv surprised him. He'd noticed that, while she continued to watch them and sensed that something was amiss, she'd backed off a little. Sam could only surmise that she was trusting Dean to come to her when he was ready. Sam started to let his guard down in her presence again.
During dinner John informed them that he'd be returning to work and had to head out later that evening. Dean was the only one who didn't look surprised, and Sam was glad for that. John must have told him privately. Everyone looked disappointed, and Sam was surprised to find that he was too. For the first time in a very long time, they'd felt like an honest to God normal family.
Liv plied them all with leftovers as they left. While Sam and Dean were both good about returning their containers each week, it seemed Liv had an endless supply of Tupperware. She told John not to worry about returning his and kissed him on the cheek as he left.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, John," she said sincerely as they parted. "You're welcome to join us anytime you're near enough for a visit."
"Thanks." John's smile was genuine and grateful, "I'll do my best to take you up on that."
"I'll keep my eye on this one for you," Liv said with a playful glance at Sam, her words slightly territorial as if reminding John that Sam was his and Dean was hers, "keep him out of trouble."
John's smile deepened as he glanced at his boys. "Good luck with that."
Sam and Dean looked at each other, brows raised, as Liv and John shared a chuckle at their expense. Sam followed his father out the door, pausing for peck from Liv. "See you tomorrow, Sam."
"'Night," he said, looking back at his brother and Isabella as he left.
When they got back to the motel, Sam helped John pack his things and carry everything out to the truck.
"Where you headed?" he asked.
John eyed him as he climbed into the truck, resting his arm on the open window. "Tucson"
"You got a line on something?" The last thing he wanted to do was talk about hunting, but it seemed it was one of the only things he had in common with his father these days.
"As a matter of fact..." John left it hanging, sighed in exasperation when Sam continued to look at him expectantly. "You can't have it both ways, Sam. If you're not gonna help me out, you're better off not knowing. You've got a life here, you and your brother. Just...be happy. Enjoy it."
The sincere words touched him and put the beginnings of a lump formed in his throat. "I will," Sam said. "Be safe, dad."
John gave him a rueful smile. "That's always the plan."
Yeah, and Sam knew how those plans usually turned out. "Try harder," he said, softening the words with a crooked smile.
John reached out, placed a hand on the side of Sam's face, touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'm proud of you, son."
Sam looked at him, surprised.
"You've always known what you wanted and you went after it." John continued. "Hell, it got us your brother back. Guess I can't bitch about what a stubborn ass you are with a pay off like that."
Whoa, kettle. Have you met pot?
"Keep in touch," Sam said.
Sam had the good grace to be sheepish at the look John gave him at that.
"Take care of them, Sam," John said as he began backing out the truck.
He planned to. Dean. Isabella. Liv. They were his family, his responsibility. He'd do whatever he had to, to protect them. "Yes, sir."
Sam watched John's truck disappear, knowing that part of the reason John was so affable upon his departure was because he assumed that whatever non-brotherly feelings existed between his sons was now a non-issue. It was obvious that Dean didn't remember everything. They'd yet to sit down and really discuss it, but there were definitely gaps in his brother's memory. John was apparently comfortable in this being one of them.
Indeed, Sam had not seen one shred of evidence to the contrary. Not once had Dean given him any indication that he loved Sam in any other way than that of a brother. Sam couldn't deny his disappointment, but he'd meant what he said. It was enough just to have Dean back in his life - in any capacity. He'd come to terms with the rest. He had to.
Once he was sure Isabella would be in bed, Sam made his way to Dean's house. It was just after 9:00 and all the lights were out save for Isabella's little pink nightlight. The crescent moon gave just enough light for Sam to make out Dean's silhouette on the roof.
"Hey," he said, looking up at his brother. Dean sat with his legs bent, forearms resting on his knees, beer in one hand.
"Grab a beer," he said, "come on up."
Sam grabbed a couple and climbed out the window, joining Dean on the eave. He couldn't help but think back to when he'd first arrived in town and had sat in his car on the street, longing to be with his brother.
"Dad stop by?" he asked.
"Yeah," Dean said.
Sam hesitated, "You okay?"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean purse his lips, thinking about the question before he took another swig of his beer.
"It's weird, you know," Dean said. "Being left behind. I thought it would bother me more than it did."
Sam did too.
"I mean the hunt part." Dean clarified. "I hated to see dad leave, but I just...I don't feel that itch to move on like I used to."
One of the first things Sam had noted in his brother as they got to know each other again was that Dean was basically still Dean. Much of his personality had remained the same, albeit toned down a bit, despite the memory loss. Yet he was content in a way that Sam had never witnessed before, had never really thought possible. Gone was the restlessness and recklessness that had always simmered just beneath the surface.
"Anyway," Dean said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts, but not looking at him. "What about you? Where you headed?"
Sam looked at him in shock, absently noting how guarded his brother was. "What do you mean?"
"It's not working out for you," Dean reminded him of his words that day at the park. "Time to move on. Ring any bells?"
Sam hadn't forgotten, but so much had changed, the reason behind his decision was no longer an issue.
"Dean," Sam geared up to explain that the only reason he was going to leave was that he was causing Dean pain and that he couldn't continue to do that. Whatever the reasoning, it just didn't matter anymore. He didn't want to waste time on explanations. Just wanted his brother to know where he stood now. "I'm not going anywhere."
At Sam's firm but gentle promise, Dean finally met his gaze, searching. Whatever he saw put him at ease. Dean relaxed back against the roof and Sam went with him, their legs bent at the knees as they gazed up at the star splashed sky.
Sam couldn't help but think of Jenna. Could hear in his head the haunting lullaby that would always remind him of her.
I see the moon,
the moon sees me.
Down through the leaves
of the old oak Tree.
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the ones I love...
Sam knew that Jenna would forever hold a special place in Dean's heart. It had taken some time, but Sam realized he was okay with that. His brother had a big heart. There was room enough for both of them.
And besides, Isabella owned it all lock, stock and barrel. There was no disputing that.
"Why're you here, Sam?" Dean asked. The question seemed almost flippant. The distinctly vague way in which it was asked alerting Sam to the importance of both the question and his response.
Because you're my brother. Because I love you. Because I can't imagine my life without you. Because, really, where else would I be?
Sam tried to encompass it all in one simple statement, let every bit of the love he felt infuse the words. "Because there's no place else I'd rather be."
Everything Sam had done since turning up in Dean's life had been geared towards showing his brother exactly how much he loved him. Dean would either see it for what it was or, Sam dared hope, see it for what it could be.
Dean didn't say anything. Not for a long time. The words lingered between them. Sam took a deep breath, clinging to the tiny spark of hope he refused to let go. Told himself it was okay either way. He had his brother back. That's what mattered. And he believed it. He did. He just...
Sam was so distracted by his internal pep talk that it caught him completely off guard when Dean's hand slipped into his. The unusual display of affection rendered him speechless. He turned to look at his brother who resolutely and steadfastly ignored him. Cautiously, Sam turned his hand and laced their fingers together giving an experimental squeeze. If he hadn't been looking at Dean when he did it he'd have missed the subtle twitch of his brother's lips. Realization belatedly dawned. That sonova…
A huge, goofy grin spread slowly across Sam's face as he continued to gaze at his stone-faced brother.
"You friggin' jerk," his voice low but undeniably affectionate.
Sam slowly turned his gaze back to the stars, but couldn't manage to tone down the grin. It had a life of its own.
"Shaaaadup," Dean drawled self-consciously. And...wait for it... "Bitch."
If possible, Sam's smile grew wider.
Yeah, everything was going to be just fine.
To Be Concluded...epilogue posted tomorrow :)
A/N: THIS is the chapter I struggled with the most. I had issues along the way with others, but this one, man, it gave me a wicked hard time! I think I was worried I wouldn't be able to tie everything up the way I wanted. Overall, I'm happy with how it turned out though. Also wanted to note that the Trigger for Dean's memory was seeing John and Sam, his family, together. It wasn't just John's presence. I tried to make that clear without actually spelling it right out. The epilogue will give you a glimpse into their relationship 2 yrs from where this ends. While the slash has been discrete so far, it will be a little less so in the epi. Nothing graphic I promise, remember the rating, but this is a m/m relationship and the boys do show their affection for one another. Thank you all for reading! This has been a wonderful ride for me :)
-shan