Chapter 4
Sam studied the Impala's dash, carefully shielding his thoughts from his brother. This was all too much happening too fast. He needed a little time away from big brother to think things through.
"Dean, why don't you drop me off at that store near the motel? We need a few things and I can walk back." His eyes slid over to watch that stubborn brother of his. Sure enough, Dean frowned.
"Walk back? I can wait in the parking lot, Sammy." Dean shot him a couple of anxious glances.
"I could use the exercise," Sam argued, trying not to sound like he just needed to be by himself. "It's not that far, Dean. And I have my cell."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, looking typically worried. "Well, I could go gas up while you're inside. You'll call if you want me to pick you up?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "You know I will, Dean."
His brother let out several heavy sighs before dropping him off at the grocery store. Relieved, Sam walked inside to search for bottled water and a few things for their first aide kit. Finally he had a few moments alone with his own thoughts, unencumbered by Dean's thoughts or emotions.
He could hear the thoughts of the other shoppers, but they were whispers compared with Dean. Dean's thoughts came through like shouting into a megaphone. Sometimes it was all Sam could do not to listen in on his brother's private thoughts, and Dean worrying excessively since the showdown with Mike certainly did not help. God, before the telepathy started he only thought his brother worried. Now he knew exactly how much, how often, and about what. Mostly, Dean worried about him. That should not have been a surprise, but the amount of worry and the intensity of it were.
Another bonus to being out in public by himself was the fact all of his emotions were now his own. Sam had the opportunity here to examine his thoughts and feelings without his brother's bleeding through and influencing him. Before he realized that he could actually experience Dean's emotions Sam had been well aware of them. Dean might not like acting touchy-feely or discussing those dreaded emotions, but Sam had always been pretty adept at reading his brother's moods and capitalizing on them to his advantage. When he was little, he would wait until Dean was in a particularly good mood to ask about playing at a new friend's house or to go to some kind of gathering like a birthday party. He always avoided asking for anything when Dean was in a bad mood, not because he was afraid of not getting his way, but because Dean always seemed more down afterwards. Days where Dad actually said something to Dean that was as close to praise as Dad ever got were the best. Dean would let him to do nearly anything on those days.
As Sam looked over the microwavable noodles in a cup, he turned their current situation over in his mind. When his abilities started to develop, it certainly freaked him out. He was pretty sure it freaked Dean out, too, not that his stubborn brother would ever admit to anything like that. Now that he thought about it, Sam was really grateful that he could not sense his brother's emotions back then. That might have been disastrous – for both of them. For the world. Sam shook his head, no sense in being melodramatic just because he was alone.
Comparing prices on bottled water, Sam selected three cases and added them to his cart. Now that Dean had abilities, archangel abilities, Sam felt pretty freaked out. He had a greater appreciation for his brother during that time when Dean had to pretend nothing bothered him, that everything was fine. Sam faced the same challenge now, and found it daunting. He stopped in the middle of the grocery isle, rubbing at his temple. A headache was building there. That reminded him, they were low on aspirin. He headed toward the pharmacy department.
How could he pretend none of this bothered him, that it was fine? It was not fine. It was anything but fine. Dean could be extremely dangerous – when he wanted to be. Most of the time, Dean was just a carefree kind of guy who liked to hustle pool and pick up women. Sam accepted that and, over the past few years, had even come to like that part of his brother. Now he felt like Dean was dangerous all of the time. His brother had abilities, powers, that they did not understand and Dean might not even be able to control. That fight in the bar, it was no laughing matter. He had felt Dean's indecision when the guy reached for Dean's shoulder, he heard Dean's whirlwind thoughts about death and destruction. Then, suddenly, it all stopped. Dean faced the guy down. Personally, Sam did not blame the guy for backing down. The way Dean looked at that moment, it was frightening. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of Dean's face. Sam tried to imagine Mike with that expression and his blood ran cold. Yeah, those guys had to back down. No choice, really.
He grabbed several packages of jerky as he headed toward the checkout. What about this new problem of Dean not being able to lie? Sam didn't particularly like lying, even though he was very good at it. Dean could barely breathe without lying. He doubted his brother could even fill out a phony credit card form anymore. Now what? Jobs? Sam snorted as he handed over a credit card at the checkout. Okay, so now Sam had to be responsible for telling all the lies and procuring all the bogus credit cards. He figured he could handle that. But could Dean?
As he pushed his cart outside, Sam realized that there was no way he was walking all the way to their motel with a full grocery cart. He pulled out his cell to call his brother when he noticed a black car pull up in front of him. Dean jumped out and helped Sam load everything into the backseat.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam passed a case of water to his brother. "What are you doing here?"
"Were you seriously planning to carry all this crap half a mile?" Dean asked, sounding rather amused.
Sam paused as he reached in the cart for another case. "Well, I really wasn't thinking about that."
"Yeah, I know." Dean reached in, taking the case.
"Wait a minute," Sam grabbed his brother's arm as Dean turned around. "What do you mean – you know?"
Dean shrugged, pulling out of Sam's grasp.
"Dean?" Sam felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. "You could you, uh, hear my thoughts in there?"
Dean's head shook, but his brother did not look him in the eye. "Nah. I just kinda…" He reached for the containers of instant noodles. "Man, I hate these things."
"I got jerky for you." Sam held up one of the plastic bags. Dean replied with a short nod as he tossed the rest of Sam's purchases in the backseat. Sam slid into the passenger seat and waited for Dean to jog around the front of the car. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Sam focused on his brother. "You just kinda what?"
"Huh?" Dean did not look at him, appearing to concentrate on traffic instead. Not that there was much traffic to distract him.
"I was about to call you, and you act like you knew it." Sam glared at his brother. Dean shrugged. "How, Dean?" He waited. Dean parked near their motel room. Without a word, his brother started carrying his purchases into the room.
With a huff, Sam followed, carrying the rest of the water with a bag dangling from one hand. Kicking the door closed, Sam crossed to the sole table in the room. He slammed the last case of water on it. "Dean!"
"Geez! What, Sammy?" Dean spun, looking a bit spooked.
"How did you know to come pick me up?" Sam demanded, intentionally blocking Dean's path.
Dean shrugged again, looking away. Big brother could only tell the truth now, huh? But he bet that was only when Dean actually said something. "Could you hear what I was thinking in the store? I know you can hear some of my thoughts now."
Dean flinched at that, but he shook his head.
"You could tell somehow that I was getting ready to call you?" Sam tried again. If Dean refused to just tell him, maybe Sam could guess the answer.
Dean sighed, shaking his head.
"Then what, Dean? What!" Exasperated, Sam flapped his arms at his brother. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he looked like a gigantic flightless bird.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, peeking out of the corner of one eye. "You called me," he said softly.
Sam shook his head. "I was getting ready to call you, Dean. I hadn't even picked your number in my cell yet."
Dean shook his head. "You called me," he insisted. When Sam opened his mouth to protest again, Dean shrugged. "I could feel it."
Sam's eyes widened. "But I didn't even decide to call you until I was outside."
Dean shrugged again. "Please don't ask me to explain it, Sammy." With a start, Sam recognized that tone in his brother's voice. Dean was really asking, practically begging Sam to drop it. Then he felt it, the underlying panic Dean felt coupled with fearful phrases like 'I don't know, I just don't know' and 'what the hell is happening to us?'
Sam sighed, pushing down his own panic that threatened to rise up. "Okay, Dean. No problem." He picked up the plastic bag with Dean's jerky and tossed it to him.
Dean pulled out a plastic bag filled with dried meat and shot Sam a grin. Sam knew it wasn't really for the treat, but he smiled back anyway. Dean threw himself back on one of the beds, bouncing. Sam rolled his eyes, ripping open one of the cases of water. He tossed Dean a water bottle and took one for himself.
"Anything on?" he asked, motioning to the television.
Dean picked up the remote off the nightstand and tossed it to his brother. When Sam did not reach out to catch it, it hovered near his head. Sam rolled his eyes, plucking it out of the air.
"What do you feel like?" Sam asked, turning on the set. "Action, comedy, or action?"
Dean shrugged, stuffing some jerky in his mouth. "Whatever."
He watched Sam flip through the channels until something with Mel Gibson appeared on the screen. "Here," Sam said, "this might be both. Or is that all three?"
Dean chuckled. "Probably all three." He tossed a chunk of jerky in the air, catching it in his mouth. At least that was something he did not need stupid powers for. Right? Dean glared at the jerky still in his bag. He ripped off a small chunk and stared at it a moment. It arced beautifully in the air as Dean returned his attention to the television screen, Mel Gibson just blew something up. He felt it bounce off his shirt before landing on his stomach. Relieved, Dean picked it up and tossed it up again, catching it in his open mouth.
Sam sighed. "Maybe I should have bought the candy instead."
Dean laughed. "You should have bought beer."
Sam cut his eyes at Dean. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Dean frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He had a feeling he was not going to like Sam's explanation.
"Well, Dean, since you…uh," Sam made a sweeping gesture that took in Dean's entire body, "you haven't had any alcohol. I didn't know if it would be a good idea." Sam shrugged, returning attention back to the movie.
Dean scowled. With a little concentration, he managed to shut the television off without the remote. "You didn't think it would be a good idea?" Dean demanded, sitting up.
Sam picked up the remote, pointed it at the television. The movie came back on. Dean shut it off again. Sam frowned at the remote, using it to turn on the movie again, which Dean promptly shut off. Sam glared at him.
"Are you doing that?" Sam motioned to the television with the remote.
"I want to know why you don't think beer would be a good idea," Dean insisted, ignoring the question.
Sam groaned, pushing up to a sitting position. He looked Dean right in the eye, which just confirmed the fact Dean would not like this. Dean gritted his teeth, waiting anxiously for Sam's logical, and annoying, argument.
"You're still learning to control these new abilities. I didn't think buying alcohol, which would impair your judgment, was a great idea."
"Why?" Dean demanded, feeling his anger rising. "Afraid I'd blow out a wall or something?"
Dean felt a twinge that he usually associated with guilt. Mentally he followed it and saw a thin string of light connecting that twinge of guilt with his brother. Clearly that was exactly what Sam feared. As he concentrated on that string of light, Dean began to see other strings, not as bright but just as real. They intersected throughout the room, criss-crossing everywhere as the actions of strangers impacted and influenced other people. Amazed, Dean followed the light strings with his eyes and his mind, tracing some back to other guests in the motel and their problems. Walls separating him from the guests seemed to disappear as he watched, their voices reaching him though he did not try to listen.
"Dean!"
A couple argued over her parents, whether or not they were too controlling. Another couple fussed over a crying baby, who was in pain because of a gas bubble in his stomach. A man paced his room, waiting for his wife to call him back, she should have been home an hour ago.
"Dean!" Hands shook him. Dean blinked and his views into the other rooms disappeared, replaced by boring off-white walls. The thin strings of light faded, replaced by his brother's worried face. "Dean?"
Dean blinked hard again, concentrating on Sam. Worry poured off his brother in shimmering blue waves. Dean shook his head, trying to clear it of voices and emotions.
"You know, maybe alcohol isn't such a good idea for right now," he admitted, glancing sheepishly up at Sam as he leaned back on the bed. The television flickered to life and Dean pointed to the screen. "Look, this is a good part."
Standing, Dean headed for the door. "Relax, Sam." He waved his brother back without looking. "I just need a little air." Without waiting for his brother's protest, Dean slipped outside pulling the door closed behind him. He headed for a room just on the other side of the motel. As he approached the door, he could hear the wails of an angry, upset baby. He knocked.
A haggard looking man opened the door. "Look, I'm really sorry. We're doing everything we can."
"Is he sick?" Dean asked, subtly pushing the door open a little wider.
The woman, leaning over the portable crib where she rubbed the infant's back, said in a desperate, tear-filled voice, "Maybe he is sick. I just don't know!"
Dean smiled encouragingly. "Your first, right? Can I see him? Do you mind?" He took a tentative step into the room, trying to radiate confidence.
"Sure." The man stepped aside. "Let the gentleman have a look at Cody, honey."
She gave him a weak smile as he approached. Dean grinned at her, reaching for the baby. "Oh, poor kid." He sat the baby upright supporting his head with a firm hand just under the chin, and the spot between the infant's shoulder blades glowed. He rubbed that spot in circles until the child let out a huge belch followed almost immediately followed by a spurt of white chunky substance that made Dean want to gag. The baby quit fussing immediately and his eyes grew heavy. By the time Dean laid the child down in a clean area of the crib, he was sound asleep.
"Looks like it was just a little gas," he explained, trying hard not to gag. "I better go, my brother will be wondering where I wandered off." He shot them a grin as he made his way out, hoping they would relax some, too.