Oh yes, I'm on an oddball roll!! Thanks again to everyone following this and those of you kind enough to leave a review. (Those just egg me on, you know!)
Chapter Sixteen
Dean rested a hand on Sam's shoulder, pulling his brother away from their research. Sam turned bloodshot eyes toward him. "Come on, let's grab some lunch."
"Why?" Sam asked, his voice too soft, too insecure. "Another job?"
"Just my big one," Dean replied. When Sam's brow furrowed he added, "Looking after you. Come on, you look like you're about to pass out. We need to eat." He tried pulling Sam up, but his brother shook off his hands.
"Fine, fine. I'm coming," Sam snarled, gathering all the pages he either copied or printed. Dean waited impatiently while Sam threw nasty glares his direction. Well, at least his brother acted more normal right now than he did earlier. Hands full of papers and that damned legal pad, Sam followed him out to the car.
As they passed the tree Dean noticed one branch had withered, all the leaves brown and drying. On impulse, he touched it. The dry leaves became supple under his fingers and he imagined he saw that same healing light tracing the branch and leaves. In moments green crept into the leaves. When it looked healthy again, Dean released it.
"That is too cool," Sam breathed into his ear.
Dean shrugged it off. "So what do you feel like? I'm starving." He headed for the driver's side door of his car. "Burgers? I think I saw a Mexican place on the way in, if you'd prefer that." He grinned at his brother. "Cerveza?"
"Funny, Dean." Sam shook his head, long hair bouncing around. "Burgers sound fine."
Dean shrugged, pulling the door open. He heard papers shuffling as Sam attempted to put all their research in order while he drove to their late lunch. Before he pulled the keys out of the ignition, Dean stole a glance at his brother. Sam looked a million miles away. Again. Ever since his brother read that stupid list he made, Sam had been too distracted. He needed some way to make his brother focus and stop worrying. Worrying was his job, not Sam's. Sam needed to figure out what was going on with this spirit.
"Got anything promising?" Dean asked, slipping the key out of the ignition.
Sam sighed, thrusting the entire mess at him. "Nope." Sam motioned with his empty hands. "Go ahead, your turn."
Dean shoved the papers under one arm as he got out of the car. "What's wrong, your list not working?" He heard the snark in his voice but he did not care, hoping it would jar Sam out of this mood.
Sam sighed heavily. "Apparently not."
Slightly disappointed, Dean shrugged as he led the way inside the burger joint. He picked a booth near the window, where he could keep an eye on his car. The waitress, another gum snapping lady with frizzy hair and huge earrings, approached their table. Dean ordered cheeseburgers for both of them, ignoring the subtle pull from the core of his being. Sam needed him more right now than anyone else with this mood Sam seemed to be in. Besides, he was tired of cold meals just because somebody nearby happened to be having a bad day.
Dean expected Mike to show up in the library, so when the restaurant door opened and dark curly hair appeared he was not surprised. Mike motioned to him to come outside, not joining them at the table like he usually did. Concerned, Dean caught Sam's eye.
"Dude, I'm going to step out front for a minute. You okay here?" he asked, trying not to look at Mike.
Sam, looking as depressed as he did right after Jessica, nodded while staring down at the table surface. "Go ahead, do your job. I'm fine."
Dean frowned. Sam was far from fine. He debated with himself on whether or not to leave Sam's side even for a couple of minutes. Mike waved frantically from the door.
He rested a hand on Sam's shoulder briefly. "I'll be right back. Make sure they get my burger right." Sam's head bobbed again, but his brother did not bother to look up.
Dean's anxiety ramped up at Sam's reaction, but he hurried out the door after Mike. "Make it quick," he snapped as he approached the legendary archangel.
Mike turned around, his eyes holding a low blue glow. "There's a problem. With Sam."
"What? This have anything to do with that whole seeing the light thing?" Dean asked, not bothering to pull back his glare.
"Kind of," Mike admitted. "Just how much do you know about your brother, Dean?"
Dean staggered back a step, but only one. He recovered quickly, his natural reactions taking over. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, not bothering to lower his voice. A low rumble came from the clear sky.
"Dean, you do know Sam was picked for the other side, right?" Mike asked, not beating around the bush for a change.
Dean forced his game face on, determined not to give away more than Mike might already know. "Yeah. So?"
"So? So do you know what Sam's role was supposed to be?" Mike asked as he began to pace. Dean shook his head, not trusting his voice at the moment. He watched the archangel in front of him, pulsing with energy. "Do you have any idea?"
Dean shrugged, not understanding the intensity of Mike's concern. "But I saved him. What does it matter what their plan was?"
Mike froze. His head rotated slowly to Dean. "Can't you see why Sam was chosen?"
Dean crossed both arms over his chest. "I thought this was about the replay thing in the car."
Mike stared at him a moment before running a hand over his forehead. "I really don't understand how Sam doesn't have a headache all the time." Mike ran both hands through that wild hair. "The replay thing was a concern, of course, but they're a little more excited by the tree."
"They're excited about some leaves?" Dean asked, amazed. Well, he guessed it did make sense that angels would be the ultimate tree huggers, but wasn't that taking things too far?
Mike leveled his eyes on Dean, locking their gazes, but Dean did not feel challenged this time. "Mike?"
"You reversed it," he said simply. "They want to know if you think you can do it to Sam."
"Do what?" Dean asked.
"Heal him, like you did with the tree," Mike said, sounding expectant.
Dean's brow furrowed in his confusion. "I thought I did."
Mike shook his head, wild curls bouncing around like he was in the middle of a storm. "Not the head thing!" The air crackled with electricity. "The other thing!" Mike's hand moved through the air, sending a blast of wind right into Dean's face.
Dean blew the dust he found in his nose out. "What. Other. Thing?"
Mike stepped closer, his glowing eyes warming with each step. Dean felt himself relax as Mike closed the space between them. A warm palm pressed against his brow. Dean closed his eyes, allowing Mike to do whatever he wanted, unable to even think of why he might want to stop it. When Mike broke the contact, moving away, Dean felt slightly disoriented.
Why did he come out here again? Where was Sam? He turned to look at the burger joint behind him. Sam sat by a window, still staring down at the empty table. Nothing moved.
"You don't know," Mike said, his hands trembling inches away from Dean's head. "You really don't know."
"Did you pause time again?" Dean asked, turning slowly away from the image of frozen Sam.
"Yes."
Still wrapped in that feeling of complete calm, Dean looked Mike in the eye. "You mind waiting until I'm back inside to start it up? So I won't be away from Sam for too long?"
"Do you know why you're so worried, Dean?" Mike asked gently.
Dean nodded, moving away. "Sam's in a bad mood. I haven't seen him like this since… In a long time."
"You know that dead branch on the tree?" Mike asked. "Sam did that. He didn't mean to, but he did it. And now he's wondering what he might do to you."
Dean scratched the back of his neck. "What about the others? Are they going to trust me to handle him?"
Mike's smile contained the brilliance of the sun on a bright morning. "I think I've convinced them to back off for a while."
"I don't suppose you'll tell me the name of that spirit now?" Dean asked, knowing it was wishful thinking.
Mike chuckled. "You know, Dean, I like you more every day."
Dean headed back to the restaurant, feeling the sensation of time picking up again. "Wish I could say that same," he mumbled. He had more important things to worry about, though.
Sam felt lower than, well, low. His head was too heavy to hold up and all he wanted to do was crawl back on that nasty old mattress and go to sleep. Forever. A strange tingle along his spine felt familiar somehow. As he tried to place it, Dean slipped back into the booth across from him.
"Done?" Sam asked, tracing the fake woodgrain with his thumbnail. He still did not know how he felt about this morale officer job of Dean's, but his brother seemed to be in a better mood lately. Maybe Sam shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but he just did not trust Mike. It was all Mike's fault anyway. That guy just couldn't stop needling Dean, pushing his brother to the limit. Sam should have put a stop to it long ago. If he had maybe things would never have escalated this far.
"Not really," Dean replied.
Sam dragged his eyes from the table to meet Dean's heavy gaze. His brother looked exactly as he did the morning after Jessica died. Damn. It must have been bad.
"What happened?" Sam asked, alarmed.
Dean stared hard at him. "Why don't you tell me? I'd rather hear it from you."
Okay, now that was weird. "I don't get it, Dean." Sam shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
Dean leaned forward on the table, his nose only inches away. Sam could still smell the toothpaste on Dean's breath. "Sam? The tree?"
Sam felt the nasty expression crawling slowly across his face. Oh yeah, he remembered that tingle now. "Mike was here, wasn't he? That wasn't a job."
"It was about my job. Now tell me what happened with the tree," Dean said in that tell-me-because-I'm-the-oldest-and-I-said-so voice.
"I'm not hungry," Sam announced, sliding to the end of the bench seat. Before he could get his feet out, Dean stood in his way, blocking his escape. "Move, Dean."
Dean crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Sam. One corner of his brother's mouth twitched twice. Sam knew what that meant; Dean intended to make some type of very public display unless Sam did what he wanted. Knowing his brother, it would be extremely embarrassing as well.
As he considered what it might take to push by Dean, his brother leaned over to whisper, "Don't even think about it." A strong finger pointed down at the table. "You're going to sit here, eat, and tell me what happened."
"In that order," Sam agreed, never fully intending on following through. It wouldn't be the first time he lied to his brother. He felt Dean's glare but did not look up. He was pretty sure Dean talked to Mike, but how could Mike know about the tree? They were obviously keeping closer tabs on Dean than Mike let on. He shifted back over to his original spot closer to the window.
Sam wondered if he could ever touch anything living again. Would all trees, plants and flowers wilt and die around him? Could he even bring himself to try it? Dean would have to find out about it eventually, he couldn't hide his plant-killing nature forever. Oh, god, what about Dean? Frightened, he looked up at his brother. What if his killing touch worked on Dean too?
Dean frowned at him. "Sammy, I think you need to relax a little. You seem pretty tense." Dean's hand reached out for him. Sam jumped backward, slamming in the back of the seat. The people on the other side grumbled a few things he did not quite catch, but at least Dean wasn't hurt. Or dying.
"Uh, Sam?" Dean's hand still hovered in the air, his eyes glowing more than they had in days. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Anger flared within Sam. Pure anger, the kind that would make Doc Ellicott proud, lifted its nasty head and set its sights on Dean. "Wrong with me? Why don't you get out your list and check for yourself?" Sam snapped, warming to the raging emotion. "Or give your buddy Mike a call, why don't you? Everybody's just talking about me behind my back aren't they?" Sam slid off the bench seat to stand staring down at Dean. His brother's jaw fell slightly open, slack, and the glow in his eyes really pissed Sam off right now. "That's what the thing in the park was about, wasn't it? Me!" He knew he was shouting now, but for some reason he either didn't care he was shouting or didn't care who heard, and he was way too far gone to worry about which one it was. Sam slammed both hands down on the table, gratified when it buckled under and fell to one side, the support beam underneath bent and the tabletop cracked.
Sam spun around, intending to march out past all the obvious pointing, whispers and stares. Instead he found frozen faces, people stopped in mid-movement. Sam ground his teeth together.
"And that guy thought he was having a bad day," Dean's voice carried well in the absolute silence.
Sam twisted his upper body to see what Dean meant, his curiosity temporarily overcoming his anger. Dean stood near a young man wearing slacks and a polo shirt, a burger held halfway to his mouth. Dean shook his head at the guy. "His girlfriend is trying to get him to commit by inventing another guy who is interested in her. Sick, huh?"
Sam realized that everyone in the room was frozen or paused. Was this that time-stopping thing Dean tried to describe? "What's going on?"
"Just a sec, Sammy," Dean replied, reaching across the guy. Dean's hand came back with the woman's purse. He opened it and took out a thin book titled 'How to Convince Your Boyfriend To Commit.' "It's people who buy this crap who ought to be committed," Dean said with a sneer. He left the book next to the guy's plate.
Dean headed across the room. "If that doesn't do it, tough." His brother paused at the door. "Dude, you coming? I can't keep it paused forever." He chuckled. "Actually, I'm not real sure I know how I'm doing it now."
Sam marched past his brother toward the car, angry thoughts and feelings swirling around his head. As he reached for the car doorhandle, a sense of peace and calm drifted by. Sam paused, wondering what caused that. Then the same sensation happened again, only this time it stayed, pushing away all that anger. Mentally Sam reached out for it, pulling it around himself like a shield. It wasn't until he felt fingers digging into his shoulder muscles that he realized he was being touched.
"Dude, you're way too tense. Hey, how about a massage?" Sam looked back into Dean's beaming face. "Huh? Massage? If we find someone really good, you won't even care if she's good looking." Dean's eyebrows danced over his eyes.
Sam squeezed his eyes closed. Well, now he knew just touching Dean wouldn't be enough to kill his big brother. That should be comforting, but unfortunately said brother just offered to find him a prostitute. That was disturbing on a whole new level.