Probably just one or two more chapters after this one. Wow, this has been fun!! Thank you, fellow oddballs!!
Chapter Twenty-five
"Dean?" Sam mumbled. His mouth felt too dry, like he had been using it to store cotton balls. And his head hurt. A lot.
"Sam?"
That was not Dean's voice. Sam chose not to answer, deciding he just didn't feel up to it at the moment.
"Dean?"
Okay, the right to use that kind of panic in saying his brother's name belonged to only one person, him. Sam forced his eyes to open. It was still dark, but not as dark as he remembered. He expected to hurt now, for his whole body to be terribly sore. Instead he felt pretty good, except for the headache. But even that was starting to fade. Sam blinked a few times before his eyes focused. Mike bent over Dean, face tight and drawn, one finger stuck awkwardly out.
"Better use a stick," Sam advised. "Dean doesn't like being poked."
"Sam." Mike turned to him, visibly relieved. "Feeling better?" With one incredibly strong hand, Mike helped Sam sit.
The world swam around his head, spinning crazily. Sam held one hand to his head, trying to force the world to settle, behave. "Better?" Sam repeated as the spinning slowed. "Yeah," Sam admitted as the world around him settled. "Better."
"Good enough to poke Dean?" Mike asked, motioning to his unmoving brother.
"I'm not crazy," Sam replied. He scooted over to sit next to his big brother. With a tentative hand, Sam gently touched Dean's shoulder. "Dean? Come on, man. Wake up." His brother did not move.
"Try again," Mike urged, motioning at Dean's still form.
"Dean!" Sam grabbed his brother by both shoulders. Did Dean feel lighter? He'd better not. Sam tried to probe his brother's feelings and thoughts, but he touched nothing. Trying harder did nothing. Nothing. Sam pressed his ear against Dean's chest and heard air passing. If he was patient he could feel Dean's chest moving. Well, he had that. If Dean were dreaming he should be able to tap into that. Then Sam realized he was not getting nothing, he was getting less than nothing.
"It's gone," he breathed, pulling Dean into his lap. He felt safe like this, content. "Gone." It was weird not to be able to sense emotions anymore, like an appendage had been amputated.
"What's gone?" Mike asked, eyes darting between them glowing softly.
Sam looked around the graveyard. For most people this place was a site of sorrow, for others simply a last resting place for a loved one. For Sam it was one of the regular places he worked but right now, it was beautiful. It was one of the most beautiful places he ever laid eyes on. "Wow. Now that's a tree. Mike, do you see the size of that oak over there?" Sam pointed out the tree near Ben's grave. It was simply amazing. Why didn't he notice that before? He saw the tree before, sure, but not its beauty.
"Uh, Dean? I think maybe you took a little too much there," Mike said, touching Dean for the first time.
A grunt answered Mike's gentle prod, followed by a groan. "Remind me not to do that again," he muttered.
Sam laughed lightly, clinging to Dean's shoulders as his brother's head rested in his lap. "Dean? Have you ever seen such a great tree?" he asked, anxious to share his discovery with his brother. When his brother's eyes opened and narrowed suspiciously on him, Sam wondered if he said the wrong thing. "Sorry. You okay?"
"Not a girl," Dean muttered, struggling in Sam's hands.
Sam chuckled as he pushed his brother up into a sitting position. Typical Dean. He liked that about his brother. Actually, right now, he liked pretty much everything. "Dean? Am I stoned?"
Dean's head dropped forward. "God help us if you are."
"Dean?" Mike spoke carefully, as if Dean might break if his words were too loud or too hard. Didn't Mike know how tough Dean was? "How do you feel?"
"Like crap," Dean snapped. His head lifted. "Normal, right? No freaky glowing eyes?"
Mike shook his head. "No, no freaky glowing eyes. Want some help with that, or just sleep it off?"
Dean held up a hand, warding Mike away. "Just sleep. Is he gonna be okay?" Dean jabbed a thumb in Sam's direction.
"I feel great, Dean! Why wouldn't I be okay?" Sam looked up at the glistening stars, the wispy clouds. "Wow. Now that's a pretty night sky. Isn't it?"
Dean groaned again.
"I think he'll be just fine. It'll just take a little while for the euphoria to wear off," Mike explained, hauling Dean up.
Sam looked around. Why was he sitting if everybody else was standing? He popped up to his feet, energy surging through him. Wow, he really felt great.
"Euphoria?" Dean groaned, casting a sideways look at Sam. "I think I prefer him broody."
Sam chuckled. "Don't you just love Dean's sense of humor?"
Dean glared at Mike, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I didn't do it. Hopefully it'll wear off in a couple of days."
"Days?" Dean's voice took on that dangerous tone. Uh-oh. Mike was gonna get it now! "Days?"
Mike looked down at his wrist.
"I swear, if you mention harp lessons I'm gonna…"
"What?" Mike glanced back up, grinning. "Kick my ass? Yeah, right. I don't think you have that option anymore, Dean. Well, I'll see you boys around!" Mike waved as he faded out of sight.
"What did he mean, Dean?" Sam asked. Honestly, Mike could be so cryptic. It's a good thing Sam liked him so much, or he would really find that irritating.
"Nevermind, Sammy," Dean snapped. "Let's get back so I can crash."
"Sure!" Sam raced to pick up their stuff. Whoops. They left that grave open. "Wait a second, Dean, we still need to…" Sam blinked. He blinked again. Hard. Ben's grave was filled in. When did that happen?
"What, Sam? Come on! I'm tired!"
"Coming!" Sam rushed to pick up all their stuff and erase as much sign of their nightly activities as he could before joining his brother. Dean tried to take some of their stuff from him, but Sam refused. "Nope, not going to happen. Not with your back." He hummed a happy tune as he walked to the car.
"Dude, what is that?" Dean asked as he opened the trunk for Sam. "That song?"
"Whistle while you work," Sam replied. At Dean's puzzled expression, he explained, "From Snow White? The dwarfs sang it."
"Dwarfs sang whistle while you work." Dean stared hard at him. "And you wonder why I never watched that crap." His brother slammed the trunk, hard.
Sam grinned, he couldn't help it. Everything just felt so good, so right. After he sat in the passenger seat of the car he hugged himself, wondering why he didn't just explode with happiness. Dean did look really tired, though. "Dean? I feel fine, want me to drive?"
"No, thanks." Dean started the motor. "I'd rather wind up at the house, not Disneyland."
Sam beamed. "Hey, Dean? Do you think we could…"
"No."
Sam shrugged, looking out the window. "Wow," he marveled as they passed another huge old oak, "that's a great tree, too. Just look at the size of that trunk."
"Uh-huh."
As Dean crawled onto the nasty mattress, which Sam kept proclaiming had the softest lumps ever, he hoped Mike was right and Sam would snap out of this. Soon. A few days of this could result in Sam being bound and gagged until he started acting a little more normal. God, his head hurt. As he shut his eyes, Dean sent up a silent prayer.
He froze on the mattress. What did he just do? Pray? Cautiously Dean opened one eye. Sam grinned in the dark, watching him. That was beyond creepy.
"Go play with your laptop," Dean ordered.
"Hey, great idea! Thanks, Dean!"
"Jobs," Dean snapped. "Not porn." He shut his eyes again. Why not porn, he wondered. Sam liked it. Because, he told himself, he didn't want to wake up to 'those' sounds. Yeah, that was it. In Sam's current state he'd probably REALLY enjoy it. Dean was not up for dealing with that. Not at all.
Light penetrated his eyelids way too soon. Dean blinked. Was it morning already? Crap. He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking for his brother. Sam was not in the main room. His headache was better, but it was still a dull throb right behind his eyes.
"Sam?" he called. No answer. Crap, crap, crap. He tried to stand, but his legs were too weak to hold him up. Not good. How the heck did he make it here last night? "Sam!" Still no answer.
He concentrated on Sam, wondering where his brother was. A thin ray of light shot out of his stomach, but it was too weak to follow. What was he doing? He had a freaking cell phone! As Dean worked his cell out of his pocket, the door opened. Sam walked in, face beaming. Shit. It hadn't worn off yet.
"You're up! It's a beautiful day, Dean. You've been missing it!" Sam gushed as he sauntered over. A brown bag swung from one of Sam's hands.
"What do you have there?" Dean asked, motioning to the bag and desperately trying to ignore Sam's attitude.
"Breakfast for you and lunch for me," Sam said as he sunk down to sit on the floor across from Dean. He smiled again, a wide, face-stretching smile, as he reached into the bag. A white bag with grease stains on the side which smelled suspiciously of sugar was handed over to Dean.
"Donuts," he said, breathing in the wonderful aroma. "Are these still hot?" he asked, amazed.
"Yep. I had them make a new batch," Sam replied. "I got a burger."
"At the donut place?" Dean asked, his hand already in the white bag.
Sam shook his head. "Nope. I figured you deserved something extra special today." He grinned again.
Dean shook his head. He really, really hoped this euphoria thing wore off soon. "And why is that, Sammy? Did you find a new hunt?"
Sam shook his head. "I thought we could hang out here for a while."
Dean eyed his brother suspiciously as he stuffed a hot glazed into his mouth. "Why?" he asked around the food in his mouth.
Sam beamed again as he shrugged. "Just because."
"Because?" Dean prompted.
Sam took a big bite of burger to avoid answering, like it wasn't obvious. Dean decided to polish off his donuts before trying again. "What's going on, Sam?" he asked as he brushed bits of glazed sugar off his shirt.
Sam sighed as he peeled back the paper around his burger. "Well, I was thinking." Not always a good sign, Dean noted. "We haven't had a lot of time to just hang out together lately." One hand waved through the air. "Too much going on, you know?"
Dean nodded slowly. "What else is new?"
"Right!" Sam grinned. "So I figured, why not now? This hunt is over, Mike doesn't have anything new for us, and we have a free place to stay. Let's make the most of it."
Dean could not put his finger on why, but it did not sound as simple as all that. "And you want to see how much last night took out of me, right?"
"Well…" Sam glanced away, "yeah. But I really just want to hang out."
Dean groaned, leaning his head as far over as he could to pop his neck. "I could use another day," he admitted. "So what did you have in mind?"
Two hours later Dean reminded himself, again, to never ever ever ask Sam what his brother had in mind. His legs ached, hurt like he just ran a freaking marathon, from standing in line for a couple of minutes. They were waiting in line to actually buy tickets for, of all freaking things, a play. Yes, Sam's idea of a good time was to go see a play. Not rent a good movie or shoot cans off a wall, to go see a frigging play.
"This place better have comfortable seats," Dean groused as the line inched forward. "Why are we paying to see this again?"
Sam just smiled as he shook his head. "You don't sneak in to see live plays, Dean. Doesn't work. Besides, these people really worked hard to put this on, the least you can do is show some appreciation."
"What's it called again?" Dean asked, craning his sore neck to read the billboard. "The Importance of Ernie? Why don't they just ask Bert?"
"It's the Importance of Being Earnest, Dean," Sam corrected, but his smile was not quite as broad as it was a minute ago. "It's a really good play by Oscar Wilde. Just give it a chance."
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd rather sit in a dark bar, throw some darts and drink beer."
"I'm sure you would," Sam agreed, the smile gone. "But you agreed to do what I wanted, for a change."
"For a change?" Dean asked, incredulous. "What's that supposed to mean? We do what you want all the time."
"Oh, right." Sam snorted. "Like I really want to go sit in a bar and watch you hit on women all night."
"Face it, Sam," Dean turned to look up at him, "you could use the pointers." A faint smile tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth.
A loud chuckled escaped from Sam. "You know what?" He glanced around. "I could use another dart lecture."
"I'll buy the beer," Dean promised, tossing his keys in his hand. "Let's go."