Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (though currently I wouldnt mind either of the boys)
The Demon Drink
Dean staggered out of the toilet, hitting the TV off as he went past, and collapsed onto his bed, feeling disgusted with himself. He had been the one who had attacked Sam. He had been the one who nearly killed his little brother. After looking all over town, promising vengeance on who had hurt his little brother, he had found out that the one he ought to be attacking is himself.
Ever since day one, the instinct labelled 'protect Sammy' had been hard wired into him. So how could he have fallen so far from trying to protect his little brother, to the extent that he tried to kill him? The Apocalypse had been about that, about the two of them being destined to kill each other, but they had averted that, refused to play those wanker angel's games. But now, years after they had done everything possible to avoid trying to kill one another, Dean had just tried to murder Sam. He could just hear Zachariah's mocking laughter. And the worst part of it was, he couldn't even blame anything. No shapeshifters, no vampires, no demons, no angels. All that had been behind his attack on Sam was him, pure unadulterated rage and hate, and it had exploded out of him, and had hurt Sam along with it.
How the hell was Sam ever going to forgive him?
He had seen traumatised kids, who always flinched when people raised their hands for whatever reason. Would that happen to Sam? Would he be afraid to be around Dean? Or would he do worse? Sam knew that there was one thing he could do that could torture and hurt Dean more than his forty years in Hell could ever have managed to do. He could leave. He had done it before, but he had always come back. But would he do it this time, knowing how close Dean had come to killing him? Dean had seen the video. Some small, sadistic, horrible part of him had wanted to inflict all that pain on his brother, had wanted to murder Sam. But that wasn't what he truly felt, what he truly believed. Maybe there was more of Alastair left in him than he thought.
Shivering and once more fighting the urge to vomit, Dean wondered what he should do. Sam would remember. His brother, whose mind was already fragile, would remember his big brother trying to kill him. What if he destroyed the last of the ties that bind? What if Dean, by attempting to kill Sam, broke the final hold on his brother's sanity and turned his head to mush? What was he going to do?
And just as importantly, what had caused Dean to finally snap? The landlady had said that Dean had told Sam to go and ruin someone else's life. Which obviously meant that Dean, fuelled by drunken rage, had gone down a path he should never have gone down: the path which placed the blame for everything bad in their lives at Sam's feet. Mom, dad, Ellen, Jo, Rufus, Cas, Bobby, too many other people to name, and the entire mess with Apocalypse and Ruby and the deal and dying...surely he hadn't blamed Sam for everything. Sam had always feared that it was all his fault, that he was cursed, that everything bad that happened to them was in some way due to him being him, being what he felt was cursed. What had caused Dean to snap so badly at his brother, to nearly beat the life out of the one person he had left in the world?
Dean wanted to hit something. Instead, he contented himself by picking up Bobby's hip flask and pouring the contents down the sink in the bathroom. Bobby had always said that family made mistakes. But he also said that if they were truly family, they would fix them. Friends of theirs said much the same thing. Dean had to talk to Sam. He had to find out just how bad the emotional damage was, just how much he had damaged his baby brother's already fractured psyche. Dean took a deep breath. No more Dutch courage, not for him. No, it was time to face up to his demons.
Steeling himself, Dean headed for the hospital.
XX
"Come on Sam. You must have known this was coming, I don't see why you're so upset. You must have known that Dean only carried your sorry carcass around all these years because his precious daddy told him to, he didn't want to." Lucifer taunted.
Sam started at the wall opposite where the devil was sitting, trying his hardest to ignore him. But what if Lucifer was right? Dean clearly hated him. He had wanted to kill him. Sam didn't even know what he had done to warrant such a thing. He had atoned for the Apocalypse, and Dean had had a hand in that anyway. He'd tried to give his brother a normal life as much as possible, it wasn't his fault things with Lisa and Ben had fallen through. The demon blood, he'd gotten over, and he had helped kill Ruby. So why had Dean snapped like that?
Or was it just as he had always feared? That Dean would eventually realise he was ruining his life and try to get rid of him once and for all?
Dean had tried to kill him. Maybe he had always hated his little brother, only pretended to care. Maybe Lucifer was right.
"You know I'm right Sammy. You're a freak. A monster. What would Dean want with a brother like you? He just proved right everything I've been telling you. That he hated your guts. My most ingenious torture yet this. Michael loves it by the way."
"Leave me alone." Sam muttered, determinedly staring at the wall.
"You're only denying the obvious Sammy. He wanted you dead. Why do you think he spends so much time in bars? He does it to get away from you. Yesterday, you went looking for him, invaded his personal space. No wonder he was mad. He tries his hardest to escape from you, your curse, his useless, needy brother, and all the time you come back. Can you imagine how much better he would be if you hadn't been born?"
Sam had wondered that recently, had even tried to bring it about once, but it hadn't worked. He had still been born, and the world, and Dean's life, had still all gone to hell. Maybe he deserved to die. Lucifer was right. Dean deserved something better than this. If he was gone, he would finally be happy. Dean deserved to be happy. Sam bit back tears, which were flooding in his eyes. His brother had always sacrificed everything for him. His life, his love, his happiness. And all Sam had brought him was pain. He would be better off if Sam wasn't around. Dean had taken matters into his own hands, had tried, wanted to kill him, just so he could finally be free. And Sam couldn't even manage to die for his brother.
He looked at the monitors that he was plugged into, trying to figure out which one to pull out, to finally give Dean what he wanted, what he deserved. Sam was getting angry, ignoring Lucifer as he encouraged him to do it. Yeah, that bastard would win, but better Lucifer won than he spent another day on the planet, hurting Dean. Sam reached across to the monitor, and felt vaguely triumphant when he found what he was looking for. A pair of scissors, used to cut his bandages had been left there. The answer was obvious. He had to let Dean live his life, free from the taint of his younger brother.
"That's it Sammy! Better you die than keep hurting Dean. He'll be so happy when you're gone, you've no idea. No more cursed brother, no more monsters, just him alone again. He could find a family, settle down, become a dad...all the things he can't do because you hold him back, you're like some sort of parasite. Go on, end it, fix it!" Lucifer encouraged, thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Shut up." Sam growled. Yeah, he was killing himself, but was it too much to ask that he could do it in peace without the devil giving him a running commentary?
"Hurry Sam, do it!" Lucifer urged, as Sam picked up the scissors and brought them to his wrist.
"Sam? Sam!" Dean cried in alarm as he entered the room.
"Well darn." Lucifer cursed, disappearing temporarily.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded, taking the scissors from Sam and throwing them into the bin, out of Sam's reach.
"It's what you want isn't it?" Sam asked angrily, glaring at his brother, though he couldn't help but shiver with fear a little as he saw his elder brother.
Dean took a step back, staggered by the accusation. Sam actually thought he wanted him dead.
"Sam...no, of course I don't want you dead." He protested, and Sam glared at him.
"Really, you could have fooled me. I can't imagine why I would think my brother actually wanted me dead!" he yelled, and Dean flinched from his angry tone.
"Look Sam, I know what I did was inexcusable..."
"But get over it? Because that's usually what you want me to do, isn't it? The same as always Dean, a standard for you, a different one for everyone else! I was pissed about you killing someone I cared for, and you basically told me to get over myself and stop being mad. Whereas times I've lied to you, like with Ruby, you've never let it go, you never let me forget!" Sam roared, and Dean would rather go back to Hell than admit that his brother might have a point about that. The thing with Amy, Dean had been pissed with himself, and pissed with Sam for being pissed with him in the first place. But if the positions were reversed, he was pretty sure Sam would drop it, unlike him.
"No, of course not, I mean how do you get over something like that? Of course I don't want you to just forget that I did it, there's no way either of us can do that. I need to know what went wrong, what I did..."
Sam angrily cut him off. Not that Dean blamed him. In his position, Dean would probably want to kill him too, and a tiny part of him was immensely glad that Sam was too weak to fight, because while it had been a while since they had tested it, Dean wasn't so sure he'd come off the better party in a fight anymore.
"What went wrong? I don't know. Maybe the fact that I was born in the first place. Like you said, I ruined your life." Sam growled out, though there was less menace behind it, and Dean could see the tears welling in his eyes. The urge to reach out and start stroking his brother's hair was overpowering, and he moved his hand towards Sam.
And Sam flinched.
Not a little one either. He backed away from the offending hand, afraid it would suddenly turn on him and attack him once again. Dean felt his heart break in two. His brother was afraid of him.
"Keep that away from me." Sam bit out, glaring at the wall, where he once more saw Lucifer, now eating popcorn and waving merrily.
"Sammy..."
"And don't call me that. You lost the right to call me that." Sam said, aiming to deliberately hurt him, and it worked. Dean felt those words like an ice cold knife running through the already broken remnants of his heart.
"Oh Sam. I know there's no way I can ask you to forgive me, or make it up to you. I don't even understand what happened, what made me act like that, you know I'd never hurt you..." Dean said, and Sam turned back to glare at him.
"Really? Funny that, because it's your fault I'm in here." He said sarcastically, and Dean did have to admit that he deserved that.
"Please Sam, I have to know..." Dean pleaded, wishing he could reach out to his brother, or better yet turn back the clock and stop this ever happening.
Sam continued to glare at him, but it was the tears in his eyes that were really killing him. Had Dean not arrived when he did, he was willing to bet that Sam might actually have done it, killed himself. Had he made him feel that bad? Or was it just the stress of what had happened mixed with that bastard Lucifer talking in his head?
"You were already drunk when I went to get you, really drunk. I was worried about you, you'd been gone a long time. I went up to try and take you home, and you pushed me away, so I decided to let you stay a little longer. Eventually, they started to close up and that's when you started to get angry. You didn't want to go, you just wanted to stay there. You kept telling me to leave you alone, that you didn't need me. I finally convinced you to go, but you were furious that I was making you. You started saying all sorts of stuff, how you were fed up of dragging me round, fed up of cleaning up after me. You said I had ruined your life, and that all before we even left the bar. Going outside just made you worse. You started telling me how everyone dying was my fault, how the Leviathans were my fault, the Apocalypse, everything. You mentioned Lisa and Ben, saying how you could have built a life with them if it weren't for me. I just let you keep talking, but you were starting to really get on my nerves. Then you mentioned how I was acting all pissed because of Amy, and that's when I snapped back, saying I had every right to be pissed with you because of what you did. But you never did get why I was so pissed with you when you killed Amy. Yeah, I was angry that you killed her, even more angry because you lied to me about it and I had to find out from a freaking Leviathan. But that wasn't upset me the most. The thing is you said you trusted me, and I finally really felt like I was your brother again, after the demon blood, the Apocalypse and the soulless stuff. You finally trusted me again. And then you went behind my back, after saying you would trust my judgement, and killed her anyway. I saw that I still wasn't good enough for Dean Winchester's standards of excellence that no one can meet but him." Sam continued bitterly, not looking at Dean.
Dean was flabbergasted. All that time he had spent being annoyed at Sam, all because his brother was annoyed with him due to his actions, he had never once guessed what had been truly bugging Sam. Dean was feeling worse by the second. He had begun the beating before he had even left the bar.
"You said if it weren't for me, you would have a mom, a dad, friends, a family, a life. That everything wrong in your, and I quote 'miserable excuse for a life' was all down to me. Mom dying, dad dying, Bobby dying, if I hadn't been here, none of it would have happened. I tried to reason with you, tell you that you'd feel better after some sleep, and that you wouldn't be saying those things if you weren't really drunk. You then started trying to pull away from me, you said you didn't want to be touched by me because I'm 'poison'. I got angry and left you standing against the wall, and I went to open the door. You were still muttering, and I'm sure you said something about Bobby and Lisa, so I went to check that you were alright... and then you hit me. And you kept hitting me. Punching, kicking, driving my face into the ground, you kept going at it, saying that you hate me, that I was whinny. I kept trying to make you stop, come to your senses, pleading with you not to do it. You didn't listen. And then you grabbed my neck. I've been strangled a lot of times Dean, but never before did I want to just let go. It has never felt as horrible as it did last night. You were trying to kill me. You nearly did kill me. All because you didn't stop your drinking, and keep everything bottled up inside you. It all came out, and I was the one who got in the way, the one who ruined your life, and you wanted to rid yourself of me. And you damn near succeeded too." He finished miserably.
Dean didn't know what to say. He had told his brother he hated him. Told him that it was his fault his life was in the gutter. His fault that everyone they cared about was dead. His fault that everything in their lives went wrong. That he didn't need him. That his little brother was poison. And then he had subjected Sam to one of the most brutal attacks he had ever endured. His saintly big brother had nearly killed him.
"Sam..." Dean began, but his brother turned back to face him. While his eyes were full of tears, his anger was also back, rather than the resignation.
"Don't Dean. Just don't. I've been telling you for months that you were drinking too much. You didn't listen. I've been asking you to talk, get things off your chest, you didn't listen. I've been trying to help you, fix you, and you never let me. I knew I was losing you, and I couldn't do anything. You are a vicious, brutal alcoholic, and that combined with your own self loathing made you do what you did. No demon, no ghost. Just you. A drunk, who keeps all his anger inside. And then you took it out on me. I gave you so many opportunities to tell me what was wrong, to help you, but you didn't let me. You just bottled it up, and you finally exploded. I kept telling you and you didn't hear me. And it was me who paid the price. So just...go. I can't be around you anymore. Go. Just go. I don't want to see you anymore. Just go." Sam said, tears in his eyes and voice, but his tone still grim and firm.
Dean looked at his little brother, each word ripping grievous wounds in his heart and soul. And with a last, forlorn, desperate look at his brother, he stood and went for the door.
"I'm sorry." He whispered before he left Sam's room, tears in his own eyes. Trying hard not to sob, to let what Sam had just said really affect him, he all but ran for the car.
Sam let the tears fall and pulled the covers around himself. He couldn't be with Dean. Not now. Maybe not for a while. He would have to see. But that didn't make it any easier. He hated himself for what he had said to Dean, everything he had said to Dean. He hated all the hurtful things he had said to his brother, hated making his brother feel so horrible and upset. But deep down, most of it, he knew that Dean had had to hear it, knew Dean deserved to hear it, before he hurt someone else or himself with his drinking and his feelings, but still, he felt like shit for having been the one who said it.
"Alright, I lied. Big brother doesn't hate you so much, its just he blames you for everything. Its himself he hates, and he cant very well kick himself to death can he. So, that leaves you!" Lucifer said heartily.
"Lucifer?" Sam asked, knowing he was skating on thin ice but not really caring at the moment, he felt bad enough as it was.
"Yeah itty bitty Sammy?"
"Shut the hell up."
And for once, the devil actually did as he was told and Sam allowed himself to fall asleep.
XX
Dean sat on his bed in the darkened motel room. There was a bottle of whisky sitting right opposite him. He had bought it on the way home from the hospital, fully intending to drown his sorrows. But as soon as he had gotten into the motel, saw where he had almost murdered his baby brother, and the bed that should be full of Sam typing away on his laptop, or reading a book, he had set the bottle down and was now just sitting, staring at it.
You're a vicious, brutal alcoholic...
Their dad had drunk a lot at times. Once, Sam had snuck out to see a movie with some of the friends he had been with in that town, and had crept back in, only to find his drunken and very angry father waiting for him. He'd only hit him once, and John had immediately regretted it, and had apologised in his own grudging way the next day. But after seeing the mark on Sam's cheek, Dean had vowed to himself that he would never become someone who would hit the ones they love just because of drink.
And to be fair he hadn't. He'd become someone who'd kill someone they love just because of drink.
Sam's condemnation of him had stung. Hurt, worse than the meat hooks in hell. He had never felt like that before. Everything Sam had told him about himself, everything Sam had told him he said to his brother last night, his condemnation as a vicious alcoholic bruiser, who was trying to self destruct but couldn't, so instead tried to destroy the thing that was most precious to him. It was an exact opposite of four years ago, when Dean had given Sam every opportunity to own up about the demon blood. He had given him every opportunity, but hadn't really pursued it, filled with his own visions of hell and his worries about the Apocalypse, and being screwed over by the angels.
Now, the tables were reversed. Sam had given him every opportunity to talk, so he could help, all he had ever wanted to do was help, and Dean, obsessed with his own failings, angry at Castiel's betrayal and all it entailed, hurt and anger at Bobby dying, and feeling sorry for himself, had just gotten worse and worse. Meanwhile his brother, who had the devil in his head 24/7, and also had to put up with an alcoholic big brother who he was slowly losing to his own self pity and self destruction, had continued trying to help his brother in any way he could, despite everything that he had to deal with. Even though he knew his brother wouldn't talk, wouldn't let him help, and he could easily get hurt. And he had.
Sam had implied that he had been afraid something like this would happen. And the worst part of it was, Dean was the one who had let it, and made it happen. Dean hated himself, and it was Sam who had paid the price. And now he had lost the thing that he loved the most. He had lost his little brother, the one good thing he had left in his life, the reason he still bothered to get up in the morning despite how crappy things were, his reason for being, the thing he had taken for granted until it was too late. He was the one who was poison.
Dean had once said that maybe the world wanted to end. That wasn't true. Truth was, he was the one who wanted to end. Now more than ever, considering he had just lost himself his little brother.
"I told you you couldn't keep all your anger and guilt bottled up Dean."
Dean looked up at the sound of the voice, and saw the pale, beautiful form of Jo appearing before him. His subconscious? Guardian angel? Spirit? Whatever.
"I know you did. I didn't listen though did I? And now look. I've got nothing." Dean said miserably, and Jo rolled her eyes.
"Don't give me that Dean. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong Dean. That's always been your problem. You blame yourself, feel guilty for all that goes wrong in this fucked up world of ours. You're just like Sam in that respect. He thinks everything bad is his fault too. Problem is, you feel angry about it when you can't fix things. He just feels sad. And with you, it's a volatile combination when mixed with excessive amounts of alcohol."
Dean looked at her as she stroked her blonde hair behind her ear, and sighed.
"I get it Jo. I'm angry, and bitter, and it all came out at once, and everything I've felt for the last god knows how long, all came out last night. Problem was, it wasn't Sam I was angry at, it was me, and I made him suffer for it." He lamented, hating himself.
"Yeah you did. You screwed up big time. But, do you wanna know something? Both of you have screwed up a lot before, and you always bounced back. Why not this time?" she asked with a smile, and Dean snorted derisively.
"I tried to kill him. I nearly did kill him. Funny, I spent years insisting I never would, and years after all that is done, I almost did. What a joke."
Jo glowered at him angrily.
"So that's it is it? You think you screwed up one time too many, and that's the end of your relationship with Sam?" she demanded angrily.
"He doesn't want to be near me." He growled angrily, and she hissed in vexation.
"There's times he hasn't wanted to be near you. And may I say, a lot of the times I actually agreed with him, despite how I feel about you. Its been very hard to prevent my mom coming down here and kicking your ass. But the point is, he always came back, to be with you, his big brother, the person he loves most in the world. But you're willing to let all of that go? Dean, you two are closer than anyone else on the planet! If anyone can overcome this, you can!"
Dean got up and flounced towards the bathroom door.
"It's over Jo. I screwed up one time too many, and now I've lost him, ok? That's it. I tried to kill him. There is no overcoming that!"
"No overcoming that? Dean, my mom blew me and her up! And we still get on perfectly well!" she yelled angrily.
"Ah, what do you know, you're dead." Dean stormed, and went into the bathroom for a drink of water.
"I know a hell of a lot more than you do, and you're alive! Dean, look at what you're doing!" she cried in frustration as she appeared beside him in the blink of an eye.
"I'm drinking water." He said, confused as he looked at the cup in his hand, and she smiled.
"Exactly."
Dean looked at her in confusion, then back at the glass again. She then took his hand, her skin still felt mostly warm, which struck him as strange, and she took him back through to the other room and sat him back on the bed.
"What do you see?" she asked, pointing.
"The bottle of whisky I got." He said, wondering if dying scrambled your marbles a little.
"Yeah. Unopened. You were drinking water, not alcohol." She said softly, smiling at him.
And then it finally clicked. It had taken a very long time, but Dean had just made the first step to stopping drinking. All because of Sam. True, not the way either of them would have preferred for it to happen, but because of Sam, he had turned to water rather than booze for the first time in god knows how long.
"Dean, you feel guilty every day. But you've got to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. You will self destruct. You'll hate yourself, and eventually, you'll drag Sam down with you, and you'll only wind up hurting him. Everything that goes wrong in this world isn't your fault Dean. If you want to sit here and drink yourself to death or put a bullet through your skull, go ahead. But your life isn't that bad Dean. You have someone who loves you, cares for you enough that he will forgive you for what you did to him. You aren't to blame for the world's ills Dean. In fact, the only thing you should feel guilty about right now is what you did to Sam, and the fact that you were willing to quit rather than try to fix it." She said chidingly, and he smiled.
Maybe there was hope after all.
"But after what I did..."
"Sam loves you. And he's a lot more forgiving and wise than you are. He also doesn't have impossibly high standards. Talk to him." She urged.
"Jo, I don't know if I can do it alone..." he said, though he didn't know himself what he was talking about.
"But you won't be alone. If you fix this, you'll have Sam." She said softly, and she kissed his forehead and was gone.
Dean thought about what she had said. Could he really fix things with Sam? They'd overcome bad stuff before after all. Nothing quite like this, but they had. Could they do it again?
And as Dean thought about it, he noticed that he felt different. He felt lighter, happier. Maybe it was time to let the self pity and self hatred go. Maybe it was time he started being a human again. Maybe it was time he started being himself again. Maybe it was time he started being Sam's big brother again.
Dean got to his feet, and stood. There were two paths before him. One, to the whisky, and to oblivion. The other, to Sam and redemption. Dean turned towards the door.
"Hang on Sammy. I'm coming." He muttered to himself, taking a last look at the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.
"Ah good, my drink. I'll take this, just to remove temptation, so to speak. Thanks Dean, was running a little low. " Rufus called from somewhere, and the bottle disappeared from the room.
"Here's to you guys." Dean said fondly, and made way for the hospital.
XX
"Sam honey? Wake up."
Sam opened his eyes, grumbling.
"Lucifer, piss off, using a woman's voice isn't going to make me like you any more." He said, but it was not Lucifer at the foot of his bed.
It was his mother.
Mary Winchester had died when he was six months old, sliced open and burned on the ceiling by Azazel. Since then the boys had seen her only a few times, usually involving time travel. But she was still beautiful, and Sam could tell that this wasn't the mocking version that wanker Zachariah had created, this was truly his mother.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" he asked, wincing as he tried to sit up to talk to her.
"Helping my son. You seemed to be having a crappy day." She said fondly, sitting on his bed and stroking his hair.
"Yeah, you could say that." Sam mumbled.
"Aww how sweet! The big bad hunter needs his mommy!" Lucifer said as he appeared, speaking in a baby voice.
Sam glowered at Lucifer, but Mary got there first.
"Hey! Back off! I'm here to talk to my son, and I don't care who the hell you are, I'm going to say what I came here to say, and you buddy boy are not going to get in my way. Clear?" she asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Lucifer and Sam looked at each other, flabbergasted, but Sam could barely suppress his glee at the astounded look on Lucifer's face.
"Don't you know who I am?" he demanded furiously, and she rolled her eyes.
"Yes. You're nothing more than a spoilt little brat who had a perpetual temper tantrum and got himself kicked out of home. So, too proud to say sorry, you go off and start making tons of little friends underground so you don't feel lonely. Quite sad really. And then you ruin millions of lives across the centuries simply by existing, including my two kids, so I really am not your biggest fan. And then, because you're bored and have jealousy issues to your brothers, you start a fight to make yourself feel big and important, but all it makes you do is seem childish and pathetic. You're willing to wreck everything your family owns just to show that you're better than humans, when really, you're not better than the worst of us. I couldn't care less who you are Lucifer. I'm dead, there's nothing you can do to me, you rotten little brat. Now, go back to your hidey hole, and give my boy a break, or so help me, I'll stick you on the rack and see how you like it!" she snapped.
Lucifer looked at her in shock, and Sam was sure he saw his lip tremble, before the devil slouched his shoulders and disappeared.
"There. That's better." She said, and turned her kindly face back to her son.
"Thanks mom." He said with relief, and she stroked his hair behind his ear tenderly.
"You always had long hair. I knew you would keep growing it, I knew you liked to annoy your father." She said fondly.
"So what are you doing here?" Sam asked.
"You needed help, a bit of guidance. Dean." She said, and her tone wasn't angry, just disappointed.
"Yeah..." he admitted.
"Sam. Firstly, you shouldn't listen to Lucifer. He's a horrid little shit who gets his jollies making other people miserable. Dean doesn't hate you honey. You're all he has left. He died for you, started an Apocalypse for you. Believe me, he doesn't hate you. Nor does he blame you for everything that goes wrong. It's more a case of blaming himself." She said, and Sam looked away from her.
"I know that mom. But he won't let me help, and now..."
"Dean made a horrible, drunken mistake darling. And I saw it all. Suffice to say, I've rarely been so disappointed in him. When he abandoned you after you found out you were Lucifer's vessel. Actually wanting to say 'yes' to Michael. And now. I know nothing excuses what he did Sam, and nor should it. But, Dean didn't mean to hurt you. He would never hurt you the way he did last night, not willingly, not if he was himself. The person he was trying to hurt was himself, but he just couldn't. But, his anger and everything else exploded, along with the booze, and you were the only thing there he could hurt. Believe me, no one in the world feels worse than he does right now. He thinks hes lower than a snake's testicle."
Sam smiled a little, and she looked at him searchingly.
"What you said to him earlier? Did you mean it?"
"The stuff I said to hurt him, no, of course not. He screwed up. Yeah, he hurt me a lot, but I know he didn't really mean to do that. I know now he wouldn't really want to kill me. But the stuff I said still stands, he has to let me help him, or at the very least help himself, or..."
"So you still want him around?" she asked, and he nodded.
"Of course I do. He's my big brother, even if he is a jackass." He said, and she winked at him.
"He needs you as much as you need him. And I know that if anyone can get past all this, its you two. Don't give up on your brother Sam. You can fix him, you just need to have faith in him, like he had faith in you." She said gently, and he smiled.
"I always knew that mom. I wasn't giving up on him, I just couldn't be around him for a while, considering what he did. I was hurt, angry, upset, and Lucifer was making me think he wanted to do it, I was a little crazy too, more so than usual. But I would never give up on him." He said, and she smiled, and kissed his forehead.
"That's my boy." She said, and just like that she was gone.
Sam smiled. He knew that now. Dean would never mean any of the stuff he had said last night. And he also knew that Dean would never want him dead, no matter what Lucifer said. And he knew for a fact that Dean didn't hate him. Like Mary had said, you didn't go through everything they had without having a very deep bond. He pressed the call button, and a second later Dr Cox stuck his head round the door.
"Ah Sam, you're awake again. What can I get you?" he asked.
"Could you phone my brother please? I want to talk to him." He said, and Cox nodded before vanishing.
Sam took a deep breath. A lot had happened over the last day or so. But, like their mom had said, if anyone could fix it, they could. But it wasn't going to be easy. So, Sam steeled himself for a wait, and hoped that Dean wouldn't let him down.
The penultimate chapter!
A lot of soul searching here, along with a visit from a few old friends. Don't worry, Ellen has still to make an appearance, she'll show up next chapter. I'm not so happy with this chapter as I was with the others, I can't figure out why. But I did enjoy Mary putting Lucifer in his place, I really liked it when he was described as nothing more than a spoiled brat in one of the episodes, I just cant remember which one it was.
And apologies to Dean fans but there are a few subtle digs at him in this chapter, he has been irritating me this season, for reasons discussed in chapter. But hopefully that will change with season eight.
Anyway, as always thank you for the lovely reviews (well done to babyreaper, who figured out Dillimore was from Grand Theft Auto), and I will hopefully finish this story tomorrow as we go through the aftermath of everything, and that'll be us.
But until then, please review!