Ashes, the Rain and I
Chapter 3
After Sam had calmed down from the initial shock of finding out about their father's death, the kid had looked drained and exhausted.
"Hey, uhm…" Dean started, scratching the back of his neck. "You must be hungry… want me to fix you something? I've been told to make some awesome Mac n' Cheese."
It was a weak attempt at a distraction, but Dean needed to make himself useful and the kid really did look like he could use to eat.
Who knows how long it had been since Sammy had had his last meal. Knowing his brother, the thought of eating probably hadn't even crossed his mind in the midst of what happened today.
Sam blinked up at Dean, wiping at his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. He bit his lower lip in contemplation but before he could give an answer, his empty stomach decided to speak for him by growling loudly.
Dean snorted softly when Sam's eyes flickered down in a flash of panicked embarrassment at the involuntary sound. For some reason his brother had always been unreasonably bashful about stuff like that, even around his family.
"Guess that means you're up for some grub…"
Dean moved to get off the bed, but Sam's bony hand shot out to hold him back. "No, wait. You shouldn't be up, Dean. I just sewed you back together, remember?"
"I'm fine," Dean gave back, hiding his wince as he pushed up from the mattress and grabbed the remote for the TV from his nightstand.
"Dean…" Sam sighed, reluctantly letting go of Dean's arm as the older man straightened up from the bed. "You really shouldn't put strain on that leg—"
"Spare me, Samantha. You know I'll only go stir crazy being hauled up in bed all day… besides, you're gonna need to get some food into you if you wanna grow to the size of a giraffe."
Sam's lips twitched into a weak smile at that. "You're just jealous 'cause I'm gonna be taller than you."
"Right..." Dean snorted as he hobbled towards the small kitchenette of their motel room.
It had been the only vacant room the motel clerk had left and Dean had been kind of pissed over having to pay for an extra big room he didn't need until he had discovered that the place came with a small stove and some cupboards.
He sorted through his duffle and let out a victorious sound when his searching hands wrapped around a can of red beans and a half-finished box of Mac'N'Cheese in one of the many side pockets.
He and Sam never usually cooked their own meals but they always kept a small stash of processed food in case they ever had to spend the night in the woods or in some secluded cabin.
They both preferred to get take-out food when they had the chance but taking precautions was never a bad thing.
A habit that proved to be quite useful once more as Dean started to sort through the cabinets in search for a small frying pan. They didn't have milk, but that had never been a problem before. Dean used to make due with water most of the time, even when they were still kids. It didn't turn out quite as creamy as it did when prepared with milk, but it would fill Sammy's stomach no less. And right now, a warm meal was exactly was his little brother needed.
"So uhm…" Sam had appeared next to Dean in the kitchenette, biting his lower lip as he stared down at the floor as if deeply lost in thought.
"What?" Dean asked, stirring the macaroni with practiced moves. Something was bothering his little brother and Dean was determined to get behind whatever had the kid's stomach in knots.
"Apart from what happened to dad… our lives are still pretty much the same then?" Sam's voice wavered a little when he talked and his fingers were idly playing with the sleeves of his oversized hoodie- a clear sign for nervousness. Sam still sometimes toyed with loose threads on his jeans when he breached a topic he dreaded or when he had to tell Dean something unpleasant.
Dean narrowed his eyes and added the cheese powder to the noodles in his pot, waiting patiently for Sam to go on.
"I mean… we're still hunting, right? A-and living on the road… we never actually got to settle down? You know… like in a house or something? Or… go do something else? Like… like school or something?"
The teenager was rambling. Another nervous tick he had. Because hell knew, the kid could make a good point if he wanted to, but when feeling insecure or nervous Sammy could talk up a storm without making a lick of sense.
Dean sighed, taking the macaroni off the stove and shutting of the heat before facing the fourteen-year-old. No matter whether Sam was making sense or not, Dean knew how to read his kid. He's had a lifetime of practice, after all.
"You mean like going to college."
It wasn't a question. Dean knew his brother and he knew that Sam had started thinking about getting an education at an early stage in his life. Must have happened somewhere in his teens for sure. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam had dreamed of the white-picket-fence life for far longer than he or their dad had ever given him credit for.
And to take a peek at his future-life and find out that none of his dreams had become reality and that he is in fact- pretty much bound to live a life as a hunter forever, never settling down, never finding a wife or getting kids and never leading the 'normal' life he craved so much- now, that was a tough pill to swallow.
Dean wasn't sure if he would be able to deliver that final blow and essentially crush all of his brother's hopes and dreams under his little finger, so he served Sam a portion of steaming Macaroni instead and pressed it into the kid's hands. "Sit down and eat."
Sam's shoulders slumped and the plate began to waver in his hands- obviously the boy had taken Dean's silence as an affirmation to his earlier question.
Dean's heart clenched painfully at the way Sam's eyes turned glassy with unshed tears as he mechanically trotted over to the kitchen table and flopped down into a heap of misery.
Sighing heavily, Dean wiped the back of his hand across his lips."Listen…" he started, not really sure where he was going with this, but realizing that he couldn't let a young Sam know how crappy their lives would turn out to be. Because sometimes hope was the only thing they had left in a world as dark as theirs and maybe they needed to cling to that in order to survive.
Sam looked up, blinking rapidly.
"You did go to college, alright?" Dean said, because this was the easiest part- he didn't even have to lie about that one. Sammy had been to college after all, even if it wasn't for long.
Sam's eyes widened in surprise and hopefulness. "I did?" he asked incredulously.
Dean nodded, opening the can of beans and fixing his own dinner with disinterest.
"Yeah. That ginormous brain of yours got you into Stanford. Full ride. You packed your things and left as soon as you got the acceptance letter."
Dean tried to keep his voice void of emotion, but the words were still tainted with bitterness, the memories of Sam's departure painting a vivid picture of misery in his mind.
He tried to swallow past his own hurt, knowing that this was important for his little brother- knowing that Sam himself had never thought back to that day with anything but longing and a sense of freedom, whereas Dean had tried to bury the memories of Sam's departure in the darkest corners of his mind.
Sam sucked in a shocked breath, visibly tensing in his seat as he took in what Dean had just disclosed.
Food forgotten, Sam bestowed his big brother with a wide-eyed look.
"But… the hunt—"
Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Don't act so surprised, Sammy. You always hated hunting anyway…"
Sam's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, but what about you guys, I mean did dad—"
"Dad was proud of you," Dean cut his brother off, unwilling to tell the kid anything about the big fallout between him and their father. Because the last thing Sam needed was to know about the 'walk out that door and never come back' ultimatum he had been faced with on the day he had left them. And neither did he need to know about how their small family had broken apart that night or about how Sam and him hadn't talked for years afterwards (and probably still wouldn't be talking if it hadn't been for their Dad's disappearance…)
Dean swallowed at the thought, throat closing around an invisible lump.
A picture of Jessica flashed before his mind's eye, gold locks and huge smile, Sam walking up behind her to wrap his arms around her rounded belly, the laughter of two other children filling the air as they chase each other through the front yard of a big house.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the images of what Sam's future might have looked like away. There was no sense in dwelling in the past.
His brother would never get to do any of that. Jessica was dead. And so was their hope for a better life.
"He didn't take it well, did he?" Sam suddenly piped up, causing Dean's mind to snap back to reality.
Sam must have realized that their dad would never approve of him going to college, despite Dean's best efforts to keep the truth hidden from his younger sibling. The kid had always been able to see straight through Dean's bullshit.
"No," Dean sighed. "He didn't. But that doesn't mean he wasn't proud of you, Sammy… you know dad always had a crappy way of showing it."
Sam nodded, pecking listlessly at his food.
Dean shut off the stove plate and grabbed a bowl of beans for himself, sitting down on the stool beside Sam and lightly bumping the kid's knee with his own.
"What did I study?" Sam asked after a beat "You went to law school," Dean offered up a soft smile. "Got a decent job at the library, met a beautiful girl, got an apartment and a bunch of close friends. You made it, Sammy."
Of course, Dean didn't bother to mention that Sam had not only had all that- but that he lost it again the next second… There was no way he would ever want to erase that glimmer of happiness from his little brother's face after what he had just told him.
Sam took a forkful of his dinner, the positive news having revived his appetite. "So… if I made it out of the hunting life- how come my 32-year-old self is on the road with you?"
Dean almost choked on his food, eyes widening slightly at his brother's question. Yeah, why was Sam still on the road with him, when he had wanted nothing but get away from the hunting life since he was old enough to think. Wasn't that the million dollar question?
"Uhm… I called you, because I needed help on a case, and now with Dad gone…" Dean quickly made up, keeping his face carefully blank and his eyes on the bowl in front of him as to not let anything on. "You took a few days off from work and met me here."
"Oh," Sam chewed on his food, mulling things over in his head. "I guess that makes sense."
He didn't look all too convinced, but Dean was tired of trying to explain things and there were other things they needed to focus on as well. Like getting Sammy back to his own timeline and finding out about what happened to 36-year-old Sam.
And dear lord, that still hadn't stopped sounding weird to his ears.
"So… " Dean started, shoving his empty plate away. "That yellow flower I found by the dumpster behind that dive bar? It's called yarrow. It's often used for spells and incantations…"
Sam's head piped up at that and Dean instantly noticed the flicker of recognition in his little brother's face.
"You've seen it before?" he probed gently, finishing the rest of his beans.
"More like… read about it in a book."
Dean snorted softly at that.
Only his geek of a brother would find interest in books about flowers, while every other four-teen-year old in the world spent their free time playing soccer or stealing glances at hidden porn mags.
"So you're into gardening now?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, eliciting another bitchy look from his brother.
"Do you want me to tell you about it, or not?"
Dean raised his palms in surrender. "Go on, I'm all ears…"
Sam sighed, getting up from his seat and carrying their empty bowls to the sink. "I don't know much about it, just that it is said to have healing powers. You remember Homer's Illiad?"
Dean blinked up at Sam as if he had grown a second head. "What's that like a reference to The Simpso—"
"Don't finish that," Sam hastily cut him off, looking ten kinds of annoyed as he bestowed Dean with his best glower of disappointed annoyance. "Common knowledge, Dean, seriously…"
Dean shrugged and Sam let out an exasperated sigh before continuing. "It's one of the most famous historic poems from the ancient Greek, describing the battles and events taking place during the Trojan War between the city of Troy and the Greek state."
"Okay, seriously—" Dean cut in from the side, whole face scrunched up in disbelief. "You are mad that I don't know that?! You only just said one sentence and I'm already bored out of my mind. What in the world would go make you read something like that at age 14?"
Sam's bitch-face became more pronounced as he narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
"It's called classic literature, Dean. Something that wouldn't hurt you, if you ever bothered to go to school—"
"Yeah well, guess it's a little too late for that now," Dean shot back heatedly, annoyed by his brother's disrespectful accusation.
This was certainly something he hadn't missed about Sam's younger self. The constant nagging about going to school and finishing his GED had been more than exhausting when they were still in their teens and Sam had still tried to convince Dean of the importance of a solid education. And Dean would never admit it, but it had always kinda hurt him to hear Sam's jibes about how he missed out in the brain department.
Dean wasn't stupid, he just had always known that school wouldn't get him anywhere with the life they were leading. It hadn't bothered him to come off as uneducated to his classmates or teachers, because he had never given anything about what other people thought about him, anyways.
But he had always wanted to be looked up to by his little brother and Sam had made it pretty clear during his puberty that if anything- there was more reason to be ashamed of his dumb, spineless grunt of a brother, than to be aspired and looked up to.
That was a painful realization.
And even today, Dean sometimes had to struggle with the way Sam would look at him whenever Dean didn't know something that was apparently considered 'common knowledge' and made a fool of himself.
Guess he couldn't really hold a candle to the kid who had gotten a full ride to an Ivy League school before his 18th birthday.
No wonder his brother was ashamed of him.
Sam studied the way Dean's eyes would fall to the ground in silence, shoulders sinking and face growing somber and let out a sigh of his own, feeling guilty for having put that defeated look on his older brother's face.
"Dean…" Sam meekly approached the older man, looking genuinely stricken over having hurt his brother's feelings. "I didn't mean anything by it—"
"I'm not a total deadbeat, you know?" Dean lifted his chin a little in defiance, jaw clenched and shoulders tensing again, as if he expected Sam to fight him on that.
Sam sucked in his lower lip, eyes widening slightly as he shook his head. "Dean… I know that."
"Yeah, whatever," Dean interfered harshly, not letting his brother finish.
That annoying itch was back and this time he couldn't stop his hand from shooting out to wrap around the pulsating mark on his forearm. For a second he had to close his eyes against the burst of unreasonable rage that flooded his body, before he finally reined in his composure.
"Can we get back to that goddamned flower, now?" he snapped in a clipped voice that came out much harsher than he wanted. "I'd like to get my real brother back before I end up getting stuck with you."
A flash of hurt crossed Sam's young features and he recoiled from the words.
Dean was a little stunned at his own outburst, instantly feeling guilty for his choice of words when he saw Sam's shocked expression.
But just as suddenly as it had come, the hurt on Sam's face morphed into a careful mask of indifference— hiding their pain away from the outside world had been an early lesson during their childhood.
Dean expected Sam to snap back at him, but when he was met with nothing but silence, he knew his words had truly hit home.
Because Sammy might have been only 14-years old right now, but that didn't mean he was any less of his little brother than 32-year-old Sam had been.
They were essentially the same person. And Dean had more or less just told him he couldn't wait to get rid of him again.
"Look," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubble. "I'm sorr—"
"Save it," Sam cut him off, not meeting Dean's gaze. He had a glimmer of sadness in his eyes and Dean felt like an asshole for having put it there.
"From what I remember, Yarrow commonly appears in Europe," Sam recited after a moment of silence. "Especially colder regions like the German Blackwoods and Alps. That's also why it is often used for scenic descriptions in the old German fairytales and fables… In antiquity it was said to have healing powers- Achilles used it to stop the blood flow from his wounded heel."
Dean stared at Sam with a hint of admiration, despite the tension filling the air between them.
He wasn't resentful towards Sam for being so damn' clever, just the opposite was true, actually.
Dean was proud- and had always been proud of his little brother's achievements- both on an academic level, but also in terms of hunting.
Pride and happiness filled his heart whenever his genius of a brother put that ginormous brain to use and Dean even felt a little smug about having raised such a smart kid when he was barely more than a teen himself back then.
He just didn't deal well with the fact that his brother was looking down on him for not being a walking and talking encyclopedia of random facts and human knowledge like Sam was himself.
Letting out a breath, Dean gave the mark on his arm a final squeeze, quenching the fire in his soul, before nodding and getting up from his seat.
"Alright, that's a good start for our research," he said, hobbling over to the twin bed closest to the door and grabbing his discarded jacket from the floor.
"Where do you think you're going?" Sam demanded, crossing his bony arms in front of his chest.
Dean ignored him as he sat down to put on his boots and then moved to grab his gun from the nightstand.
"Dean!" Sam insisted, growing more impatient.
"Relax. We're just going to pay the local library a brief visit. Find out more about these German fables and the ancient Greek stuff… maybe there's something useful to get us on the right track."
Sam opened his mouth in protest- already wracking his brain for the most effective way to talk Dean out of his plan, but then he seemed to think better of it and relented.
"Alright," he breathed. "I'll do it."
Dean didn't understand what his brother was saying at first and just continued to gather his stuff, until Sam snatched the keys to the Impala from his loose hold in a moment of distraction. "Hey! What—"
"I said, I'm going. Me as in 'not-you' because you were shot in the leg not even 4 hours ago and I won't sew you back together two times in one night."
"Okay, that's it," Dean decided, having had enough of his brother's bossy attitude.
His hand quickly shot out to wrest the keys away from Sam.
"I know you think you're all tough and grown-up and that gives you the right to order me around like a sick puppy that needs to be put in its place, but fact is- you're nothing but a fourteen-year-old kid and that makes me the one to call the fucking shots, here."
Dean's whole posture was radiating authority and he couldn't remember a single moment in their lives where Sam had looked at him with as much confusion and fear in his eyes as he did in that second.
But Dean didn't care. He just kept going.
"I might not have a fucking college degree, Sam—" he continued heatedly, causing the boy's eyes to widen even farther and his lips to wobble.
The fact that he had used 'Sam' instead of the loving nickname 'Sammy' didn't go unnoticed by the younger boy.
"But I'm a grown ass hunter who's got to carry the weight of about 36-years worth of crap on his shoulders and I've been through things that you can't even imagine in your wildest nightmares, so if I say that I'm up for a fucking drive to the library, then you will follow my goddamn' lead without giving me lip about it, understood?"
Dean's breathing was heavy when he ended his rant, heart thundering loudly in his chest.
But it wasn't until he consciously looked down at the dumbfounded look on his younger brother's face that he became aware of just how much he had messed up.
Sam's eyes were wide and unblinking, his shoulders drawn up almost protectively as he stared up at Dean with frightened eyes.
"What happened to you?" Sam pressed out in an appalled whisper. "I don't even know you anymore..."
And with that he stormed outside the motel room, not giving Dean the chance for a response.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and swore under his breath, angry at himself for not having had a better grasp on his emotions.
Why the hell did he have to blow up into the kids face like that?
After all, Sammy had only tried to watch out for him and keep him from hurting himself.
Sighing, he looked down at his trembling arm, knowing exactly what had caused this unwanted outburst. The mark was zapping his energy resources, weakening him from the inside out and making him more prone to the constant vibes of aggression pulsating through his veins.
It was getting stronger.
And Sammy wasn't safe to stay around him while Dean had no real control over his own actions and emotions. Especially not in his younger and weaker state now that he was nothing but a freaking kid.
God, this whole thing was so messed up.
Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and turned to leave the room.
They needed to get behind whatever the hell was going on, before Dean would do more than just scream at Sammy.
Hobbling outside to where the Impala was parked in front of their room, Dean found Sam sitting on the passenger seat, not even sparing him a glance as he settled behind the steering wheel of the classic Chevy.
Dean pulled the door closed with a rusty squeak before letting out a heavy sigh.
"I didn't mean to yell at you," he stated softly, willing to set things straight between his little brother and himself.
Sam sniffed but didn't turn around to look at him.
"You were right, you know?" the teen said after a beat.
"Right about what?" Dean frowned.
Sam sent him a fleeting glance over his bony shoulder.
"About getting me back to where I came from," he explained. "I don't think I want to get stuck with you either… you are nothing like the Dean I know..."
Dean swallowed down the hurt that came from the punch Sam's words packed and fired up the engine.
Sam might have said the words to hurt him, but the kid had no idea how right he actually was.
Because deep inside, Dean knew that there was only very little left of the indestructible bond he used to share with his brother when they were younger.
Sure, they were back to normal now- talking to each other, working cases and pretending everything was all fine and dandy.
But the truth was, their relationship felt strained and worn out after everything that had happened during the past 10 years and Dean was pretty sure that the Mark of Cain was going to deliver the final blow that would annihilate whatever was left of their brotherhood eventually if they didn't find a way to get rid of it soon.
He only hoped that when it came to that final blowout, Sam would walk away a free man- free of the Winchester burden and even more importantly- free of Dean.
So that Sam could have a shot at that shiny future at last, one in which his brother didn't play an active role… one where Dean would no longer pose a threat to Sam's happiness.
Ignoring the way his heart clenched in his chest, Dean eased the Impala onto the road.
Then he took a deep breath, steeling himself for an uncomfortable trip to the library.
TBC...
Hey guys, I'm back :) Sorry for the overall gloominess of this chapter... Will the boys be able to work things out? I promise some hurt!Sam and Protective!BigBro!Dean in the upcoming chapter. Thanks for all the inspiring ideas, I will definitely put them to use at some point. Reviews are love! :D