A/N: I heartily apologize for the loooong delay in posting this. RL hit me with a slew of distractions since Chap 20 was posted, including a close family member with an unexpected and ongoing health emergency, a different death in the family and all of the attendant uproar, two trips out of town, a huge increase in family activity, and a 4 alarm fire that killed two days for me. And then there's the fact that I was having a really tough time figuring out what I wanted to say in this chapter.
You know how I feel about the reviews, and I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I will try to address them all as time allows. But since I haven't been able to answer them yet I just want to take a second to address some common thoughts. (You know me, I always like to discuss my reasoning with ya'll. LOL) I agree wholeheartedly that the Winchester world would be a better place if there were no secrets. Hallelujah and Amen to that. So yeah, Chap 20 killed me too. BUT—I've always tried to stick to canon as much as possible, especially things that canon is crystal clear about. And it is crystal clear that Dean consciously thought the only good supernatural creature was a dead supernatural creature until Season 2's "Bloodlust". So my choices were to either use the fae's ability to wipe a memory on Dean, or to never let Dean find about the fae. And where would the fun have been in that? LOL As far as Sam being involved in the fae's actions—if they had done it without Sam's permission it would have destroyed his trust in them. And that continued trust is essential. *cough*for the sequel*cough*
This chapter picks up exactly where Chapter 20 left off. It's kind of long. I hope that makes up a bit for the inexcusable delay.
Warning: Cursing, cursing, and more cursing.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. The incredible fun of playing with them is the only profit I receive from the story
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
From Chapter 20:
He'd watched Dean all night. Even after they had both been protected by the light fae during the fight, after they'd both been saved by the light fae, Dean had looked torn. Shit, torn didn't cover it. He'd looked broken. It had been in the way he stood, the way he moved, and written all over his face for Sam to see. It was killing Dean, and Sam was the only one who could make it better.
Dean had been sacrificing things for Sam their whole lives. It was time for Sam to make a sacrifice.
He raised his head and gave a firm nod. "Yeah, I did the right thing."
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
Chapter 21 Just Trying To Find My Way
He raised his head and gave a firm nod. "Yeah, I did the right thing."
If he reminded himself of that enough times he might even learn how to live with it. Someday.
He shifted position and leaned forward to carefully slip the fae made necklace over Dean's head, placing it into his pocket along with his own. He would find a way to give it to Dean, a reason for his brother to keep it with his things. Every little bit of protection had to help. For all he knew it was the necklaces that had spurred the hounds to come to their aid.
The bruised ribs in his back made their presence known when he tried to straighten up and he bit off a gasp. He clamped his arm against his side and edged slightly away when Titaniea reached out to help him. "I'm fine."
She sat back and scowled at him. "I begin to understand your brother's displeasure with that phrase." Her green eyes examined him for a moment. "You are not 'fine'. You still doubt your choice."
"There was no choice," Sam snapped. Choice had been taken out of his hands the moment Jenny bit his wrist. "Dean would have never spilled everything to Dad. There were only two ways it could have gone after Dean found out about you and our connection. Either Dean lived with betraying Dad…or I lived with betraying Dean." A betrayal that he prayed would never hurt Dean, because Dean would never know about it.
"Would it have been your wish that he never learned about us? That we had allowed you to die?"
He actually had to think about it for a second before sighing softly. "No. If I'd died Dean would have blamed himself. Dad too." After the harsh words that had been said the loss would have destroyed both men.
"It was not your choice that your brother learn of us. It was not your teaching that caused him to distrust us. You had no true hand in causing your brother's pain over this…and yet you took that pain onto yourself. Were your actions not a good thing?" Her forehead creased in confusion. "I do not understand the need of some mortals to find failure in their own actions."
"Family tradition," Sam muttered.
His gaze dropped to Dean's face and his expression softened. Dean looked like Dean again. Even in sleep a hint of that superior smirk was there. He looked free again, confident in his beliefs of what was right and what was wrong. Hell, he looked ready to jump up and kick some butt. Sam had to believe that a solution that made his brother look like that again, that left him with memories of nothing but an adventure, was the right thing to do.
Titaniea interrupted his silent thoughts with a soft hand on his arm and he turned pink with embarrassment. His fingers had been lightly stroking through Dean's hair without him even realizing it. He yanked his hand back with a quick laugh, Dean's voice an outraged howl in his head. Dude! Do I look like Lassie to you? Stop petting me!
"The ointment must be wiped from his eyes before he wakes." She handed him a small velvety cloth, slightly damp under his fingertips. He hesitated with the moistened scrap of material in his hand. "It is just water," she assured him.
She watched as he gently tilted Dean's head and wiped softly over his eyes. "I may not understand why you feel as you do, but I wish that you could have been spared this. When my people needed a champion you stood for us, and we are grateful. Your actions impact far more than you know."
Sam handed the cloth back to her and pulled a bandana from his own pocket, using it to blot the blood on Dean's temple and the streaks that had run down the side of his face. His brother looked so young. The force of his need to protect the man in front of him shocked Sam. It was usually the other way around, but now it was on him to look out for his brother.
"You know, he figured out there was a lot more going on here than you've told us. He wanted some answers from you." He twisted his fingers into Dean's shirt, holding tight to his brother, and fixed her with a steady stare. "And now I want the answers. He and I both deserve that."
Titaniea remained kneeling next to him, but she drew herself up ramrod straight. Even without the crown that had been set aside before the hunt, she looked every inch a powerful queen. Her eyes flashed a cold green. "You and I shall talk. There are things that you need to know."
She glanced at the woods around them and then rose gracefully to her feet. She towered over him, but he didn't feel intimidated. He had a feeling the return of her regal manner was a reaction to the importance of the knowledge that she carried and not to his demand for answers. "You have my word, my beautiful Sam Winchester, we will talk," she promised. "But not now. There is danger in the words I will speak, and great care must be taken in the time and place of the telling."
There was movement under Sam's hand and his eyes flew to Dean's face. His brother gave a low groan and Sam couldn't stop his small relieved smile. It wasn't a sound of pain, it was one of Dean's 'I don't want to wake up yet' noises. "You'd better—"
The words froze in his throat as he looked around. He was alone in the clearing, the only evidence of the night's events the small bodies scattered around them.
Sam released his tight grip on the soft shirt but left his hand on Dean's chest. His thumb rubbed small circles over his brother's heart. "Hey, Dean…c'mon man…wake up…"
"Five more minutes…" It was a low mumble, but it was classic Dean.
Sam's lips twitched upwards. "I'm not your snooze button, dude. Time to wake up."
"Wha…what happened?" Dean was blinking up at him, the skin around his eyes working as he tried to focus.
"Guess you hit your head a little harder than we thought." He stumbled over the words a bit and then held his breath as he waited for Dean's response. Part of him expected to see his brother's eyes narrow in anger and hatred, remembering everything. And Sam's part in it.
Dean lifted his hand and pressed his fingers into the skin around the bruise on his temple before giving a little shrug. "Huh. It hardly hurts."
His eyes skimmed the ring of trees surrounding them as though he was getting his bearings before focusing on Sam. "You okay? You took a pretty good hit." His face scrunched into a look of concentration for a moment. "I checked your ribs, didn't I? Bruised?" He didn't wait for Sam to confirm before his eyes widened. "Shit, you were wheezing too. I want to get you back to the cabin. Did you call Dad yet and tell him what happened?"
He didn't wait for an answer before pushing himself to sit up, slapping Sam's hands away when he tried to help. His eyes traced over the ground around them and he crowed softly in delight. "Man, I haven't had that much fun in ages! We smoked their creepy little butts!"
The smile on Sam's face froze in place, the skin around it tight and uncomfortable. "Yeah, we did," he forced out. The confirmation that Dean did not truly remember the last couple of days broke him into pieces. He wrapped his arm tightly around his ribs, trying to hold the broken bits inside.
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
The timeworn planks of the cabin's wooden floor were warm under Sam's feet as he shuffled down the hallway. His old sweats hung low on his hips, the waistband purposely cinched well below the new bruise that graced his back. He'd stiffened up during the night and he was willing to trade his right arm for a cup of coffee and a couple of Advil.
He'd slept like shit. Check that one off the FAQ list. Stress definitely could send the irritated tissues of his lungs into spasm. Listening to Dean regale Dad with their adventure of chasing the will 'o wisps right into a waiting group of spriggans in the woods? Not exactly a calming experience.
Sam had spent the whole time waiting for Dean to stumble, for his recitation to stall in confusion. But it had been flawless. And with each word Sam had sunk deeper into his seat, his chest heavier and heavier. By the time Dad had pulled up at the cabin his breathing had been reduced to a series of painful wheezes.
The little home nebulizer that had been a parting gift from the hospital had done the trick, but it had come at the cost of another round of chemically induced hyperactivity. Being wide awake did have its uses, though. Because of his 'head injury' someone had to be available to wake Dean every hour after Dad left to meet up with Travis at Ane's field.
The side effects of the albuterol had started to wear off by the time John stumbled through the door hours later, stinking of rancid smoke. He'd given Sam a deliberate nod of acknowledgement and Sam got the message. After examining the bodies Dad was proud of his boys and the battle they'd won.
It slammed into Sam that he'd truly shouldered all of Dean's load. He didn't just have what he'd done to Dean hanging over him, now he was the one who most keenly felt the guilt of betraying John.
It was a long time before Sam finally drifted into a troubled sleep.
Voices drifted down the hallway, along with the clink of silverware from the kitchen. Soft voices that erupted into Dean's little heard belly laugh and Dad's low chuckle. Sam froze in his tracks and turned to lean his forehead against the wall, tears stinging his eyes. For a while there he had doubted that he'd ever hear those sounds again. He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that a couple of weeks ago those same noises would probably have felt like a slap in the face to him. Just more evidence of a relationship that excluded him.
Maybe he'd grown up a bit. Because right now all he could feel was grateful that things were right between the two other men again.
He was greeted by Dean's bright smile when he finally made his way into the sunlit kitchen. "Hey Rip! Nice of you to join us!"
"How you feeling kiddo?" John placed a mug of coffee on the table in Sam's usual spot, two ibuprofen tablets sitting next to it. "Sit down. I want to get a look at your back."
Sam carefully lowered himself into the chair so that he was sitting sideways. He clenched his jaw, ready to hold in sounds that might try to escape when his dad examined the bruised area. To John, 'looking' usually involved a healthy amount of prodding.
Dean jumped out of his chair as his dad lifted Sam's Tshirt, coming to stand next to him. "Whoa Dude! It's in friggin technicolor!"
John poked and prodded, but Sam didn't think it was just his imagination that his father's touch was a little more careful than usual, a little gentler. "Any change in the pain? Any sign of blood in your urine?"
"No sir. I'm pretty stiff this morning, but the rest is about the same." Which was to say it still hurt like hell. Just SSDD in the world of Winchester.
Dean hovered next to him, and it took Sam a minute to realize that his brother was carefully listening to his breathing.
It was all breathtakingly normal. Well, for them. Like it had been a hundred times before when Sam was sick or hurt growing up. There was no undercurrent from the two other men of secrets or lies or anger over mistakes made. With the secret gone Dean had obviously let go of his anger with John.
Dean plopped a plate of eggs in front of him and Sam kept his head down, just listening to the conversation that flowed around him while he ate. Dad and Dean laughing over stories Travis had told John and their regrets that the boys never got to see him this trip, planning errands the two could run while they picked up the Impala, talking about setting up the new garage for Phil. They didn't seem to mind when Sam sidestepped their attempts to include him, sliding smoothly back into a two man conversation. They were making up for lost time, washing away their brief estrangement with easy jokes and laughter.
Sam could live with taking everything onto his own shoulders if it meant giving Dean his dad back.
He wasn't a fool, he knew that they were in a honeymoon phase. All of them forgetting the normal strains and tensions that stalked their lives, being overly solicitous to each other because they were so happy to survive their latest trauma. The cause of the good feelings didn't matter. Sam intended to enjoy them for as long as they lasted.
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
The signs that the honeymoon was drawing to a close didn't start until almost a week after the battle with the spriggans. He knew Dad was just being super cautious because of fear, but insisting that Sam be within arm's reach of the nebulizer for at least a week? Can you say 'overkill'?
And refusing to even look up from the newspaper as he issued a blank 'no' after 'no' as Sam pleaded his case…no explanation, no discussion… It was like he was purposely pushing Sam's buttons.
"Just a quick trip into town. An hour! Two tops!" He hated that his voice was rising, that he sounded like a spoiled toddler. But he'd been trying to get his dad to put down the damned newspaper and talk to him for over twenty minutes.
"Calm down before you trigger another one of those attacks." There was at least a little bit more 'oomph' to the words this time. Something beyond the bland and carefully controlled responses he'd gotten so far.
Fine. If raising his voice was what finally got a reaction out of the man then he'd yell the friggin house down. Why couldn't his dad just listen to him for once?
"Dad, this is ridiculous! Why can't Eric come pick me up? It took more effort for me to clean out and reorganize the supply closet yesterday, and fix the back steps today, than it's going to take for me to walk around town for a couple of hours, and you didn't have any problem with telling me to do that stuff! Why is it just the stuff that I want to do that's 'too much'?"
John folded the newspaper and carefully placed it on the table in front of him and Sam's breath caught. When Dad got slow and deliberate like that, with that pinched expression on his face, an explosion usually wasn't too far off. Sam had been pushing for a reaction, but he really hadn't meant to push that far. He looked to Dean for support but the shutters had come down over his brother's features and he kept his eyes locked on the magazine in his hand. His white knuckled grip denting the magazine pages kind of gave the game away, though.
"They were easy chores that needed to be done, Sam. I don't think it was asking too much to have you do some of the work around here." John's voice dripped with the kind of forced patience that grated on Sam's nerves at the best of times. "The medicine was right here if you needed it. You heard the doctor about being careful for a little while—and she doesn't even know about that damn hag's poison. We don't know how long its effects are going to hang on." He ended with a slight bite to his tone that Sam hadn't heard in over a week. "Going out to screw around with your friends just isn't worth the risk. Am I getting through to you here?"
Sam took a deep breath, trying to bring himself under control. "Dad, I'm going stir crazy. You two don't get it. You're out of here all day, while I'm stuck." He rushed to get more words out before John could issue another flat 'no'. "I'm not just going to be screwing around, I've got to switch out some books with Professor J too. I'm trying to keep up with my work for him." He was trying for calm and reasonable now, but he had a feeling his shift in gears was a little too late when he saw John's eyes narrow and the muscle in his jaw tightening.
"It's been less than a week since you sat in that very chair and couldn't breathe! It doesn't matter how many times you ask, Sam, I won't allow you to do something stupid and slow down your recovery!" Yeah, they were past the words just having a little bite to them. John's voice was hardening, the volume rising. "You've already lost enough time from train—"
"How about if I drive Sammy into town?" Dean offered as he jumped to his feet and threw the magazine onto the table. "He can pick up the books he needs and make a couple of other quick stops."
The interruption came just as their father's words sank in and Sam had to hold onto his own rising temper. All of the precautions were so that Sam could get back to training as soon as possible? No wonder Dean jumped in, before the illusion of a 'kinder, gentler' Dad could be shattered.
Didn't matter which one of them he was trying to protect, Dean forcefully cutting John off when the man was building to a rant was akin to jumping in front of a bullet. Sam held his breath, looking back and forth between the two men as his dad turned a harsh expression towards his brother.
Dean wilted a little and began to blush under the force of John's stare, but he held his ground and returned John's look with a determined one of his own. "I'll keep an eye on him and we won't be gone long. I know what to look for, and at the first sign he's having a problem I'll get him back here." He shot Sam a sideways look and anger tightened the skin around his mouth for a second. "And he'll promise to stop whining for the rest of the week."
John scowled and looked down at the table, running his hand over his face. His shoulders slowly lowered into a more relaxed position and he gave a little nod. "Alright. If you're keeping an eye on him." He looked up and locked eyes with Dean.
Sam had seen it before. The two of them had an uncanny way of being able to communicate without saying a word. Something Sam would probably never share with them. For just a second he felt like that little kid with his face pressed to the outside of the toy store window.
When John continued his voice was quiet, but his tone sent a chill down Sam's back. "And Dean, in the future I'd think very carefully before jumping into the middle of an issue that is between your brother and I."
Dean straightened up again and returned John's nod. "Yes sir. And I will keep an eye on Sammy."
Shit. Sam got it. Dad's capitulation went right back to the mini Cold War the other two men had fought a couple of days ago. Dad was trying to avoid a repeat. It had only lasted a couple of days, but it had hurt both men.
"Okay then," John said, standing up and turning to walk out of the kitchen. "I expect the two of you back here by nine. Remember we've got to get in to the shop early again tomorrow." He left without another word and Sam let out a sigh of relief.
Dean's eyes dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable.
"Thanks man," Sam offered. He couldn't help the tinge of happiness in his voice. Even if it was only a couple of hours, getting sprung from jail was a beautiful thing. "I just—"
It was Dean's night for interruptions. "Get your stuff and let's go," he bit out before stalking out of the kitchen.
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
The temperature in the interior of the Impala was about twenty degrees cooler than the pleasant evening they were driving through, waves of cold practically radiating from Dean's tense form.
Sam kept his head down, watching his own fingers play with the hem of his Tshirt. He'd just wanted to get out of the cabin for a while, not cause a new ice age. "I'm sorry, dude," he finally sighed. "I didn't mean to put you in the middle, I just had to get out for a while and Dad—"
"That wasn't Dad. That was you."
Damn, his brother was going for a new record with not letting people get their words out. "How can you say that? He wouldn't even look at me. He wouldn't even talk to me about it so we could work something out."
"You've known the man a lot of years, Sam. Has he ever been willing to talk when you're whining about something and pushing him? So did you honestly think that would work tonight?" He shot a sideways glance at Sam, his eyebrows lifted. "When you were in the hospital I told you I'd have your back from now on because us beating each other up instead of talking almost got you killed. And you know what, dude? Dad gets that. He's trying, Sam. Are you? Because from where I was sitting, you picked that fight. You practically begged for it."
Sam sank deeper into the seat at Dean's angry words, trying to think of a way to defend himself without pissing Dean off even more. Didn't Dean see it? The way Dad was pushing his buttons? His mouth dropped open at Dean's next words.
"You started to push his buttons from the moment you opened your mouth Sam. I was amazed he didn't blast you way before he did. He's trying Sam, but you just can't let it go."
"I'm sorry Dean. I just got caught up in what I wanted. I wasn't thinking," Sam apologized quietly.
"Yeah? I call bullshit," Dean stated calmly.
Sam's eyes widened and he swiveled to face Dean.
"You forgetting how well I know you? You're my little brother, man. I've seen you with your friends, with people we need information from on hunts. You're good at it when you want to be. Figuring out how to get to people." He shook his head when Sam opened his mouth to protest. "I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes," he muttered.
If he thought he had a chance in hell that Dean would agree to it, he'd ask his brother to pull over and let him out to walk. His eyes darted around the car as though looking for an escape. A part of him he didn't recognize didn't want to hear whatever it was that his brother had to say.
Dean leaned back in his seat, his right arm draped casually over the steering wheel as he drove. He was quiet for a couple of minutes, his eyes making constant forays away from the road to examine Sam until he finally started shaking his head again. "You don't even realize you're doing it, do you?" he asked sadly. "Couldn't you see it? The way you were pushing Dad back there? Christ Sam, you kept it up even when you'd have to be an idiot not to see where things were heading. And you're no idiot."
Sam lowered his head and began rubbing his eyes. "Dean, I didn't…I just…"
"You're too damned smart not to have known when you reached the point of no return, and you just kept going until Dad finally started to lose it. Until he finally said something stupid that made it sound like the hunt was more important than you."
Sam couldn't meet his brother's eyes. He wanted more than anything to just cover his ears and start humming. Not gonna listen. No sir.
"You know…you know…that when you push him hard enough Dad's default setting is to make it sound like the hunt is everything. Like it's the most important thing. Do you actually believe that? You didn't see him in the waiting room when we were talking to the doctor. He was broken, man." Dean went silent for a few seconds, lost in his thoughts, and Sam held his breath, waiting for the rest of it. He didn't have to wait long.
"I don't know, are you trying to punish us for the way we acted before you got hurt? Cause that's bush league bullshit, man." His words were quiet and thoughtful, forcing Sam to listen. "I admit, Dad and I really screwed up. We were both bastards. But you were no lily white innocent. You turned 'Dad baiting' into an art form. And now? Since it hit the fan? It's all you, dude. Dad's trying, and you're still giving him shit."
"I just went through a couple of days where I practically hated Dad because of the things that happened. I don't want to go back to that, Sam. I can't go back to that." Pain twisted Dean's features for a second before he brought it under control and his expression smoothed. "You're my little brother and I meant what I said in the hospital. I will always have your back. I will always be there when you need me. But I'm asking you not to do that to me, Sam. Don't use the promise I made to pull me into fights that you started."
He wanted to be mad. He wanted to build up a healthy rage over being so misunderstood. But the thought came back to him that at some point over the last couple of weeks he must have grown up a bit, because he just couldn't find any anger in him. Not when he realized that Dean might be right.
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
The last of the huge crowds finally drifted away the day after the two week festival came to a close, and Sam was able to get a table at the coffeehouse without waiting. Conversation and clinking plates were just a dull hum in his ears, his mind a thousand miles away.
He jumped when a plate and coffee mug were dropped onto his table and Eric pulled out the chair across from him.
"And what has Samwise glaring at his coffee like it is Gollum reincarnated?" Eric asked, his head tilted to the side and his face locked into a picture of solemnity.
"You really are a geek. You know that, right?" Sam chuckled.
"Ever heard of Bill Gates?" the lanky teen asked as he sat down. "The geeks are inheriting the Earth, dude." His face twisted for a second. "Although the way things are right now I'm not sure we want it." His expression smoothed and he gave a little shrug before reaching forward to pull a chunk out of the huge cookie on his plate. He sat back in the chair, his eyes taking in Sam's slumped form. "And stop avoiding the question. What's the matter?"
"Where's Justin? I thought he was gonna chill with us for a while," Sam swiveled to look around the shop, carefully ignoring his friend's concern.
"He dropped me off and headed home. He's gotta get ready for family night," Eric smirked. "You should hear him bitching about how his whole family has been tripping on togetherness ever since the thing with Joey at the lake. I'm telling you dude, it's scary. They're turning into a cult or something." Eric gave an exaggerated shudder. "He said the day they try to shave his head and put him in a long robe he's bailing. You are so lucky your family didn't turn into freakazoids like his over the whole thing."
Sam gave a soft snort and immediately kicked himself when Eric's eyes narrowed and fixed on him again. "So whatever is going on has to do with your family? You might as well tell me. You know I'm like a pit bull. I'm not letting go until you spill." A slow smile spread over his face and Sam swallowed dryly at the evil look of it. "And if you don't tell me I'll just call Kristi and have her get it out of you. She and I are buddies now." He puffed his chest out, obviously proud that the exalted Kristi McLachlan was now his friend.
"I knew it was a mistake letting you two get friendly," Sam muttered.
Eric dropped the evil grin and lifted his own coffee. "Seriously, dude, what's going on?"
"Nothing much," Sam answered quietly. "I just realized I'm an asshole."
"You're being serious, aren't you?" Eric put his arms on the table and leaned forward, cutting the distance between them. "So what happened to spark this sudden belief in your own assholery?"
Sam stayed silent, staring at the dark wood of the tabletop between them. Eric waited him out, patiently picking at his cookie and sipping coffee while Sam tried to organize his thoughts.
"My dad and I? We fight a lot," Sam started softly. Eric didn't move, but Sam felt the weight of his friend's full attention. "It can get pretty nasty sometimes."
Eric tensed, his fingers stilling with another bite of the cookie torn halfway off. "He…he doesn't…" He cleared his throat and Sam jumped in before he could finish the thought.
"He doesn't hit me, nothing like that. But if you listened sometimes I think it would sound like he hates me. At least…that's what I used to think." Sam lifted his coffee for a little sip. "I really believed that it was all him. That the fights were all his fault."
"You don't think that anymore?"
Sam shook his head slowly. "Dean said something a few days ago, and I tried to convince myself that he was wrong, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. And after this morning… Dad and I had another fight and this time I listened to myself. And I'm an asshole."
It had started simply enough. An old argument about scheduling special training over the weekend. But it had escalated and Sam found himself forgetting the lessons he had just learned about the value of his training. All he saw was John demanding that he cancel plans that had already been made, John trying to take away anything that was normal and safe in Sam's life. John trying to remake Sam in his own image.
The battle was just getting started, just getting nasty, when Sam saw Dean's face. It was painted with the pain and guilt of Dean feeling like he had to choose a side. Sam had just given away a piece of himself, and a piece of his brother, to wipe that same anguish off of Dean's face.
That was when he'd backed out of the argument, leaving John's mouth hanging open in surprise and Dean's face melting into a look of relief.
"When we started to get into it this morning I thought about what Dean said. That a lot of the time it's me doing it. He was freaking right. I picked the fight today. I lost it, man. You know? Like literally seeing red. Dad can get pretty harsh when he's mad but I saw it this morning—so can I. Man, I was ready to rip into him." He paused and scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the memory of the argument.
"And the one who really gets the short end of the stick when Dad and I go at it? My brother. It freaking kills him. And I know that, but I don't think I can stop." Sam's stomach twisted at the thought of the pain he seemed determined to heap on his brother. What kind of ass was he that he couldn't control the anger that being around John sparked in him? Even when he knew how much it hurt Dean?
"Over the past few months it feels like I'm always so frigging pissed off at my dad. I used to be able to let it go when he was being a dick, but now I just snap and it's on. God, there's times now he doesn't even have to say a thing. I instigate shit, man, I say stuff I don't mean just to provoke him. I can't control it. I don't want to be that person, dude, the one who tears their family apart instead of just growing the fuck up."
Sam broke off, his voice shaking. He grabbed his coffee and took a big gulp, wishing it had a shot of something stronger than caffeine in it.
Eric eyed him calmly, seemingly unfazed by Sam's confession. "Do you start this stuff because you want to hurt the two of them?"
Sam shook his head violently. "No. I just…I don't know. My dad wants me to do something, or harps about something, and I just feel like I'm going to explode. I just can't help it. And man, once I get started, I don't care who gets hurt—him, me, Dean—it doesn't matter."
"I got bad news for you, Sam. That's not you being an asshole. That's you being a teenager." Eric looked at him over the rim of his mug as he took a sip.
"You're a teenager and you're not like that with your parents," Sam scowled.
Eric snorted violently, the sip of coffee in his mouth spraying back into the mug. "Dude! Do you need glasses? I…" He trailed off, his eyes going wide. "Holy moley! No wonder my parents want you in the house all the time. Well, besides the fact they think you're more awesome than granola. The three of us don't battle when you're around! You're like our personal Gandhi or something!"
"But…your parents are great," Sam said softly.
"Yeah, I know, aren't they?" Eric grinned. He shrugged. "Doesn't matter man. Sometimes they get me so mad I can't see straight. It never gets as nasty as you're saying…I mean, this is George and Sharon we're talking about…but it's basically the same thing. Didn't you ever see it with other friends?"
Sam shook his head, looking away. He'd never had the kind of friends he had made in this town before. The kind where he got to know them well enough to actually know what it was like in their families. He'd never made it past the public face of someone else's home before.
Something must have shown in his expression because Eric's voice softened. "Dude, it's pretty normal. Sometimes I think it's worse the closer you are to your parents. Or the more they try to control your life."
"I don't really consider myself 'close' to my dad," Sam said, looking into his coffee. He wouldn't touch the question of how much John tried to control his life with a ten foot pole. There was no scale to measure it. The man had Sam's future mapped out for him since he was eight years old. He took a deep breath, fighting off the wave of angry resentment that rushed through him at the thought and concentrated on what Eric was saying.
"With the number of times the three of you only had each other because of the way you moved around? And all those little extreme sports escapades you guys get into? The martial arts the three of you practice together? Dude, you might not see it, but as different as the three of you seem on the surface, there are times you're like peas in a pod. Sometimes you even have matching bruises. And as cool as that can be, it only makes it worse now that you're trying to figure out who you are, away from your family."
"You been watching that Dr. Phil guy on Oprah?" Sam knew his smile was shaky at best, but Eric let it slide.
"Nah, I read Seventeen magazine when I'm waiting to get my hair cut. And I've talked about it with my parents. They keep telling me it's a normal thing, and I'm just trying to establish my independence from them. Become my own adult. They think it gets pretty bad in our house sometimes because so much of my self-image is tied up with them that I'm having a hard time breaking away and becoming myself." Eric's face twisted in embarrassment. "They're my mom's words, dude. I don't think this shit up on my own."
It made sense to Sam in a scary way. For the first time he'd been seeing what life was like for 'normal' people. A safe life where you didn't have to worry about the things in your closet. Where you didn't have to worry that this time next week you'd be salting and burning your father. Or your brother. Seeing that there were other ways of living out there had brought every bit of confusion inside of him roaring to the front.
Eric might think the three Winchesters were 'peas in a pod', but Sam knew he was the odd man out. It was okay when he was younger and Dean stayed with him when John was away. Because he fit with his brother. When he was younger Dean was all he needed and all he wanted. But it was never like that for Dean. Dean had always needed John too. And now that Sam was older and didn't require a constant babysitter… When his dad and brother were together the two of them were a team. He was the outsider. And the more the two of them tried to push him into a mold, to make him fit where they wanted him, the more it hurt. And made him angry.
He didn't know how he fit in with them. He didn't even know who the hell he was yet. Where they left off and he began. And the harder he fought to figure it out, the more he was tearing them apart. The more he was tearing Dean apart.
"So how the hell do I make it stop before it kills one of us? We don't exactly handle conflict well in my family," Sam chuckled humorlessly.
Eric shrugged again. "Couldn't tell you, dude. Justin kind of just outgrew it. Me? I don't see a quick fix. I just keep my eyes fixed on graduation. Why do you think I'm focusing on colleges on the east coast?"
Sam had been lifting his coffee mug but he dropped it heavily back to the table, liquid sloshing over the sides. "Your solution is to just desert your family? You're just moving to the other side of the country?"
Amusement curled over Eric's features. "Desert them? Dude! Drama much? I'm just talking about going to college! A little distance, a little time away from them. It'll give me a chance to break the pattern and figure things out for myself. Then maybe the three of us will be able to get along like adults. They'll let go a little, and I'll grow up a little and stop being an emo bitch."
"And they're okay with that?"
"Hell yeah! I think they'll be happy to get me out of their hair for a while. They know I'm coming back. It's just college. I'll be with them over breaks and probably back living in their pocket when I graduate. And the best part? When I'm ready to blow up about something now I just think about it and sometimes it's like instant calm. It's amazing how easy it is to be chill about stuff when you know you've got a break from it coming up." He lifted his coffee and saluted Sam with the mug. "You should think about it, dude."
Sam's hands began to shake. He'd had teachers asking him about college for as long as he could remember. It had never seemed like a possibility.
But what if…
The first tingle of hope began to run up Sam's spine. His life had been laid out in front of him for years, a scary gray map of a future that he had no say in. A future that ended with the three of them hating each other.
If he was honest he'd admit that college had never seemed like a possibility before because the idea of making his own decision about something so major, overcoming the inevitable arguments and grabbing for some independence, shook him to his core. A part of him had doubted that he could make it on his own, even just for a little while, making his own decisions and handling obstacles on his own. When you were so used to taking orders it could be tough to accept that you were capable of thinking things through completely on your own.
But after everything that had happened with the fae he knew he could handle whatever came his way. Stand on his own two feet.
The down side to his new faith in himself? Understanding how strong he really was, so much stronger than he'd ever given himself credit for, made the thought of a future that he had no say in unbearable. He was starting to understand himself well enough to know that if he wasn't allowed to make hunting his own choice it would destroy him. And he'd probably take Dad and Dean down with him. It was already starting, the resentment and arguments growing stronger and more violent. The pain on his brother's face deepening and becoming more set in every day.
But what if he could have a say in how things played out? Sam sat up straighter. If he had a chance to be on his own, just for a little bit, he could settle everything in his own mind, figure out his own reasons for hunting. He wasn't blind. He knew hunting would always be a big part of his future. Dad and Dean would never give it up and he could never willingly walk away from them.
What if Eric was right and college was the little break he needed? A chance for all three of them to cool off and figure out a way to get along together? He'd still be hunting with Dad and Dean during all the long breaks, and he'd be back with them full time after school was done. But he'd be there on his own terms. Happy to be with them instead of forced.
And that was a future he could live with.
Dad and Dean wouldn't be thrilled with the idea. Dad especially. Sam's stomach churned at the thought of even telling him about it. But they'd have to accept it. It was only temporary, he'd be with them during vacations and if they really needed him during the year…
He had to work on getting along better with Dad now. If Dad could start seeing him as an adult, start trusting that Sam could make his own decisions, then he could convince Dad that a little break would work for them. He'd be okay with it when he saw that Sam wasn't running away for good. Hell, maybe they could even set up some kind of base of operations near Sam's school. If Sam had an apartment…
Whoa. He was getting a little too caught up in a future that would probably never happen. He didn't know if he'd even get accepted to a school. And that was just the first hurdle. Being able to pay for school? That would be the biggie. Before he started decorating the imaginary Winchester apartment he'd better find out if college was even a viable option.
He'd have almost a year to figure out how he was going to convince both Dad and Dean that this was a good idea. That it was an absolutely essential idea if they wanted to survive together. He loved them both but things couldn't continue the way they were. It was tearing them apart. Especially Dean.
But this idea… For the first time since he was a kid the future wasn't something that he dreaded. There was honest to God hope. And that hope could open a lot of doors.
The possibilities of thinking outside of the box were endless. Who's to say they couldn't have a home and still hunt? Who's to say he couldn't coerce Dean into picking up a couple of college courses? Who's to say he and Dean couldn't stand shoulder to shoulder with Dad as partners instead of his 'good little soldiers'?
Yeah, that was a future he could definitely live with.
Eric had gone back to quietly munching on his cookie and sipping his coffee after dropping his little bombshell of an idea into Sam's lap, but he looked up at the sound of Sam's soft laughter. His eyebrows shot up when he took in Sam's expression. "Yo, dude! Somebody slip some happy juice into your coffee? Where'd Captain Emo go?"
Sam's smile broadened, dimples biting deep into his cheeks. "I kicked his sorry ass out of here. Hurry up and finish your food. I want to head back to your house and talk to your dad about a couple of things."
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
Could you let down your hair be transparent for awhile
Just a little while
to see if you're human after all
Honesty is a hard attribute to find
When we all want to seem like
we've got it all figured out
Well let me be the first to say that I
don't have a clue
I don't have all the answers
ain't gonna' pretend like I do
just trying - to find my way
trying - to find my way the best that I know how
"Trying" by Lifehouse
A/N: I was sooooo tempted to end this after the scene of the three of them in the kitchen. But as much as I would have loved going out on a note of family togetherness and bypassing any additional angst, I couldn't do it. The three way family conflict was in existence before Dean ever found out about the fae, and I didn't want to leave the issues hanging. And remember there's till the epilogue to go.
A/N2: On a side, personal note—a couple of people have told me that there is a store of some type called "Hozho" in Arizona. I'll be back in the southwest, including Arizona, this summer, and if anyone knows where this store is I would be immensely grateful if you could pass the information on to me, either in a review or a PM or email, whatever. Even if you've never left a review because you're not a review person, or you're shy, or you hate the story…please let me know where the store is. LOL