Big My Secret
Chapter 5 – A Tangled Mess
A/N: This is my take on what happens when Dean returns from Hell at the start of Season 4. The story takes place shortly after Dean and Bobby show up at Sam's motel room.
The title comes from a song from the soundtrack of the movie 'The Piano'. No copyright infringement intended.
I don't own anything related to Supernatural. All I can claim are the errors, grammatical or otherwise.
Thank you to all the reviewers, followers and readers.
This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.
SPN~SPN~SPN
Sam swung the Impala sharply to the left and into the narrow driveway before bringing the car to a sudden stop. The young man gripped the steering wheel tightly and peered up through the dirty windshield thinking how he had almost missed the small church as he raced along the darkened country road.
"We're here," Sam exhaled anxiously, praying this is what his brother needed. When he didn't get a response he peered into the rear view mirror, saw the top of Bobby's cap and could hear his soft murmurings but not a word from Dean. Sam twisted around to look for himself. He was not calmed by the sight that confronted him; Dean was lying across the seat and desperately holding on to the older man's wrist. He had stopped asking Bobby not to let him fall, stopped begging for someone to stop ripping out his insides, stopped asking for mercy, stopped promising to do better. Instead Dean's eyes had become bottomless pits of pain.
"Bobby, what should we do?" Sam asked nervously. The older man was engrossed with the plight of the man hanging on to him for dear life. "Bobby," Sam called more sharply this time, "We're here."
"Got it," the older man huffed in irritation without looking at Sam. Bobby had his hands full; Dean was now pushing himself up wanting to get out of the car. "Alright, son, alright we'll get there, easy now," he whispered to Dean before he turned to Sam, "Okay, let's give this a try," he said.
Sam stared at the older hunter and saw the worry and fear in his eyes which probably mirrored his own.
"Lemme check it out," Sam said, feeling for his gun and knife before he anxiously yanked the Impala's door open and stepped out into the warm night air. The young hunter huffed out a breath and focused his mind on the task at hand, circled the area and looked for anything that would indicate there was a trap waiting for them. It was clear the old building had not been used in a long time and he cast an uneasy glance towards the Impala before pulling on the door and entering.
Sam slowly made his way around the inside, checking the confessionals, verifying each row of pews, uncovering any fallen chunks of wood. The young hunter made it half way to the front before Bobby came stumbling in with Dean hanging on, coughing and spitting blood and unable to catch his breath. Both men fell heavily to the floor. Bobby cursed and quickly grabbed at Dean to check on him and pull him off the hard floor.
"We're inside, Dean," Bobby wheezed out to the young hunter in response to some unspoken demand. Dean stared up at him and the older man confirmed, "We're in…okay? We're in now…"
Dean directed a confused look around trying to situate himself. His eyes locked into the cross at the front before he began to crawl towards the altar.
"Easy, son," Bobby murmured and steadied the young hunter as he tried to help him up.
Sam rushed back instinctively and reached out to support his brother. Dean flinched but there was no reproach in his expression, just stubborn determination to get to that altar.
"Sorry," Sam mumbled but continued to half drag, half carry his ailing brother towards the front. This was still new territory for Sam, this mistrust and fear Dean had of him. As brothers they had always been able to work things out but maybe this was something that was too big to repair. Sam hoped he was wrong. The younger brother gently sat Dean against the stone altar and watched as his brother closed his eyes in pain and exhaustion.
Bobby came forward and knelt next to Dean.
"I'll finish securing the area," Sam said, stepping away from the two men.
The older hunter nodded to no one in particular and brushed his hand against Dean's cheek. Dean was burning with fever.
"Son, you hear me?" Bobby murmured worriedly. Dean moaned and his eyes widened suddenly as he clutched at this abdomen before tilting forward and vomiting a stomach full of blood. Dean clung to Bobby, unable to keep himself upright without the older man's support and Bobby stared helplessly at the dark puddle by their knees.
"M…b-better," Dean stuttered, closing his eyes as he slumped against Bobby who had no idea how hacking up your insides was better. He maneuvered the young hunter back to a sitting position, trying to steady him so he wouldn't tip over. Dean's hands clutched weakly at Bobby's jacket and his head lolled aimlessly from one side to the other.
"Can you sit up, son?" Bobby asked.
Dean's eyes fluttered and he tried to nod but his body did not comply and he listed over to the right.
"I'll take that as a no," Bobby said, laying Dean on his side. The older man carefully removed and folded his jacket into the semblance of a pillow and slipped it between the older Winchester and the stone floor. He let out a breath, pushed back his cap and scratched his head in confusion at how the young man could have suddenly spiked a fever in the time it took them to make it from the car to the church. It took a minute or two but Dean's frantic breathing slowed and his body began to lose some of the tension from the constant pain.
Sam returned, stood nearby and stared at the wet patch of blood, his eyes mired in apprehension as to whether this was such a good idea after all.
"Doesn't make sense," Bobby mumbled and pushed his hand against Dean's forehead. "He's burning up."
"Maybe we need a hospital," Sam said, kneeling next to his brother.
Dean's eyes opened all glassy and fearful, signalling no with a slight shake of his head.
"Okay, son. We'll stay," Bobby said to calm him.
Sam sighed in frustration and worry. "I don't know. Bobby," he whispered, giuding Bobby up and away from his brother. "What are we supposed to do here?" Sam looked around the empty church.
Dean overheard and muttered vaguely, "He, he won't c..come here."
Sam turned to eye his brother, "Who won't come?"
Dean stared back, an unsaid accusation hanging between them. "Him," was the only thing he offered.
Bobby tried to break this staring deadlock between the boys. "Tell us, Dean. We wanna help," the older hunter motioned between himself and Sam.
Dean coughed out a tight, mirthless laugh and then his eyes hardened to stone causing the hair on Bobby's neck to prickle in fear. "You can't," he whispered darkly.
A dreadful ache filled Bobby and he turned away not wanting to see the hopelessness in the young man. "I gotta make a call," he muttered before walking away.
Sam settled uneasily next to his brother. He watched as Dean wrapped his arms around himself, closing himself off from the world, or at least from him.
SPN~SPN~SPN
Bobby ushered a dark haired woman into the church. "Yeah, things went south quickly. Don't know exactly how or why," he told his friend. "Then we ended up here and we could really use your help."
"You know me, Bobby, anything for an old friend," she grinned warmly trying to calm the older hunter. "Let me see what I can figure out, okay?" She patted his arm encouragingly.
Bobby nodded, guiding her towards Sam and Dean.
"Sam, this is Pamela, my contact."
Pamela extended a hand towards the young man. "Nice to meet you, Sam."
Sam got up quickly and cast a worried glance towards his brother before accepting Pamela's hand and returning the greeting.
Bobby knelt down. "Dean," he called softly. He waited for the young hunter to open his eyes. "I have someone I want you to meet," Bobby added as he looked up to Pamela. The psychic knelt next to Bobby and into Dean's line of vision. "This is Pamela. She's a psychic."
Dean stared in confusion.
"She can see things," Bobby added.
Dean shivered at these last words and shook his head.
"Dean, she's here to help," Bobby reassured the young man who was breathing heavily now.
"D-don't want her to s-see," Dean chattered then sat up shakily, preparing to bolt.
"It won't hurt," Pamela smiled, "Promise." She held up her hand in as if swearing on a bible.
"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't look." He pushed himself away, his face flushed in shame.
Pamela heard the warning in Dean's tone and felt the flutter of danger in the pit of her stomach which left her wondering what had him so scared.
"I won't look if you don't want me to," she agreed before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The psychic was immediately assaulted by a burning sensation running through her entire body. A flash of dark, bloody images invaded her brain and profound emotions flooded into her and threatened to pull her apart. She let go of the young man quickly, almost falling back.
Dean flinched away as well, his whole body trembling fiercely. Sam grabbed his brother's arm to support and still him.
"Easy, Dean, no one's going to do something you don't want. Okay?" Sam held his brother lightly allowing him to get away if he really wanted. Dean didn't try and instead felt the guilt and shame welling up in his body and he turned to Pamela. He didn't want her to know what he'd done.
"Don't…," he mumbled but the sentence died in his throat as he realized she had seen too much.
Bobby stared at Pamela questioningly. The psychic stood up and placed her hand over her heart to try and slow it down. "I...shouldn't..." she started haltingly, staring into Dean's fearful eyes, unsure she understood what she had seen or felt and whether she should divulge any of it.
Bobby followed his friend as she walked away. "What happened?" he asked worriedly.
Pamela shrugged regretfully, hugging herself to steady her breathing.
"Pamela, you need to tell me what you saw," Bobby pleaded.
She knew her friend was right. She had come here to assist and not telling Bobby wouldn't help anyone. She didn't know how to put it into words just yet. "I felt…others."
"What others?" Bobby asked perplexed.
Pamela looked around awkwardly. "Others, but not others," she added cryptically.
"You're not making any sense, Pamela," Bobby said and took her by the arm to move her further away from Dean.
"I don't understand it myself," Pamela offered nervously, her voice thin.
"What did you see?"
Pamela looked back at Dean, her eyes scrutinizing him almost disbelievingly. "A tangled mess."
SPN~SPN~SPN
Sam woke with a start and instinctively felt for the gun tucked inside his waist band. He looked around the small church for any sign of trouble. Bobby and Pamela were stretched out along some pews, their soft breaths indicating they were finally asleep. Dean was curled up on the floor, his thin frame shivering under the heat of the fever, his eyes focused on the door at the entrance.
Sam moved closer and adjusted the blanket they had thrown over his brother.
"Dean," he whispered tentatively and then felt his brother's forehead. His hand came away slicked in sweat and warmed by the heat emanating from Dean's body. Sam fumbled for the first aid kit, popped open the pill bottle and shook two Tylenol into his palm. He felt around for the water bottle and then turned back to his brother.
"Dean, can you sit up?"
Dean moaned and tucked his arms closer to his body.
"You need to take some more pills."
Dean heard the worry in his brother's voice and turned towards Sam, his eyes a liquid pool of heat. "He, he won't c-come..." he tried to reassure his brother.
Sam began to doubt whether Dean was lucid with all this crazy talk about 'him'.
"Here, take these," Sam offered. "They'll help with the fever and maybe you'll be able to get some sleep."
Dean pulled himself up to a sitting position and leaned heavily against the altar. He steadied his breathing and eyed his brother uneasily. Alastair's words echoed in his brain. "The guilty get no sleep," he whispered. It was Alastair's way to end the fleeting rest periods between torture sessions.
Sam froze at his brother's admission, an admission that implied something dark and sinister. Sam didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to ask his brother what it meant.
The silence between the two men caused the room to still once again and an uncomfortable stalemate unfolded. Minutes went by with neither brother making a sound and eventually Dean turned away, guilt-ridden. Sam watched his brother's restless body shivering and shuddering.
Some moments later, Dean's throat worked convulsively seemingly either trying to keep something in or get it out. "Why'd you do it, Sammy?" he rasped his throat a fiery furnace.
Sam almost broke open at the sound of his brother's voice so alone and accusatory. The brother that had sacrificed everything for him, that knew him better than he knew himself, somehow knew about the demon blood. Dean couldn't trust him and Sam needed to make things right.
"I can explain," he started hesitantly.
And that was all the proof Dean needed to confirm his suspicions. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes not needing to hear anything else. Dean felt the betrayal well up in his throat and close it tightly. "How am I supposed to trust you now, huh?" he eked out.
Sam edged closer and when Dean didn't move away or flinch he grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around Dean's shoulders and held it there for a few moments.
"You can trust me, Dean. Always," Sam whispered contritely. "And I'll always trust you," Sam added. No sooner had he spoken these words that he felt Dean stiffen. Sam tightened his grip on his brother, to provide a solid respite for Dean's doubt and fear but his older brother would have none of it, the moment was lost and the gap between them widened once again.
"You shouldn't," Dean said coldly and Sam heard the warning that was not meant as a threat but to protect him from harm. Dean pushed himself away and leaned back against the altar exhausted and alone, once again.
SPN~SPN~SPN
It was the burning sensation on his right arm that woke him. The heat from his arm was pulsating through him, bathing him in sweat and blazing him dry at the same time. He felt confused, as if time and space were undulating into one another and there was no past, no future, no here, no there, everything was this moment. Sam loomed over him, face furrowed in worry, gripping his bicep tightly, asking him something he couldn't understand.
He felt something beating in his chest but it wasn't his heart, it was someone else's. Dean tried to get up, tried to find his footing but his body felt strange, not his own and he fell forward into Bobby and Sam's arms.
Pamela watched from close by, fingers clutching at her t-shirt, breathing hard and trying to slow it all down. A small part of what Dean was feeling was coming through her body and it was like nothing she had ever felt before. She was afraid but at the same time exhilarated.
Sam turned and looked behind him at the entrance of the church. Someone was there. He pulled the gun and knife out and signaled to Bobby to stay with Dean. He moved stealthily towards the back of the church while Bobby pulled out his own knife and nodded to Pamela to move in closer, to not to be alone and exposed. Pamela knelt next to the pair.
Sam pressed himself against the inside of the door and waited patiently for whoever was on the other side to make a move. The church door cracked open and a small sliver of light broke through and stretched across the floor until it hit the altar. Bobby pulled Dean closer.
A small hand gripped the wooden door and pulled it slightly more open, it was obvious the door was too heavy for whoever was on the other side. Sam didn't let his guard down and signaled to Bobby that he wasn't waiting any longer. After receiving confirmation from the older hunter, Sam jumped out, grabbed the hand at the door and pulled a child forward and into the church.
The boy was no older than five with short dark hair and large brown eyes. He didn't struggle or try to get away from Sam. In fact he didn't look frightened at all just surprised at the gigantic man holding on to him.
"Who are you?" Sam asked without loosening his grip.
The boy looked around the church until his eyes locked onto to Dean. "I'm Billy," he replied as if this fact should have some significance to Sam.
"Let him go," Dean ordered. Everyone turned to stare at Dean who was pushing himself away from Bobby and to an upright position.
"Dean, we don't know anything about him," Sam warned as he watched his brother sway.
"I know everything about him," Dean whispered, "Let him go," And his voice caught on the last word.
Sam saw the overriding pain and love in his brother's eyes and couldn't understand what kind of connection his brother had with this boy. Bobby made to get up and but Pamela placed her arm on his to stop him. Her eyes were unafraid and brimming with longing.
"Let him be," she advised then looked at Sam and nodded for him to let the boy go.
Sam hesitated but when Billy looked at Dean, Sam saw something he hadn't seen in a long time. It could only be described as a look of devotion and adoration, reminding him of the way Dean looked at their Dad when he came back from a hunt; grateful that he was alive and ready to take care of him.
Sam released his grip on the boy and Billy calmly walked towards Dean. The older Winchester tried to control his breathing but his emotions had overtaken him and his bones felt rubbery as he fell to his knees. Billy stopped before him, offering a small smile before pulling back his sleeve and revealing a burn mark on his arm.
Dean tried to swallow every emotion threatening to explode out of his chest as he tentatively reached out to Billy, placing his overheated hand over the young boy's arm. Their limbs intertwined and Dean's hand closed over the boy's burn mark fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.
And that's when the dam broke, when Dean realized he got something back he thought was lost forever. The feverish hunter crumbled forward into the arms of this child, his thin frame racked by sobs of gratefulness and love. He cried and cried like he might never stop again.
TBC...