A/N: WARNING! I love Sam - but here be some Sam not loving himself so much. I have no trouble getting inside Dean's head, but Sam is a bit of a (okay, a freakin' HUGE) mystery to me. So, here is me trying to imagine what the inside of his mind would maybe look like. Constructive feedback always welcome, trolls know where to get off.
Also - I went so long without a beta, I keep forgetting to thank the beta goddess TMATEOTB for all of her hard work and patience with my idiosyncrasies - I don't know how she puts up with me. :-)
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Dean tried to remember what the fight had been about, but his fragmented thoughts just wouldn't coalesce. The haze of blood loss and pain wrapped tight around him like some hell-spawned Snuggie.
Sam had grabbed his bag and stormed out nearly a week before. Dean had given it a couple days for them both to calm down, but there had been no word from Sam. Dean had called and texted – no answer.
So Dean found a job. Something to occupy his mind.
And boy what a job he had found. The vamp had been serious bad news. The brutality with which he killed was a clear sign of how much he loved doing just that.
Dean had tracked him to a small home at the edge of town. He had thought he was tracking one vamp. Dangerous, but not impossible for a solo Hunter.
When he crept inside, expecting to take the thing by surprise, Dean was the one in for a shock.
The vampire stood across the room from him. A toothy grin and a dark chuckle were Dean's only warning.
Two more vampires appeared in the doorway behind him, cutting off Dean's only escape route. He had half a second to think shit before the big male in the door had him by his throat, lifting Dean off the floor. Before he could even struggle, Dean was hurled across the room, slamming into the wall and sliding to the floor.
The rest of the fight was a blur of jagged teeth and pain. The small female was the first to die, the sadistic leader was the last. Somewhere in the middle, two of them held Dean still while the ringleader tried to drain him dry.
Now he lay on the floor, trying to piece together how he got there and what had happened. He knew he was hurt badly. The gash over his left eye had effectively blinded that side between the swelling and the sheet of blood that cascaded down his face. His ears were ringing and blood loss had left him so weak he could barely move.
He tried to reach up, to see if the bite on his neck was still bleeding, but his arms were like lead weights. He thought he heard a voice before he blacked out and hoped it wasn't another vampire.
Dean knew better than to expect his luck to be that good, though.
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Sam's phone had been silent for days. Even so, when it finally did ring he hesitated a moment before checking the ID. He wasn't positive whether he would have answered if it had been Dean, but he was saved that decision since he did not recognize the number.
Before he could even say hello, an angry voice snapped in his ear, "Where the hell are you?"
"Jo?"
"Why aren't you with Dean?"
Irritated, thinking Dean had put her up to calling and keeping tabs on him, Sam snapped back, "We had a fight. I needed some space to myself for now to clear my head."
"Oh really? What was this earth-shattering fight about Sam?"
Something in her voice sent up warning bells in his head, but his mouth had other ideas, "What does it matter? We fight, we get over it, we move on. So what?"
"Did it ever occur to you that one of these days there might not be a chance to get over it?"
Sam felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Fear settled in the pit of his stomach. Had Dean finally decided he'd had enough of Sam's issues? Had Sam crossed the line into some new realm where Dean couldn't forgive his volatile temper? He held on to a desperate hope, "Did Dean put you up to this?"
"No, Sam, but I really wish he could have. I found him two days ago in a vamp nest."
"Found him?" A spike of fear jolted through him, making his body tingle with adrenaline.
"They ambushed him and at least one of them bit him before he could put them down. He has a bad concussion, bruises everywhere and massive blood loss. I managed to stitch the worst of the gashes closed before he bled out completely, but they tried to drain him. He's been unconscious ever since I found him. So no, he didn't put me up to anything Sam."
"Is he - " Sam swallowed hard, "is he okay?"
"I don't know. I'm not a doctor and it's not like I could just hook him up with an MRI and blood transfusions just any old place, is it?" He had thought she was pissed when he answered, but the more they talked the angrier she was getting.
"No, but - "
"But nothing! You know, it's about time you learn your actions have consequences. You want your space "for now", but "for now" can turn into "forever" in less than a heartbeat! It's so easy for you to just turn your back and walk out on him, knowing how it kills him inside when you do, knowing how much you mean to him."
"That's not - "
"You walk out, slam that door and don't even give it another thought. You know damn well he'll take you back without question when you decide he's done enough crawling and groveling to earn the "privilege" of your company. I've no idea why he keeps doing it, how he can keep forgiving you for all the times you've stuck a knife in his heart and twisted it."
Sam stood rooted to the spot, his mind racing. He tried to think of something to say, some defense for his actions. Sam had abandoned Dean, Dean had nearly been killed - was there a defense for that? His silence seemed to send Jo completely over the edge.
"Whatever, Sam. You wanted out of his life, you think you can come back any time you feel like it and you don't stop to think that one of these times, there won't be a next time. He almost died alone in that house and he's not in the clear yet. Since you obviously can't be there when he needs someone, I will! At least now if he dies, he won't be alone when it happens."
She hung up before he could even think of anything to say.
Sam sat staring at his phone for several minutes, stunned and unsure what to do. Finally, he opened his laptop and tried to locate Dean's phone with the built in GPS feature. He had shut his own off as soon as he left so Dean could not do the same to him. He was not surprised to discover Dean's had been shut off too.
Unsurprised, but definitely disappointed.
He tried to trace the number Jo had called from but realized it must have been a disposable phone when he could get no information on it. The number he had for her in his contacts was a dead end as well.
Shutting the laptop and grabbing his phone again, he hit the speed dial and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he started tossing gear into his bag. Occupied with his packing, Sam had no idea how long it rang before Ellen picked up.
"Ellen, it's Sam. Is Jo there?"
There was a moment of silence before Ellen responded, "No, she's not here Sam." Her voice was calm and even, like she was trying to keep it neutral.
"Ellen, please..."
"I'm telling you the truth, she isn't here."
"Do you know where she is?"
Ellen sighed. "Look, Sam, I do know where she is and I know what happened to your brother." If she could have seen Sam flinch at the mention of Dean, or see the guilt and worry that followed, it might have weakened her resolve.
But she didn't.
"I don't know what happened with you two, but I know how upset Dean was when he called here hoping to find you. He's damn lucky he mentioned the hunt when he called. If Jo hadn't found him when she did..." She broke off, her emotions clearly getting the best of her.
Sam thought back to the horrible things he'd said before he left. What if those were the last words he ever got to say to Dean? Why did he always let his anger take control of him? Why did Dean keep forgiving all the awful things Sam did to him?
Ellen took a calming breath and started again, "All I can tell you is Jo is with him doing the best she can for him. Seeing him like that scared the shit out of her. If you show up anywhere near her right now, she will skin you alive. I'm sorry Sam, it was all I could do to just convince her to even call you and tell you he's hurt."
"Is there any way I could convince you to call and let me know how he's doing?"
There was another silence that felt to Sam like it lasted for years.
"Dean's in good hands," Ellen finally said. "Jo will do everything she can to make sure Dean pulls through. Maybe you should take this time to think about things."
"What things?" Sam snapped, worry and guilt overriding common sense - snapping at the elder Harvelle was never a good idea. But how could she possibly think he could concentrate on anything besides his brother right then?
"You need to think about what you're doing and what you want. More importantly, you need to figure out how Dean fits into your grand plan. You can't keep flitting in and out of his life like some leaf caught in a crosswind. You're killing him, Sam. Literally. If he lives through this, you either need to be all in or all out. No more wading in the pool because you're afraid to get your swim trunks wet. I have to go, we have a situation here."
Sam could hear a commotion in the background before she hung up without even a goodbye. He idly wondered who would be dumb enough to start trouble at the Roadhouse.
Sam dropped down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. No sense packing, he had no idea which direction he should even go.
He felt so lost.
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The first thing he was aware of was that he was freezing, but he couldn't remember being where there was snow. He didn't have time to mull that over too thoroughly before the pain came crashing in. Dean tried to turn his head and open his eyes to look around, but the movement sent a stabbing pain through his head dragging a weak moan out of him.
"Dean?" A soft voice nearby. He tried again to open his eyes and found only the right one would open enough to see out of. Jo sat on the edge of the bed, pale and worried. She tried to smile for him. "Welcome back. You did a hell of a job on those vamps, but they returned the favour. Your eye is still swollen shut, but the stitches all seem to be holding. Think you can stay awake long enough for a cup of broth?"
Dean started to nod and thought better of it, making an affirmative sound instead. Closing his eye again, he allowed himself to coast along the edge of awareness.
Some time later, he felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed and whispered, "Sammy?"
"No Dean," Jo's voice came again, "he's not here."
Dean opened his eye and frowned, wincing when his battered face protested the movement.
Jo sighed, anger settling on her face. "He's fine Dean. I promise. Can we please just worry about you right now?" Sliding a hand carefully under his head, she helped him raise up enough to swallow down most of the lukewarm broth.
Dean wanted to ask about Sam, find out where he was, why he wasn't there. The warm liquid in his belly was better than any sedative, though, and Jo's gentle fingers stroking through his hair made it impossible to ignore the siren call of sleep.
She continued rubbing his head long after he drifted off, a comforting touch in a sea of pain.
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Sam tried the number Jo had called from a couple of times. It was off, dead, or she was just plain ignoring it. He didn't want to press his luck. If she was ignoring it and he kept calling, he would just piss her off more and the last thing he wanted was to completely alienate her. He might never find out how, or where, Dean was.
Okay, maybe not never, but at least if he backed off Jo might calm down and call him eventually.
Sam had tried the Roadhouse again, too, but Ellen was still irked and Ash knew better than to get involved the one time he had answered.
So Sam sat. And waited. And thought.
Dean was damn lucky he had mentioned the hunt to the Harvelles. If he hadn't, he would surely be dead.
The thought made Sam sick to his stomach.
Dean. Dead.
Dean had lay badly beaten. Bleeding out. Dying alone.
And it was Sam's fault.
Tears welled at the thought. He had walked out on Dean. Again. Something Dean had never done, would never do to him.
Sam's thoughts unerringly snapped to the fact that Dean had hunted alone before, while he was at school. How many times had his brother faced death alone while he was at college and their dad was single-mindedly seeking vengeance? Abandoned by his family but still trying to do the right thing for complete strangers, putting his own life on the line to keep others safe.
His chest tightened at the thought. He had never even bothered to ask Dean about it. Dean would play it down, gloss over the worst of it, but Sam could read between the lines. He knew his brother.
Or he thought he did.
Did he really know Dean at all? Or had he, like so many strangers, been sucked in by the persona Dean projected to protect himself from more pain in a world that had rarely dealt him anything else?
Sam thought about what Ellen had said. Every time he walked away from his brother, this life, Dean was the one who always got hurt.
Sam walked away and Dean was taken by a bunch of small-town crazies bent on feeding him to an old god.
Sam walked away and brought Meg into their lives. Dean had been shredded by those Daevas, while he had remained largely untouched. Sam had been no better than John in that alley - had not even acknowledged Dean covered in blood, arm wrapped tight to his belly curled around his pain. He would have seen how bad it was if he'd only just looked, but Sam was more concerned with John walking away again (sound familiar Sam? the traitorous voice in his head chimed in) and being pissed at Dean for letting him.
Sam walked away and got himself possessed like some brainless civilian. He'd shot and then beaten Dean within an inch of his life, and Dean had just taken it. So worried about saving Sam, Dean had damn near let that daemon bitch kill him with Sam's body.
Sam walked away to go to school. Jess had ended up murdered and who knew what hell Dean had gone through in that time. Sam had been so wrapped up in himself he had not even bothered to worry about what Dean had suffered alone, even after he got back and saw the new scars Dean bore. He just chalked it up as one more reason to hate the job instead of being determined to watch his brother's back like he should have.
"I can't do this alone."
"Yes you can."
"Yeah, but I don't want to."
The words echoed in his head once more. Dean asking for help for once in his life, and Sam trying so hard to turn him away - oblivious to the significance of Dean asking for help.
Sam had seen the hurt and loneliness that lurked behind that false bravado his brother wore like a shield. Dean rarely let the guise slip, but the signs were all still there if you were looking for them. When had Sam stopped looking for them and started taking Dean's "I'm always fine" as truth?
What was his grand plan? Sam didn't know, but he did know one thing: Dean had always been there to watch over his brother when Sam needed him. Sam hadn't been there when Dean needed him most, he couldn't change that but he could damn sure try to never let it happen again.
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Three long days after learning Dean had been hurt, Sam strode up to the door of the cabin. He wanted nothing more than to barge in and find his brother, but he knew he had to test the waters with Jo first. She had been less than gracious when they finally spoke on the phone again. He rapped softly on the door and waited.
Jo had apparently been watching for him, she opened the door without a word.
"Uh...hey Jo," Sam started, hesitantly. Before he could get any farther, Jo was on her tiptoes, tiny finger in his face.
"Let's get one thing straight, Sam: I didn't do this for you. Dean has been so worried about your dumb ass, he's been fidgety and restless. He needs rest if he's going to heal, so you get your ass in there and show him you're fine so he can maybe take care of himself for once in his life."
Sam hung his head and tried to choose his words carefully, erring on the side of caution. "You're right, I never should have left him. Please just tell me where he is so I can tell him I'm sorry." He looked up and saw something flash through Jo's eyes too quickly for him to catch and identify.
"Down the hall, first door on the right. It's a secure room, no outside walls or windows." She moved out of the doorway so he could pass.
He paused outside the room and took a steadying breath, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened the door. Apart from the deep bruising and dark stitches littering what seemed like every part of exposed flesh, Dean was pale as death. Sam stood frozen for a moment until he saw his brother take a breath, and realized he'd been holding his own.
"Jesus Dean," Sam whispered, moving toward the bed. He sat down carefully on the edge, not wanting to jostle Dean and hurt him. Despite his efforts, Dean made a small, pained sound and whispered his brother's name. Guilt washed over Sam, seeing Dean looking so fragile set an ache so deep he struggled to breathe through the pain of it.
Sam wasn't sure where to touch, what part of his brother wasn't injured in some way. He reached out and carefully laid his hand on Dean's chest over his heart, comforted by the steady thump. "I'm here, Dean," he said softly.
Dean's right eye opened just enough for Sam to see a sliver of green, he realized Dean's left eye was swelled shut and there was a long row of stitches over it. Sam tried not to flinch as he took in each new injury, but looking at it all at once was overwhelming.
"S'mmy, 'm s'rry," Dean's voice was a raspy whisper.
Sam had thought he couldn't possibly feel worse about himself until just that moment. Dean apologizing to him, as if he'd been the one to let Sam down. He couldn't stand it.
"No, this was all my fault Dean and I'm so sorry." Sam felt like was choking on the tears he refused to shed - it would upset Dean and right now he needed calm. Dean started to shake his head and winced. "Never mind Dean, it's not important right now. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You need some rest - I will be right here when you wake up okay?"
Sam could feel his brother watching him as he shifted himself around so his back was against the headboard, his left hip lightly touching Dean's right side. Sam slid down enough that he could reach his left arm around Dean's head, resting his big palm over his brother's heart again. He hesitated a moment and then started dragging his long fingers through Dean's spiky hair to soothe him. If Dean nearly dying didn't give them a pass on the no chick-flick moments then nothing would. Dean gave a soft sigh and the tension seemed to drain out of him all at once. His breathing soon changed and Sam knew he was finally sleeping.
Movement in the doorway dragged Sam's eyes away from his brother - he had no idea how long Jo had been standing there. Something must have shown on his face because her gaze suddenly softened and she gave a small nod before leaving the room, closing the door behind herself.
Dean slept, and Sam kept watch over his brother the way Dean had always watched over him.