Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Shucks.
Day Ten Part ii
The TV in the corner of Bobby's room is displaying a colourful array of images and sounds but there's something niggling him. He stops cleaning his faithful handgun and gives the screen his full attention. His stomach flips and he doesn't want to believe what he's seeing. He really thinks they need more time here for Dean to recover, but the item playing on the local news has removed that option for them.
The blonde reporter is standing outside a house Bobby's never seen before. But it's not the house that's caught his attention, it's the description of what happened there that penetrates his thoughts.
Four dead. Brutally murdered in cold blood. One impaled with an iron stake so forcefully he's been pinned to the solid oak floor.
Bobby doesn't need to hear any more to know the local authorities have just found Jefferson Watts. He doesn't want to know if they found anything else. He imagines there's enough evidence of Dean's incarceration left at the scene for the feds to identify the boy. He suspects Sam will be easily identified too and the last thing they need right now is to be bothered by over zealous law enforcement officers.
The news moves on, endlessly changing, and Bobby throws his gun down. He casts a glance round the room. He doesn't have much here, he always travels light, and he doesn't think it will take long to erase any evidence of his presence here. He hopes Sam had the foresight to check in under an alias or better yet, paid cash. It would be surprising if he hadn't but Bobby can't help but worry.
He catches the odd snippet of commentary from the TV and after a few minutes the anchorman returns to the main story of the night and Bobby's heart sinks as he sees a photofit image of the prime suspect on the screen. It's a bad picture but it's clearly Sam.
And that's when Bobby starts packing.
*****
Sam finally gets Dean settled in front of the TV and finds an innocuous documentary for him to watch, something about classic car makeovers he thinks, and turns to his laptop. He wants to read up on the symptoms of depression, wants to be able to ward it off at the outset if he can. Assuming he's reading the signs right, of course. And he thinks he needs to be prepared for more flashbacks, if he could only get Dean to share.
He's just got the pages up on screen when there's a pounding on the door that startles him. He's at the door, hand on gun, before he's even registered the look on his brother's face. Dean looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Sam checks through the peephole, relaxes when he sees Bobby and waves a reassuring hand in Dean's direction.
Bobby doesn't say a word but the look on his face is enough to strike fear into Sam's heart. Something is wrong, very wrong, but Sam doesn't know what. He's been running on adrenaline for the last few days, fixating on Dean and his needs. So when Bobby flicks the TV onto the news station he's shocked to see his own face staring back at him.
*****
Dean watches the interaction between his brother and their friend. He can't make out what they're saying, although they don't seem to be saying very much. He recognises that things aren't quite right though when the TV spews forth a picture of Sam and he catches a sudden moment of clarity. His brother is in trouble.
Sam and Bobby are moving swiftly around the room, around Dean, picking things up, throwing things in bags, wiping down surfaces and Dean realises they're packing up, readying themselves, and him, to leave. The clarity he held on to for a moment has gone and he's suddenly scared.
He's gotten used to being in this room with Sam. He's not ready to change location and whilst he acknowledges this isn't the best room he's ever been in, it's given him a foundation, a base to steady himself for a little while.
He watches Sam with stricken eyes. He doesn't know how to tell his brother he can't move from this place. Bobby and Sam seem so determined and he knows, really knows, they can't stay. Sam's picture is on the television and even in his current state of mind, Dean knows that means his brother is in trouble. And the thing Dean can't even begin to contemplate is Sam not being with him.
He doesn't realise his breathing has speeded up, or that he's flipping the tv remote over and over and round his fingers until Sam gently takes it out of his hand and rests a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Dean," he tells him. "We have to leave though. Okay?"
And, no, Dean's not okay with that, not really. But Sam needs to leave so he'll go, somehow.
*****
Sam has their belongings packed in the Impala and the room cleaned as best he can in record time. He nods at Bobby's unspoken query whether he's good to go. He wants Bobby to get going first. They've got a long drive ahead of them and Sam's not sure how Dean is going to handle it.
He thinks Dean has come on in leaps and bounds but up till now he's not stepped foot outside the room. Now Sam is going to ask him to not only move outside, but into the car and on a long journey. Sam knows Dean loves the car, considers it home, but the confines of the interior are an unknown for Sam. He doesn't know what might set off another panic attack and they're going to be driving through the night. In the dark.
Bobby has left already, he's going to get a head start on the boys, which gives Sam the space to deal with Dean and any issues on their own. Sam doesn't know if Bobby did that deliberately or not but he makes a mental note to thank him later.
He turns to Dean and offers a smile and holds a hand out to him. He's not surprised when Dean just snorts and pushes himself up on his feet. Sam leaves his hand where it is, just in case Dean changes his mind, or just in case Dean falters.
But Dean surprises Sam and stays on his own two feet, not wavering or swaying, but when he gets to the door he stops dead at the threshold. Sam almost crashes into him, pulling himself up just short of Dean's back. He rests a hand in the small of his brother's back, feeling the heat bleeding through his shirt. He wonders where Dean's jacket is, it's going to be cold in the car and Dean's not quite through with the antibiotics yet.
Dean has become as rigid as a statue though, and Sam decides he has more pressing issues right now.
"Dean?" he whispers, not wanting to startle his brother unnecessarily. "You okay?"
He feels Dean trembling slightly beneath his touch, feels his rate of breathing increase and he wonders if they're on the verge of another panic attack. He doesn't know how to ward it off, he didn't have time to read up on it before Bobby's arrival. He thinks he ought to get Dean's breathing down before he hyperventilates himself into oblivion but to do that he wants to get him out into the fresh air. Except that seems to be the problem. But he really, really doesn't want to go back into the room. Not now they've got this far.
He hates himself for what he's about to do but needs must and he knows Dean would never abandon his little brother.
"Dean," he murmurs, "we have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry."
*****
Dean's heart skips a beat with Sam's words. Sam has to go? Has to go where? Is that why they're at the door? And why the hell can't he get any further?
All he knows is he can't be without Sam. He couldn't make it to the bathroom alone so there's no way he's staying here on his own. Wherever Sam goes, he goes.
And that's how he finds the strength to carry himself to the car, Sam's hand at his back the whole time, a strong, comforting presence, not rushing him but not letting him fall back either. In the back of his mind Dean wonders how Sam knows exactly what he needs and when.
He relaxes when he sees his car, his baby, gleaming in the parking lot. Sam opens the passenger door and Dean falls in, sinking into the familiar leather, allowing the Impala to cocoon him in the scents and memories of happier times. Maybe it's wrong, but this is where Dean truly feels at home and when Sam turns the motor over, Dean sighs and lets his head drop on the back of the seat. He doesn't know where they're headed, but Sam is in control and he's in his baby. For the moment, all is right with the world.
*****
Sam drives through the darkness, half watching the road, half watching his brother. Dean spent the first two hours gazing out of the window, although Sam's not sure he saw much of the passing scenery, and the last two hours sleeping, head resting on the cold glass of the window.
Sam isn't worried that Dean hasn't spoken. He's not bothered his brother doesn't appear to care where they're going. He takes it as a compliment that Dean apparently trusts him implicitly with his welfare. He smiles softly, sadly, to himself. It's been a long time since Dean let Sam take the lead on anything. Sam still feels like a little kid when Dean's around, taking charge, issuing orders, protecting him. He's happy to return the favour, although he wishes the circumstances were different.
The miles roll by and Sam starts to recognise the roads and buildings they're driving past. He hasn't seen Bobby's vehicle so he assumes the older man has already arrived and is putting things in order for them. He doesn't know how they're ever going to repay their friend, knows Bobby isn't expecting them to, but this, what he's doing for them now, goes beyond the call of friendship.
As Bobby's salvage yard appears through the dark of night, Sam breathes deeply and decides that this, this ramshackle house and yard with all it's comforts and faults, this is truly home.
*****
tbc