It's in the Genes
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.
Summary: Crossover with DA and Supernatural -AU– It's the Winchesters who break Alec from jail in Hello/Goodbye and then they start road tripping together. No slash.
Author's note: I've decided that I'm not quite ready to seal up this AU – it's just been too much fun. So, like so many times before, I pressing on with more chapters. And before I rewrite this chapter for the twentieth time, I'm just turning it over for your reviews and crossing my fingers that it doesn't stink.
Thanks so much to Rei6 for your insight and suggestions! Both helped me to go from not having enough material to finish the story to having more than a chapter could hold!
Thanks also for every review! Every one encourages me to keep writing and pushes me to keep struggling to get these characters down right.
I also wanted to say how honored I am whenever someone puts this story as a favorite. I'm hoping that when the final 'the end' comes you still want it as a favorite.
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Chapter 21
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"We have to talk about something serious," Sam quietly began, felt a momentary pang of guilt when worry creased Dean's brow. "How do you get blood stains out of the Impala's interior? I already tried peroxide," but he couldn't keep the smile off his face at his deception or stifle his laughter as Dean's worry morphed to promised retribution.
"Right, sure you did. You value your life better than to do that to my baby…." Dean growled, already planning his payback on Sam's joke with relish.
Then the motel door began opening, abruptly broke off their conversation. Standing up and rigidly positioning himself in front of Dean, Sam reached to the back of his waistband. Shifting on his feet, drawing closer to his vulnerable brother, he silently vowed that nothing would get past him, would have the chance to take his brother from him. Not ever again.
Surprised at Sam's protective stance in front of him, Dean's eyes widened as he saw what Sam was reaching for under his shirt: Ruby's knife. Watched as Sam's hand curled around the knife's handle in a white knuckled grip. Then his attention was drawn again to the door as it swung open.
Entering the motel room, Bobby and Alec came up short as both Sam and Dean's eyes lethally targeted them. Knew that, to further advance into the room without Sam's permission, would be to risk life and limb.
"Crap, you scared me!" Sam exhaled, his protective stance melting away to shoulder bowing relief. "Next time give me a heads up!" he sharply ordered, hand slipping free of the knife and heart starting to find its rhythm again. Remembered then that it was no longer just him and Dean against the world, that Alec and Bobby, they were on their side, would stand with them, had proven that they would even die with them. That their family had truly grown to four.
"What, like a password?" Alec smirked, stepping fully into the room after Sam noticeably went off his full alert protective mode. "I know, 'red rover'? Or maybe 'ollie ollie oxen free'?" he suggested wryly, eyebrows raised in question, enjoyed the frustrated glare Sam leveled at him.
Approaching Dean's bed, Bobby smiled but his words were a grouse, "Well, the princess is finally awake." His tone, however, did nothing to hide his affection for Dean or his joy at seeing the kid in the bed looking so much better than he had even hours ago.
"Bite…" Dean began but, when Sam's head swung his way with a look of warning, he heeded his brother's order to band that particular phrase from his vocabulary. "Eat me," he amended, with as much "bite" as he could muster.
"Speaking of eating, I'll make you some broth," Sam announced, crossing over toward the kitchen.
"I'll do it. Your cooking stinks," Alec grumbled, beating Sam to the small kitchenette.
"I'm going to use the microwave!" Sam return, voice spiking with his indignation.
"Yeah, which amazes me how you can still screw up food," Alec shot back, smirked when Sam playfully plowed his shoulder into his.
Ignoring his brothers' antics, Dean focused on Bobby, had believed Sam when he said the older man was alright but seeing for himself squashed that small tendril of fear that had refused to die. "I was worried about you," the words escaping him before he could remind himself that they were supposed to go unsaid. Cursing the morphine for loosening his tongue, he braced himself to wade through Bobby's reaction to his truthfulness.
"Worried about me?" Bobby reiterated, voice rising as his brow creased. "I wasn't the one who was about to cross over to the B side."
"Yeah but I was worried about your old heart going out on you with all the excitement," Dean shot back with a patronizing smile, proud of himself for deflecting his concern into a snarky barb.
"Well it didn't, no thanks to you and your stupid-behind pacts and reckless plans. If I have to start eating tofu burgers 'cause my heart's in trouble, then you're going to be eating them too, boy," Bobby shot back with artificial rancor.
Easily detecting Bobby's affection in the gruff words, Dean retorted back with a shake of his head, "Sorry Bobby but if you go the tofu way, you're on your own. My loyalty has its limits."
"You're all heart," Bobby grumbled but there was light shining in his eyes as they met Dean's. Both knew that, their loyalty to each other hadn't ever met a line it wouldn't cross.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam called, snagging the older man's attention from Dean. "Since Alec's got the whole broth thing handled, why don't we do a little scouting of the area, check for some signs."
"Sam," Dean drawled in warning, his eyes meeting Sam's, hating the idea of Sam or Bobby being in danger without him there to have their backs. Just because his body wasn't running at 100% didn't mean his protective instincts weren't.
Sam's eyes softened as they met his brother's worried gaze, knew exactly what was going through his brother's head, what was always going through Dean's head: the mandate to protect the ones he loves. "We'll be fine, Dean. Bobby and I, we'll watch each other's backs," he gently but firmly assured, touched by Dean's loyalty even as he knew he had to settle Dean's fears or the fool would try to crawl out of bed and come along with them.
Looks flickering from Sam to Bobby and back to Sam, detecting the solemnity of Sam's pledge, Dean gruffly agreed, "Fine, but call and check in."
"What am I?! A newbie hunter?!" Bobby grumbled but at the look Dean leveled at him, which was half stern demand for capitulation and half imploring plead, he folded with ill grace. "Yeah, fine, dad. We'll call if we're not going to make curfew," he muttered, eyes boring into Dean's. 'Dang pain in the butt, Winchester. Treating me like I'm a teenager and I'm allowing it! Heck, I'll agree to just about anything the kid asks right now…just hope Dean doesn't figure that out.' But by Dean's gloating smile, Bobby knew it was probably too late on that wish.
With Dean's objections curtailed, though not smothered, Sam turned to Alec, found his little brother leaning against the countertop, amused smirk on his lips at the exchange he had witnessed between the three other men. 'Little jerk's gloating that he wasn't dragged into that battle,' Sam surmised, his lips tightening with a tinge of frustration…and jealousy. Stepping closer, he breathed under his breath, "Oh, don't gloat too hard. You have to keep Dean in line and he's a bear when he's healing up," he gloated himself, patting Alec on the chest condescendingly.
"Bears?" Alec gave a careless wave of dismissal of his hand and wore a cocky smile. "No problem. I'm partial to the animal kingdom, remember."
"Uh huh," Sam agreed noncommittally but there was a spark of bold humor in his eyes but it soon morphed into grim determination. "Well, just in case something besides one of your far removed relations comes calling…" he said, pulling Ruby's knife from his waist and holding it out to Alec. He wasn't prepared to watch Alec flinch at even the sight of the proffered weapon. "What?" he breathed out in worry, other hand reaching for Alec's shoulder.
The knife. Ruby's knife. It was the last thing on earth Alec wanted to touch: The knife that Dean had asked him to use on him if Lilith won. A shiver coursed through him even as Sam's hand landed on his shoulder, anchored him to the here and now.
Afraid that Alec would skitter away from him if he didn't physically stop him, Sam crushed the fabric of his brother's shirt in his hand. "Alec?!" he called out in alarm, stepping closer to the younger man, bending his head down to try and catch Alec's eyes, eyes that were transfixed on the knife he held in his other hand.
Having silently watched his brothers' exchange but unable to hear their words until Sam's worried utterance of their little brother's name, Dean called out, "What's wrong?" muscles tensing and already determined to climb out of the bed if he had to, if his brothers needed his help.
In synch, Sam and Alec's heads swiveled to Dean and they chorused with conviction, "Nothing." Both knowing just how reckless and determined Dean could be if he thought either of them were in danger, needed his help.
"Yeah, well something's going on," Dean insisted, studying the body language of his brothers for whatever secrets they were keeping from him in some misguided effort to protect him.
Knowing that his gutless behavior wasn't helping Dean or Sam, Alec met Dean's eyes, joked, "Just conducting the 'royal bestowing of the magic knife' ceremony. You know how Sam's a stickler for ceremonial correctness," forcing lightness in his tone though his gut was clenched with dread. Reaching out, he wrapped shaking fingers around the handle of the knife. Was surprised, sickened that something he considered evil could fit so well into his grasp, like it was designed to be welded by hands well instructed in the art of killing. His hands.
Judging Sam and Bobby's roadtrip as a foray deep into enemy territory, Dean protested Sam's surrender of the knife, "No, Sam. If you're going back into that town, you should take the knife. Alec and I are fine here." But the look his brother shot to him was stubborn resolve.
'But fine isn't safe,' Sam wanted to refute, not swayed by Dean's declaration or all that encouraged by Alec's unsettling reaction to the knife. Certain by the scowl on Dean's face that his brother knew he wasn't going to budge on this, he turned his full focus onto Alec, found his little brother was still staring down at the knife, was mesmerized by the weapon. Giving the shoulder under his hand a squeeze, he gently asked, "Hey, you alright?"
Fearing that his deepest emotions was observable, Alec whipped his head up, offered up a smile and said, "I'm always alright," falling back onto tried and true deflection mechanisms. But knew his efforts had backfired when Sam's look sharpened with concern. For just a moment he had forgotten that Sam knew him, wouldn't be fluffed off like so many others had been. Others who hadn't bothered to read the pain beneath his false reassurances. 'Come on, Alec! Step up your game!" he internally chastised himself. Struggled to find the right tone, the right words to convince Sam that he could be relied upon, wasn't going to flake out when Dean needed him to have his back…and his front. Responding to Sam's seriousness with his own, he fervently vowed, "Nothing will get past me. I swear, Sam," needing Sam to trust him, his fingers unconsciously flexing against the handle of the knife.
Sam was surprised to see the entreaty in Alec's eyes, never guessed that Alec would misconstrue his concern for him as mistrust. "Alec, that's not what I'm worried about. You seem…shook up."
Forcing the tension from his shoulders, Alec gave a rueful shrug and ran a hand over his mouth. "Me, shook up?" he lightly scoffed with a laugh. "Why would I be, right? Dean almost died, you and Bobby are going on a reconnaissance mission where Lilith established her own little community on earth and the only worthwhile weapon we have in this war is this little old knife," he tallied, waving the knife carelessly in the air to prove his point. 'And you just handed the knife off to me…which is almost as bad as trusting me to keep Dean safe when he's so vulnerable,' he left unsaid, but honestly didn't want to relinquish his guard duty of Dean, would fight Sam tooth and nail if he tried to take that honor away from him.
"Yeah," Sam returned with his own brand of bitter, exhausted laughter, "no reason for us to be on edge, right? Dean would say it's just another day at the office..an extremely dangerous day at the office." Encouraged by Alec's smirk, he couldn't help but ask, "So, you're cool with this?"
"Yeah, Sam. I'm good," Alec reassured, even as the knife felt like it was singeing his hand and he could feel his mental barriers erode the longer he held the weapon, the weapon that he almost used on Dean.
Alec sounded so like Dean when he was lying that Sam stilled. Earning a "What?" from Alec, he shook his head in dismissal. "Alright, we'll check in with you." Receiving a nod from Alec, he turned to Bobby. "Ready?"
"Been ready," Bobby shot back and headed for the door.
For a moment, Sam hesistated, hadn't expected it to be this hard, to leave Dean's side after being so close to losing him. Eyes resting on Dean, he wanted to say something but Dean beat him to it, like always, Mr. No Chick Flick moments himself.
"Be careful, Sammy," Dean ordered, voice gruff and tender at the same time, a contradiction that was uniquely his.
"Be a good boy and listen to Alec," Sam ordered with a twist of his lips, was rewarded with a grumbled, "Ah, shut up." Sharing a smile with Alec, he stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut, lingered there a moment even as he saw Bobby sitting in his car, hands raised and expression saying 'what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?' With a clench of his jaw, he let his hand slip free of the door knob and he stalked for the car, encouraging himself with the thought that the sooner he left the sooner he would get back.
SNDASNDASNDA
At Sam's departure, Alec's eyes dropped again to the knife in his grip, to the weapon he had vowed he would use to kill his own brother to ensure Dean didn't go to Hell. Thought it was ironic that a knife was yet again deemed to be his weapon of choice to kill his own kind, kill his family. But this knife, it wasn't the run of the mill like White's knife had been when he made his deal to save his own skin. No, instinctively he knew that, out of all the weapons he had ever wielded, this one was the most powerful…and the most deadly of them all. Could kill monsters and brothers alike, could destroy evil and champion good, all in one fell swoop. Was both killer and savior, alike. 'But only for someone not too gutless to use it,' he miserably thought, remembered vividly the moment that the decision was before him, the knife was before him. And he couldn't bring himself to even touch the knife, to even contemplate fulfilling his vow to Dean. Knew that he would have to let Dean go to Hell before he ever sentenced his brother's soul to death. Couldn't. Loved Dean too much…loved himself too much to make that kind of sacrifice.
The ding of the microwave startled him out of his stupor, had him looking up, finding Dean's worried eyes on him. Determinedly slipping the knife into his waist band, he drudged up a smile, "Lunch is served." Then he busied himself with getting the broth out of the microwave, poured the steaming liquid into a cup and crossed the room. Placing the cup on the night stand, he almost laughed as Dean's eyes tracked the soup, not with anticipation or hunger but warily, as if it were something that had yet to be determined if it were friend or foe. "You think you'll be OK sitting up for awhile?" he asked, voice gentle as he looked to Dean, starkly noted that, besides lying flat out on his back, being paler than some of the ghosts he had met and still hooked up to oxygen and morphine, Dean wasn't even moving his head unless it was absolutely necessary. Which told him how weak and in pain Dean was in more ways than any medical tests ever could.
"Yeah," Dean replied in frustrated forcefulness. Then, in the next breath, he was shifting his arms back so his elbows were braced against the mattress, intending to lever himself upright, regardless that he had to clamp his jaw tight against a moan of pain at the slight movement he had already initiated. But Alec's hand splayed across his collarbone arrested his diminutive motion, held him flush against the mattress with its light but immovable presence. Eyes finding Alec's, he was going to grumble about the obstacle to his progress but Alec spoke first.
"Hold up. I put a lot of time and love into your stitches," Alec stated with a light laugh, his cocky smile designed to make the word 'love' come off as nonchalant, a common word he bandied about, wasn't used specifically in this instance any more than he used it about …say…steak. "I'm not real interested in doing a patch job, ruining another of my shirts with your blood."
Letting the fight go out of him and willingly sinking back into the softness of the mattress, Dean exhaled, "Yeah, we wouldn't want my pain to affect your wardrobe." But he instantly regretted the use of the word "pain" when he saw that Alec was considering reaching for his morphine IV switch. "So some help getting up would be nice, you know, before the yummy broth is cold," he snarked, wanted to wipe the worry out of Alec's eyes, to put some kind of normalcy between them. Decided a little bit of a ramble was in order when Alec eyes still harbored vulnerability. "Course it will be awesome broth because…man you're quite the cook. I mean the way you put things in the microwave…its revolutionary."
Accepting Dean's intent to downplay his pain and grateful Dean was allowing his help, Alec grabbed the other bed pillow. Standing over Dean, pillow held in front of him , he taunted with a devious grin, "Alright, I can either shut you up or prop you up. Your choice?"
"How long I got to decide?" Dean retorted, forcing a smirk onto his lips as his look slipped up to meet Alec's.
Not a beat later, Alec announced, "Time's up," as he claimed a seat by his brother's hip. But he met Dean's eyes, waited until he saw acquiescence in the green depths before he reached across Dean. Carefully, he slid his right hand under Dean's waist, his eyes locked with Dean's all the while, gauging his brother's pain at the small jostling. The tightening around Dean's eyes was the only outward proof Alec detected that his touch hurt his brother. "You good?"
"Yeah," Dean answered but his voice was hoarse, contradicted his words. "Keep going," he encouraged, wanted Alec to know he had his trust. Wanted to prove to himself that he could sit upright, wasn't half dead like he felt.
Knowing that Dean wasn't good, that the motion was going to hurt his brother, Alec forced himself to lean forward and slid his arm up from his brother's waist to the middle of his back. Felt the sharp intake of Dean's breath and his brother's body arch in his one armed grasp. Gritting his teeth, he levered Dean off the mattress. Shoving the pillow behind Dean's back, he tried to shut out Dean's groan of agony, to ignore the tremble and heat in his brother's wounded body resting against his chest. Then, though the pillows were in place, he drew his brother more tightly to him, rested his chin momentarily on Dean's shoulder before he settled Dean back onto the pillows, found himself reluctant to pull back, to abandon Dean to his solitary pain. Trailing his hand along Dean's back and onto his arm, he then forced himself to slide his touch free of his brother, kept his eyes averted hoping that Dean couldn't detect his turmoil of emotion. Didn't see how hard it was, letting go, even in something as small as physical contact. Didn't realize just how impossible it would have been to actually let him die?! How killing him would have been beyond impossible. Was inconceivable.
Eyes averted from his brother's sharp, knowing gaze, he reached for the broth, was relieved that the heat still emanated through the glass. Knowing that Dean's "upright" position was more a 20% angle, he snagged the straw out of his take out cup and dropped it into the broth. "Swapping some spit shouldn't bother you since we're blood brothers," he said as if he expected Dean to make a protest at the communal straw idea. But when he turned back to his brother, Dean didn't make one sound of protest, was watching him silently, almost listlessly, a sheen of sweat starting to appear on his face and a pained, dullness gathering in his eyes. With panic, Alec carelessly sat the glass down, sloshing the broth onto the nightstand before bolting to the bathroom.
Though everything was going hazy, Dean knew one thing: Alec had left. Alec had been at his side a moment ago and now he wasn't. Opening his mouth to call for the younger man, he found his mouth was impossibly dry, caused his little brother's name to come out as a whispered entreaty, "Alec?"
Running back to Dean's side in time to hear his brother's nearly inaudible call for him, Alec's heart twisted and he softly reassured, "I'm here, Dean. I'm here." Sinking down on the bed beside Dean, he tenderly began running the wet, cold washcloth over Dean's forehead and down his face, was careful to not dislodge the oxygen tubing. "Sorry I shouldn't have moved you, or should have moved you slower..or something," he apologized hurriedly, hating that, instead of helping Dean feel better, he had made things worse. Wished Sam had been there, had not trusted him to do this. Not if he was going to fail at it. "Just take some deep breaths and let yourself get adjusted to the new position," he breathlessly instructed, stroking the cloth down Dean's cheeks, feeling sick at the clamminess of his brother's almost translucent skin.
Dean closed his eyes, trusted that, though he couldn't see Alec, his brother was still there, wasn't going anywhere, his physical touch proof of that. He mumbled, "Not your fault." Swallowed to marshal more saliva in his mouth. "I can't drink lying down."
"You should be in a hospital," Alec stated, grief and self reprimand in his voice. "I'm the one that said you didn't need a hospital, that I could save you when doctors couldn't."
"Results are in," Dean began and then he opened his eyes, wanted Alec to see that he didn't lay blame on him but gratitude. "You were right. You could say I'm 'living proof' of that."
Alec couldn't help but smirk and shake his head at his stubborn brother's sense of humor, at the smile Dean was trying to offer though he was bone white, had not an ounce of energy to spare on useless gestures. 'Guess he doesn't think it's useless, offering absolution to me. Crap, I don't deserve him or Sam but I'm not complaining. Far from it.' "If you didn't want to drink the broth, all you had to do was say no. Manticore taught me the 'just say no' policies. You didn't have to nearly faint on me."
Dean's pale face scrunched up in hostile objection, "I didn't faint."
"So says you," Alec taunted back, purposefully began dabbing dramatically at Dean's face. He gave a laugh when Dean raised a weak hand to push his hand away. "And this is not getting you out of eating."
"Not hungry," Dean mumbled, sounding like a petulant child refusing to take his medicine.
"Well too bad. I slaved in that kitchen and you're not making my efforts go to waste," Alec joked, raising the glass and positioning the straw so that it was within easy reach for Dean. But when Dean leveled a look of almost pleading at him, he quietly implored, "You really need to eat something, Dean. Even if it's just broth."
Surrendering more because of the worry rolling off of Alec than any medical reasons his brother was offering, Dean grumbled, "Fine, I'll have some of the stupid broth." But he still shot Alec a long suffering look of 'what I do for you' before he took a sip from the straw. It was a pleasant surprise that the broth went down smoothly, soothed his dry throat and settled warmly into his stomach.
The broth, however, couldn't be attributed for the warmth in his heart. No, that had all to do with the affectionate, relieved look in Alec's eyes and the fact that his brother stayed at his side even after the broth was gone, continued to slip the washcloth over his too hot skin even after the cloth warmed to room temperature. And no medic training 101 stuff could give him peace like he had right then, peace that was allowing him to close his eyes willingly, to know irrefutably that he wasn't alone, wasn't going to awake in Hell.
Dean mumbled, "Wake me when Sam calls," when his eyes got too heavy, when he knew the last tendrils of fight to stay away was leaving him.
"Sure," Alec agreed softly, even as he knew it was a lie. That the look Sam had sent to him before he left the room was a mandate to see to Dean's well being above anything else and he wasn't going to fail in that. "Just get some rest. I've got your back." Saw the trust in Dean's eyes as clearly as if his brother had declared it aloud for all the world to know.
With Alec's quiet but solemn oath dissipating his last holdout against sleep, Dean closed his eyes and his last conscious thought was about how wrong he had been. Because, Ruby's knife? It hadn't been his last hope for staying out of hell like he thought it was. His last hope was Alec, was Sam, was Bobby…was love. And being proven wrong, it had never felt so right before.
When Dean's breathing eased into sleep, Alec carefully slid the second pillow from under Dean's head but couldn't force himself to leave Dean's side, not just yet. Sat there and watched Dean sleep and wondered what he would have to pay for feeling so happy, for being so blessed in that moment, because in his experience, things like that came at a cost. 'I'll pay any cost fate can cook up…long as I have my family.' But a part of him couldn't help but worry that Dean would find out that he was going to let him go to Hell, that he was never going to use the knife on him, that he was never going to keep his promise to him. Ever. And then it was like a mantra of prayer, 'don't let him find out, don't let him find out, don't let him find out.' Because whoever had said family was everything was right and, yeah, he had lived with nothing for most of his life but he couldn't do it again, would rather die himself than be without his family.
SNDASNDASNDASNDA
Awaking to the clamoring of his bladder and to darkness, Dean found himself cursing Alec a little for the broth his little brother had practically force fed to him. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could make out the shadow of the chair by his bed that was surprisingly empty, could see that the other bed was occupied by a lithe frame that could only be Alec's. Rolling his head right, his attention was snagged by the meager slice of light slipping out from under the closed bathroom door. Felt himself relax as his other brother was accounted for. But he couldn't pull his eyes from the door until it swung open, until he saw Sam silhouetted in the doorway, had physical proof that Sam had returned from his reconnaissance mission, unscathed. He wasn't surprised that Sam's eyes seemingly met his across the dark room's expansion. Having shared thousands of motel rooms and been on hundreds of night hunts together, they had honed the ability to recognize each other's presence, even moods without the benefit of sight. Sure, it wasn't like having Alec's heightened senses but it had proven to be enough of an advantage to help them survive time and time again…and to navigate through the pitfalls of their relationship throughout the years.
"Hey, you alright?" Sam asked, his voice quiet but blatantly gentle as he crossed over to Dean's bed and crouched down to be eye level with his brother, his hand unconsciously wrapping around Dean's wrist. It was then that Sam realized that he had slipped into the habit of touching Dean, of establishing some physical connection to his brother, as if he needed some tangible proof that his brother was alive, was with him. The revelation should have made him release Dean, instead his grip became more possessive.
"How's the town?" Dean side stepped Sam's real question, knew by the darkness of the room that it had to have been many hours since Sam and Bobby had left for their scouting mission. Understood too that Alec had not wakened him when Sam had called to check in, and neither had Sam when he returned. 'Great, two little brothers who don't listen to a thing I tell them.'
Realizing that if he wanted to get to Dean's real issue, he would have to navigate through Dean's barriers, Sam answered his brother's question, truthfully. "It's a ghost town in that neighborhood," he sighed, felt guilty and shaken by the findings. "Even the bodies we hid out of sight are gone."
"Croatoan?" Dean lowly supplied, fought off a shiver at the memories of a whole town just….gone.
Sam gave a scoffing, bitter laugh, "Yeah, seems like it." Shaking his head, he returned to his initial concern: Dean. "So why are you awake?"
"Need to take a leak," Dean glibly announced, forcing a miserable smile to make a flickering appearance on his face before his look skittered away from Sam's worried, kind look. Internally Dean railed against the need to make his statement a plea for assistance, hated that his voice was so hoarse, broadcasted his exhaustion, though he had just awoken, bitterly despised how pathetically weak he was at the moment, that he was nearly helpless. Because it was wrong, on so many levels, that he needed help holding a stupid water glass or slurping down some broth, that he couldn't roll over, that he wouldn't be able to even get to the john without someone holding his hand. Unless, of course, crawling to the bathroom was an option.
Easily reading Dean's humiliation, disgust, and frustration at needing help, Sam felt a lump form in his throat. Fervently he wished he knew what words to say. Wished that he could tell Dean that this didn't put one dent in the respect he had for him, didn't mar his belief that his big brother was the strongest person he had ever known. He would say it all if only Dean would believe him, know it was the truth. Wouldn't think he was just patronizing him because he wasn't able to act bulletproof at the moment, had been proven to be vulnerable…human.
But Sam didn't have an opportunity to speak in the lull, Alec broke the silence instead.
"What? What's wrong?" Alec groggily asked of the room at large, struggling to get his eyes open, to assess the threat to Dean, to Sam, to his family. Dean's voice having worked like a trigger, getting his heart thudding in his chest, his adrenaline flowing and his muscles coiling for action, to take on anything that dared to threaten what he had fought so hard to keep.
Dean sighed. 'So much for this not turning into a big deal.' "Nothing's wrong. Go back to sleep, Alec," he ordered in that gentle coaxing tone he had used on child Sam, seemingly a thousand years ago.
But Alec was not Sam, had not grown up with someone taking care of him, lovingly. With someone seeking to protect him when something in the dark scared him. No, Alec had been taught that fear was a weakness he couldn't afford, darkness had its usefulness and that he was to be more concerned with protecting others, protecting assets than seeking protection himself. And Alec might be willing to argue the first two decrees but never the last, not since his greatest assets had turned out to be his brothers.
Shifting up on his elbow, his eyes making out Sam crouching by Dean's bed, Alec tersely questioned, "Sam?" unable to keep the apprehension out of his tone anymore than he could fight his frustration and panic at not being able to see Dean's face for himself, not with Sam crouched where he was. Because believing Dean's declaration that nothing was wrong?! Yeah, right, wasn't happening. Especially not after witnessing first hand a few hours ago how vulnerable Dean was, how broken his brother's body still was.
"Everything's fine, Alec," Sam assured, eyes not leaving Dean's profile, felt a smile tug up his lips when Dean gave an eye roll at Alec's over protectiveness. Dean's reaction, in a bizarre way, quieted his worry that Dean didn't actually want his help, would instead have preferred Alec's or Bobby's or even some stranger's help over his.
Trusting Sam, Alec felt the clench in his heart begin to loosen. Dropping his line of questioning, he asked instead, "Time is it?"
"'Bout 6," Sam provided, came to a stand and turned around, watched as Alec yawned, stretched. But there was tautness in the younger man's motions, tension that only fled when his eyes traveled to the other bed, when Alec, with his enhanced senses, saw Dean's face.
Having taken a crash course on how to read each of his brothers' body language to measure their level of pain, to interpret every nuisance of his brothers' expression for what they wouldn't say, would vehemently deny, Alec determined that pain wasn't emanating off of Dean, that whatever had roused Dean from sleep, it couldn't be cured by painkillers. Thought that news both good and bad.
Eyes shifting to Sam's, Alec sought to read his brother's emotions, to figure out what unstable territory they might be traversing at the moment. Sam, taking pity on his cluelessness, gave a miniscule jerk of his chin toward the bathroom door. Instantly Alec's gut tightened, knew that, no matter how much pain it had caused Dean to simply be elevated in bed, getting Dean to the bathroom was going to hurt his brother worse, so much worse. Again, guilt assaulted him that they weren't better equipped, like a hospital would be, to help Dean to heal, to recover now that the worst had passed, that his brother was out of danger of dying. Wondered anew if he should have told Sam that Dean had nearly passed out early, if he shouldn't have insisted that they take Dean to a hospital so that he wouldn't be in unnecessary pain, wouldn't be humiliated by their inadequacy to shelter him from his own weakness. Hadn't mentioned Dean's weakness, had kept quiet because he had some stupid notion that he was sheltering Dean…even from Sam. But now it was clear: how wrong he had been to not tell Sam. Seeing the way Sam stood by Dean's bed, offering Dean support and protection, detecting the taunt emotions roiling off of Sam, it was reminiscent of the protective stance Sam had effected when he and Bobby walked into the room yesterday. Made Alec understand the vow that had been in Sam's eyes, a vow that said he would die before he would leave his brother's side. A vow that was still there, hadn't wavered, wouldn't waiver.
'Sam's the very last person Dean needed sheltered from. But maybe Sam's right to shelter Dean from me. I'm the one who didn't keep my vow to Dean.' No, he had not kept his vow, not even after he came face to face with Dean lying on the floor, bloody, being torn apart, dying…and going to hell. And Ruby's knife was there for the taking. For his taking. 'I couldn't do it, I was never going to be able to do it.' His growing fear that Dean would figure that out had kept him tossing and turning most of the night, was like a weight tied to his soul, dragging him further away from his brothers every in was getting clearer to him that by his actions…his inaction, in a way, he had betrayed both of his brothers' trust.
Suddenly Alec needed to get out of the room, didn't want to be there when the love in his brothers' eyes for him shifted to disgust. "I should spot Bobby anyway," he announced as he climbed out of his bed, began rummaging around for his shoes. Acutely conscious of his brothers' presence, of being so close to them and knowing it might not last, that he might soon be unwelcome. It hurt him somewhere deep, in the soul the theologians couldn't decide if he even had.
Realizing that no one was getting any more sleep, Sam turned on the light on the nightstand between the beds. At the intrusion of light on his retinas, Dean clamped his eyes shut. Jerking his head left, Dean gave a disgruntle groan. Across the room, Sam watched as Alec located his shoes, slipped them on, hopping to keep his balance in the process, and then he headed for the door.
But as Alec reached for the door handle, he drew up short and shot a look over his shoulder at Sam, couldn't scamper away without making sure Sam hadn't changed his mind, didn't want his help after all. Couldn't throw away a chance to be with his brothers if they allowed it to him. Though there was apprehension in Sam's eyes, it didn't outshine the devotion Sam had for his brother, his need to be the one to help Dean, the awe that Dean, in his own way, was asking for his help. For a moment, Alec worried that Sam wasn't prepared for the level of help Dean would need, didn't realize how weak, vulnerable his brother was, that his own earlier omission of Dean's near collapse would have far reaching consequences. An omission he had made that he could admit wasn't all about sheltering Dean, was also about not letting Sam know he had hurt Dean.
Seeing by the worried crease in Alec's brow that Alec was on the verge of warning him how weak Dean was, how much help Dean would need, Sam pre-empted the eye opening lecture with two solemn words, "I know." Because he did know, knew Dean's body's limits probably better than his own, knew the scars Dean carried, inside and outside, also knew that Dean would protest, would rail, would fight him about being helped, about being coddled. Knew just as well that he wasn't going to back down, had nearly lost Dean, wasn't going to jeopardize his brother's life over an issue of pride…his or Dean's.
Accepting Sam's words for the declaration they were, reading the sorrow yet determination in his brother's eyes, Alec gave Sam a small smile of encouragement then he slipped out the door, left Dean in Sam's capable, gentle care. Left his brothers alone to take care of each other, like they had done all their lives. Thought darkly maybe that was the way it should remain.
When the door clicked shut behind Alec, Sam draw in a breath, wished there was easier ways to do this, ways that wouldn't hurt Dean, physically or emotionally. Turning his focus back to Dean, he quietly asked, "You ready to do this?" almost hurting at the sight of Dean, still so pale, the white bandages on his arm and chest stark reminders of what wounds lay hidden from sight.
"No," came Dean's hoarse reply but he rolled his head right, squinted up at Sam amid the lamp light that was still too bright. Then he raised his hand, waited for Sam to grip it and help him up. But he hated that his arm felt anchored to the bed, like there was a weight wrapped around his wrist. Grimaced when his chest gave a spike of pain and he hadn't even tried to sit up yet. Worried that he would have another repeat of earlier, go and faint on Sam like he almost had on Alec.
The flash of pain in Dean's eyes and across his features, it was bitter conformation of what Sam already knew. Was proof that he couldn't waiver on his decision, no matter how pissed Dean got. So, instead of gripping Dean's extended hand, he took a step backwards, watched Dean's eyes track him with a look of almost betrayal. Breathed out, "No."
Dean's brow creased in confusion even as he shot back, "No what?"
Swallowing, Sam fortified his barriers, knew that he had to be the big brother at the moment, had to take care of Dean, whether Dean liked it or not, whether Dean would admit he needed him to take the lead or not. "No I'm not going to let you hurt yourself more by downplaying your injuries," his voice gentle instead of accusing. "This…" and he waved his hand above his brother's bandaged chest, "isn't a wound that you ignore or force your body to overcame by willpower alone, Dean. None of your wounds are superficial. They all need time…and treatment to heal."
Uncomfortable with Sam calling out his weakness and getting a feeling in his gut about where it was all leading, Dean put down the law, "I'm not using a bed pan, Sam. And I'm not going to a hospital," he refused, knew, after Alec's earlier words, that Alec and Sam would gang up on him about that if he gave them the opening, which he wasn't. "I'm healing up fine right here," he forcefully claimed, eyes blazing into Sam's.
Not surprised by Dean's declaration, Sam shifted on his feet, didn't want this to turn into a confrontation. But more than that, he didn't want to hurt Dean, embarrass him, make his brother feel weak in any of the ways that truly mattered. "Fine, no bed pan, no hospital," he agreed, voice pitched careful, gentle, wanting to concede to Dean's wishes where he could, while he could.
Dean didn't relax at Sam's capitulation to his demands, instead his eyes darkened with dread. "So this is where a 'but' comes into the conversation."
"Buuuuttt," Sam purposefully drawled out, a smile making a hit and run on his features before he dove off the deep end, "that means you have to let me and Alec and Bobby help you. Really help you."
Dean scowled. Yup, the churning in his gut was right, this wasn't going to be good. "Really help me how?"
"In a hospital you would be restricted to bed…to a catheter, you know that right?" Sam stated, hoping his solution sounded better after he pointed out the alternative. Watching Dean's face twist in distaste at the image and the topic, he pressed on with his advantage, "So having someone…carry you to the bathroom is no big deal, right?" But Dean was shaking his head as soon as the word 'carry' was on the wind. "Yes, Dean."
"No! I can walk with some help…"
"Not my help," Sam heatedly shot back, willing to play hardball rather than put Dean's health at risk. "Not Alec's…or Bobby's. It's this way or no way."
"Get Alec in here," Dean growled, certain he could get help from his younger sibling since Sam was unwilling. He shifted on the bed, prepared to disprove Sam's assessment that he was too weak, had to be carried like a child.
'So much for having Dean's trust' Sam thought and it hurt, losing his brother's faith in him, made the idea of pulling Alec or Bobby in the room to deal with the situation appealing…and cowardly. Sometimes you hurt someone because you loved them, gave them that reputed tough love so they wouldn't do something unthinkable, like leave you, like friggin' die on you. "I'm not going anywhere…and neither are you, not without help."
And it was one of the hardest things Sam had ever consciously done: to stand there and watch his brother struggle, acutely aware that Dean was about to hurt himself. It was a small consolation to know that he had to let it happen to get through to Dean, had to make Dean see that he wasn't fine, wasn't alright, wasn't healed, couldn't do what he had always done: plow through the pain, make his body perform as if it weren't damaged. But more than that, he had to make Dean admit that he needed help. Had to get Dean to comprehend that he wanted to help him, him and Alec and Bobby. That they ached to help, to ensure that he didn't suffer any more, didn't endure pain that could be avoided.
Proud that he was doing it, was levering himself upright, was proving Sam wrong, Dean shifted higher off the bed, wasn't prepared for the white hot agony that tore through his chest. Renting the air with a sharp cry of pain, he collapsed back onto the bed which only erupted more shockwave of pain across his every nerve. And it was almost like he could feel the pressure of the hound on his chest, the powerful swipe of the merciless beast's claws turning his chest into confetti, could taste the metallic tang of death in his mouth again. Clamping his eyes shut, he wrapped his arms across his chest, coiling his hands into his own flesh to lessen the torture. But the agony, it didn't diminish, but burned hotter, stole breath and nearly consciousness from him. Trying to assuage the pain, he attempted to roll to his side, to curl into a ball and die if it could be proven to be less painful but the movement only ignited more pain in his chest and added chords of fiery pain from his torn up shoulder and leg.
Dean's cry went through Sam like a knife to the heart, had him flinching and hating himself for allowing Dean to hurt himself. And his hands ached to reach out to his brother, to offset his brother's agony that was almost a physical wave of energy in the room. Fists clenched at his side and eyes welling, he forced himself to not go to Dean, to stand stock still…keep Dean out of reach of his trembling hands. Had to bit his lip to not let a cry of his own escape when Dean pulled his legs up, attempted to curl in onto himself only to find even that reflex was denied him by his body. That was Sam's last straw. He was incapable of bearing a second more of Dean's agony, of his separation from his brother when Dean needed him, when he needed Dean. Giving a swipe at his drowning eyes, he cautiously claimed a seat on the bed by Dean's hip, tried his best not to shift bed or brother.
Eyes fixed on Dean's bloodless face and closed eyes, Sam reached a trembling hand out to Dean's hand, uncoiled his brother's grip from his exposed skin along his ribs and slid his own hand in as a replacement anchor against the pain. Instantly his hand was nearly crushed, told Sam how much pain his brother was in without words, without some doctor's scale of 1 to 10. "Dean," he choked out, sounding like he was the one in pain, was the one that needed help instead of being the one offering it. But seeing Dean in this level of agony, it broke him, had him seeking out the person who always made things alright for him when his world was imploding: his big brother.
Dean acknowledged his need by a murmured hum/grunt of sound that meant the equivalent of a patient 'what Sam?' or an encouraging, 'I'm in too much pain to speak but I still hear you little brother, we're still together.'
"I would have carried you out of Hell if I had too, Dean," Sam brokenly confessed, giving his brother's hand a squeeze, watched as Dean's eyelids fluttered open and his brother's pain hued eyes meet his, not with shame but sudden understanding…even gratitude. "So carrying you to the bathroom? To the car for a few days until you're stronger? It beats the alternative a billion times over," he solemnly said, voice hoarse as his emotions sought to choke him up. "Is a friggin' dance party …" he tagged on with a tremulous smile, was striving for lightness, wanted to make Dean see that it wasn't a big deal, wasn't anything he wouldn't do for him, that Dean hadn't done for him in the past…might be called upon to do for him in the future. Was just what brothers did for each other.
"You have a twisted idea… of what constitutes a dance party," Dean teased back with a breathless tempo, voice still rough with pain. But there was acceptance in his eyes where there had been opposition, appreciation at his brother's offered assistance where there had been humiliation minutes before.
"My being twisted, it's your influence," Sam shot back with a quirk of his lips but apprehension marred the expression, as he put his right hand on top of Dean's knee, could feel the minuscule tremors still surging through his brother's body in reaction to the waves of pain. It made his next words catch in his throat even more then his words already were. "You won't heal overnight, Dean. No one's expecting you to." When Dean's eyes dropped from his own in shame, he swallowed hard, felt like whatever ground he had won in the debate he was losing. Removing his hand from Dean's knee he reached out, caught Dean's chin in his grip and tilted his brother's face up to meet his gaze. "You have nothing to prove, Dean! To me …or Alec or Bobby and even to yourself! You were preparing to be die and you smiled at me Dean…" but his next words were nearly a sob, "You smiled…" because he remembered standing in that room in New Harmony, remembered Dean's smiling at him, a smile that told him his brother loved him, tried to prove that Dean was alright with dying and he should be too. "You were lying on the floor bleeding out, dying and you told me I did good, that I saved you. That sound like acts of a coward to you!? You willingly gave up your soul to save me, Dean! That sound like someone I should just turn my back on, would ever turn my back on?! Someone I would abandon just because he's not invincible, is human enough to need some help once in a while from me? If you think that…" but he couldn't continue, broke off his words and shook his head. Letting his hand trail down from his brother's face to come to rest on his collarbone, he looked away for a moment, needed to regroup, hated that he was supposed to be strong for Dean and he was falling apart himself. "Dean, just…" he breathed out, entreated, uncertain how to ask Dean to just let him be his brother. Rising his eyes again to Dean's, he was surprised to see a shimmering of tears in Dean's eyes and a tremble in his chin, was proof that he was reaching Dean, getting it through his brother's thick skull that no one thought he was weak, a coward, not even if he had to carry him the rest of his life.
And Dean got it, saw what Sam was trying to tell him. That what was between them, what Sam was asking of him, needed from him, it wasn't about strength or weakness but was about love, about taking care of the people you loved, about doing anything for them, willingly, even gladly. Even if that meant carting their pathetic butts to the bathroom. "So am I looking at a refund on Alec's defective super blood or what?" he asked, striving for lightness, wanted humor to replace the tense emotions in the room, was rewarded with Sam's eyes lighting up with indignation.
"Defective?!" Sam sputtered, sitting more upright at the outrageous slam. "You would be dead without his 'super' blood. That or you would be a vegetable lying in some…" but seeing the smile growing on Dean's pale features, he cut himself off grumbled, "Jerk," with affection as he realized that he had played right into Dean's hands. That his brother was purposefully taunting him.
Shoving the covers off himself, hating that it felt like he was moving boulders instead of thin sheets, Dean was relieved that he was clad in boxers still because he had some pride left to guard. "Come on, if you wait any longer to help me to the bathroom, this argument will be for nothing," he grumbled, hand reaching for the IV still tethered to his hand. He wasn't all that surprised when his actions were stalled by Sam's grip.
"Let me do that," Sam groused, gently shoving Dean's hand aside, hiding his relief that Dean was agreeing to his help, wasn't going to make him force the issue, be the bad guy. Slowly he withdrew the needle and deftly replaced it with a sterile pad that he taped to his brother's flesh. Focusing back on his brother's face, he watched as Dean removed the oxygen tubing. Was about to ask for specific permission to carry Dean when his brother made the first move by raising his back off the bed but only far enough to allow him to slip his hand underneath
Nearly choked up by the trust Dean was showing him, Sam slid his hands under Dean's back and knees, felt Dean's body tighten in pain at even the small contact and shift. "Sorry," he breathed before he lifted Dean fully into his arms, like he had when he picked up a bloody, dying Dean off the floor in New Harmony. His brother's moan of pain pierced him through the heart but he didn't stop his motion, drew Dean more fully into his hold until Dean's body rested against his own. Feeling Dean's head sink down onto his shoulder, he could hear his brother's shallow, rapid breathing that was a replacement for screaming in agony. Tried to shut down his own reactions because, touching Dean, holding Dean, it was like connecting with a live wire, made all his senses came alive. He could easily detect the trembling in his brother's frame, the slight heat coming off of his brother's slowly healing body, taunted him with the undeniable fact that Dean was vulnerable, was in agony…and he wasn't helping any of that. Was in fact making it worse. Cursing himself, he gripped tighter to Dean, torn between getting Dean to the bathroom and putting Dean back onto the bed, asking Alec to take over, for something to do this better, to not hurt Dean, to help him.
"I hate dogs," Dean rasped out, found he needed a distraction. But more than that, he needed something to anchor him, to keep him from crumbling under the agony, succumbing to the pull of unconsciousness, something..or someone to hold onto like Sam was holding onto him. Feeling five, he, none the less, twisted his fingers in his brother's shirt, held onto something tangible, onto someone who was holding him back.
Dean's grumbled complaint and the grip of Dean's hand on his shirt allowed Sam to breathe again, to let air once again seep into his lungs. Gave him the ability to be the strength Dean needed because Dean was the strength he needed. Proving again that their roles hadn't really changed, Dean was still the stronger of the two, still the big brother saving little brother by reforging their connection.
"Don't worry, I won't tell Joshua," Sam promised, a smirk turning up his lips at Dean's snort. Then, refocused and steadied, Sam walked to the bathroom, careful to not jostle Dean, or catch his brother's legs on the bathroom door. "Alright, I'm going to put you down, just lean against me, don't put pressure on your injured leg."
"Yes, mom," Dean mumbled but the next second a hiss of air escaped him as Sam followed through on his threat by bending over and setting him onto the ground. Wobbly on his one legged stand and finding himself lightheaded, Dean was relieved that his tilt was stopped by the comforting contact with his brother's body.
Barely straightening in time to pull Dean back against his chest to steady him, Sam, careful to avoid the bandages on his brother's chest, wrapped his arm around Dean's waist, cinched his brother to him. "You OK?" he asked worriedly. The silence that greeted his question had him looking to Dean's turned profile. Seeing the confusion, even disgust in his brother's expression, he followed his brother's line of sight to the mirror above the sink.
Numbly, Dean reached his hand up to his chest, to touch the thick cotton bandages taped to his chest, his eyes never leaving his reflection, a reflection of someone who didn't look like him, was too pale, too weak, who was showing more bandages than skin. "I look dead," he said bleakly, unaware that he had said the words aloud until Sam spoke.
"Well you're not," Sam sharply stated, conviction, relief coiled in his words even as he tightened his grip on his brother. Wanted physical proof that he wasn't lying, needed to be reassured that Dean was there, wasn't going anywhere either.
Flashes of memory hit Dean: Pinned to the table, then the savage claws of the hell hound on his leg, dragging him to the floor, ripping into his back, his shoulder….his chest. Knowing in that moment that he was going to die, was going to go to hell. Believing that there was no hope left. Not for him. With trembling fingers he reached for the edge of the bandage, needed to see the damage for himself, to know this wasn't just some trick of Hell, that it was real, that Sam was real that he wasn't dead and just didn't know it.
Guessing Dean's intentions, Sam, with a warning call of "Dean", reached around Dean and captured Dean's hand in his own, forestalling his brother's actions.
"I need to see, Sam," Dean quietly insisted, his eyes meeting Sam's in the mirror.
"Later," Sam denied, tightening his grip on Dean's hand, not wanting Dean to see what was underneath the bandages, not until it had time to heal, until the flesh didn't look so savagely ripped apart.
"Now," Dean replied, his words soft, imploring, could sense that Sam didn't want him to see, just as he knew he had to. That he had to put things together in his head, had to accept the reality of his wounds, of being alive, to know that he wasn't in some twisted time loop in hell.
Dean's tone, the look in his eyes, it told Sam his brother's need wasn't about pride, it was about needing reality, needing to see for himself how bad his wounds were, to come to terms with what he had been through, to accept that he had survived. Still it was hard to release his grip on Dean's hand, to stand by as Dean pulled the bandages loose, felt the tension in Dean's body as the wounds were cruelly revealed in the mirror's reflection. His breath left him when Dean's did. Unconsciously, he held Dean tighter in his grip. Without his shields of medic to hide behind, he was not concentrating on rationalizing or analyzing the wounds, saw them as Dean would see them.
The sight of the wounds knocked the breath right out of Dean. His knees weaken even as Sam's grip on him tightened, ensuring that he wasn't going to collapse, wasn't getting out of his brother's hold. His hand trembled as he lightly traced the ripped flesh, the row of neat, black stitches. He winced at the contact, at the pain even his cursory touch ignited. Wondered anew how he was alive, how he had survived this. Knew one of the reasons was at his back, was holding onto him tightly but gently, hadn't let him go and had no plans of letting him go now. And another was standing outside the motel room, willing to protect him against all comers, even Hell's best.
"Alec's blood might not be able to heal you overnight but Alec said it will make sure you don't have a lot of scarring, might not have any external scarring after a few months," Sam reassured, didn't want Dean to think he had to be reminded of how close he had come to going to hell every time he took his shirt off, that he would be disfigured where the world could see it. 'I wish I could do something to take away your internal scars, Dean. But I can't.'
Lifting his gaze from his wound to land on Sam's eyes in the mirror, Dean saw an apology in Sam's eyes, a thousand regrets for not sparing him this pain, for not stopping Lilith earlier, for not heading all this off at the pass. If anyone understood that level of regret, he did. "Having you and Alec wait on me hand and foot for awhile, that's a fair trade off for not ending up scaring the ladies off by looking like Edward Scissor Hands," he stated, a satisfied smile turning up his lips, hoping his joke erased the guilt in Sam's eyes. Seeing the relief in Sam's reflection, he pulled his eyes from the mirror, turned his focus on his bladder's demands. "Ok, now give me some privacy, dude."
Bowing his head until it rested against Dean's shoulder blades, Sam stated, "Trust me, I have no intention of looking."
"Sam?!" Dean huffed in frustration, knowing Sam hadn't misinterpreted his order.
"If you've turned shy, I can sing at the top of my lungs so I don't hear anything?" Sam offered, half in jest and half in truth. Air whooshed out of him in the next second when his brother's elbow rammed into his ribs.
SNDASNDASNDASNDASNDA
Seeing Dean sitting up in the bed, sans the oxygen canal and the IV and looking like he was truly on the mend eased the tension in Bobby, dispelled the last reservation he had about heading home that day. Was glad that Alec and Sam had actually left him alone with Dean for a change, that one of them wasn't hovering in the background like they had been for the past week. Coming to a stand beside Dean's bed, he said, "Since you boys have everything under control, I'm going to head out today."
But his declaration produced a worried frown on Dean's face. "You're leaving me at the mercy of Sam and Alec?! They think I still need their help getting to the john and they won't let me step one foot outside the room yet. Was hoping you would stick around, run some interference for me," his eyes hopeful, pleading.
"Run interference? Against those two?!" Bobby scoffed, shaking his head. "Love ya, kid, but forget it. You're on your own. I learned a long time ago that getting between a wounded Winchester and a protective Winchester was more deadly than going up against a momma grisly bear."
"Chicken," Dean muttered but it only caused the older hunter to laugh.
"No arguments on that one," Bobby conceded with mirth. Then he held out his hand and Dean shook it. He held Dean's hand a moment , met Dean's eyes, hoped the kid knew the words weren't throw away ones, that he did love him. When Dean nodded, it was acknowledgement enough for him and he released the younger man's hand from his grip. "Stop giving me grey hairs, kid. Take care of yourself…and those two brothers of yours."
Dean raised his eyebrows at Bobby's inclusion of Alec in the brother tally, hadn't gotten a real vibe if the older hunter had come to accept Alec's role in the Winchester family or not. "Brothers?"
"Yeah, brothers," Bobby gruffly conceded, though in truth, he had come to like Alec, to appreciate the kid's presence in their lives, to think that he just might deserve the loyalty and love Sam and Dean were lavishing on him. "Not only does the kid have the misfortune of looking like you but he's got your smart mouth and Sam's stubbornness. Not to mention the Winchester tenacity to do the impossible to save one of his brothers. Hard to believe he didn't grow up with you and Sam," he concluded with a shake of his head.
"Oh, don't worry, I plan to teach him lots of things," Dean promised, a light of mischief in his eyes.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of. Now I'll have another Winchester I have to bail out of the fire. Man, I need a vacation." Then he headed for the door, turned around to face Dean when the oldest Winchester called his name, a vulnerability in his tone.
"Bobby…thanks …for everything," Dean earnestly said even as he knew the words were inadequate for all the older man had done for his family, for him. Part of him hated that he had dragged his friend into the drama with his crossroad deal from practically day one, even as he was grateful for the man's steadfast loyalty to him. Knew Bobby had offered Sam a listening board to all of his off-the-wall schemes to get him free of the deal. That whenever they called, Bobby answered, whenever they needed someone to have their backs, the older man was there…even when their backs were up against the wall, when twelve strikes of a clock could have been it for all of them. "I know you didn't have to be here but I'm really glad you were. Not just for me but for Sam…for Alec."
Bobby didn't belittle Dean's gratitude, simply nodded his head, "Family sticks with family….you taught me that one, son." Then Bobby slipped out the door before the kid saw him get all misty eyed and he ruined his tough guy reputation once and for all. With a wave to Sam and Alec, who were packing up the Impala, and a "You boys be careful. Call me if you need me", he climbed into his car. Found he was somewhat relieved to be heading home even as he knew that part of his heart would be traveling around in a 1967 Chevy Impala, getting into more trouble than he even gave them credit for. Knew just as certainly that loving those boys, it was worth the grey hairs, every last one of them.
SNDASNDA
TBC
SNDASNDA
Thanks for spending time with this story!
Have a great day!
Cheryl W.