Memories & Demons
Chapter Eight
Singer Salvage, Sioux Falls, SD:
"Goddamn, stupid, stubborn, mule headed idjits!" Bobby Singer growled in a low deep voice since he was struggling not to shout in his own home but didn't want to disturb the two people that were still asleep while he wished the other fool would go to sleep. "All three of you…well, no, I won't lump your brother into this."
"Gee thanks, Booby," Dean muttered, still working his sore shoulder cautiously since he knew if he popped a single stitch the older man would probably slap him upside the head with something. "How about you tell me how you really feel?"
Slapping a book closed on his desk, Bobby spun the wheelchair around his desk in a tight turn that had even Castiel reaching in case it tipped over. "Your brother looks like hell and I hate to see the wounds he's got that we can't see. You won't let me near Morgan but when you decide to put a fist through my wall I can guess she's not much better and you…you had a damn bullet hole in your shoulder that shoulda bled out," he shook his head. "I thought it was a simple witch's curse? How'd the hell all this happen, Dean?" he demanded sourly.
Fingering the untouched shot glass of whiskey, Dean considered that as he wondered the same thing. He had basically come to accept that the whole witch thing had been a ruse to just lure him and Sam into the mix…which was something else he'd have to deal with since he knew that if his brother was bad with guilt then he'd come by it through osmosis. Morgan would be blaming herself for getting them involved and that was just something else for Dean to add to his growing list of things to handle.
After leaving Birkstown, West Virginia behind and none too soon in his opinion, Dean figured he'd only driven perhaps ninety minutes before Castiel appeared in the front seat of the Impala and without a word the next thing Dean knew was that the car was sitting in front of Bobby's house.
Growling about giving a guy warning to settle his stomach first, he was quickly out of the car and opening the back door to be sure that sudden impromptu method of traveling hadn't affected either Sam or their friend but both remained, thankfully, unconscious.
It took a snarling order from a very grumpy and alarmed Bobby to get Dean to allow Castiel to handle getting Sam inside the house but the young hunter accepted that even asleep, Morgan's weakened powers might react to any Angel. Not wanting Castiel friend, he took the job of carrying the young British woman into Bobby's house.
Bobby had taken one look at the trio, swore to beat the crap out of someone later until he got a good answer and started snapping orders.
Torn being between caring for his brother, whose worst wound physically that he had seen was the gash on his arm and what appeared to be a deeply infected bite on his thigh, and checking on the wounds he knew Morgan had increased, Dean had appeared lost for a moment until again his friend spoke.
"You can take care of Sam and let me look at her or…" Bobby hadn't gotten the rest of the sentence out before Dean was heading upstairs, figuring that Cas could help Bobby look at Sam from where they'd laid him on the sofa seat in the library. "Yep, sorta guessed that'd be his answer."
Dean had forgotten what it was like to take care of someone other than his brother but at the first sign of agitation in his friend, he remembered that even asleep she could be dangerous when he was quick to grab a fist that had gone for his throat. It took him well over an hour to check Morgan's injuries…most of which he swore to kill that medic for not treating good enough. After he'd cleaned and dressed injuries that he hoped never to have to deal with again in his life, he'd slipped her under the covers of the bed he normally used when staying over at Bobby's before going downstairs to check on his brother.
He'd made it about halfway down the hall before the rage took over as memories of the damn burned in mark on the small of her back kept replaying itself and he could hear the small whimpers she'd made in her uneasy sleep as he cleaned it. He didn't remember slamming his fist into the wall…until Bobby had shouted up the steps that any damage he did he had to pay for.
"Dean!" Bobby snapped, waving a hand in front of his face to bring the elder Winchester brother back into the conversation. "Didja hear anything that I just said to you?" he demanded sourly, figuring the boy hadn't since he'd looked a million miles away.
"Ask the mystic or the merc when one of them show up what the hell went wrong," Dean muttered, bone wearily tired but knew he still had a ways to go before he'd allow himself to sleep when his exhausted green eyes lifted to the ceiling as if searching for something only he could see or feel. "I need to be up there with them," he pushed to his feet and seemed oblivious to when Castiel's hand steadied him for a moment. "Sam'll be scared if he wakes up and I'm not there and…well, let's just say that depending on what I find out later, Morgan probably won't be too thrilled to be waking up here."
That made Bobby consider something and he went back to putting away the first aid kit he'd opened when looking Sam over. "Still hasn't told you anything, has she?" but he could tell by the way the boy stopped just inside the library door that he had been told something of that summer.
"You mean besides that you knew she went after Dad when Pastor Jim called her?" Dean replied in a voice that warned the older hunter that this was dangerous ground. A fact he knew was true when the boy looked over his shoulder at him, weariness, pain, and loss obvious in his eyes. "Did you know that Sammy wrote to her from a couple months after she left to probably a few weeks before I showed back up in his life?" he asked, the trace of bitterness plain. "She wrote to my brother but not to me…even though she said she did…but I…I just don't get why Sam wouldn't have told me that Morgan wrote to him or…"
"You jump that girl about the letters?" Bobby demanded, taking his hat off to ran a restless hand through what hair he had left after a lifetime of watching these boys grow up.
"Uhh, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes, waving his good hand restlessly. "I was kind of pissed to find out that my little brother had been writing to her, even after he left for school, and she wrote back to him but not a word to…"
The medical kit flying into a wall startled Dean enough to make him fall silent while Castiel merely remained silent from his vantage point in the corner. "Goddamn it, boy! You are so much like your Daddy at times that I could slap you in the head!" Bobby growled. "Yeah, she wrote back to Sam…but he never saw a single letter in return."
"Why would he keep writing if he never saw a letter back and why didn't he?" Dean was now so confused his head was hurting. "She didn't quite say that she wrote back but I assumed she had or he wouldn't have kept writing and I can see why she wouldn't write to me…"
"Damn it, Dean! She did write to you!" the older man snapped, throwing two thick packets at him. "She wrote to both you boys but…"
Catching the packets with one hand, Dean ruffled through the thickest bundle to see that they were all addressed to…him care of Robert Singer and it was like a kick to the gut as he began to gauge the dates. "The first one's dated less than a week after she'd left," he murmured, recalling how raw he'd been for months after the girl had run from him without a word.
Continuing to glance at dates, Dean noticed there was always a letter close to his birthday or close to the time when his Mom was killed. He noticed the letters seemed to increase in frequency after Sam had left for college. Looking more closely now, he began to see a pattern in the later letters. There was one shortly after the fire at Stanford, the writing on the envelope that had been sent after the incident with that Rawhead and he'd nearly electrocuted himself seemed smudged as…as if liquid, like tears, had dropped on the words only to be wiped away. There was a thicker letter sent around the time of his Father's death after he'd given his save to save Dean's own , another around the time of Sam's death at Cold Oak and so on, but it was the date on the last letter that made him falter. "The last few letters she sent to me, one was sent a week before my deal came due and the last…she wrote it to come the day of."
"Sonuvabitch," looking rapidly at the dates of the letters addressed to his brother, Dean saw a similar pattern emerging as a letter seemed to arrive around an important time in Sam's life, including his later teenage years, the fights with John, the night he'd left, the fire where Jessica had been killed. One was dated shortly after the whole Scarecrow mess where he and Sam had fought and split up for a brief time…when he'd met Meg, again around the time of the accident and John's deal, to the whole mess with the Yellow Eyed Demon, Sam's death and the opening of the Devil's Gate. Skipping ahead, Dean looked but already knew what he'd find even before he saw the date of the letters increased to Sam around the year that Dean had left before going to Hell. "Her last letter to Sam is dated four days after my return from the Pit," he slowly let his eyes raise to lock on Bobby', anger and hurt showing in his eyes as he fought to not take a step back into the room. "You've had these all along," Dean whispered, realization dawning on him. "You've known that she was writing to us and you never told us! You never told ME!"
"Dean…" the older man began but shut up when the boy stormed out without another word and Bobby slumped back in the chair with a disgusted sigh. "That went well," he muttered.
"I'm guessing that hiding things from Dean wouldn't be a well received thing to him," Castiel decided, having watched the scene unfold curiously. "Those letter clearly mean something to him, why would you hide them from him and Sam?"
Reaching over to take the untouched glass of whiskey that Dean had ignored, which worried Bobby a lot if he were honest, and downing it with a kiss, he eyed the Angel balefully. "If you think those two idjits are stubborn, their Daddy was a hundred times worse," Bobby scowled as he remembered. "I kept those letters because I knew that if John ever found out Morgan was writing to his boys he'd be livid and would probably do something stupid which would upset Dean," he poured another drink. "I kept 'em from the boys because I also knew the lies John told Dean. Back then, that boy was so raw with his hurt that he'd never listen to her and Sam…poor kid didn't deserve anything that went t down that night and the only reason I didn't kill John Winchester that night was because of the boys and Morgan didn't want Dean finding out the truth. Now, I don't know what she'll tell him or how he'll react but I doubt if this house'll see any peace once those two get into that," he sighed, noticing the Angel's gaze had sharpened. "Mystic or hotshot merc?"
"Both," Castiel replied, feeling the power signature of his nephew. "Jack's just arrived and his friend's will be arriving shortly. I take it you plan to have words with them over this?"
"Words, sure," Bobby agreed, pulling the sawed-off shotgun he kept attached to his wheelchair for just such occasions. "After I give him both here a good piece of my mind with a little buckshot," he growled, heading for the front door. "The last damn mystical brat that stepped foot on my land nearly had his own head blasted off, what makes you think you'll fare any better?"
Upstairs:
Forcing his bitterness and anger aside, Dean paused just inside the door to the bedroom that he and Sam had always shared and his hard gaze seemed to soften as he took in the beds.
Sam had slept through being brought into the house, being examined by Bobby and the awkward trip up the steps since Dean refused to allow Castiel to use his usual means of transportation on his brother.
Now, Dean noticed that Sam had turned on his side and was clutching the ragged blanket that Dean had dug clear into the bottom of his brother's duffel to find since he knew that was where he'd kept it since Morgan had left it back in Oregon. It was much to small now to cover his giant little brother's 6'4" frame so Sam had taken to clinging to it as he had that summer after a bad dream.
That summer Dean couldn't recall his brother going anywhere without that blanket and it wasn't until a few months ago that he learned why, after the night Morgan had left them, that he hadn't seen it until Oregon. Sam had slipped it into the girl's bag when she left so she, in his words, wouldn't forget them. As Dean was slowly coming to understand, Morgan hadn't forgotten them but it probably looked to her like the other way around.
"Sshh, Sammy," he soothed his brother when he noticed the tension on Sam's face as he slept and lightly carded his fingers through his brother's now reasonably clean hair until he seemed to relax again and not for the first time did Dean consider how innocent Sam looked when he slept. Like this, he was still the little brother that needed Dean to protect him from the monsters in the closet. Like this, he wasn't the brother that Dean had let fall to pieces by leaving him alone when he went to Hell. He wasn't the brother that Dean had abandoned with that demon skank. Like this, he was just Sammy and it surprised him how badly it hurt to think of the damn pain his little brother had gone through that might have been prevented if Dean had just swallowed his damn pride and picked up a phone anytime during that year he had left before the deal came do.
A sudden whimper made him look down to see his brother's hand reaching out and if Dean hadn't been sitting on the edge of his bed, Sam would have rolled straight out onto the floor. This was another reminder to Dean just how far Sam's mind had gone back since as a child his brother had been a restless sleeper when sick or frightened.
"Whoa there, Tiger," he started to ease Sam back away from the edge when he felt the slightest pulse of gentle energy and his brother murmured testily in his sleep but flipped onto this stomach while keeping the blanket tight to his chest and it didn't take Dean but a second to know what had happened. "Even asleep you still protect him, don't you?" he spoke softly while moving to sit on the edge of his own bed to gaze down at Morgan.
Still pale, her face showed the bruises of those days of captivity but the worse injuries he knew aside from the ones on her back were mental since as he learned once, Morgan could maintain a great façade until the shell broke. Between knowing that she'd been used to get them involved, to how badly Sam had been hurt to also knowing that Dean wanted answers, he knew she was burying the pain and thought how that would probably play out.
Brushing his knuckles down the side of her cheek, Dean was relieved to feel it warm but not dangerously hot as it once had been. Reaching over to the nightstand between the beds, he ran his mother's necklace through his fingers and thought back fifteen years.
"What the hell aren't you or Bobby telling me, Morg?" he asked the room in general, leaning down to brush a soft kiss over her lips before sliding to sit on the floor between the beds so he'd be close to both of them. Reaching for the bundle of letters addressed to him, spreading them out on the floor to wonder if he wanted to read them, if it would make a difference now to know what they letters said. "Yeah, I just probably won't like it."
Letting his head rest back against his bed while stretching his legs out as best he could in the cramped space, Dean allowed his eyes to fall close while his memories went back to another time. A time that he had tried to forget for the past fifteen years, a time when his little brother was actually happy and could laugh freely without fear or doubt. A time when Sam could be a normal twelve year old boy seeking to be really annoying when he wanted to be…
Flashback, Sierra Mountains, Nevada, 1995:
It was the stillness in the air that first woke him up and it was that difference that told sixteen-year-old Dean Winchester that he wasn't in Jim Murphy's house any longer.
Familiar instincts of protectiveness began to kick in since if he didn't know where he was then that also meant he didn't know where his brother was and he'd be damned if he'd lose Sam again…or let him be hurt.
Sure that he would've known if his Dad had come back for them, Dean's eyes pried themselves open finally to see that he was in, what had to be, the largest bedroom that he'd ever seen in his life. Looking around blearily but still with a hunter's eye, he noticed the fire burning in the large stone fireplace that kept the room heated along with the mountain of blankets that already covered him.
Groaning, Dean pushed up to an elbow to shove the blankets away to see that he was dressed only in his sleep pants. He figured a shirt was out due to the amount of…frowning when he glanced down he was mildly surprised to find that the mass of welts and bruises that he knew he should have didn't seem to be that bad or had vanished completely.
"What…the hell?" voice raspy from…hell, even he wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd finally passed out at Pastor Jim's place. He had brief flashes of hearing voices, of hearing his scared little brother and also another, much softer, voice more recently but his memories just weren't coming together.
Looking around, he spotted his duffel at the foot of the bed but a quick look told him it was empty which made him even more concerned as his tired, still swollen eyes, took in a not so comfortable looking chair situated by the massive queen sized bed. Trying to decide if the place looked familiar, Dean's panic level was notching upward when he heard the bedroom door open.
Expecting to hear his Father's stern and furious voice, Dean whirled and tried to stand all at the same time and came close to passing out again as he fell back onto the bed while pain seared through his body to remind him just how hurt he was.
"If it's clothes you'll be lookin' for, young Master Dean, they're in the dresser over there," a brisk, matronly voice spoke with a heavy Irish brogue as the short and portly body that went with it bustled into the room with clean linens and began to build up the fire. "And if you're looking for any of the mass of an arsenal that you and the young Miss like to carry on your person then don't because you won't be havin' any need for those things here. Plus, such weapons shouldn't be around a lad of Master Samuel's age…which I'm still having a devil of a time explaining to the Miss," she went on easily, moving to the dresser to remove clean jeans, a heavy shirt, and a sweater that she proceeded to hand to him while sitting a new pair of boots beside him. "Tis more than cold out there today so you'll be wantin' to bundle up while I go about seeing to dinner and getting your brother inside before he catches his death."
Blinking at the rapid fast conversation, Dean's hazy mind picked up a few lines but only locked onto one. "Sam's outside?" he repeated, relief that his brother seemed to be safe quickly turned to suspicion. "Where are we?" he demanded, forcing his voice to try to be stronger even as a glass of water was forced into his shaking hand. "Where's my brother, who're you, where's Pastor Jim and…"
"Blessed Saints, lad, but you are full of as many questions as that little one was," she chuckled with her hand on the door. "I'm Molly and I take care of the cabin for Master Kelly's family when they come here. Now, I've been helping the lass take care of you and let me tell you what a rip roaring bad patient you can be, bucko," she chided, rolling her eyes as she swept out of the room. "You take your time getting dressed and…Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Agnus McCellen, get your fat ass in gear old man and get that lad off that pile of snow before he falls off and breaks a bone!" she snapped angrily before lapsing into a language Dean couldn't handle.
"Ooookay," he breathed, managing to get into the jeans without passing out and while he was breathing harder after pulling the T-shirt over his head, he did get the over-shirt buttoned without too much hassle but decided against even attempting the heavy wool sweater.
Not happy that he didn't have any type of weapon on hand and he didn't know where the hell he and Sam were, Dean decided to play along until he got a better idea of the situation and then, if he needed to, act.
Stepping out of the bedroom, he saw a long hall with several other doors that led eventually to what would be considered the Great Room and he could certainly see why. The main room of what he now knew was a huge log cabin was massive with a vaulted ceiling that must have topped out at nine or so feet with polished wood beams, long glass windows occupied two sides while another was mainly occupied by a large natural stone fireplace with some type of animal mounted above it.
"Yeah, definitely not Jim's," he muttered with a low whistle that made his face hurt as he wandered closer to the side door that led outside to an all white exterior. Blinking at the massive amount of snow that he was seeing, Dean's hand opened the door and nearly gasped as his sore chest took in the first gust of freezing cold air when he heard a voice that made him think he was still hallucinating.
"Dev! Get down here and zap that pesky kid back in front of me before he freezes his butt off or Molly kills me!"
"You lose the kid, boss?" a younger man's voice asked from somewhere that Dean couldn't place when he heard the indignant snort that he knew he'd never forget as long as he lived.
"No, I did not lose him," she retorted smartly. "He's hiding. His drop dead gorgeous but huge pain in my ass big brother has been teaching Sammy tricks that I wasn't expecting and…"
Swearing in several languages, Morgan Harrison tore around the side of the cabin as best she could in snow nearly past her knees when she came to a stumbling halt at the sight of him leaning in the door. "Dean," she whispered, breath coming out as fog as their eyes locked and his smirk was unmistakable.
"You lose my little brother, Morgan?" he inquired, determined not to show how seeing her right now was affecting him.
Just in the process of repeating how she had not lost Sam, a tiny giggle from under a well-formed, a too well-formed, snow pile warned her of what she was certain was the boy's brilliant plan of getting even with her for hiding the cookies from him this morning. Sliding her eyes to see that Dean's gaze had followed hers with a frown, she arched a brow slightly.
"I'll give you a fifteen second head start to get back inside, find the biggest towel or heavy blanket that Molly has, and brace yourself before our cute, adorable little abominable Sammy latches onto you and doesn't let go," she offered easily, seeing him hesitate a second. Morgan knew the choice he'd make even before he took a step farther out the door. "Don't say I didn't warn you, slick."
Holding her amused eyes, Dean also caught something else in them. Worry and exhaustion but then he chose to concentrate on the giggling mound of snow. "Sammy! You becoming a penguin or a polar bear under all that snow or what?" he asked in as strong a voice as he could manage right then.
Preparing for his snowball assault, Sam hadn't been expecting the deeper voice of…"Dean!" he popped up out of his snowy cover and managed to get through the high piles of snow to throw himself against his brother with pure joy. "You're awake!" he chanted, relief clear as he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist tightly. "Morgan said you would be soon but it's been so long and you were so hot for awhile and screaming that…"
"Sammy," Morgan laid a gentle hand on the back of his neck to try to halt his flow of words but knew it was too late when a pair of green eyes snapped up to hers with both confusion and question clear. "Let's get you inside and changed into dry clothes before dinner…and now Dean'll need dry clothes too."
Large hazel eyes looked up to watch his brother but Sam didn't immediately let go. He seemed to be considering something but was almost afraid to ask it when Morgan gently eased his arms free to whisper something in his ear that had him nodding.
Sam, as Dean knew well, was small even for his age though he was starting to grow now but despite only being two years younger than Morgan, he was smaller than the she was. However, it still shocked and worried Dean when his normally independent little brother let her pick him up for the short trip inside the cabin.
"Well, tis a good thing I've prepared hot towels and hot cocoa considering how you both look," Molly huffed good naturedly as she took in the sight while coming over to easily heft a sleepy looking Sam out of Morgan's arms to head for the kitchen. "You'll be changing out of those wet clothes, Miss," she called briskly, eyeing Dean critically. "Change the top shirt, lad and put the sweater on while I take care of this one."
"Who or what is she?" Dean asked very softly, not wanting to get on the woman's bad side but noticed that Morgan wasn't looking at him as she headed down the hall to a room right next to his. "Alright, next question is, what the hell happened, where the hell are we, where's Dad, and how long have I been out?" he demanded all in one breath as he followed her into a bedroom that he took was hers but also noticed it wasn't nearly as large as the one he woke up in.
Having spent the day concentrating on distracting Sam, Morgan hadn't allowed herself the strength to deal with Dean just yet. She knew he'd have questions, she knew he'd still be hurt despite her best efforts to heal what she could, but she hadn't been expecting the way her heart had slammed into her ribs at the sight of him leaning in that door or the way his arms had automatically gathered Sam close to him.
Needing five minutes to recharge her emotional walls, she was wishing he'd go check on Sam or go change instead of sitting down on her bed with a frown at the way it shifted. She had no intention of telling him that since they'd arrived over a week and a half ago, she'd spent most of her nights in the chair in his room.
"She's the housekeeper and she carries a bloody mean wooden spoon so avoid mouthing off," she finally replied from the tiny bathroom, knowing she'd hear if he moved off the bed. "If you don't remember what happened, all the better for you, we're in the Nevada mountains above Taho. Your…Father is…off with Bobby Singer and a bald young guy with an attitude almost as bad as yours…or so Jim said and…it's not important," she finished, hoping that would satisfy him since she didn't want him asking anything that would upset Sam again.
Stepping from the bathroom, Morgan couldn't help the tiny squeak of surprise when she ran right into Dean who had taken up position outside the door. The arm that he could move without too much pain slipping around her waist to ease her closer but not liking the way his friend tensed or the brief look of worry in blue eyes that, now that he was closer, he could see were red rimmed and had deep shadows underneath.
"I remember everything up to passing out at Pastor Jim's place, smart aleck," he began, determined that the pain he still felt was not putting him back in bed until he got answers. "Dad would never agree to let us leave Pastor Jim's house…unless Bobby was aiming a shotgun at his head or something," Dean knew this to be a fact, especially with how furious his Father had been with him and that made him wonder something else. "How much have you taken?"
Knowing what he meant, Morgan had no intention of answering that question, so she went back to a slightly safer one. "You can call Jim and asked him what happened," she shrugged, refusing to show the mild wince that wanted to come. "He and your Dad…agreed that it would be better for you and Sam to stay out for the summer. You're supposed to go to Bobby's place when you feel like it though Jim suggested maybe not until it's closer to time to start school again but it's up to you."
Keeping his arm around Morgan, Dean thought he felt her jerk when his palm brushed over her side but before he could comment on that something else nagged at him. "Dad agreed that we could stay away all summer?" he could read the lie in that and wondered what Jim or Bobby had to say or threaten to get John to agree to that plan. "How'd you get mixed up in this?" he asked, deciding to change directions even as he could heard his little brother laughing.
"Just…dropped by Jim's on a whim," she hedged, feeling him shift so that he had her backed against the wall next to the bathroom door and knowing he wasn't buying it. "Dean…you need to be resting. You're still…"
With a low snort, Dean decided to see how far you could push them both. "You do know that I can tell when you're lying to me, right, Angel?" he asked quietly. "You get real evasive and won't look at me," he waited a second for her to make herself meet his gaze before smirking. "Also, you remember that little scratch you healed on Sam's birthday, did you know that by using those powers that I'd be able to feel you more?"
Gritting her teeth, Morgan wanted to bang her head in because she hadn't counted on the link being two-ways. "No, I didn't," she admitted tightly, moving to shove against his chest lightly to avoid hurting him. "You wanna back off, Winchester?"
"No, but you could make me," Dean invited, knowing she wouldn't when they both, as if on instinct, turned to see Sam coming in the door munching on what appeared to be a candied apple. "Hey, that your dinner?" he asked but still didn't move.
"No," Sam grinned around the fruit as he took in his brother and friend curiously for a moment before nodding back to the main part of the cabin. "Molly says to get you for dinner before it gets cold and we get double chocolate cake for dessert if Dean keeps his dinner down she says," he enthused.
That alone made Dean move so Morgan could get free to snag his little brother by the back of the dark blue heavy hoodie he now was wearing. "Whoa, you aren't having chocolate this close to bedtime, Sammy," she replied, seeing the lower lip jut out a second before he slipped on the full puppy dog innocent look. "Uh-huh, you got your little hands on that candied apple when you shouldn't have so it's dinner, bath, and bed."
"Deeaaannn," the whine only came when he wanted to play on his brother's sympathy but one look at the knowing smirk Dean had told the younger Winchester that his normal battle plan wasn't going to work this time. "One tiny slice?"
Rolling her eyes about the stubbornness of Winchesters, Morgan was about to reply when she felt a gentle pressure lightly touching her back to realize what Dean was doing as he stepped up behind her to eye his wide eyed innocent looking little brother while he moved his fingers against her back.
"Sammy, I might still have a concussion or something but do I look brain damaged to you?" he scoffed, jerking his chin out of the room. "Scoot and we'll be there in a sec."
Hazel eyes seemed to go back and forth between them for a second before he grinned but took off running with more energy than he should have had for being outside all day.
"He's going to be fun to get down tonight," Morgan groaned, seeing this wasn't going to be an easy night on top of everything else. "Thanks for not letting him have the cake though," she glanced over her shoulder to catch his smile.
"Babe, I've grown up with that kid so I know what he's like hyped on sugar," Dean laughed, feeling at ease for the first time since his brother had given him the slip…he still wasn't sure how long ago that was but not feeling like bringing it up again. He'd wait until Sam was out for the night. "C'mon, let's go see what's for supper."
Morgan worried that with just waking up her friend wouldn't have much appetite and while she did notice a slight decrease in the way Dean ate she was pleased to see that he handled the light dinner of homemade vegetable soup with hot roast beef sandwiches, several different types of roasted vegetables and a salad without too much difficulty.
Clearly still in pain and sore as he shifted restlessly in the high back dining room chair, Dean had to admit that he was impressed with what he ate but then since he couldn't recall the last time he'd had solid food he shrugged that off to pay more attention to his brother.
Sam wouldn't meet his eyes fully all the time and when the conversation lagged, so did Sam's fork as if when he wasn't concentrating on something else his thoughts went back to his brother's injuries and their cause.
Dean had watched all during the meal that Morgan, who had managed to get Sam to sit between them, was making sure the boy ate more greens and vegetables, which he knew he should saint her for since his brother hated to eat green stuff on a normal basis.
Once the meal was over and the overly chatty housekeeper was about to serve dessert, Morgan decided to was time for Sam to have a bath and get ready for bed which incited a tiny revolt.
"Dean's going to get dessert, isn't he?" Sam pouted, not yet willing to try his luck at a full fledged protest because he still knew the trouble they were in. "That's so not fair, Morgan."
Grinning at him while seeing Dean's eyes going between his brother and the cake as if trying to choose, she nudged Sam toward the master bathroom. "Dean's hurt so that means he gets coddled and can have the stuff we can't," she replied easily before throwing in her last jab. "Besides, after he eats that cake, Molly'll be making him go to bed while you get to stay up for another chapter of your book."
As Sam laughed and ran ahead of her, Morgan heard Dean nearly choke on the cake before he swallowed. "Hey!" he called after her once Molly was done making certain he wasn't choking for real. "Does that mean you'll coddle me after Sammy goes to sleep?" he asked with his best smile, lifting a suggestive eyebrow that usually made his friend laugh. Now he noticed that her smile tightened slightly before relaxing.
"Sure, when you can stay awake longer," she responded before going to check on Sam and leaving the older boy to wander just what she was keeping from him that made her so distant.
Dean, after eating two pieces of cake, had gone back to the room he'd woken up in to call Pastor Jim who had sounded relieved to hear from him but had avoided any discussion of his Father except to say that John was hunting with Caleb for awhile and not to call him. That told Dean right off that his father hadn't agreed too readily to this summer vacation plan. While normally, he would've called John to see what was happening or to check to see if he even gave a damn that he was still breathing, he remembered his brother's smile and how easily Sam laughed. Those two things made him choose not to and just wait and see how things went.
Stretched out on the bed, Dean had laid still to take stock of his injuries. He knew every damn bruise, welt, punch and kick he'd received that day and after a good look at a calendar in the cabin's kitchen he figured out how long it had been since he'd been hurt. Considering things, he figured most of his injuries should have still been massively swollen, black, blue, and purple with healing ribs and a back that he knew he didn't want to imagine what it had been like.
A long shower before stretching out had allowed him to see for himself that most of them had vanished completely and others, which he knew had been the worst, had been reduced to only mildly painful now. Dean knew he didn't heal that quickly so that left only one other way that he'd healed and since he knew she wouldn't have casted a circle and a healing spell that left only one other way for his injuries to have been reduced and it also explained why Morgan was so wary about letting him close.
"He finally asleep?" he asked after hearing her close the door to Sam's room which, after a quick look in on them, had told Dean that she had given them the better rooms.
A quick silence made him smile because he knew Morgan was debating on answering before he caught sight of her silhouette in his door and he waited.
"Two stories and a before bed apple before he went out," she replied, the British accent sounding far more strained than he liked as she finally stepped into this room. "Why're you still awake?"
"Waiting to see if you were planning on tucking me in like you did for Sam or are we playing favorites, Morg?" Dean teased, not covering his painful curse when he pushed up on an elbow but kept his mouth shut since it did get the girl to come closer to him.
Even as sixteen, with raging hormones for any other female he'd ever met, Dean knew that Morgan was different since he was more careful in the way he flirted and teased her. Sure, one reason was the two year age difference but there was something else that he couldn't place yet that made him want to be more careful.
"You've gotten plenty of attention from me, slick," she retorted, absently checking for a fever before he caught her hand and began to let his fingers move up her wrist. "Dean…"
"Why're you…" he began to ask when a step made him look over and frown. "Sammy."
As Morgan turned to look, Sam yawned but stuck his head into the room. "I thought I heard…something," he hedged, voice just a little too shaky for either teenager to be at ease. "Morgan usually…"
"I'll check, Sam," Morgan quickly moved towards the door while shooing Sam out. "You stay put and I'll be back to check that wound on your back," she called back.
Tucking the younger boy back in, Morgan flipped the lowest switch on a light in the corner as she had been doing when Sam would stay in this room and she started to wonder if that's what the problem tonight was. "What'd ya hear, luv?"
"Dad," Sam whispered, restlessly twisting his new green blanket around his hand as his eyes roamed the room uneasily. "I heard Dad yelling at Dean and…at you."
Sighing, Morgan smoothed a hand through his hair in an effort to calm him down. "Sam, your Dad isn't here and won't be here," she assured him, hoping that was true since Jim had clearly said how furious the senior Winchester had been. "By the time we get to Bobby's place, John will have forgotten all about what happened. Now go to sleep and maybe tomorrow if Dean feels like it we can build that snowman you've been wanting to."
Waiting until she was sure the boy had drifted off again to go back to check on his brother, Morgan was slightly surprised to find that Dean was not only still awake but sitting up fully. "He's fine. He still…he blames himself for you being hurt and he's afraid John will come."
"It's not his fault what happened between me and Dad since this ain't the first time I've taken a punch to keep Sam…" Dean stopped the second he noticed the way her blue eyes sharpened. "You want to come clean with me about what happened after I went out?" he asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Dad would not have agreed to let me and Sam stay away all summer, even if Bobby and Pastor Jim were threatening him, and he was too damn mad to just forget this soon, so what happened, Morgan?"
"Isn't it more important that your brother is safe and isn't afraid for the time being, Dean?" she countered, too tired and on edge now to keep the tone level. "I made the choice to get you and Sam out of Jim's place because I didn't want to see Sam cry over you anymore."
Not having a valid counterargument to that one, Dean was about to throw something else out when his eyes went to the door and he felt like groaning but not from pain. "Sammy, if you don't go to sleep I swear tomorrow I'm finding the biggest pile of snow and dumping you in it," he threatened, not believing this was happening when he felt a not so subtle smack to the back of his head even though his friend wasn't even close to the bed and he sighed. "What's up, Sammy?" he asked. "Morgan's put you in bed at least three times now, so why the Sam-in-the-box routine?"
Biting his lower lip, Sam took a hesitant step into his brother's room to look between them while bringing the blanket that he was carrying up a little higher without being aware of it. "Can I sleep in here?" he asked quietly, eyes dropping to the floor to avoid his brother's. "Just one more night?"
As Dean was about to speak, he again felt the smack to his head and let out a low growl, but Morgan was already helping Sam up on the queen size bed and he noticed his brother seemed to automatically curl up close to him but without actually touching him.
"Sure, Sammy, you can sleep in here to make sure Dean's not alone," she soothed the boy quietly while giving Dean a look that he knew meant 'keep your mouth shut for once' and arranging the blanket Sam had brought with him over him. "I need to go call Pastor Jim to tell him that Dean woke up anyway so you stay here with Dean."
Sam gave a tired nod before closing his eyes and for once Dean stayed silent as he watched what he soon realized had become a ritual between his friend and his brother. Morgan waited until Sam was more settled to card a hand through his hair and brushed a kiss over his forehead and then she met his gaze briefly before leaving the room, shutting the door without a sound.
Waiting a couple seconds to settle his thoughts and suspicions, Dean eased back on the bed and as he had when Sam had been a toddler running from nightmares, he scooted him in close to his side and was surprised when he felt Sam's arms wrap around him. That told Dean that his brother was still bothered by something.
"What's up with this, Sammy?" he asked finally, letting his voice remain normal despite the lump that was forming for no reason while his fingers seem to begin to card through Sam's slightly too long hair as he normally did when soothing his little brother. "Been awhile since you've wanted to share a bed."
Sam yawned again, beginning to rub at his eyes in a familiar manner. "When we got here, you were so sick and hot that Morgan was with you at night all the time so she'd let me sleep on the other side of the bed once you'd stopped thrashing," he explained sleepily, not seeing his brother's eyes shoot toward the door then back. "I'm…I'm sorry Dad hurt you cause of me, De'n."
"Sam, sure running away from me was stupid and dangerous," Dean began, going on quickly when he felt the boy tense but brought him in tighter against him as he began to rub the same soothing patterns down his brother's back and arm and felt him start to relax again. "What happened between me and Dad though wasn't your fault. Dad was angry and looking for an excuse to lash out. It would've happened when he came home anyway. If not over something you did then at something I did so stop making yourself sick over me being hurt," he told him, knowing it would take longer to convince his brother of that. "Sammy, how long has Morgan been letting you sleep in here and…does she sleep?" he asked casually, knowing his brother was loyal but also half-asleep.
Snuggling closer as he began to finally fall asleep fully, Sam fingers wrapped around Dean's hand on instinct. "We've been here almost two weeks so nearly all of it," he admitted, biting his lip again as he opened tired eyes to look at Dean fully. "She…don' sleep much and when she does since she stays in here with you, she sleeps in the chair over there except for the night she pulled it close to the bed cause she said she needed to keep holding your hand that night. Dean?"
"Yeah, little brother?" Dean suspected he knew why that had been but was too fixated on the small and uncomfortable looking chair that was sitting close to the bed. "Go on to sleep, Sammy."
"Uh-huh," Sam mumbled, letting his eyes drift close. "Morgan glitters sometimes when she thinks I'm asleep," he told his brother quietly but didn't sound disturbed by it. "When we first got here and you were really out of it she'd touch you and her hand would shimmer like. It was pretty but…"
Lightly shoving Sam's face into the pillow in a teasing gesture, Dean forced a smile. "Morg's pretty, little brother and off limits so go to sleep before you get that dragon called a housekeeper jumping down my throat," he warned, more at ease when he finally heard a small giggle as Sam settled down for the night.
"You've got a crush on her," Sam sang softly, knowing it was coming so he didn't react when he felt his brother's hand run down over his face with a muttered 'Shut up, Sam.' "It's okay though, cause she has a huge one on you or so those guys who pop in like to say."
"Really?" that made one eyebrow quirk up as he laid there until he felt Sam relax and he knew that his brother had finally fallen to sleep and would stay that way for a little bit then Dean slowly eased away from the bed but made sure to place several pillows where he'd been in case Sam moved too much. A long ago made habit from when his brother had been a baby and would roll like crazy in his sleep. "Be right back, Sammy," he whispered, searching in his duffel for a second before going out of his room and not having to search far for his friend.
He had known that excuse to call Jim Murphy had just been a way to make it easier for Sam to stay with him but he was surprised when he found Morgan in the Great Room, standing by one of the long windows as if she were watching the still falling snow. He knew the second she became aware of him even before he stepped up to lay a hand on her shoulder.
"You shouldn't have left Sam," she murmured, leaning her forehead against the glass but didn't resist when Dean eased her against him so that she could lay it against his chest. "If he wakes up…"
"He's out for the night," Dean replied, confident of that just as he was confident that Morgan was exhausted. "I thought you'd have gone to bed."
Making a sound that he took for something between a snort and a laugh, Dean had his answer on how long it had been since she'd probably slept and knowing her well enough by now to know he'd never get her to do anything easily he decided to just wait it out but he wasn't expecting what happened next. "So, exactly what have you and my little brother been up to while I've been out cold?" he asked lightly, letting his fingers sift through her hair as he added jokingly. "Not missing me clearly but…hey!"
After nearly two weeks of watching him fight through infection, fevers, wounds that wouldn't heal and a little brother who cried nearly every night while not letting Sam see how worried she was for Dean, those simple joking words set something off in the fourteen-year-old British girl that she couldn't explain. She felt the walls she'd built around all the fear, the worry, and the exhaustion crack in two.
"Let go, Dean," Morgan struggled to keep her voice low so they didn't wake Sam up but as she shoved his arm away and his hand instinctively grabbed her wrist, her own reaction was laced with weeks worth of pent up emotion and she shoved him back two steps. "How the bloody hell can you say that he didn't care about you?" she demanded angrily, still hearing Sam the first night in the cabin when she'd found him curled in the closet in his room sobbing for his brother. "You didn't see him! You didn't the damn marks on his arms from that bastard of a Father you have! You haven't seen him cry himself to sleep next to you for two bloody weeks while I told him it would be fine! Don't you ever say that Sam didn't care…"
Realizing that Dean hadn't moved except to catch her hands before they could shove him again and then he was only holding them loosely, Morgan breath caught and the panic set in as she felt the tears that she'd been hiding begin to burn and she knew she needed to get away from him. "I…I have to…" trying to pull back, she was surprised at the sudden strength in his hands yet even as he continued to hold onto to her hands, he didn't use enough strength to hurt her. "Let go. I have to go…do…check…damn it, Dean…"
As soon as her words began to run together and he heard her voice break, Dean merely gave a slight tug to pull her into his arms. "C'mere, Angel," he murmured, not surprised to feel her shaking but he was surprised to feel her so cold as he moved toward the long wrap around sofa to sit down while making sure to keep Morgan in his arms even as she struggled to move away. "Sshhh, stop it, calm down and tell me what the hell I said to cause this to…" the teenager stopped when the weakly struggling young girl in his arms finally crashed and the link they shared showed him what she wouldn't.
"Damn, Morgan," he whispered, glad his brother wasn't around to see him about to throw the no-chick-flick moment rule out the window as he quickly brought his now crying friend fully into his arms to hold her while gently letting his fingers move in slow patterns over her back and against he face while beginning to rock slowly. "You and Sam were here for a week before the caretakers arrived to help you," he swallowed the curses he could have thrown as he realized what that meant. "For a week, you took care of me at my worst, took care of Sammy all the time and still sat up all night with me. You took the damn wounds because you couldn't heal them all and still have the strength to care for Sam. You'll still feeling the effects of those yet you made certain to play with Sam to distract him from my injuries…have you slept at all?" he finally asked, feeling her turn into him to bury her face against his neck.
It took several moments of near silence before he finally heard a soft 'Some,' as his answer and once again he wanted to swear but this time at Pastor Jim for allowing her to take on the responsibility of caring for both him and his brother. Dean knew however that Sam would never have left him and that more than likely Morgan had reacted in a way to protect them and wasn't thinking of the outcome if she would have cared anyway.
"Okay," he slowly settled down, figuring that now that he knew what was going on and now that he was mostly conscious that he could take some of the pressure off his friend but first he needed to calm her down again so she could sleep. "Hey, I have something for you," he began with a sigh, knowing this wasn't how he pictured doing this but figuring it might help her focus on him and not the thoughts flashing through her head right then. "You are not letting me down. Morg, you've focused on Sam and me for two weeks with barely any sleep. You're crashing and burning, babe."
"Am not," came a tired retort that made him grin while he reached into a pocket for a small box he'd had in his duffel since his dad had given it to him.
"Yeah, you so are," he came back while placing the box in the hand closest to him. "I had that with me the last time you dropped by but Dad was there that time so I…well, it's not anything really but I…" Dean swore at himself for sounding like a stuttering fool over something so simple. "It's just that I…damn it, here," he muttered darkly then waited as she stared at the box with glassy blue eyes before blinking them clear to open the box and he heard a soft gasp. "It was my Mom's," he explained hurriedly then guessed that might make this worse. "Dad had taken it to have it engraved for Christmas before the fire he said and he hadn't given it back to her when…well, you know, so he gave it to me when I turned sixteen for, and I quote, find that special someone to…" stopping when he realized how that sounded, the elder Winchester suddenly wished he could just vanish.
Staring at the pretty silver chain with a entwined heart on it, Morgan traced it with a fingertip before lifting tired eyes to see that Dean was watching her while chewing on his lip. "It was your Mom's," she murmured, understanding the significance of that even if he didn't right then and also understanding how his Father would feel if her found out. "Dean, your Dad…he won't…"
"He gave it to me," Dean cut her off, suddenly positive this is what he wanted to do and also that his Mom would so approve of this spunky little girl…though he'd be dead if she ever heard him refer to her as spunky. "I…I want you to have it so…y'know, can I help you put it on?"
Hesitating a second and feeling every unsteady beat of his heart under her hand, Morgan slowly nodded. Beginning to ease back only to feel his hand immediately stop her, Dean was careful as he slipped the necklace on and had to blink several times to find the clasp but once he felt it hook he let his finger trace the chain where it fell. Finding himself meeting her eyes to read the emotions in them and through a link that he'd make damn sure no one ever learned about, Dean was shocked to find his hands shaking now when they hadn't before.
"Thanks, Dean," Morgan had glanced down at the necklace before quickly brushing a shy kiss against his lips, then felt his fingers shaking as they cupped the back her neck. "Dean?"
"Sammy says you have a crush on me," he murmured, wondering why this was so hard when he'd done a hell of a lot more with other girls but needing to give her a chance at stopping what he only intended to be a simple kiss.
Reaching up to wipe her eyes free of tears, Morgan felt his nerves as she felt his fingers shift to stroke. "Sammy has a big mouth for such a small boy," she returned sourly, considering. "Are you going to kiss me, Dean?"
"Planning on it if you don't say anything different," Dean admitted, not showing any surprise at her question even though he'd never been asked that before…of course he normally didn't give a girl a chance to see his move coming so when he finally realized she was just watching him, he coughed awkwardly. "You have an objection if I wanted to kiss you, Morg?" he asked quietly, silently hoping she didn't.
"No, not really," though he could see a slight hesitance in her eyes that he quickly as understood when she went on more quietly. "Sammy said that you're pretty popular in the schools you go to, with the girls I mean, and…Dean, I've never kissed a boy before and…" her rush of words cut off when Dean leaned down to lay a gentle kiss over her mouth,
Holding the kiss for a lot less than he normally would, Dean eased back just enough to kiss her cheek while offering his own opinion of his little brother's helpful stories. "Sam is going to get tossed in a snow pile as soon as I get him outside," and he heard a small giggle escape his friend which made him smile, slowly moving closer to try for another kiss when…
"Dean?"
Fighting off the groan that nearly escaped him, Dean's arms tightened to hold Morgan in his arms even as he was looking over toward the hall. "Have I ever mentioned that you have got to have the worst timing, little brother?" he inquired with that he figured was honest restraint even as he was noticing the way Sam seemed to be shaking and he sighed. "C'mere, Sam," he motioned his brother over to the couch.
Sam took a step when he frowned a little before turning to run back down the hall and Dean sighed, wondering if he should have talked to Sam since he had assumed his brother knew what was happening between him and Morgan. He heard a rustling as his brother emerged again carrying both his blanket and the large hunter green comforter that was on Dean's bed and the older boy understand what his brother was doing.
Nodding to Sam, Dean moved on the sofa until he was back in the corner back where he could stretch his one leg out that was now starting to pinch but he could still shift Morgan against him so that she was laying with her head against his chest. He started to use his other foot to pull the large oversized footstool close only to have Sam push it against the sofa. "Come up here, Sammy," he told his brother who was watching them with wide puppy dog eyes that never failed to reach into Dean's soul.
"Morgan sleeping?" Sam asked softly, easing onto the footstool before his brother nodded to his other side but Sam had other ideas as he laid his pillow down against his brother's thigh and laid down so that Dean had plenty of room to move the leg he had stretched out.
On instinct, Morgan had reached to keep the smaller boy from falling backwards so Dean merely shrugged, letting his hand run over his friend's hair and allowed his fingers to move in a pattern he knew she'd know. "Duh," she murmured sleepily while tucking Sam safely into her arms while Dean spread the large comforter out over them before settling back to watch as his little brother and their friend slept against him.
"It's all gonna be good," he spoke softly, knowing he was the only one still awake and didn't mind that for some reason since it seems natural for him to watch over the two people he quickly realized were what made his life good. Now he just needed to find a way to keep it that way and not let his Dad ruin it.
Present Day: Singer Salvage:
Letting his eyes remain closed, Dean allowed the silver chain he'd found in Morgan's jacket pocket to run through his fingers as he remembered the day he'd first given it to her. Opening his eyes to see that Sam had flopped back to his side facing the other bed, but he noticed that Sam still appeared to be calm so he was about to push to his feet when he felt the soft brush of fingers against the back of his and immediately some of his anxiety went away.
"Facing Lucifer, brilliant strategy there," he complained, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was while reaching back to grasp the still cold hold but smiled with relief when he felt her fingers grasp his. "We really need to discuss your plans, babe."
Shifting so he could glance over his shoulder, Dean's gaze immediately went to the still tired blue eyes that he figured had been watching him for the past several minutes. "You worry me sometimes, Morgan," he told her, finally pulling himself back up so he could sit on the bedside to hold a plastic bottle of water to her lips.
Wincing as the cold water touched her dry and split lips, Morgan could've snorted at that statement but decided to wait until she felt a little better but couldn't quite let him off the hook. "You…you want me to name the times you've worried me, slick?"
"Not unless you really feel up to talking to me about all those times you've been watching out for me and Sam," Dean returned, seeing her eyes roll in a way that meant he was about to be insulted.
"Sam, not so much," she murmured, reaching for the bottle of water herself only to have Dean keep a grasp on it while helping he sit against the headboard. "You, on the other hand, every time I turned around some spirit, witch, or other creature with sharp teeth were trying to take a chunk outta you," she blinked a couple times before he finally came into focus. "That doesn't include all the close encounters with cops, Feds, and other agencies that could've nailed your cocky ass over the years…and you do not want to know the names I called that FBI bloke who locked you and Sammy up and…" she made a swipe to slap at him but missed by a good foot which told Dean that her vision was still off. "What the bloody hell were you doing getting yourselves locked up in a State Pen? If that top guard hadn't gotten you two out I would've had to have pulled some bloody huge favors in to get you out of that one and…what?"
Tongue stuck in his cheek to try to keep a straight face, Dean finally had to chuckle. "You know I know that Sam picked up bad habits from you?" he asked, seeing her eyes narrow dangerously. "When's he's sick or hurt real bad, he's all clingy and emotional. You? You just babble on and on about anything that comes to mind and usually that's me…which I should take advantage of since I normally can't find you this chatty."
"I don't babble and you were a huge pain in the ass to watch over, Dean," Morgan tossed back, refusing to sulk as she shifted a look to check on Sam and by the small frown that formed Dean guessed she wasn't any happier that his brother was still sleeping than he was. "He's dreaming but I can't tell of what yet…"
Using both hands to cup her face in order to guide her eyes back to his, Dean's expression was serious. "Don't try to read him while you're this weak," he warned, shutting her up with a look he knew only worked a few times. "I can't handle you both sick like this, Morg," he told her, moving his hands from her face in order to slip the necklace back around her neck. "God, I still don't know how you managed to take care of both me and Sam back then. I've got Bobby and Cas to help and I still feel like it's all going wrong."
"I just had to worry about you getting better and keeping Sam distracted. You have a few other problems to handle," she replied with a yawn then frowned. "Bobby? You brought us to Bobby's?"
"Yeah, and I…owe you an apology for a few things," Dean muttered, not happy about that but also willing to admit when he was wrong. "You still wrote to us even though you never got a reply, why?"
Blinking at the question, it took Morgan a couple minutes to understand what he was saying and then she noticed the letters he'd scattered on the floor, drawing in a slow breath. "It got to be a habit and I figured that one day he might give 'em to one of you," she shrugged, not seeing the way his brow furrowed. "I stopped writing to you after your deal came due because it hurt too bad to think that even then…even with only a bleedin' year to live before going to Hell you couldn't at least call me to say 'hey, I was too stubborn to call when some jerk killed Sam. So I made a deal with a Crossroads demon and only have a year to live so could you watch out for Sam?' That hurt so much, Dean so I kept writing to Sammy even though I knew he was so far down a path neither of us wanted and I did what I could to keep him alive but…"
"I know," Dean murmured, looking down at their fingers before tightening them. "You knew Bobby had the letters?"
"After you…after your deal…" Morgan but off, refusing to say that he died. "I came by to tell him that he had to latch onto Sam before he went off the edge but Bobby wasn't any better," she sighed, recalling that day. "I found the letters while clearing away empty bottles and once he sobered up real fast well…he kept them for a good reason, I guess."
"Care to tell me what that might be?" Dean demanded, anger still evident. "All the hate, the pain and hurt could've been prevented if he'd given me one single letter over the past fifteen years, Morgan. There's no reason or excuse good enough to keep that from me or from Sam."
Closing her eyes briefly, Morgan sighed. "You loved your Dad, Dean. Any one of those letter from e to you, which I see you haven't opened yet, would have either destroyed what relationship you had with John or made it worse between us. Because I can promise you would've come looking for me and if you'd showed up in a rage, I would've sent you to hell a lot sooner than you went, mate," she replied simply, starting to move her hand just as he grasped her wrist. "Dean…"
"I loved you," he stressed those words without even realizing he had said them until he saw the way her eyes widened. "Fine, I said it but I did and I had a right to know why you left. I still have that right."
"Fine, but not while Sam's like this," Morgan argued, knowing that Dean was torn already. "He's locked in his mind centered on that time. He can't recall that last day, Dean. He's scared now just by recalling your injuries so we need to get him back without him remembering that last bloody night."
Shaking his head, Dean shrugged but glanced at his brother. "Sammy said he sat at the top of the stairs and heard you and Dad fight. Dad threatened to separate us if I didn't leave you and that you left to protect us so I don't see why he…" by the way she looked away though told Dean that something else was wrong but before he could ask, Sam's body suddenly spasmed on his bed just before the light in the ceiling began blinking.
"What the hell?" he was starting to go toward his brother when Sam's eyes suddenly snapped open with no recognition, only terror and Dean found himself slammed out into the hall with his head banging off the wall. "Sam!" he shouted, shoving to his feet just as the bedroom door was slammed shut and refused to budge. "Sam! Damn it. Morgan, what's happening?" he demanded, not liking the sudden brief burst of understanding then fear he felt over their link before it went dim. "Morgan!" he pounded on the door even as he could hear Bobby shouting from the bottom of the steps.
"What the hell are you idjits doing to my house?" he demanded loudly, slapping Castiel on the arm. "Zap me up there, ya featherbrain!"
Dean heard something crash in the bedroom, swearing when he couldn't even kick in the damn door. "Sam! Sammy, wake up and listen to Morgan or I swear when I get in there I am so kicking your ass!"
"Dean, that isn't your brother," Castiel's grim voice registered and as soon as it had the Angel found himself up against the wall.
"What. The. Hell. Is. Happening?" Dean gritted, seeing that Jack MacShayne was standing behind Bobby and not looking happy. "I can't get Morgan to answer me. I saw Sam's eyes when they opened and…they weren't my brother's. Now what the hell's going on. She stopped Lucifer from claiming him."
Jack scowled while figuring a way through the damn wards on this house to cast a spell. "It's not Lucifer, Dean!" he snapped, glaring at Castiel. "With all that was going on, all the power influences of Lucifer, Zachariah and such I couldn't get a good reading on Sam back in West Virginia," he tried to explain as Dean whirled back as a scream was heard and he recognized it easily. "That witches' house was tainted with so much evil energy that it was actually like a doorway and it…allowed something to come through that I wasn't expecting."
Hearing Morgan cry out in pain and shock like that sent Dean over the edge along with his worry over his brother's already fragile sanity so he reacted like normal. Grabbing Jack by the throat, he slammed the barrel of his .45 into the mystic's face. "Tell me in five words or less what the hell is in Sammy!" he gritted, green eyes glittering dangerously.
"Your Father."
TBC
A/N: First let me apologize for the delay in updating. Family issues prevented much writing this weekend which I felt horrible for since I'm normally very good at updating Sam and Dean.
Next, don't you hate my cliffhangers? I know I do. Poor Sam. His mind is actually tortured over so much not he's picked up a spirit with an axe to grind. How will Dean heal his brother or stop him before he goes to far? Can Dean handle the spirit of a Father he still has so much unresolved issues with? Also, what did happen between Bobby and John fifteen years ago after they returned to Pastor Jim? Will Lucifer stop his claim on Sammy as it his or will be return? Come back for CH 9 to see.