Chapter 16
It was a Saturday morning, five days after Sam had killed the demon, and Bobby and Dean were sitting at the dinette table, finishing up bacon and eggs and drinking coffee.
Sam was awake. Bobby had gotten a hollow, "I'm fine, Bobby," when he'd checked on him earlier, but Sam hadn't come out to get coffee or breakfast, and it was unlikely that he would. He'd barely been out of his room since the day he'd killed Azazel and TJ had left.
Dean was unusually quiet, and Bobby knew that he was worried about his brother. Sam seemed to be falling back into the moroseness and depression that he'd been in after his injury. He was doing the basics to keep himself alive, but, on the brief forays he made out of his room to get food, it was obvious that he hadn't shaved, his hair looked unkempt, and there was a deep emptiness and darkness in his eyes that was painful to see. Sam hadn't even been that bad after he'd hurt his shoulder.
"You tried havin' a talk with your brother?" asked Bobby.
Dean snorted. "As much as I could talking to a door. You know how he is. I get an 'I'm fine,' and that's the end of it."
Bobby sighed. "We gotta get him to snap out of it. He was better, seemed to be coming to terms with things, despite the crap that was going on with the demon. Now, it's like it was just yesterday that he got hurt. He's starting all over again."
"He thought the demon was his ticket out of the wheelchair, Bobby. I think he's given up, now, thinks there's no hope."
"Well, there ain't much, I'll give him that."
"We can't stop looking, Bobby."
"Did I say I was gonna stop? I'll look for a cure 'til I'm dead, but, in the meantime, I don't wanna see him stop living. He's too young to be holed up in his room, lettin' life pass him by."
Dean's jaw hardened. "Did TJ say anything to you when you took her home the other day?"
"Not a word."
"Well, obviously, something's not right. She hasn't been over since Sam ganked Yellow Eyes, and I'll bet you that Sam hasn't talked to her on the phone, either. You think it's because she's too freaked out?"
"Who could blame her if she was?"
"I can. Sam needs her, and I thought she was tougher than that. How could she just abandon him like she has? Surely he explained everything to her. Surely she knows how hard this is for him, what he gave up."
Bobby felt the need to defend TJ. "We don't know that she's abandoned him, Dean. We don't know what went on between them, and she looked just as upset as Sam did that day I took her home. For all we know, Sam could have pushed her away the same way he's pushing us away."
Dean took a sip of his coffee and was quiet for a moment. "I've tried to call her twice, Bobby, and she didn't call me back, just sent me a text saying she needed some time. What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, but I do know that the kid's in love with Sam, so I don't think she'd stay away from him unless she had a reason."
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "God, Bobby. He's gotta be hurtin' bad right now. I know how much he had riding on tricking the demon into curing him, how much he wanted it. To top it all off, he had that time where he was up walking around, had a taste of what he'd been missing. That's gotta make going back a thousand times harder, you know?"
Bobby felt his gut clench, felt a stab of hatred for what the demon had put Sam through.
"I think, like you said," Dean went on, "he was accepting things, but the whole friggin' demon deal screwed it all up. I know one thing. I'm not gonna let him give up, and I'm not gonna let him turn into the bitter, pissed-off jerk he was right after his SCI. If he doesn't come out of that room, soon..." Dean trailed off, and his eyes widened.
Bobby glanced in the direction Dean was looking and was surprised to see Sam wheeling into the living room. His expression was devoid of emotion, but he was fully dressed in jeans and a shirt, and he had shaved and combed his hair.
He rolled up near the table and eyed Dean's coffee mug. "Any left?"
Dean had recovered from his surprise and nodded. "I'll get you a cup."
"I got it," Sam said, and pushed himself into the kitchen.
Dean arched a brow at Bobby but didn't say anything.
Bobby gave him a half-shrug in return and then called to Sam, "You want some bacon and eggs, kid?"
"No, thanks, Bobby."
"You sure? It won't take but a sec to make you some."
Sam came out of the kitchen with a coffee mug sitting on a wooden tray in his lap while he used his hands to push his wheels. TJ had gotten the tray for him so that cooking would be easier, since Sam had helped her make a lot of her meals after she'd gotten out of the hospital. He could stir things, even hot things, without having to reach up to the counter, and the tray protected his lap from hot liquids and food that might spill or slosh out. "I'll make some toast, later, if I get hungry," he said, pulling up to his spot at the table.
Bobby nodded and let it go, knowing Sam wouldn't want to be mothered, although he wished Sam would eat something more substantial.
Sam put his coffee mug on the table and set the tray in the empty spot, out of the way.
Dean didn't say anything, and neither did Bobby. Bobby was afraid to, didn't want to make a big deal of the fact that Sam had decided to join them, afraid it might somehow scare him off, and he wondered how much of their conversation Sam had heard. After a couple of minutes, though, the silence was starting to draw out too long and feel uncomfortable.
Sam was staring at his mug and seemed absorbed in thought.
Bobby looked at Dean, who quirked his mouth as if to say, Awkward.
Finally, Dean cleared his throat and looked as if he was about to speak.
Sam beat him to it. He looked at Bobby and said, "So, uh, I think it's time you got back to your own life, Bobby."
Bobby didn't react. He'd been thinking the same thing, lately, but given Sam's relapse into depression, he'd been hesitant to leave.
Sam's brow wrinkled, his expression sincere. "I mean, I really appreciate everything you've done. You've gone way beyond what we ever asked of you, but I can do everything on my own again. I don't see a reason for you to hang around if you need to go."
Bobby knew Sam had been doing his transfers without help using the board, but he still worried that Sam might take on too much before his shoulder was fully healed. "You gonna keep up with your therapy and not overdo it?"
Sam gave him the ghost of a smile. "Yeah. I can do the home exercises on my own, now, and I can take the bus for my sessions with Karen."
Dean quirked a brow at the mention of Sam riding the bus.
Sam saw Dean's reaction and went on in an impassive tone. "I've gotta get used to it, and riding the bus is good for the environment, right?
Dean rolled his eyes.
"Maybe I'll eventually save enough money to buy a car of my own, or maybe not. Maybe I'll get to where I don't mind the bus."
Bobby scratched his head. Sam was saying all the right things, but something didn't seem quite right. It was almost like he was reciting a passage from a book—a book on how to live with a disability. There was no enthusiasm behind this new demeanor of his, but at least it was a step in the right direction.
Dean looked a little skeptical. "Sam, we can get the Impala tricked out. You—"
"No. I don't want you to do anything to the Impala."
"It's not a big deal," Dean argued.
Sam shook his head. "No."
"And just how are you gonna save up for a car?"
Sam looked at him, jaw set with determination. "Get a job."
Dean sat back in his chair.
Sam cleared his throat. "I heard you mention to Bobby the other day that Phil and Katherine were looking for a bookkeeper, and I was wondering if that job was still open."
A flash of emotion crossed Dean's face, and he hesitated just a fraction before saying, "Yeah. It's still open. I can set up an interview for you, if you want."
"Yeah," said Sam quietly. "Thanks."
Dean nodded and took a sip of his coffee in an admirable effort to keep things casual, like the things Sam was saying weren't that big of a deal.
Sam waited for a second and then said, "Uh, it'd have to be pretty much the same hours you work—you know, in the evenings—because I'm gonna go back to school in the fall."
Dean choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken, his effort to remain cool falling by the wayside.
Bobby whacked him on the back. "You okay, son?"
Dean nodded, still sputtering.
Sam ignored Dean's reaction. "I'm gonna talk to someone in admissions at SDSU on Monday morning. I'm hoping a lot of my credits will transfer from Stanford. I think I can get student loans and maybe a grant, since, you know," his jaw tensed, "I have a permanent disability."
Dean got over his choking and stared at Sam for a moment. Finally, he said, "You wanna tell us what brought all this on, all this sudden acceptance of everything? You went from Dicky Downer to the poster child for SCI."
Bobby gave Dean a warning look, pissed that he was being critical of Sam's effort.
Dean ignored it. "What gives, Sam?"
Sam's jaw clenched tighter, and there was a flash of despair that crossed his features. Then the bland, emotionless mask dropped back into place. "I have a disability, Dean. I have to learn to live with it because it's—it's not gonna go away. I either have to deal or die, right?"
Dean's features softened. "Sammy—"
"Don't, Dean," said Sam in a deliberate, hard tone, stark desolation in his eyes. "Don't tell me not to give up hope, that you and Bobby are still looking for a cure. It doesn't help when you say that."
Bobby felt sadness wash through him, hating that Sam was still in so much emotional pain.
Dean looked as heartbroken as Bobby felt.
Sam's features were cold and stony, and he pulled away from the table and wheeled himself toward his room without saying another word.
Dean put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.
XXXXXXXX
TJ was nervous as she walked up to the main entrance of Shorty's, carrying a birthday gift in her hands. She hadn't seen Dean in over a month, since the day they had both almost died at the hands of the freaky, evil demon and she'd said good-bye to Sam.
The thought of Sam caused the usual ache and longing that she felt every time his name came up. He hadn't tried to contact her since she'd left, and she didn't know whether to be noble and tell herself it was for the best or to be really pissed off. He could've at least made some effort.
Of course, she hadn't done anything to contact him, either, but she couldn't, not after she'd made such a big deal about needing space. Her brain knew that was true, that it was the only way to get over him. She just wished her heart would get the message.
What she was doing today, dropping off his gift and inviting him to her graduation and the party afterward, didn't really count as making contact with him. She had to invite Dean and Heather—they were her good friends—and she couldn't invite them without inviting Sam. So, she might as well drop off Sam's birthday gift while she was at it, since today was actually his birthday.
No, this wasn't a pathetic attempt to have some sort of nearness to him through Dean, some sort of news about how he was doing. Not at all. Inviting Sam to her party was the polite thing to do. Plus, she knew her parents would want to see him again, since she hadn't had the heart to tell them that she and Sam didn't see each other anymore, so she was really doing this for them.
Yeah. Right.
The gift was something that she hadn't been able to resist getting him. She figured the yoga sessions didn't really count, since he hadn't wanted them—not that she was sure he'd want the gift she'd brought today, either.
She sighed. She'd already lost her heart to him; she couldn't lose her self-respect, too. Of course, throwing herself at him like a totally wanton slut hadn't exactly been the way to boost her self-esteem, especially since she'd known that it wouldn't mean the same thing to him as it did to her. She had no one to blame but herself for the disaster that had resulted.
She had to show him that she was over it, that, yeah, she'd made a fool of herself and told him how she felt and ruined their friendship, but what else was new? She could still be a classy girl and invite him to her party.
Being without Sam made her miserable, but she would show everyone how strong she was. She would pick up the pieces and move on. She didn't have a choice. It was the same story, different day—always the bridesmaid, never the bride, always everyone's best buddy—only her feelings were more intense and utterly devastating this time around. The knowledge that Sam wasn't in love with her, that she could never be with him, was so painful sometimes she felt like her insides were being squished by the demon again.
Sometimes she had moments of weakness, and she thought that maybe she should try to be friends with him after all because maybe that was better than nothing. Yeah. Maybe she should just try.
Or, it would really suck, driving herself crazy trying not to touch him in a decidedly unfriendly way and going insane with jealousy once he finally realized how awesome he was and started going out with other girls again.
So, she came back to where she always ended up when she had this conversation with herself at least ten times a day. It was over, and she wished him the best. She truly did...because she loved him and always would.
She had intentionally gone to Shorty's early on a Monday evening because she knew it wouldn't be busy and she would have a chance to talk to Dean. When she walked in, just as she'd thought, there were only a few tables occupied, and no one was sitting at the bar. It was just past five, and Dean and Heather's shifts had just started.
TJ sat at the bar on a stool and set Sam's gift on the stool next to her. Gina, another waitress that worked at Shorty's who had been filling in the void left by TJ, was across the room and gave her a smile. They didn't know each other that well, so TJ just waved politely.
Dean was out of sight, probably in the back getting something, but Heather had seen her come in, and as soon as she finished setting drinks in front of her customers, she came over and gave TJ a big hug.
"Nelly," she said, grinning, "you're looking good, girl."
"Thank you," said TJ, returning the smile, for once just accepting what Heather said without thinking Heather was either just being polite or must need glasses, as TJ used to think when anyone paid her a compliment. God, had she really been that down on herself?
Maybe all that time she'd been spending with her shrink was helping after all. Maybe this time around, she was actually getting better. The thought lightened her mood a bit.
Heather grew more serious, her light-blue eyes trained on TJ. "So, how are you doing?"
"I'm...good. I think I'm getting things under control, putting some things into perspective."
Heather looked at her pensively, giving a faint nod.
"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not like I'm cured or anything. I still struggle with," TJ cleared her throat, feeling a little embarrassed, "my disorder every day, but, um, the new counselor I've been going to is—well, she's better than others I've had."
Heather nodded again, compassion on her face.
TJ felt squirmy and fidgeted a little on her stool.
Heather seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject. "School going okay?"
"Yeah. I didn't really get that far behind. It hasn't been that hard to catch up. Of course, now finals are coming up."
Heather scrunched up her perfectly-shaped nose. "Ooh, fun," she said in a tone that indicated she thought it was anything but. College hadn't really been her thing, but she was a smart girl. She was going to school to be a paramedic, which was no walk in the park.
"So, what about you? Did you get Dean in the sack, yet?" TJ teased.
Heather blushed prettily and averted her eyes.
TJ's eyes widened. "Holy cow! You did!"
"Shh!" admonished Heather, looking around and laughing shyly.
A few of the customers had looked up at TJ's outburst but went back to their conversations.
"Start talkin'," TJ demanded with mock sternness.
Heather smiled the smile of someone who's in love.
TJ felt a twinge of jealousy.
"It actually kind of started when you were still in the hospital. He asked me to dinner—finally—and things went from there. We've gotten pretty close. He's sweet, and he's such a gentleman."
TJ raised her brows. "Are we talking about Dean Winchester, the cockiest, biggest flirt on the west coast?"
Heather smiled again. "I know it's maybe hard to believe, but that's not who he really is. Deep down, he's a good guy."
"I know," TJ said softly. She wondered if Sam had finally had a talk with Dean, and her belly clenched the way it always did whenever she thought of Sam. It was annoying, and she wondered if it would ever go away. "That's...great, Heather. I'm happy for you."
Heather looked at her a moment. "So, what happened with you and Sam?"
"Subtle, Heather. Don't beat around the bush or anything."
She shrugged. "I'm just curious. Everyone is. You guys were inseparable for a while there."
TJ hesitated. She didn't want to get into it. It was still too painful, too raw.
"Dean's worried about him. Sam won't say what happened, but I think he's been pretty bummed."
So maybe Sam cared a little after all? Of course, she'd always known he loved her as a friend, so it didn't mean anything that he would be sad things had ended. Besides, he could be bummed for a lot of reasons that would have nothing to do with her—like, realizing whatever hope he had of curing his paralysis was pretty much gone. She suddenly felt glum. "It's a long story."
Just then, Dean's voice came from behind TJ. "What's a long story?"
TJ turned around. "Hey, Dean."
He wasn't smiling. In fact, he was sort of hostile. "What are you doing here?" That was all he said by way of greeting, after everything they'd been through, and his words were clipped.
TJ felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and she knew immediately that he was ticked at her for some reason.
She looked around just to make sure the restaurant hadn't somehow gotten busy without her noticing, but no one new had come in. Looking back to Dean, she said, "Can we talk for a minute?"
He raised a questioning brow at Heather.
"Go ahead. Gina and I can handle it."
Dean jerked his head, indicating the kitchen.
TJ followed him through the swinging doors, thinking he would go into the back office, but he kept walking until they ended up in the alley in the back of the restaurant.
The weather was nice out, balmy and sunny. It was a lot quieter in the deserted alley away from the busy kitchen, which was why Dean must have preferred it—not to mention there was less of a chance of someone eavesdropping. The only drawback was the smell of garbage wafting from a huge dumpster that was nearby.
There were two steps that led down from the back door, and Dean sat down on the top one. "You wanna tell me what the hell happened with you and my brother?"
"Why don't you ask him?"
He gave her a look that said he had but it hadn't done much good.
She huffed a humorless laugh. "He won't talk to you, but you're pissed at me? Maybe you should get all the facts, first."
"What happened? How could you just leave him like that, especially since you know everything that happened?"
She stared at him for a moment, feeling a surge of indignation. Just what the hell kind of person did he think she was? She was about to ask him that very question, but he spoke before she could.
"Was it—was it because of what happened? Was it because you were so freaked out?"
She sat down next to him. "Wow. Sam really hasn't told you anything, has he?"
He exhaled. "Sam...no, he hasn't." Dean let his guard down for a moment, and there was worry and frustration in his tone.
She knew then that Dean wasn't really mad at her, that he was just concerned about Sam. "It doesn't have anything to do with the demon or any of that scary stuff, Dean."
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, one brow arched. "Then what happened? I thought you guys were really close."
"That was the problem." Her throat suddenly felt tight. "You know that I—you know how I felt about him."
"Felt? You don't feel that way anymore?"
That made her angry. "Of course I do. You think I'm that fickle? I can't just switch off my emotions whenever I feel like it." She stared up at the blue sky and gave a harsh laugh. "I wish to God I could."
"So what's the problem? You're happier when you're with him. He's happier when he's with you. Why aren't you still friends?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dean, I'm 'onna spell this out for you because I know, as a totally hot guy, you've probably never encountered this problem before."
He frowned.
She spoke slowly and deliberately. "I'm in love with Sam. He's not in love with me. It makes things awkward, puts me at a disadvantage."
"So what changed? It was that way before, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Dean. Thank you for pointing that out," she said dryly.
He shrugged. "Well?"
She sighed. "I thought I could live with that and still be friends with him, but...something happened, something that changed things between us—and I'm not talkin' about everything that happened with the demon."
He looked at her intenly for a second and then said, "Oh."
She could tell by his reaction that he had gotten the gist of what she'd said, that she meant that she and Sam had gone beyond the boundaries of friendship, and she felt her face grow warm. "I can't—I can't pretend anymore that nothing happened, that I'm not attracted to him, that I just think of him as a friend."
He cleared his throat. "So...it's not because of his disability, then?"
She was irritated that he would ask that, even though he was getting at something much more personal and intimate, something that neither of them wanted to talk about outright. "No. Of course not."
He exhaled, and some of the tension left his body, like he was relieved.
She blew a few stray strands of hair out of her face that had come loose from her ponytail. "I've been through this before, had feelings for someone that weren't returned. It's the story of my life. I'm not the kind of girl guys fall in love with. I'm the kind they want to be buddies with, maybe even the occasional friends-with-benefits thing but nothing serious, the kind of girl they want advice from when they want to ask some other girl out." She locked her eyes on him, making sure she had his attention. "It fuckin' hurts, Dean, and I'm not doin' it again. I'm not gonna follow Sam around like some pathetic puppy starved for attention. Do you understand?"
He met her gaze for a moment and then looked at the brick wall across the alley in front of them, his arms resting on his knees. "Yeah. I get it. But you're wrong, TJ. You're not—"
"Just save it, okay? I know you're gonna try to make me feel better, tell me what a great girl I am, so thanks, but I'm okay with it. I know I'll find somebody someday. I'm not giving up."
He slanted a look at her. "You're just giving up on Sam?"
That stung, but no matter how much she didn't want it to be, it was true. "Yeah."
He hung his head and nodded.
"I hope he's well," she went on, ignoring the tingle of tears. "I wish him all the best, and I want more than anything for him to get his life back on track. I know he will eventually. He's strong."
Dean leaned back and rubbed his hands idly on his thighs. "He, uh—he's been better in some ways, like maybe he's coming to terms with things. He got a job."
"He did? Doing what?"
"He's been working in the back office here, doing the books for Phil and Katherine."
She was surprised. "That seems a little too boring for him."
"Yeah. Probably so, but it was his idea. It's not like he intends to make a career of it. He's going back to school. In fact, he's enrolled in some classes at SDSU in the fall."
Her pulse quickened, and she grinned like an idiot, feeling a surge of utter delight. She clapped her hands together. "Dean, that's—oh, my God! That's...wonderful!"
He smiled back, looking amused by her fervent reaction. "Yeah."
She cleared her throat and tried to scale back her emotion, staring at Dean's boots, feeling kind of foolish for being so exuberant. "Sorry. That was dorky."
He was still smiling. "No, it wasn't."
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute, and then Dean said quietly, "You're lookin' good, TJ."
She knew he meant it, and she was touched. "Thanks."
"How are you?" The question was simple but loaded with meaning. How's the bulimia? How are you dealing?
Her answer was equally simple, and she hoped it held as much meaning. "I'm good."
He gave a small nod. "You're not coming back, are you—to work, I mean?" It was a statement, not a question.
She gave him a rueful look. "No. I just now got cleared by my doctor to come back, and I thought I might, but I can't..." She let out a deep sigh. "I can't work here, you know, now that he works here. It would be too weird. Besides, it would only be for three more weeks, anyway."
He rested his elbows on his knees, listening.
"I've still got that job as a teaching assistant lined up for this summer. My parents are gonna float me until that starts. I'll probably go back to Kentucky for the couple of weeks in between graduation and when the summer session starts."
"Well, I'd say we're gonna miss you, but things have been a lot quieter around here since you've been gone. Haven't had one single complaint."
She was miffed at first but then saw his cocky grin. "Shut up," she said, smiling and nudging his shoulder. "You know you'll miss me."
He sobered. "Yeah, we will," and he suddenly drew her into a hug.
She was startled at his show of affection.
He gave her a final squeeze and withdrew, standing up and brushing the dirt off the back of his jeans. "I should get back."
"Yeah." TJ stood and brushed her jeans, too. Then she remembered why she had come there in the first place. "Oh, Dean? I wanted to invite you, Heather, and Sam to my graduation and the party afterward. I mean, you guys don't have to go to commencement, but I just wanted you to know you're invited. I'm sure it'll be kind of boring. Gretchen's sort of organizing the party. It's for me and a few of our other friends who are graduating this semester."
"Oh, sure. We wouldn't miss it."
"I think we're gonna have it at the clubhouse of my apartment complex, but that's not for sure. The date is Saturday, May 24th, right after commencement. I'll let y'all know all the details once we get the place nailed down, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up."
"Why don't you have it here?"
"Too expensive."
"I'm sure I can get Phil and Katherine to give you guys a good deal."
She rolled her eyes. "They hate me, Dean."
Again, he gave her the cocky grin. "But they love me."
She snorted a laugh and followed him inside. As they approached the door to the back office, she saw that it was open, and her heart sped up, wondering if Sam was there, remembering the gift she'd left on the bar stool.
The office was empty.
Dean kept his features impassive as they made their way out into the restaurant. He took his usual place behind the bar, and she went around to the stools and saw the gift still sitting there. She set it on the bar where Dean could see.
He smirked. "Aw, TJ, you shouldn't have. My birthday's not until January."
She rolled her eyes. "You know who it's for." She felt sheepish. "I'm pathetic, right?"
"No," Dean said quietly. He picked up a white towel and started wiping down the bar. "He should be here any minute. He's running late because he had a therapy appointment. We usually work the same hours so he can ride with me, but he's taking the bus today."
The bus? Sam?
"You should wait for him," said Dean, like it was no big deal.
She shook her head, willing herself not to get weepy, despite the annoying lump in her throat and the stinging in her eyes. She slid the gift toward Dean.
He frowned at it.
"You give it to him, okay?"
"He would wanna see you, TJ."
She shook her head again, and this time she couldn't keep a tear from falling. She looked away from Dean and wiped it away, hating herself for wishing Sam was there and, at the same time, terrified because he could be there any minute. "I have to go. Tell him happy birthday."
"Tell him yourself."
She started walking toward the entrance.
"TJ, wait," called Dean.
She didn't listen. It had been a mistake to come there.
XXXXXXXX
Dean glanced sideways at Sam. His little brother was where he belonged, shotgun in the Impala. It was late, and Sam's face was in shadows, occasionally illuminated by streetlights as they passed by. It reminded Dean of old times, even if they were just coming home from work at Shorty's instead of hunting down some evil fugly.
"How was therapy?"
"Fine."
Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. Monosyllables were pretty much all he got out of Sam these days.
In some ways, despite his broodiness, Sam's disposition was a lot better. The rage and self-pity that had been there right after his injury first happened was gone.
Dean would have been relieved, except that Sam was like a shell of himself. It was like he was going through the motions of living because it was what he was supposed to do, but there was a big piece of him missing—like his heart. He was still depressed, but he tried to hide it under a veneer of robotic activity because it was the right thing to do, because it was what was expected.
Dean hadn't been fooled. He knew his brother was hurting.
Before Dean had talked with TJ today, he'd been pissed at her. He hadn't understood how she could just suddenly cut his brother off like she had.
He had thought at first that maybe it had all just been too much for her to take in but that she'd eventually come around; after a month, however, she'd still kept her distance. He had been disappointed in her, had thought she was stronger than that.
After his talk with her, though, he understood, and he couldn't blame her, although, for Sam's sake, he wished she'd change her mind. Maybe it wasn't up to her, though. Maybe it was Sam that needed the attitude adjustment.
One thing was for sure, Dean was done walking on eggshells around Sam. Sam could take care of himself, and things were gonna be different this time around.
Dean hadn't given up trying to find a cure for Sam. He would never give up, and neither would Bobby, but, in the meantime, they had to get on with their lives. It was obvious Sam was trying to do that, and Dean was going to do everything in his power to help him. He owed his brother that.
He glanced at Sam again.
Sam was staring at the road in front of them, his head resting against the headrest.
Dean fiddled with the radio, but there was nothing good on. He wasn't really in the mood for it anyway, so he turned it off. He wanted to talk.
He huffed. Between constantly trying to get Sam to open up, not to mention hanging out with Heather, he was getting too emo, too touchy-feely. He needed to go kill a baddie just to feel more like himself.
Sam had apparently noticed the huff because he glanced briefly at Dean; but, of course, he didn't say anything.
"So, TJ brought you a birthday present, huh?"
Sam lifted his head off the headrest, his shoulders stiffening.
"What was it?"
A sort of noncommittal grunt came from Sam's direction. "Shoes."
"Huh." Dean smiled inwardly, knowing what TJ must have given him.
Sam looked out the passenger window.
"You know, I bitched her out for being such a shitty friend and abandoning you."
Sam gave him a look of incredulous outrage. "You what? She's not a shitty friend. She brought me a birthday present, for Christ's sake!"
Finally, a decent reaction instead of monosyllables. "Yeah, but, I mean, where's she been for the past month? You friggin' saved the world, got rid of the devil's bitch, and TJ's too freaked out to get over it? What? Is she too scared now to hang out with you or something? I thought she was stronger than that. I thought you guys were close."
Sam's voice was even, but there was emotion simmering just below the surface. "That's not what happened. You're wrong about her."
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, Sam? I mean, for weeks, you two were practically joined at the hip, and then the whole demon thing goes down, and, poof, no more TJ."
Sam swallowed hard and looked ahead out the windshield. "It's not that simple. Things got complicated."
"Yeah. I know."
That got Sam's attention.
Dean laughed a little. "Yeah. You know TJ. She set me straight. Turns out the girl's completely in love with you. I don't know what she sees in your sorry ass, but it just goes to show, there's someone for everyone."
Sam was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "She wants more than I can give her."
"Because you don't love her back?"
Silence.
"Hey, I understand. I mean, she's a cool girl, but she's no Jessica. Jessica was hot, way out of your league, but TJ? Well, let's just be honest. She's not that pretty. You can't make yourself be attracted to her. If the physical spark's not there, it's just not there. I don't blame you for not—"
"Shut up, Dean." Sam looked as if he couldn't believe what Dean was saying. "TJ's just as beautiful as Jessica was, in her own way."
"Yeah, but, still. Let's face it. TJ's got a great personality, but she's no head-turner. She's the kind of girl guys wanna be buddies with, maybe even the occasional friends-with-benefits thing but nothing serious, the kind of girl they want advice from when they want to ask some other girl out." He looked at Sam, gauging his reaction, and went in for the kill. "She's not the kind of girl a guy falls in love with."
Sam looked furious. "I love her, you fucking dick!"
Dean had known that all along, but he held in his satisfaction that Sam had admitted it and pretended to be shocked. "What? You love her?" His words hovered in the air for a second, and then his tone was hard. "Then what's the damn problem?"
Sam's eyes were shooting daggers, but then he seemed to deflate, and he let his head fall against the seat again. "Big deal. You got me to admit I love her. It doesn't matter."
"Really? I think it would matter to TJ, because that last part that I said, all that stuff about her just being the buddy type, about her not being the kind of girl a guy falls in love with? Those were her words, dude, not mine."
Sam's brow furrowed like he was in pain, and he turned his head and, again, looked out the passenger window.
They pulled into the parking lot of their complex and parked in the disabled spot in front of their apartment. It used to be a stab in Dean's gut every time they parked there, but now it wasn't a big deal. He hardly gave it a second thought.
Dean cut off the engine and turned to Sam. "You wanna tell me why the fact that you love a girl who loves you back doesn't matter?"
Sam took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "She deserves better."
A few weeks ago, that would have cut Dean to the core, but now it just pissed him off. "You are such a damn drama queen. What is this, 'Days of Our Lives'? It's like some cheesy soap opera. The noble gimp sacrifices himself, not letting the woman he loves waste her life with him because he's no longer perfect."
Sam huffed and shook his head. "You don't understand."
"I understand that you never were perfect, Sam. Hell, you've always pretty much been a freak. But guess what? TJ knows everything about you—about the hunting, Yellow Eyes, how we grew up—and she still wants you."
"I didn't tell her, you know, about the blood...the demon blood."
"Ah, hell, Sam. You could tell her that Lucifer was your dad and your mom had four heads, and she'd just shrug it off. The girl is head over heels for you, man. Is the blood the reason you're letting her think you don't love her?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Sam didn't answer.
"Well, it can't be about your disability because—news flash—she's never really known you any other way."
Sam still didn't say anything, but his shoulders stiffened again.
Dean sighed. He so did not want to bring up Sam's sexual issues—it was just as painful for him as it was for Sam—but maybe Sam needed to talk about it. Dean decided to risk pissing him off. "Is it—does it have to do with," he cleared his throat, "sex?"
Sam was quiet for a long time, like he was going to ignore the question, but then he said in a flat tone, "We...experimented."
A knot formed in Dean's stomach. "So, uh, what happened?"
Sam didn't answer.
Dean closed his eyes for a second, imagining what it must have been like for Sam. "You didn't—you couldn't..." He cleared his throat again. "The little soldier wouldn't stand at attention?"
Sam exhaled through his nose, mouth in a tight line. "No. I mean, yeah. I mean, it's not—that's never been the problem, exactly."
Dean sat there, not sure he understood. He'd read the literature, knew how every injury could produce different levels of dysfunction, but he'd always assumed the worst for Sam, since Sam's injury was so definitive, so complete. It was one of the most devastating things about Sam's injury, and he'd never been able to bring himself to talk about it. "What do you mean that's never been the problem? I thought, you know..."
Sam stared straight ahead. "I can't feel it, but I can still get an erection. I just can't...control it."
Dean was stunned, and then he stared at Sam with disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You've always been able to get a boner, from the get-go?"
Sam colored. "Yeah."
"For Christ's sake, Sammy. That's two-thirds of the battle. Why the fuck did I deny myself for a year?"
Sam snorted. "Hell if I know. That's on you, not me."
"Dude, it was a show of solidarity."
"That's not what I needed. I needed you to just be my brother."
That hurt, and Dean was quiet for a moment. Then he let it go, knowing Sam was probably right, and pretended to be indignant. "You gotta be kiddin' me. I was constantly on the verge of a volcanic eruption, driving myself insane being around Heather day in and day out, and it was all for nothing? The whole time, little Sammy's been ready to rodeo?"
Sam shot him a strange look. "God, I swear you and TJ were twins separated at birth."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
He let that go, too, not in the mood to try to decipher the freaky thoughts rolling around in Sam's brain. "I don't believe it. I felt so sorry for you. And so guilty. I wasted a year of my life!" He looked down at his crotch. "I'm so sorry, little man. I'll make it up to you."
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean grew serious again. "I don't see where the problem is."
"The fact that I can..." Sam hung his head and exhaled a frustrated breath, running a hand roughly through his hair. "It doesn't really mean anything, Dean. You're not hearing me. I can't—I can't feel it, and I can't control it." His voice sounded suddenly quiet. "It didn't last."
"So."
Sam's brows went up. "What do you mean, 'So'? It doesn't last, Dean. I couldn't—I couldn't follow through. I had to use another way to...satisfy her."
Dean arched his brows. "Well, did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Smoke a giant bong," said Dean sarcastically. "Did you satisfy her?"
"I—I think so, but it wasn't the same."
"Well, did she like it?"
Sam's jaw clenched. "She said she did."
"But you don't believe her?"
"I...don't know."
"What was it like for you? Did you enjoy it?"
Sam paused, and an unidentifiable emotion crossed his features. "Yeah. It was, uh, different, but...it was good."
"Then you're a moron, Sam. Just go to a friggin' doctor and get something to help you. There's all kinds of stuff out there. Besides, even you're not that much of a prude. Dippin' your pen in the ink is not the only way to please a girl, and it sounds like TJ didn't have a problem with 'the other way.'"
Sam didn't reply, just sat there looking kind of bitchy.
He was silent for so long that Dean thought their conversation was over and put his hand on the door handle, getting ready to open the door.
"It's not just about...endurance," said Sam, stopping him. "There's other things to think about."
Dean leaned back again in his seat, letting his hand drop. "Like what?"
"I still can't..." Sam's jaw hardened. "What if she wants to have kids someday?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Huh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize we were talking marriage. I mean, you might wanna take her on a date, first, before you start worrying about kids."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Who knows what things might lead to, Dean? I'm just trying to avoid a bunch of heartache down the road—for both of us—when she realizes she's made a mistake."
Dean's voice was laced with irony. "Right. Because you're both so happy now. Why ruin it?"
Sam looked away.
"So, does this really have anything to do with your disability, or are you just being a chicken shit? Because no relationship comes with a guarantee. I don't care if you use a wheelchair or not."
Sam's expression was bitter. "No. But the wheelchair sure as hell doesn't help the odds any."
"Look, do you like it when people make decisions for you, do things to help you, when you really don't need it?"
Silence.
"No," Dean answered for him. "It fuckin' pisses you off. Believe me, I know. So what gives you the right to do that to TJ? You think you're doing what's best for her, but all you're doing is causing both of you unnecessary misery. Jeez, Sam. Just go get some Vee-agra and get over it."
"Viagra."
"What?"
"You said Vee-agra. It's Viagra."
Dean couldn't believe how friggin' anal Sam was sometimes. "Who gives a crap how you say it, Sammy? Just get some so you can get you some."
"Fuck off, Dean. You don't understand."
Dean felt a surge of anger and exasperation. "No, you fuck off, Sam. What I understand is that you still have a lot to offer a girl, and everyone can see that but you."
Sam's jaw cemented, and he stared stonily in front of him, retreating back into robot mode.
Dean threw up his hands in frustration. Sam was so stubborn he'd argue with a stop sign.
TBC