Chapter Eleven: Brother, Brother
Sam thrashed and whimpered, tangled in the blankets. Dean stood in the bedroom doorway, wondering if he should go inside and wake his brother.
He had heard Sam from downstairs- he was sleeping on the couch because his brother didn't want to be alone in the same room with him- and came running to his aid.
Bobby was fast asleep, snoring down the hallway in his own room and although Dean knew he could- and should- wake the older hunter, he didn't.
Dean's pizza sat heavily in his stomach as he watched his brother before he decided he had to do something and stepped into the bedroom.
Coming to stand beside his sibling's bed, Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Sam, Sam wake up," he said, trying to rouse his brother.
The fourteen-year old did wake. He scrabbled away from Dean, whimpering.
"Please… please don't hurt me!"
"Sammy," Dean said, trying to comfort his brother, "It's alright, I'm not going to do anything to you."
Even in the darkness Dean could see Sam's eyes were wide and fearful.
"Sam, please listen to me," Dean tried but his brother interrupted him.
"Go away!"
Dean left the room, his heart aching in his chest.
SPN
Sam sat up in bed, staring at the darkened room around him.
He was shaking fearfully. He'd been so afraid Dean was going to hurt him.
Tears dripped down Sam's nose and he buried his face against his knees.
He wanted to trust Dean, he really did but he was just so scared.
"Please… tell me what's happening… someone… please… I don't know what to do…"
SPN
Dean sat up on Bobby's old brown couch.
Wide awake.
Gritting his teeth, he punched one of the couch's arms.
He knew he shouldn't have woken his brother like he had. He knew what Sam's reaction would be.
And still he'd done it.
He just couldn't be patient.
No, that wasn't it… he just wanted his baby brother back. He didn't want Sam to be afraid of him anymore.
SPN
Bobby's eyebrows knitted together as he realized how utterly quiet the house was.
Both Winchesters were completely silent.
Dean stared into his mug of coffee moodily and Sam sat leaning against the kitchen doorframe, staring into the living room.
Bobby sighed but didn't say anything about the silence.
Instead he stood up and stretched, "I'm going to the garage to work on a car, either of you boys wanna keep me company?"
Dean shrugged, "No."
Sam however, looked up at Bobby and stood. The grizzled hunter had figured as much.
He walked from the kitchen and heard Sam following him like an eager puppy.
W
Sam sat in the driver's seat of the old green Camero Bobby was working on.
The hunter smiled even though he could not see the young man- the Camero's hood was up- and was happy that Sam felt so comfortable with him.
If only he could feel this way around Dean.
He would, Bobby knew it, eventually. They just had to work on regaining that trust.
"Can I help?"
Bobby looked up and saw that Sam had left the driver's seat and was now standing beside him.
"Sure, Son," Bobby said and began pointing out the different parts of the engine and explaining what he thought was wrong with the car and what needed to be fixed.
Sam listened intently, his expression serious.
"Hey Sammy," Dean's voice called from behind them and the younger man turned quickly.
"H-Hey," Sam answered and stepped back from the car.
"No, don't leave on my account," Dean said, "I'll just hang out here."
Dean was standing in the doorway of the garage and he leaned against it now, arms crossed casually across his chest.
Sam stared at his brother for a long moment before approaching the Camero again and was soon preoccupied with helping the veteran hunter fix its engine.
SPN
A week passed and Sam gradually grew more at ease with Dean's presence. The eighteen-year old still felt as though he was stepping on eggshells around his brother but he didn't complain- it was his own fault Sam thought he was going to attack him at a moment's notice- and instead reminded himself that it could have been much worse.
Sam didn't run from the room every time he saw Dean and he even spoke to him a little.
Yes, they were baby steps but Sam was coming around and Dean couldn't be more excited.
W
Dean woke groggily, wonder what it was that had roused him from sleep.
Blinking blearily in the darkened bedroom- Sam felt comfortable enough to share the room with his brother again- Dean was about to go back to sleep when he heard a whimper.
"No…Please…"
It was Sam.
He was having a nightmare.
Dean got up instantly and moved to his brother's side.
"Sam," he whispered and reached out hesitantly.
"Sammy, wake up," Dean said and touched his sibling's shoulder.
The fourteen-year old flinched and scrambled into a sitting position.
"It's okay! It's just me!" Dean announced, certain that his words were not going to make his brother feel any better.
"D-Dean?"
"Yeah," he answered, "You were having a bad dream."
To Dean's surprise, Sam reached out and touched his arm.
"I- I'm s-sorry I woke you u-up," the fourteen-year old stammered nervously.
"Don't worry about it Sam," Dean said quietly.
Both brothers were silent for a moment; Sam appeared to be waiting for something, before Dean stood.
"I should get back to bed."
"W-Wait!" Sam cried and Dean froze.
"Sam?"
"C-Can you sit w-with me… just f-for a little while," the younger sibling asked anxiously.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked cautiously. He was delighted that Sam wanted him nearby but he also was wary of startling his sibling and ruining all the progress he'd made.
"I'm s-sure," Sam said and Dean sat back down.
To Dean's surprise, his brother leaned against him, almost melting into him. Carefully, he raised his arms and gently hugged his brother. Sam let out a sigh.
Dean swallowed, fighting back the tears that were welling in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered, "I'm so damn sorry. I was an idiot. I wasn't thinking and almost got you killed."
Sam didn't reply but his thin arms snaked around Dean's midsection and squeezed tightly.
SPN
Bobby looked up from his paper as both Sam and Dean walked into the kitchen the next morning.
Together.
"Did I miss something last night?" he asked.
Dean just smiled at him. Sam looked away but he seemed more at ease with his brother than he had been the past week.
"Did you eat breakfast yet, Bobby?" Dean asked and the grizzled hunter frowned.
"A piece of fruit ain't much of a breakfast," he grumbled.
Dean smirked, "Doctor's orders."
Bobby scowled, "What do doctors know?"
"You don't want another heart attack do you?" Dean said and Bobby sighed.
The eighteen-year old opened the refrigerator and pulled out a half a grapefruit. He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon and set them in front of Bobby.
"An' what are you boys gonna be eating?" he asked as he began to slice into one section of the grapefruit's pink flesh.
"I was thinking of having pancakes," Dean told him, "With butter and maple syrup."
Bobby glared at him as he shoved a piece of unsweetened grapefruit into his mouth.
SPN
Sam smiled hesitantly at his brother as Dean placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.
"Mind sliding one of those my way, Son?" Bobby asked, smiling.
Sam curled an arm around his plate but returned the older hunter's grin.
Dean eyed his brother warily, afraid to say anything and let it go this one time as Sam plopped a pancake slathered in butter and syrup onto the top of Bobby's grapefruit.
"Ahhh," Bobby said with an exaggerated sigh as he bit into a piece of pancake, "Pure heaven."
"Yeah, pure heaven that will send you to Heaven," Dean commented.
Bobby raised an eyebrow at him, "Since when did you become a health-nut, Dean?"
"Since you nearly died on us," Dean told him pointedly.
Sam's grin disappeared and he stared at his own breakfast, no long hungry.
"Are you done eating, Sam?" Dean asked and the fourteen-year old nodded.
"I was thinking…" Dean said but then hesitated.
Sam looked up at him curiously; what was Dean going to say?
Was he in trouble? No, he couldn't be. That wasn't it.
"I found our old soccer ball the other day," Dean told him, "And I was wondering if you wanted to play outside for a while."
Sam mulled the idea over. A week had passed. An entire week since Dean- no, the dybbuk- had tried to kill him and his brother hadn't done anything to him. Maybe Dean really just wanted to play soccer. But then again, maybe it was a trick.
"Uh…" Sam paused, "Umm…"
Dean shook his head, "You don't have to play if you don't want to, okay? But I wouldn't mind some company."
Sam looked to Bobby and the older hunter smiled at him.
"Go on, Son," he encouraged and Sam found the decision made for him.
Sam stood and headed out of the kitchen. As he walked out, he heard Bobby speak to Dean.
"I wanna talk to you for a minute."
SPN
Dean turned to the grizzled hunter, one eyebrow raised, expecting Bobby to give him shit for suggesting he and Sam play a game of soccer.
Bobby stood up slowly and met Dean's hazel eyes with his own grey ones.
"It ain't all yer fault you know."
Dean didn't respond for a minute.
"What?"
"The dybbuk," Bobby explained, "Sure, it wasn't the brightest idea you've ever had but… it wasn't all your fault… what happened."
Again Dean waited for Bobby to speak.
"I got a call from a rookie hunter," he said, "Rich Anderson, wanting to know how to get rid o' pixies."
Dean didn't see what this had to do with the dybbuk so he waited.
"I left the motel," Bobby confessed, "Went home to get a book on English folklore. By the time I'd got back to the motel, you and Sam were already gone."
Dean frowned, "But… didn't you have the mic?"
Now Bobby really looked chagrinned, "I left it on the desk. Nothing was happening and I didn't think. I'm an old fool, Dean… an old fool that nearly got yer brother killed."
Dean didn't say anything for a long moment. He was angry at Bobby. He was the veteran hunter! He should have known better!
Without speaking, he turned and left the kitchen, seething.
He stormed outside and saw Sam holding the soccer ball, a nervous smile on his face.
"I don't want to play," he said, his anger seeping through and headed off towards the maze of dilapidated cars.
SPN
Sam let the ball slip from his hands and he stared after Dean, hurt.
Had he done something wrong?
Slowly, in case his brother came back, Sam retreated to the house and stepped inside, trying not to cry.
"Dean?" Bobby's voice called wearily from the kitchen.
"It's me," Sam replied quietly.
"Are you alright?" Bobby asked, standing in the kitchen doorway.
"Did I do something Bobby? Dean's mad at me," Sam asked the veteran hunter.
Bobby shook his head instantly, "No, Son, you didn't do anything. It's me he's pissed at."
Sam nodded and then went upstairs without asking why. He had learned when he was with his father not to ask too many questions.
He went into the guest bedroom, closed the door and sat down on the edge of his bed.
SPN
"Dean! Dean, where are you?!"
The eighteen-year old heard Bobby calling his name but he didn't respond. He slid down further into the Camero's seat so and fumed.
"Dean," the grizzled hunter said, closer to the teen's hiding place than he knew, "I'm sorry. I should have said something earlier. It's me who's the idjit."
Dean heard Bobby sigh and then grunt. There was the sound of something heavy hitting the ground and then silence.
After a moment Dean heard whispering. He didn't know who it was but he knew it couldn't be good.
The whisperers walked away and Dean peeked out of the car's window.
Bobby was lying on his back a few feet away, eyes closed and a bruise forming on his brow.
"Shit," Dean muttered and climbed from the car.
He had no clue who had attacked Bobby but it was clear they were dangerous. He looked around for a weapon and saw a piece of metal on the ground. As long as his arm and tapered down to a point at one end, the piece of scrap metal would have to do.
Dean paused at Bobby's prone form and pressed his fingers against the old hunter's neck. Bobby was alive, just unconscious.
Standing, Dean shaded his eyes with one hand and saw two forms slip into Bobby's house.
"Shit," Dean whispered again and followed them at a distance, the scrap of metal clutched in one hand.
SPN
Sam sighed and slid off the bed. He walked across the bedroom and opened the door. He heard footsteps coming from the lower floor of the house and wondered if Dean was back inside, talking to Bobby.
Turning and heading down the hallway, Sam let himself into the bathroom.
SPN
Dean crept up the porch steps, his footsteps light- he knew just which stairs were creaky and avoided them- before sidling up to the screen door and peering inside, careful to keep out of sight.
One of the intruders was in Bobby's living room, pulling books down from the shelves, perhaps searching for something. Dean didn't see the other one and that worried him.
SPN
Sam jumped when he heard thudding coming from downstairs. He glanced over his shoulder and flushed the toilet before going to the sink.
Maybe Dean and Bobby were fighting rather than talking. His brother had seemed very mad when he'd passed Sam earlier on the front porch.
The creak of floorboards outside startled Sam and he looked up, confusedly.
Was someone upstairs with him?
SPN
Dean couldn't see the man's face. He was wearing a beige nylon stocking over his head, like a bank robber or something. Whoever he and his partner were, they didn't want Bobby to recognize them.
Taking a deep breath, Dean used his shoulder to push the screen door open just enough to slip through, easing it closed again silently he locked his eyes on the intruder's back; the man too intent on tearing Bobby's bookshelf apart to notice he wasn't alone.
SPN
Sam gasped in fear when the bathroom door was wrenched open and a man stepped into the room. A stocking hid the intruder's face but Sam could very clearly see the serrated hunting knife in the man's hand.
"Pl-" Sam began but cried out when the man grabbed his hair and pulled him out of the small bathroom.
"Where is it?" The intruder hissed in Sam's ear and pressed the knife to the fourteen-year old's throat.
"I- I- I-" Sam stammered, too terrified to speak.
The man shoved Sam onto the floor and stepped over him, his feet on either side of Sam's chest.
The teen stared up fearfully at his attacker. Who was this man? What did he want?
"Where is it?" the man repeated and Sam shook his head.
"D-Don't k-k-know," Sam stuttered. The man growled and grabbed the front of Sam's shirt, pulling him up.
"You know," he told Sam, "I know you do."
Sam's eyes widened as the man began walking forward, pushing the boy along ahead of him. Towards the stairs.
SPN
Dean cursed as the floorboard squawked under his foot and the man at the bookshelf turned around.
Dean didn't waste any time. As the intruder turned Dean lunged forward, swinging the piece of metal.
SPN
Sam grabbed at the man's hands, trying to pull them away.
"Pl-Please!" he begged but the man did not release him.
"Maybe you'll remember where it is after this," the man said and shoved Sam.
The fourteen-year old stumbled, trying to find footing but his feet only touched thin air. His arms pinwheeled comically as he pitched backwards down the staircase, landing with a sickening thud at the bottom.
SPN
The man cried out in pain as the sharp piece of metal sliced into his side.
Dean pulled the makeshift blade out- blood squirted from the wounded man's side- and stared in horror as his brother's body landed heavily at the bottom of the stairs.
"SAM!" he shouted fearfully and turned.
The eighteen-year old grunted as pain blossomed in his back and he looked over his shoulder to see the man he'd attacked holding the handle of a knife, a knife that was buried in Dean's back.
SPN
Sam opened his eyes slowly, blinking blood away from them. He was staring at the wall beside the stairs.
He tried to sit up but his shoulder- the one John had dislocated all those months ago- refused to hold his weight and hung uselessly at his side.
The fourteen-year old heard sounds of a struggle in the living room but couldn't turn to see what was happening. The steady thunk-thunk-thunk of footsteps on the stairs alerted the boy to the fact that his attacker was coming for him again.
Rising up on his uninjured arm, Sam scooted away from the stairs the best he could.
"Do you remember now?" the man asked as he approached Sam.
The teen shook his head.
"Please… don't h-hurt me…"
The man reached down and grabbed Sam's shirt, yanking him up. Sam cried out as his dislocated arm was jostled mercilessly.
Sam looked past the man, at the scene in the living room and saw Dean ram his back into Bobby's bookshelf, pinning a second intruder between the heavy piece of furniture and his own body.
Sam's attention was torn away from his brother when the man holding him shook him roughly.
"Where is it?!" the man shouted in his face.
"I- I don't know w-what your talking about!" Sam cried out.
"I don't like liars," the man almost whispered and his knife appeared again, the tip against the base of Sam's throat.
Blood welled up against Sam's skin as the man pressed down lightly on the blade.
SPN
Dean bent over, grinding his teeth in pain, and flipped the man over, keeping the man pinned against the bookshelf so he couldn't escape.
The intruder released the knife and landed heavily on his back, stunned.
Dean raised the piece of metal and brought the pointed end down on the man's abdomen, the tip sinking into the intruder's stomach.
The attacker gasped and reached up to grab the makeshift blade embedded in his gut but Dean was already wrenching it out with a wet sucking sound and advancing at the man holding his baby brother.
SPN
Sam cried out in pain as the man slid the knife down, cutting into his chest.
"You tell me where it is and I'll kill you right now, quick."
Sam closed his eyes and startled when the man holding him suddenly gave a gurgle and dropped him onto the floor.
Sam groaned in pain and opened his eyes to see what had caused the man to let him go.
His attacker's body was leaking blood onto the hardwood floor, his head nearly severed.
Dean stood in front of the man, the shard of metal fell from his hand and he collapsed to his knees.
"Dean!" Sam cried and crawled over the dead man to his sibling, "Dean! Dean!"
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured and brushed his brother's bangs back with one blood-smeared hand.
Ignoring his own pain, Sam reached out with his uninjured arm and wrapped it around Dean. He startled when he felt the grip of the knife still lodged into his sibling's back.
"D-Dean," Sam whimpered.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean repeated.
Sam blinked blood from his eyes and rested his head against his brother's chest. He barely noticed when Dean listed to one side; he simply curled up against him and closed his eyes.
Author's Note:
Chapter title comes from a Carole King song of the same name.
Thanks to Alona, ncsupnatfan, SPN Mum, reannablue, tracyeubanks1, sarah, Kasey, BranchSuper, mandancie for reviewing.
Please leave a review, Valued Readers.