Come For You
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, or the Tom Cochran song, or Common Law nor am I making any profit from this story.
Author's note: As promised, here's the final chapter! Good thing too because I was running out of fitting songs!
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Chapter Seven: Going My Way
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"Life's like a road that you travel on
When there's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind
There's a world outside every darkened door
Where blues won't haunt you anymore"
Jody heard Sam's unmistakable laugh before she crested the room's doorway, saw Sam and Cas had pulled the chairs close to the bed, that the three men were in the middle of a game of rock, paper, scissors, maybe. Cas's hand gesture was more the Mork of Mork and Mindy alien greeting than the scissors one.
"No, not those fingers," Sam laughingly instructed, grabbed Cas' hand and pushed his three fingers together to show him how the hand signal was supposed to be made.
Dean looked up at their new visitor and greeted her with a smile. "Finally, someone to rescue me. Please tell me you have clothing in that bag for me so I can get out of here and not endure another round of this torture." He shot to Cas, " I thought Metatron downloaded you with pop culture. You know how to do the game Twister but you don't get how to make a scissors with your hands?"
"It's not been a skill set I've needed in the past," Cas testily volleyed back to Dean.
Jody snorted, made as if to hand the paper bag to Dean before deviously winking at him and dropping the bad into Sam's lap. "Change of clothing for you, Smoky the Bear."
Sam huffed even as he stood up, bag in hand, and headed dutifully to the bathroom in Dean's room, uncaring that it was supposed to be for patient use only. He heard his brother's voice through the thin wooden door.
"Yeah, about that smoked hickory thing you got going on. You wanna tell me about that now?" Dean rose his voice to be heard in the bathroom.
'No,' Sam silently replied but knew Dean wasn't going to let it go, had mentioned it a time or two before but had other things to distract him. Sighing as he stuffed his smoky clothing into the bag, he exited the bathroom, did a few stumbling hopping on one leg maneuvers to draw on his boots again before he took up a position leaning against the heating unit in the room and let Jody take his chair. But Dean's gaze tracked him there, pinning him with that penetrating gaze he had down pat.
"So?" and Sam recognized that it was Dean's interrogating version of the word.
Sam put his hands out like he was about to impart something so simple it was hardly worth mentioning, "On the road leading to the warehouse, I started Dom's car on fire, sent a pic of it to Michele, made her think Dom was in the trunk. She came, I took her head then ran to the warehouse to rescue the damsel in distress before she fainted from all the excitement." Hoped the taunt would throw off Dean's detective instincts.
But Dean wasn't taking the bait, wasn't even throwing a barb back at Sam, was instead leveling that measuring stare upon his brother. "Even with all the smoke…she would have smelled you. Had to know it was a trap."
"What can I say, I'm the better hunter," Sam boasted with a closed mouth smile.
"Yeah, undoubtedly. Still isn't the full story. Took her by surprise how, Sam? There was no cover out there, no trees to hide behind. So it was you, a burning car and a pissed off vampire." Then Dean's face clouded with fear. "Tell me you weren't under the car?!"
"No!" Sam denied at his brother's slight to his brilliance.
But Dean's eyes narrowed. "Where were you, Sam?" a lethalness to his tone that brought a chill to the room. "Sam!"
Giving up his relaxed pose, Sam pushed off the heating unit and towered over his brother. "You know where I was. It was my best shot at taking her by surprise."
"Sam, for the love of….what were you thinking?!" Dean wrathfully demanded, felt sick at the thought of Sam in the burning car's trunk.
"That you were dying in the warehouse and Michele stood between me getting to you! I didn't have time for some fancy plan. What I did worked, Dean!" Sam shot back, refused to apologize for risking his life to save Dean's.
"You could have burned to death, succumb to smoke inhalation! Michele could have smelled that it was you and trapped you in there or ripped your head off when she opened the trunk. It was too risky, Sam!" Dean railed, hands fisting in the sheets, trying to ignore the pain shooting up from his ribs and side from the powerful exhale of air he was expelling in nearly shouting at Sam.
Almost able to feel the pain ebbing off of Dean, Sam knew he needed to defuse the situation quickly before Dean did more harm to himself. Claiming a seat on the bed beside his brother's hip, Sam rested his hand against his brother's breast bone, spoke calmly and yet firmly as his eyes held Dean's. "Hey, just take a breath, Dean. Come on, breathe."
Obeying Sam's command, Dean pulled air into his lungs, felt the black edges that had begun to narrow his vision disappear. Drew in another breath and felt some of the pain coursing through him lessen. But his eyes still sparked with reprimand even if his next words were weak, "You shouldn't have done that, Sam."
"Yeah, well, tough," Sam growled back but there was warm affection in the look he leveled at Dean. And the hand he still held against Dean's chest was there to ground Dean, to link the brothers, not to restrain Dean's motion. Sam could feel the reassuring thud of his brother's heart under his fingers but Dean's inhale/exhales were still spaced out too far for his liking. "Take some more deep breathes, Dean."
Not really having the air capacity right then to grouse at Sam ordering him around, Dean found himself obeying his brother, would have resented that Sam's logic made him feel better if he wasn't so relieved to be able to catch his breath after a few more deep inhales and exhales. Found that he could loosen his grip on the bedsheets and the ringing in his ears was abating. 'Cocky know it all little brothers', Dean silently groused but Sam's worried expression knocked the irritation right out of him.
"You good?" Sam asked, ready to press the button for the nurse if Dean gave any indication to the contrary.
"Yeah," Dean raspingly replied, wasn't surprised that Sam grabbed his water cup the next second and he found a straw was pressed against his lips. Not worth it to fight Sam's ministrations, Dean sipped up some water, felt it soothe the dryness in his throat.
Returning the cup to the tray, Sam studied Dean, trying to make his own assessment of his brother's health. He didn't need to put his hand to Dean's forehead like Jody had earlier to know Dean was still fighting a fever, could feel the heat through the thin hospital gown under his hand and read the crinkle of pain lines around his brother's eyes. Being "Good" was a relative term with them. But he wasn't there to tear down Dean's fortifications, was there to safeguard them. "I think Cas is getting the hang of the rock, paper, scissors. Another…what? Hundred games and he'll have it down pat."
"Put me out of my misery now," Dean dramatically groaned and Sam chuckled, gave a light pat to his brother's chest and then stood up, gave Dean the space he usually craved.
"Yeah, hate to miss joining in on the intelligent games but I got two teen age girls to get back to," Jody announced as she gained her feet. "They've probably scheduled an appointment at the tattoo parlor while I'm gone." Wasn't expecting Cas to suddenly stand too, be almost in her personal space before he seemed to catch himself on the social faux pas and stepped back. She didn't miss the look Cas sent to Dean or the approving nod Dean returned, like Dean was proud of Cas for remembering social graces.
"Sheriff Mills, I wanted to thank you for taking in Claire. I know…I wish….If I could have helped her more…"Cas stammered, still felt guilty at the heartbreak he had unintentionally brought down on the girl.
"It's Jody," Jody corrected, "and…the way Claire talks about you, you've done just fine by her. I'll send her your love."
But that statement threw Cas for a loop, had him stammering, "I'm not sure my love is…"
Sam stepped in to save the day on that one. "What Jody means is, she'll tell Claire you asked about her." At that clarification, Cas nodded his consent.
Then Jody came to Dean's side, brushed that pesky spring of unruly hair off his forehead and leaned down and hugged him, said by his ear, "No matter what you're going though, you're not alone, kiddo. Don't forget that."
Huskily, Dean replied, "I won't," as he returned her hug before she drew back, went to Sam to exchange a hug with him. Then with a "You need me, you call me," command she left the three men alone in the room.
Cas nearly sighed, reluctant to leave. "Guess I should be going too. I have…" but he broke off because his plans weren't for publication, not when finding Metatron topped his to-do list, lamely completed his sentence with, "…things I need to do."
"Wow, that's specific," Dean teased but it got a small smile out of Cas as it was intended to.
"I'll come by the Bunker in a week or two, maybe I'll be able to restore more of your health by then," Cas planned, hoped to find something in his travels that would help get around the Mark's block in healing Dean's injuries.
"Or you could just stop by to kick back and shoot the breeze," Dean countered, wanted Cas to know he didn't need to do any angel miracles to be welcome at the Bunker, that his presence was gift enough.
Cas smiled as Dean's meaning sank in. "I'd like that." Turning to Sam he simply offered "Sam" as a way of goodbye and left the brothers on their own.
"Well, looks like it's just you, me…and an entire medical floor of patients, nurses and doctors. Cozy,really," Dean drawled, hoped Sam was reading his dissatisfaction with being stuck in the hospital loud and clear.
Sam did…and chose to ignore his brother's discontentment. Instead, he plumped down on his chair again, brought his long legs up to rest on the end of Dean's bed and settled in for a nap. Watching out for his big brother was a tiring job.
"I know you're not asleep, Sammy," Dean called out to his brother. "Hey, let's at least talk about this staying in the hospital idea. Sam? Sam?"
Sam fought back a smirk but kept this eyes closed when Dean quietly started to grumble to himself.
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"There ain't no load I can't hold
Road so rough this I know
I'll be there when the light comes in
Just tell 'em we're survivors"
The Bunker was a sight for sore eyes, and not just for Dean. A week in the hospital turned out to be pretty torturous for both of them, Sam's back was killing him from sleeping in the visitor chairs night after night and Dean's hand was black and blue from the IV port, his sleep patterns screwed to high heaven, his hair was growing out and his stomach was rumbling for something more satisfying than soup or cold mashed potatoes and questionable meat under a lid.
But reaching the Bunker was one thing, getting Dean inside and down to his room was yet another hurdle to tackle. "Can't believe they don't have a friggin' elevator in this whole building," Sam grumbled, knew, in theory. parking out front and helping Dean down the spiral stairway was better than pulling into the garage and making Dean huff it up four flights of narrow, uneven stairs. But it still seemed like a daunting task as he stood at the top of the spiral staircase, didn't miss that Dean was leaning heavily against the railing, breathing heavily at the energy it drained from him to get out of the car and take the twenty steps into the Bunker's front door entrance.
It made Sam worriedly bite his lower lip, still trying to devise a better plan on how to get Dean into the bunker. Was on the verge of suggesting they bug out and go to a motel when Dean broke the silence. "Crap but it's good to be back," unknowingly dispelling Sam's plan B.
Letting out a held breath, Sam put himself in motion and came to Dean's side. Slipping his arm around Dean's waist, he levered Dean from his lean against the railing to come to a lean against him. "Ok, well, your foam bed's probably forgotten you by now," he jeered to distract Dean as they made their first lumbering step toward the stairs of doom.
"Bite your tongue! We're so into each other," Dean shot back, a little breathless already.
"You're so disturbed," Sam chided but he couldn't keep the fondness from his tone. Halted them on the precipice of the stairs and looked to his brother. "You ready to do this?"
"No…" Dean replied in rare honesty but before Sam could flip out and offer to carry him again, he resolutely announced, "But let's do it anyways." Cinching Dean tighter to him, Sam stepped down onto the first stair even as Dean matched his motion. And then it was slow, in synch motion, step after step after step until Dean stumbled, felt his legs trembling under his own weight. Without a word, Sam pushed Dean to sit down on the stairs, managed to put his tall frame on the step below his brother while keeping his hold on Dean's arms.
Dean was plastered in sweat, his eyes were closed and his breathing pained.
"Dean, what do you need me to do?" Sam asked, fighting back a wave of panic, wondering if he should be carrying Dean up the stairs they just traversed, shoving him back into the Impala and putting petal to the metal to the nearest hospital.
Resting his too hot forehead against the cold railing of the staircase, Dean mumbled, "Just need a minute, Sammy."
"Take as long as you need, Dean. I'm not going anywhere."
"Know you're not," Dean breathed before he opened his eyes, felt guilty for the worry he was causing Sam. But he had done more than worry Sam lately. A lot worse. "You didn't mean it, I know that, Sam. I should have known it the second you said it," Dean declared.
The statement brought Sam to a mental standstill, had him trying to figure out what Dean knew he didn't mean, "Dean, I…don't understand."
And Dean wanted to sigh because of course Sam wanted the full-all-inclusive chick flick package. "You know, that you wouldn't save me…same circumstances." Watched as the color drained from Sam's face…just like it had in that cabin with Charlie when he had thrown Sam's sentiments back in his face. He hurriedly continued, "Sam, I knew you'd come for me when Michele had me, that you'd risk your life for mine. Do whatever you had to do to save me, like sticking with me until the paramedics showed and letting yourself get arrested and being stupid enough to go up against Dom without a weapon. So we're good, ok. I shouldn't have made you think you had to prove something that I never should have doubted."
Dean's words were a lot to take in, mentally and emotionally and it took Sam a moment to formulate a comeback. "I should have never said those words, Dean. Didn't mean them even as I was saying them. I was pissed and…I just reacted. But …I get now why you did what you did to save me. And I know what I'm capable of when it comes to saving you," Sam declared, silently tallied his sins in that department, knew he was capable of committing a lot of atrocities in the name of brotherly love.
Dean stilled at Sam's loaded statement, felt an uncomfortable chill go down his spine. "What are you talking about, Sam? What are you capable of?"
But Sam wasn't going to answer that question, instead prodded, "You good to go a few more steps? We can take another break after that."
Dean nodded, felt his wound in his side and the healing ribs flare in pain as Sam helped him stand up, but it felt good, the pressure of Sam's arm coiled around his waist, bracing the wounds. Gave him the fortitude to take another step and another and not stop until they reached the ground floor. Then it was an old man's shuffle until they made it through the map room, up a few stairs, down a few and through the hallway.
His bedroom never looked so good to him as they crossed over its threshold. And though he wanted to crash full out on the bed, Sam sat him on the edge of the bed instead.
Bending down to be eye level with Dean, Sam cupped his brother's right cheek. "You're not gonna pass out on me, are you? Can sit here a bit until I get the covers situated?"
"Not gonna pass out," Dean stubbornly pledged, though his words were a little slurred.
But Sam took his oath as truth, nodded and then slipped his hand free of Dean's face. He made quick work of pulling back the covers then he was kneeling in front of Dean, pulling off Dean's boots before he tugged Dean to his feet, had him do a two-step shamble before he eased him back on the bed, hand bracing his neck until his head found it's home on the pillow. Then Sam swung Dean's legs up onto the mattress.
The room spinning around him, Dean closed his eyes, lost a little time then felt his bed dip with Sam's weight at his hip, gave a little start when something cool came to rest across his forehead. He didn't protest when Sam used the wet wash cloth to wipe away the sweat soaking his face and neck. Found it oddly relaxing when Sam's fingers clutched his wrist so his brother could measure his heart rate, didn't even care when Sam raised his t-shirt, lifted his bandage and prodded gently on his ribs. Though he groaned a little in discomfort, it wasn't the roaring agony that he felt in the warehouse with a rebar in his gut or even the first few days in the hospital on the good drugs.
Feeling the weight of Sam's stare, Dean finally managed to pry his eyes open, could read Sam's body language like he could the sound of the Impala's engine. Made it easy for Dean to know that his brother was worrying himself into an early grave, over him. "That sucked but you were wrong."
Sam swallowed hard, knew he had been wrong about a million things, hated to think what one thing Dean was thinking of. "Wrong about what?" 'Letting you leave the hospital, driving across how many states in one day in a desperate need to get you home? Dragging you down twenty three stairs? Making you feel unloved enough that you went and got the Mark of Cain branded on your arm, your soul?' His sins were innumerable in his eyes.
But a smile turned up Dean's lips and he patted the mattress under his worn and abused body. "The memory foam…it didn't forget me."
And Sam didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry or simply hug his brother. Settled for a beloved insult of "You're an idiot," instead.
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Dean knew he had been sleeping more than awake for the past two weeks, that his concept of time was screwed up but it still seemed entirely too early for happy whistling. Hauling himself, gingerly for the sake of his wound and broken ribs, out of bed, he exited his room and followed the sound to his brother's bedroom. Taking up a leaning stance against the doorframe that helped keep him upright, he watched his brother as he stood on his bed and used a level to mark a straight line across the back wall of his room. Noted that the room had undergone other changes already, like the set of Shakespeare volumes that had been incongruently in among the other men of letters books were now in a place of honor on Sam's bureau. Then there was a painting of a mountain range tilting against the left wall, apparently the one that Sam was making room for above his headboard.
"You turn into Martha Stewart while I was sleeping?" Dean posed, causing Sam to swivel around to see his guest. Dean was blindsided by the smile Sam beamed at him.
"Hey, you're up before the afternoon soaps. That mean you're feeling better?" hope gushing from Sam's tone.
Dean hated to disappoint Sam's optimism so he simply said, "Yeah, pretty good" and chose not to mention it was whistling-while-you-work Sam that roused him from sleep. Dean raised his finger and gestured around the room, "Making some changes I see."
Sam gave a shrug like him getting the decorating bug wasn't out of the ordinary for him. "Thought it was time."
"For a change, yeah, gotcha," Dean quietly said, trying to hide his hurt, knew that Sam felt stifled in the Bunker, like it was a ball and chain ,just like he felt Dean was on most days.
Detecting the hurt in Dean's reply, realizing that his brother wasn't making the right conclusions, Sam leaned the level against the wall, stepped off the bed and circled the bed to pick u wooden picture frame. "You're just in time to help me," he declared. Picking something else off the bureau, he turned and presented that item to Dean.
But Dean froze mid grab, felt his hand tremble before he saw it shake. Fisting it, he pulled it back. Was relieved it didn't come into contact with what Sam had held out to him. "No," Dean bluntly ground out before he turned on his heels but Sam suddenly squeezed between him and the door, blocked his escape.
"Dean, it wasn't you," Sam implored, needed his brother to get past his guilt. "I trust you." And he again held out the hammer for his brother to take hold of, the same hammer that demon Dean had sought to bury in Sam's brain.
Dean recoiled from the hammer in Sam's hold, retreated further back into his brother's room. "Sam….just ….no." Felt like touching that hammer, it would remind him too much of the last time, his blood lust to see Sam die, the hatred brimming in every pore he owned. Still remembered, like it was only moments ago, the horrifying reality washing over him when the purified blood did it's cleansing of how close he had come to killing his own brother, completing the Mark's wish #1. How he had dropped to his knees, gasping for breath when Sam released him from the cuffs, tried to help him from the chair.
But Sam was merciless, pursued Dean until Dean's back slammed into the far wall, until Dean had nowhere else to go. "Sam, don't," Dean pleaded, felt his chin tremble with the sob fighting to be free, was pressing his head against the wall so hard he thought he would go through it. He didn't want to unleash that dark part of himself again, didn't want to chance hurting Sam ever again. Needed to stay locked down, to know his boundaries and remember his failures and hold himself accountable for them.
At Dean's reaction, Sam felt his own eyes well, didn't want to hurt Dean more but knew his brother was hurting himself, doling out punishment to himself for actions he had had no control over. Dropping the hammer onto the bed, he faced his brother. "I'm not going to let you carry guilt and shame that's not your fault, Dean. I'm not going to stand by and let you rip yourself apart from the inside out. I know about hurting people you love with your own hands."
"Kevin was my fault!" Dean ground out, didn't want Sam to continue to carry that weight.
"I'm talking about the times I hurt you….when I nearly strangled you to death when I was on demon blood, when I shot you while possessed by Meg, when I emptied rock salt into your chest at that asylum, when I let you get turned into a vampire. Me, my hands, my weakness."
"You weren't in control, Sam," Dean defended his little brother, which Sam latched onto readily.
"And neither were you," Sam quietly but firmly volleyed back, causing Dean to stiffen against the wall. "Dean, you can't blame yourself for the exact same thing that you've given me a free pass on, that's not how this brother thing works. So either I'm guilty of hurting you all those times….or you're innocent of trying to hurt me with some lame carpenter's chose of weaponry."
For a moment, Dean didn't breath then he inhaled sharply and hung his head, felt his brother's hand wrap around the base of his neck and then he was pulled into his brother's hold. "It's just a stupid hammer, Dean. It's not a cursed object…and neither are you, ok. I'm over it and now so are you. Got that?"
Sam felt Dean's head rock against his chest in a nod of agreement and he let out a soul deep sigh of relief. When Dean lifted his head, met his eyes, Sam knew that Dean was accepting at least some of his absolution. Bracketing Dean's face, he said in his I'm-trying-to-be-taken-seriously-but-I'm-totally-not-being-serious tone, "Now, are you going to help me decorate my room… or is hanging pictures too girly for you?"
"Pretty much…but for you, I'll manage," Dean hoarsely replied, trying to wipe away the anguish. Then Sam was presenting him with that friggin' hammer again…and this time he took it, didn't feel hatred or blood lust or …even that well of guilt as it fit into his palm. Knowing that Sam was watching him, he raised his head and nodded that he was ok in response to the question in his brother's eyes.
Going back to his bureau, Sam picked up th picture frame again, pointed to a place on the east wall. "Figured this could go there." Then he handed the picture frame to Dean. "What do you think?"
Unprepared to see a picture of himself and Sam in the frame, Dean drew in a sharp inhale, his eyes flying up to his brother's.
Sam shrugged a little guiltily. "Stole it from your collection. Just feels….right, hanging it up. I know we're not your traditional family but I think our home should still have pictures."
Dean's eyes widen when Sam referenced the Bunker as his "home". "I thought…" his voice thick before he swallowed down his emotions and continued, "I thought this wasn't a home. Was just….a few steps up from a motel."
Sam shuffled a little on his feet in shame. "Yeah, well, I was wrong…about a lot of things. And when you were…gone…" his voice cracking on the word, "I knew what it once was and wouldn't be again until I got you back."
A little overwhelmed, Dean took a seat on the bed, knew his action worried Sam because his brother was suddenly crouched down in front of him, his hand on his knee. "That's what you said in the bar," Dean recalled, meeting Sam's gaze head on.
"What bar? When?" Sam asked, not sure what had Dean upset but willing to do anything to make it right.
"You said you had come to take me home," Dean felt his throat close up at the memories of Sam's words, words so unwanted by his demon self but so longed for by his human self.
Sam felt his own emotions surging to the surface, choked out in half a laugh and half a sob, "Yeah and you mocked me for it."
"Demon me was a real killjoy, huh?" Dean disparagingly sallied back, felt a tear slip free and run down his cheek.
"No fears that I'll be trading you in for him any time soon," Sam reassured, watching as some more of the anguish lifted from his brother's features.
Dean jangled the picture in his grip, remembered a thousand times laughing at Sam's side, that this picture captured just one moment out of a lifetime of contentment in each other's company. "Can't believe you stole this from me?!" he poured on the indignation.
"Hey, what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours," Sam justified his thievery before he crossed over to his desk drawer, pulled out anothe frame and dropped it into Dean's lap with an explanation of "Because I knew you'd whine…"
A matching photo stared up at Dean. Dean bestowed one of his real smiles on his brother. "You were afraid I'd give you a beat down for stealing my picture, weren't you?"
"No…" Sam emphatically denied before he smirked and confessed, "Maybe." Watched as Dean ran his fingers over the picture and the frame.
"Thanks Sammy…for…." Dean started but there weren't words for all that Sam had done for him, the picture the least of it.
"I know," Sam gently cut him off as their eyes held. He didn't need Dean to say thanks for things Sam wanted to do for him. For things Sam would do for Dean that Dean would never ask him to do, maybe never condone him to do for him. Because some things no one needed to tell you to do, you just did them out of love: like coming for your brother when he was lost and bringing him back home to you.
"There was a distance between you and I
A misunderstanding once but now
We look it in the eye
Life is a highway
I want to ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I want to drive it all night long" **
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THE END!
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** Life is a Highway by Tom Cochrane
I can't thank everyone enough for being so generous with your praise and encouragement on this story! It made it a joy to post and easy to come up with the super long chapters.
Have a great day!
Cheryl W.