A/N: Huge thanks to Skalidra for beta reading :)
And the story goes on...
CHAPTER SIX
They appeared in a motel room. The place was immersed in darkness, lit by a streetlamp's orange light flowing from the outside. Sam took a moment in this serene setting to slow down his racing thoughts and calm his nerves. He felt sick. His skin was prickling, hands trembling. Dean's previous memory was disturbing and Sam dreaded where the line of Dean's past would head from now on.
"Sam." Castiel's voice penetrated his thoughts. Sam expected to hear more complaints and reasons why they should leave Dean's memories. However, after the last scene, Cas seemed to have forgotten all about that. "Have you been aware that Dean was… drawing other's attention to himself as a child?" The angel's tone was steady, didn't waver. And if Sam hadn't seen the storm building behind the icy blue eyes, he'd have wrongly guessed Cas to be calm as the voice suggested. He knew better though.
Sam thought to the days he'd been a small kid, not bothered by anything but the fact his father had been leaving them alone too often. "To be honest, I don't remember much." He tried hard not to berate himself for forgetting but was losing that fight. He shouldn't have lost those important parts of Dean's life from his mind. It was unforgivable. "I mean, we were practically nonstop on the way… and the places we'd stop by weren't children-safe…" Sam remembered many weird people, repulsive ones, those that looked like serial killers or psychopaths. Dad had his ways of keeping them away from him and Dean, so Sam had never been often in contact with anyone really dangerous. Apparently, Dean was met with a different fate.
Sam had been so blind.
"You were very young," Cas said. "It wasn't in your power to hold onto those memories."
Sam sighed, looking around the room. He tapped nervously on the table, fingertips vanishing through the surface without sound. Logically, he knew Cas was right but it still didn't stop him from feeling like a crap.
"There he is," Benny said. Sam spared him a glance for the first time since they'd appeared at this place. The vampire's posture screamed problems, tension built in a straight spine. If the trucker was put in front of Benny, he'd end up a bloody mess on the floor.
Sam wasn't sure how he himself would react. They didn't kill people. They killed monsters. But the perverted trucker had hardly been a person. The thought of beating him to death was a temptation, and a small cowardly part of Sam was glad these memories were just that, memories. He could fume, be furious, want to kill the trucker, but he'd never be able to do so. It was both restricting and relieving; because he would have killed the man.
Sam shuddered at the thought, aiming his gaze instead to where Benny was pointing. Dean had entered the room, flicking the lights on after he carefully closed the door to what Sam supposed was a bedroom. It seemed to be one of those more luxurious motels their father would sometimes leave them in when he was about to go on a hunt for a few weeks. Sam remembered one time when they'd even rented an actual apartment. Dad left them there for a whole half year, occasionally checking up on them. It had been fun, just him and Dean.
Sam smiled at the thought, a small amount of tension leaving his system.
Dean made his way toward the fridge, reading a note attached to it with a magnet. He looked to be fifteen years old but it was hard to tell with the huge green eyes and the unusually soft expression. His hair was short and spiky. He'd been following dad's orders and cutting it. Sam spared a minute to observe his brother. If dad had thought the short boyish hair would do something to harden Dean's features, he was wrong. It only served to bring out his freckled face and a delicate skin. It stood out, no longer hidden by locks of strayed golden hair. Sam felt sick to be even thinking that but, logically, he could see why Dean attracted the unwanted attention.
"Be back in five weeks. Cash on the table. Call Bobby in case of emergency," Dean read the note. He grabbed the money, counting the bills. His hands moved deftly. "Not enough," he muttered. "Can always count on you dad, huh?"
Benny gazed down over the kid's shoulder, curiosity replaced the fierce emotions. "How'd you live through?"
"I'd say we were fine," Sam mused aloud. "Sure, we were no Rockefellers but I could always afford to buy school books and clothes when I needed them, or go on trips. We never starved or anything, and apart from some really crappy motels, we got by just fine."
"You never had to work?" Benny asked.
"I took a few part-time jobs, but mostly because I wanted to. I saved the earned money for Stanford. It's an expensive school even on scholarship." Sam fondly remembered hiding the hard earned wages. Dean had to have known about it but he'd never said anything, keeping it Sam's secret. He'd been awesome like that. "I knew I wanted to go to that university since I was a kid."
"So you made a living with hustling?" Benny queried incredulously. He didn't believe him and Sam felt a bit irritated.
He shrugged. "Pretty much. Dad always played everyone like a pro and when Dean got older, he got even better. Plus the credit cards, you know. We'd never really had to pay for the motels if we stayed there just for a couple of days."
The bedroom door opened and Sam saw his little version peer out. "Dean?" the child called, getting his brother's attention.
Dean smiled. "Hey, Sammy. What're you doin' up?"
Sammy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat at the dining table, popping his legs up onto the chair and hugging them to his chest. "I woke up and didn't see you." He looked around. "Dad's gone again, isn't he?"
Dean leaned against the kitchen line. "Yeah. I guess it was some kind of "go now or someone pays" situation and he didn't want to wake us up. He'd say goodbye, you know. I think he just had to leave quickly."
"Right."
Dean grimaced.
"How long?" Sammy asked in a tight voice.
"Five weeks."
The room fell into silence. Sam could almost hear his younger self berating dad in his mind. The first days alone without their father had been the longest and toughest. Sam had hated John for leaving them. Before the yellow eyed demon killed Jess, Sam had troubles understanding the true passion of revenge their father must have felt every step he made.
Still.
It was no excuse for abandoning his own sons alone for days, weeks.
"What about money?" Sammy asked suddenly.
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, I need those books for my new classes… and…"
"And?"
"Mrs. Johnson wants to take us on a three-day trip into Washington… I was really looking forward to it. But it's okay if dad didn't leave enough. I don't have to go. I-I mean, he didn't know about the trip, so—"
"Relax," Dean cut the blabbering off, "you can go if you want to. Don't you worry your cute little head about money. Let me handle it."
Sammy brightened considerably. "Really?"
"Really." Dean started rummaging through cupboards. "Now, since you're up, want pancakes?"
"You really have to ask?"
Dean shot him a grin over his shoulder and with that, the memory blackened.
"I need this job. I can do anything you need… taking orders, mopping the floor… I'm good at fixing things."
The insistent, almost begging, voice was the first thing Sam became aware of. What made his stomach clench was the familiarity of the voice. It belonged to his brother.
Sam opened his eyes just as a woman walked right through him. This time, Sam ignored the odd sensations and focused solely on his brother. They were standing in a spacious diner, Dean between them and the counter. He looked the same as in the previous memory, wore the exact clothes. It was in one day these two memories happened.
An elderly woman, whom Dean was speaking to, frowned. "I don't know, sweetie. An extra hand would be helpful, but—shouldn't you be at school anyway?"
Dean's gaze dropped for a millisecond, a sign meaning he was about to lie. "Our class went on a trip around the states. We won it in some competition a month ago and this was the reward."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And how come you stayed here?"
"Nothing for me. I don't like school trips."
The woman sighed. "Alright then. If you fix the coffeemaker," she pointed over her shoulder, "you get yourself a deal. The damn thing just stopped cooperating."
Dean beamed at her and took off in the pointed direction. "You won't regret it," he assured over his shoulder. The woman scoffed but smiled fondly when she turned her back to him.
"Sam, you said you never had to work?" Cas asked. He sounded… accusing. Sam couldn't bring himself to feel anywhere near offended. He was shocked.
"I… yeah, I said that…"
Why would Dean look for a job? He could have asked Bobby for help, hell, he could have yelled at dad to make him get into the thick skull of his that they needed money not only for food, or clothes, or weapons, or whatever. They read. They played. They went to school, for Christ' sake!
At least Sam did, apparently.
Dammit, Dean.
"Hate to break your little fantasy," Benny said, "but the memories so far've been linked. If in one you don't have enough money and in the next, the kid looks for a job instead of playing the schoolboy…" Benny's tone was level but it sounded strained. He was blaming Sam. If Benny barely tolerated him before, he had to resent him now.
Sam shook his head to clear it. He didn't give a damn about the vampire's feelings toward him. Benny set himself on hating him? Fine, because Sam hated Benny more. "You think I'm so stupid that I didn't notice?" he snapped.
The vampire grinned smugly. "Sure you wanna hear the answer?"
Sam had just about enough. He was frustrated by the previous memories. Their dad's selfishness, Dean's inability to ask for a freaking help, Sam's own ignorance. The vampire did nothing to improve his mood. Would it have been physically possible, Sam would gladly rip the monster's head off. How could Dean trust this creature over his own brother? Sure, Sam had caused some of the issues he and Dean had now—starting off with not looking for his brother and running away like a coward, leaving the world behind—but to go and befriend the first monster Dean had come across? Imprudent, reckless, stupid. Making Sam so angry, he saw red. It was Ruby all over and Dean didn't see it.
"Why are you still here?" he demanded, hoping to get the one answer that would prove him right and Dean wrong. That would force his brother to face the reality of Benny's true nature.
The vampire looked at him like he grew a second head. "Because you poke your nose where it don't belong, and sucked me and Feathers in with you?"
Sam took a step closer. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Dean happily dismantling the coffeemaker. He worked purposefully and seemed to know what he was doing. Dean had always been good with cars and machines. "I want to know why you're tailing my brother. I get that you used him as a ride out of Purgatory, and Dean was his stupidly kind self and held onto his promise. That's the way he is. But why are you still here sniffing around? You want the protection of a hunter? Or are you just waiting to stab him in the back? What is it?"
Benny was at him in a second, moving faster than Sam's vision could comprehend. Grabbing him by the collar, Benny snarled into his face. Sam didn't flinch, nor did he take a step back. He wasn't scared of the vampire, and wouldn't be intimidated by him. He yanked at Benny's shirt to gain some leverage.
"I'm here because Dean's my brother," Benny said, grinding his vampire teeth together. "We spent a year in the monsterland watching each other's back and I ain't about to stop now just because it doesn't suit you. I could care less about you," he emphasized, "I won't ever leave Dean till the day someone chops off my freakin' head, so you better stop being a pussy and deal with it like a man."
Sam released Benny's shirt abruptly, breathing hard. The words left him strangely heavy inside. Words like "brother" and "won't ever leave". They confirmed what he'd feared the most besides Benny hurting Dean. It was the fact that Benny was going to stay with them, whether Sam liked it or not. That did that. It finished his last resolve to fight Benny. It would lead nowhere.
Benny was going to stay. Even if Dean refused him, the vampire would hover somewhere near, never leaving him out of sight. Dean was the only one he had on the whole damn planet.
Sam laughed, wishing it was just him and Dean against the world again. He missed those times so much. Why had everything gone to hell?
Benny lifted his cap, which had slid down when Sam had grabbed him. He was wearing the smug grin again, telling Sam he won this round, was perfectly aware of his victory, and enjoyed it.
"What? Did I fry your brain?"
Sam closed his eyes, all energy gone, leaving him empty.
"The memory's changed."
Cas' voice brought him back. Sam looked around. They stood at a fancy suburban house with a white fence and American flag in front of the porch. Dean was the same age, clothed in ratty jeans with holes and a too big t-shirt with long sleeves that hung over his knuckles, leaving only fingertips visible. He knocked on the door, his eyes darting nervously around like he wasn't exactly sure what he's doing here, like he could feel others' eyes on him saying he didn't belong.
Sam's body kept vibrating. This was all beginning to border on what was possibly bearable. The number of emotions he experienced in… For how long were they here anyway? It was too much. Anger was quickly swapped with sorrow, then happiness and love at seeing dad alive, hearing Bobby. It changed into sparks of fear and barely controllable rage that would have him killing a human. And even that didn't last long, morphing into something bitter and empty; a bottomless hole inside Sam's chest.
And it still all seemed like a mere warning, a peace before the storm. And if this was the peace, Sam dreaded the upcoming thunders.
The man who answered the door had a short military cut. He was in his late forties and seemed nice enough. Sam couldn't explain the uneasiness which settled inside his stomach at the sight. It may have been the odd glint in the man's eyes or the lazy grin that settled on his lips when he assessed Dean. It made Sam want to grab his brother and run.
"Hi, uh…" Dean shifted his weight, licked his lips. The man's eyes tracked the motion. "Madame Moor sent me? She owns a diner two blocks south from here, d'you know her? She said her friend needed someone to, uh, take a look at some leaking pipes? Said her husband was away and she didn't want to hire someone she didn't know… well, I guess she doesn't know me either but she knows Madame Moor and Madame Moor knows me, so in a way…"
The man's grin widened. "You gotta be talking about my better half. I came back from a mission sooner than expected. She doesn't know I'm back yet, should have been a surprise."
"Oh," Dean said, "sorry, I didn't know."
"Don't apologize. No one did."
Dean pointed over his shoulder. "I should probably go then, since you're here and can take care of the pipes..."
"It's fine, kid. You do it," the man countered. "I got here a few hours ago so I'm kinda tired. And I wouldn't want to rob you of the filthy money my wife surely offered you. She likes to show people we can afford to spend more. Don't tell anyone."
Dean grinned. "Secret's safe with me. And she really didn't offer me that much money." When the man raised an eyebrow, Dean hurried, "Not that I'm complaining or anything. It's—it's enough, really. I didn't mean to be ungrateful—"
The man laughed. "Calm down, I'm messing with ya."
"Marines do have a weird sense of humor," Dean muttered.
"You know one, kid?"
"My dad was."
"Has to be tough to keep up with him."
Dean shrugged. "Kinda. Most of the time I don't know if what I'm doing is wrong or right."
"And he never tells you."
"No…"
The man opened his door wider to let Dean inside, smiling. "You have a wrench hidden under your clothes?"
Dean chuckled. "I was told there're some tools here I could use."
"Let's go find them then. My wife hopefully didn't try to mess with the garage again."
Sam's hand twitched as the door closed behind Dean's back and the memory dispersed. What happened had been quick and left him with a horrible feeling churning in his gut that was almost painful. Something was terribly wrong with the scene they'd just witnessed, something Sam didn't want to pinpoint.
This man was the first thunder. Sam knew it. He couldn't tell how, but he knew.
Take a little of your time and review! It makes my day and, let's be honest, it makes me write faster xD