None Goes His Way Alone
By Coffeemaniac
Not Slash
A/N: Set in Season 1. After Shadow but before Devil's Trap.
"There is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own." (Edwin Markham)
The Decision
When Dad left again, Sam argued that he stay and Dean defended his decision to go and the three of them parted ways. Once more, Sam was the dissenter in the family, but Dean knew that he thought he was the only one making sense. After Dad pulled away, Sam went inside while Dean watched from the doorway of their hotel room until the taillights of the black truck disappeared. He wished it could be different.
He walked back inside and took off the sling that he'd been wearing for the last two days. His arm protested but he needed to work it back into action.
While Sam looked up with a disapproving frown as Dean tossed the sling on to the bed, he didn't comment. Neither one of them wanted to argue. Besides, Sam had abandoned his ice bucket and heating pad the day before.
Dad had spent the better part of their time together looking for more demon signs in the area. He called his contacts and searched the internet and scanned newspapers. He finally decided the demon activity that he'd been tracking had dispersed. They didn't know whether demons came to town to rescue Sam or if he was just a side note in some other plan. But, they all felt confident that the immediate danger had passed.
Once that was determined, Dean knew his father would leave. And John didn't disappoint. It didn't matter that Dean understood why and supported him in the decision, it was still painful to have him go.
"Now, what?" Sam asked from where he sat at the end of the bed.
"Now, you have to decide what to do about Jacob Moore," Dean answered as he settled across from him.
"Well, I'm not going to kill him."
"I don't want you to kill him."
His cheeks reddening and his eyes narrowing, Sam stood up. "He can't get away with this. What they did to you, I can't let it go."
Dean nodded, holding on to his calm in the face of Sam's anger. "What they did to both of us. And there's a chance he might try again."
"I don't think he'd…"
"He's a grieving parent, Sam. You don't know what he'll do."
Sam sat back down abruptly as if his legs couldn't hold him anymore.
"Jess wouldn't want me to hurt him," he said, softly.
"But, you have to do something."
Sam dug his phone out of his pocket. He held up a finger when Dean started to question who he was calling.
"We need to talk," Sam said then, "That's fine. Some place public is better for both of us." Another pause and then, "Starbuck's on Sand Hill Road. I'll be there at four."
Sam cut off the call. "Okay, I'm meeting him today."
"What are you going to say?"
"I don't know yet."
"Well, you got a couple hours to think about it."
Sam gave a bleak laugh and Dean turned a questioning gaze at him. "What?" He asked.
"I was just thinking that I wish Jess was here to help me with her father."
"Yeah, well, that's kind of the point, isn't it?"
Sam nodded as he stood up. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
"Where you going?"
"Relax, Dean. Just clearing my head."
Sam walked out but Dean didn't relax until he came back an hour later.
The Confrontation
The familiar green logo known by Starbucks fans everywhere stared sightlessly from the glass doorway. Sam always thought the mermaid siren was a bit grim since sirens tended to lure unlucky sailors to their death. He suspected the Starbucks purpose was to lure patrons in to feed their caffeine addiction and feel "hip" doing it.
Dean sat in the driver's seat with both hands fisting the steering wheel while he looked around the parking lot for a trap. As far as they knew, Michael Battle had survived his possession so there was always the chance for a repeat kidnapping. Sam doubted the likelihood but Dean pointed out that they didn't deal with likely, they dealt with unexpected.
A light wind kept the temperature from being too cool. Heavy clouds gave the impression that it was later than mid-afternoon. Sam could smell the ocean mixed with the aroma of coffee and a nearby hamburger stand. It reminded him of sitting on the hood of Jess's car while she leaned against him and he was surprised by the stab of loss.
"I'm going to head in," Sam said.
"We're going to head in," Dean corrected.
"I thought we had this settled."
"Just going to make sure he didn't bring company."
"He's not going to try anything here."
"Sam, if I wanted to kidnap somebody from a public place, do you know what I'd do? I'd stick a gun in your ribs and threaten to kill everybody if you didn't stay quiet. And then I wouldn't take you out the front door, I'd take you out the employee door in the back. So, yeah, I'm going in with you. Deal with it."
Sam slammed the passenger door as he stepped out. He didn't need a babysitter even if Dean was right about the scenario. Sam had already imagined that Battle could be sitting someplace with a sniper rifle, just waiting to pick him off as soon as he was in the open.
He found himself holding his breath as they walked towards the entrance.
Dean pulled open the glass door allowing two pretty coeds to leave. Both were blonde and wearing jeans, one donned a nylon Stanford jacket while the other wore a form-fitting white v-neck. The two women smiled at Dean as they passed him then noticed Sam.
The one wearing the Stanford jacket said, "Wow, two in a row."
Her companion giggled as they walked by.
Sam noticed that after initially acknowledging them, Dean's attention had centered on the inside of the coffee shop. Idly he thought his brother must be really worried if he didn't stop to fully notice the girls.
As Sam caught up, Dean nodded towards the back window where Jacob Moore sat at a free standing table. With a grim expression he wrapped both hands around the drink sitting in front of him. Sam looked around for Michael Battle or anyone who looked more like military than a college student or harried executive. The other six or so people in the restaurant seemed like they belonged.
Dean didn't speak. He pulled out a chair from an empty table and positioned it so he'd be able to watch the front and back entrances as well as Moore.
The older man didn't flinch or look away and all Sam could see was rage on his face. Sam clutched the 9mm in his pocket as he sat down across from him.
"I didn't hurt her," Sam said.
"That's what I've been told." His voice sounded surprisingly calm given his reddened cheeks and narrowed eyes.
Sam cocked his head, not expecting that.
"The man I hired says you didn't murder her. He says a monster, no metaphor, a monster murdered her."
"Yes," Sam said.
"I don't believe in demons."
"It's still the truth."
Moore shook his head. "You may not have burned her alive but you still killed her. You do know that."
Heart pounding, Sam flinched at the fury in his voice and the venom in his words. Sam wanted to get up and walk out. He didn't want to hear anymore.
"Something…something was after you. You opened the door and let it near my child and you left her alone to face it. You knew and you left her alone."
Sam shook his head, denying the accusation as much to Jacob Moore as to himself. "I didn't know."
"Yes, you did. It killed your mother and then you let it kill my daughter. You may not have set the fire or ripped her open but you did kill her."
"I didn't. I wouldn't have left her. " The words sounded weak and meaningless in Sam's ears.
"Don't. Just…don't."
Sam fought the tears burning the back of his eyes. He had dreamt of her death. He had known there were monsters. And he had still left her to die.
Hearing it out loud and seeing the rage on Moore's face intensified the horrendous guilt already pulsing through him and made it unbearable. Moore's whole body shook with anger and Sam's body shook with grief.
"I won't kill you," Moore said. "I won't send anyone else to kill you," His eyes looked like marbles, glassy and hard as he continued. "I can't bring her back and I can't stain her memory with your blood. But, know that you will burn in the deepest pit of hell for what you did to her."
"I loved her," Sam managed to choke out.
Jacob Moore stood. The sudden move jarred the table rattling the napkin dispenser. By the time Sam looked up, Jessica's father was already pushing open the exit door. Outside, on the opposite side, Dean stood waiting.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean had remained quiet, glancing between the doors and the patrons back to Sam and Jacob Moore. The older man blared anger as clearly as if he were screaming. Dean could practically see him vibrating with suppressed fury. But, despite that, it became clear very quickly that he was not there to hurt Sam. Or rather, was not there to injure Sam. He was there to shred him from the inside out.
But, Dean didn't interfere. He allowed the exchange even while he watched Sam shrink into himself at the vengeful accusation. It was agonizing to watch but he owed Sam the respect of letting him deal with it, even if every fiber of Dean's body wanted to wrench the neck of the sanctimonious bastard who was hurting his brother.
When Moore abruptly stood up, Dean thought for just a moment that maybe he had misread the situation. Maybe Moore was going to make a physical attack. But, instead the older man spun away and headed for the exit. Dean rushed out the opposite door and met him on the other side.
Moore didn't recognize him right away but something must have clicked because he straightened his shoulders with an angry glare aimed at Dean.
"You can put that away," Dean said. "Your 'mad face' isn't going to scare me."
"The brother," Moore said with a touch of snide in his voice.
Dean noticed Sam coming out the door so he held up one hand to let him know everything was all right but Sam didn't stop.
"Dean," Sam said.
Dean ignored him. He focused all his attention on Jacob Moore.
"What you said to my brother just now, what you did to both of us ends here. Do you understand me?"
"I already said I wouldn't…"
"Uh uh, no. Not good enough. It ends here. The only reason you're still alive is because of Sam. But, that won't protect you from me. Don't even think about doing something again. Go home and be sad or angry or whatever, but if you ever try to hurt my brother again, I will end you."
"Don't worry. It's over."
"I'm not worried. You're the one that needs to be worried."
"Enough," Sam said. "That's enough, Dean. He understands." He looked at Moore. "Don't you?"
"I do," he answered stiffly.
"You should go," Sam said.
Moore turned away and Dean was satisfied that he was in a hurry to get away from them. They both watched until he climbed into his Bentley Continental and drove away.
"Dean, it was over," Sam said, still staring after the luxury car.
"No, it wasn't. He ripped you apart in there and you let him."
Dean walked away, anger spiking though him.
The Fall-Out
Sam fully expected to have the brewing argument as soon as he slipped into the passenger seat of the Impala. But, Dean turned up the radio instead and headed back to the hotel.
Sam wanted to be as angry at Dean as Dean was at him, but he couldn't find it. Guilt and grief churned relentlessly, overwhelming his effort to push outward. Instead Jacob Moore's words crashed through him, drowning him. And Moore didn't even know about Sam's dreams.
He cleared his throat, fighting the crushing sadness, determined not to let his emotions spill out. 'It killed your mother and then you let it kill my daughter.' Sam turned to face the side window, trying hard to hide his despair.
He had dreamt of her death. He knew what waited in the dark. He knew something horrible had killed his mother even if he hadn't known exactly what it was. And he had still left Jess alone. Back then he didn't know that his dreams were prophetic, he hadn't met Meg yet, hadn't known that his family was targeted. It just never occurred to him that something would come for Jess.
Sam cursed silently. He should have known. He should never have left her. Maybe he should never have started a relationship with her. His breath hitched on the last thought.
Could he have saved her by never loving her? What was he supposed to do with a thought like that?
"Sam? Just stop it." Dean's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Stop what?" He demanded, glaring at his brother.
"You didn't kill her."
"I should have protected her."
"You can't take it on yourself because her father needs someone to blame."
"I dreamed it, Dean. I saw her die before it happened."
"Yeah, Sam, it was a dream. You didn't know it would come true. He doesn't even know that part, right?"
Sam didn't answer immediately as he re-played his brother's words.
More forcefully, Dean said, "Right? You didn't tell him about your dreams, right?"
"No, of course not."
Dean exhaled, clearly relieved. "He's just a sad old man looking for someone to blame. But, it's not you. It isn't."
Sam shook his head. "I didn't save her."
"We can't save everyone and I know that sounds trite but it's still true."
"She's not just some random victim."
"I didn't mean it like that." Sam heard the irritation in Dean's tone and knew he deserved it. Dean was trying to help and that was a cheap shot.
In truth, they had already been through all this. He couldn't have known she was in danger. All he could do was exactly what they were doing; what Jacob Moore had almost stopped them from doing. They needed to find the demon that killed his mother and killed Jess.
"I'm sorry," Sam said.
"Don't worry about it. Let's just get back on the road and start working again."
Sam nodded. It was a good plan.