Crossing destinies Chapter 10: Free, a supernatural fanfic

First of all, I would like to thank you, Book Genius, your review touched me a lot.

It's a reward for an author to read this kind of words….So thank you

Thank you to all of you to take of little bit of your time to read this fic, never forget that behind the words, there is a reality….

Happy New year…

CHAPTER 10: FREE

He pulled his car to the side of the road and stayed here sitting for a few minutes, just watching the horizon. Mary's words were resonating endlessly in his head. The weight he's always felt on his shoulder was started to go away.

"Sam…"

He put his forehead on his hands still hung to the wheel and cried. He cried as he never did before, or at least not since St James Hospital called him to tell him his brother ended his own life. His throat was cut and bleeding deeply, he cut his veins with one precise move. His blood was mixed with water as the nurse found him sitting in the shower. No one would know where he found that piece of glass but who cares? It was too late anyway.

Dean took his car and he drove very fast to go to his brother. He wasn't even watching the road he was just driving with his instinct, like it wouldn't matter if he had an accident and died. Retrospectively he would've wished a truck hit his car, so he would lose the control of it and die… be free… and be with him again.

He parked the car and for a long time he hesitated in front of the gate. The guard walked toward him as he recognized him. Seeing Dean's pale face and his lost look, he knew. It was almost midnight, only death could make someone come so late in St James.

The guard smiled when he opened the gate, with this sorry look on his face which made Dean wanting to punch him. He was feeling angry more than sad. He was persuaded this hospital was a place to die for his brother, he was certain he would have been cured if he could've been transferred in another place, because it was Sam… it was his brother… Because he couldn't have leave him alone just like that without an explanation, without giving him the reason of all this madness… because he couldn't have chosen death instead of him.

Doctor Verlinghen approached with a casual face.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Where is he?" he replied quickly.

"We brought him to the morgue after I pronounced time of death. We're waiting for the coroner."

Dean tensed: death… morgue… coroner… it should've been just a nightmare.

"I want to see him."

"Mr. Winchester… you should wait after the coroner…"

"NOW!" he interrupted.

"Alright… but I must warn you…"

Dean lifted his hand to show him he wanted him to stop talking.

"Please."

"As you wish…"

During all the way to the morgue Dean remembered his two visits a week, the empty look on Sam's face, knocked out because of medication and madness.

At first he came every day but Sam wasn't making any progress and seeing him like that was making him crazy too, and he had to stay strong for both of them. He couldn't do it with a sick face on him. He had to work too so he came less, and frankly if it was only to see a Ghost Sam it wasn't worth it.

It became another ritual, twice a week, but did Sam and his empty look his scary smile notice he was here? Did he listen to his voice? Doctors said yes but Dean always doubted.

But he had to be here in this body right? After all it was Sam who tried to hang himself twice, Sam who tried to stab himself once… Sam who wanted to die. Not this quiet and lifeless human being sitting in front of him every Mondays and Thursdays.

Dean was mad at him for not trying to fight harder and to let go. He hated himself for wishing it would end. Why couldn't he just be here and be a brother like he always was?

They stopped in front of the morgue's door. Dr Verlinghen searched for the right key because at this time nobody was here to open. They entered, he turned on the light and Dean saw him… his long body on that morbid table, with his feet showing beyond the white sheet. Dean rubbed his face and stayed away.

"I'll leave you two alone. I'll be in the hallway if you need me."

Dean didn't answer. He walked toward the table while Dr Verlinghen went out.

He needed to look under the sheet… he had to be sure. He knew already because when he touched his fingers showing from under it, it was cold. He held his fingers in his hand and he remembered when they were coming back from school, hand in hand. He remembered holding them when they were facing their father's anger too.

He lifted his dead hand and his forearm showed. He took it in his hands too… he was so cold!

Then he finally pulled the sheet down, revealing his face... his long brown hair, his large forehead, his eyes closed, his white lips… just him. Dean pulled his head back and looked at the ceiling. Sam… his Sam! He started to cry without looking at him, and after a few seconds his eyes fell on his face again… he looked so peaceful. He pulled a hair lock away from his forehead and caressed his cold cheek… death.

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered between his sobs.

"You son of a bitch, you did it… you let go… you left me. What am I going to do without you? Why Sammy? Why didn't you just say something to me? Why did you leave without me?"

He tried to make him sit down and he succeeded painfully, then he held him in his arms swaying. The nurses had put bandages around his neck to hide the wound, like a scar on the end he chose and hoped for so long.

There are people who have the strength to survive.

There are people who have the strength to die.

Sam knew the day he lifted his hand to hit his girlfriend… he felt the rage inside him and he knew he would become just like his father, he knew he wouldn't have Dean's strength to fight it. Of course he didn't tell him and he hid the reason why he broke up with Jessica. Luckily for him Dean didn't want to know, he just wanted his brother to be happy, he was literally living for him. Sam wanted to tell him about the monster rising inside him but he knew he wouldn't understand.

How can you live pain and abuse and do it yourself right after?

This was why Sam was drowning, this is what caused his perdition.

He really wanted to tell Dean, but he knew he wouldn't even want to hear it, he wouldn't admit his little brother could be the same as the monster who destroyed their lives. So he found a new strength: the strength to stop it before it's too late, to free his brother and himself at the same time.

When his decision was made once for all he found peace, and when life left his body, something inside him felt like Dean would find the courage to go on and someone to help him. He was not dying for nothing, he was dying for them.

Dean left the morgue with a very pale face and red puffy eyes.

Three days later he put the funeral urn in the cemetery and never came back.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean got out of his car and went to the open the trunk. He took a deep breath and took the little iron case in it. He put it on the hood and turned the key to open it… the key to his past… their past.

There was a picture, one of the only pictures of him and Sam together, a school portrait. Sam was about 7 and Dean was 9… his look was already empty.

Mrs. Nora let him choose one in the library and he took "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde without an hesitation. Dean read this kid story to Sam though it was sad.

He closed the case, it was all he had left from his brother. This and a picture of him when he was 16 that he stuck in the back of the view mirror inside his car. Sam was smiling in the picture and when he thought about it, he had to admit he haven't seen him smile that much. He was smiling less and less as he grew up. Actually Dean was growing up pushing his father's influence away, but Sam grew up being more and more the prisoner of it. Did he hate himself so much to let the monster win?

He knew that if Sam hadn't fall earlier it was only for him, but after he lost his courage and his strength he just couldn't do it anymore, so he let himself fall in the darkness of his soul and let Dean's hand go away with a smile… he was free now.

St Gerry Hall happened and the brick wall Dean built inside his head finally started to fall bit by bit, just because of one broken man. Dean felt a bit better and he realized maybe it wasn't his fault, Sam made his choice a long time ago. The only guilty persons were and would forever be their parents.

Maybe the people keeping their eyes shut around their distress were a bit guilty too… Their eyes were full of pity for them but they never moved to help them when they knew.

Sam probably felt like they all gave up on them and he had only Dean's hand to hold on to.

When he drove back to St Gerry it was night.

When he closed the door of his room behind him that night, he felt his heart empty and his soul heavy. He wanted nothing, he had no strength and no tears left. This epiphany drained him and at that moment he felt really lonely. He couldn't even hold on to his brother's memory anymore.

Mary was right: he was loving life but he just felt there was no reciprocity.

He took a very long shower and tried to wipe out the image of Sam with his throat cut under the water. He managed to do it and replaced it by Sam sitting next to him on his bed and listening to him singing or telling stories. The image of burnt innocence… and broken destinies.

When he got out of the shower he stayed a moment in front of the mirror completely naked. He wiped the steam and looked… placing his fingers on his scars. The one on his collar bone graved in his flesh was here because his father pushed him against the glass closet. He was holding him by the collar of his shirt and when he wanted to bring him back to him, a piece of glass cut his collar bone leaving a deep and long scar.

The scar under his belly button appeared when the wood stick broke on him and one of the parts got stuck in his stomach.

Each scar reminded him of this past he couldn't forget, he didn't want to forget either, it was a part of his life, a part of himself, of who he was today and who he would be in the future. They were him, Dean.

He turned around, still in front of the mirror, and saw the scars left by the belt of his dad on his back.

Then he turned, put his hands on the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. Suddenly the green of his eyes melted with the blue of Castiel's ones and he knew behind this look he was screaming for help. Behind this look he was saying everything he could.

Dean slid against the bathroom's door and fell asleep just like that.

He jumped when he heard a voice calling him.

"Dean? Are you here? It's Melvin!" he called and knocked on the door.

He probably wanted his computer back.

CHAPTER 10: FREE

"Sam…"

Doctor Verlinghen approached with a casual face.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Where is he?" he replied quickly.

"We brought him to the morgue after I pronounced time of death. We're waiting for the coroner."

Dean tensed: death… morgue… coroner… it should've been just a nightmare.

"I want to see him."

"Mr. Winchester… you should wait after the coroner…"

"NOW!" he interrupted.

"Alright… but I must warn you…"

Dean lifted his hand to show him he wanted him to stop talking.

"Please."

"As you wish…"

During all the way to the morgue Dean remembered his two visits a week, the empty look on Sam's face, knocked out because of medication and madness.

It became another ritual, twice a week, but did Sam and his empty look his scary smile notice he was here? Did he listen to his voice? Doctors said yes but Dean always doubted.

Dean was mad at him for not trying to fight harder and to let go. He hated himself for wishing it would end. Why couldn't he just be here and be a brother like he always was?

"I'll leave you two alone. I'll be in the hallway if you need me."

Dean didn't answer. He walked toward the table while Dr Verlinghen went out.

He lifted his dead hand and his forearm showed. He took it in his hands too… he was so cold!

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered between his sobs.

"You son of a bitch, you did it… you let go… you left me. What am I going to do without you? Why Sammy? Why didn't you just say something to me? Why did you leave without me?"

There are people who have the strength to survive.

There are people who have the strength to die.

How can you live pain and abuse and do it yourself right after?

This was why Sam was drowning, this is what caused his perdition.

Dean left the morgue with a very pale face and red puffy eyes.

Three days later he put the funeral urn in the cemetery and never came back.

There was a picture, one of the only pictures of him and Sam together, a school portrait. Sam was about 7 and Dean was 9… his look was already empty.

He searched in all the stuffs, stuffs which probably would have no importance for anyone but were like gold to him… there was the little Darth Vader and some marbles Mr. Gardini gave them, a dollar coin, a used play cards game, his degree, and a book. Mrs. Nora let him choose one in the library and he took "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde without an hesitation. Dean read this kid story to Sam though it was sad.

Maybe the people keeping their eyes shut around their distress were a bit guilty too… Their eyes were full of pity for them but they never moved to help them when they knew.

Sam probably felt like they all gave up on them and he had only Dean's hand to hold on to.

When he drove back to St Gerry it was night.

Mary was right: he was loving life but he just felt there was no reciprocity.

The scar under his belly button appeared when the wood stick broke on him and one of the parts got stuck in his stomach.

He turned around, still in front of the mirror, and saw the scars left by the belt of his dad on his back.

Dean slid against the bathroom's door and fell asleep just like that.

He jumped when he heard a voice calling him.

"Dean? Are you here? It's Melvin!" he called and knocked on the door.

He probably wanted his computer back.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He heard something fell on the floor while she was beating and yelling at him.

She came in the attic, furious, her face distorted by anger. He didn't know why but he figured it was his fault. What did he do? He didn't even see her since the day before when she curled up against him.

He never knew that beating was due to her own disgust, she just hated herself because she fell for his evil body. For her, he would forever be a sick soul she had to save from evil by any way. Of course she failed one more time.

She was always saying he had the blue eyes of a God, but the devil took possession of his flesh and she had to get him away. Her madness had no limits and if his eyes weren't so blue and beautiful she probably would've killed him already.

He was often close to the gates of hell, so close that if he closed his eyes and concentrate he could hear Cerberus screaming. She told him it was just the devil calling for him, and that's how the neighbor's dog became his worst nightmare.

When she stopped beating he dared extending his arm, reaching the tiny book that fell on the floor. She always had this around her neck.

When she came back on the evening the expression on her face was very cold. She searched for something on the floor holding her neck in her hand. She stared at him with an angry look but he stayed quiet and didn't move. After all those years, he learnt he just needed his eyes to talk. He wasn't talking and wasn't making any sound except when he was in unbearable pain or when she was stealing pleasure from his body.

At first she was furious because he wasn't talking. Sometimes when he was sleeping she could hear him babbling some words but even those ones disappeared after a while. He was just talking in his head… he was just living in his head. The outside world became nothing to him.

Standing on the tower that became his soul, he was observing himself like you observe a stranger. He separated his body and his soul.

She finally stood up and left, so he pulled his pillow up and touched the leather front cover of the book hidden under it, and suddenly the trapdoor opened again.

"I knew it!"

She almost ran on him and he quickly curled up against the wall hiding his face with his arms. She caught the book and put it on her chest.

"I forbid you to lay a hand on this book! You heard me you little piece of garbage?"

She didn't hit him, she just left without a word. He stayed in his position for a while and he looked at his pillow.

She came back a few minutes later holding the wood stick she loved so much. He looked up, she was making it bounce on her hand. God's punishment… she was whispering Old Testament's verses between her teeth.

It probably was her worst fit of anger, she was literally in a blind rage. She beat him up so long and so hard the wood stick broke, ripping half of his back skin. He passed out but even unconscious she was still hitting so hard blood splashed on her face and her dress.

Before passing out he heard her talking to God, asking for forgiveness and singing what sounded like an exorcism.

He only woke up the next morning unable to move, taste of blood in his mouth. He looked up at the shelf… Books…The only freedom he had. He was now completely locked.

She came back around midday and took care of him without a word and without caring about the fact he was hurting so bad he was moaning his pain out.

That torture night locked his attic forever. He became lifeless and she only found him lost in his silence with his empty eyes. He was staying in the same position all day, crouched down, curled up on his bed or leaning against the wall to stare at the skylight. He was moving only to go to the bathroom and to eat because she was forcing him to. He was washing himself only when she threatened him.

She had what she wanted: a puppet she could play with when she wanted. It took years but she finally did it: she completely broke him. The church book event was the end of his resistance and the beginning of her freedom. But he would not look at her again… ever. He would never let her sink into his blue eyes again.

As a result she stayed less and less with him and when she was here she was with someone else. She was not talking to him anymore and she was feeding him just because she needed him to survive, because God wanted to, but her toy lost its interest and so did her life.

She was going to church every day before this event, and after that she was going only on Sunday. She locked in her loneliness step by step too, she wasn't cleaning her house anymore, she wasn't taking care of herself anymore, and people even avoided her because her madness appeared on her face. She had scary eyes rolling when she was drowned in her mystic delirium.

Her death made no one cry, but the Attic Boy would forever make some people ashamed of themselves.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He looked at the book in the reflection of the window for hours. The door opened and Missouri appeared with a plate in her hands.

When she took the book after putting the plate on the table she saw Castiel shivering. She smiled and put it back.

"You come to eat, Castiel?"

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean didn't go to the refectory too early this morning, he wanted to avoid Mary. Not that he was mad at her but he just didn't want to talk about Sam or about himself… or about Castiel.

He dreamt about him last night: he saw him crouched down and when the floor suddenly opened under his feet he held him by his hand. He saw a smile on his face before he let his hand go, and Sam's face replaced Castiel's… and then he woke up in sweat.

He was thinking about that when he felt her presence.

"Good morning Missouri."

"Good morning Dean. May I?" she asked nodding at the sit in front of him.

Dean said nothing and she took that as a "yes".

"How are you doing? We haven't talked in a while."

"Probably because I have nothing to say." He said drinking his coffee.

"You're in a very good mood as I can see!" she laughed.

"I'm sorry." Dean sighed.

He was glancing at her while buttering his toast.

"Ok what?" he finally asked.

"The book in Castiel's room… is that you?"

He frowned.

"Why birds?" she asked.

"Why not?" he replied.

"More and more charming…" she wasn't laughing anymore.

She put her toast in her hot chocolate and stayed quiet.

"And?" Dean asked.

"And what?"

Dean sighed deeply "Missouri…"

"Well there's nothing to add." She said and saw disappointment on his face.

"I should've known it." Dean said.

"Know what, Dean?"

"Nothing. It won't matter anymore anyway."

He finished his coffee.

"Next Monday I'll be back in the West quarter and in six months I'll be gone."

Melvin entered and waved at him so he waved back.

"You're not very convincing, darling." Missouri said.

He pushed his plate away.

"I have nothing to offer to him. He's nuts and I probably am as much as he is. It won't bring anything good and Mary…" he paused.

"What about Mary?" Missouri frowned.

"I asked her if I could stay working in the East quarter for the next six months but she said no. She's afraid of what could happen after my job here is over"

He stood up. Missouri looked at him.

"She's right… I don't even know what my life will be tomorrow so in six months…" he took his plate "and I don't need this now. He probably doesn't either."

"You don't need what, Dean? Getting attached to him? You will sooner or later you know, if it's not with Castiel it will be with someone else, but human being is not made to be alone."

"I am."

"Oh right and you look so happy about it!" she joked.

"I can't complain."

"But people around you can for sure!"

He looked vexed and stepped away.

"Bye!"

Missouri looked at him leaving and looked at the clock: 7:35 am. She stood up and left leaving her plate on the table.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean was nervous thinking he would have to deal with Castiel. He knew tomorrow it would be over and he already knew he would miss it. And he knew he would also miss those damn blue eyes haunting him.

He cleaned each room like a robot, he even forgot to greet the few patients he met. He didn't want to talk or to sing. Then he cleaned the day room feeling Garth's look on him. When he was over and wanted to leave, he called him.

"Hi, Dean!"

"Hi."

"Armand gave you the planning?"

"Yeah, thank you." He said trying to step away, but Garth was blocking the way.

"What are you doing? I have no time to play! I still have work to do."

"I was in charge of breakfasts this morning."

"Right. Good for you."

He tried to leave again because he knew where Garth wanted to go with this.

"He stared at it, but it looks like he's scared to touch it."

"Garth…" Dean sighed.

Garth stepped away letting Dean free to go.

"Thank you." He said opening the door.

"I think you're the one who has to do the first move!"

Dean didn't answer, closed the door and left.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He hesitated in front of room 14 and finally looked inside.

"A real statue." He said typing the code.

He felt nervousness growing when he stepped in.

"Hi, Cas." He tried to sound as casual as he could.

He saw him reacting and went to the bathroom to avoid him. He glanced at the table and saw the book on it.

He felt his silent call again, as he was cleaning the bathroom, and he finally turned around seeing he was here looking at him. He was just here observing Dean cleaning the room. There was no distress, no pain and no fear, just something they shared, and Dean couldn't help but smiled.

"You don't look so bad today." He said standing up.

Castiel stepped back a little but didn't break the eyes connection.

"You don't like my gift?" Dean asked looking at the table.

He noticed Castiel's body tensing but he was still looking at him. Dean pushed his cart to the room, Castiel stepped back and went to his precious window but he was still facing him, observing every move he made which made Dean feel uncomfortable. He thought he preferred when Castiel wasn't staring at him like that.

He cleaned the floor and when he was done Castiel was back in his usual position near the window. It was almost a relief.

"Dude you really don't know what you want" he shrugged.

He took his cleaning spray, his rag, he walked to the table and then, without knowing exactly why, he sat down and took the book. He saw Castiel moving, he was observing him in the window's reflection.

"Come here." Dean said showing the chair.

Castiel didn't move. Dean made himself comfortable in front of that empty chair.

"Cas, please… come and sit down on the chair. Come on…" he insisted in a soft voice.

He knew Castiel was hesitant he met his eyes on the reflection.

"I'm still here today and I will be here tomorrow… and then I won't be able to come anymore. You understand what it means right?"

Castiel turned a bit.

"It's just a book dude… nothing more. It won't eat you." He said begging him with his eyes "come here and sit down."

He finally accepted the offer and sat down on the chair facing Dean, but of course he was looking at the window.

Dean put the book on the table.

"It's for you. Open it."

Dean insisted sliding it near Castiel who was still not moving or looking.

Dean lost his patience and tried the impossible: he extended his hand very slowly and placed a finger under his chin. Castiel jumped and turned quickly looking at Dean with his eyes full of terror, and he gripped his pants.

Dean didn't want to give up even if it was hard, he didn't move his finger away and lifted his head a little. He smiled at him and tried to reassure him when he felt he was sinking in his chair ready to run away.

"Calm down Cas… it's just me."

He didn't know how much time they stayed like that looking at each other but he didn't care, he just wanted Castiel to react. Slowly he felt him getting more relaxed and the terror in his eyes turned into suspicion only.

Dean took the book and held it out to Castiel.

"This book is for you, Cas. I thought about it when I saw your drawings on the wall… there." He confessed and looked down a few seconds.

"Humor me… take it."

He only read confusion in his eyes.

"Take it."

His patience was tested here: Castiel didn't want to move, but it was already a big step he just did, accepting this close contact with Dean who started to wonder if he didn't ask too much from him. Too much and too fast maybe… but he had so little time!

"Ok…" he said disappointed.

He put the book in front of Castiel and stood up. Castiel was still frozen in his chair.

Dean walked away and put his spray and his rag in the cart.

"I'll try to stay longer tomorrow of you want…"

He heard the noise of the chair moving and froze. When he found the courage, he turned around and saw Castiel was standing at the window and the book was still on the table.

Dean sighed.

"As you wish…" he said going to the door.

He walked out of the room and didn't look back.

Tomorrow would be their last day.

End of chapter 10