Weight of the World
"The sink...We should probably…" Sam tried to twist back to the bathroom he'd just come from. Dean took his hand, lacing their fingers together as a sort of anchor.
"You're that worried about the sink? No, man, there's a power off switch to the water at that end of the house here in the utility closet. And I can put a new sink in there later. These Letters geeks left spares, you know?" Dean reached his free hand into a trap door in the kitchen wall and pulled a marked lever. He stared at his brother in disbelief. Would he really be more concerned about a broken sink than the fact that he was standing here, knees knocking like a new foal, with blood dripping down his chin, neck, shirt collar, jeans, etc?.
Cas leaned against the table, waiting to be addressed. His lips were knit together until they turned white. He looked like he wanted to scream.
Dean took Sam's other hand in his and led him over to the counter and the kitchen sink. Sam frowned, trying not to meet their gazes.
Dean's eyes were like jade knives and grass blades severing softly all the little strands of defenses that were between them. They searched until they found Sam's eyes. He said nothing. That was somehow more disarming than if he'd made a speech. Sam felt his lips trembling again and a piece of glass fell out of them. He hissed and tried to wriggle away from Dean, but Dean pushed him flush to the counter and smoothed his hair away from his face.
He said nothing still as his hands gently unbuttoned the blood-soaked shirt. He plucked at it like someone asking a flower about loves or loves not plucks petals. Then he peeled it away from dried blood, at last, rolling it off Sam's shoulders and dropping it on the floor in a heap of glass and blood.
Sam drew in a breath. Because he was standing half dressed in front of the strongest people in his lives and he felt so weak and helpless. His heart was rolling in him like a baby bird caught in a monsoon and he bowed his head, ashamed.
Dean put his hands over each of Sam's pectorals. Sam's eyes leaked open, noticing the way Dean swallowed as blood dripped between his fingers, blood having soaked and tarred and feathered the little caged bird that was Sam's heart.
When Dean pulled his palms back, his hands had left ghost white prints on Sam's chest. Sam swallowed but Dean leaned around him, pinning him still with his arm. He turned the sink on, let the water grow warm. He pulled a rag out of a drawer and soaked it. He poured a little bit of dish soap in it and then the rag was full of bubbles, floating like whispers like gossip as water would have its perfect work.
Dean was quiet the entire time he washed his brother's chest and neck and face from the scarlet blood. It was how he was keeping himself grounded and sane and Sam knew it. He wondered for a moment if Dean was angry with him. After all, he'd opened up to him the most he ever had in their lives just a few days ago and now?
"Sam…"It was Cas. He'd stooped and gathered up the bloody shirt. Dean bowed his head to Sam's bare chest, displacing soap suds. Sam stared at Dean in amazement. He thought he'd be angry, but he was shaking. A soft groan escaped him and he pressed his shaking palms to Sam's pectorals again. This time he left prints in the remnant soap.
Cas squeezed the shirt and blood drained to the floor. Sam swallowed.
"Sam, how long did it go on before the breaking started? How long were you in trouble before you got help?" Cas swallowed. Sam looked up at him, amazed by the question. And then, he let a soft chirp as he tried to swallow any comebacks that weren't explicitly honest.
"Honestly?" Sam winced when Dean leaned up and took the nape of his neck in a firm but desperate grip that was like a dog lifting a pup by his scruff.
"Yeah! How about honestly?" He swallowed. This conversation happened too many times. Sam sucked his teeth, eyes watering in disgust when he realized his mouth was also filled with blood.
"About 10 years ago. When I let myself be led down the path that ended with me breaking the world and fixing it by jumping into Hell…." Sam shook himself and patted Dean's shoulder.
"Look, guys, I know you're upset and I'm sorry about that. Really, I didn't mean to scare all of you. But I'm dealing with my crap the best way I can. I have to. See, all of these years, I've had to pay for my curse. At first, I thought I was paying it forward with what I did to Lilith but then I realize I was just buying into it. I cashed in my bad bets with Lucifer. I deserved it. This is getting off easy for all that I should have gotten for what I did." Sam smiled and shrugged.
Dean sobbed. Sam looked at him stunned because he was shaking his head wildly. He'd tried to talk and it came out like a dying frog's anthem. A croaking gutted sob of sound that ended with Dean's head resting just where it had been before, hands pressed desperate and weak again to his brother's chest.
Cas was fuming now. Sam turned to him, stunned. It was rare for Cas to get angry over something like that, but when he did it was rough.
"What is wrong with the Winchesters that they run toward death?! Sam! What do you mean you deserve it? What the hell could you mean by saying something so awful?! Did you deserve to be given a demon's blood at 6- months-old and be tricked and manipulated by demons-more powerful beings than you are in case you've forgotten-into fulfilling a destiny you had no say in-because God wrote it that way?!" Cas hands went up and ripped holes in his bloodied dress shirt. Sam stared at him, mortified.
It felt like Dean and Cas had switched roles because Dean leaned up and took Sam's face in gently cupping hands shaking his head at Cas' outburst.
"Hey, now, Cas. Let's go easy on him. He's not really been in his right head all the way for 10 years either, have you, Sammy?" Dean shook his head, hands caressing Sam's cheeks. He swallowed.
"Listen, where do you get these stupid ideas? Huh? When you were doing all that...Demon blood and all that, you thought you were doing the right thing. It turned wrong because the curse was evil not because you were...Enough of that crap already…"Dean's voice was a lot more gentle than his words sounded. It was like he was talking to the infant incarnation of his brother again as if he could make that All Souls Day in 1983 somehow wash away.
Cas drew a breath understanding. He swallowed.
"Sam, I'm sorry that I yelled at you. It's just...It's so frustrating that I am an eternal being and can't help you see the limited set of options you had…"Cas pushed closer. Sam smiled at him even though he was looking into Dean's eyes. Dean smiled back at both of them even though he was looking straight back at Sam.
"What happened back there in the bathroom? You cut yourself up good." Dean shook his head and swallowed. Sam's eyes were filled with terror now. He wasn't aware that he was hyperventilating until Dean had pressed the wet rag to his face and was telling him to breathe.
"I-I um...Lucifer...I was washing Jack's blood offa me and I was pretty messed up about it. And Lucifer-he came to me...In my head, I guess. But to accuse me like he always did back in the Cage. And he looked like he did back in the Cage. His face...It was...His face was his true face. Without any vessel." Sam swallowed. Dean's mouth fell open as he realized that of course, Sam would know what Lucifer truly looked like. Cas shuddered.
"His true face is hideous, Sam. He hides it even from angels. I've not seen it since his fall, even when he possessed me too." Cas' hand went to his stomach, mortified.
"Be glad. He's uglier than they say. And he...He said that he'd make me pay in the Biblical sense for what I did to Jack letting him die."Sam frowned.
"What? Biblical sense...He meant like? SON OF A BITCH!" Dean's shout was muffled by his hand. Sam shook his head.
"He never got to, Dean. His real vessel is junkless, remember? Kelly Kline was his first time. But I guess my mind wasn't clear on all those details. He was talking some jailhouse stuff and I guess, right then, I was trying to fight him to keep him from doing that to me. I swear I didn't get cut up on purpose. The mirror, the sink, it was me wailing on Lucifer as far as I knew…"Sam cringed. Dean had broken out into a cold sweat.
"That bastard...He never 'got to'? But he threatened you with that more than once, didn't he? Like...When he had his vessel and we were stuck with him. Did he ever try...?" Dean cringed. Sam shook his head.
"Oh, no. You mean like when we were alone on the way back to Apocalypse camp? He talked about it, but I told him that Jack would be more than a little bit afraid of him if he did something that weird to me…"Sam trailed away. Dean looked at Cas, face wine stained in anger. Cas let out a shaky breath.
"Sam...How many times were you going to allow Lucifer to threaten you like that before you told us? I-I pressured you into working with him again." Cas cursed himself, hand going to his mouth now.
Sam's jaw dropped.
"You wanted honesty, so I'm not changing my story. I wasn't going to tell either one of you. Not a damn thing. Because I thought Lucifer and all his campaign to turn me into him was what I deserved for letting him free, accident or not." Sam swallowed.
"Deserved….What the hell, Sam? Deserved...That royal bastard's lucky I didn't pull him apart with my teeth for even blinking at you with them kind of eyes." Dean's hands went to Sam's shoulders, protectively admiring the exposed part of his brother's body by feel. He looked up then and breathed softly.
"You...Let me wash this away. Your back...You got it on your back too, Sammy." Dean pulled Sam closer, turned him around, and turned the sink back on. He lifted another rag, the one he had been using now soaked with blood, and proceeded to wash Sam's shoulders of the blood and broken pieces he'd rolled in. Cas, in turn, sat down at the table and laid his face in Sam's bloody shirt. He babbled then in Enochian, reverting to his native language as a result of his deep upset.
Dean frowned. He went to the fridge and pulled out several beers, pushing one to Cas' hand. He bent over his friend, leaning to look into his eyes and make sure he was alright. Sam watched from the sink, worried about so many things, mostly what he'd done to them now that they needed him to be strong the most. Dean ran his hand through Cas' hair smiling at him where he lay, not attempting to pry the bloody shirt from his clinging fingers. He didn't pull his hand away from Cas' hair until Cas smiled at him and he knew he was fine.
He came back to Sam and turned him around.
"I...I'm…"
"Don't you say you're sorry. Don't…."Dean leaned into Sam, pressing his lips near his ear as he talked to him.
"I don't ever want you to apologize for this again. No matter how weird or bloody the breaks in your head get. It's Lucifer's fault and it always was. As for Lucifer, he's dead. It's a done deal. Let's just get you better now…You and the kid…"Dean's voice trailed away. Sam allowed himself to feel Dean's steady shape encompass him. He'd been terrified before but Dean's warmth was like a safety blanket treating him for the shock inside him.
He realized in a flash flood of tears inside his head that never came free from his eyes. He'd been trusting in the steady frame of Dean's near and protective shape as long as his curse had gripped him. From the nursery fire where his curse began and straight up from the Hellfire where it had been purged, Dean had carried him. Sam may have beat the Devil, but it was Dean who carried the weight of the world. If not for that, they'd not have saved it.