CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 4

On some days, mornings come way too soon. I blinked my eyelids a few times before squinting them back closed. The bright lights of the morning peeping through around the curtains, shining into our room. Dean must have finally gotten the restful sleep he needed because I could still hear the soft snores coming from his bed, as he laid bundled under the covers. I couldn't blame him, if it wasn't for the bright sunshine shining on my face I wouldn't be awake either.

I slipped quietly out of the bed and over to the window, carefully pulling the shades closed around the edges where the sun was shining through. Dean needed his sleep and I didn't want the light to wake him. I picked up the notebook he had written in as I made my way back to my bed. I snuggled back under the covers, the morning air feeling a bit chilly, propped myself up on the pillows against the headboard, and began to read.

I read some more pages full of memories from my childhood. I read about how Dean always felt responsible for not only me, but our father too. I read about how he would get "punished" if he wasn't the good little soldier Dad expected him to be. I knew he never had a proper childhood, but reading the words that filled his mind saddened me. I hadn't realized just how grown he had to be. How much responsibility he had to take on.

He wrote about Dad training him. How he would beat on him to "make him tough", he said. I read the words "Good little soldier" more times than I could count. He wrote about a time Dad told him if roles were reversed, if it was him as a baby and not me, that he would have left him there to burn in the fire with Mom. "You're worthless", "You can't do anything right", "Dumb, sorry excuse for a human", "waste of good air", were the words I read, the words Dean wrote, the words Dad had said.

I wanted so bad to just run over to my sleeping brother and hug him, as tight as I could, and never let go until he could see how much he means, not only to me, but to the world, how many people he has saved. I wanted so badly for him to see himself as the hero that I saw. I wiped away the tears as I sat and read how he would care for me, make sure I had everything I ever needed, just to get beaten for it, just to be told how worthless he was.

Dad must not have seen what I see in my brother. I don't understand how he didn't see how awesome his own son was. I heard movement and glanced over to see Dean roll over, changing positions in his sleep, I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but I didn't want to wake him. So, I continued to read the heartbreaking words that were written from the mind of my brother.

"Boy, how many times have I told you to shut up?" "You're worthless, you can't even follow a simple direction." "You need to toughen up, boy, you're weak. No boy of mine is going to be weak! Maybe you should have been a girl? Is that what you want? To be a sissy girl, Deannie?" All the hate that was poured into Dean from a young age, no wonder he kept himself locked up tight.

I was reading about one time he was taking care of me, being the mother he was forced to be, and Dad stumbled into the apartment we were staying at. Dean had tried to make sure everything was clean and orderly. He kept me clean and fed, even if that meant he didn't eat or bathe. He was cooking me supper when Dad had stumbled in. He recalled how Dad just laughed at him for standing at the stove, fixing me food, mac and cheese he thinks it was. Dad started telling him how he was nothing but the woman of the home. His job wasn't to hunt, like a man, it was to be a good little "girl" and stay home, cleaning and cooking.

He made him strip his clothes off, putting on a kitchen apron, he made him wear nothing but the apron for the rest of the day. He recalled how Dad continued to laugh at the girl he had created, how ashamed he felt, how dirty and low he thought he was. He wrote about how he silently cried that night, after putting me to bed, he said that was the first time he had thought about not wanting to live anymore. About how he wished he had burned with Mom the way Dad wanted.

"Sam?"

Dean startled me through the silence. I hadn't realized he woke up, or how many tears were running down my cheeks. I quickly wiped my hand down my face in attempt to dry the tears before I turned to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching me intently, concern on his face. Concern for me, his little brother, concerned that his pain through life was too much for ME. I cleared my face and tried to dry the tears once again, a pointless act since they continued to fall.

"Dean? Um, sorry, I didn't know you were awake." I said, apologizing for the tears I was allowing to fall, for the heartbreak I was feeling.

"No need to apologize" Dean said with concern in his voice. "You okay?"

He continued glancing down at the notebook in my hand and back up at me. I knew he didn't know what part I was reading, but there was no mistaking that it was hurtful. I didn't answer him, how could I? Obviously, my lack of response added to his concern. I closed the notebook. I couldn't read anymore now that Dean was awake.

"Sam, talk to me bro." Dean said, still full of concern. "Sam?" He repeated, as he stood from his bed and sat beside me on mine. He placed a gentle hand on my arm that sat in my lap, holding the closed notebook. "What'cha reading?" he asked.

I reached out with my other arm and wrapped it around my brother's neck, pulling him into a hug. He didn't resist, normally he would resist, unless he knew I really needed it, which, at this moment, I did. He wrapped both his arms around me and held me, while I let myself go, I buried my face in my big brother's shirt and let myself cry, and he let me. Once I regained my composure I tried to apologize again but was stopped before I could finish.

"Are you okay now?" Dean asked, still full of concern. "Look, Sammy, you have nothing to apologize for, okay? It's okay. I know, I lived it, I know." He said with saddened eyes locked onto mine. "I'm sorry" Dean continued. "I didn't mean to upset you, Sammy" he apologized. Dean was apologizing to me for the pain he was forced to endure.

"Dean," I was finally able to speak without tears streaming down my face. "Dad… he was an ass." I said. Not sure what else to say. "I don't understand" I continued. "I thought you loved him?"

"I did, I do." Dean replied without hesitation.

"But how? How could you love someone who treated you like crap?"

"Because, Sammy, he's our Dad."

Like that answer was supposed to make any sense to me. He must have noticed the confusion on my face as he continued.

"You have to understand, Dad may have had his own way of doing things, some good and some not so good, but that doesn't mean he didn't try his best. That doesn't mean he didn't love us. He did. No matter if he knew how to show it or not, he still loved us."

Dean stopped to take notice if he was making any sense, if I was understanding what he was saying. When he noticed that I was understanding he continued.

"I don't know what you read that upset you so much, but I promise you, I made it through stronger. I'm a better person because of the things I was taught. That doesn't mean either of us have to agree with the method that was used, but it served its purpose, it made me who I am today. It made me a better person, a better hunter."

I couldn't disagree with that. He was a pretty awesome person, in my eyes anyhow. I certainly didn't agree with methods that were used.

"Dean," I said in a low voice, "Do you… did you… really wish you would have burned… in the fire… with mom?"

I stumbled the words out of my lips, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. Dean took a moment to answer, I could see the thoughts running through his head, figuring out what he had written, figuring out what I had read. He wiped his hand over his face, I took the moment to help him out with his thoughts.

"You said… you said that Dad wished you had burned in the fire and…" I paused for just a moment to keep myself composed. "And the day, the day that Dad said… he said you were just a girl, not a man… you said you wished you had burnt with mom." I completed, feeling my eyes fill with tears, again.

"Sam, just because I may think something doesn't mean it's true. I know, that doesn't make sense," he continued, trying to clarify himself, "I think a lot of stuff that I don't mean. There have been several times in my life that I've wished I didn't have to live anymore, this moment in my life being no exception."

I couldn't believe he just admitted that. He, obviously, couldn't believe it either, as I could see a moment later the surprise on his face, but that didn't stop him from trying to comfort me, to reassure me that he was fine.

"I couldn't, Sammy, I couldn't leave you like that, especially when we were young." He said, lowering his voice with his thoughts, "I couldn't leave you alone with Dad. I never would have done that to you. It may have been better, for both of you if I did… I don't know, honestly." He paused to take in a long, ragged breath, "But, I had to keep you safe, I had to take care of you. I couldn't trust Dad to do that. Even if he never raised a hand to you, even if you didn't hear the hurtful things I heard, Sammy, I couldn't trust that man to make sure you were taken care of." He completed.

"Dean,"

I said, clearing my throat, not entirely sure what to say. My brother was going through one of his darkest moments in his life, that I have witnessed. And, here he sat concerned about me, making sure I was okay, not giving a thought to himself.

I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, "Dude, you need to shower, you smell funny" I said in a playful tone.

Dean rolled his eyes at me, "Bitch" he said as he stood from my bed.

"Jerk"

He gathered his clothes and made his way into the bathroom. I was thankful for the reassurance he had given me. I was thankful that he brought me back to reality, but, I also needed a moment to myself, to finish gathering my thoughts and composure. A part of me felt guilty, like I was making my brother go back through the pain of his past just to satisfy me. I felt like I was causing him grief he didn't need. Hadn't he already sacrificed enough for me? Now I'm asking for the remaining of his sanity. I didn't even notice the shower water turning off, or my brother coming out of the bathroom. I looked up, and there he stood, staring at me.

"You gonna lay around all day?" he asked.

I shook my head no in reply, but really, I would be okay with just staying in bed.

"Well then, get up princess." Dean joked, "I'm starving let's go get some food" he said as he walked toward me and gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder to get my attention. His way of making me physically move when I didn't feel like moving. I slid out of bed and got dressed. "Hey Sammy?" Dean paused to make sure he had my attention. "You wanna continue down the road or stay here another night?" he asked, making sure I was okay.

"Whatever you wanna do." I answered, I had already put him through enough agony I didn't want to force him into doing anything he didn't want to do.

"Nope. It's all up to you, princess." He smirked as he opened the door to our motel room. "Let's decide over food, I'm starving."

I agreed with that decision as we left the room I had found so much comfort in and headed to the local diner. Once inside we sat in a corner booth. Ordered our food while Dean flirted with the waitress, hoping to get a piece of free pie. I was thankful that my brother was acting more like himself, but as I sat there, in thought, I realized that was just it, he was acting, to protect me, like he always has.

Somehow, he managed to always put on a quirky smile accompanied by some smart-ass remark to make sure he protected me from what he was truly feeling. It hadn't been 48 hours since my brother, the brother that meant the world to me, sat on the bathroom floor with a gun to his head. There was no way he was this happy, this carefree, that quickly. I began to wonder how much pain he buried his whole life. How much he suffered and no one ever knew, not even me. I had learned his reactions to things. I learned how to read him when no one else could, but what was there that I hadn't learned? That I had never seen, never noticed.

"You done?" Dean said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?"

Dean pointed to my half-eaten plate and repeated himself, "You done?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm not that hungry"

"Want a doggie bag? For later?" Dean asked, I'm sure he was just talking to try to keep me focused on the present.

"No, no I think I'm done."

Still feeling a little dazed from my loss of thoughts. Dean paid the pretty waitress, I noticed he had an empty plate in front of him with the remains of pie on it, he must have been able to con his way out of some pie, I chuckled to myself. After he was done with his goodbyes to the waitress we walked out of the diner. I blindly followed, still half lost in thought, I hadn't realized we walked into the local liquor store till we were already inside and Dean was handing me a bottle to hold.

"What are we doing in here?"

I was honestly confused why we would be getting liquor if we were heading back on the road. Then I realized we had never talked about it, never decided if we were staying or going. Dean handed me another bottle to hold before answering me.

"Well," he said, loud enough I could hear him but not so loud that anyone else could hear. "I figure, judging by the way you are acting today, that we need to stay another night, and I'm sure it's going to be a long night full of chick flick moments." he slowly shook his head, like he couldn't believe his life had come down to so many feely moments. He continued, "So, I figured we could both use some of this." He finished as he held up a bottle in reference to what he was talking about. We walked to the counter, he paid the cashier and we headed back to our room.

Once we had walked inside our room I sat on the edge of the bed, still appearing half dazed. Dean cracked open a bottle and handed it to me. I didn't even know what time it was. The diner wasn't very busy when we were there so it must have been either between breakfast and lunch or lunch and supper. It was still light outside so it couldn't have been that late. Didn't matter anyhow. I gladly excepted the bottle of hard liquor as I took a big swig of it. Feeling the burn go down with the liquid. Dean had pulled a chair from the small table in the room and placed it in front of where I sat. He had settled himself in the chair, with his own bottle in his hands, he took his own big swig,

"Okay, Sammy. Talk to me, no bullshit bro, what's going on with you? What's got you bent so out of shape?"

I wasn't sure how to answer him. I took another large drink of what he called liquid courage. Then another drink, it did help a little. But, I still wasn't sure how to speak right now.

"I just…" I paused, "I just need time… to think… okay?" I finally managed to squeeze those words out.

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Then think out loud. Dude, I need to make sure my obnoxious brother is okay. I need to make sure that I"

He paused, taking a big drink before continuing, "that I haven't caused you… I don't know… Sammy, I don't want to upset you, or make you sad, or mad, or anything. Okay? I just… I allowed you to read what I wrote in that stupid book because I thought it would help you in some crazy way. I know how you are. I know you run on feelings and emotional crap. So, I foolishly figured, it would help, that you would be okay with it. Obviously, I was wrong. And for that I apologize."

He paused for another big drink. "Sammy, look at me" my head hung low, looking at the floor, I slowly lifted my head, tears in my eyes and I looked him in the face. "Sammy," he continued as he gently reached his hand out and wiped the tears that dripped from my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Sometimes I screw up. Sometimes I screw up worse than other times. I guess… I guess this is one of those times."

He cradled my chin in his hand after he wiped my tears, he wanted to make sure I continued to look at him, that I heard the words he was saying. With his eyes beginning to water he continued.

"I would take it all back if I could. I don't know what I was thinking. Why I would possibly think that getting into my head would be good for anyone. Hell, I don't even wanna be in my own head most of the time." He let out a slight chuckle to himself as he took another drink to moisten his throat. "I don't know what to say, Sammy, except I'm sorry. But, now, I need you to talk to me. Okay? I need you to really talk to me. I need you to let me inside your head now. Please Sammy."

I pulled my face away from his hand, took an extra-long guzzle and prepared myself for another chick flick, girly, feely melt down.