CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 6

"Dean"

I was barely able to squeak the words out once I had come back to my senses. I quickly knelt beside my brother's lifeless body.

"Dean, hey man, wake up, I'm sorry, okay, I'm so sorry, I need you to wake up."

I repeated a few times as I shook him harder each time. No response. What the hell had I done? I completely lost myself. My brother sat there, calmly, allowing me to let out all the rage I had bottled up inside. Oh God, the things I said to him, and he just sat there, letting me say what I needed to say. He didn't even say anything when I smacked the bottle out of his hands. He never once tried to interrupt me, and this is how I repay him? He was still breathing, still had a pulse, that was a good thing. I grabbed a cloth and pressed it against the gash in his head to stop the bleeding. Still no response. Damn it Dean, wake up, please! No matter what I tried I couldn't get a response from him. Panic had set in. I'm sure it was more so because I hadn't completely regained myself yet. My brother had been knocked unconscious several times. There's no telling how many concussions he's had. As I knelt beside him, taking in the sight, I thought back to the incident he had told me about, about how Dad had hit him, knocking his head against the tub, because he was taking care of me. Regret filled every ounce of my being. I wasn't any better than Dad. I took my rage out on Dean, physically, verbally, when all he was doing was trying to take care of me. After a few more attempts without any response I picked my brother up over my shoulder and carried him to the bed. Laying him gently on his bed, removing his boots, pants, and outer shirt. Leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt, the way he liked to sleep. His head on the pillow, his body covered with the blankets on his bed. I sat beside him, holding the cloth to his head, praying for the bleeding to stop. He had lost so much blood already.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the bleeding had slowed enough from the gash in his head I was able to gather the supplies out of our bags and stitch the gash together. While I was putting the stitches into my brother's head I began to see signs of life, signs of painful stimuli. That was good. Meant he was coming back around. Which scared me a little, how could I face him? I was sure he was going to hate me, not only for knocking him out, but for the words I said as well. After I finished stitching him up and cleaning the wound I stood up, to give him his space, and sat on the edge of my bed, across from him, so I could watch him and make sure he was okay. Did I really ask him if he enjoyed being a girl? Seriously, who asks someone something like that? How did I let my anger get so out of control? I wasn't sure what I hated myself for more, the words I said, or the physical outburst I had. As I sat there thinking I had lowered my head into my hands. My elbows resting on my knees. I was feeling exhausted. The emotional high I had just experienced left me drained. But I couldn't sleep, I couldn't leave Dean's side, not till I knew he was going to be okay.

I was snapped out of my selfish, self-pity, thoughts as I heard Dean began to moan. I was on my feet in a matter of seconds and sitting beside him on the bed. "Dean?" I said in a low, even tone, trying not to let him hear the heartache I was feeling. "Dean, you with me man? I need you to wake up. You hear me?" I sat there for a moment but didn't get a reply. I moved back to the spot my bed, waiting for more signs of life coming from my brother's lifeless body. I had lost myself in my self-pity, again. Resting my head in my hands the same as before.

"You…"

Dean's words snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw the concern on my brother's face. Not the hatred I thought he would have. Not concern for himself, concern for me,

"You feeling better?" HE asked ME!

He was still concerned about my feelings. Even after everything I had done, he was still concerned about me. "Oh my God, Dean," I squeaked out as I stood and made my way, sitting beside him on his bed. "I'm so sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to. God knows I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry." Dean stopped my rambling by placing a trembling finger over my mouth.

"Is that a no?" he said, this time when he spoke I could hear the pain in his voice. The tiredness overwhelming his body.

"Dean," I said, so heartbroken, "man, don't worry about me." That was all I could manage to say. But Dean, my big brother who always looked out for me, wasn't happy with that response.

"The answer is no, Sammy" Dean said.

I was confused, my brows wrinkled up, "huh? What are you talking about?" I asked him.

"No," he continued. "I did not enjoy it."

My God! He was answering my question from earlier! He was still so concerned about me, he didn't even stop to acknowledge his own injuries. I cleared my throat as Dean let out a groan as he pushed himself to a seated position, leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Dean, I didn't mean that. I know you didn't. I'm so sorry." I started to rattle on again but stopped myself. "Please, Dean, just worry about yourself right now, okay? You have a pretty nasty gash on your head" I said as he reached up to feel his head. He gave me a slight smile that I'm sure took a lot of effort to push out

"Well, looks like you already took care of that" he said as he felt the stitches I had closed the gash with.

"Yeah" I said, shameful, it was the least I could do, after all, I was the one who caused it.

"Sammy,"

"yeah?"

"Know what the worst part was?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was talking about the question he had answered or something else. I must have shown my confusion because he clarified himself before he continued, "about Dad telling me I was a girl?"

"No, what?" I replied, I still couldn't believe my tough as nails brother was still willing to talk about this, still trying to make sure I was okay.

"He got lonely, a lot." Dean started, "I mean you know how the hunting life is. It's just you, and your partner if you have one. I was Dad's partner most of the time. So, it was basically just him, and us." He adjusted his body, I'm sure by the twinge on his face he adjusted himself to relieve pain he was feeling. He continued, "at night, not all the time, just sometimes, after you were asleep, sometimes I was already asleep and he had to wake me but sometimes he would catch me before I fell asleep, sometimes before I made it to bed." He stopped for a moment, to clear the lump forming in his throat that came up with the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. "He told me… he… he told me I was better than any girl. He… would tell me to join him, in his bed. I always made sure you were asleep first. Sammy, I did what Dad wanted to make sure he didn't treat you like he treated me. That's why I didn't question him. That's why I never tried to stop him. He, we, never had intercourse, it wasn't like that, and I was too young to get anything out of it. It was all for him, not me, anyhow." He started to stumble over his words. I could tell this was one of the hardest things he had said over the past few days. The hardest thing for him to admit to. "Dad would, umm," he continued "he would usually just make me give him a hand job. I got pretty good at that and it didn't bother me so much, but sometimes…. Sometimes he would… uh… make me… use my… use my mouth. I hated that, Sammy. It would always make me sick to my stomach. I always threw up after. He would gag me, he was usually drunk so he didn't care if I could breathe or not, usually I couldn't, I would take any opportunity to grab a gasp of air. I hated it, Sammy. I did. There was nothing about being 'daddy's little girl' that I enjoyed." The fact that he repeated the words I had said to him during my outburst felt like a knife stabbing me in the heart. "So, the answer to your question is no".

I felt so ashamed at that point, even more than I had before. "I'm sorry Dean, I shouldn't have asked you that. I was angry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I knew you didn't enjoy anything. And, I don't blame you. You didn't have a choice, I know that, Dean, I'm so sorry. And, I'm sorry I took things a little too far. I'm no better than Dad." I said with my head hung low, admitting to him that I was no better than the man I hated just moments before.

"Hey," Dean said, pointing at his head, "you mean this thing? This is nothing, it happens, don't even worry yourself about it." He had closed his eyes during his last few words, pain and tiredness obvious.

"Do you need anything right now?" I asked him, hoping I could help him, even if in a small way.

"I would'a woke up with a headache anyhow" Dean slurred out, referring to all the whiskey he had drunk while I vented my rage.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would have." I added. "I'll get you some ibuprophen, maybe that will help some?" I said as I stood to get him a glass of water and some pills.

He sat, leaned against the headboard, with his eyes closed, his arms were propping him up and were starting to tremble. I walked back over, handing him his water and pills. "You think you're okay to go to sleep?" I asked, concerned about the concussion I was sure he had. After swallowing down the pills he answered me,

"I'm fine, Sammy" his normal response to everything.

"I'm sorry Dean." That was all I could manage to say. Like it was the only thing that mattered. I wanted to make sure he knew I was truly sorry, that I didn't mean to take things so far.

He allowed his shaking arms to give way and, with my help, slid himself back down into a laying position, head on his pillow, I covered him back up, checked the wound on his head and the swelling accompanied by a purple bruise forming on the side of his face where my fist hit. Concern forming with the water filling my eyes. I was mostly concerned my brother was going to hate me. I wouldn't be able to handle it if he did. I had decided I needed to stay awake the rest of the night, just to make sure my brother was okay.

"Go to sleep Sammy" Dean mumbled,

"I'm good"

"I'm fine" Dean mumbled back. Honestly, I was feeling exhausted. Way more emotions hit me today than what I could handle. "Hey Sammy," Dean mumbled again.

"Yeah?"

"If you're just gonna sit there all-night staring at me then why don't you come lay down in this empty spot beside me, that way we can both get some sleep."

Dean's suggestion shocked me. But I was all too happy to do what he suggested, but first, I had to know, I knew he was tired. I knew I had pushed us both past our limits but I needed to know. I got up and made my way to the other side of his bed, bringing my own pillows as he was using his to comfort his aching body. I sat on the bed and made my way under the covers.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you hate me? I would understand if you did, I would deserve it if you did." I stopped as I felt my brother's arm reach out and lay across my stomach, attempting to pull me closer but not having enough strength. I helped him with what he wanted and scooted myself over until we were laying side by side, without a gap between us. He wrapped his arm around me, adjusting himself to a position of comfort, using my body as support and comfort for his.

"Sammy," he finally answered. "I love you man, shit happens, I know that. When I realized how much rage you were holding inside, I made the conscious decision to allow you to release it. I let you say whatever came out of your mouth. Yes, some of it was hard to hear, and some of it I knew deep down you didn't mean. But I chose to allow you to continue without interruption. That was my choice and I need you to understand that. I could have stopped you at any time, but I didn't want to. I wanted you to feel better, to say what you needed to say so you could move on. After you started to yell at me, I expected it. The fact you slapped the drink out of my hand didn't surprise me. After that, I waited, expecting more physical rage to surface. I did not expect to wake up with a large gash in my head, but I was expecting something. I knew it was coming. But, I also knew you needed that release. I don't hate you, there's no way I could possibly hate you. No matter how much of a pain in my ass you are, you will always come first in my book."

He rested his forehead on the side of mine. I could tell it was to help relieve some pain but also an attempt to comfort me. An attempt that worked. I had no words to say. I had said them all already. I tightened my arms around my brother's arms, thankful he was going to be okay. Thankful I had such an amazing, understanding brother. It was only a moment after silence filled the air that it was replaced by the soft snores of my brother, a sound I was all too happy to welcome. It didn't take long after that comforting sound filled my ears that darkness overcome and filled me as I joined my brother in much needed sleep.