CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 12

I walked back into the room, Dean was laying in his usual spot on his usual bed. He had his eyes closed and his arm thrown over his face, covering his eyes. He hadn't bother removing his outer clothing or even his boots. I knew he was exhausted. I knew I screwed up and made him emotional. I wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep, so I cleared my throat, announcing that I was in the room, so I wouldn't startle him. I sat on the edge of my bed, facing toward Dean, wondering, if he was asleep, should I wake him to undress and get under the covers? Or just leave him be. While I was thinking Dean pulled his arm off his face and turned to look at me, our eyes locked.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

He crinkled his face with confusion. "For what?"

"For everything," I continued "For being a pain in the ass, for being annoying, for hurting you, for not seeing how much you were hurting, for…"

Dean stopped me before I could finish. "whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop it, Sammy. Just stop it, please. You have nothing to apologize for. You're my little brother, you're supposed to be annoying and a pain in my ass, that's what brothers do. And, you haven't hurt me, Sammy, this" he pointed to the healing gash on his head "was an accident, you didn't mean it, I know you didn't. Like I've said a hundred times, and I'll keep saying it, I allowed you to express yourself, I allowed this to happen."

Pointing again at his head he continued. "I knew what I was doing, I knew what you were doing. Did I expect to be knocked out? No. But I don't believe for one minute that you expected it either. And Sammy, there is no way that I would ever let you see the hurt I have." He paused. He just admitted he had lifelong hurts. "I might…" he started stumbling over his words again, "okay, I've… I've let you in… some… I'll admit to that. I've told you things I never thought would be spoken into the air. But… but I can't, Sammy, I can't… show you everything… I can't let everything out. I just can't."

He paused and closed his eyes for an extra-long blink, then continued. "I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to make you feel like you are responsible for anything that I have allowed to happen in my life."

"Allowed?" I said angrily, "Dean, you haven't allowed anything, it's not like you've had a choice or anything."

"Sammy, please, don't get upset, not right now, okay?"

I nodded my head yes, even though I wanted to, I also remembered what happened the last time I lost my temper. Dean continued in a low, even, calm voice, not letting his emotions out, just simply stating facts.

"I'm in control right now. I've been in control. So yes, allowed. Sammy, I never fought back, not against Dad. I always did what he wanted. I did it, all of it, willingly. I did have a choice. I could have chosen not to appease him and take the chance of him turning on you, but I willingly made the choice to allow pain in my life to keep you safe from it. It was a choice that I made, not you, you didn't have any part in that decision. You are not to be blamed for any of it. I could have just as easily chosen to defy Dad and take the chance of you getting hurt." I was understanding what he was saying, it didn't make it any easier.

"Dean," I said low and quiet. "Will you be honest with me?"

"I have been, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you have, but…" I stopped, maybe I should just leave well enough alone.

"But what, Sammy?"

"Will you be honest and…" I couldn't, I was stuttering on my words, not sure exactly what I was trying to ask. "How much do you hurt?" I finally just blurted out.

Dean's face, crinkled in confusion again. "You're gonna have to be a little clearer."

"Like…" I still wasn't sure how to word the question that I wasn't sure I was asking. "I don't think I could be as strong as you, emotionally. I know you drink, a lot, to numb the pain, to hold back the thoughts, to push it away. So… how much does it really hurt? If you didn't have your drinks… would you be able to…. You know… handle it?" I stopped, not sure if that clarified anything.

"Sam," Dean said slowly, "look at me."

I was looking down at the floor, I couldn't manage to raise my head, or look at my brother. Dean had gotten off his bed and knelt on the floor in front of me, placing his hand under my chin, pulling my face up to meet his. I had tears running down my face, dripping to the floor. I watched as Dean's eyes began to water too, as he fought the tears from falling.

"Sammy," he started, slow, calm, "it hurts" he said. "It hurts a lot." He closed his eyes, pushing back the tears, pushing back the emotions that threatened to show. "There's times," he continued. "That I can't handle the memories. There's times that even the smallest thing will trigger a feeling or a memory. A lot of times that happens during a hunt. It's easier when that's when it happens, it's easier to push it away."

He moved his hand off my chin to wipe it down his face, to dry the tears that dripped from his eyes. I continued to look at him, not dropping my head back down. He rocked himself off his knees and into a seated position, on the floor, leaned against his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His hands holding tight to his pants. He closed his eyes for another moment.

"There's days I don't want to go on." He continued. "There's days even the smallest, most normal things will trigger something." he looked around the room and then continued, "motel rooms, even though we stay in them all the time, they can be the worst. There's times I don't want to stay inside the walls, I have to… it takes everything I have to push back the emotions, the memories…. the pain. Sammy, so much has happened within these exact same four walls. So much has happened inside the small little bathrooms." He paused to even his breath out.

I cleared my throat from the lump blocking my will to breath. "What's the worst thing?" I asked, kicking myself after asking it.

Dean drew his attention to my face, "that's happened in a room like this?" he asked, not completely sure if that's what I meant.

"Yeah."

Without hesitation he said, "The night you left."

"Dean, I'm… I'm sorry." I said as I remembered what he had told me about that night.

"Not your fault, Sammy." he continued, his eyes distant, tears flooding them, the look on his face told me he was remembering every detail of that night. "I trusted him." He said. "I trusted him, no matter what he did to me in the name of 'training' I still trusted him. I… I never fought him, not even that night. Not even when I realized what was going to happen. Not even when I realized he was walking out the door, leaving me to God knows what. I never stopped trusting him. I never stopped believing in him. I never stopped believing him. I… I believed what he said, Sammy, a part of me still does. There's so much that I do in my life and Dad's voice rings loud and clear in my head…. Reminding me… reminding me how worthless I am… and what a screw up… I am…"

He paused again, licking his lips and wiping his wet face, running his hand down, covering his mouth for a moment while he closed his eyes while the tears fell. "It hurts, Sammy, a lot. I get so… tired… of feeling like I do… sometimes… I just want it… to stop… I want my… my head to stop… I want to stop… hearing… him… so much. But I can't, Sammy, I can't. I can't make it stop… it won't go away. There's… there's so much… in my brain… so much… in my chest… won't go away… won't go… away… won't…stop."

"Dean," I had gotten on the floor in front of him, calling his name to stop him from talking. "Dean, calm down. Calm your breathing, okay?" I wrapped my arms around my brother, he returned the gesture, grabbing tightly, fists full of the back of my t-shirt.

"I… I can't… it hurts..." Dean mumbled, his tears soaking my shirt and my tears soaking his.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry." I spoke quietly, "I'm sorry I asked. But, it's going to be alright. Right now, you're safe, it's okay to let it all out, it's okay." I said rubbing circles on his back. The only thing I could do was keep repeating "it's okay" over and over while I held my brother. Dean stopped, he gathered his composure and pushed himself away from me. I was shocked when he continued.

"There's so many little things, I think that's what hurts the most, not the big moments." He stopped to see if I was listening, I was.

"Like what?"

He looked over at the sink that shared the same area as the beds. "Like, one time, maybe a couple times, but one time that I remember clearly. I had already put you to bed. I was, I don't know, 9 maybe? I was getting myself ready for bed. Dad was out getting drunk somewhere. I was standing at the sink."

He nodded his head toward the sink. "Brushing my teeth and Dad came in, drunk like always, I tried to hurry and finish. I had the water running the whole time, which for some reason made him mad as hell. He started bitching at me for it, he put the plug in the sink to prove how much water I was wasting. The sink filled up fast. I had asked him to quiet down, so he didn't wake you, which of course he was not happy about. He… he slammed my head down onto the counter, then he put my face in the sink. He held me under the water."

He paused again, to calm his breathing, before continuing. "I remember the panic I felt. The fear when I couldn't breath and he wasn't releasing his pressure to let me up. The more I fought, trying to get my head above the water, the tighter his grip got. I honestly thought I was going to die that night. When I quit fighting, because I was about to pass out. He pulled my head out of the water and threw me on the floor. Told me to get my ass to bed. I was laying on the floor, scared, gasping for air while I coughed and that son of a bitch told me to get my ass in bed."

Anger became evident in his voice. "I almost drown and he was worried about getting me out of his face. That's what he said. He said he didn't want my ugly, cry baby ass in his face, that he couldn't stand to look at me. So of course, I did what I was told. I laid down beside you and didn't move a muscle the rest of the night."

In a crazy way I enjoyed listening to his stories. It gave me insight into things I didn't know, like learning about people for the first time. But, it also broke my heart, and I know it wasn't easy for Dean. "Dean", seems I've been repeating his name a lot lately, he looked up at me and I continued. "You don't have to talk anymore. Even if I ask you a stupid question, you don't have to answer it, okay? It's okay. I don't want to keep doing this to you."

"Doing what, Sammy?"

"Making you relive some of the worst parts of your life, bringing back the memories and emotions that you've tried so hard to push away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask you anything that would hurt you, but I have, and I keep doing it. So, you can stop answering, if you want to."

I hoped he understood. It's not that I didn't want to listen to what he had to say, or allow him to get it all out so he's not carrying it around anymore, I just didn't want it to bring him pain.

He chuckled a little bit after I finished talking, "it's better than holding a gun to my head I guess." He said while rolling his eyes at himself and wiping his hand down his face to dry any remaining tears.

"Hell, let's do this! Let's just get it all out!" Dean exclaimed. "Why the hell not, huh?" he added, "but first, first my annoying, pain in the ass little brother needs to walk next door and see what kind of booze you can find." He said as he pushed himself off the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. "What'cha waiting for?" he asked me as I stood and sat on my bed.

"Dude," I replied, "I'm in a t-shirt and underwear."

"And? You forgot how to put on pants?" Dean asked sarcastically as he stood and headed for the door, "fine, I'll go myself" he said as the door closed behind him.