—SNS—SNS—CHAPTER 5—SNS—SNS—
Sam woke up slowly, confused again as to where he was, feeling achy from being contorted in a weird position. He remained still, however, savoring the memory of his brother being with him and wishing desperately it had been more than a dream.
"It was real, dumbass. I am here." That made his eyes fling open and he sat up suddenly to stare at Dean, who was laughing at him from the driver's side of the car. "I'm starving, can we go grab some grub?" Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sam just stared at Dean as he waited for him to get his bearings. Finally he climbed out of the car and followed Dean into the diner they were parked outside of.
"Where are we?" he asked as they slid into a booth, more to make conversation than because he cared. He had stopped caring about where he was months ago, and now with Dean here, that was the only thing that actually mattered.
"Dunno, somewhere in Iowa maybe?" Sam nodded, trying no to stare. If Dean's slight smirk was any indication, he wasn't doing a great job of it. A waitress approached the table and Dean ordered a loaded burger and fries, then turned expectant eyes on Sam, only to frown when he ordered a bowl of broth soup. Sam caught his look of disapproval and shrugged.
"You have to eat more than that Sam."
"I have no appetite." he replied, "haven't since… Anyway, at this point, anything heavier probably wouldn't stay down." Dean conceded the argument with a look that clearly stated they were not done with the conversation. Sam sighed, knowing that it was a temporary reprieve.
The reprieve lasted until they arrived back at Rufus' cabin two days later. They had kept to easy topics of conversation, Sam sleeping a lot of the drive while Dean indulged in all his favorite music. Sam had started eating a little more, which was encouraging. Entering the cabin, Dean watched Sam closely as he paused just inside the door, memories of the months alone desperately searching for answers bombarding him. Even as he watched, he saw him straighten his shoulders, and then head for the piles of books that were strewn everywhere, barely setting his duffel down before he started gathering them to reorganize them back on the bookshelves. He worked feverishly into the night to clean and organize the cabin and Dean stayed out of his way, figuring he needed this to work through whatever was going on in his head. Finally, though, as the evening got later and later, Dean had enough. Grabbing a couple beers from the fridge, he caught Sam's arm as he headed toward yet another stack of manuscripts and halted him.
"Stop, man. Just stop. Sit." Handing him a beer, he nearly pushed him down onto the couch, and then settled down beside him. Sam sat, fiddling with the label on the beer, looking up to stare in the fire, but not looking at his brother. Dean stared at his profile, wondering how best to get him to spill. He knew Sam better than anyone, and knew that if he didn't talk things through he would not be able to move forward. And too, Dean was genuinely curious and concerned as to what had brought Sam to the state he had found him in. "Sam."
"Yeah." Sam replied without looking at him. When nothing else was said he finally looked over and read clearly the question Dean was waiting for him to answer. Sighing, he wrestled with what to say. Originally, so relieved to have his brother back, he had intended to just let the past year be just that - the past - but apparently it wasn't letting go that easily. Plus Dean probably did have a right to know… Another sigh, and then he began softly, "When you disappeared…" Memories flashed through his mind and the remembered feeling of horror at the knowledge of how completely alone he was paralyzed his body, but a warm hand on his knee brought his eyes back to Dean's. Drawing strength from that gaze, he swallowed and began again.
"When you and Cas disappeared, Crowley took Kevin and Meg, and his demons killed the remaining Leviathans. So I was all alone. Completely alone, Dean, in a way I have never been in my entire life." He paused, swallowing again and trying to slow his breathing which had automatically sped up. "Bobby, dead and gone. You and Cas, also dead for all I knew. Everyone…" He got up and started pacing, trying to burn off the emotions swarming him. "I didn't know what to do, or where to start. I spent months researching, chasing down dead ends. I tried Crowley, I tried a psychic…" He trailed off, running his fingers through his hair, frustrated with how emotional he felt still.
Dean sat still, hurting for what Sam had gone through, picturing his desperation in trying to find answers. Then he was reminded of a puzzling question. "How did you find out I was in purgatory?"
"You told me."
"I'm sorry, what?" Of all the answers Sam could have given, that was the most unexpected. He stared at him, even as he dropped back down to the couch and took a deep swig of beer.
"I dreamed…except it was not really a dream…and I was you. Or in you. Something. You were fighting monsters, and after they were killed, you talked to me…well, to yourself. You mentioned you were glad I wasn't there with you in purgatory." Dean just stared at Sam as he shared his dream / vision experience. He remembered exactly the moment Sam was describing, because he had felt comforted, like he wasn't alone. That memory alone confirmed that, however strange it was, Sam had been there with him briefly.
"Wow. So then what?"
"So I was so excited to have a lead! I summoned Crowley, who was useless again. He only confirmed what I suspected, that he could not himself access purgatory." Sam ducked his head, knowing the reaction his next words would get, "So I performed the binding spell on Death."
" - the hell Sammy!" Now it was Dean up and pacing. He remembered seeing the page burnt, and at the time worried that Death had carried out his very real threat of killing before the spell was finished. It was a ridiculous risk…but Sam was talking again, not looking at him but rather staring at the fire as if mesmerized.
"Death would not help me. I begged him to let me trade places…" Sam held up a hand to stop the flow of angry words about to cascade at him, "but he refused. So I asked him to kill me." Dean dropped to the coffee table in front of him to stare in horror as Sam continued in a quiet voice. "He refused, saying it wasn't my time."
"So I had failed. I had no other leads, no way to save you Dean." He looked at him then, dashing away the falling tears in frustration. "I couldn't even die. So I just left. I started walking and didn't stop. I got odd jobs to pay for a roof over my head and food. I avoided people. I stopped hunting. I just…existed…" He trailed off, unwilling to look and see how his words had affected Dean. He just waited for the explosion of anger he was sure was coming. He had failed, leaving Dean to rot in purgatory. On top of that, he had walked out on the family business…though nothing quite says "family" like them all being dead. When the silence stretched on, however, he finally risked a glance at Dean, who was sitting incredibly still and staring blindly across the room. He couldn't take it anymore, waiting for the hammer to drop, so he blurted, "All right, let's have it Dean! Tell me how disappointed you are in me. What a failure I've become. How I should have - "
"Shut up." Dean said gruffly. "C'mere." He reached across the space between them and cupped the back of Sam's head with his hand, drawing him into a hug. Not letting go, he simply said, "Sammy, I am so, so sorry." Sam, for his part, reveled in the unsolicited hug and apparent absolution from his failures. Dean finally released him, but kept his hand on Sam's neck as they drew back slightly. "You did what you could, Sam. I'm not angry, it's not your fault. But Sam - " he paused, thinking through his wording, "I am angry at what you did to my brother." Sam regarded him with a puzzled expression, as he hastened to explain. "You nearly starved yourself to death - physically, mentally, and emotionally. I hate to think what I would have found if I had come any later! I get that you lost hope, but did you never think about how it would feel for me to find you emaciated and completely broken?"
Sam ducked his head, absorbing the rebuke, and Dean ruffled his hair. He half-heartedly objected, knowing it was expected, but relished and soaked in the contact that had been so lacking for the past year. He knew he had given up, hadn't cared if he lived or died. It had been an incredibly dark time, and not once had he considered the possibility that Dean might return and be hurt by his choices. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know." Dean responded, "Never again, Sam. No matter what, ok?" Sam nodded. "Then we're good, brother."
A few days later, organizing the Impala and starting to get impatient at the inactivity, Dean came across the box of Sam's cell phones. Plugging them in to charge, he started checking the voice mails as Sam made dinner. A parade of messages made him sit up sharply and stare over at Sam, which garnered Sam's attention.
"What?"
Unplugging the headphones he had been using, Dean started playing the multiple messages Kevin had left for Sam the past year. Sam's countenance fell, and Dean felt a mixture of anger and understanding at his lapse of judgment. In his desperation to find Dean, Kevin had fallen completely off his radar.
"What do we do now?"
"He was our responsibility." Dean growled, sounding angrier than he actually was. Sam immediately pulled up a laptop and ran the messages through some algorithm, determining a last destination from the final call.
"And why would Kevin be in Centreville, Michigan?"
"Because," more typing from Sam, "his high-school girlfriend... goes to college there."
Dean looked skeptical. "That's thin."
"It's the best lead we got."
"We"?
Sam looked chagrined that Dean even asked that. "You were right. He was our responsibility. So... let's find him, okay?" Dean regarded him steadily, trying to gauge if Sam was really ready to be back hunting again. He had gained some weight back in the last few weeks and despite their broken nights trading nightmares, both had slept enough to not look completely exhausted. He wasn't back at his old 'fighting weight', but he looked like he was finally on the way back to full health.
"Ok, Sammy, let's go find Kevin."
