The Long Con - Chapter Six
~ Chapter Six ~
Sam had been driving for almost four hours. He hadn't had the chance to call Bobby, as Dean had somehow beaten him back to the motel and had been waiting, bags packed, at the Impala.
"We're leaving," he had said abruptly as Sam came into sight, and then he had climbed into the car and waited impatiently for Sam to do the same. Despite the fact he was exhausted, starving, and needing nothing more than a soft bed for the night, he had got in behind the wheel and gunned the engine. Now they were travelling down a California highway, taking turns as Dean instructed.
Sam felt a knot of disquiet in his gut as he spotted the road sign. "Palo Alto?"
Dean lifted his head from the window and looked at Sam through bleary eyes. "Of course. Where did you think we were going?"
Sam didn't know. He had grown accustomed to going as and where Dean instructed. It seemed now that Dean had a goal in mind, and it wasn't one Sam wanted to revisit.
"Why are we here?"
"There is a potential hunt on campus," Dean said. "A coven of witches. Lives to save and all that."
Sam gulped. "We're going to Stanford."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Unless you have a problem with it. I know you've got baggage here, but I thought you might be able to get over that long enough to do your job."
Sam didn't want to go anywhere near Stanford. In fact, he didn't even want to be in California. He wanted to turn the car around and drive somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it put a healthy distance between himself and this mess of memories. But he couldn't do that. Dean was right; there were people here to save. And that was their job. Forcing down his emotional chaos, Sam put the pedal to the metal and increased their speed. The sooner they were there, the sooner they could leave.
"I'm sure you remember the area well enough to find us a motel," Dean said with a yawn.
Sam nodded. "I remember." He remembered too much about the place. That was the problem.
"Good. You find us somewhere to stay, and I will finish my sleep. Got to take the Zs while I can get them. It's not like I get any sleep sharing a room with you."
For what felt like the hundredth time, Sam apologized. He knew his nightmares were a problem for more than just him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The nightmares came every night, and he could hardly stop himself from calling out when he was being skinned alive by Lucifer and Michael. For brothers that hated each other, they made one hell of a tag team.
Dean's snores were the only response to Sam apology. Sam turned the radio off, not wanting to disturb his brother while he was getting the sleep he apparently needed. He himself was looking forward to getting to a motel, whatever the location, so he could finally sleep. He was dead on his feet. He pulled the car to a stop in front of the Easy Sleeper motel on the outskirts of town and climbed out, careful not to slam the car door.
The clerk gave him an assessing look as he entered the lobby. "Can I help you?" he asked warily.
"I need a room," Sam said hoarsely. He still hadn't fully recovered from his encounter with the djinn. "Twin please."
The clerk looked out of the window at the Impala and shrugged. "Okay."
Sam wondered at the man's tone. Why did people always assume they were a couple? Was it so unusual for brother's to road trip together? Shrugging off the question, Sam pulled a pile of bills out of his pocket and laid them on the counter.
"Here you go," the clerk said, holding out a room key. "It's room seven. Just around the corner."
Sam mumbled his thanks and made his way back out to the car. He parked them in front of their room and nudged Dean's shoulder gently to wake him.
"Dammit, Sam," Dean moaned. "I was having a good dream."
"Sorry, but we're here."
Dean looked blearily at the motel façade. "I guess this will do." He threw open his door and tapped his foot impatiently as Sam got their bags from the trunk and unlocked the door for them. Dean pushed past him and flopped down on the bed closest to the door. "Wake me if you start another apocalypse," he said as his eyes fell closed.
Sam's hands fisted at his sides. He was tired, hungry, and in pain. He didn't need his brother throwing his failings at him again. He opened his mouth, ready to finally let loose at his brother, but Dean opened one eye and grinned at him.
"Something you want to say, Sam?"
"No," Sam muttered as he flopped back on the bed. "Nothing at all."
Calling himself a coward, Sam toed off his boots and curled up in the middle of the bed. There was plenty he wanted to say to his brother, but nothing that he would.
xXx
Sam was woken the next morning by a loud voice butchering Stairway To Heaven in the bathroom. He cracked open his eyes and checked the time. It was noon. He couldn't believe that he had slept so long; moreover, he couldn't believe Dean had let him sleep so long.
He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his stubbly jaw. He felt better for a good night's sleep, though he was starving. He looked at the closed bathroom door and wondered what version of his brother he was dealing with today. The singing was a good sign, but he wasn't about to get his hopes up.
He pulled his duffel over and pulled out a clean set of clothes. They would need to make a stop at a Laundromat soon; he was running low on clean clothes, and if he was, Dean was, too.
"Afternoon," Dean said pointedly as he came back into the room.
Sam looked down. It seemed he was dealing with the surly version of his brother after all. He picked up his clothes and made his way to the bathroom.
"Not so fast," Dean called after him. "I'm heading out, and I want to talk to you first."
Sam paused with his hand of the door and braced himself for another tirade about him keeping Dean awake with his nightmares. It didn't come, however. When Dean spoke, he sounded almost like himself.
"So, Sam, I'm going to check out the potential witches today."
"Okay. Give me a minute to clean up, and I'll come with you."
"There's no need for that." Dean smiled. "I figured you'd want to take the day off to visit with some old friends."
"Dean, I have no friends here anymore. They've all graduated by now. Besides, I haven't kept contact with any of them."
Dean smiled, and there was something in that smile that alarmed Sam. "Come on, Sam. They've not all left. Someone is still here."
Sam palms were sweaty. "Who?"
"Jess, of course. Are you telling me you hadn't even thought about going to see her while we're here?"
Sam had been doing all he could not to think about Jess since they crossed the state line. Did he want to see her? That was an easy yes. Did he think he could bear to stand at her grave again and talk to cold marble? That was a little more complicated.
"C'mon, Sam. You want to see her, right?"
Sam nodded mutely. He didn't think he could articulate his concerns, even if he thought Dean would listen.
"That's settled then. You go see her, and I will go check out the campus wiccans."
Dean pulled on his jacket and bent to tie his boots. "Say hi to her for me, okay?"
Sam didn't answer. He didn't know how to respond to that.
He pushed his way into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He examined his face in the mirror above the sink and was not surprised to see his eyes were wide and wild looking. Raking a hand through his hair, he muttered encouragement to himself. He could do this. He needed to. If nothing else, it would satisfy Dean. He showered and dressed on auto-pilot, thinking only of what he was about to do. Dean was gone by the time he got back into the room. Sam was relieved to have the room to himself. The Impala was still parked out front which was odd. Sam had expected Dean to take it with him to the campus. It was a fair walk from their motel. It was a longer walk to the cemetery, however, and Sam thought Dean was being unexpectedly kind to leave him the car.
The drive to the cemetery didn't take long, and soon Sam was standing at the gates, bracing himself before he stepped through.
A lot had changed since he was last here. He had come shortly after Jess's funeral to say goodbye to her before he and Dean hit the road together. A lifetime had passed between that moment and this. There had been other loves, other losses, and a trip to hell to endure. He wasn't the same person he had been then. Then, he had been a boy in a man's body, aware of the horrors that lurked in the darkness, but not really at one with them. Now, he was a man with intimate knowledge of the real world and with a surfeit of mistakes and failures behind him. Drawing strength from the knowledge, he stepped through the gates and walked in the direction of Jess's grave.
As he came within sight of the bronze marble headstone, he faltered for a second before pushing himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He came to a stop and looked down at the gold lettering etching out her name.
"Hey," he said softly. "It's me."
He paused as if expecting a response, but of course none came. He wasn't speaking to Jess, not really, he was speaking to himself. Saying the things he needed to say.
"I'm sorry it's been so long. I should have come sooner. I'm not sure how it works for you. I've had a sneak peek of heaven, but we never dealt with the whats and wheres. Not really. I wonder if you know all I have done since I lost you. There is some stuff in there that should make you proud, but there is plenty that I hope you haven't seen."
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes pricked with tears, and he let them fall.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Jess. It's all my fault. You were destined to die from the minute I met you."
Tears fell freely from his eyes now as he thought back to that time. It was an easier time, a happier time, but it was also a lie. He had been pretending to be normal when all along he was the freak of the century with demon blood running through his veins.
Sam had once asked Jess what he would do without her. Her response had been that he would crash and burn. She was partially right; he had crashed and burned multiple times since that day, but he had come through it all. Nothing had been able to keep him down forever. Not even the cage.
"I'm struggling right now, Jess," he said. "I'm really struggling. There is something wrong with Dean, or maybe it's me. Whatever it is, we don't work right anymore. I think he's going to leave me behind."
That thought scared Sam more than any other. He couldn't be alone now. Not with Lucifer constantly on the edges of his mind and a head full of Hell. He would take whatever abuse Dean deigned to deal out as long as he stayed.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
If Sam expected some answer to occur to him in that moment, he was disappointed. Nothing came to him, and he suspected nothing ever would.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable there, talking to nothing, Sam laid a hand on Jess's headstone and then turned and walked away.
If Dean intended to make Sam feel worse by encouraging him to visit Jess's grave, he had succeeded. Sam felt like crap as he slid behind the wheel of the Impala. Despite the fact he had overslept that morning, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide away. He wondered if Dean would be there when he got to the motel. Secretly, he hoped not.
Unfortunately, Dean was there when he got back to the motel. He was sitting on the bed with Sam's laptop open on his lap. He looked up as Sam walked in and frowned.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked callously.
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't believe Dean was asking that, knowing where he had just been.
Dean snapped the laptop closed and pushed it onto the bed. "Did something happen?"
Sam raked a hand through his hair. "No. I'm fine. How did it go on campus?"
"It was a dead end. Wiccans on campus translated to hippy chicks with a spice rack. Still, I got a couple of numbers in case we hang around town. So, now are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?"
"It's just…" Sam trailed off. "It was a hard day is all."
"Oh right," Dean rolled his eyes, "Jess. It's been a while since you bummed me out with that particular failure."
Sam's gaze snapped up to his brother's, and his expression tightened. He knew it was his fault, but this was the first time Dean had acknowledged it, too. Ordinarily, Dean would be the one arguing against Sam's belief, telling him it wasn't his fault and that nothing could have been done to save her.
"Come on, man. You have to know it's the truth," Dean said. "You were the one with the freaky visions. You should have warned her."
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know that."
Dean smiled. "As long as we're on the same page. For the record, if you have any freaky dreams about my imminent demise, tell me about them."
"You know that's not going to happen," Sam said. "I haven't had any visions since Yellow Eyes died."
Dean snorted. "And you know that should reassure me, but it doesn't. You have so much screwed up in your grapefruit lately, I wouldn't be surprised if they came back to haunt us, too."
Closing his eyes for a moment to marshal himself, Sam nodded. "You may be right."
"Of course I am," Dean said. "I'm the big brother. Just keep me informed, okay? Come to think of it, we might want to start keeping some kind of list of all the crazy you have going on. It might help us keep track, because God knows there is enough of it."
Sam was mortified to feel tears spring to his eyes. He turned away from Dean, under the pretence of dropping onto the bed, and thumbed them away.
"Are you crying?" Dean asked incredulously. "Seriously, dude. When did you become a woman?"
"I'm not crying," Sam lied.
Dean laughed bitterly. "Sure you're not. And I'm not calling those hippies for a hook-up."
"Are we staying in town then?" Sam had hoped now the hunt was a bust they could get out of the way, out of the state if they could manage it.
Dean eyed him warily. "I was thinking we could hang around a while, but if you're going to be a bitch about it, we can get out of town early. I have a new case for us anyway."
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"The what is unimportant. What matters is there where." Dean grinned. "Kansas. Sam, my boy, we're going home!"
xXx
Bobby and Dean waited for the call, but it never came. Something or someone had stopped Sam from calling them, and they didn't know which was worse.
Dean's cast was off, and he was able to sit shotgun as Bobby steered them towards Nebraska.
When they arrived in Rochdale, they found the motel Sam had been staying in. The clerk was able to confirm that he had stayed there, but he had left two days before.
"Big guy," he confirmed. "Looked like he had been through a lot. Had a case of the crazy eyes."
Dean had to bite back the urge to punch the clerk for talking about Sam with such derision. If this man had even an inkling of what Sam had been through, was still going through, he would never have spoken about him like that.
Oblivious to just how close he was coming to a broken nose, the clerk continued. "He booked a twin room, but I only ever saw him."
Bobby thanked the man, and he booked a room for him and Dean. They had driven straight through the night, and they were both exhausted.
They let themselves into the room and dropped their bags down on the beds. Dean sank onto the small couch and hid his face in his hands. Bobby squeezed his shoulder.
"We know he's okay," he comforted. "That has to count for something."
"He was okay," Dean said with emphasis. "If you count a case of the crazy eyes as okay."
"That idiot didn't know what he was talking about," Bobby said. "Pay him no attention."
"You heard what he said, Bobby. He booked a twin room. That bastard Lucifer has him thinking he's still with me. He's running around the country, hunting, with a hallucination. It doesn't get much more dangerous than that."
"He's not a child, Dean," Bobby chided. "He can handle himself."
Dean closed his eyes and waited for the surge of anger to pass. It wasn't Bobby's fault. He just didn't understand how things were. Sam needed Dean to take care of him. It was the way it always had been and always would be.
"How about you check the GPS again," Bobby suggested. "You never know, he may have his phone turned on again."
Dutifully, Dean pulled the new laptop out of his bag and booted it up. He waited as for the slow motel internet to connect, and then he opened the page for Sam's cell phone provider. Typing in the now familiar details, Dean waited for it to come back with the usual 'unavailable' response. It didn't come. Instead, a map with a flashing icon came onto the screen.
"It's on!" he gasped, drawing Bobby to his side. "He's turned it on!"
"Where is he?" Bobby asked.
"Rock Ridge, Colorado."
"Colorado, what's he doing there?"
Dean's mind was already working well ahead of Bobby's. He knew his brother better than anyone, and therefore, he knew where he was going.
"He's going to Lawrence. He's going home."