Fic: Vengeance (8/9)
Chapter VII: Hope
Chapter VIII: Truth
Sam stared up at Dean uncertainly. He had been too out of it earlier to notice much. Now, with drugs dulling the worst of the pain, he was capable of thinking.
And what he was thinking was that, despite the fierce protectiveness of the words, he'd never heard Dean sound that vulnerable - that scared - before.
"Dean?" he asked quietly. He was feeling better, but raising his voice was still beyond him.
Fortunately, Dean responded. "I'll take care of you," he said quietly. "Whatever you need, I'll get it. Whatever Doc Brandon says, I'll do it. You know I will, Sammy."
"Yeah, Dean, but -"
"Then what the hell was that crap about staying in the clinic?"
"Dean -"
"What, you think I'm going to leave you on your own, when you're hurt and you can't defend yourself, and have a night on the town while something fugly comes after you?" Dean paused, thought, and added, "Especially considering what happened last time I tried that? Is that how irresponsible you think I am?"
"Dean," Sam pleaded. He was tired, and Dean was making his head pound.
Dean deflated. "God, I'm sorry, kiddo. There I go upsetting you again." His hand rubbed Sam's chest in a soothing motion. "I'm sorry. Just… I won't make you do anything you don't want to, but please let me take care of you, Sam. I know I dropped the ball, and we're going to be talking about that. When you're feeling better. For now… please."
"Dean -"
"Just tell me what I have to do to make you trust me again. Anything, Sammy. Whatever it takes." Did Dean really not get it? "Sammy?" Dean asked, pleading now, actually pleading, and Sam sighed. He really didn't want to get into it; he was way too tired. Staying in the clinic until he was feeling better would make it easier on both of them. But Dean was begging, and what was Sam supposed to do? "Sammy, please."
"You said it yourself, Dean," Sam said quietly. "I'm crazy. You don't want to deal with that. It'll be -"
"Sam." Sam shut up. "Crap. I guess we are having this conversation now." Dean slid his hand to rest over Sam's heart. "You know I don't mean half the crap I say when I'm upset, Sammy. I'm not saying that excuses it, but… I didn't mean it. I admire the way you've been handling everything, and… I'm proud of you and everything you've done. And I know it's tiring and you're exhausted and half the time you're only fighting for my sake." Dean slid his other hand over to join his first. "You think I don't notice, Sam? Or that I don't appreciate it? Kiddo, I know I've got the first prize when it comes to little brothers. I can't live without you, Sammy."
"Yeah, you can," Sam said.
"No, I can't." Dean rubbed gently over the bandages on Sam's chest. "I tried. It sucked and I hated every minute of it and if I hadn't made a promise to you I would've offed myself. I am nevertrying that again."
Before he could say anything else, the door opened.
Jacob came in.
Dean's hand stilled, but he kept it on Sam's chest as he looked up at the kid.
He really should trust Jacob. Amy's son had given up what had to be a strong desire for revenge, abandoned the only family he had left, and taken off with a man he hated, just to help Sam.
But Sam was helpless, and the only person Dean trusted was himself.
"Hey," Dean said lightly. No need to antagonize Jacob unnecessarily. "You get any sleep?"
Jacob didn't spare Dean a glance. "You don't trust me," he said, making his way to the bed, eyes on Sam but speaking to Dean. "It doesn't matter. You're scared I'll hurt Sam to get back at you. That was what Dad was going to do."
Jacob sat on the edge of the bed.
That was it. It was one thing to trust the kid, and Dean wasn't even sure he could do that. It was another thing altogether to let the son of a woman Dean had killed sit unsupervised within inches of an injured Sammy.
Dean opened his mouth. Sam forestalled him. "It's OK, Dean. He's not going to hurt me."
Jacob finally looked at Dean. "I'm not. Sam helped me this morning. Well, last night, really."
"How?" Dean asked weakly. Sam had spent the last several hours being tortured. When had he had time to help Jacob? And help him with what?
"About Mom." Jacob hesitated. "I knew what Dad was planning when I called Sam. I did it because I hate you and Dad said hurting Sam would hurt you." Dean stiffened in anger, but a look from Sam kept him quiet. "Dad let me talk to Sam alone after they brought him in. They had him tied up, of course."
Dean waited.
"I asked Sam if he'd told you where to find Mom. He said no. He said if he'd known you were going to do it, he would have tried to talk you out of it. And then he said it didn't matter, because he would always stand by you no matter what you did." Jacob finally looked at Dean. "And then he spoke to me about Mom."
"Yeah?" Dean asked hoarsely.
"Yeah. I told him… Mom didn't like Dad. That was why we didn't live with him. It wasn't because of me. She told me he wasn't a good man. He killed people. For money, not because he's like us. And then… Sam told me what he knew about her. Mom. She was a good person and she saved Sam's life and she was Sam's friend. And then…" Jacob shrugged. "We talked."
Yup. Trust Sam.
Dean rubbed Sam's head. "You talked."
"Yes. Until they came to take Sam away." Jacob looked back at Sam. "They hurt you. I'm sorry."
"I'm fine," Sam said softly. "Don't worry about it."
"You should be careful. Dad might come after you again… Not right away, I think. He likes to plan. He planned for months before doing this. But he will."
"We'll be ready for him," Dean promised. "He won't catch us by surprise again."
Then he hesitated, thinking. After what he'd heard - Jacob had known his father would go after Sam - what he was about to say went against every instinct he had.
Well, almost every instinct. There was always the instinct to make Sam proud of him, and that was something he hoped this would do.
"Jacob." Jacob nodded acknowledgement without looking up. Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, trying to calm himself as much as his brother. "You got us out. And that probably saved Sammy's life. Thank you."
Dean risked a glance at Sam. Sam was smiling at him, making his heart lift.
"Do you have any family other than your Dad?" Dean asked.
"Mom has friends… Not… Not like us. But they know about us."
"Can they help you? Get you animal pituitaries or whatever?"
"One of them is a butcher."
"Um." Dean tried to get that picture out of his head. "OK. Do you know where they live?"
"New Jersey."
"OK. Then once Sam's better, we'll take you to them. It's not far from here. They'll take care of you, right?"
Jacob nodded. Then he said, "I want to go now."
"I get that, but I can't -"
"You don't have to leave Sam. You don't have to take me all the way. Just somewhere I can get a bus." Jacob hesitated and added, "You probably shouldn't meet them anyway. You're hunters."
"You said they're not like you." Jacob just looked at him, and Dean understood. Not kitsune, but something else. "Oh. Are they killing people?"
"You would've heard about it."
"Fair enough. Tell they to make sure I don't hear about them killing anyone and we'll be good. Will you be OK by yourself for an hour or so, kid?"
Jacob started to answer; then, realizing Dean hadn't been speaking to him, he fell silent.
Sam smiled. "I'll be fine. Just…"
"What?"
"Come straight back."
Dean's breath caught. "I promise," he said. "I will be back before you even realize I'm gone."
"You really do care about Sam," Jacob said.
Dean shrugged, meeting his eyes in the mirror. What, that was still a freaking surprise to people?
"He's Sam."
"I didn't think you cared about anyone."
Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, my life would be a lot easier if I didn't." Then he hastily added, "Except for Sam. I wouldn't give up anything about Sam."
"You fought, didn't you? Before Dad took Sam. He was upset."
"Your dad?"
"No. Sam. I think he thought you might not come for him. Don't look at me like that. I'm just telling you what I saw. Anyway, it was Dad's fault too. Dad kept telling him you weren't coming."
"Jacob." Dean hesitated. "Look, I'm sorry about your mom. I'm not - I did what I had to do. If I hadn't killed her, Sam would've had to eventually, and that would have killed him. Maybe even worse than Madison."
"Madison?"
"She was a werewolf. Sam liked her, really liked her, but… Well, she wasn't in control. She asked him to shoot her." Dean glanced at Jacob. "Sam and your Mom were friends. I didn't want him to have to do it himself."
"So you did."
"I'm sorry. I can't say if I could do it again I would do it any differently, because I wouldn't, but I'm sorry it had to be that way."
"OK." It wasn't forgiveness, but it was acceptance. Dean could live with that. He had killed the kid's mother, after all, and Jacob wasn't Sam. He wasn't an adoring little brother ready to forgive Dean anything if Dean just put it to him right. "I - I can't - I still hate you. But I promised Sam. I won't kill you."
"Thanks."
"You don't even know what it was like."
"My mom's dead, too."
"Sam told me. That's different. You still have Sam. Do you know what it's like when there's just one person in the world you trust, just one person who will always love you no matter what, and they die?"
Dean thought of kneeling in the mud watching the light fade from Sam's eyes, of seeing the ground close over an endlessly deep black hole, of hearing Cas say that Sam's soul was still in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer.
He thought of life without Sammy.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Dean pulled up outside the bus station. "Well, we're here. Where are you planning to go?"
"I can get my own ticket -"
"You try to buy a one-way ticket to New Jersey, they'll lock you in a room and call CPS. Tell me what you want."
Jacob considered briefly and then nodded. "OK. New York City. I'll ask them to meet me there."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes. I'll call them after you've bought the ticket."
Ten minutes later, Dean was saying goodbye to Jacob, feeling a pang that surprised him. He wasn't going to miss the kid, but…
But.
Dean walked Jacob on to the bus, asked the conductor to keep an eye on him ("My cousin's son, he stayed over for the weekend, I was going to take him back myself but one of the ER surgeons at the hospital fell sick so I'm on call this weekend"), and nodded a final farewell.
"You take care of yourself."
"Yes." Jacob eyed him with those unnervingly grown-up eyes. "And you take care of Sam."
Dean grinned. At least about this thing, he and Jacob were on the same page. "I can promise to do that."
"Good." Jacob looked at Dean. "I know you said you were sorry. I still hate you."
"So you said."
"I lost her. And you still have Sam." Jacob shrugged. "Maybe I was just born unlucky. Monsters are."
Sam blinked back tears of pain. The drugs were wearing off, and he didn't want another shot - he didn't like how zoned out they made him feel. But without their soothing effect, he could feel every welt and laceration, every bruise, every cut.
And, to make matters worse, they were trying to sit him up.
He had to admit that was his own fault. He'd flatly refused another IV, so that meant he had to eat. And that meant he had to sit up. Even if it hurt.
"Easy, Sam," Betty said softly. "Come on, I just need you to ride it out. Just a minute. Then I'll sit you up and you'll feel better. Trust me." She raised her voice. "Doctor?"
Sam felt a hand on his arm. "I'm going to help her, Sam. You're too big for Betty to support your weight on her own. Hold on, OK?"
Sam tried. He really did. He knew Brandon and the nurse meant well, and he didn't want to make it any harder for them. But he hurt, his entire body felt like it was on fire -
God, no, not fire, not fire, this wasn't that, not the Cage.
Sam gritted his teeth as the doctor and the nurse pulled him partway up. Brandon held him in place while Betty piled some pillows behind his back, and that just made it worse. Now he hurt and he was in an uncomfortable position.
"Hey." Sam hadn't heard the door open, but when he heard that voice he nearly cried in relief. Everything was going to be OK. Dean had come back. "What's going on?"
"Sam needs to eat," Betty explained. "We were trying to sit him up."
"You're doing it wrong."
And then Dean was there, and Brandon was standing aside to give him space, and Sam was so grateful he would have hugged his brother if he could've moved either of his arms.
"I know," Dean murmured, reaching down to wrap his arms around Sam. "I know. I've got you. C'mon."
Sam wasn't quite sure what happened, but one moment he was slumping back to the bed, burying his face in Dean's shoulder, and the next he was mostly sitting up, leaning back against Dean's chest.
It was finally over, and he was finally home.
Sam sighed and let himself sink into Dean's reassuring arms.
For a moment, Dean just relaxed and let himself feel the relief of Sam alive and breathing.
Sammy.
Safe.
That was all that mattered.
"Still hurt?" Dean asked.
"Better now," Sam mumbled.
"Oh, it is, huh?" Dean couldn't help laughing. "You're a girl, you know that?" Sam stiffened, and he squeezed lightly. "OK, princess, I got you."
"He needs to eat," Betty interjected cautiously. "I brought him this."
She held up a bowl of green jello. Sam made a tiny noise of dissatisfaction. Dean smacked him - carefully - on the arm. "None of that. You want to get out of here, you get something inside you. I'm not hauling your heavy ass around if you fall over from starvation." Then it struck him that Sam might be too out of it to get jokes, and he said, more gently, "C'mon, Sammy."
Sam still hesitated, and Dean finally got it. He couldn't use his hands and he didn't want Betty to feed him.
Dean rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the bowl. Betty gave it to him.
"Thanks," Dean said. "Could you guys leave us alone for a bit?"
By the time Brandon came back in fifteen minutes later, the bowl was empty. Sam had curled up on his left side - the only really comfortable position he could find, since his back and right arm were injured - with his left hand on a pillow he couldn't roll over onto it. There were more pillows at his back holding him in place.
He was practically asleep, and if Dean had anything to say about it, he would be all the way asleep soon.
Brandon smiled at both of them and pulled up a chair next to the bed.
"How're you feeling, Sam?"
Sam raised his head a little. "Doc. Better. Thanks."
Brandon turned to Dean. "Is he feeling better?"
Sam looked outraged. Dean grinned, rubbed his head soothingly, and said, "He's still in a lot of pain. But I think he's more comfortable."
"Hmmm." Brandon sat back. "Sam? You awake enough to answer a question for me?"
Sam nodded, although he didn't try to sit up. It was a sign of how much pain he really was in, and Dean squeezed his shoulder.
"OK," Brandon said. "Have you figured out what you want to do? Leave with Dean or go to the clinic? Because if you want to go to the clinic, I need to call ahead so they'll be ready for you."
Dean forced himself not to react, just keeping up the gentle soothing motion of his hand in Sam's hair.
Sam said nothing for a minute, and it was one of the longest minutes of Dean's life.
Sam turned his head enough to look up at Dean. "Can I -"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," Dean growled. "You can do anything you want to, Sammy."
"Dean." Sam held his eyes a moment longer before turning to the doctor. "I'll go with Dean."
Epilogue