Day 44: Sun Room (4th Shift)
As soon as she had the chance, Sheena ninja'd herself out of the cafeteria and away from the conversation she'd been semi-forced to have. She probably could have just clammed up and told the boys to go away, but she'd kind of owed at least Endrance some kind of explanation. It wasn't everyday the embodiment of darkness pops up and delivers a
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"I wasn't talking about him," Sam said, a little impatiently. Partially because the notion of him giving a damn about anyone being less than nice to Lelouch wasn't even worth consideration, and because as much as this wasn't what he'd been referring to earlier, he couldn't deny that it'd been bothering him from the start. The assumption that these people were all dangerous because of what they could do. He hadn't missed the way Dean would tense up, grow wary. How far did that extend to him?
There was a reason why Sam had kept his mouth shut about the visions until he couldn't any longer. Ever since then...he didn't know anymore. The line between Dean being afraid for him and Dean being afraid of him wasn't so clear.
But Jesus, he didn't know how they'd gone from-whatever to talking about this. He hadn't ever meant for it to get here, with Dean basically asking him to spell out his issues on his abilities. He kind of wished Dean had just caught on and then they could...pretend like the subject was never raised. The way they always did. He didn't know how to address any of this without confessing too much, without sounding as if...
What was he even supposed to say? Hypothetically speaking, if your little brother was a half-blooded demon willingly using his psychic abilities, would you freak out and call him a monster?
"Sometimes I just-" He broke off, stopping short of what he'd wanted to say for awhile. "Look, can we not do this now?"
Despite just wanting Dean to get it, he didn't want to do this now, either. And it made no logical sense, he knew, to want Dean to understand something that he wasn't even willing to explain. But this wasn't something he could shove under a microscope, all neat and tidy. It didn't work like that. He didn't have a clue how it worked.
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It looked like Sam was in full backpedal mode, which meant even if Dean wanted to know what the hell was his problem, he probably wasn't gonna drag it outta his brother. Sam shared when he was ready, whether Dean was ready for it or not, and there'd been plenty of times, especially when Dad died, that he wished Sam would keep it to himself. If he didn't want to do this, fine. Dean knew when he might as well be pulling teeth from his brother and unlike his brother, he knew when to quit. Dean found himself unconsciously reaching up to rub at his shirt over the healing tattoo, itching at it and wishing that weird feeling in the back of his head would just go away - something didn't feel right about this, even something like just arguing with Sam like he'd done before. Why did it feel like they weren't even fighting about the same thing?
Anyway, as much as he wanted to know what it was they were even arguing in the first place, he really didn't want to be fighting with Sam if he could help it. The kid had just died and come back to life less than a week ago (twice, if you counted last night's trip-out), and Dean was all too aware of his own limited time. There wasn't any point in wasting it like this, pushing his brother's buttons 'cause the truth was he was just scared of what might really be the issue here.
"Okay, so what's the deal for tonight?" Dean asked after an awkward pause, dropping his hand from the tattoo. "I dunno about you, but I'm not too jazzed at the idea of headin' up to the morgue to check on Harry."
Maybe it was just being paranoid. Obviously Sam hadn't died, but first the spirit attack, then the both of them seeing Sam turned into a hellhound's bitch? Dean didn't need an encore of that, thanks. They'd already torched Harry, and he was pretty sure all of his remains were taken care of...only he wasn't one hundred percent sure and right now, Dean wasn't proud to say he was looking for an excuse not to go up there.
Dean couldn't believe he was turning chickenshit over this. A hunt was supposed to be a hunt, that was it. Now he was just trying to get outta something as simple as a probably-finished salt 'n burn 'cause Sam might get hurt again. Maybe it was just everything that happened so far, and little to no sleep finally doing a number on him. Giving him crap judgment.
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He stared at his brother for a moment, knowing that if he didn't say it now, he never would. Bringing this up? Not really something he'd planned, to say the least, and he knew that if he had half a chance to think about it next time, he'd keep his mouth shut.
Thinking about it further now, yeah, no, he shouldn't have gone there. Dean didn't need to deal with whatever personal crap Sam had accumulated. Even if it...kind of had to do with Dean, but he knew better than to think that that was all it was. Still-it was too late to take it back and he didn't know if he'd be making it worse or better by keeping it to himself now that Dean already knew that something was wrong in the first place. Even if his brother wasn't going to keep pushing now, Sam had started something and-it'd fester there. And sooner or later, one of them was gonna snap and if it came out then, it was going to definitely be worse.
Yeah, he probably was gonna make it worse either way.
He licked his lips and let out a slow breath. "It's not..." He hesitated, then pushed on, quiet but hurried, like if he took a second out to pause, he was gonna come to his senses about just how horrible of an idea this was and run away.
"It's-I just don't think everyone who decides they want to learn about what the hell it is they can do instead of hiding from it-" until everyone around them dies "-is automatically gonna turn into a monster, okay?"
Oh, goddamn it.
He swallowed, but didn't drop his gaze this time. Instead, he watched Dean warily, a part of him expecting that this was it, that Dean would know, just like that-and he thought: maybe he was sort of relieved, too. It wasn't like he didn't deserve whatever he had coming. Did it really matter whether it came now or later?
...
...Yeah. It kind of did.
About ten seconds too late, he realized that Dean had changed the subject. He couldn't decide if he was grateful or not, but at least it was familiar territory. When in doubt, talk about the hunt. He'd lost track of the amount of times Dad had finally snapped, Let's just go over this again, and in some ways, that change of topic tactic was one of the few things they'd ever agreed on. Sometimes not even then.
He frowned, still troubled, and feeling the urge to get away. "Skuld's filling our request tonight, so I'll have to find you after that. I, uh." He ran a hand through his hair. God, he was tired of this, wasting his time putting together this puzzle when he should've been doing other things. "I don't know. We still need those files, right?"
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But he kept his mouth shut.
Dammit, Sam hadn't forgotten about the files - apparently dying-but-not-really hadn't changed his mind about it, and for a brief second, Dean was annoyed that Sam could still keep his focus on stuff like that even in the middle of a fight; usually it was useful but right now? He wished his brother would space on things here and there like everyone else. Dean reached up, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping his hand and shrugging.
"Guess so. It'd help stick to whatever cover they got for us here," and Dean just barely resisted the urge to pointedly add unlike a certain someone, and went on, "I guess the battle plan will be we'll hook up in my room and check the doctor offices or something. Might have to split up to cover more offices though."
He had a pretty good feeling where his file was, but if he could get Sam off his back for a few minutes, he might be able to stash it away or at least get a look at it and see if it said anything about his deal. Maybe even buy him some time to rip it up. Dean was pretty sure he was gonna tell Sam anyway, but when he was ready, not 'cause some jacked up Institute threw some fake papers at his brother and started making him ask all these questions.
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At least they were agreed on the files. He thought they should check out the file rooms, too (they had to have been identified on those crudely drawn maps as file rooms for a reason, right?) and he wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of splitting up given their track record so far. Dean had been...not himself in one way or another twice, Sam had freaking died, and God knew what else could happen tonight.
But he'd argued enough with Dean for the day, so he decided to keep quiet. He just wanted to get out of here, clear his head before he did or said anything else he'd regret.
Besides, the patients were starting to get herded out now.
He sighed. "All right, I'll...see you tonight."
There was a half-second beat as he hesitated, feeling as if there was more he should say-knowing that there was more he should say-but he just turned around instead and left, slipping into a gap between two patients within the small group filing out the door.
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