Fic: 'My Ghosts Are Not Gone Ch.1' (Supernatural)
Rated: T
Pairings: Gen
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Spoilers for season 11 finale
Word Count: 3.089
Summary: AU - Sam has died in Cold Oak and Dean couldn’t bring him back to life. For years after, Dean manages to drag himself from one hunt to the next, not sure why he still forces himself to stay alive and keep on doing the family business when there’s no family left.
Fast forward, he is confused when Amara tells him she’d give him what he desires the most. But when he meets a 24-year-old Sam stumbling through the woods, it all seems to make sense.
.
'My ghosts are not gone
They dance in the shade
And kiss the black core of my heart
Making words, making sounds, making songs'
.
Sam recognizes him the instant he can make out the vague silhouette against the spare light of the moon. Something is different, he is aware, but he’d recognize that stance and that walk anywhere.
“Dean!” he yells, smiling and relieved, because he has no idea where he is or what happened in the past couple hours. It feels as if he has taken a long, restful nap and for some reason, he’s woken up in the forest.
He expects Dean to mock him about having to manage to get lost. He wonders how long he has been gone and hopes his brother didn’t worry too much. But there’s no ‘What took you so long bitch?’, not even a gruff ‘You fine, Sammy?’.
Instead, Dean freezes. Sam can feel his stare on him although it is too dark to make out any detailed expressions. So Sam approaches, but he can barely manage to take two steps before Dean is on him and pinning him to the ground. The weight on him is heavy, the earth underneath unyielding. The tackle has caught Sam off guard so he doesn’t have a chance to struggle when his brother hits his head against the grassy ground.
“You motherfucker,” he growls, and Sam wonders whether it is actually Dean who is almost tearing strands of his hair out. He knows his brother’s voice. It has been his constant companion safe for the few years he spent in college. But this voice, although its core is unmistakably Dean, is a lot lower, kinda sounding more like Dad used to.
The figure above him is still grumbling but he is too busy trying to free his face that is squashed against the green to pay too much attention. He starts fighting back, using all the knowledge he has about combat, which is a lot, but the man above him is always stronger, always faster. It confuses Sam even more because this guy’s movements are an awful lot like Dean’s, only better somehow, always one step ahead.
“To have the nerve to wear his face,” the man growls, his anger palpable. There’s a blow and then Sam only senses the hot burning pain where the guy had hit him in the cheekbone.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam manages to mumble out.
The man chuckles so coldly that a shiver runs down his spine. “Funny that you ask that,” he answers and Sam’s fear levels only spike higher when the man pulls out a knife. His struggles become wilder, adrenalin making his movements more powerful, but it’s useless.
He expects his throat to be cut open. Instead the man only makes a shallow cut on the open skin of his neck. It is the first time since he has tackled him down that the man is losing determination. But before Sam can understand what the hell the guy’s doing, he’s already pulled a flask out, pouring all its contents over his face. Holy Water, Sam realizes.
“What the-“
The man stars rummaging in his pockets again but by now Sam is convinced that this is probably just a huge misunderstanding or something. He realizes what the guy was searching for when a flashlight is beaming into his face. It is so bright he has to squeeze his eyes shut.
“Sammy?” And yes, finally, that is his Dean’s voice. Still a little too low but with that worried tone he’d recognize anywhere.
“Yeah dumbass, who’d you think I was?” he suppressed the urge to wince at the pain that was still fiery hot on his cheek. Dean had moved the flashlight a little aside so Sam could open his eyes again.
“My God,” his brother murmured, and Sam had never seen this unique mix of awestruck, confused and incredulous on his expressions.
“Fuck. What the hell happened to your face?” Because now that he inspected Dean a little closer, it was blatantly clear that something was wrong. Dean looked… older. Not the ‘I was worried out of my mind and didn’t sleep or eat for three days’ older, no, this was completely different. For a moment he worried that he had been hit by a curse or something, but was soon distracted when Dean spoke up again.
“Sammy?” His voice was wobbly and shaky, which was weird if Dean would have spoken with his normal voice, let alone with this deep version.
He felt cooling wet on his wound and realized that his brother was crying. “Dean? What-“
But he was interrupted by his brother pulling him against his chest, handling all the weight of his upper body like it was nothing and crushing him against himself. His head was buried in Dean’s shoulder and even if he had wanted to untangle it, he couldn’t have with how firmly his brother was holding him. He could feel Dean running a hand through his hair over and over again. Not that awkward patting thing that he did when he wanted to comfort Sam but not get overly touchy feely in the process.
Confused, Sam pulled his own arms up to run over Dean’s back. He could feel the wet spot on his neck where his brother was crying against. If he hadn’t been so confused and worried, he would’ve probably celebrated in glee about using this scene for ammo for the rest of their lives.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, confusion kinda fucking with his senses, when Dean finally pulled back. His face was wet, but he had the brightest grin on his face that Sam had seen in a long time. It made the weird wrinkles on his face stand out even more, yet made him look unusually boyish and young at the same time.
“Hey Sammy, you want to ride with Baby? She’s just at the side of the road. Want to sit next to me?”
Sam was confused and made sure to show it. “What else we’d be driving in, jerk?”
Whatever he’d said, for some reason it seemed to have made Dean inexplicably happy. He analyzed his sentence, trying to find out what had put him in such a good mood.
“Come on,” his brother’s voice broke, “Come on, bitch. I took good care of her.”
“Dude, what’s going on? Did something happen to you?” Dean helped him to stand up with one hand and laughed.
“Yeah, something sure did happen. Come on, Sammy.” As they walked, Dean’s body was unusually close to him, his hand on Sam’s shoulder, the smile on his face never budging.
“Dude, you’re freaking me out. What happened? Why’re you so weird?”
But Dean didn’t answer his question, just grinned and kept on repeating “Come on, Sammy” over and over again. Finally, he spotted the Impala as they got out of the forest and approached the road. It reassured him to see the car. At least everything about her was just the way he knew and expected it to be. He opened the door and sat side of the bank. For a moment, his brother simply stood outside and watched him sit in the car with a bright grin on his face. What the hell?
Eventually, he took his usual place behind the driver’s seat, leaned back, took a deep breath and turned to watch Sam again.
“Dude, what’s going on? You’re weirding me out. First you ambush me and then you act all-“ He exasperatedly threw his hands up in the air, not sure how to call his brother’s latest strange behavior.
“Hey Sammy,” Dean answered instead, “You hungry? How about we grab a couple of beer, some takeout, some healthy salad even? Whatever you want, hm? Or those girly smoothies and frappucinos you like?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Only if you’ll tell me what the hell is going on.”
Dean honest to God ruffled through his hair then and Sam wondered whether he had been beamed into a parallel universe or something.
“Whatever you want, Sammy.” And the tone of his voice sounded so honest that Sam felt almost embarrassed with how touched he was. He leaned back though and stared out of the window, avoiding Dean’s penetrating stare. “Just start driving, man.”
He did but the silence didn’t last for long.
“Come on, Dean. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Or is- shit.” Sam had to hold himself when his brother suddenly stopped the car on the middle of the road. Thank God the streets were otherwise deserted. “Is there something wrong, Sammy? Does anything hurt? Shit, I should’ve asked sooner, I just- Does your back feel alright?”
Sam rolled his eyes. Whatever this was, it was quickly getting ridiculous. “Everything’s alright, Dean. You sure you didn’t hit your head against something?
Dean ignored his question which hadn’t been rhetoric in the slightest. “Lemme see your back.”
“My back? No, I feel fine. Just-“ he sighed, “Just drive, man. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I feel just peachy, so just-“
“Please, Sammy,” Dean pleaded in such an earnest expression that Sam huffed, and pulled his shirt up so his back was free and turned towards his brother. He could feel Dean’s intense stare before he could feel his calloused fingers running over the centre of his back as if checking for something. “Incredible,” he murmured, and Sam pulled his shirt back down.
“Yeah. Start driving.”
Dean fired the engine and eventually Sam got used to his brother glancing at him every couple seconds as if checking whether he was still there. He sighed and turned the music up. At least, Dean’s taste of music hadn’t magically changed.
“How’s your face, Sammy? Didn’t mean to hurt you, just thought-“ he let the sentence hang in the air. Sam sure was interested what his brother had thought when he had tackled him down, but it wasn’t like Dean was giving him any answers.
“Fine. Just throbs a little.”
“First-aid-kit’s still in the trunk. I’ll look at it when we stop for food, okay?” Sam wondered why the first-aid-kit was ‘still’ in the trunk. Where else would it be?
“Is fine. Don’t need anything, doesn’t even bleed really.”
“No, no, I’ll take a look.” It was as if his brother wasn’t even listening to half of what he was saying, caught up in his mind over God knows what.
He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the trees at the side of the road that were only illuminated by the car light pass by. “Where are we?” His memories were kinda fuzzy.
“Kansas, Lebanon.” Sam frowned.
“Dude, could you stop staring at me? You’re gonna hit something.”
Dean chuckled like it was the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “God, you don’t know how I missed your bitching, Sammy.”
He sighed, feeling like a broken record, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Nothing makes sense.”
Of course, his brother didn’t give him a straight answer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Sam relaxed his body, sinking further into the bank and scrunched his face up in concentration. The memories seemed so far away for some reason. Every time he tried to grasp them they slipped away. “The last clear thing? Breaking out of that prison in Arkansas. Then we went somewhere… I don’t even know, we were hunting something, I think. A djinn?”
Dean nodded. “In Illinois. What else?”
“I don’t- I don’t know. I feel like there are pictures in my head sometimes but-“ he couldn’t even explain what was going on in his mind, it was so confusing. “They’re gone so fast, and I can’t place them.”
His brother ruffled through his hair again, patted his shoulder and Sam was almost getting used to this new strange behavior. “It’s okay, Sammy. Don’t force yourself. Look, we’ll go through that drive-through and get us something to eat, hm?”
Sam felt as if he was being treated like a little child, even more so than usually. Dean’s talking reminded him of mothers asking their babies something with high pitched voices although they knew exactly that the kids wouldn’t answer.
“Isn’t this place a little too expensive?” It seemed to be above the run down fast food joints and diners they normally favored.
Dean grinned. “Only the best for you, Sammy.” He proceeded on ordering whatever must have been on the place’s menu. Burgers, steaks, fish, fries, ice-cream (“That girly strawberry-cheesecake flavor, yeah? I’ll get you that and some Cookie Dough?” - “Dean, I can’t even eat all of that.” - “They have something with caramel, too. You like those caramel toffees right? Yeah, we’ll take the caramel flavored one, too.”).
In the end, the whole backseat was stacked with food and it was so bizarre that Sam couldn’t help but laughing. “I’m gone for like a few hours and you’re insane already.”
Suddenly Dean’s face stopped radiating the same shine as it did before. His smile seemed wistful and sad. “Yeah,” he laughed humorlessly, “Out of my mind since you been gone.”
Eventually they stopped at a grassy field. The starts were pretty visible from there and although the moon wasn’t quite full, it was enough for them not to stumble in the dark. They got all of the takeout boxes out and spread them on the hood of the Impala.
Sam made some space for himself and sat cross-legged next to the many boxes. The engine was warm and although it was May, the night was pretty cool. Normally Dean wouldn’t allow it because he didn’t like Sam’s dirty shoes on the hood of his shiny Baby. His brother didn’t comment on it though. Instead he asked “You cold?”
And before Sam could answer, Dean had already stripped himself of his jacket and was spreading it across his shoulders. “I’m alright Dean, I don’t need-“
“You’re even wearing the same clothes,” his brother interrupted him, but he was more speaking to himself than to his little brother. Sam looked himself up and down. He was wearing plain jeans, a white shirt and a striped button down. They were his clothes and he didn’t know what else Dean was expecting him to wear. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza.
“You’re gonna tell me now what’s going on or what?”
“First eat something. Aren’t you starving?” He didn’t know how Dean knew but yeah, he was starving. So he grumbled a little but took a bite of his slice. His brother grabbed a burger, looked what was underneath the bread and took a bite. It was a simple motion but it was unusual nonetheless. Dean caught him staring.
“I once ate a burger that looked delicious but there was grey goo coming out of it.”
Sam laughed. He hadn’t heard that story before.
“The thing was drugged, too.”
“Your burger was drugged?” He laughed again and this time so hard that some pizza accidently got stuck in his airways. He started coughing and Dean was over in a flash, patting his back. “You okay Sam?”
He nodded, taking deep breaths. “What did they drug the burger with?”
Dean shrugged. “Long story. But my pudding was once drugged, too.”
“You don’t even like pudding.”
“Yeah, I don’t but it was the only thing eatable at that weight-loss-center.”
“You were at a weight-loss-center?”
“A case.”
“With Dad?”
“No. Alone.”
Dean started telling him stories then that Sam had never heard before. His brother was a good story teller. He twisted and bended the truth at times to give everything more drama, but it made the tale only more exciting. It reminded him of when they were kids, when they didn’t have more than a couple of comic books and Dean came up with stories to entertain Sam.
When they had finally finished eating he felt as if he would burst out of his seams, he was that full. Usually he wasn’t one to overeat, but the food had been good and so had been his brother’s stories. He got taken away.
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he groaned and heard his brother laughing in the background. He reached out a cup for him to take. Sam took a sip but scrunched his face up. “Isn’t mine.”
“Your sugary creamy shit isn’t going to help you digest. This will.” It was disgusting because Dean drank his coffee black, without sugar.
“No, thanks.” Instead he decided to wait it out. After about half an hour, he could slowly feel some room in his stomach again.
“Lemme look at your face, Sammy. Completely forgot about it while we were talking.”
Sam fussed, argued that he was just fine, but his brother was taking none of it. His chin was firmly held by Dean’s hand and his face turned to the side so Dean could inspect his cheek.
“I’ll get something to clean that up.” Sam, who knew by now that no arguing would help, let him do it. Dean returned from the trunk with their first-aid-kit, got some gauze and antiseptic and pressed it against his wound. Sam hissed a little from the burn but it didn’t hurt too much.
“Dean,”
“You sleepy, Sam?” He was. He could feel his eyes drooping already.
“Come on, get your ass in the backseat. We’ll drive back tomorrow.”
“Back where?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
So he dragged himself into the backseat and let Dean slip something under his neck. Something didn’t let him fall asleep though. He forced his eyes back open. “Dean?”
“Yeah?” His brother was lying on the front seat, but his back was propped up. “You fine?”
He smiled. “The best I have been in nine years.” It concerned Sam, but his mind was muddled with sleep, already.
“You felt unwell for nine years?”
“Go to sleep, Sammy.”
.
Pairings: Gen
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Spoilers for season 11 finale
Word Count: 3.089
Summary: AU - Sam has died in Cold Oak and Dean couldn’t bring him back to life. For years after, Dean manages to drag himself from one hunt to the next, not sure why he still forces himself to stay alive and keep on doing the family business when there’s no family left.
Fast forward, he is confused when Amara tells him she’d give him what he desires the most. But when he meets a 24-year-old Sam stumbling through the woods, it all seems to make sense.
.
'My ghosts are not gone
They dance in the shade
And kiss the black core of my heart
Making words, making sounds, making songs'
.
Sam recognizes him the instant he can make out the vague silhouette against the spare light of the moon. Something is different, he is aware, but he’d recognize that stance and that walk anywhere.
“Dean!” he yells, smiling and relieved, because he has no idea where he is or what happened in the past couple hours. It feels as if he has taken a long, restful nap and for some reason, he’s woken up in the forest.
He expects Dean to mock him about having to manage to get lost. He wonders how long he has been gone and hopes his brother didn’t worry too much. But there’s no ‘What took you so long bitch?’, not even a gruff ‘You fine, Sammy?’.
Instead, Dean freezes. Sam can feel his stare on him although it is too dark to make out any detailed expressions. So Sam approaches, but he can barely manage to take two steps before Dean is on him and pinning him to the ground. The weight on him is heavy, the earth underneath unyielding. The tackle has caught Sam off guard so he doesn’t have a chance to struggle when his brother hits his head against the grassy ground.
“You motherfucker,” he growls, and Sam wonders whether it is actually Dean who is almost tearing strands of his hair out. He knows his brother’s voice. It has been his constant companion safe for the few years he spent in college. But this voice, although its core is unmistakably Dean, is a lot lower, kinda sounding more like Dad used to.
The figure above him is still grumbling but he is too busy trying to free his face that is squashed against the green to pay too much attention. He starts fighting back, using all the knowledge he has about combat, which is a lot, but the man above him is always stronger, always faster. It confuses Sam even more because this guy’s movements are an awful lot like Dean’s, only better somehow, always one step ahead.
“To have the nerve to wear his face,” the man growls, his anger palpable. There’s a blow and then Sam only senses the hot burning pain where the guy had hit him in the cheekbone.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam manages to mumble out.
The man chuckles so coldly that a shiver runs down his spine. “Funny that you ask that,” he answers and Sam’s fear levels only spike higher when the man pulls out a knife. His struggles become wilder, adrenalin making his movements more powerful, but it’s useless.
He expects his throat to be cut open. Instead the man only makes a shallow cut on the open skin of his neck. It is the first time since he has tackled him down that the man is losing determination. But before Sam can understand what the hell the guy’s doing, he’s already pulled a flask out, pouring all its contents over his face. Holy Water, Sam realizes.
“What the-“
The man stars rummaging in his pockets again but by now Sam is convinced that this is probably just a huge misunderstanding or something. He realizes what the guy was searching for when a flashlight is beaming into his face. It is so bright he has to squeeze his eyes shut.
“Sammy?” And yes, finally, that is his Dean’s voice. Still a little too low but with that worried tone he’d recognize anywhere.
“Yeah dumbass, who’d you think I was?” he suppressed the urge to wince at the pain that was still fiery hot on his cheek. Dean had moved the flashlight a little aside so Sam could open his eyes again.
“My God,” his brother murmured, and Sam had never seen this unique mix of awestruck, confused and incredulous on his expressions.
“Fuck. What the hell happened to your face?” Because now that he inspected Dean a little closer, it was blatantly clear that something was wrong. Dean looked… older. Not the ‘I was worried out of my mind and didn’t sleep or eat for three days’ older, no, this was completely different. For a moment he worried that he had been hit by a curse or something, but was soon distracted when Dean spoke up again.
“Sammy?” His voice was wobbly and shaky, which was weird if Dean would have spoken with his normal voice, let alone with this deep version.
He felt cooling wet on his wound and realized that his brother was crying. “Dean? What-“
But he was interrupted by his brother pulling him against his chest, handling all the weight of his upper body like it was nothing and crushing him against himself. His head was buried in Dean’s shoulder and even if he had wanted to untangle it, he couldn’t have with how firmly his brother was holding him. He could feel Dean running a hand through his hair over and over again. Not that awkward patting thing that he did when he wanted to comfort Sam but not get overly touchy feely in the process.
Confused, Sam pulled his own arms up to run over Dean’s back. He could feel the wet spot on his neck where his brother was crying against. If he hadn’t been so confused and worried, he would’ve probably celebrated in glee about using this scene for ammo for the rest of their lives.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, confusion kinda fucking with his senses, when Dean finally pulled back. His face was wet, but he had the brightest grin on his face that Sam had seen in a long time. It made the weird wrinkles on his face stand out even more, yet made him look unusually boyish and young at the same time.
“Hey Sammy, you want to ride with Baby? She’s just at the side of the road. Want to sit next to me?”
Sam was confused and made sure to show it. “What else we’d be driving in, jerk?”
Whatever he’d said, for some reason it seemed to have made Dean inexplicably happy. He analyzed his sentence, trying to find out what had put him in such a good mood.
“Come on,” his brother’s voice broke, “Come on, bitch. I took good care of her.”
“Dude, what’s going on? Did something happen to you?” Dean helped him to stand up with one hand and laughed.
“Yeah, something sure did happen. Come on, Sammy.” As they walked, Dean’s body was unusually close to him, his hand on Sam’s shoulder, the smile on his face never budging.
“Dude, you’re freaking me out. What happened? Why’re you so weird?”
But Dean didn’t answer his question, just grinned and kept on repeating “Come on, Sammy” over and over again. Finally, he spotted the Impala as they got out of the forest and approached the road. It reassured him to see the car. At least everything about her was just the way he knew and expected it to be. He opened the door and sat side of the bank. For a moment, his brother simply stood outside and watched him sit in the car with a bright grin on his face. What the hell?
Eventually, he took his usual place behind the driver’s seat, leaned back, took a deep breath and turned to watch Sam again.
“Dude, what’s going on? You’re weirding me out. First you ambush me and then you act all-“ He exasperatedly threw his hands up in the air, not sure how to call his brother’s latest strange behavior.
“Hey Sammy,” Dean answered instead, “You hungry? How about we grab a couple of beer, some takeout, some healthy salad even? Whatever you want, hm? Or those girly smoothies and frappucinos you like?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Only if you’ll tell me what the hell is going on.”
Dean honest to God ruffled through his hair then and Sam wondered whether he had been beamed into a parallel universe or something.
“Whatever you want, Sammy.” And the tone of his voice sounded so honest that Sam felt almost embarrassed with how touched he was. He leaned back though and stared out of the window, avoiding Dean’s penetrating stare. “Just start driving, man.”
He did but the silence didn’t last for long.
“Come on, Dean. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Or is- shit.” Sam had to hold himself when his brother suddenly stopped the car on the middle of the road. Thank God the streets were otherwise deserted. “Is there something wrong, Sammy? Does anything hurt? Shit, I should’ve asked sooner, I just- Does your back feel alright?”
Sam rolled his eyes. Whatever this was, it was quickly getting ridiculous. “Everything’s alright, Dean. You sure you didn’t hit your head against something?
Dean ignored his question which hadn’t been rhetoric in the slightest. “Lemme see your back.”
“My back? No, I feel fine. Just-“ he sighed, “Just drive, man. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I feel just peachy, so just-“
“Please, Sammy,” Dean pleaded in such an earnest expression that Sam huffed, and pulled his shirt up so his back was free and turned towards his brother. He could feel Dean’s intense stare before he could feel his calloused fingers running over the centre of his back as if checking for something. “Incredible,” he murmured, and Sam pulled his shirt back down.
“Yeah. Start driving.”
Dean fired the engine and eventually Sam got used to his brother glancing at him every couple seconds as if checking whether he was still there. He sighed and turned the music up. At least, Dean’s taste of music hadn’t magically changed.
“How’s your face, Sammy? Didn’t mean to hurt you, just thought-“ he let the sentence hang in the air. Sam sure was interested what his brother had thought when he had tackled him down, but it wasn’t like Dean was giving him any answers.
“Fine. Just throbs a little.”
“First-aid-kit’s still in the trunk. I’ll look at it when we stop for food, okay?” Sam wondered why the first-aid-kit was ‘still’ in the trunk. Where else would it be?
“Is fine. Don’t need anything, doesn’t even bleed really.”
“No, no, I’ll take a look.” It was as if his brother wasn’t even listening to half of what he was saying, caught up in his mind over God knows what.
He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the trees at the side of the road that were only illuminated by the car light pass by. “Where are we?” His memories were kinda fuzzy.
“Kansas, Lebanon.” Sam frowned.
“Dude, could you stop staring at me? You’re gonna hit something.”
Dean chuckled like it was the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “God, you don’t know how I missed your bitching, Sammy.”
He sighed, feeling like a broken record, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Nothing makes sense.”
Of course, his brother didn’t give him a straight answer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Sam relaxed his body, sinking further into the bank and scrunched his face up in concentration. The memories seemed so far away for some reason. Every time he tried to grasp them they slipped away. “The last clear thing? Breaking out of that prison in Arkansas. Then we went somewhere… I don’t even know, we were hunting something, I think. A djinn?”
Dean nodded. “In Illinois. What else?”
“I don’t- I don’t know. I feel like there are pictures in my head sometimes but-“ he couldn’t even explain what was going on in his mind, it was so confusing. “They’re gone so fast, and I can’t place them.”
His brother ruffled through his hair again, patted his shoulder and Sam was almost getting used to this new strange behavior. “It’s okay, Sammy. Don’t force yourself. Look, we’ll go through that drive-through and get us something to eat, hm?”
Sam felt as if he was being treated like a little child, even more so than usually. Dean’s talking reminded him of mothers asking their babies something with high pitched voices although they knew exactly that the kids wouldn’t answer.
“Isn’t this place a little too expensive?” It seemed to be above the run down fast food joints and diners they normally favored.
Dean grinned. “Only the best for you, Sammy.” He proceeded on ordering whatever must have been on the place’s menu. Burgers, steaks, fish, fries, ice-cream (“That girly strawberry-cheesecake flavor, yeah? I’ll get you that and some Cookie Dough?” - “Dean, I can’t even eat all of that.” - “They have something with caramel, too. You like those caramel toffees right? Yeah, we’ll take the caramel flavored one, too.”).
In the end, the whole backseat was stacked with food and it was so bizarre that Sam couldn’t help but laughing. “I’m gone for like a few hours and you’re insane already.”
Suddenly Dean’s face stopped radiating the same shine as it did before. His smile seemed wistful and sad. “Yeah,” he laughed humorlessly, “Out of my mind since you been gone.”
Eventually they stopped at a grassy field. The starts were pretty visible from there and although the moon wasn’t quite full, it was enough for them not to stumble in the dark. They got all of the takeout boxes out and spread them on the hood of the Impala.
Sam made some space for himself and sat cross-legged next to the many boxes. The engine was warm and although it was May, the night was pretty cool. Normally Dean wouldn’t allow it because he didn’t like Sam’s dirty shoes on the hood of his shiny Baby. His brother didn’t comment on it though. Instead he asked “You cold?”
And before Sam could answer, Dean had already stripped himself of his jacket and was spreading it across his shoulders. “I’m alright Dean, I don’t need-“
“You’re even wearing the same clothes,” his brother interrupted him, but he was more speaking to himself than to his little brother. Sam looked himself up and down. He was wearing plain jeans, a white shirt and a striped button down. They were his clothes and he didn’t know what else Dean was expecting him to wear. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza.
“You’re gonna tell me now what’s going on or what?”
“First eat something. Aren’t you starving?” He didn’t know how Dean knew but yeah, he was starving. So he grumbled a little but took a bite of his slice. His brother grabbed a burger, looked what was underneath the bread and took a bite. It was a simple motion but it was unusual nonetheless. Dean caught him staring.
“I once ate a burger that looked delicious but there was grey goo coming out of it.”
Sam laughed. He hadn’t heard that story before.
“The thing was drugged, too.”
“Your burger was drugged?” He laughed again and this time so hard that some pizza accidently got stuck in his airways. He started coughing and Dean was over in a flash, patting his back. “You okay Sam?”
He nodded, taking deep breaths. “What did they drug the burger with?”
Dean shrugged. “Long story. But my pudding was once drugged, too.”
“You don’t even like pudding.”
“Yeah, I don’t but it was the only thing eatable at that weight-loss-center.”
“You were at a weight-loss-center?”
“A case.”
“With Dad?”
“No. Alone.”
Dean started telling him stories then that Sam had never heard before. His brother was a good story teller. He twisted and bended the truth at times to give everything more drama, but it made the tale only more exciting. It reminded him of when they were kids, when they didn’t have more than a couple of comic books and Dean came up with stories to entertain Sam.
When they had finally finished eating he felt as if he would burst out of his seams, he was that full. Usually he wasn’t one to overeat, but the food had been good and so had been his brother’s stories. He got taken away.
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he groaned and heard his brother laughing in the background. He reached out a cup for him to take. Sam took a sip but scrunched his face up. “Isn’t mine.”
“Your sugary creamy shit isn’t going to help you digest. This will.” It was disgusting because Dean drank his coffee black, without sugar.
“No, thanks.” Instead he decided to wait it out. After about half an hour, he could slowly feel some room in his stomach again.
“Lemme look at your face, Sammy. Completely forgot about it while we were talking.”
Sam fussed, argued that he was just fine, but his brother was taking none of it. His chin was firmly held by Dean’s hand and his face turned to the side so Dean could inspect his cheek.
“I’ll get something to clean that up.” Sam, who knew by now that no arguing would help, let him do it. Dean returned from the trunk with their first-aid-kit, got some gauze and antiseptic and pressed it against his wound. Sam hissed a little from the burn but it didn’t hurt too much.
“Dean,”
“You sleepy, Sam?” He was. He could feel his eyes drooping already.
“Come on, get your ass in the backseat. We’ll drive back tomorrow.”
“Back where?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
So he dragged himself into the backseat and let Dean slip something under his neck. Something didn’t let him fall asleep though. He forced his eyes back open. “Dean?”
“Yeah?” His brother was lying on the front seat, but his back was propped up. “You fine?”
He smiled. “The best I have been in nine years.” It concerned Sam, but his mind was muddled with sleep, already.
“You felt unwell for nine years?”
“Go to sleep, Sammy.”
.