Brave and Crazy Part 1
Title: Brave and Crazy Part 1
Rating: NC-17 (To be Safe)Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, John, Bobby
Word Count:
Warnings: wincest, angst
Notes: Ok, so I didn't write this one at church, and it isn't a pwp, but I do felt that I tried my best on this one. I have been aching to write a story that was more than porn, and also had something to do with the season finale. Yes, I know, this is probably going to be lame and someone else has probably used the title (which belongs to Melissa Etheridge (love her) by the way) but I tried to make it mine, and tried to make it so that it would be worth the post. So, this is what the outcome was. Also I have sprinkled some of Melissa's lyrics throughout, from her various albums.
NOTE:
I won't continue this if no one likes it. I was originally going to post it in one part, but decided that if no one liked it, I wouldn't continue.
Brave and Crazy
- * -
They say the lord giveth,
and the lord taketh away,
Well it was definitly gone when I woke up today.
It was coming. They both knew it was coming, hell they both anticipated it. It was in their each and every look, every conversation, every step of their stride. Dean had made a deal, and they were running out of time. Like trying to catch bubbles in your hand, time was slipping through their fingers and they weren't doing a damn thing. It would almost have seemed normal, what they had been doing, had it not been for the long awkward silences and tense conversations. They would be going from town to town, motel to motel, and looking at the local newspapers for a job. Anything to do, besides twiddle their thumbs. Meanwhile, Sam had been sneaking off to local libraries, doing research about deals, when he could get away.
But Sam had almost had enough. There should've been more...more being said, more being done. They should be meticulously planning Dean's next big escape from hell, but they weren't. Not to mention the lack of jobs. Sam had recently taken to reading the paper after Dean had looked through it, because he had suspected Dean could find a job, just didn't want to go on one. He would understand if Dean wanted to take a break, he really would, but Dean being Dean meant that there was no way in hell he'd ever tell his little brother that.
So when Sam had finally gotten up the nerve to start that particular conversation, Dean suprised him.
"6 months, 22 days, 5 hours, 45 minutes, and 28 seconds."
"What?" Sam said, startled out of his reverie.
"That's...how long...till...you know." Dean replied a little quietly.
Sam was fighting between laughing, and holding back tears. He'd been counting too.
"Yeah, I do know. But -"
"Let's get outta here."
Sam looked at Dean for a moment and then started to cross the room to his duffle, so he could stuff his clothes into it. All it took from Dean these days was a few words and they would be headed to the next town, any time of day or night. Sam had kinda gotten used to it.
"No dork, I meant, let's do something. I'm tired of looking at these walls, and I'll shoot myself in the face if we stay inside any longer."
"What? Watching Lord of the Rings not keeping you busy enough?"
Dean just snorted and grabbed his keys, and they were out the door.
--
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Dean, I don't like not knowing where we are going."
"That's too bad isn't it?"
Sam just sat there and pouted, his bottom lip sticking out a little further than his top lip, as he crossed his arms across his chest.
"Come on Sammy, don't be like that. We're almost there anyway, ok?"
Dean's voice was practically begging Sam to lighten up, and the ever-present feeling of lost time sharpened a little more.
"Yeah, okay." Sam's voice softly replied. He immediately sat up a little straighter and uncrossed his arms.
Sam just watched the scenery go by as they drove a little further into town. He was starting to see a lot more buildings and people, and he looked on with curiousity as they passed them by. It couldn't have been but fifteen minutes later when he noticed that they were slowing down, like they were preparing to turn. His head swiveled around just in time to see it. A magnificent building, the size of some of the more ritzy hotels they had seen, and with big flashing lights like you would see in vegas. Sam was pretty sure this was one of the main attractions of the town, and was slightly suprised. Dean had taken them to a movie theater.
"Dean...Is this -"
"The movies Sammy, don't look so flushed. If I knew all it took for you to get like that was to take you to the movies, I would have done this a long time ago." Dean smirked.
Sam felt his stomach clench, and mumbled a small 'shut up' as they got out of the car. He still was gobsmacked by the theater, and he was pretty sure he looked like a little kid at the moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. When they were younger, they never really went anywhere in town, at least Sam wouldn't remember. All they did when they were anywhere was train, and after that, he would study. Even if he wasn't so focused on school, he doubted he would ever go to the movies. He simply didn't make friends. Too much of a hassle, if they were just going to move in a couple of months, Sam would much rather focus on what was always there for him no matter what town they were in. School.
Air condition blasted them in the face as they walked through electronic sliding doors, and Sam had to close his eyes for a second afterwards.
"Come on Sam! If you don't hurry your ass up, we're gonna miss the show."
Dean sounded as excited as he was, but he was just a little bit better at hiding it.
"You already know what we're seeing?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well I kind of planned this out. I hope you don't mind, but I just thought it would be good to get our mind off of things for a while."
Sam just stared at him for a second and kind of half smiled. "It's fine."
"Want to get something at the concession stand, before we go in?" Dean asked, motioning towards the large kiosk in the middle of the floor.
"Can we afford that?"
"Don't worry about that Sam. I got it."
"Dean-"
"Hush."
and Sam did.
"Hello, welcome to the Palace, what would you like this evening?" A young man in a tux inquired.
"Um..." Sam paused and looked at the menu, it seemed never to end.
"We'll take one large drink, and a medium popcorn, and...mike & ikes." Dean cited.
Sam looked at Dean through wide eyes, he'd just been about to order the mike & ikes.
"How'd you know to get me those?"
Dean just shrugged and gave him a look that said 'I live with you, what do you expect?'. He just shook his head as Dean lead the way to the ticket booth. After being directed to the auditorium that they were supposed to go to, Dean led the way. It was a long, tastefully lit hall, with theaters lining both sides of them. Sam counted ten theaters before Dean abruptly turned to the right, and Sam glanced at the marquee before following his brother in. They were seeing Pirates of the Carribean 3: At World's End.
Sam laughed out loud a little bit. That was so Dean.
"Something funny Sammy?" Dean asked as they took their seats.
"Just the fact that you chose this movie. It's just so....like you."
"Shut up. I hear it's a killer in the box office."
"You hear?"
"You're not the only one who uses the internet."
Sam gaped, "Since when?"
"Since when does it matter?"
Sam just sat back in his chair at that, and looked straight ahead. He wondered exactly what Dean had been looking at...had he seen the research Sam had been doing? Had he seen the tireless entries of planning Sam had done? But the more important question was did he really care? If Dean had seen those things...why hadn't he said anything?
The lights were turning down low, and people were quieting down as previews began to flash across the screen. Sam waited a moment, and then he brought his box of candy up to the light the screen was casting on the audience. He was trying to open the box without being too loud about it, he had almost broken the first half of the seal, when Dean reached over, grabbed the box, yanked the top completely off, and then handed it back to Sam. He just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on the candy. The previews were almost coming to a close, so he was trying to pick out the difference in the colors.
"Sam." Dean whispered a little irritatedly.
"What?"
"What're you doing dude?"
"I'm trying to see the colors."
"Why? Just eat them."
"But how will I know what kind it is if I can't see the color?"
"Sammy, you don't always have to know what's coming next, sometimes it's better if you don't. Like if you can't tell the difference between a pink and a red, and you think you've picked up a pink, but when you eat it, it's the red one? Well if you don't know, then you can't be dissapointed. Plus it's all the more sweet when it turns out to be how you like it."
Sam just nodded and gulped, lowering the box, and resigning to eating it Dean's way. Even as the movie began, he couldn't help but wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if it wasn't completely the candy that Dean was talking about.
- * -
The rope that's wrapped around me,
is cutting through my skin
and the doubts that have surrounded me
are finding their way in.
"Hit me."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Come on, Sam! Hit me."
"I hope you're as lucky as you feel right now." Sam replied, and reared back before slamming the card down in front of Dean. It stuck to his hand for a second before flopping down the short distance to the table.
Dean looked at the card hopefully, before his face fell, and he cursed.
"Looks like I'm all outta luck right now."
"And money too." Sam chuckled as he gathered the ones that sat between them on the table.
"What kind of a pansy ass game is Black Jack anyway? Poker is a real man's game."
"Well you agreed to it, shit head."
"Testy much?" Dean grinned at the innuendo.
"So if you wanted to play a little poker, why didn't you just go out to a bar? I'm sure you could have wiped the floor with the locals and garnerd us a fair amount of money. Not to mention get fucking drunk and find a pretty girl to waste an hour with."
Dean sat quiet for a moment, and Sam wondered if he should regret having said that. But there wasn't time for regrets anymore.
"Just didn't feel like it." Dean replied quietly after a moment. Sam thought he saw a crack through the mask that Dean was wearing these days, one of normalcy. But a second later it was up again, and wearing that version of the 'I'm happy' face.
"So go on, shuffle the cards dealer, my lucks gotta change soon, right?"
"You don't have any money Dean." Sam deadpanned.
"Well...I guess I'll have to earn it back."
"And what if you lose another round?"
"Um...Strip black jack?" Dean joked.
Sam's head snapped up at that, and then he blushed as they just stared at each other. He bent his head hastily to shuffle the cards, and blushed a little more.
"You wish." Sam muttered, hoping Dean couldn't see the shade of his cheeks in the pale lighting of the lamp above them.
--
Ten rounds later, and Sam was on his last lucky streak. He had lost all the previous money won, and he was just about to lose this hand as well.
"What's wrong Sammy? You're not looking so hot now."
"Uh...Hit me." Sam replied, not answering Dean's question.
The moment the card hit the table Sam just knew it was over. He flipped the card. It was a 9 and he had 19 already.
"Shit."
Dean just snickered before his hand automatically went to the spot the last of the cash had previously had been. They both looked at the empty spot for a second, and then back at each other. Slowly, almost as if in a daze, Sam stood up and pushed the chair back with his legs. When his hands went to his belt buckle, Dean's eyes widened a little, and his breath hitched. Sam took off his belt fast, almost making the sound of a whip cracking as it came off him, and Dean licked his lips. If he didn't know any better Sam would say that Dean was getting turned on.
Sam was about to sit down when Dean switched off the lamp, so that the only one light source was the moon coming in from the window.
"Going to bed Sam. Goodnight."
Sam sighed, and followed suit. He chucked off the rest of his clothes except for his boxers and t-shirt and then slid under the covers. He turned on his side away from Dean and made his breathing even out, as if he was falling asleep. But it was quite the opposite. He wasn't sure if he should explore that again. Those feelings that he'd locked away from Dean...from himself. As a kid he was scared shitless. Each time John would have them train together, he would dread it, because at that age he could pop a boner in ten seconds flat. And usually Dean was the cause of it. Fear and shame choked him daily as he tried to forget, and so when Stanford came his way, he knew he had to take the opportunity. To get over Dean was not an easy feat, and not one he could do completely. There was still the occasional grin, or smirk that would make his stomach come alive with butterflies, and his pants tighten a little bit.
Tonight those feelings had come back full force, and it felt like he was that awkward teenager again, unsure of himself and unsure of how to handle these feelings he harbored. But Dean? He couldn't have been turned on right? It's Dean we're talking about after all! Dean, the man-whore, the look at any boobs and flirt with any pretty waitress kind of guy. He...he couldn't...can't possibly...have been..
Just then he heard Dean slip out of bed and pad silently across the carpet to the bathroom, and he listened to the familiar noises of pleasure, after the lock clicked into place.
And Sam didn't sleep for the rest of the night, and got up without protest when Dean ''woke'' him up to go on to the next town.
- * -
Mornings hard, coffee's cold
pretending that the days mean more than getting old
Stale headlines, others drenched in pride
Marching to their drum, with fear standing beside
3 months, 14 days, 18 hours, 59 minutes, and 34 seconds.
Sam typed the words agonizingly slow. Despite the fact that he was usually a lot faster, and better at typing. That was how much time he had left, and he had catalogued the time left, ever since the first time Dean had actually said it aloud. Sam was seriously getting pissed at himself, at the world. He hadn't been finding much in the way of deals at the libraries and on the internet.
He shut the laptop and put it in his carrying case before he scrawled a quick note to Dean, that he would be at the library. He picked up his jacket a minute later and headed out. The walk there was a good one. It gave him time to think about his strategy. What could he do to save Dean? He had promised his brother that he would, and he intended to keep that promise. Even if he was sure that his brother was just humoring him with that little smile he'd given Sam before they took off from the cemetary. Instead of feeling patronized, he felt motivated. He wasn't going to let Dean down. He couldn't.
His feelings of determination were hard to maintain as he sat down with only a couple of mythology books that he'd found even mentioning deals with demons. He wiped hands over his tired eyes, and then went to the corner where there was a courtesy pot of coffee. Although it was still a little early in the morning, the coffee was cold and he winced as he took it all in one gulp.
"Let's see," Sam said aloud, running his fingertip across the pages he'd ear marked, eyebrows tensed in concentration. "To make a deal with a demon, one must travel to a cross road. Once there, gather belongings of yours that --"
Sam sighed, and skimmed ahead.
"Once the deal has been made and sealed, one must wait until the time allotted is over before the prices are exacted."
The paragraph ended there, and Sam slammed the book down in frustration. He flipped through the other books, and huffed when he found little else other than the information he already knew. He then opened his laptop and connected to the free wireless internet that was available. He went to his favorite search engine, which had been constructed in the last year or so, where hunters all put their knowledge and experiences into one place, so that it was like a collective wealth of information for hunters to have access to. They had thought of people that weren't hunters trying to access it, so each hunter had to be signed in through Ellen or Bobby. Then when they were signed on, they had to enter a password that was given specifically for them.
Sam once again searched for the keywords he'd been entering since the site's creation. 'Deal, Demon, Contracts, Loopholes' The familiar sight of the 'search yields no results' text made Sam groan and bang his head against the table several times.
"What's up Sammy?"
Sam sprang up, and shut his laptop.
"Um, nothing. How did you sleep?" Sam replied too quickly.
"Like a baby. Wanna grab something to eat? There's a diner down the road."
"Sure, let's go."
The smell of pancakes hit them before they even entered the building, and Sam grimaced as he felt a sticky substance he hoped was syrup get all over his hands when he opened the door. A waitress came to them, and sat them at a booth. There wasn't anyone around but them and a few older men sitting across the room. It was a 50's style diner, and the waitress even wore a poodle skirt with a pink short sleeve button up. She took their drink orders while chewing noisily on her gum, and then left.
"I'm going to go wash my hands." Sam said disgustedly as he walked towards the nearest 'bathrooms' sign.
The bathroom was a little shabby, grafiti carved and spray painted into the stall walls, and paper towels all over the floor. Sam had seen worse, and at least all the lights were working, and the faucets weren't broken or dripping. He went to the sink and busied himself with getting that sticky feeling off of his hands, and when he reached up to grab a paper towel, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, and his clothes a little too rumpled, he had circles under his eyes. Thinking of this morning's failure, he started to feel the familiar tightening of his chest, and closing of his throat, as the heat spread up through his body, and his vision started blurring.
"Shit." Sam muttered, and sniffed, after wiping his nose on his sleeve. He banged his head against the glass and leaned there for a second. "Fuck. GOD DAMN IT!"
He still was banging his head, rather hard, against the glass when he heard someone come crashing through the door. That meant Dean.
"Sam...Jesus christ, Sammy!"
Dean was pulling him away from the glass and back away from the sinks and he must've tripped in the process, because the next thing he knew, he was on bended knees, Dean's legs around his and his arms around Dean's, which were holding him as he sobbed.
"Sam...shh...it's ok...shh."
"I'm sorry Dean, so sorry..."
"Shh Sam."
"M sorry...so so sorry."
"Come on Sam, it's ok. It's gonna be...ok."
--
They weren't talking at the moment, just Dean driving and Sam looking out the window, shoulders slumped and leaned back while his feet rested on the dash. Breakfast had been sort of awkward. After he cleaned up, they had sat at the booth, occasionally stealing glances at one another when they thought each other hadn't been looking. Dean ate his pancakes, while Sam pushed his waffle around on his plate, and smashed it up a little to make it look like he had eaten more than he had.
As they had left, Sam grabbed one local and one national paper. Now, he grabbed one, and put it in front of his face. It was the national one that he'd grabbed and the way it was spread, was like a wall between him and the world.
'Gay Marriage Ban to be voted on,' 'Hate Crime Bill still undecided,'
'Death tolls mysteriously rising in short bursts,' 'Man drops dead without known cause.'
His interest piqued as he stared at that last headline.
Tom Morris, 29, of Dallas, Texas died earlier this week whilst having lunch with classmates at a local cafe. Reports say that he'd been in the middle of lifting up a glass of water to drink when he dropped it and slumped over. Class mates attending the lunch say that there was no warning, and no sign of any trouble before the incident.
They were noted as saying this ''I don't know what could have happened. We were sitting and having lunch together, and he looked up from his glass with wide eyes, and we looked to see what he was staring at. All we saw was some chick walking away, and then we look back at him, and he's slumped over on the table. Face right in the salad. No one had a grudge against him that I know of, so that can rule out murder. I mean, he was nice to everyone. When he became rich and successful all of a sudden he just gave and gave. He must've given a few thousand to the local churches, at least. Poor guy, didn't know what hit him." Other sources, when questioned about his wealth aquired by the age of 24, by the police, have said that he told them it came from a relative that recently passed away. Police are still investigating the matter.
Sam's eyes widened. It wasn't much, but it was something. A healthy young man with sudden wealth and success, didn't just drop dead like that. At least that's what Sam was hoping.
"Dean! Dean, we need to go to Dallas. Now."
Sam's voice left no room for argument.
So Dean didn't.
- * -
Just oustide my window, I hear,
The late september dogs
and I understand their warning,
and I understand their call
They had made it to Dallas in good time, considering they were driving, and that they had made a few stops. But not good enough for Sam. He needed to get there, and as fast as possible. He didn't even wait until Dean was in their motel room before going to the table and hooking up his computer. He did a search for Tom Morris in Dallas, and tried to find a list of relatives. He went to the police directory online, and after a few moments, had it hacked and was searching for memo's on the investigation.
He struck gold. There was a list of all the people he was close to, and their addresses. he would start with the family, get a little background on him, posing as a journalist. Then he would go to the classmates, get the story of how he was with them, and what they thought of his money...he would also try and see if he could get them to identify any of the known demons that made deals, or heard of any strange road trips that Tom might have went on before he gained his wealth.
That would give him a general idea of the situation.
He looked down at the list...It was late, and these people would be in bed anyway. He sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face.
"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Dean's voice was light, but there was an edge to it.
"Nothing."
"Sam, you collapse on the bathroom floor, and then you have us drive to Dallas? What the fuck is going on, I think you at least owe me that."
Sam looked at him. Yeah he did owe Dean.
"I think I found a lead. Something that could help with your situation."
"Really?" Dean kept his face blank, and his voice flat, but Sam could see a small spark in his eyes.
"Yeah. There was this article in the paper about some guy who gained wealth and success a little too quickly, and then died 5 years later. Sound familiar?"
"But...that doesn't mean-"
"No, but it's better than what we've had so far."
"You've had, you mean."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing. Just go to bed Sam, there's no lead you can follow this late at night."
"Yeah, Fine. Goodnight Dean."
"Goodnight Sam."
--
Sam had used his trick of evening out his breathing, as was becoming habit, until Dean thought he was safely asleep and then got up out of his bed. He crossed the short distance to the window and looked out at the night. The part of Dallas they'd decided to stay in was a little bit more out of the way, and he could see city lights a little bit farther in the distance.
He sighed and braced his hands on the windowsill, as he looked out while breathing fresh air. Suddenly, he was startled when he heard a low deep growl. He had heard it again, and then it was followed moments later by a loud howl. He couldn't see it, but he could imagine a lone dog in the parking lot crying up to the moon. He looked up at the luminous ball, and sighed. Sam could identify with that dog. He took it as an Omen...a warning.
"Sam, go to sleep. You have still have some time." Dean whispered groggily from his bed.
"Yeah, ok Dean."
He heard sheets rustling and then crawled back into bed.
"Not enough time. Not nearly enough."
--
Sam was up just as the sun was breaking through the blinds of the window, and he immediately shot up and got busy getting dressed. He could hear the groan that Dean gave from his corner of the room. After combing a hand through his disheveled hair, he turned from the mirror and stared for a second.
"Go back to sleep Dean, I'll be back later on tonight."
"Tonight?" Dean questioned, peering through only one open eye.
"I've got a lot of sources to hit." Sam shrugged and turned towards the door.
"Sam."
He stopped with his hand on the door knob.
"Yeah Dean?"
"Just don't be...too dissapointed...if...you know." Sam knew. But he was tired, and he wanted to stop pretending this wasn't happening.
He turned from the door, determination set in his eyes. "If what Dean?"
"If...If...if it's not the color you expect it to be."
Sam opened his mouth and then closed it again. Opened it, then closed it.
"Whatever."
With that, Sam left his brother to himself while he figured this whole thing out.
--
The first sources he hit were the relatives. He figured they could tell him about the wealth, or at least what he was up to before he'd died.
"Hello ma'am," Sam began with an award winning smile, as he stepped inside the alcove to the house of an older and frail looking woman. "My name is, er Frank, and I'm a reporter for the Dallas Star?" Sam asked as if the woman should know this particular publication.
She looked at him suspiciously for a moment and a few gray hairs escaped from the bun held up with a rubber band behind her head. She furrowed her brow as if trying to remember the newspaper itself. She shrugged her eyebrows in resignation, and then took a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it.
"Ok. What do you want?" She asked, blowing smoke in the air above them.
"Well I was hoping -"
"I know what you were hoping. You were hoping you could charm your way into my house and get a few paragraphs for your little paper. Well no, I'm not interested."
She was turning to go and Sam was about to give up when he remembered a note next to this particular woman's name. Avoid mention of daughter Selma. Bad money issues. Mother thought she was a theif, stealing even from her.
"Oh no ma'am" he said quickly, "I was just coming by to confirm some information that Selma had giving me earlier this week. She'd said Tom had gotten wealthy because he'd stolen some of your retirement funds. Such a sad story she'd given me. The things you must've gone through. But If you're busy-"
She looked mortified, and her cigarette dropped onto the cement.
"That slutty sleep around sue! I should've known she would use something like this to garner favor in the media's eyes. That information she gave you was surely and most absolutely 100% wrong. You publish that and I'd have to sue you for slander. Now if you want the truth you better come inside, and quick, before I change my mind."
Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and followed the woman the report had said was named Barb. The house was dark, with old brown shag carpeting from the seventies and off white walls. There were many floral patterns around the room on various pieces of furniture and decoration. Sam wondered if this is what a typical older woman's home looked like on the inside. Then he noticed many signs of religious beliefs. An iron cross, about the size of both his feet put together, hanging on the wall. A bible sitting on the couch near a chair, opened as if having just been read.
He quickly dropped his musings and adopted an air of polite interest and professionalism. He took out a pad of paper and a pen and sat in the rickety rocking chair she had motioned to, while she sat on a covered couch. There was yarn everywhere, and a set of reading glasses sitting by a lamp on a small coffee table in between them.
"So." She began. "I suppose you want me to tell you where he did exactly get that money from."
Sam waited as she paused to light up another smoke.
"Well that I couldn't tell you accurately, because I'm not entirely sure on that myself. He never really told me for sure, but it wasn't how my idiot daughter told you he got it. That I do know is a fact."
Smoke curled around in lazy circles above her head, spiraling from the dangling cancer stick.
"Anyhow, he came home one friday night in June, happy as a hog and with this big grin on his face. Like a cat who just ate a particularly fat canary. He'd fallen on rough times recently, had some gambling promblems and so I let him stay with me till he got back on his feet. I figured he'd been drinking that night, and went to get a washcloth ready, as had become ritual."
She coughed, and when it stopped, she continued.
"Well he stops me, and I look at him. 'What has gotten into you?' I'd asked him, and he just said 'I'm movin out ma.' I says to him 'How is that possible, you aint even got enough money to buy a candy bar down at the drug store.' He just grins that grin again, and right then my bones chilled and my hand went straight to the necklace he gave me for my 65th birthday."
Sam looked at the necklace she held out in front of her chest. It was a cross. Sam flinched, and she put it away, eyes like slits.
"I says, 'How did you get the money Tom? You been gamblin' again?' I was expecting a straight answer from him, but he didn't give me one, just was talkin' bout all the things he was going to do with that money. I turned him around and I looked him square in the eye and I said 'Son, however you got that money, I don't think the lord would approve of it, and I want you to give it back as soon as you possibly can. Ya hear me?'. He just said 'I can't.' Simple as that, like he made a deal with the devil himself or something."
Sam shivered. close enough.
Barb took another drag before continuing, putting out the butt in the ash tray.
"Soon he did move out. Went back to college, was on the track to getting a degree even. It was like his life was suddenly just made of gold. He started going to church with me again though. That was suprising...he'd never been inclined towards church...or God for that matter. But he donated a lot of his time and money towards several of the churches nearby here. So I just stopped worrying about where the money came from and thanked the Lord above he was using it for all the right things."
"And you're sure he didn't say where it came from?" Sam asked, a little too eagerly.
"He'd given up gambling, he was going to church, getting an education!" Barb snapped, "What did you expect? I thought I could afford to let it go, just chalk it up to a blessing in disguise."
Sam got up abruptly.
"I have to go ma'am. Thank you for your time. I'll be sure not to get the details wrong in my story."
Sam was almost to the door when she spoke. Judging by the sound of her voice, she was coming closer.
"You know, I read the bible. The Devil is pretty crafty, and I'm sure his minions are too. But if you were really intent on making me believe you were a journalist, you would've taken notes."
Sam heard a slight clinking sound coming from the wall, and turned slowly towards her, and then fell to the ground as pain exploded in his brain, white hot, as he realized she'd taken the iron cross to his head.
"OUT!" She cried at him, like a woman fighting for her life, raising the cross for another blow. "OUT YOU DEMON OUT! THIS IS A HOUSE OF THE LORD! YOU SHALL NOT TAKE ME! YOU SHALL NOT-"
His instincts kicking in, he kicked her feet out from under her, and then rolled away. He grabbed some nearby yarn and pounced. She struggled ferociously as he bound her wrists, tighter and tighter. Wiping the blood running down his face he stared into her eyes, steely.
"What are you talking about?" he thought of Dean, and his limited time. "WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME?"
"You, you evil wretched creature, I know you came here to quiet me down. I suspected you weren't of this world, but knew it when you flinched at my cross. You knew that I knew about the deal, and you wanted to shut me up! Well in the name of the Lord, peace be still! YOU STOLE MY SON FROM ME! YOU EVIL-"
Sam pinched a nerve in her neck and she stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide and then she slumped into relaxation. He rubbed at his face again. Now it was confirmed, Tom had made a deal, and his mother had suspected something. Despite the ache in his forehead he grinned. He was getting somewhere. He had narrowed down a time frame, and confirmed the deal. Now he just needed to know the finer details. What he did with his time, who he hung out with. He needed to know if this was the same demon who made Dean's deal. He would go from there.
He left the house after setting her in a chair. Her bible near her, and some yarn and needles placed in her lap. He hoped she would wake up and think it had all been a dream. He carefully scanned the room making sure to place everything else exactly as it had been. When he closed the door he felt almost ashamed. Would have been, if this wasn't all for Dean.
With that thought in his mind, he set out for Dallas University dorms, in search for his answers.
One way or another, he was going to get them.
--
"JESUS, Sammy what the hell happened?"
"Nothing," Sam mumbled, tripping through the door.
"Sam, that is not nothing!"
"Fuck off ok? It's just a little scratch. A part of the investigation got a little rough. Nothing big."
He flicked on the television to the news channels to see if his earlier incident had been reported to the police. He noted thankfully that the news was just starting.
"A part of the investigation? Nothing big? Sam this is your fucking life! What the fuck happened?"
"His mother got a little...rough." Sam allowed himself a small chuckle. "Thought I was a demon. She took a cross to my head."
"What?"
"I got some answers Dean." Sam looked away from the television to shoot Dean a small smile from his spot on the bed.
"Well good to fucking know." Frustration caked his every word.
"Look, I found out that he did make a deal with a demon at least! And her description pretty much narrowed down a time frame. All of this forms solid supporting themes to suggest that we're on to something."
"Yeah? Whoopdy-fuckin-do. Sam, what does that tell us? Yeah you confirmed it was a demon, but what can you do about it? The guy is dead! He didn't escape. What do you expect to FUCKING LEARN?" Dean's voice rose each word until he exploded at the end.
Sam was quiet for a moment.
"Exactly Sam. Exactly."
"I have to do this Dean. You know I do. I can't just let her...fucking..."
Sam choked up a little bit, and Dean sighed, sitting down on the bed.
"Do you want to know why I haven't been doing anything Sam? Because I know there's nothing that can be done. Hell I knew that when I made the deal. So why can't you just accept that I did this so I could save you. I did it because I couldn't imagine living a life without you, and one year with you is worth more than an eternity in hell. You'll be safe Sam. That's what matters."
"You know what Dean? FUCK YOU. You talk about how you just 'couldn't live a life without me' and how 'I'll be alright and that's all that matters' but when you say those things are you actually listening to yourself? For someone so giving you sure are fucking selfish! WHAT ABOUT ME DEAN! I'm going to be ALONE when your time is up. DID YOU STOP AND THINK ABOUT THAT? DID YOU THINK ABOUT HOW IT WOULD RIP ME APART WITHOUT YOU BY MY SIDE?"
Sam was breathing heavy, standing now, and looking at a stunned Dean in the pale blue light of the television glow.
Sam just scoffed and walked towards the door.
"I'm leaving. Good fucking riddance. Asshole."
He grabbed his duffel and walked out the door. Not sure of a destination, not really caring, he let his feet carry him wherever they wished.
- * -
I wonder what you're doin'
in the night out there
Is a sad summer breath tangled in your hair?
Can you hear the lonely engines screaming through the town?
There's no where to run
when the darkness comes down
A couple of hour later, and Sam found himself looking up at the stars and spinning in a slow, slow circle. He had stopped walking and jumped the fence of a neighborhood playground, and was currently on the merry-go-round. The only sounds were him breathing, and the rusty creaks of the metal contraption. Sam knew he would go back, duffel in hand, to the motel and they wouldn't talk about this. Chalk it up to nerves and move on. Dean pretending, and Sam researching.
He almost didn't catch it until the moment it was too late, the roaring engine of an old car with way too many fucking miles on it. It came to a screeching stop, and Sam turned his head, lazily and expectantly. Sure enough there was the familiar sheen of black metal underneath the nearest street lamp. Sam sighed and just turned his gaze back up to the sky. Sam couldn't bring himself to be angry that Dean had found him. Or even curious how.
"Mind if I join you?"
Dean didn't wait for an answer. Just lay down beside his brother and stared right along with him.
"How'd you find me?" Sam asked, not really caring about an answer, just not wanting silence.
"Something about broken childhoods or something on Oprah. Made me think of the stupid shit you would do. I figured I'd visit all the libraries first and then the parks."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't wrong, was I."
Even now Sam could just see the smirk that must be adorning Dean's face.
"Sam..."
"Look I'm sorry Dean, ok?"
"No, No you're not. You shouldn't have to be. Because as much of a pissant as you were being, you were right."
Sam shot up, and looked down at Dean with wide eyes. "Ok who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?"
"Shut up." Dean half-smiled and punched Sam's arm at the middle so he was forced to drop back down on his back. "Seriously though Sam...It was selfish of me. I wasn't thinking about what your life would be like after my time was up. And as much as I know it's going to kill you. I can't bring myself to regret it."
There was a silence for a little while. Neither wanting to continue, but knowing that they couldn't stop now. Especially Sam...Dean might not be this open again. Might not get the chance to be.
"So, what were you thinking about then?"
"Hmm?"
"When you made the deal. What were you thinking about?"
"You."
Sam was about to object to that.
"Your face...your smile...the way you can always win me over with those puppy dog eyes. The way you would laugh when I enjoyed my pie just a little too much. How you always seemed to be on top of a job when I needed you to be. The way the sun looked when it was coming up in the morning, and moving softly across your face. How when you touched me, hugged me, fucking breathed near me I would lose myself in that and wonder when you grew up so much, and how much I'd missed. How I never wanted to forget that you liked your coffee with three creams and four sugars, even if that officially made it not coffee anymore. I never wanted to forget what you looked like when we had just gotten a job done, or after stepping out of the shower even, and explaining that you'd used all the hot water. How I never wanted to live to hold you dead in my arms, laying slack against me, ever again."
"De..Dean" Sam choked.
"Don't be such a girl sammy." Dean whispered.
Suddenly Dean didn't see sky above him, he saw Sam. He looked into his eyes for a moment before he realized that his brother was lowering his face towards him.
"Sam-"
Any protest he might have had was forgotten as dry lips rubbed together, only touching feather light against each other. Their eyes were still open, and they were staring. Staring into eternity. Sam closed his eyes halfway and leaned down the rest of the way, upper body now splayed across Dean's, and legs curled up beside them as they still spun slowly in circles.
The kiss was slow, sensual. Taking each minute to remind each other that they loved one another, to tell each other that even if things weren't going to be ok, they had right now. They had this moment at least. The kiss never faltered, nor did it speed up. It just faded. Sam lifted his head a fraction of an inch, and looked down into his big brother's eyes. Searching for something.
Dean's face remained carefully blank. Any emotion showing at this critical juncture could be a weakness. Something to be used against him.
"Dean.." Sam whined, his face becoming troubled.
"We just shared the most amazing kiss and you're closing up on me?"
"Sam." Dean's brokenness coming through in that one word.
"You can't tell me you didn't feel that, Dean. You can't tell me you didn't want that."
Dean closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again his face was one of pain.
"We live all of our lives together, and it takes my looming demise for a kiss like that?"
They both kind of laughed at that, and Sam's vision started to blur.
"I'm sorry Dean." He didn't know how many times he could say it, and hope that Dean knew he meant it.
"It wasn't just you Sammy. I kept it secret too."
"Yeah," Sam laid his head down on Dean's chest, if only to hear his heartbeat. "But that's not all I'm sorry for. I'm sorry for the fight, and the way I've been acting..."
"I know Sam."
"It's just...I can't just let this happen Dean. If that means getting knocked around a bit, then so be it. So long as you stay right where you belong."
"And where's that?" Some traces of seriousness gone, and a lightness back in Dean's voice.
"Here by my side." Sam mumbled into Dean's neck.
Dean just snorted. "Girl."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Part 2
A/N: Editing this thing for italics and bold was a bitch. lol.