While These Visions Did Appear (8/8)
He knew where he was as soon as he opened his eyes. He sat up slowly in bed, taking in the ratty motel and the way his bag was set on the edge of the table. His bag and no other. He looked at the other bed that was still clean, covers neatly folded in place. In the trash can he could see the tops of beer bottles and he knew instinctively it wasn’t the kind he and Sam drank. His heart sank, but he couldn’t handle it just yet.
Instead, he got up and showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, following his usual morning routine. He checked his messages and set out his gun, cleaning it thoroughly before moving on to his back up weapon. He ate breakfast and then by ten he was back to lying on the bed.
Sam wasn’t there and Sam wasn’t coming.
His last memory was of falling as he tried to protect Sam, his brother’s weight carrying them both heavily to the floor.
His first memory was of carrying Sam away from a fire when he wasn’t big enough to carry the weight.
Somehow, the weight of his relationship with Sam always seemed to get in the way.
He tried hard not to think about those two years as the day rolled by but there was a lot of time between the stilted visits with Bobby and John. He knew Sam was alright, knew that he was still close by and that John and Bobby were looking after him. He didn’t ask, couldn’t ask after his brother, but he knew. After John’s visit the first night he told them he was fine, to pack up and take Sam back to Bobby’s until his head was back on right but he didn’t have much faith in them following his orders.
He didn’t answer his phone for the next two days and when someone knocked on the door he ignored it, turned onto this side and pretended to sleep when someone came in anyway. Sam never came to see him, never tried to straighten out the mess they’d managed to make of their relationship, so there was no reason to get out of bed.
On the third day, Dean did get out of bed. Sam wasn’t coming to him and he knew that Sam wasn’t going to leave either. Dean took the decision out of his hands. His brother needed space, needed the time to sort things in his head and staying in a crappy motel wasn’t helping him any, so Dean got ready, packed his gear up, and took off in the Impala. He could see Bobby and his dad in the rearview mirror, watching his tires spin as he made headway to the nearest interstate but no one tried to call his phone.
He could understand that. He was supposed to take care of his brother; he was supposed to protect him from the monsters of the world, from people like him who took advantage of the confused and scared.
He drove for two days with no destination until he found himself back in the beginning, a dumpy motel in Bismark Grove where he’d woken over two years ago next to a strange boy. He asked for the same room and got it, spent the next day staring at the ceiling, remembering every night he’d lain beside his brother, wanting so much but knowing on some level that he couldn’t cross that line. Wanting and knowing and failing anyway because Sam had always been able to find the weak chinks in his armor.
He didn’t lock the door and it was no surprise when it opened late that night as the moon hung high in the sky. He didn’t say anything as Sam crawled into the bed beside him, slid right between the sheets, rested his head on Dean’s heart, but fell into dreamless sleep.
They weren’t talking. Sam didn’t say anything and Dean didn’t either, their only communication was caveman style as they grunted and groaned their way through the drive back to Dad and Bobby. Sam made the call, telling them it was time to get it out. Dean thought that was a bit unnecessary really, because what part of their relationship hadn’t been outed when they hadn’t known?
The diner was nice enough. The waitress was friendly and flirted with them even when it was obvious they weren’t the best of company. John and Bobby showed up a few minutes late and Dean could see from the tension between them that they’d been fighting again.
Dean thought back, remembering the snippets of fights, especially the last one, right before everything was lost and he finally put it all together. “You son of a bitch.” The other three looked at him in surprise. He was normally the least likely to break an uncomfortable silence. “You did this,” Dean accused John. “You did this to us, left us alone with no memory and no way to survive.”
“Dean, no. It wasn’t like that. I did do a spell, but it was just supposed to keep the people who wanted to hurt you from knowing where you were.”
“How does that go to us losing our memory then?” Sam asked, picking up on Dean’s agitation and sharing it.
“I didn’t know the language so I had to have it translated. Apparently there was a phrase he misused.”
“The spell was supposed to keep you from being known by anyone who meant you harm.” Bobby filled in. “What it did was to keep you from being known by anyone who could harm you.”
“So every person on the planet?”
“Yeah,” Bobby answered, throwing a scowl John’s way.
“And you did that without bothering to ask us? Christ, Dad. You had no right!”
“Don’t talk to me about rights Dean. I know you took care of Sam those two years, but I was trying to protect him from something bigger.”
“Don’t bother,” Dean said as he stood up. “You don’t need to worry about us anymore.”
“Dean, sit down.”
“No. I’m done. You have no idea what you did. You have no idea what it was like to wake up with nothing, not even a name. You have no idea how close we came to going to the cops in those days. You have no idea…”
He felt a hand on his wrist and looked down to see Sam nodding, a sad, determined smile on his lips. “He has no idea. And he can’t.” There were so many things going on behind those eyes and Dean wanted to hide from it or run straight to it, he wasn’t sure which.
Dean nodded though because Sam was right. No matter what they decided to do, it would be the two of them against the world. Whether they picked up as lovers, or simply took to the road as brothers, they would still be themselves and John would never know how far he’d broken his boys.
When he walked out and got in the Impala, the passenger door pulled open and Sam slid in place beside him. They didn’t get far on the road before the last few days caught up with him again and he decided to pull in. They got a room and fell into their usual nightly routine, even if it was still early.
When Sam got into bed, Dean sat on the edge for a while. He felt Sam shifting restlessly and then his brother was sitting up, staring at him.
“You did but slumber here, while these visions did appear.”
“What?” Dean knew what it was. His mind kept replaying the afternoon at Bobby’s, the fight bobby and John had gotten into before their father decided to do a spell that had thrown them out into the world alone. He remembered Sam reading as the argument had started, but he couldn’t help but ask.
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.”
Sam pulled Dean close and Dean didn’t fight it. “You helped me learn that.”
“Yeah I remember Sammy.”
“Tell me what you want Dean. You want this to go away, to be nothing more than a stupid fantasy, then it will.”
He could see the way it was warring in Sam, the same way it was in his own chest. It nearly killed him to think of it that way, but he knew what Sam was doing, what he was trying to salvage. Jesus, his little brother had grown in the last two years without a big brother to keep him in line.
“If you want… more … I meant what I said the other night.”
Dean sat there for a moment longer, then looked over at Sam. It wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought it should be, falling in love with his brother.
He pressed his lips to Sam’s, running his hand through his brother’s hair and pulling him just where he wanted him. He kissed across his jaw and up his temple until he had his lips pressed to Sam’s ear. As he pulled his brother to him he laughed softly, letting out one last line before letting sleep embrace them both.
“Lord what fools these mortals be.”
Instead, he got up and showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, following his usual morning routine. He checked his messages and set out his gun, cleaning it thoroughly before moving on to his back up weapon. He ate breakfast and then by ten he was back to lying on the bed.
Sam wasn’t there and Sam wasn’t coming.
His last memory was of falling as he tried to protect Sam, his brother’s weight carrying them both heavily to the floor.
His first memory was of carrying Sam away from a fire when he wasn’t big enough to carry the weight.
Somehow, the weight of his relationship with Sam always seemed to get in the way.
He tried hard not to think about those two years as the day rolled by but there was a lot of time between the stilted visits with Bobby and John. He knew Sam was alright, knew that he was still close by and that John and Bobby were looking after him. He didn’t ask, couldn’t ask after his brother, but he knew. After John’s visit the first night he told them he was fine, to pack up and take Sam back to Bobby’s until his head was back on right but he didn’t have much faith in them following his orders.
He didn’t answer his phone for the next two days and when someone knocked on the door he ignored it, turned onto this side and pretended to sleep when someone came in anyway. Sam never came to see him, never tried to straighten out the mess they’d managed to make of their relationship, so there was no reason to get out of bed.
On the third day, Dean did get out of bed. Sam wasn’t coming to him and he knew that Sam wasn’t going to leave either. Dean took the decision out of his hands. His brother needed space, needed the time to sort things in his head and staying in a crappy motel wasn’t helping him any, so Dean got ready, packed his gear up, and took off in the Impala. He could see Bobby and his dad in the rearview mirror, watching his tires spin as he made headway to the nearest interstate but no one tried to call his phone.
He could understand that. He was supposed to take care of his brother; he was supposed to protect him from the monsters of the world, from people like him who took advantage of the confused and scared.
He drove for two days with no destination until he found himself back in the beginning, a dumpy motel in Bismark Grove where he’d woken over two years ago next to a strange boy. He asked for the same room and got it, spent the next day staring at the ceiling, remembering every night he’d lain beside his brother, wanting so much but knowing on some level that he couldn’t cross that line. Wanting and knowing and failing anyway because Sam had always been able to find the weak chinks in his armor.
He didn’t lock the door and it was no surprise when it opened late that night as the moon hung high in the sky. He didn’t say anything as Sam crawled into the bed beside him, slid right between the sheets, rested his head on Dean’s heart, but fell into dreamless sleep.
They weren’t talking. Sam didn’t say anything and Dean didn’t either, their only communication was caveman style as they grunted and groaned their way through the drive back to Dad and Bobby. Sam made the call, telling them it was time to get it out. Dean thought that was a bit unnecessary really, because what part of their relationship hadn’t been outed when they hadn’t known?
The diner was nice enough. The waitress was friendly and flirted with them even when it was obvious they weren’t the best of company. John and Bobby showed up a few minutes late and Dean could see from the tension between them that they’d been fighting again.
Dean thought back, remembering the snippets of fights, especially the last one, right before everything was lost and he finally put it all together. “You son of a bitch.” The other three looked at him in surprise. He was normally the least likely to break an uncomfortable silence. “You did this,” Dean accused John. “You did this to us, left us alone with no memory and no way to survive.”
“Dean, no. It wasn’t like that. I did do a spell, but it was just supposed to keep the people who wanted to hurt you from knowing where you were.”
“How does that go to us losing our memory then?” Sam asked, picking up on Dean’s agitation and sharing it.
“I didn’t know the language so I had to have it translated. Apparently there was a phrase he misused.”
“The spell was supposed to keep you from being known by anyone who meant you harm.” Bobby filled in. “What it did was to keep you from being known by anyone who could harm you.”
“So every person on the planet?”
“Yeah,” Bobby answered, throwing a scowl John’s way.
“And you did that without bothering to ask us? Christ, Dad. You had no right!”
“Don’t talk to me about rights Dean. I know you took care of Sam those two years, but I was trying to protect him from something bigger.”
“Don’t bother,” Dean said as he stood up. “You don’t need to worry about us anymore.”
“Dean, sit down.”
“No. I’m done. You have no idea what you did. You have no idea what it was like to wake up with nothing, not even a name. You have no idea how close we came to going to the cops in those days. You have no idea…”
He felt a hand on his wrist and looked down to see Sam nodding, a sad, determined smile on his lips. “He has no idea. And he can’t.” There were so many things going on behind those eyes and Dean wanted to hide from it or run straight to it, he wasn’t sure which.
Dean nodded though because Sam was right. No matter what they decided to do, it would be the two of them against the world. Whether they picked up as lovers, or simply took to the road as brothers, they would still be themselves and John would never know how far he’d broken his boys.
When he walked out and got in the Impala, the passenger door pulled open and Sam slid in place beside him. They didn’t get far on the road before the last few days caught up with him again and he decided to pull in. They got a room and fell into their usual nightly routine, even if it was still early.
When Sam got into bed, Dean sat on the edge for a while. He felt Sam shifting restlessly and then his brother was sitting up, staring at him.
“You did but slumber here, while these visions did appear.”
“What?” Dean knew what it was. His mind kept replaying the afternoon at Bobby’s, the fight bobby and John had gotten into before their father decided to do a spell that had thrown them out into the world alone. He remembered Sam reading as the argument had started, but he couldn’t help but ask.
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.”
Sam pulled Dean close and Dean didn’t fight it. “You helped me learn that.”
“Yeah I remember Sammy.”
“Tell me what you want Dean. You want this to go away, to be nothing more than a stupid fantasy, then it will.”
He could see the way it was warring in Sam, the same way it was in his own chest. It nearly killed him to think of it that way, but he knew what Sam was doing, what he was trying to salvage. Jesus, his little brother had grown in the last two years without a big brother to keep him in line.
“If you want… more … I meant what I said the other night.”
Dean sat there for a moment longer, then looked over at Sam. It wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought it should be, falling in love with his brother.
He pressed his lips to Sam’s, running his hand through his brother’s hair and pulling him just where he wanted him. He kissed across his jaw and up his temple until he had his lips pressed to Sam’s ear. As he pulled his brother to him he laughed softly, letting out one last line before letting sleep embrace them both.
“Lord what fools these mortals be.”