The Flames Consume From Within (3/5)
Master Post Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Even from 20 feet away, Sam could hear the argument that was going on behind Dean’s door. The words were indistinct, but he’d heard Dean pissed off enough to know that one of the voices was his. The other was deeper, and Sam had a sinking feeling that he was about to walk in on a family feud.
Not wanting to just walk in, he knocked on the door. The voices immediately cut off. After a few beats, the door was opened from the inside, and Sam found himself faced with Dean’s father. John was red-faced, obviously barely containing his anger.
A quick glance at Dean told him that Dean was in no better shape. He was pissed and glaring daggers at his father. It was evident that the overexertion of yelling had exhausted him, but he was determined not to let it show.
Sam tried smile reassuringly at John, then tentatively asked if he could come in. John looked over his shoulder at Dean for a second before he nodded and stepped aside to let Sam in the room. “This isn’t over, Dean,” he ground out before he stalked out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.
Dean flinched at the sound of the door, then immediately slumped back against his pillows, looking completely drained. Sam gave him a questioning look as he made his way over to the empty chair beside the bed, immediately slipping his hand into Dean’s and linking their fingers.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a kiss over the back of Dean’s hand. “That didn’t sound good.”
Dean sighed, closing his eyes. “With Dad, it’s never good,” came the quiet reply. “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that.”
Sam scooted the chair closer to the head of the bed and leaned forward to kiss Dean softly, smiling when Dean returned it. “You wanna tell me about it?” he offered as he pulled away.
Dean opened his eyes and turned his face entirely to Sam. He had a sad smile on his face. “Is there any way I can get out of doing that?” he teased.
Sam laughed and shook his head. He knew how much Dean hated talking things out. But considering the scene he’d just walked in on, he knew that Dean would offer him some explanation.
Dean sighed. “Fine, okay,” he mumbled, squeezing Sam’s hand in his. “But you’re not going to like this.”
Sam nodded, motioning Dean on silently even as the bottom completely dropped out of his stomach.
“Well. The doctor was in here this morning,” he started hesitantly.
“And?”
Dean turned his head on the pillow, looking out the window and resolutely not at Sam. “They want to keep me here for a couple more days and then I can go home.”
Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t mention how excited he was at the news, because Dean still looked uneasy. There was still more to the story. And he just knew that it had something to do with what he’d seen in Dean’s interaction with Bobby from a few days before.
Dean looked back at Sam before he spoke again. And when he did, his voice was quiet, unsure, small. He sounded like a lost child, and Sam wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“I’ll need someone around to help me for a couple weeks. My back’s pretty messed up, and when you factor in the broken leg…Well. Showers, getting around. It’s not going to be easy…”
Dean trailed off and looked away again. Sam was fairly certain that Dean had the beginnings of tears in his eyes and just didn’t want him to see.
“Dean?” he ventured. “You’ve gotta talk to me. I’m not seeing what your dad could get so mad about…”
When Dean turned back to Sam again, there weren’t any tears, but his eyes looked sadder than Sam had ever seen them. And, after some of the crap they’d been through, that was saying something.
“He wants me to go back to Kansas,” he whispered. “Permanently. He thinks that I should have gotten the big city thing out of my system by now, and apparently, it’s obvious that I can’t look out for myself.”
“Oh,” Sam murmured, looking down at the bed, where his hand was gripping Dean’s tight enough to turn his own knuckles white. “I, uh…”
“Hey,” Dean said in a stronger voice, pushing Sam’s chin up with their combined hands. “I’m not going. I told him that, and that’s why he got pissed.”
Sam nodded; the mere prospect of losing Dean after he’d gotten through the fire had his throat closing up. Dean was the first person that had really cared about him and it might all be ripped away from him because of him.
“Sammy, don’t.” Dean’s voice hardly registered to Sam. “Please, don’t.”
It was the breaking of Dean’s voice that did him in, and he finally focused his gaze on Dean’s face. He was surprised to find Dean smiling, even if it was faint. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this. I’ll say it again: my being in the hospital is not your fault. I made the choice to run in after you. I did. Me. Okay? It was stupid of you to go back in, yes, but my decision was even worse because I distracted you. You heard me calling after you, and you couldn’t hear what was happening around you. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t not back you up, you know? I had to try to protect you, and I just…”
Dean trailed off and took a deep, shaky breath, silent tears trailing down his cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away with his other hand, bandages coming away streaked. “My dad’s behavior isn’t your fault, either. He just…he doesn’t understand what would be keeping me here. And I’m just too scared to tell him about you. I’m afraid that if I did, that would just add fuel to the fire, make him more determined to whisk me back to Kansas. I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry I can’t -”
“No, no, hey. Dean,” Sam whispered, talking over Dean and stopping his words. “It’s okay. I understand not wanting to tell your dad that you’re gay. My aunt’s reaction was bad enough. I want you to do it when you’re ready, not because you need to prove a point.”
He reached out and smoothed Dean’s hair back from his forehead, his hand lingered on the side of his face, thumb smoothing over the raised, pink line on Dean’s jaw. “I love you, you know that?” he said quietly. “So much.”
Dean smiled then, a watery version of the real thing but it was good enough for Sam.
* * *
“You feeling okay?” Sam asked as he sat down on the other side of the station’s kitchen table from Dean with a bowl of cereal. “You don’t look so good.”
Dean just smirked, lifting his gaze from the paper enough to wink over at Sam before he looked back down. “I always look good, Sam.”
Sam snorted. “You just keep telling yourself that, stud,” he said, pausing for a minute to chew a spoonful of Lucky Charms, looking at Dean with narrowed eyes. “Seriously, though. You look kind of sick. Everything okay?”
Dean sighed and closed the newspaper, throwing it on the chair next to him. “That fire on the East side of town the other night? While we were out?” Sam nodded, motioning that he knew what Dean was talking about. “The guy who owned that apartment was murdered beforehand. And guess what? He was gay.”
Sam swallowed the food in his mouth, eyes taking on a harsh light. “You’re kidding. They think it’s the same guy?”
Dean nodded. “They’re pretty sure. Guy’s throat was slit, just like the last three,” he spat out angrily.
Maybe it was the fact that he was thinking of coming out - to the guys at the station at least, if not his parents - but these murders pissed him off to no end. He couldn’t imagine hating someone so much just because they were different. Or maybe it was the presence of Sam in his life. Sam, who was so fresh-faced and loving, could be hurt simply because he loved the wrong person.
“This freaks you out, doesn’t it?” Sam reached over the table and placed his hand over Dean’s. “Look, I’m not going to say that you have no reason to be afraid of stuff like this, reactions like this. But…it’s not the only thing that you have to be afraid of in the world, you know? You have about the same chances of getting beaten for being gay as you do of dying in a plane crash.”
Dean winced. Planes. Right. Was that really supposed to make him feel better?
Sam laughed. “Okay. Bad example. But, you know what I mean.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I just…” he trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts, and turned his hand in Sam’s to link their fingers together. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to admit to Sam, regardless of the embarrassing things he’d already given up - like the plane thing. His fears of admitting his sexuality to anyone were far more deeply rooted than Sam could even begin to guess.
“This whole thing is big for me, you know?” he sighed. “This thing with you, and I want people to know. I want to be able to shout about this relationship from the rooftops. But there’s so much risk in just being who you are sometimes, ya know?”
Sam smiled at him reassuringly, nodding his head. “Yeah, I know. But, sometimes the benefits outweigh the risks.”
Dean couldn’t stop himself from returning the smile. As reckless as it may seem, the idea of being shunned by his family and friends really didn’t compare to having Sam around. If he had to choose, right at that moment, there’d be no contest.
“Hey, Dean, have you - ”
Dean and Sam startled, pulling their hands back, as Gordon Walker came barging into the kitchen. Dean really hoped that he hadn’t seen anything, but from the look on his face, there was no denying that he’d caught their holding hands. He looked shocked for a moment, brown eyes comically wide, before something flitted across his face, something ugly that Dean was scared to put a name to. Just as soon as it had appeared, though, it was gone, replaced by a mask of complete indifference.
“Sorry, Sam,” Gordon said, shooting Sam a smile that looked more menacing that apologetic. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation. But have either of you seen Bobby? He’s not in his office or the bunks and I needed to talk to him about something.”
Dean cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. He knew that if anyone was a threat, it would be Gordon Walker. He tended to see things in black and white; there were no shades of gray. Anything out of the ordinary was a nuisance that needed to be rid of, and Gordon was more than willing to take on the job. And being gay? So far out of the ordinary that it was in another galaxy.
“I haven’t seen him,” Dean forced out through a tight smile, keeping his eyes on Gordon. “Maybe he went out on a grocery run? Fridge is kind of bare.”
Sam nodded his agreement, keeping silent in what was probably a wise move.
Gordon just stood there for longer than what made Dean comfortable, looking from Sam to Dean and back again, barely-contained disgust evident in his eyes. Dean fidgeted in his seat; he wanted to reach out to Sam, shield him from Gordon’s scrutiny. No one should look ever look at Sam like that.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Gordon finally nodded his head and backed out of the kitchen, door swinging on its hinges in his wake. Dean immediately looked at Sam, whose eyes were as wide as saucers looking back at him.
Sam cleared his throat and broke eye contact with Dean, choosing to stare at his soggy Lucky Charms instead. “You, uh,” he started, then cleared his throat again. “This is going to be trouble, isn’t it?”
Dean didn’t have an answer to that. He’d been thinking about coming out, sure. He and Sam had been seeing each other for a solid month, and he was more dedicated to Sam than he’d been to anything, ever. He wanted to be able to talk about it with someone. He especially wanted to tell Andy. The guy was his best friend, and he deserved to know who Dean was.
But was it worth it? It hadn’t been that long. What if he told everyone that he was gay, outed both Sam and himself, and then, somewhere down the line, this thing with Sam got shot to hell? What if he took that step and everyone rejected them? Surely that would put a strain on things with Sam.
What if, what if, what if. That’s all Dean could think, different scenarios swirling through his mind at breakneck speed, not one of them with a happy ending.
“Dean?”
Sam’s cautious, broken tone caused Dean to snap his focus back to the conversation. Sam’s eyes were glossy, wet. Tears were just waiting to spill over. And that’s when Dean knew that it would all be worth it, all the bad stuff. Sam had been hurt by so many people throughout his life, and Dean absolutely refused to let himself do the same. He was going to do right by Sam.
Without hesitation, Dean leaned across the table and grabbed Sam’s face in both hands, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Then he leaned his forehead against Sam’s, smiling as reassuringly as he could. “I don’t know what Gordon is going to do, or say,” he whispered. “But, you and me? I want people to know, okay? Andy, Anson, Caleb. I want them all to know. I want them to know who I am. But that means letting them know about you, too…are you ready for that?”
Sam nodded immediately, hazel eyes determined. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Dean’s smile grew wider. “Then we do this on our terms, not Gordon’s, okay?”
Finally, Sam smiled back.
* * *
“You’re kidding me, right?” Dean’s voice was like ice, disbelief making his whole demeanor as cold as snow.
Sam couldn’t exactly disagree with the sentiment. He could tell that Bobby was uncomfortable - he was just the messenger, after all - but the same anger that Dean and Sam felt was just thrumming underneath Bobby’s semi-cool demeanor.
“I wish I was joking Dean,” Bobby responded, voice weighing heavy with fury. “I mean, we put ourselves on the line for this. Hell, you nearly died for her, and it’s all her fault to begin with.”
Sam slumped back against the door, headache beginning to form behind his eyes as he closed them. All the trouble they’d been through over the past month, and it all could have been prevented if some woman had just slit her wrists.
“So, let me get this straight. She was depressed, looking for a way out of her marriage, and rather than just take some sleeping pills or jumping off a bridge, she decided to take the whole apartment building with her?” Dean gritted out.
Even to Sam, he sounded like someone to be afraid of. And, he couldn’t say that he didn’t feel the same rage that Dean was feeling. Sure, he considered himself a mild-mannered person. But he had run into that building to save that woman, out of duty to her daughter. He’d put himself in danger and nearly gotten his boyfriend killed, and it was all. Her. Fault.
“We’re pressing charges, if that means anything,” Bobby added after a few minutes’ silence.
Sam and Dean both snorted at that. Putting the woman in jail for whatever reason - child endangerment, maybe? attempted manslaughter? - would not erase the damage that she’d caused. Dean would still have those bandages all over his body, muscles too damaged to walk properly for a while yet. He would still have scars years down the road as a reminder of what one person’s foolish had caused. Well, two people; Sam still wasn’t giving up the whole self-blame thing.
“I guess that explains why we haven’t received any thanks, huh?” Dean asked quietly.
Sam finally opened his eyes, seeing how tired Dean was, how he was obviously battling his exhaustion and probably some pain too, if the clenched jaw was anything to go by. For the first time in days, he really allowed himself to look at Dean, take in everything. Some of the bandages had been taken away, those of the lesser burns. His left arm was scarred, though not too badly, from his wrist to his elbow, angry pink lines twining their way upwards. His leg was still in its cast. His hair was flat, plastered to his head from all the sleep he’d been doing. His eyes were a bit glazed, with dark circles underneath them, giving evidence to the nightmares he was trying so hard to hide from his parents and the doctors, even from Sam.
Dean looked like he’d been through hell. But, it didn’t show in his attitude. He was just happy to be around. Sam didn’t think he could ask for more than that, not after everything. And he wanted this woman to pay, regardless of the sentence. He wanted her to know the full extent of what she’d done.
He was by Dean’s side in two strides, perching himself on the edge of the bed and grasping Dean’s hand in his. He looked determinedly at Bobby. “I want to speak to her. Press charges and tell the lawyers to push for maximum punishment, whatever that may be, but let me talk to her.”
What could Bobby do but nod his assent?
* * *
Dean looked around the locker room, less nervous than he expected to be. He was facing his colleagues, his peers, his friends - Caleb, Joshua, Andy, Anson, Jake, Roland, Henricksen. And he was about to let them all in on the one secret he’d never thought he’d have.
He should have been terrified.
But then he noticed that Sam had slipped into the back of the room. Sam wasn’t supposed to be there; his shift didn’t start for another 8 hours. Then again, Dean figured that his speech would affect Sam’s life too, so why shouldn’t he be there?
As soon as he saw Sam’s smile, it was enough to dissipate even the little nerves that he did have. He was doing this for Sam, as well as himself.
“What’s this about, Winchester?” Anson called out, hunched over on one of the benches like he was bored out of his mind.
Dean rolled his eyes. “You know, for the evil twin, you look awfully bored at the prospect of a little controversy,” he chided.
Anson immediately perked up, nudging Andy, who was beside him. “Controversy, Andy! Finally some excitement around here.”
Andy just winked and nodded at Dean. He already knew what Dean was going to say, because Dean had already told him. Andy was his best friend, and Dean hadn’t wanted him to find out about his big gay relationship at a cattle call.
Dean cleared his throat, stepping up onto one of the benches. “Okay, guys,” he began, seeking Sam out and locking eyes with him. He couldn’t have stopped the smile that immediately appeared on his face, if he’d even wanted to - and he promptly ignored Andy’s snorting. “There’s been some, uh…developments recently, and I just thought that you all deserved to know. I want to start out by saying that this doesn’t make me a different person - I’m still the same Dean you guys have known for years. But, I, uh…”
He paused and cleared his throat again, wiping his sweaty palms on his khaki pants. He could see Sam nodding at him from the back, hazel eyes full of something akin to pride. He nodded back; he could do this.
“I’m gay,” he blurted out, surprising even himself when he said it. “And I’m kinda, sorta dating Sam.”
He immediately looked away from the men in the room, glancing down at his shoes. When he was met with nothing but silence, he began to get worried. He’d been sure that they would take it better than this. He really hadn’t thought it would have made much of a difference to anyone, except Gordon.
All of a sudden, a couple people started clapping. Dean looked up in shock. There wasn’t a face in the entire room that wasn’t smiling, though he did realize that Jake had disappeared.
“’Bout time you guys admitted it!” Roland called out.
Then, Victor added, “Yeah, the sexual tension was killing me, dude!”
Sam was still in the back of the room, goofy grin on his face, giving him two thumbs up. He mouthed “I told you so” to Dean, and then slipped out of the locker room. Dean made to follow, but was immediately swarmed by his fellow firefighters, all of them offering congratulations like he’d just announced his pregnancy.
It was good. It was great.
Too bad Dean didn’t know that it was all about to go downhill.
* * *
Sam blew out his breath slowly, controlled. He was determined not to blow up at this woman. Cheryl was her name, Cheryl Wright. But he couldn’t stop calling her “That Woman” in his head.
The chair he was sitting on was uncomfortable, cold metal biting through his khakis. He was sitting rigidly, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him, while they waited for Cheryl to be brought in. Andy was a solid wall of tension next to him, making his own that much worse.
“Dude, what’s taking so long?” Andy whispered. “I just want to punch the bitch and get out.”
“Mr. Gallagher,” Lisa, the station’s lawyer, hissed from the other side of Sam, “You are not going to be punching anyone, am I clear?”
Andy leaned forward to see across Sam. “Ms. Braeden,” he mocked. “You’d want to punch her, too, if she’d nearly killed your best friend.”
Lisa just rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. Andy followed suit, but he and Sam both smiled when they heard Lisa mutter, “Hell yeah I would.”
After a few more minutes of fidgeting and bantering between Andy and Lisa, the door the interview room opened, and a guard led Cheryl inside, cuffing her to the metal table as was protocol.
The guard stepped outside, and Sam could practically feel his hatred rise. Dean was leaving the hospital right at that very minute, and instead of being there for his boyfriend, Sam was here, facing his would-be killer.
“Why did you do it?” Sam asked, the words slipping out unconsciously. He’d sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to ask that question, that he wasn’t going to be that guy that demanded answers.
To her credit, Cheryl looked frightened, her brown eyes widening. “I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head and causing her lank red hair to fly about her face. “I…the stove was on. I was trying…I figured I would just go to sleep, you know? Then…they came home. I got distracted, I. I didn’t want to hurt them. I forgot about the gas…I forgot. And I lit the match for the candles, to brighten up the room for Jimmy, for Julie. I just forgot.”
Sam stood up, anger manifesting itself in tears that he refused to shed. He leaned forward, towering over Cheryl enough for her to shrink back. “You forgot? You forgot about carbon monoxide filtering through your kitchen. That’s rich. Of all the things I thought I’d hear from you, that wasn’t one of them.”
Cheryl had tears streaming down her face, and Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to care that she was crying. Her stunt had done more than just property damage. He pulled some pictures from his jacket pocket, pictures that no one knew he had, and threw them on the table in front of her. He ignored the gasps of Andy and Lisa, keeping his focus entirely on Cheryl.
“I want you to look at those,” he growled, pushing them so they were right in front of her. She raised a shaky hand to sort through them, then covered her mouth with both hands. “You did that,” he continued, pain mixing with anger to turn his voice into ice. “You caused that to happen. Do you see? Can you see what you did to that beautiful man? The fire department shouldn’t have had to be there; we shouldn’t have had to save you.”
Sam paused, took a deep breath and sat back down. When he spoke again, it was calmer. “They all told me not to go back for you,” he said, smiling sadly at her wide-eyed reaction. “They told me it was virtual suicide. But, I didn’t want to deprive your little girl of her mother. My parents died in a fire, when I was about your daughter’s age, and I couldn’t let someone else go through even a tiny bit of that pain. So I went back.
“Dean, that man in those pictures? That’s my boyfriend. He always tries to protect me. Your foolishness and my foolishness combined left him like that. You know, he can’t even walk right now? Not on his own. The muscles in his thighs are too damaged. They had to perform surgery to repair some of them. Not only have you scarred him, you may have also taken away his ability to do his job.”
Sam stopped talking, wiping the tears from his face. Andy reached out and gripped his hand. Sam noticed that he had tears in his eyes, too.
“I’m sorry,” Cheryl sobbed across from them. “I am so, so sorry.”
“You think that’s going to make everything okay?” Andy whispered, voice shaky but filled with malice. “You think apologies are going to make him better? Dean loves his job; it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Fight fires. Save people. And you may have taken that away from him. For good. You remember that feeling of despair that drove you to suicide? Would you really want to inflict that on someone else?”
Cheryl shook her head, sobbing harder.
Sam just looked her, locking his eyes with hers. He’s not sure what expression he had on his face, but he knew it couldn’t have been pretty. “One thing before we go,” he said quietly. “Please don’t try to bargain your way out of this. You look like a decent enough person, and you owe it to not only Dean, but your family, to pay for your mistakes.”
Lisa stood up as soon as the words were out of Sam’s mouth, obviously wanting to leave as soon as possible. Sam was sure that the ordeal had affected her just as much as it had him and Andy.
It wasn’t until Sam was almost out the door, bringing up the rear, that Cheryl spoke. “I’m going to plead guilty,” he said, still looking at the table in front of her. “Would you please tell…Dean? Tell him that I’m sorry. Tell his family that I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for my mistake some day.”
She sounded so completely heartbroken that Sam could only nod, even though he knew that Cheryl couldn’t see it. He knew that it was all sincere. And, yeah, it would never make things right again. But, maybe it could help.
* * *
Part Four
Part Five
_
Part Two
Part Three
Even from 20 feet away, Sam could hear the argument that was going on behind Dean’s door. The words were indistinct, but he’d heard Dean pissed off enough to know that one of the voices was his. The other was deeper, and Sam had a sinking feeling that he was about to walk in on a family feud.
Not wanting to just walk in, he knocked on the door. The voices immediately cut off. After a few beats, the door was opened from the inside, and Sam found himself faced with Dean’s father. John was red-faced, obviously barely containing his anger.
A quick glance at Dean told him that Dean was in no better shape. He was pissed and glaring daggers at his father. It was evident that the overexertion of yelling had exhausted him, but he was determined not to let it show.
Sam tried smile reassuringly at John, then tentatively asked if he could come in. John looked over his shoulder at Dean for a second before he nodded and stepped aside to let Sam in the room. “This isn’t over, Dean,” he ground out before he stalked out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.
Dean flinched at the sound of the door, then immediately slumped back against his pillows, looking completely drained. Sam gave him a questioning look as he made his way over to the empty chair beside the bed, immediately slipping his hand into Dean’s and linking their fingers.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a kiss over the back of Dean’s hand. “That didn’t sound good.”
Dean sighed, closing his eyes. “With Dad, it’s never good,” came the quiet reply. “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that.”
Sam scooted the chair closer to the head of the bed and leaned forward to kiss Dean softly, smiling when Dean returned it. “You wanna tell me about it?” he offered as he pulled away.
Dean opened his eyes and turned his face entirely to Sam. He had a sad smile on his face. “Is there any way I can get out of doing that?” he teased.
Sam laughed and shook his head. He knew how much Dean hated talking things out. But considering the scene he’d just walked in on, he knew that Dean would offer him some explanation.
Dean sighed. “Fine, okay,” he mumbled, squeezing Sam’s hand in his. “But you’re not going to like this.”
Sam nodded, motioning Dean on silently even as the bottom completely dropped out of his stomach.
“Well. The doctor was in here this morning,” he started hesitantly.
“And?”
Dean turned his head on the pillow, looking out the window and resolutely not at Sam. “They want to keep me here for a couple more days and then I can go home.”
Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t mention how excited he was at the news, because Dean still looked uneasy. There was still more to the story. And he just knew that it had something to do with what he’d seen in Dean’s interaction with Bobby from a few days before.
Dean looked back at Sam before he spoke again. And when he did, his voice was quiet, unsure, small. He sounded like a lost child, and Sam wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“I’ll need someone around to help me for a couple weeks. My back’s pretty messed up, and when you factor in the broken leg…Well. Showers, getting around. It’s not going to be easy…”
Dean trailed off and looked away again. Sam was fairly certain that Dean had the beginnings of tears in his eyes and just didn’t want him to see.
“Dean?” he ventured. “You’ve gotta talk to me. I’m not seeing what your dad could get so mad about…”
When Dean turned back to Sam again, there weren’t any tears, but his eyes looked sadder than Sam had ever seen them. And, after some of the crap they’d been through, that was saying something.
“He wants me to go back to Kansas,” he whispered. “Permanently. He thinks that I should have gotten the big city thing out of my system by now, and apparently, it’s obvious that I can’t look out for myself.”
“Oh,” Sam murmured, looking down at the bed, where his hand was gripping Dean’s tight enough to turn his own knuckles white. “I, uh…”
“Hey,” Dean said in a stronger voice, pushing Sam’s chin up with their combined hands. “I’m not going. I told him that, and that’s why he got pissed.”
Sam nodded; the mere prospect of losing Dean after he’d gotten through the fire had his throat closing up. Dean was the first person that had really cared about him and it might all be ripped away from him because of him.
“Sammy, don’t.” Dean’s voice hardly registered to Sam. “Please, don’t.”
It was the breaking of Dean’s voice that did him in, and he finally focused his gaze on Dean’s face. He was surprised to find Dean smiling, even if it was faint. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this. I’ll say it again: my being in the hospital is not your fault. I made the choice to run in after you. I did. Me. Okay? It was stupid of you to go back in, yes, but my decision was even worse because I distracted you. You heard me calling after you, and you couldn’t hear what was happening around you. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t not back you up, you know? I had to try to protect you, and I just…”
Dean trailed off and took a deep, shaky breath, silent tears trailing down his cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away with his other hand, bandages coming away streaked. “My dad’s behavior isn’t your fault, either. He just…he doesn’t understand what would be keeping me here. And I’m just too scared to tell him about you. I’m afraid that if I did, that would just add fuel to the fire, make him more determined to whisk me back to Kansas. I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry I can’t -”
“No, no, hey. Dean,” Sam whispered, talking over Dean and stopping his words. “It’s okay. I understand not wanting to tell your dad that you’re gay. My aunt’s reaction was bad enough. I want you to do it when you’re ready, not because you need to prove a point.”
He reached out and smoothed Dean’s hair back from his forehead, his hand lingered on the side of his face, thumb smoothing over the raised, pink line on Dean’s jaw. “I love you, you know that?” he said quietly. “So much.”
Dean smiled then, a watery version of the real thing but it was good enough for Sam.
* * *
“You feeling okay?” Sam asked as he sat down on the other side of the station’s kitchen table from Dean with a bowl of cereal. “You don’t look so good.”
Dean just smirked, lifting his gaze from the paper enough to wink over at Sam before he looked back down. “I always look good, Sam.”
Sam snorted. “You just keep telling yourself that, stud,” he said, pausing for a minute to chew a spoonful of Lucky Charms, looking at Dean with narrowed eyes. “Seriously, though. You look kind of sick. Everything okay?”
Dean sighed and closed the newspaper, throwing it on the chair next to him. “That fire on the East side of town the other night? While we were out?” Sam nodded, motioning that he knew what Dean was talking about. “The guy who owned that apartment was murdered beforehand. And guess what? He was gay.”
Sam swallowed the food in his mouth, eyes taking on a harsh light. “You’re kidding. They think it’s the same guy?”
Dean nodded. “They’re pretty sure. Guy’s throat was slit, just like the last three,” he spat out angrily.
Maybe it was the fact that he was thinking of coming out - to the guys at the station at least, if not his parents - but these murders pissed him off to no end. He couldn’t imagine hating someone so much just because they were different. Or maybe it was the presence of Sam in his life. Sam, who was so fresh-faced and loving, could be hurt simply because he loved the wrong person.
“This freaks you out, doesn’t it?” Sam reached over the table and placed his hand over Dean’s. “Look, I’m not going to say that you have no reason to be afraid of stuff like this, reactions like this. But…it’s not the only thing that you have to be afraid of in the world, you know? You have about the same chances of getting beaten for being gay as you do of dying in a plane crash.”
Dean winced. Planes. Right. Was that really supposed to make him feel better?
Sam laughed. “Okay. Bad example. But, you know what I mean.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I just…” he trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts, and turned his hand in Sam’s to link their fingers together. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to admit to Sam, regardless of the embarrassing things he’d already given up - like the plane thing. His fears of admitting his sexuality to anyone were far more deeply rooted than Sam could even begin to guess.
“This whole thing is big for me, you know?” he sighed. “This thing with you, and I want people to know. I want to be able to shout about this relationship from the rooftops. But there’s so much risk in just being who you are sometimes, ya know?”
Sam smiled at him reassuringly, nodding his head. “Yeah, I know. But, sometimes the benefits outweigh the risks.”
Dean couldn’t stop himself from returning the smile. As reckless as it may seem, the idea of being shunned by his family and friends really didn’t compare to having Sam around. If he had to choose, right at that moment, there’d be no contest.
“Hey, Dean, have you - ”
Dean and Sam startled, pulling their hands back, as Gordon Walker came barging into the kitchen. Dean really hoped that he hadn’t seen anything, but from the look on his face, there was no denying that he’d caught their holding hands. He looked shocked for a moment, brown eyes comically wide, before something flitted across his face, something ugly that Dean was scared to put a name to. Just as soon as it had appeared, though, it was gone, replaced by a mask of complete indifference.
“Sorry, Sam,” Gordon said, shooting Sam a smile that looked more menacing that apologetic. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation. But have either of you seen Bobby? He’s not in his office or the bunks and I needed to talk to him about something.”
Dean cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. He knew that if anyone was a threat, it would be Gordon Walker. He tended to see things in black and white; there were no shades of gray. Anything out of the ordinary was a nuisance that needed to be rid of, and Gordon was more than willing to take on the job. And being gay? So far out of the ordinary that it was in another galaxy.
“I haven’t seen him,” Dean forced out through a tight smile, keeping his eyes on Gordon. “Maybe he went out on a grocery run? Fridge is kind of bare.”
Sam nodded his agreement, keeping silent in what was probably a wise move.
Gordon just stood there for longer than what made Dean comfortable, looking from Sam to Dean and back again, barely-contained disgust evident in his eyes. Dean fidgeted in his seat; he wanted to reach out to Sam, shield him from Gordon’s scrutiny. No one should look ever look at Sam like that.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Gordon finally nodded his head and backed out of the kitchen, door swinging on its hinges in his wake. Dean immediately looked at Sam, whose eyes were as wide as saucers looking back at him.
Sam cleared his throat and broke eye contact with Dean, choosing to stare at his soggy Lucky Charms instead. “You, uh,” he started, then cleared his throat again. “This is going to be trouble, isn’t it?”
Dean didn’t have an answer to that. He’d been thinking about coming out, sure. He and Sam had been seeing each other for a solid month, and he was more dedicated to Sam than he’d been to anything, ever. He wanted to be able to talk about it with someone. He especially wanted to tell Andy. The guy was his best friend, and he deserved to know who Dean was.
But was it worth it? It hadn’t been that long. What if he told everyone that he was gay, outed both Sam and himself, and then, somewhere down the line, this thing with Sam got shot to hell? What if he took that step and everyone rejected them? Surely that would put a strain on things with Sam.
What if, what if, what if. That’s all Dean could think, different scenarios swirling through his mind at breakneck speed, not one of them with a happy ending.
“Dean?”
Sam’s cautious, broken tone caused Dean to snap his focus back to the conversation. Sam’s eyes were glossy, wet. Tears were just waiting to spill over. And that’s when Dean knew that it would all be worth it, all the bad stuff. Sam had been hurt by so many people throughout his life, and Dean absolutely refused to let himself do the same. He was going to do right by Sam.
Without hesitation, Dean leaned across the table and grabbed Sam’s face in both hands, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Then he leaned his forehead against Sam’s, smiling as reassuringly as he could. “I don’t know what Gordon is going to do, or say,” he whispered. “But, you and me? I want people to know, okay? Andy, Anson, Caleb. I want them all to know. I want them to know who I am. But that means letting them know about you, too…are you ready for that?”
Sam nodded immediately, hazel eyes determined. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Dean’s smile grew wider. “Then we do this on our terms, not Gordon’s, okay?”
Finally, Sam smiled back.
* * *
“You’re kidding me, right?” Dean’s voice was like ice, disbelief making his whole demeanor as cold as snow.
Sam couldn’t exactly disagree with the sentiment. He could tell that Bobby was uncomfortable - he was just the messenger, after all - but the same anger that Dean and Sam felt was just thrumming underneath Bobby’s semi-cool demeanor.
“I wish I was joking Dean,” Bobby responded, voice weighing heavy with fury. “I mean, we put ourselves on the line for this. Hell, you nearly died for her, and it’s all her fault to begin with.”
Sam slumped back against the door, headache beginning to form behind his eyes as he closed them. All the trouble they’d been through over the past month, and it all could have been prevented if some woman had just slit her wrists.
“So, let me get this straight. She was depressed, looking for a way out of her marriage, and rather than just take some sleeping pills or jumping off a bridge, she decided to take the whole apartment building with her?” Dean gritted out.
Even to Sam, he sounded like someone to be afraid of. And, he couldn’t say that he didn’t feel the same rage that Dean was feeling. Sure, he considered himself a mild-mannered person. But he had run into that building to save that woman, out of duty to her daughter. He’d put himself in danger and nearly gotten his boyfriend killed, and it was all. Her. Fault.
“We’re pressing charges, if that means anything,” Bobby added after a few minutes’ silence.
Sam and Dean both snorted at that. Putting the woman in jail for whatever reason - child endangerment, maybe? attempted manslaughter? - would not erase the damage that she’d caused. Dean would still have those bandages all over his body, muscles too damaged to walk properly for a while yet. He would still have scars years down the road as a reminder of what one person’s foolish had caused. Well, two people; Sam still wasn’t giving up the whole self-blame thing.
“I guess that explains why we haven’t received any thanks, huh?” Dean asked quietly.
Sam finally opened his eyes, seeing how tired Dean was, how he was obviously battling his exhaustion and probably some pain too, if the clenched jaw was anything to go by. For the first time in days, he really allowed himself to look at Dean, take in everything. Some of the bandages had been taken away, those of the lesser burns. His left arm was scarred, though not too badly, from his wrist to his elbow, angry pink lines twining their way upwards. His leg was still in its cast. His hair was flat, plastered to his head from all the sleep he’d been doing. His eyes were a bit glazed, with dark circles underneath them, giving evidence to the nightmares he was trying so hard to hide from his parents and the doctors, even from Sam.
Dean looked like he’d been through hell. But, it didn’t show in his attitude. He was just happy to be around. Sam didn’t think he could ask for more than that, not after everything. And he wanted this woman to pay, regardless of the sentence. He wanted her to know the full extent of what she’d done.
He was by Dean’s side in two strides, perching himself on the edge of the bed and grasping Dean’s hand in his. He looked determinedly at Bobby. “I want to speak to her. Press charges and tell the lawyers to push for maximum punishment, whatever that may be, but let me talk to her.”
What could Bobby do but nod his assent?
* * *
Dean looked around the locker room, less nervous than he expected to be. He was facing his colleagues, his peers, his friends - Caleb, Joshua, Andy, Anson, Jake, Roland, Henricksen. And he was about to let them all in on the one secret he’d never thought he’d have.
He should have been terrified.
But then he noticed that Sam had slipped into the back of the room. Sam wasn’t supposed to be there; his shift didn’t start for another 8 hours. Then again, Dean figured that his speech would affect Sam’s life too, so why shouldn’t he be there?
As soon as he saw Sam’s smile, it was enough to dissipate even the little nerves that he did have. He was doing this for Sam, as well as himself.
“What’s this about, Winchester?” Anson called out, hunched over on one of the benches like he was bored out of his mind.
Dean rolled his eyes. “You know, for the evil twin, you look awfully bored at the prospect of a little controversy,” he chided.
Anson immediately perked up, nudging Andy, who was beside him. “Controversy, Andy! Finally some excitement around here.”
Andy just winked and nodded at Dean. He already knew what Dean was going to say, because Dean had already told him. Andy was his best friend, and Dean hadn’t wanted him to find out about his big gay relationship at a cattle call.
Dean cleared his throat, stepping up onto one of the benches. “Okay, guys,” he began, seeking Sam out and locking eyes with him. He couldn’t have stopped the smile that immediately appeared on his face, if he’d even wanted to - and he promptly ignored Andy’s snorting. “There’s been some, uh…developments recently, and I just thought that you all deserved to know. I want to start out by saying that this doesn’t make me a different person - I’m still the same Dean you guys have known for years. But, I, uh…”
He paused and cleared his throat again, wiping his sweaty palms on his khaki pants. He could see Sam nodding at him from the back, hazel eyes full of something akin to pride. He nodded back; he could do this.
“I’m gay,” he blurted out, surprising even himself when he said it. “And I’m kinda, sorta dating Sam.”
He immediately looked away from the men in the room, glancing down at his shoes. When he was met with nothing but silence, he began to get worried. He’d been sure that they would take it better than this. He really hadn’t thought it would have made much of a difference to anyone, except Gordon.
All of a sudden, a couple people started clapping. Dean looked up in shock. There wasn’t a face in the entire room that wasn’t smiling, though he did realize that Jake had disappeared.
“’Bout time you guys admitted it!” Roland called out.
Then, Victor added, “Yeah, the sexual tension was killing me, dude!”
Sam was still in the back of the room, goofy grin on his face, giving him two thumbs up. He mouthed “I told you so” to Dean, and then slipped out of the locker room. Dean made to follow, but was immediately swarmed by his fellow firefighters, all of them offering congratulations like he’d just announced his pregnancy.
It was good. It was great.
Too bad Dean didn’t know that it was all about to go downhill.
* * *
Sam blew out his breath slowly, controlled. He was determined not to blow up at this woman. Cheryl was her name, Cheryl Wright. But he couldn’t stop calling her “That Woman” in his head.
The chair he was sitting on was uncomfortable, cold metal biting through his khakis. He was sitting rigidly, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him, while they waited for Cheryl to be brought in. Andy was a solid wall of tension next to him, making his own that much worse.
“Dude, what’s taking so long?” Andy whispered. “I just want to punch the bitch and get out.”
“Mr. Gallagher,” Lisa, the station’s lawyer, hissed from the other side of Sam, “You are not going to be punching anyone, am I clear?”
Andy leaned forward to see across Sam. “Ms. Braeden,” he mocked. “You’d want to punch her, too, if she’d nearly killed your best friend.”
Lisa just rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. Andy followed suit, but he and Sam both smiled when they heard Lisa mutter, “Hell yeah I would.”
After a few more minutes of fidgeting and bantering between Andy and Lisa, the door the interview room opened, and a guard led Cheryl inside, cuffing her to the metal table as was protocol.
The guard stepped outside, and Sam could practically feel his hatred rise. Dean was leaving the hospital right at that very minute, and instead of being there for his boyfriend, Sam was here, facing his would-be killer.
“Why did you do it?” Sam asked, the words slipping out unconsciously. He’d sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to ask that question, that he wasn’t going to be that guy that demanded answers.
To her credit, Cheryl looked frightened, her brown eyes widening. “I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head and causing her lank red hair to fly about her face. “I…the stove was on. I was trying…I figured I would just go to sleep, you know? Then…they came home. I got distracted, I. I didn’t want to hurt them. I forgot about the gas…I forgot. And I lit the match for the candles, to brighten up the room for Jimmy, for Julie. I just forgot.”
Sam stood up, anger manifesting itself in tears that he refused to shed. He leaned forward, towering over Cheryl enough for her to shrink back. “You forgot? You forgot about carbon monoxide filtering through your kitchen. That’s rich. Of all the things I thought I’d hear from you, that wasn’t one of them.”
Cheryl had tears streaming down her face, and Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to care that she was crying. Her stunt had done more than just property damage. He pulled some pictures from his jacket pocket, pictures that no one knew he had, and threw them on the table in front of her. He ignored the gasps of Andy and Lisa, keeping his focus entirely on Cheryl.
“I want you to look at those,” he growled, pushing them so they were right in front of her. She raised a shaky hand to sort through them, then covered her mouth with both hands. “You did that,” he continued, pain mixing with anger to turn his voice into ice. “You caused that to happen. Do you see? Can you see what you did to that beautiful man? The fire department shouldn’t have had to be there; we shouldn’t have had to save you.”
Sam paused, took a deep breath and sat back down. When he spoke again, it was calmer. “They all told me not to go back for you,” he said, smiling sadly at her wide-eyed reaction. “They told me it was virtual suicide. But, I didn’t want to deprive your little girl of her mother. My parents died in a fire, when I was about your daughter’s age, and I couldn’t let someone else go through even a tiny bit of that pain. So I went back.
“Dean, that man in those pictures? That’s my boyfriend. He always tries to protect me. Your foolishness and my foolishness combined left him like that. You know, he can’t even walk right now? Not on his own. The muscles in his thighs are too damaged. They had to perform surgery to repair some of them. Not only have you scarred him, you may have also taken away his ability to do his job.”
Sam stopped talking, wiping the tears from his face. Andy reached out and gripped his hand. Sam noticed that he had tears in his eyes, too.
“I’m sorry,” Cheryl sobbed across from them. “I am so, so sorry.”
“You think that’s going to make everything okay?” Andy whispered, voice shaky but filled with malice. “You think apologies are going to make him better? Dean loves his job; it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. Fight fires. Save people. And you may have taken that away from him. For good. You remember that feeling of despair that drove you to suicide? Would you really want to inflict that on someone else?”
Cheryl shook her head, sobbing harder.
Sam just looked her, locking his eyes with hers. He’s not sure what expression he had on his face, but he knew it couldn’t have been pretty. “One thing before we go,” he said quietly. “Please don’t try to bargain your way out of this. You look like a decent enough person, and you owe it to not only Dean, but your family, to pay for your mistakes.”
Lisa stood up as soon as the words were out of Sam’s mouth, obviously wanting to leave as soon as possible. Sam was sure that the ordeal had affected her just as much as it had him and Andy.
It wasn’t until Sam was almost out the door, bringing up the rear, that Cheryl spoke. “I’m going to plead guilty,” he said, still looking at the table in front of her. “Would you please tell…Dean? Tell him that I’m sorry. Tell his family that I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for my mistake some day.”
She sounded so completely heartbroken that Sam could only nod, even though he knew that Cheryl couldn’t see it. He knew that it was all sincere. And, yeah, it would never make things right again. But, maybe it could help.
* * *
Part Four
Part Five
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