Shadows 03
Hi, guys! Sorry for the wait. Here's the third chapter. The next one will be up in two or three days, so I don't make you wait this long again :) Huge thanks to Skalindra for beta reading <3
- Dean -
The hard kick to consciousness struck unexpectedly, always coming after the nightmares took over his dreams. It woke Dean up with a start. Only years of practice didn’t allow his body the natural response it craved. He didn’t flinch, didn’t jerk awake with flying fists or sit up too fast.
Instead, he brought his five senses to alertness, trying to find his bearings inconspicuously. Dad had taught him and Sam to visualize the environment they’re in before they showed any signs of awareness. That way, they’d be prepared for everything and less likely to get killed. As per usual, he started with the touch. The rough material underneath his fingertips was close to the sensation of the cheap motel sheets. A pillow was put under his head. He was lying on a bed.
When he felt a familiar presence sitting next to him, he skipped the other senses quickly and outright opened his eyes, wincing at the dull pain pulsating through his whole body.
“Cas?” he rasped, as the angel came into view, ever the silent guardian, towering over him.
Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. It was hot, burning through the layers of clothing, grounding him. “Yes, Dean, it’s me. You are safe now.”
Dean frowned in confusion; his thoughts distant, memories blurry. Cas’ weirder-than-usual behavior unnerved him. “Yeah, okay… thanks, I, uh… I guess?”
He glanced around, immediately regretting the action as his vision started spinning, and a new, sharper pain exploded behind his eyelids. Cas inclined his head, studying him, which made Dean a whole lot more uncomfortable.
“You are in pain,” the angel stated.
Dean opened his dry mouth to retort, “No shit, Sherlock,” but Castiel was quicker. He had the palm of his left hand placed gently but firmly on Dean’s brow within seconds, silencing the upcoming words.
Cas had done this for him so many times and yet, with Dean lying on the bed practically beneath the angel, feeling vulnerable and not liking it at all, the gesture seemed very intimate. It should have freaked him out, but Dean was too tired to give a damn. He tilted his head back, leaning shamelessly into the touch, seeking comfort, and closed his eyes. The hand on his shoulder came to rest lower, copying Cas’ handprint he’d left there whilst getting Dean out of Hell. The prickling energy jolting between them at the contact was not something Dean only imagined. It was real… felt nice.
When Cas retreated the warm hand, Dean cleared his throat. He felt immensely better. The headache vanishing like it had never been there. “Uh, so what happened? Where’re Sam and Benny?”
Wrinkles appeared on Cas’ forehead, making him look sorrowful, though he didn’t let it tarnish the clarity of his voice. “What do you remember, Dean?”
Dean worried his lower lip, thinking. “The-the witch… her saying something about buying herself some time… She told Sammy she had a gift for him… Where’s Sam, Cas?” He tried to get up but the angel held him down. What the hell?
“He will be here in a moment. He and the vampire are alright.”
“Oh… okay…” Dean scrubbed at his eyes. They still felt heavy and tired, despite Cas having him cured from the headache. “Cas, what the hell happened?”
The angel looked guilty and weary at the same time. That meant trouble. To confirm Dean’s suspicion that something had gone terribly wrong, and leaving his stomach in knots, Cas seemed to have a hard time forcing himself to confess.
“I believe we experienced one of your memories,” was what finally came out, and shook Dean to the core. His heartbeat quickened immediately. Cas’ hand on him no longer felt reassuring. It became restricting, trapping him without any chance for escape. ”Wh-what do you mean?”
Castiel wouldn’t meet his eyes. He gripped him tightly, painfully, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself which was really freaking disturbing.
“What do you mean?” Dean repeated more firmly, his voice getting harsh in spite of his efforts to sound calm and uncaring, as if there was nothing to hide. He laughed inwardly, hysterically… as if there was nothing to hide…
The angel actually looked flustered after his outburst, and Dean wondered how far Cas could look into him right now… if he was aware of the swirling emotions, if he knew how much and why Dean was truly panicking. What if-
What if he saw right through him, all the way in?
“What do you see?” Dean whispered, terrified, fixing his eyes on the angel.
The blue of Cas’ irises mellowed, became clear like a summer’s sky. Cas leaned forward, opened his mouth, and Dean dreaded what he’d learn. How the angel viewed him, everything Cas knew. It had never occurred to him how important the answer was going to be for him before he’d asked. But now, when it was out there in plain sight, Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know. What if Cas saw everything horrible that hid inside him? He was an angel. He could do that.
“I don’t see your life, Dean,” Cas said, and Dean could breathe a little again. Then the angel had to ruin it when he added, “I see you.”
That wasn’t a victory. That was the worst he’d ever thought of himself laid bare for Cas’ eyes. He looked at Dean and saw his faults, knew of the dirt and failures that were embedded deep in his soul.
How could he be aware of all that and still stay in the same room as Dean?
“Do you see it?” he asked, voice wavering.
Cas parted his lips, and Dean prepared himself mentally for the inevitable “Yes.”
Before Cas could answer, a door slammed open, rescuing Dean from hearing the one thing he’d never wanted to hear. Sam burst into the room, looking furious. Benny went calmly after him, with no care for the world, closing the door again more cautiously.
Sam’s eyes wandered once sharply around the room, settling on Cas. “What the hell, man? You can’t just take off like that!”
Then he saw Dean was awake, and a new jungle of emotions started battling across his face. Worry, sorrow, guilt, anger, every emotion worse than the previous one, and Dean was in no condition to have the talk which he could see forming fast in his brother’s head. Sam wanted to know and Dean would be damned if he let him.
“So, Sammy. You got that bitch?” he asked, hoping to distract his brother. Sam’s gaze shot to Castiel and in that exact moment, Dean knew he lost. His brother realized Cas had told Dean about the memory trip, and adding Dean’s skittish behavior to the equation, Sammy put two and two together.
Anger won over his features as Sam stalked toward the bed.
Dean shook off Cas’ hand and scrambled up. He swayed a little but managed to hold himself upright. He would not let Sam shout at him from above. He needed to feel in control for this conversation.
“What the fuck was that, Dean?”
Dean winced. Swearing Sammy never meant anything good. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently. He saw Benny taking the far side of the room, watching the interaction with interest, yet from a safe distance. Bastard.
“What do I mean?!” Sam rounded on Dean, striding into his personal space.
Dean had to raise his head. Damn little brother was a giant now. He was looming over Dean, eyebrows knotting together, nostrils flaring, mouth slightly pouty with corners turned down. Dean’s least favorite bitchface, one that usually preceded a hissy fit, and meant Sammy was seriously pissed. It sounded funny but really wasn’t. And nothing good ever came out of it.
To top it all, Dean still didn’t know of what memory they all talked about. He feared the worst but he couldn’t afford to let his brain freeze or panic before he’d find out for sure.
“I mean you, your goddamn revolver and your mouth!” Sam answered his question with small angry droplets of spit landing on Dean’s face.
Dean wiped them off with his sleeve, making a face. So the fuss was about this one particular memory. Not exactly the top of his life. He now at least understood why Sam was so angry. Dean would have gone ballistic was he ever to find out that Sammy had wanted to end himself, the word ballistic being a hard understatement.
Dean would tear the world apart, and find whoever was responsible then tear them apart, only to bring them back from death to do it all over again. He would never let Sammy out of sight, and would give him one hell of a time for not ever telling Dean. He would yell at Sam for not trusting him enough.
He would do all that and more, and all the while feel like a huge disappointment, because he’d failed his brother, hadn’t been able to protect him.
But that’s not what happened here.
This wasn’t about Sam. No. It wasn’t about his faults, because Sammy had never done anything wrong. He just hadn’t been there, had his own problems to take care of. And Dean had always respected the boundaries. He didn’t understand them, but he let them be. It was Sam’s wish.
Dean would never consider burdening his brother with some parts of his life. One person to know had been enough, and even he left. Realizing finally just how damaged Dean was, he simply went and never looked back, creating another invincible boundary. Because that’s what people in Dean’s life did all the time. They put distance between them and him. Nothing he did was ever good enough.
What if Sammy would leave him again when Dean told him? He couldn’t risk it.
Schooling down his expression, he said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” It was cheap but he had to try. Sue him.
Benny raised an eyebrow and Cas got that dissatisfied expression, telling him, “Lying isn’t good for your soul.” Dean crossed his arms defensively over the chest, holding out.
Sam ran a hand through his hair in one jerky frustrated move, tugging at the strands. “Unbelievable.” Raising his head up to stare at the ceiling, looking like he was praying to God for patience, he made something like a half turn then got back into Dean’s face. “Look me in the eyes and repeat it,” he challenged.
Dean shuffled nervously on spot, quiet. He had always hated lying to Sammy, and truth be told, they had lied to each other often enough for him to start hating it even more. He promised himself not to ever do it again, especially after Benny, and the Amelia fake text, but… It was better this way for all of them, because this way, he wouldn’t be abandoned by them. It was selfish, but Dean needed to have someone in his life. He needed his brother, his friend. He needed Cas.
He wouldn’t survive losing them and if all it took was one small lie, so be it. Hopefully, they would leave it at that.
That’s why he did what his brother had asked for, facial expressions under tight control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His heart was thumping loudly, yelling Liar! Liar!, but Dean couldn’t open this can of worms. It would ruin him.
Benny snorted loudly in his corner and Dean shot the vampire a silencing glare. Cas stood up next to him, looking even more disappointed than moments ago, making Dean feel like the biggest scum. They all knew he was lying, that it hadn’t been the witch’s idea of a sick joke. Well, it had been a sick joke, just based on real events.
Benny had somehow been always able to tell when Dean was lying and when telling the truth, and Cas could read him like an open book. He saw into his mind and soul like they belonged to him. It was given they both knew he was bullshitting them.
Sammy though, Sammy didn’t need to be a great observer or a freaking mentalist to see through his brother. He grew up with Dean. He knew him. And now, he looked at Dean with the same disappointment as Cas did. Like Dean had deliberately hurt them and was stabbing into the open wounds just for kicks.
Dean gritted his teeth. Fuck them all. They had no right to make him feel guilty when he’d done nothing wrong but protected himself. It was his life, his decisions. He wouldn’t let them poke in it. He wouldn’t allow them to learn the truth and leave him.
Sam’s eyes hardened. “You know what, Dean?” he said in a cold voice and Dean didn’t like where this was heading. “The witch said this was my show. I don’t think she’d stop with just one memory. I think that if I wanted to, I could see everything right now.”
Dean was ready to deny adamantly that whatever they’d witnessed was in no way his memory when the rest of the words came to him. His eyes widened as opposed to Sam’s. Cas tensed up and Benny moved closer.
“So you either tell me why you pulled the damn trigger or I find out on my own,” Sam spat. He was beyond angry and Dean understood. He honestly did… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him, them, and if Sam’s theory proved to be right, he couldn’t let him do it either.
“You’re bluffing, you wouldn’t do that.” Dean tried desperately to play on Sammy’s sense of sympathy but his brother didn’t care. He was furious because he had to think that by killing himself, Dean had wanted to abandon him and dad. He had to think Dean didn’t care about them.
It was in no way true, but Sam was blindsided by his rage, seeing only the revolver before his eyes.
“Watch me,” Sam hissed, making a real promise out of a possibly empty threat.
Instantly, Cas placed himself between Dean and Sam like a protective shield with a harsh shove of his mojo. It made them both take a step backwards. “You shouldn’t do it, Sam. If it’s Dean’s wish-”
Sam laughed bitterly and it sent shivers down Dean’s spine. He rarely experienced his brother like this. It signaled seconds before he snapped. It meant arguing turned to blood, fighting. It meant leaving. Memories of the night Sam left for Stanford flooded Dean’s head, making him dizzy. He couldn’t let it happen again.
Benny neared Sam from behind, prepared for a fight, to protect Dean. It seemed like it was encoded into the vampire’s blood to be there for Dean when he needed him. Dean wondered if he’d ever thanked him for it properly... probably not. He’d have to fix it, tell Benny just how much he appreciated their friendship. The vampire was the only person who’d never betrayed Dean, who always stood by his side, and never created the stupid boundaries. Even a whole year spent together, day and night, didn’t drive him away. It’s almost like he thought Dean was worth the effort.
“I should have expected you’d side with Dean,” Sam bit out at Cas, and Dean had had enough. He sidestepped the angel and went up to Sam’s face. A soft breeze over his skin signaled Cas’ power tentatively reaching out to him. Dean ignored it.
“Cut the crap, Sam,” he snapped. Sam shouldn’t be venting his anger at Cas. It wasn’t right. “I swear that if you as much as try to look at my memories again, we’re done. I’ll never forgive you.” He was pressing his luck, he knew it, risking that Sam left sooner than later, but maybe, just maybe, the offensive strategy was going to work better.
Like a flash, Sam’s eyes softened all of a sudden. “Is it that bad?” he asked gently, too fucking gently, and Dean realized he’d just thrown up the whole ignorance act into thin air. He was such a moron.
“Why, Dean?” Sam pushed. “Why would you do something so… so stupid?”
Why… funny question. Like what he did could be explained by one sentence, one reason, and be done. Sammy thought that he’d ask, Dean would answer, and Sam would somehow magically deal with the one problem?
He didn’t realize that it was Dean’s whole freaking life that was the problem… the single reason consisting from hundreds of details. There were big events, tiny ones. They were all life-changing. He couldn’t even put it in words, and Sam wanted to know why?
“You don’t understand-“
“Then help me understand!”
“No,” Dean shook his head. It was impossible to explain and more so, he didn’t even want to. It was tempting, just to load off, but he had to keep in mind he did this so they wouldn’t leave. It was important to stay quiet. “No, no…”
“What happened?” Sam demanded, and when Dean merely kept shaking his head and started retreating, he got more aggressive. “Was it because of the hunting? School? Girl?” Sam was cornering him with questions, firing off possibilities, scanning Dean’s reactions to the suggestions with his sharp eyes. “Was it because of me? Did dad do something?”
Dean ran a hand over his face, chuckling darkly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Sam frowned angrily, all traces of the softness gone just as abruptly as they’d appeared. Mentioning their dad did that a lot, especially when they’d been kids. It had been pretty easy to make Sammy’s blood boil. All it took was mentioning John Winchester.
“Yeah,” Sam growled, “because dad was so perfect he’d never do anything to hurt us, right?”
Dean glared at his brother. “No, he wouldn’t. He always did his best. He pushed us hard because he had to. Otherwise, we wouldn’t survive a damn second out there.”
“He shouldn’t have even dragged us out there!” Sam countered. His opinion on what’s best for children had always differed from their dad’s. “We were kids! He should have settled down, he should have raised us like a normal parent. Look at where it got you!”
He was referring to the fucking memory. “It wasn’t his fault, okay?” Dean shouted. “And normal parents don’t know about the monsters waiting to chew their little kids for a snack.” They were fighting. When did that happen? They were good hours ago, bickering, teasing Cas. Why did everything have to go to hell every damn time? “Dad did it to protect us!”
“He did it for revenge!” Sam yelled. “He may have told us some crap about preparing or protecting us, but you know damn well he did it to kill that demon!”
Dean flinched. Touché. It hurt to hear it. “Just… shut up, Sam.”
“So I don’t shatter your perfect picture of him?”
“Sam,” Cas warned, but was ignored.
Dean was quickly losing his temper. To argue was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to defend their dad, when the man himself couldn’t be here to do so… when he’d thrown away his life for Dean. “My perfect picture of him?” he snapped back. “You’ve just never appreciated what he did for us!”
In the corner of his vision, he saw Benny so close to Sam he could just reach out and grab for him effectively from behind. He didn’t care for the threat. A vibrant rage was rising within his body, burning his insides like a white-hot metal. Sam’s next words added oil to ignite the fire. It was an old argument and Sam had used it so many times Dean had lost count.
“Since I wasn’t the good little son he wanted and always had in you, I had a different opinion on him!”
Good little son, good little soldier, robot without a brain not able to function on his own without his father’s orders. Dean laughed, turning his back to Sam, rubbing his eyes. Fuck. In one swift motion he spun around and punched Sam square in the jaw with such power his brother stumbled a few steps back.
A stunned silence set in. The only noise Dean heard was his own harsh breathing. He ignored the pain of his knuckles. He waited. Sam kneaded his bruised skin, glaring at him with a final determination. And Dean realized too late what a huge mistake he’d just done.
“Fine, you want it this way?” Sam straightened up, never breaking eye contact with Dean. The room stilled, and the only things Dean could perceive were his brother’s hazel orbs. Usually warm, they were so cold now, as Sam started saying with such a cruel precision directly to Dean, “I want to see everything important I don’t know about you.”
Then everything erupted into motion again. Dean saw Benny launching at Sam, while his head exploded in thousands of pictures, voices, feelings, all mingling together. It was too much. Just like before. He bent over, catching his head in a vice grip. He felt Cas’ hands on him, guiding him toward the bed. The warm touch was the last thing he experienced before the darkness took over his mind. All that he’d tried so hard to forget came rushing back, laughing mockingly.
chapter four
chapter two
- Dean -
The hard kick to consciousness struck unexpectedly, always coming after the nightmares took over his dreams. It woke Dean up with a start. Only years of practice didn’t allow his body the natural response it craved. He didn’t flinch, didn’t jerk awake with flying fists or sit up too fast.
Instead, he brought his five senses to alertness, trying to find his bearings inconspicuously. Dad had taught him and Sam to visualize the environment they’re in before they showed any signs of awareness. That way, they’d be prepared for everything and less likely to get killed. As per usual, he started with the touch. The rough material underneath his fingertips was close to the sensation of the cheap motel sheets. A pillow was put under his head. He was lying on a bed.
When he felt a familiar presence sitting next to him, he skipped the other senses quickly and outright opened his eyes, wincing at the dull pain pulsating through his whole body.
“Cas?” he rasped, as the angel came into view, ever the silent guardian, towering over him.
Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. It was hot, burning through the layers of clothing, grounding him. “Yes, Dean, it’s me. You are safe now.”
Dean frowned in confusion; his thoughts distant, memories blurry. Cas’ weirder-than-usual behavior unnerved him. “Yeah, okay… thanks, I, uh… I guess?”
He glanced around, immediately regretting the action as his vision started spinning, and a new, sharper pain exploded behind his eyelids. Cas inclined his head, studying him, which made Dean a whole lot more uncomfortable.
“You are in pain,” the angel stated.
Dean opened his dry mouth to retort, “No shit, Sherlock,” but Castiel was quicker. He had the palm of his left hand placed gently but firmly on Dean’s brow within seconds, silencing the upcoming words.
Cas had done this for him so many times and yet, with Dean lying on the bed practically beneath the angel, feeling vulnerable and not liking it at all, the gesture seemed very intimate. It should have freaked him out, but Dean was too tired to give a damn. He tilted his head back, leaning shamelessly into the touch, seeking comfort, and closed his eyes. The hand on his shoulder came to rest lower, copying Cas’ handprint he’d left there whilst getting Dean out of Hell. The prickling energy jolting between them at the contact was not something Dean only imagined. It was real… felt nice.
When Cas retreated the warm hand, Dean cleared his throat. He felt immensely better. The headache vanishing like it had never been there. “Uh, so what happened? Where’re Sam and Benny?”
Wrinkles appeared on Cas’ forehead, making him look sorrowful, though he didn’t let it tarnish the clarity of his voice. “What do you remember, Dean?”
Dean worried his lower lip, thinking. “The-the witch… her saying something about buying herself some time… She told Sammy she had a gift for him… Where’s Sam, Cas?” He tried to get up but the angel held him down. What the hell?
“He will be here in a moment. He and the vampire are alright.”
“Oh… okay…” Dean scrubbed at his eyes. They still felt heavy and tired, despite Cas having him cured from the headache. “Cas, what the hell happened?”
The angel looked guilty and weary at the same time. That meant trouble. To confirm Dean’s suspicion that something had gone terribly wrong, and leaving his stomach in knots, Cas seemed to have a hard time forcing himself to confess.
“I believe we experienced one of your memories,” was what finally came out, and shook Dean to the core. His heartbeat quickened immediately. Cas’ hand on him no longer felt reassuring. It became restricting, trapping him without any chance for escape. ”Wh-what do you mean?”
Castiel wouldn’t meet his eyes. He gripped him tightly, painfully, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself which was really freaking disturbing.
“What do you mean?” Dean repeated more firmly, his voice getting harsh in spite of his efforts to sound calm and uncaring, as if there was nothing to hide. He laughed inwardly, hysterically… as if there was nothing to hide…
The angel actually looked flustered after his outburst, and Dean wondered how far Cas could look into him right now… if he was aware of the swirling emotions, if he knew how much and why Dean was truly panicking. What if-
What if he saw right through him, all the way in?
“What do you see?” Dean whispered, terrified, fixing his eyes on the angel.
The blue of Cas’ irises mellowed, became clear like a summer’s sky. Cas leaned forward, opened his mouth, and Dean dreaded what he’d learn. How the angel viewed him, everything Cas knew. It had never occurred to him how important the answer was going to be for him before he’d asked. But now, when it was out there in plain sight, Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know. What if Cas saw everything horrible that hid inside him? He was an angel. He could do that.
“I don’t see your life, Dean,” Cas said, and Dean could breathe a little again. Then the angel had to ruin it when he added, “I see you.”
That wasn’t a victory. That was the worst he’d ever thought of himself laid bare for Cas’ eyes. He looked at Dean and saw his faults, knew of the dirt and failures that were embedded deep in his soul.
How could he be aware of all that and still stay in the same room as Dean?
“Do you see it?” he asked, voice wavering.
Cas parted his lips, and Dean prepared himself mentally for the inevitable “Yes.”
Before Cas could answer, a door slammed open, rescuing Dean from hearing the one thing he’d never wanted to hear. Sam burst into the room, looking furious. Benny went calmly after him, with no care for the world, closing the door again more cautiously.
Sam’s eyes wandered once sharply around the room, settling on Cas. “What the hell, man? You can’t just take off like that!”
Then he saw Dean was awake, and a new jungle of emotions started battling across his face. Worry, sorrow, guilt, anger, every emotion worse than the previous one, and Dean was in no condition to have the talk which he could see forming fast in his brother’s head. Sam wanted to know and Dean would be damned if he let him.
“So, Sammy. You got that bitch?” he asked, hoping to distract his brother. Sam’s gaze shot to Castiel and in that exact moment, Dean knew he lost. His brother realized Cas had told Dean about the memory trip, and adding Dean’s skittish behavior to the equation, Sammy put two and two together.
Anger won over his features as Sam stalked toward the bed.
Dean shook off Cas’ hand and scrambled up. He swayed a little but managed to hold himself upright. He would not let Sam shout at him from above. He needed to feel in control for this conversation.
“What the fuck was that, Dean?”
Dean winced. Swearing Sammy never meant anything good. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently. He saw Benny taking the far side of the room, watching the interaction with interest, yet from a safe distance. Bastard.
“What do I mean?!” Sam rounded on Dean, striding into his personal space.
Dean had to raise his head. Damn little brother was a giant now. He was looming over Dean, eyebrows knotting together, nostrils flaring, mouth slightly pouty with corners turned down. Dean’s least favorite bitchface, one that usually preceded a hissy fit, and meant Sammy was seriously pissed. It sounded funny but really wasn’t. And nothing good ever came out of it.
To top it all, Dean still didn’t know of what memory they all talked about. He feared the worst but he couldn’t afford to let his brain freeze or panic before he’d find out for sure.
“I mean you, your goddamn revolver and your mouth!” Sam answered his question with small angry droplets of spit landing on Dean’s face.
Dean wiped them off with his sleeve, making a face. So the fuss was about this one particular memory. Not exactly the top of his life. He now at least understood why Sam was so angry. Dean would have gone ballistic was he ever to find out that Sammy had wanted to end himself, the word ballistic being a hard understatement.
Dean would tear the world apart, and find whoever was responsible then tear them apart, only to bring them back from death to do it all over again. He would never let Sammy out of sight, and would give him one hell of a time for not ever telling Dean. He would yell at Sam for not trusting him enough.
He would do all that and more, and all the while feel like a huge disappointment, because he’d failed his brother, hadn’t been able to protect him.
But that’s not what happened here.
This wasn’t about Sam. No. It wasn’t about his faults, because Sammy had never done anything wrong. He just hadn’t been there, had his own problems to take care of. And Dean had always respected the boundaries. He didn’t understand them, but he let them be. It was Sam’s wish.
Dean would never consider burdening his brother with some parts of his life. One person to know had been enough, and even he left. Realizing finally just how damaged Dean was, he simply went and never looked back, creating another invincible boundary. Because that’s what people in Dean’s life did all the time. They put distance between them and him. Nothing he did was ever good enough.
What if Sammy would leave him again when Dean told him? He couldn’t risk it.
Schooling down his expression, he said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” It was cheap but he had to try. Sue him.
Benny raised an eyebrow and Cas got that dissatisfied expression, telling him, “Lying isn’t good for your soul.” Dean crossed his arms defensively over the chest, holding out.
Sam ran a hand through his hair in one jerky frustrated move, tugging at the strands. “Unbelievable.” Raising his head up to stare at the ceiling, looking like he was praying to God for patience, he made something like a half turn then got back into Dean’s face. “Look me in the eyes and repeat it,” he challenged.
Dean shuffled nervously on spot, quiet. He had always hated lying to Sammy, and truth be told, they had lied to each other often enough for him to start hating it even more. He promised himself not to ever do it again, especially after Benny, and the Amelia fake text, but… It was better this way for all of them, because this way, he wouldn’t be abandoned by them. It was selfish, but Dean needed to have someone in his life. He needed his brother, his friend. He needed Cas.
He wouldn’t survive losing them and if all it took was one small lie, so be it. Hopefully, they would leave it at that.
That’s why he did what his brother had asked for, facial expressions under tight control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His heart was thumping loudly, yelling Liar! Liar!, but Dean couldn’t open this can of worms. It would ruin him.
Benny snorted loudly in his corner and Dean shot the vampire a silencing glare. Cas stood up next to him, looking even more disappointed than moments ago, making Dean feel like the biggest scum. They all knew he was lying, that it hadn’t been the witch’s idea of a sick joke. Well, it had been a sick joke, just based on real events.
Benny had somehow been always able to tell when Dean was lying and when telling the truth, and Cas could read him like an open book. He saw into his mind and soul like they belonged to him. It was given they both knew he was bullshitting them.
Sammy though, Sammy didn’t need to be a great observer or a freaking mentalist to see through his brother. He grew up with Dean. He knew him. And now, he looked at Dean with the same disappointment as Cas did. Like Dean had deliberately hurt them and was stabbing into the open wounds just for kicks.
Dean gritted his teeth. Fuck them all. They had no right to make him feel guilty when he’d done nothing wrong but protected himself. It was his life, his decisions. He wouldn’t let them poke in it. He wouldn’t allow them to learn the truth and leave him.
Sam’s eyes hardened. “You know what, Dean?” he said in a cold voice and Dean didn’t like where this was heading. “The witch said this was my show. I don’t think she’d stop with just one memory. I think that if I wanted to, I could see everything right now.”
Dean was ready to deny adamantly that whatever they’d witnessed was in no way his memory when the rest of the words came to him. His eyes widened as opposed to Sam’s. Cas tensed up and Benny moved closer.
“So you either tell me why you pulled the damn trigger or I find out on my own,” Sam spat. He was beyond angry and Dean understood. He honestly did… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him, them, and if Sam’s theory proved to be right, he couldn’t let him do it either.
“You’re bluffing, you wouldn’t do that.” Dean tried desperately to play on Sammy’s sense of sympathy but his brother didn’t care. He was furious because he had to think that by killing himself, Dean had wanted to abandon him and dad. He had to think Dean didn’t care about them.
It was in no way true, but Sam was blindsided by his rage, seeing only the revolver before his eyes.
“Watch me,” Sam hissed, making a real promise out of a possibly empty threat.
Instantly, Cas placed himself between Dean and Sam like a protective shield with a harsh shove of his mojo. It made them both take a step backwards. “You shouldn’t do it, Sam. If it’s Dean’s wish-”
Sam laughed bitterly and it sent shivers down Dean’s spine. He rarely experienced his brother like this. It signaled seconds before he snapped. It meant arguing turned to blood, fighting. It meant leaving. Memories of the night Sam left for Stanford flooded Dean’s head, making him dizzy. He couldn’t let it happen again.
Benny neared Sam from behind, prepared for a fight, to protect Dean. It seemed like it was encoded into the vampire’s blood to be there for Dean when he needed him. Dean wondered if he’d ever thanked him for it properly... probably not. He’d have to fix it, tell Benny just how much he appreciated their friendship. The vampire was the only person who’d never betrayed Dean, who always stood by his side, and never created the stupid boundaries. Even a whole year spent together, day and night, didn’t drive him away. It’s almost like he thought Dean was worth the effort.
“I should have expected you’d side with Dean,” Sam bit out at Cas, and Dean had had enough. He sidestepped the angel and went up to Sam’s face. A soft breeze over his skin signaled Cas’ power tentatively reaching out to him. Dean ignored it.
“Cut the crap, Sam,” he snapped. Sam shouldn’t be venting his anger at Cas. It wasn’t right. “I swear that if you as much as try to look at my memories again, we’re done. I’ll never forgive you.” He was pressing his luck, he knew it, risking that Sam left sooner than later, but maybe, just maybe, the offensive strategy was going to work better.
Like a flash, Sam’s eyes softened all of a sudden. “Is it that bad?” he asked gently, too fucking gently, and Dean realized he’d just thrown up the whole ignorance act into thin air. He was such a moron.
“Why, Dean?” Sam pushed. “Why would you do something so… so stupid?”
Why… funny question. Like what he did could be explained by one sentence, one reason, and be done. Sammy thought that he’d ask, Dean would answer, and Sam would somehow magically deal with the one problem?
He didn’t realize that it was Dean’s whole freaking life that was the problem… the single reason consisting from hundreds of details. There were big events, tiny ones. They were all life-changing. He couldn’t even put it in words, and Sam wanted to know why?
“You don’t understand-“
“Then help me understand!”
“No,” Dean shook his head. It was impossible to explain and more so, he didn’t even want to. It was tempting, just to load off, but he had to keep in mind he did this so they wouldn’t leave. It was important to stay quiet. “No, no…”
“What happened?” Sam demanded, and when Dean merely kept shaking his head and started retreating, he got more aggressive. “Was it because of the hunting? School? Girl?” Sam was cornering him with questions, firing off possibilities, scanning Dean’s reactions to the suggestions with his sharp eyes. “Was it because of me? Did dad do something?”
Dean ran a hand over his face, chuckling darkly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Sam frowned angrily, all traces of the softness gone just as abruptly as they’d appeared. Mentioning their dad did that a lot, especially when they’d been kids. It had been pretty easy to make Sammy’s blood boil. All it took was mentioning John Winchester.
“Yeah,” Sam growled, “because dad was so perfect he’d never do anything to hurt us, right?”
Dean glared at his brother. “No, he wouldn’t. He always did his best. He pushed us hard because he had to. Otherwise, we wouldn’t survive a damn second out there.”
“He shouldn’t have even dragged us out there!” Sam countered. His opinion on what’s best for children had always differed from their dad’s. “We were kids! He should have settled down, he should have raised us like a normal parent. Look at where it got you!”
He was referring to the fucking memory. “It wasn’t his fault, okay?” Dean shouted. “And normal parents don’t know about the monsters waiting to chew their little kids for a snack.” They were fighting. When did that happen? They were good hours ago, bickering, teasing Cas. Why did everything have to go to hell every damn time? “Dad did it to protect us!”
“He did it for revenge!” Sam yelled. “He may have told us some crap about preparing or protecting us, but you know damn well he did it to kill that demon!”
Dean flinched. Touché. It hurt to hear it. “Just… shut up, Sam.”
“So I don’t shatter your perfect picture of him?”
“Sam,” Cas warned, but was ignored.
Dean was quickly losing his temper. To argue was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to defend their dad, when the man himself couldn’t be here to do so… when he’d thrown away his life for Dean. “My perfect picture of him?” he snapped back. “You’ve just never appreciated what he did for us!”
In the corner of his vision, he saw Benny so close to Sam he could just reach out and grab for him effectively from behind. He didn’t care for the threat. A vibrant rage was rising within his body, burning his insides like a white-hot metal. Sam’s next words added oil to ignite the fire. It was an old argument and Sam had used it so many times Dean had lost count.
“Since I wasn’t the good little son he wanted and always had in you, I had a different opinion on him!”
Good little son, good little soldier, robot without a brain not able to function on his own without his father’s orders. Dean laughed, turning his back to Sam, rubbing his eyes. Fuck. In one swift motion he spun around and punched Sam square in the jaw with such power his brother stumbled a few steps back.
A stunned silence set in. The only noise Dean heard was his own harsh breathing. He ignored the pain of his knuckles. He waited. Sam kneaded his bruised skin, glaring at him with a final determination. And Dean realized too late what a huge mistake he’d just done.
“Fine, you want it this way?” Sam straightened up, never breaking eye contact with Dean. The room stilled, and the only things Dean could perceive were his brother’s hazel orbs. Usually warm, they were so cold now, as Sam started saying with such a cruel precision directly to Dean, “I want to see everything important I don’t know about you.”
Then everything erupted into motion again. Dean saw Benny launching at Sam, while his head exploded in thousands of pictures, voices, feelings, all mingling together. It was too much. Just like before. He bent over, catching his head in a vice grip. He felt Cas’ hands on him, guiding him toward the bed. The warm touch was the last thing he experienced before the darkness took over his mind. All that he’d tried so hard to forget came rushing back, laughing mockingly.
chapter four
chapter two