Shadows 04
As promised, here's the next chapter. Hope you'll enjoy :)
A/N: To avoid confusions: When I'm writing scenes with Dean as a child and teenager, I'm visualizing Jensen Ackles (thus the blonde hair, etc.), not the actors that played him.
- Sam -
Sam was fighting Benny off so at first he hadn't noticed the change. His body felt too light, feet no longer bearing his weight. The only real thing was Benny's fist connecting with his head, marking the other side of his bruised jaw. Sam cursed and punched back, disoriented. The vampire easily sidestepped him, ready for another go.
Sam moved just in time to avoid the next flying fist. "Dammit, stop!" he shouted.
Having more time, Sam would savor the thrill that his spontaneous, and honestly rash and ill-conceived plan, worked. He'd surely feel also incredibly guilty for betraying Dean's fragile trust. He was already becoming terrified of the consequences. What if Dean never forgave him? If he had the time, he could start freaking out.
He however didn't have the luxury, the vampire capturing Sam's whole attention on himself.
When Benny grinned like the predator he was, Sam wished Dean would finally see this true form of the monster. "Worried you can't get at me without a badass machete?"
Sam reached for his pocket knife that was, surprisingly, still on him. He briefly wondered how it was possible for the weapon to be there. Was it just part of his imagination? The knife seemed so real, just like the pocket it was in. He could feel the metal through the layer of cloth.
Benny spread his hands in invitation. "Wanna find out if I can kill ya inside Dean's head? See what happens."
Sam heard himself growl. He shot forth, but another's hand appeared in front of his chest, making him stop. "I would advise against that," Castiel said in a barely held calm voice. "It's possible that any harm done to our presences here can reflect upon the physical bodies."
Sam tore his eyes off of Benny and rubbed his hurting jaw carefully, stretching it. "So this is our minds here?"
"Minds is an inaccurate definition. This is closer to a transfer of one's inner being. My vessel, together with your bodies, is lying where it was left."
Sam frowned, processing the facts. "So, shouldn't you look like, you know, you instead of Jimmy?"
Castiel spared him a quick glance before looking away. "I am able to mask my true form, since your eyes would burn seeing it. I'm also currently leveling down my powers. They could cause damage to Dean's brain."
Sam wasn't sure he understood everything the angel said but he decided not to dwell on it too long. Even this small amount of information made his head hurt... which brought him to a question. How could he feel his head-and his poor jaw-hurting if he was only a presence here without any actual body?
That made his head hurt even more.
He looked at Cas for some kind of explanation but the angel was deliberately avoiding any eye contact. He was angry with Sam for doing this against Dean's will, but that was fine. Sam didn't need his blessing. Castiel would never understand the pain Sam felt from learning about the heartbreaking fragment of his brother's life that he'd not been aware of. It was like a stab in his back, and hurt much more than that.
"How come we're here with the princess?" Benny asked, temporarily giving up trying to rip Sam to shreds. Sam chose to ignore the nickname in favor of hearing the answer.
Cas seemed lost. "I don't know," he confessed. "Even the fact that we are able to relive these memories should be impossible. The structure of them is very realistic, and no witch should be able to achieve that with their powers."
"But she was a witch, right?" Sam said.
Cas nodded. "I believe so, but with powers I've never heard of. It makes me wonder how she obtained them..."
"Hey, watch it, runt!" someone shouted, snapping them to attention. They'd been too busy with arguing and discussing the laws of memory travel, they'd completely shut out everything else.
So, only now did Sam look around. They were standing on a patch of grass, which was part of a shopping street buzzing with hustle of moving people. A low fence that enclosed the grass protected them from the crowds.
A boy had bumped into a man, getting nearly knocked down. The guy scolded him instead of making sure the kid was alright, though it didn't seem to matter to the boy. He merely waved his hand as an apology and continued in his journey indifferently.
Just as Sam took everything in, hunter instincts minding the smallest details-green awning at a coffee shop, marble fountain with a small mermaid gushing water down into a chalice, a girl with a lollipop sitting on a bench with her grandpa, kicking her feet up and down-a person, one of the many memory people, strode over the fence and onto the grass, going right through him. The man stepped in and out of Sam's body like he wasn't there, because he wasn't there.
Sam didn't feel anything, no pain, nothing, but the shock from the simple fact that someone did that made him jump, ducking instinctively away, and colliding with Cas. The angel's solid arm steadied him, having an immediate calming effect that Sam very much appreciated.
"Thanks," he murmured, while his eyes searched for the boy who'd been shouted at. Sam's subconscious was urging him to follow the kid, telling him it had to be Dean.
Finding him in the swarm of people, he motioned for his two companions to follow, and, ignoring Cas calling his name, he started off after the kid. He cautiously stepped over the fence and dodged another seven people on his way, not wanting to have someone else coming through him again, and finally caught up with the boy. He sensed Cas and Benny at his back. Apparantly, curiosity won over their disapproval.
Around the corner, Sam inhaled the fresh aroma of coffee. He could taste it on his tongue like it were real, and Sam had to remind himself that it was just part of the memory, the surprisingly realistic memory, with laws even Cas wasn't able to explain. It should have set Sam on edge, turned on his alarms, but he was too preoccupied with savoring this beautiful part of Dean's past to worry.
It was a summer day. People sat outside at the rounded tables of a café, ordering hot drinks or milkshakes, driving teaspoons into glorious smelling cakes. The high clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, and Sam exposed his face for the sun rays to warm his cheeks.
"I still don't get it," he said aloud. "I can feel everything that's here, smell it. But I'm not here?"
Cas was quiet for a very long time. Sam started to wonder if the angel had decided to ignore him as some sort of punishment. Just then, Castiel finally replied, "Like I said, the memories are very powerful…" He sounded disturbed.
The kid turned left and so did they. When the boy slowed down and then stopped altogether, hidden from the main street by a large, ancient tree, Sam was able to make sure it was really his brother. Startling green eyes, golden locks, too many freckles to count; yep, that was Dean. He couldn't be more than seven years old though. What was he doing alone on the street? Sam felt the familiar surge of disdain at their father for letting Dean out of sight when he was so young to protect himself.
Dean shoved his small hand into a pocket and took out a black leathered wallet. Smirking, he went through the contents, leaving everything but the money in, and threw the now useless wallet over his shoulder without a care. He smiled to himself while counting the bills, stuffing them into his jeans.
Benny laughed out loud and Sam glowered at him, finding the situation more horrifying than funny. His seven year old brother had been picking pockets. He should have been playing with other kids like Sam had always attempted to do when he was this age, not… aspiring towards a thieving career. That could have got him into serious trouble.
"It's not funny," he snapped at the vampire.
Benny immediately put on a solemn face. "Of course not." Now, he was deliberately making fun of Sam.
"Then why did you laugh?" Cas asked in all seriousness.
Benny adjusted his cap. "Oh, you heard that?" he said, amused, and turned back to Dean, who emerged from behind the tree.
Taking a walk down the main street, Dean approached a toy-shop's window, searching for something. He had to find it because he nodded to himself once before coming in. A doorbell rang, and Sam managed to squeeze in just before the door closed behind. Logically, Sam knew he'd be able to come through but the thought itself made him uncomfortable. Cas and Benny had apparently no problem with defying physical laws. They both stepped right through the glass of the window and the toys on display.
The room itself was full of dolls, models of cars, stuffed animals, kites, and much more, to the point of being almost crowded. Dean weaved his way through, eyes roaming over the shelves, stands and a table with a beautiful wooden train. He walked past it all, never lingering, hunting for the one thing he'd come here for.
When he stopped, it was to pick up a stuffed teddy bear from a shelf. He eyed the toy critically, fast-approving, and delivered it to an elderly clerk. He tugged out the stolen money and put them next to the stuffed toy. The man behind the cashier's desk smiled brightly at him. "Will that be all, young sir?" He was teasing Dean for his age and the fact he was here alone, buying a fluffy teddy bear.
Dean frowned, showing his dislike with the man joking on his expense. Nonetheless, he nodded. The man showed his teeth in another wide smile, taking the money while getting his cash box opened. "Not up for a little chat, I see," he commented while picking up some coins in return.
Dean shook his head. No.
Sam furrowed his brow, trying to decipher what his brother was attempting to achieve with the non-talking thing.
"You don't look like the shy type," the clerk mused aloud, making Sam snort. Comparing Dean to someone shy was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in a long time, if ever. "Was it always like this?" the man asked, and Dean shook his head again.
The clerk's eyes warmed, recognizing something in Dean's muteness that Sam didn't. He gave him the change. "Don't worry, it'll pass," he assured like he knew what was going on. Removing a bracelet from a small stand, he handed it over to Dean's palm, enclosing his fingers around the small hand. "Now, this is a gift from our shop. When you're grown enough and can talk again, you can put it on. Deal?"
Dean studied the bracelet before smiling at the man. Sam recognized the gift as one of Dean's bracelets he'd once worn.
"Dean didn't talk when he was a child," Castiel breathed in understanding.
Benny turned to him with crossed arms over his chest. "Come now, aren't you an almighty angel who knows everything?"
Cas didn't take his eyes off of little Dean, who wrapped his arms protectively around the teddy bear, and beamed at the clerk. "Yes, but I am not to be privy to others lives. I must confess I wanted to… take a peek, as you would say, but Dean told me to mind people's privacy. So I did."
Benny arched his eyebrows in amusement. "And you listened to him? Just like that? Damn you've got it bad."
Castiel's demeanor turned irritated. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't."
Sam's lips twitched up. At least he wasn't the only one to see the sometimes blind loyalty the angel had in Dean. The vampire noticed as well.
He heard the doorbell clink again and the world around him faded, turning into blackness. This time, he at least managed to brace himself for the squeeze that came next.
They cropped up in a shady motel room. After the bright, colorful day, this place was like a hard shove back into reality; dark and shabby, like the majority of the places they had lived in.
A small bathroom mirror was positioned on a bed, leaning against a pillow so it stood without any other support. Dean sat cross-legged in front of it on the bed covers, hypnotizing his reflection. It looked like he'd wrenched the mirror off its hinges.
Sam took in the grey paint on the walls that was peeling off on most places. He also noticed the cold seeping through the improperly shut windows with musty drapes. It wasn't that someone didn't close them all the way. It was caused by the narrow gap in between the frame and the glass. It was simply a piss-poor job.
"Ain't that cute," Benny remarked, and Sam followed his gaze.
He saw his own toddler-ish version, maybe two, three-year old-Sam knew too little about kids to guess precisely-gnawing at the teddy bear Dean had bought in the previous memory. A trail of drool was running from the right corner of his mouth. It was anything but cute, although Sam guessed Benny's comment had nothing to do with affection, playing more on the sarcastic note.
"Hmm…" he grumbled, deciding to ignore the stupid vampire. He was busy with watching Dean, anyway.
His brother was repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate actual words, but nothing came out. By the point a cell phone rang on a dining table, he was getting frustrated, eyebrows knotting together in one angry line, his huge eyes narrowed to thin stripes.
Dean sighed and slid off the bed to get to the phone. Sam curiously peeked at the device. It was one of the better models that companies produced in eighties. Sam had once read somewhere that they weren't within the reach of most customers for the high prices, and he guessed that this one was bought from savings John could have possessed in the beginning of his hunter carrier. It would be a logical move from his father's perspective, to spend the money on the phone instead of a steady home or a school for his children.
After all, the man had always had his priorities, Sam thought bitterly.
The mobile phone was big and definitely impractical. The ringtone-if it could be called one-was irritating, quickly getting on his nerves. He was relieved when Dean answered the call, cutting the sound off.
He rushed to his brother to hear better when a familiar voice penetrated the quiet of the room. "John?"
"Bobby," Sam breathed, both happiness and sadness swelling in his heart. Bobby was long dead, and to hear him gruff and alive was bringing a wistful longing to be able to see him again.
Dean remained silent. He darted his eyes nervously around the room, his mouth hopelessly forming silent words.
Sam shot a glance toward Cas and Benny, who were standing a few feet away. They weren't leaning eagerly to the phone in order to listen to the conversation, though judging by the concentrated faces, they heard perfectly over the distance. Freaking supernatural creatures.
"Dean, is that you?" Bobby asked. He had to be accustomed to Dean not talking. John had to have been aware of the little condition as well, raising Sam and Dean, and Sam felt absurdly jealous for being the only one of their family who didn't know. He was left out, and it shouldn't hurt so much like it did.
After another long-stretched silence, filled by Dean tugging at his hair in frustration, Bobby sighed. "Okay, buddy, don't worry. One tap for yes, two for no. Understand?"
Dean started nodding but realized Bobby wouldn't know. He lied down on his side, watching Sam's small version tossing with the teddy up and down. He put his head onto the dirty tiled floor around the kitchenette. Once blue ceramic was nearly grey, ornamented with stains from food that had fallen down when previous short-termed owners cooked and didn't bother to clean afterwards. The motel's cleaning lady couldn't possibly be excited about her job as well...
Sam hurried to lie next to Dean, not minding the presence of Cas and Benny. If they had something to say to the enthusiasm with which Sam reacted, they should just voice it.
For a second, he expected the coldness of tiles to welcome him, but yet again, only the weird resistance carried his body. When they'd been in the alley of Dean's first memory, he didn't have time or the presence of mind to examine the physics of the memory. Now, he could give himself some time to poke around with his fingers and wiggle slightly with various body parts. It felt strange. Some force was keeping him from falling through the floor, but it was more than that. It was like a partly solid ground. It was there. It wasn't there.
Sam's head started hurting again. He stopped groping the floor, deciding he didn't need to understand the principals to relive what Dean experienced and wouldn't share. He sighed, seeing again Dean's stoic expression before his eyes. His brother had lied to him, so calmly. He had stood there, in front of Sam, and lied to his face.
Sam looked at his brother, dried lumps of grease getting in his line of sight. Gross.
Dean tapped once on the floor with his nail, putting the cellphone out so Bobby would hear.
"Good boy," the man praised him, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam smirked, his mood lifting. The future characteristics of his brother were starting to show even in this young age. It was the first time Sam recognized his Dean in this otherwise stranger to him. It made him absurdly happy.
He turned his head to the other side to see behind his back. Cas was watching them, or rather Dean, with an unusual fondness. If Sam had previously thought of Dean's vulnerability as weird, Cas' soft eyes were absolutely alien, from a different world.
Sam averted his gaze.
"Is your daddy there, kid?" Bobby asked.
Dean tapped twice. No.
Bobby snorted. "No, of course not. Why would he be?"
Dean rubbed his freckled nose with a finger of his left hand. The rest of the arm was getting mashed under the side of his body. He balled up a little.
As if sensing the distress, Bobby hurried to apology. "Sorry kid. I know he's… busy, or whatever. I just wanted to check up on ya, s'all. D'you know when he comes back?"
The disdain was tangible in Bobby's voice. Just like Sam, he'd never agreed with John on how to raise children. Sam remembered the last time the two spoke to each other, his dad facing the barrel side of the Winchester rifle. It was a memorable moment. Sam could visualize the chilly autumn day as if it'd happened yesterday.
Dean had first tried to calm the two men down of course, ever the natural peacekeeper, but that time, it didn't help. Both John and Bobby were too worked up, angry beyond repair. Somehow, Dean's steady pleases only made matters worse.
Sam had been sent into the truck when the fight began. Dean quickly followed. That's when Bobby took out the rifle.
Sam snorted. It had been possibly the only time he'd seen something akin to fear in John Winchester's eyes.
Dean tapped twice on the tiles.
"Okay, buddy," Bobby said, "promise to call me if he ain't back in three hours."
Dean tapped once.
"Yeah… yeah, alright…" Bobby became silent for a moment. "D'you need anything?"
Twice. No.
Bobby laughed warmly. "Sure, you have it under control."
Once. Of course.
Bobby laughed again. "Okay then. Say hello to Sam for me, or y'know, wave at him."
Dean tapped once, smiling a little.
"Fine, buddy. See ya." With that, the call disconnected.
Dean didn't move for a long time. He watched small Sam trashing the teddy bear. When the child raised his head, sensing eyes on him, Dean's smile turned soft, loving. "Bobby says hi," he whispered in the tiniest voice, that Sam wouldn't have possibly caught if he hadn't been subconsciously waiting for it. He felt the corners of his mouth stretch impossibly wide, and turned to Cas and Benny. He wasn't sure what message he was sending them with the grin. Dean's quiet words sparked a triumph within him.
His brother was a fighter, always had been. Everything that was thrown under his feet, he strode over with a grace owned solely by him.
Yeah, Sam was proud of his big brother.
So what.
chapter five
chapter three
A/N: To avoid confusions: When I'm writing scenes with Dean as a child and teenager, I'm visualizing Jensen Ackles (thus the blonde hair, etc.), not the actors that played him.
- Sam -
Sam was fighting Benny off so at first he hadn't noticed the change. His body felt too light, feet no longer bearing his weight. The only real thing was Benny's fist connecting with his head, marking the other side of his bruised jaw. Sam cursed and punched back, disoriented. The vampire easily sidestepped him, ready for another go.
Sam moved just in time to avoid the next flying fist. "Dammit, stop!" he shouted.
Having more time, Sam would savor the thrill that his spontaneous, and honestly rash and ill-conceived plan, worked. He'd surely feel also incredibly guilty for betraying Dean's fragile trust. He was already becoming terrified of the consequences. What if Dean never forgave him? If he had the time, he could start freaking out.
He however didn't have the luxury, the vampire capturing Sam's whole attention on himself.
When Benny grinned like the predator he was, Sam wished Dean would finally see this true form of the monster. "Worried you can't get at me without a badass machete?"
Sam reached for his pocket knife that was, surprisingly, still on him. He briefly wondered how it was possible for the weapon to be there. Was it just part of his imagination? The knife seemed so real, just like the pocket it was in. He could feel the metal through the layer of cloth.
Benny spread his hands in invitation. "Wanna find out if I can kill ya inside Dean's head? See what happens."
Sam heard himself growl. He shot forth, but another's hand appeared in front of his chest, making him stop. "I would advise against that," Castiel said in a barely held calm voice. "It's possible that any harm done to our presences here can reflect upon the physical bodies."
Sam tore his eyes off of Benny and rubbed his hurting jaw carefully, stretching it. "So this is our minds here?"
"Minds is an inaccurate definition. This is closer to a transfer of one's inner being. My vessel, together with your bodies, is lying where it was left."
Sam frowned, processing the facts. "So, shouldn't you look like, you know, you instead of Jimmy?"
Castiel spared him a quick glance before looking away. "I am able to mask my true form, since your eyes would burn seeing it. I'm also currently leveling down my powers. They could cause damage to Dean's brain."
Sam wasn't sure he understood everything the angel said but he decided not to dwell on it too long. Even this small amount of information made his head hurt... which brought him to a question. How could he feel his head-and his poor jaw-hurting if he was only a presence here without any actual body?
That made his head hurt even more.
He looked at Cas for some kind of explanation but the angel was deliberately avoiding any eye contact. He was angry with Sam for doing this against Dean's will, but that was fine. Sam didn't need his blessing. Castiel would never understand the pain Sam felt from learning about the heartbreaking fragment of his brother's life that he'd not been aware of. It was like a stab in his back, and hurt much more than that.
"How come we're here with the princess?" Benny asked, temporarily giving up trying to rip Sam to shreds. Sam chose to ignore the nickname in favor of hearing the answer.
Cas seemed lost. "I don't know," he confessed. "Even the fact that we are able to relive these memories should be impossible. The structure of them is very realistic, and no witch should be able to achieve that with their powers."
"But she was a witch, right?" Sam said.
Cas nodded. "I believe so, but with powers I've never heard of. It makes me wonder how she obtained them..."
"Hey, watch it, runt!" someone shouted, snapping them to attention. They'd been too busy with arguing and discussing the laws of memory travel, they'd completely shut out everything else.
So, only now did Sam look around. They were standing on a patch of grass, which was part of a shopping street buzzing with hustle of moving people. A low fence that enclosed the grass protected them from the crowds.
A boy had bumped into a man, getting nearly knocked down. The guy scolded him instead of making sure the kid was alright, though it didn't seem to matter to the boy. He merely waved his hand as an apology and continued in his journey indifferently.
Just as Sam took everything in, hunter instincts minding the smallest details-green awning at a coffee shop, marble fountain with a small mermaid gushing water down into a chalice, a girl with a lollipop sitting on a bench with her grandpa, kicking her feet up and down-a person, one of the many memory people, strode over the fence and onto the grass, going right through him. The man stepped in and out of Sam's body like he wasn't there, because he wasn't there.
Sam didn't feel anything, no pain, nothing, but the shock from the simple fact that someone did that made him jump, ducking instinctively away, and colliding with Cas. The angel's solid arm steadied him, having an immediate calming effect that Sam very much appreciated.
"Thanks," he murmured, while his eyes searched for the boy who'd been shouted at. Sam's subconscious was urging him to follow the kid, telling him it had to be Dean.
Finding him in the swarm of people, he motioned for his two companions to follow, and, ignoring Cas calling his name, he started off after the kid. He cautiously stepped over the fence and dodged another seven people on his way, not wanting to have someone else coming through him again, and finally caught up with the boy. He sensed Cas and Benny at his back. Apparantly, curiosity won over their disapproval.
Around the corner, Sam inhaled the fresh aroma of coffee. He could taste it on his tongue like it were real, and Sam had to remind himself that it was just part of the memory, the surprisingly realistic memory, with laws even Cas wasn't able to explain. It should have set Sam on edge, turned on his alarms, but he was too preoccupied with savoring this beautiful part of Dean's past to worry.
It was a summer day. People sat outside at the rounded tables of a café, ordering hot drinks or milkshakes, driving teaspoons into glorious smelling cakes. The high clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, and Sam exposed his face for the sun rays to warm his cheeks.
"I still don't get it," he said aloud. "I can feel everything that's here, smell it. But I'm not here?"
Cas was quiet for a very long time. Sam started to wonder if the angel had decided to ignore him as some sort of punishment. Just then, Castiel finally replied, "Like I said, the memories are very powerful…" He sounded disturbed.
The kid turned left and so did they. When the boy slowed down and then stopped altogether, hidden from the main street by a large, ancient tree, Sam was able to make sure it was really his brother. Startling green eyes, golden locks, too many freckles to count; yep, that was Dean. He couldn't be more than seven years old though. What was he doing alone on the street? Sam felt the familiar surge of disdain at their father for letting Dean out of sight when he was so young to protect himself.
Dean shoved his small hand into a pocket and took out a black leathered wallet. Smirking, he went through the contents, leaving everything but the money in, and threw the now useless wallet over his shoulder without a care. He smiled to himself while counting the bills, stuffing them into his jeans.
Benny laughed out loud and Sam glowered at him, finding the situation more horrifying than funny. His seven year old brother had been picking pockets. He should have been playing with other kids like Sam had always attempted to do when he was this age, not… aspiring towards a thieving career. That could have got him into serious trouble.
"It's not funny," he snapped at the vampire.
Benny immediately put on a solemn face. "Of course not." Now, he was deliberately making fun of Sam.
"Then why did you laugh?" Cas asked in all seriousness.
Benny adjusted his cap. "Oh, you heard that?" he said, amused, and turned back to Dean, who emerged from behind the tree.
Taking a walk down the main street, Dean approached a toy-shop's window, searching for something. He had to find it because he nodded to himself once before coming in. A doorbell rang, and Sam managed to squeeze in just before the door closed behind. Logically, Sam knew he'd be able to come through but the thought itself made him uncomfortable. Cas and Benny had apparently no problem with defying physical laws. They both stepped right through the glass of the window and the toys on display.
The room itself was full of dolls, models of cars, stuffed animals, kites, and much more, to the point of being almost crowded. Dean weaved his way through, eyes roaming over the shelves, stands and a table with a beautiful wooden train. He walked past it all, never lingering, hunting for the one thing he'd come here for.
When he stopped, it was to pick up a stuffed teddy bear from a shelf. He eyed the toy critically, fast-approving, and delivered it to an elderly clerk. He tugged out the stolen money and put them next to the stuffed toy. The man behind the cashier's desk smiled brightly at him. "Will that be all, young sir?" He was teasing Dean for his age and the fact he was here alone, buying a fluffy teddy bear.
Dean frowned, showing his dislike with the man joking on his expense. Nonetheless, he nodded. The man showed his teeth in another wide smile, taking the money while getting his cash box opened. "Not up for a little chat, I see," he commented while picking up some coins in return.
Dean shook his head. No.
Sam furrowed his brow, trying to decipher what his brother was attempting to achieve with the non-talking thing.
"You don't look like the shy type," the clerk mused aloud, making Sam snort. Comparing Dean to someone shy was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in a long time, if ever. "Was it always like this?" the man asked, and Dean shook his head again.
The clerk's eyes warmed, recognizing something in Dean's muteness that Sam didn't. He gave him the change. "Don't worry, it'll pass," he assured like he knew what was going on. Removing a bracelet from a small stand, he handed it over to Dean's palm, enclosing his fingers around the small hand. "Now, this is a gift from our shop. When you're grown enough and can talk again, you can put it on. Deal?"
Dean studied the bracelet before smiling at the man. Sam recognized the gift as one of Dean's bracelets he'd once worn.
"Dean didn't talk when he was a child," Castiel breathed in understanding.
Benny turned to him with crossed arms over his chest. "Come now, aren't you an almighty angel who knows everything?"
Cas didn't take his eyes off of little Dean, who wrapped his arms protectively around the teddy bear, and beamed at the clerk. "Yes, but I am not to be privy to others lives. I must confess I wanted to… take a peek, as you would say, but Dean told me to mind people's privacy. So I did."
Benny arched his eyebrows in amusement. "And you listened to him? Just like that? Damn you've got it bad."
Castiel's demeanor turned irritated. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't."
Sam's lips twitched up. At least he wasn't the only one to see the sometimes blind loyalty the angel had in Dean. The vampire noticed as well.
He heard the doorbell clink again and the world around him faded, turning into blackness. This time, he at least managed to brace himself for the squeeze that came next.
They cropped up in a shady motel room. After the bright, colorful day, this place was like a hard shove back into reality; dark and shabby, like the majority of the places they had lived in.
A small bathroom mirror was positioned on a bed, leaning against a pillow so it stood without any other support. Dean sat cross-legged in front of it on the bed covers, hypnotizing his reflection. It looked like he'd wrenched the mirror off its hinges.
Sam took in the grey paint on the walls that was peeling off on most places. He also noticed the cold seeping through the improperly shut windows with musty drapes. It wasn't that someone didn't close them all the way. It was caused by the narrow gap in between the frame and the glass. It was simply a piss-poor job.
"Ain't that cute," Benny remarked, and Sam followed his gaze.
He saw his own toddler-ish version, maybe two, three-year old-Sam knew too little about kids to guess precisely-gnawing at the teddy bear Dean had bought in the previous memory. A trail of drool was running from the right corner of his mouth. It was anything but cute, although Sam guessed Benny's comment had nothing to do with affection, playing more on the sarcastic note.
"Hmm…" he grumbled, deciding to ignore the stupid vampire. He was busy with watching Dean, anyway.
His brother was repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate actual words, but nothing came out. By the point a cell phone rang on a dining table, he was getting frustrated, eyebrows knotting together in one angry line, his huge eyes narrowed to thin stripes.
Dean sighed and slid off the bed to get to the phone. Sam curiously peeked at the device. It was one of the better models that companies produced in eighties. Sam had once read somewhere that they weren't within the reach of most customers for the high prices, and he guessed that this one was bought from savings John could have possessed in the beginning of his hunter carrier. It would be a logical move from his father's perspective, to spend the money on the phone instead of a steady home or a school for his children.
After all, the man had always had his priorities, Sam thought bitterly.
The mobile phone was big and definitely impractical. The ringtone-if it could be called one-was irritating, quickly getting on his nerves. He was relieved when Dean answered the call, cutting the sound off.
He rushed to his brother to hear better when a familiar voice penetrated the quiet of the room. "John?"
"Bobby," Sam breathed, both happiness and sadness swelling in his heart. Bobby was long dead, and to hear him gruff and alive was bringing a wistful longing to be able to see him again.
Dean remained silent. He darted his eyes nervously around the room, his mouth hopelessly forming silent words.
Sam shot a glance toward Cas and Benny, who were standing a few feet away. They weren't leaning eagerly to the phone in order to listen to the conversation, though judging by the concentrated faces, they heard perfectly over the distance. Freaking supernatural creatures.
"Dean, is that you?" Bobby asked. He had to be accustomed to Dean not talking. John had to have been aware of the little condition as well, raising Sam and Dean, and Sam felt absurdly jealous for being the only one of their family who didn't know. He was left out, and it shouldn't hurt so much like it did.
After another long-stretched silence, filled by Dean tugging at his hair in frustration, Bobby sighed. "Okay, buddy, don't worry. One tap for yes, two for no. Understand?"
Dean started nodding but realized Bobby wouldn't know. He lied down on his side, watching Sam's small version tossing with the teddy up and down. He put his head onto the dirty tiled floor around the kitchenette. Once blue ceramic was nearly grey, ornamented with stains from food that had fallen down when previous short-termed owners cooked and didn't bother to clean afterwards. The motel's cleaning lady couldn't possibly be excited about her job as well...
Sam hurried to lie next to Dean, not minding the presence of Cas and Benny. If they had something to say to the enthusiasm with which Sam reacted, they should just voice it.
For a second, he expected the coldness of tiles to welcome him, but yet again, only the weird resistance carried his body. When they'd been in the alley of Dean's first memory, he didn't have time or the presence of mind to examine the physics of the memory. Now, he could give himself some time to poke around with his fingers and wiggle slightly with various body parts. It felt strange. Some force was keeping him from falling through the floor, but it was more than that. It was like a partly solid ground. It was there. It wasn't there.
Sam's head started hurting again. He stopped groping the floor, deciding he didn't need to understand the principals to relive what Dean experienced and wouldn't share. He sighed, seeing again Dean's stoic expression before his eyes. His brother had lied to him, so calmly. He had stood there, in front of Sam, and lied to his face.
Sam looked at his brother, dried lumps of grease getting in his line of sight. Gross.
Dean tapped once on the floor with his nail, putting the cellphone out so Bobby would hear.
"Good boy," the man praised him, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam smirked, his mood lifting. The future characteristics of his brother were starting to show even in this young age. It was the first time Sam recognized his Dean in this otherwise stranger to him. It made him absurdly happy.
He turned his head to the other side to see behind his back. Cas was watching them, or rather Dean, with an unusual fondness. If Sam had previously thought of Dean's vulnerability as weird, Cas' soft eyes were absolutely alien, from a different world.
Sam averted his gaze.
"Is your daddy there, kid?" Bobby asked.
Dean tapped twice. No.
Bobby snorted. "No, of course not. Why would he be?"
Dean rubbed his freckled nose with a finger of his left hand. The rest of the arm was getting mashed under the side of his body. He balled up a little.
As if sensing the distress, Bobby hurried to apology. "Sorry kid. I know he's… busy, or whatever. I just wanted to check up on ya, s'all. D'you know when he comes back?"
The disdain was tangible in Bobby's voice. Just like Sam, he'd never agreed with John on how to raise children. Sam remembered the last time the two spoke to each other, his dad facing the barrel side of the Winchester rifle. It was a memorable moment. Sam could visualize the chilly autumn day as if it'd happened yesterday.
Dean had first tried to calm the two men down of course, ever the natural peacekeeper, but that time, it didn't help. Both John and Bobby were too worked up, angry beyond repair. Somehow, Dean's steady pleases only made matters worse.
Sam had been sent into the truck when the fight began. Dean quickly followed. That's when Bobby took out the rifle.
Sam snorted. It had been possibly the only time he'd seen something akin to fear in John Winchester's eyes.
Dean tapped twice on the tiles.
"Okay, buddy," Bobby said, "promise to call me if he ain't back in three hours."
Dean tapped once.
"Yeah… yeah, alright…" Bobby became silent for a moment. "D'you need anything?"
Twice. No.
Bobby laughed warmly. "Sure, you have it under control."
Once. Of course.
Bobby laughed again. "Okay then. Say hello to Sam for me, or y'know, wave at him."
Dean tapped once, smiling a little.
"Fine, buddy. See ya." With that, the call disconnected.
Dean didn't move for a long time. He watched small Sam trashing the teddy bear. When the child raised his head, sensing eyes on him, Dean's smile turned soft, loving. "Bobby says hi," he whispered in the tiniest voice, that Sam wouldn't have possibly caught if he hadn't been subconsciously waiting for it. He felt the corners of his mouth stretch impossibly wide, and turned to Cas and Benny. He wasn't sure what message he was sending them with the grin. Dean's quiet words sparked a triumph within him.
His brother was a fighter, always had been. Everything that was thrown under his feet, he strode over with a grace owned solely by him.
Yeah, Sam was proud of his big brother.
So what.
chapter five
chapter three