Brained
title: Brained
part: 11 of ?
rated: PG/K+
spoilers: none
warnings: this fic has crack-y origins
summary: A hunt at a haunted library leaves Sam wondering just what happened to his brother.
Knowing that the fuzziness and pain in his head would only worsen if he tried to wake up too fast, Dean began his journey to awareness slowly. He knew where he was immediately, not because he could completely recall what had happened over the last twenty-four hours, but because he had spent enough nights on Bobby's sofa to know the comfort of that piece of furniture right away.
He could smell breakfast - good breakfast. Not that he would ever admit it to Bobby but the man made the best meals, not including the ones he could remember his Mom making, and breakfast seemed to be his specialty. And, beyond the clinking of silverware to ceramic, Dean could hear the soft mutterings of his brother and the man that was a second father to them.
Before he could tune in to the conversation, he began to feel restless. The space between awake and the need to be up and moving was never a long gap for Dean. So, as his eyes began to flutter open, trying to get used to the light in the room little by little instead of all at once, the murmuring stopped and he could feel the other occupants of the room staring at him.
“Well,” Dean began before even looking at the other two men, “I'm not bound to a chair this time. I guess that's a good sign.”
But then he turned his head and saw Bobby and Sam leap out of their chairs and start to hurry towards him. He must have noticeably cringed into the fold of the sofa because both men stopped in their tracks and then began approaching him as if he was an injured, frightened kitten or something. And that just pissed Dean off.
“So,” he said, looking at Sam, implementing the long-used Dean tactic of avoidance, “does the injured man have to get his own breakfast?” He then looked at Bobby. “Or would I be better off getting it myself so that I don't take another nap real soon?”
Both men had the good grace to look guilty, but only Sam stayed that way as he knelt down next to the sofa Dean was laying on. Bobby, however, straightened up and took a deep breath. And Dean knew that was only the wind-up for the yelling about to come.
“Now don't you go taking that attitude with me, boy,” Bobby said, voice raised but thankfully not to a shout. “Both of you two call me up and tell me the other is acting all weird and possessed... I needed to get to the bottom of things.” Bobby huffed and turned around, as if to walk away. Then, apparently he decided he wasn't finished with his lecture.
“And another thing,” he pointed an angry finger in Dean's face, “just what were you thinking running away from here? You don't answer your phone when your brother tries to call you. You don't stick around long enough to explain what's going on-”
“Wait a minute,” Dean cut in, sitting up on the sofa so that Bobby's finger was no longer in his face, “I was supposed to explain things to you? How do you figure that one out?”
“I wasn't the one acting funny,” Bobby said, moving his hand to point in Dean's face again. “I wasn't the one-”
“Well, we agree on one point,” Dean told the older man, standing up. “I definitely don't find being drugged funny.”
“And I don't find it very funny when you take off out of here like a spoiled little girl running away, leaving your brother here going out of his mind worried about you.”
That took the wind out of Dean's sails, as both Bobby and Sam knew it would. Sam, however, felt that Bobby had crossed the line. How many times had their father used just such a tactic to keep his older son in line? How many times had Bobby witnessed and later admonished John for it? No, that was something Sam wouldn't stand for. So, as Dean paled, eyes going blank and body collapsing back down to the sofa, Sam rose from his kneeling position and stood between his brother and Bobby.
“OK Bobby,” he said as calmly and quietly as he could muster, “that's a little below the belt, don't you think?”
Standing face to, well, chest to the youngest man in the house, Bobby's brain couldn't decide what he was feeling: anger, aggravation, anxiety. Funny how being scared for someone you care about makes you say all kinds of stuff you never intended to. Had he been thinking clearly, Bobby would have chastised himself eight ways to Sunday for what he just said. As it happened, Bobby wasn't thinking particularly clearly... yet, he had enough self-preservation to see the situation for what it was - there was a strong, youthful, giant in front of him ready to defend his brother from the perceived attack - and chose to retreat to the kitchen to cool off.
Sam, thankful that Bobby had given him a moment alone with his brother, turned to look at Dean again. He could see the sorrowful determination on his big brother's face and knew he was gearing up to apologize for leaving and making Sam worry. Geez, Dean, Sam thought, even Dad was never as hard on you as you are on yourself.
“Sam-”
“No, Dean,” Sam cut in before he could get any further, “don't say it. There isn't any reason.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Sam broke in again. “I'm not going to start spouting off about how we need to talk more and be more open and all that crap...”
Dean looked up at him slightly incredulously, slightly amused. Sam sat next to Dean on the sofa and took a deep breath.
“The plain and simple fact of the matter is that we both thought something was wrong with each other,” Sam told him. “Something supernaturally wrong. And, if that had been the case and we started having girly little sit-downs to pour out our hearts... well, we both know how badly things could have turned out if one of us was possessed or something.
“Let's face it. In our line of work, open and honest is not always the best policy.”
“Damn, Sam,” Dean said after a moment. “You sound so old and wise... I don't know if I really like it.”
Sam laughed out loud. Whatever had happened with his brother, whatever had been going on to make Dean act so strangely, it seemed to be gone now. This was definitely the big brother he knew and... well, OK... loved.
But, as quickly as the thought came, just as quickly Sam remembered that there had been something different about Dean. And, as Dean slowly stood up and made his way the the bathroom, Sam was determined to figure out what it was.