The Glass Vial | Chapter Six
Chapter Six: December
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The days pass and the weeks roll on by, and with the colder weather Dean has been spending more time working so he can keep the heating on all the time. Sam has been improving, but with the first of the winter snow came a fresh new set of relapses, and Dean has been balancing everything without so much as a break in between.
He’s at work, reading a magazine behind the cash register, when Annie, the assistant manager, starts talking to him.
“We’ve got the annual Christmas party this weekend,” Annie says, sorting out the pop section. Dean looks over at her and raises his eyebrows. “You should come along, and bring your brother.”
“This weekend?” Dean asks, looking up from the computer. “That’s only... the fifth of December?”
Annie rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face. “Walt likes to celebrate early.”
As if to prove the point, the backdoor opens and Tom walks out, carrying a cardboard box. He’s got a santa hat on, and passes Dean a Christmas CD as he passes.
“Really?” Dean says, eyeing the track-list in disgust. “Put this on now?”
“Are you kidding?” Tom asks. “Last year they started in November. Putting them on this late is unheard of,” he says, stepping in front of the door and putting the box down. Dean shrugs and walks over to the stereo, ejecting the current disc and slipping in the Christmas songs. He looks over at Tom to see he’s hanging tinsel over the door and he shakes his head, feeling almost fond.
“So, Christmas party?” Annie asks again, as she moves onto the ‘S’ section.
“Yeah, maybe,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll see if Sam wants to come.” He doubts he will, but it would be nice to relax with people, have a few drinks and maybe introduce Sam to some new people if he’s up for it.
“Awesome,” she says.
Dean presses play on the stereo, and sits down behind the desk again, as the first chords of Frosty The Snowman start to filter into the shop. He groans as the chorus of children start singing and Annie laughs at him. “Suck it up, this is just the beginning.”
Dean mimes shooting himself in the mouth but can’t hold back the smile.
***
It’s with not very much persuasion that Sam surprisingly agrees to go with Dean to the Christmas party. Dean tells him it’s not a big deal, but Sam seems up for leaving the apartment, and that’s how they find themselves driving through the falling snow on a Saturday night to Dean’s work.
They walk through the front door of the store, the tinkling of the bell too quiet to hear under the Christmas music, and are greeted by Tom, who has red tinsel wrapped around his head.
“Dean!” he says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in greeting, eggnog in the other hand. “Glad you could make it!”
Dean extracts himself, and moves back next to Sam, who’s staring around with wide eyes. “Yeah, hey, Tom. This is my brother, Sam.”
Sam looks around at his name and offers a quick smile at Tom before going back to scanning the room. Tom is either too oblivious or too intoxicated to notice, and just says, “Nice, t’meet you, Sam,” and turns back around into the crowd. Dean leads Sam around the edge of the room to the food table, where it’s a little quieter, and stuffs a few cocktail sausages into his mouth.
“You alright, Sammy?” he asks, once he’s swallowed them and is grabbing a handful more. “You look a little nervous.”
“What? No, I’m fine. I’m fine, Dean.”
“Good,” Dean says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You wanna go, you just say. Okay?”
“Okay,” Sam replies.
From the corner of the room, Walt is currently trying to create a tower of mince pies, and Dean fully intends to go over and steal one, when a woman walks into his line a vision. Dean grins at her as she approaches.
“Hey there,” she says, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. “You must be Dean.”
Dean raises his eyebrows at her, and feels Sam shift behind him slightly. “Ah, you know me, do you? Not sure whether I should be worried or flattered.”
He winks at her and she giggles airily, before taking a sip of her drink, which looks fruity and disgusting. Dean glances around for a beer, but the woman brushes a hand down his arm, and he’s pulled back to her, grinning.
“I’m Zoe, Walt’s cousin?”
“Well, you’re much more beautiful than Walt,” he says. She giggles again, hiccuping halfway through, and Dean has to resist from rolling his eyes, because that is not an attractive sound. Coupled with the fact she’s Walt’s family, which is a warning sigh right there and points to buckets of crazy, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to go anywhere with this chick, but he smiles at her with all the charm he can muster anyway, just for the sake of it.
“Dean,” Sam says, tugging on his sleeve. Dean winks at Zoe and mutters a quick apology before turning to Sam and raising his eyebrows. He studies him carefully and then takes him by the elbow and gently guides him out of the room, leaving Zoe where she’s standing. Once they’re in the empty corridor Sam starts breathing slow, careful measured breaths, and leans against the wall.
“What’s up?” Dean asks, keeping a measured distance away from him to give him space. Dean sometimes feels a little stunned when he remembers how far Sam has come compared to the first few weeks of the wall breaking. Compared to that, dealing with all these little things is a walk in the park.
“Lots. Too close. And loud,” he says, and it’s Sam-speak for there were too many people and too much sound and I felt trapped. Dean had struggled with claustrophobia for some time after crawling from his coffin, and the fact that Sam can even be in a room with so many other people after the cage still amazes him.
“Want to go outside?” he asks quietly, knowing everything must sound much too loud and overwhelming for him, even out here in the hallway, with the sounds of the party muted behind them.
Sam shakes his head, his hair flopping about and Dean watches him carefully. “Okay. Want to go home?”
“No, no, I’m okay. I’m okay. Just - give me a minute.”
The door opens and the sound of the party can be heard before it’s muted again, and Annie is walking towards them, a cautious expression on her face. Dean has always liked Annie; she’s kind and sweet, always manages to wear a smile for the customers, even when they’re bitchy, and helps Dean whenever he screws something up.
“Hey,” he says, still quiet, and Annie gives a little wave and stands beside them.
“Hey, you’re Sam, right?” Annie says, smiling up at him, using the same quiet speech that Dean had been using. Sam nods, and Dean stands by his side, watching him for any clues that he’s not handling, but he looks lucid, just a little shaken up. “I’m Annie. I work in the shop with your brother. Dean’s told me all about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name!”
There’s a moment of halted silence, before Sam mutters, “Oh, yeah. You too.”
“Would you like to come around the back? There’s a couch in there, and I know it’s pretty busy in the front. I can get you some water?”
When Sam doesn’t answer, Dean gives her a grateful smile and steps in. He hasn’t told her what happened to Sam, obviously, but he’s hinted enough for her to figure out that Sam doesn’t do well with these public things, and he’s thankful for her genuine kindness.
“Thanks, Annie,” Dean says. “That would probably be good. We’re not staying much longer, but that would be great for a little bit.”
“Sure, no problem,” she says, with a sincere smile, and she turns to lead them through the hallway. Sam goes first and Dean walks behind him, and they enter the staff room, where Sam sits down on the old couch.
Dean sits beside him and Annie opens the cupboard and over her shoulder, asks, “Either of you like a drink?”
“I think I’m fine, Annie. How about you, Sam?” He slaps a hand on Sam’s knee, causing him to jump backwards, and Dean gives him an apologetic smile, but keeps his hand there, in the hopes it keeps Sam lucid, at least for a little while longer.
“Water. Water, please,” he says, and Annie fills him a glass from the tap and puts it in front of him.
She sits down in a tattered armchair, one that’s lopsided, faded dark green with stuffing seeping out the sides, and sips her own glass of orange juice.
Sam is fiddling with his wristband and Dean squeezes his knee once more before pulling back and smiling over at Annie. “You enjoying the party?”
She half-shrugs but carries on smiling. “I guess it’s not my sort of thing. I prefer to stay in, curled by the fire with a nice book, you know?”
“Yeah,” Dean says grinning, “...except, well, nope. I totally don’t know.”
She laughs softly and Dean smiles at her, liking her a little bit more.
“That’s more Sam’s area. Isn’t it, Sammy?” he asks, putting his hand on his knee again.
He jerks his head up and nods, chewing on his lip, and Dean smiles tightly at him, before handing him the glass of water that he hasn’t touched. He takes it and sips at it a few times before putting it back down on the table.
Dean clears his throat and stands up. “Well, we’re going to be off now. Cheers, Annie, for - you know.”
“No problem,” she says, standing up, and Dean taps Sam on the shoulder a few times before he’s getting up, too, and smiling apologetically at Annie.
“Sorry, I.” He looks at Dean quickly before he settles with, “I’m tired.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sam, it was really nice to meet you. Honestly.”
“You too,” he says, ducking his head, and Dean gently pushes him through the doorway and they walk along the corridor to the fire exit that Dean opens with a quick wave to Annie. They walk out into the cool air, small flakes of snow falling through the darkness.
Dean looks over at Sam to see he’s paled considerably and he’s flicking his eyes around and fiddling with his wristband.
“Come on, Sam, let’s get home,” he says, trying to keep the running commentary going to keep him focused. He knows Sam’s on the edge, halfway between keeping lucid and slipping into a Hell memory, and he’s just got to get him home before he does that and turns catatonic, or too far gone. “I’ll get you some warm milk when we get back, okay? Sit you in front of the TV and let you watch your cooking programmes or whatever chick stuff you like to watch.”
Sam’s started mumbling to himself, but is letting Dean, easy as anything, steer him towards the Impala, which is parked at the side of the road. He unlocks his door before going around to the passenger side, and opening the door for Sam.
“Come on, Sasquatch.”
Sam stands there rapidly blinking a few times before he bends down and folds his legs into the passenger seat, and Dean shuts the door before running around the other side and slipping in the driver’s side. He turns on the engine to let the car warm up and turns the radio on low. He leans over Sam to pull the seatbelt over and clicks it into the holder, feeling Sam shiver beneath him.
“I was speaking to Bobby earlier and he wanted to know where we were gonna be for Christmas, and it’s up to you, man, wherever you’d prefer. Depends where you’d be more comfortable, I guess. Whatever you’d like.”
He’s got the engine warmed up and he carries on talking as he pulls out slowly, moving up to second gear and keeping it there as they drive along the freezing road.
He takes it slow on the ice, but Sam has started making small whimpering sounds, and Dean knows he’s gone now, and he isn’t seeing anything but Hell. He moves into third gear and picks up the speed, glad they’re only a few minutes from home. The apartment block comes into view and Dean pulls to the side of the road and parks. He undoes Sam’s seatbelt, and gets out the Impala, locking his door before going around and opening Sam’s.
“Come on, then, Sammy.”
He gently pulls Sam out of the door and he comes without protest, but he’s clutching at Dean’s arms so tight it almost hurts. Dean pulls an arm free to shut the door, locks it, and then leads them through the falling snow up the steps to the apartment, mumbling comforting nonsense all the way.
Once they’re finally inside, Dean locks the door behind him and leads Sam to the couch. He’s silent now, but he’s staring straight ahead with that thousand-yard stare.
It feels like it’s been a long time since it’s been this bad and Dean tries to swallow down the disappointment as he helps Sam dress into some warmer clothes to sleep in. Sam’s compliant but he’s constantly looking around, like he always does when he’s seeing hell and he’s afraid.
Dean leads him to the bedroom and Sam huddles beneath the covers, mumbling about the cold and Lucifer and Dean tries not to feel completely fucking useless while he watches Sam shake his head and plead with the invisible devil.
It takes two hours for Sam to finally fall asleep, and Dean sleeps beside him on the camping bed they stole from Bobby’s. The next morning, Dean gets up early to collect the glass vial from their mailbox, and sends a silent prayer of thanks up towards them. Who sends them is still a mystery, and the liquid still unknown, but it’s one piece of good luck that Dean is willing to take.
***
Dean manages to get a work schedule sorted that he coincides with Bobby, and it means that Sam never finds himself alone. During the autumn months everything felt as if it was getting clearer, but as soon as winter came it was like being plunged into the deep end again and the nightmares returned, as well as the day hallucinations. The wandering has got better, whether because he’s always with someone he’s not sure, but he has to take each day as it comes.
As well as Bobby, sometimes Sam spends time with Annie, from Dean’s work. She sometimes invites him around when she’s not working and when Dean has to take the extra shifts, and talks to him about books and politics and movies. She treats him like a person, not just a guy with issues, and Sam feels comfortable enough around her to be himself.
Dean has been teasing him about it mercilessly.
It’s a Friday afternoon and he’s sitting with her at her kitchen table, talking about novels, when she shocks Sam, not for the first time.
“I like you,” she says, simply. “You’re such a kind, sweet guy, Sam, and I’d really like to get to know you better.”
“Oh,” Sam says, suddenly feeling like he’s been thrown overboard and the script he’d been following has been torn and burnt. “I’m not sure...”
“Hey, I’m a big girl,” she says, smiling at him. “If you say no I won’t be upset. I just think you’re a great guy.”
“It’s not that,” Sam says, feeling like a fish out of water. “I like you, too. I do. I’m just not... I’ve got issues,” he settles on lamely.
Annie shrugs at him, still smiling. “It’s your call. I like you for who you are, Sam. Think about it, if you like. Either way, it’d be nice to keep seeing each other as friends.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Sam says, feeling like he’s on safer ground again. He smiles at her and she returns it, a wide grin with bright eyes. She reminds him of Jess, in some ways, with the same sweet temperament and kind nature, but older, somehow, and maybe it’s how Jess would have been if she’d be given the chance at maturing. The thought doesn’t hurt him like he thought it would, and he thinks back over his list of not-so-spectacular relationship choices and thinks that maybe this thing with Annie could be worth a try.
“Sam?” she says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You come over whenever you want.”
Sam smiles at her, and pinches the back of his hand, just to keep himself anchored. “Thanks, Annie,” he says. “You should have dinner. At ours. Me and Dean, sometime.”
“I’d like that, thanks. You just call me or get Dean to and we’ll arrange that, alright?”
Sam nods and runs a hand through his hair. “I should probably...”
Annie smiles and nods in understanding, and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze, before walking to the phone on the wall. Sam watches as she picks it up and dials and he lets out a slow breath. Everything is okay.
Dean arrives ten minutes later and he leaves Annie’s, waving to her on the way out. Once he’s back on the car, and they’re a few minutes away from the apartment, Dean says, “You sweet on her, Sammy?”
“She’s nice to me,” Sam says simply. He can tell Dean is waiting for me, but he stays silently, and Dean huffs out a breath.
“Dude, you should so go out with her and go to a poetry reading or whatever it is you kids like to do.”
Sam snorts and shakes his head. “I’m hardly a kid anymore, Dean.”
“Nah, you’ll always be a kid,” Dean says. They pull up outside the apartment and get out the car into the cold air. The snow crunches beneath Sam’s feet and he hurries up the stairs and into the hallway, Dean following behind him.
Sam thinks about what Dean said, and decides to chuck all apprehensions out the window, and do something. The next time he sees Annie he’s going to say yes, because he likes her, and he knows he deserves it.
***
Dean knew he had it in him, but wasn’t sure he’d actually go through with it.
He watches from the Impala as Sam steps out of the house, a small smile on his lips. He turns around to say goodbye to Annie, who has a hand resting on his forearm. Dean can’t hear what they’re saying, can’t see Sam’s expression, but Annie looks happy and Sam looks as damn near to it as he’s been in a long time. Sam turns around, starts to walk towards the Impala, but then Annie runs out the door, calls his name, and Sam spins, just in time for Annie to jump on her toes and kiss Sam on the neck. Sam freezes, and Dean tenses, unsure why, just that he’s attuned to Sam’s discomfort. But then Sam relaxes, leans down, and they’re kissing, and a wave of happiness and pride rushes through him Dean as he watches. He looks away, grinning, and waits until Sam has got in the car and he’s started the engine before he says anything.
“I’m happy for you, Sammy. Annie’s a great girl. You deserve this.”
Sam turns to him and gives him a shy grin, left hand tugging at the bracelet on his right wrist. “Thanks, Dean.”
Dean smiles, puts the car in reverse, and pulls out, driving down the road towards home.
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