{SPN J2BB} Hey Brother: Chapter 4 of 6
NOW
Dean grumbles as they walk up the beach, looking for a potential place where the creature could be taking shelter. Dean and Sam have never been to a beach, not for enjoyment anyway. The older Winchester wants to smile and get lost in the beautiful sunset in front of him, but he’s concentrating on not face-planting and getting sand all over himself. Since he is carrying a slightly heavy duffle bag, it isn’t helping his balance. Besides, he prefers walking on solid ground, not terrain that moves beneath his feet.
Sam, on the other hand, has a peaceful expression on his face as he walks alongside Dean and admires the sunset and the pleasant waves up ahead of him.
The sky is painted in streaks of orange, yellow and pink. Birds flying in the distance look black against the colored backdrop. The waves of blue and white splash onto the shore, wiping away remnants of footprints or anything that had made its impression into the sand near the water. It’s serene and quiet and something Dean appreciates even as he works on keeping his head in the game.
“I used to watch the sunset with Jess,” Sam says softly, breaking the silence between them.
Dean raises his brows in surprise. Sam rarely ever talks about Jessica. Dean knows very well that she meant everything to Sam and his blood still boils whenever he thinks about how fucked up his family had become because of Azazel. He is glad that it’s behind them, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a sore spot to think about.
“Maybe I can see her soon,” Sam says, more to himself than to Dean.
Dean hears it and stops in his tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, grim-faced.
Sam stops and realizes what he’s trying to imply. “Dean, I didn’t mean it like that. I - “
The other hunter holds up a hand. “You know what? Leave it. It’s my fault you’re even thinking about this anyway.”
“Dean - “
Dean starts walking ahead, shoving past Sam. He doesn’t want to think about it. Whatever happened, happened. Dean knows it is going to weigh on him for the rest of his life. But he is here to save a child. And he isn’t going to think about the past. He also isn’t going to let this kid end up like Daniel.
Every promise he keeps making to people, he somehow ends up breaking; every time he tried to keep them safe, he screws up horribly.
He can’t let that happen again. He can’t see another kid dead. He can’t let another family be torn apart.
He senses Sam following quietly and doesn’t make the effort to strike up any conversation.
They walk in silence for a while, towards the area where the police had found the bones of the children. When Dean had asked Sam how the bones had turned up in the first place, Sam had told him that a couple had been roaming around the beach and they happened to stumble upon them towards the west end.
Dean starts when Sam suddenly calls out, “There,” and points ahead.
The older Winchester follows the direction of Sam’s hand and he spots a cave, right towards the edge of the beach. It looks like the only place where the Lamia could possibly be hiding.
He pulls out his knife along with Sam and they jog towards the cave, instantly alert. They both stop near the opening, cautious. Dean hands their duffel to Sam who puts it aside next to himself.
Dean is about to walk in when Sam manhandles him and pulls him against the outside wall of the cave, away from the opening.
The younger man puts a finger to his lips, motioning his head towards the beach.
Dean’s mouth falls open as he carefully peers from the edge of the cave wall, spotting the creature. Her flaming red hair is billowing in the wind surrounding a pale face with startlingly large dark eyes. Her torso stops just after her navel to turn into scales, like a giant serpent, dark green in color and glistening against the warm glow of the sunset.
The Lamia stops on the other side of the cave, and just like the Winchesters, hides behind the outer wall.
“What is she doing?” Sam whispers. Dean shrugs, just as confused as his brother.
A few minutes pass and just when Dean begins to wonder if she’s playing them and knows that they’re there, a kid, looking no older than ten, stumbles out of the cave, shivering and sniffing. Sam and Dean tense, suddenly realizing the Lamia’s motive. She was waiting for the child to come out before eating him.
Dean moves to get the kid but Sam holds him back. He knows this is risky but the Lamia needs to come out in the open before they can save the kid.
Dean is frustrated but he understands Sam’s plan. He nods, ready to get the kid out of danger. He signals Sam to get the kid while he takes care of the monster, and his brother nods.
As the child moves towards the water, Dean spots the Lamia slithering out from behind the cave. Her lips are pulled into a horrifying smile as she watches the child hungrily.
“SAM, GO!” Dean yells as he runs towards the Lamia.
He charges, as the Lamia hisses in anger and slithers with alarming speed towards him. Her hands bear sharp nails, which Dean didn’t spot before. He realizes this a moment too late, as he’s only feet away from her when she suddenly stops and lashes out with her snake like body, the tail of it catching Dean hard in the knees.
He drops heavily onto the ground, sand making its way into his eyes. He spits some out of his mouth as he gets to his feet, furious.
The Lamia is before him, watching him with a smug look on her face.
“Come on, bitch!” Dean taunts. “That’s all you got?”
A feral snarl escapes the creature’s lips as she charges towards Dean, clawed hands bared in preparation to attack. Dean underestimates the speed of the monster and he dodges at the last minute. A yell of pain involuntarily leaves him as she manages to rake her claws across his right shoulder.
The hunter clutches his shoulder, lying on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain as he feels warm blood flowing from his wound. He tries to get to his feet when a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him.
It catches him off guard. His wound doesn’t seem to be very deep. Dean chances a glance at his wound and realizes that it isn’t very serious either. A hiss bring him back to his surroundings and he starts retreating on instinct as the Lamia flashes a nasty smile and slowly advances towards him, almost playing around.
As black creeps into the corners of Dean’s vision, he fears not for himself, but for the child and Sam. No matter how much he fights, he can feel himself slipping away. The last thing he sees before passing out is the Lamia with her clawed hands raised and Sam suddenly appearing in between them just as the Lamia attacks.
“Sam,” Dean whispers in fear as he finally slips into oblivion.
~*~*~
Dean screams in anguish as a white hot pain assaults his shoulder and tears him out of unconsciousness. He curls in on himself and flinches horribly when cold hands stop his movement.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hears someone say. Sam. Despite the pain, Dean goes weak with relief, obliging to Sam’s administrations. “Shit, sorry.”
“Sam,” Dean croaks, eyes still shut.
“Right here, man. Her claws had some sort of poison. This will expel it,” Sam explains. Dean doesn’t mistake the guilt in Sam’s voice. He slowly opens his eyes and sees the flask in Sam’s hand and immediately realizes what it is. They’d found a recipe for an antidote in the Men of Letters library. It served as a universal antidote and could cure most of the poisons either by ingesting it or applying it on a wound.
Dean understands what Sam is about to do and nods, just ready to get it over with. He braces himself as he clutches the bedsheet tightly.
Sam takes a breath and slowly pours some of the solution onto Dean’s wound. The moment it touches the wound, the solution bubbles angrily and a purple-colored liquid starts oozing out of the gashes. Dean lets out a strangled yell; it feels like someone is applying a hot poker to his flesh.
Tears escape out of the corner of his eyes as he breathes deeply. Sam pours a little more and Dean can’t hold in the sob that breaks loose.
“It’s over, it’s over. You’re okay,” Sam chants, guilt and pain for his brother evident in his voice.
Dean takes deep breaths as Sam puts the flask to the side and works on tending and bandaging the wound. Dean keeps his eyes shut while Sam finishes stitching up the injury.
“Okay. I’m done,” Sam finally says.
Dean slowly opens his eyes and tries to sit up. He rejects Sam’s help, wanting to do it himself.
“You okay?” Sam asks, concerned.
Dean nods. “Next time, you get poisoned,” he jokes, wanting to lighten the moment. He knows that Sam would be blaming himself for what happened to Dean.
Sam’s lips form a thin line as he gets up from Dean’s bed where he’d been sitting beside his brother to put the first aid supplies back in his duffel.
“This isn’t funny, Dean. You were reckless. We’d discussed this. You were supposed to distract the Lamia while I got the kid to a safe place and then we’d take on it together. What part of together do you not get?”
Dean grits his teeth. Together? Was Sam being serious right now? Together had been fucked up for a month. Together had been so fucking painful yet Dean didn’t know what else to do. How could Sam even think that anything was normal?
“Together?!” Dean exclaims in disbelief. “I fucked up our together, Sam! Or do you not remember that?! If I’d died, at least everything would have been on the same fucking page!”
Dean watches as Sam’s expression turns to one of horror; broken. “Y-You wanted to die?” Sam asks, voice low.
Dean doesn’t meet eyes with Sam. How can he expect his brother to understand? What’s he’s done, it’s not something he can take back anymore. He not only screwed up things with Sam, but Cas…
Dean decides he can’t be in the room anymore. Suddenly he feels suffocated. It’s like the rose printed walls are closing in. The red of the roses start to look more like blood to him and the vines seem like chains binding him from head to foot. Dean unsteadily gets to his feet. He eyes the blood stained shirt he’d been wearing on the ground at the foot of his bed. He spots his duffel near the bathroom door and shoves past Sam to pick out a new shirt from it.
He holds back the grunt of pain he can feel wanting to climb out of his throat as he puts it on.
“Dean - “
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sam. You know full well I’ve fucked everything up. Every goddamn thing. You have no idea how this feels, and there’s no way I can make you understand,” Dean states as he pulls out a spare jacket from his duffel.
He then walks to the foot of his bed, kicks the ruined shirt aside and works on putting on and tying up his shoes.
“Dean, I didn’t mean it like that. I stayed. I stayed because you wanted me to. And I’m trying to make this as normal as I can for you. What more can I do?” Sam pleads.
Dean doesn’t answer.
“If me being here means that you become reckless and put your life on the line, then maybe - “
“No,” Dean sternly says, cutting Sam off. “Don’t you even dare suggest that,” he growls, pointing a finger in warning towards Sam. “I can’t…” he trials off, breathing heavily.
“I need some air,” he mutters as he heads out the motel room in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him.
~*~*~
Dean plays around with the glass of whiskey in his hand, memories of the last month assaulting him over and over again. He takes a big swig, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it makes it way down his throat. He’d hated when his father used to drink, especially on Mom’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. John would get completely wasted, and the target of his bitterness and anger on those days would usually be Dean.
At that age, Dean never understood why his father used to drink. But now, it seems like he does. He doesn’t care if he’s following in John’s footsteps; Dean has both admiration and frustration towards how his father brought them up. All that he knows now is that alcohol seems to numb the pain he feels, and right now, the pain is reaching its threshold.
Dean drains his glass and motions to the bartender for a refill. As he watches the amber liquid rising in the glass again, Dean’s thoughts wander to Castiel, and the happy memories he’d had before everything had gone to shit.
THEN
They’ve only been officially “together” for a little while. Dean remembers the time he finally told Sam about his relationship with Cas. Oddly, his brother had only one question for him then.
“Who made the first move?”
“What do you mean?” Dean had asked.
“I mean, did you tell him that you liked him or did he tell you?”
Dean had had a puzzled expression on his face and had pointed to himself. He’d then watched in amusement as Sam had cursed, called up Charlie to come over and then given Dean a hug and said, “I’m happy for you, I really am.”
Dean recalls Charlie coming over and giving him a big hug before running up to Sam and gleefully pocketing the hundred dollars Sam reluctantly hands over.
Dean snaps out of his thoughts as Castiel says, “Your smile is mesmerizing.”
Dean looks up towards Cas. He is lying down on his bed with his head on Cas’s lap while the angel has his legs stretched out in front of him.
Dean snorts. “Could you be any cheesier?”
Cas just smiles. “It might be a little cliché, but its how I feel.”
Dean avoids Cas’s eyes, flustered. He’s not used to compliments. He slowly looks up when Castiel clears his throat.
“Would you mind if I asked you something?”
Dean shakes his head. “Of course, not. Go ahead.”
“What were you smiling about?” Cas asks.
Dean’s heart melts seeing the curiosity and innocence on Cas’s face. Somewhere in his mind, he wishes for that to never go away. He then chuckles as he thinks of Cas’s question. “I was thinking about us. The time Charlie came over and took like a hundred bucks from Sam.”
Castiel chuckles as well. “Yes, that was a pleasantly peaceful day.”
“They’d actually kept a bet. About who would profess our love for one another first. Charlie had thought I would and well, she won,” Dean says, amused as he takes a hold of Cas’s hand and absently plays with his fingers.
“Well…” Cas trails off, running his free hand through Dean’s hair.
Dean looks up, brows furrowing. “What?” he asks.
“Technically,” Castiel says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You never professed your love.”
“What do you mean?”
“You did say you wanted to be more than friends. But I was the one that said that I loved you. You never said it,” Castiel explains.
Dean stares at his angel. Did he never tell Cas that he loved him? He knew he liked him… but love? Dean looks some more. His eyes roam the features of Castiel’s face. His lips, his long lashes, that adorable confused look and sparkling blue eyes that he never fails to lose himself in. That’s when it hits Dean.
He’s in love. He’s fucking in love with Castiel.
“You do love me, right?” Castiel asks, hesitant.
Dean smiles and brings up a hand to pulls Castiel’s face towards himself. Their lips meet and for the first time in a long time, Dean knows he’s never letting this go. He’s never going to fuck this up. Castiel is everything to him, if not more. They both are slightly out of breath as they break apart.
Dean grins eyeing the radiant smile on Cas’s face.
“Yes. I love you.”
NOW
Sam does nothing but worry as he makes his way towards the bar near their motel. It’s been six hours since Dean left the motel. And if Sam knows his brother well (and he does) Dean’s probably gone to some bar to get drunk and drown his worries in as much whiskey as he can hold down.
The fact that Dean hadn’t even asked if the kid they’d gone to rescue in the first place was all right, showed how distracted and fucked up he probably felt. Sam had dropped off the kid outside the police station after making sure he was all right. The kid hadn’t caused any trouble, knowing that no one would believe the actual story, and had thanked Sam for helping him, reassuring the Winchester that he’d come up with something to tell the police. Sam had admired the bravery and composure of the child. Sam is glad they’d been able to save the youngster, but he also knows that he himself is cause of Dean’s pain right now.
He just doesn’t know how to fix it. How is he supposed to fix something that is permanent? He knows Dean is tearing himself up for it, and he also knows that his brother will never stop blaming himself.
Sam reaches the bar and pushes open the door, his eyes immediately searching for Dean.
He spots him at the front, hands fisted in the bartender’s shirt collar. Sam hurries towards his brother.
“I said, gimme a ref’ll,” Dean growls.
Sam gives his brother one cursory look and knows that he’s drunk. “Dean. Stop,” he says as he tries to pry off Dean’s fingers which have a surprisingly strong grip on the collar.
“Sammy!” Dean chants, bursting into a smile. “Join me. Le’ss get drunk a-and bitch ‘bout our screwed up lives.”
Sam shoots the bartender an apologetic look. “Dean, you’ve had enough. Let go of the man.”
He expects Dean to put up a fight and is surprised when the older hunter complies without a word. His expression is neutral as he walks past his brother and starts staggering his way to the front door.
“Sorry,” Sam mutters to the bartender.
The man waves it off. “Everyone has shitty days. He just seems broken up about something. Don’t worry, I’ve had worse patrons.”
Sam smiles in thanks and practically runs over to Dean who manages not to see the table in front of him and ends up face planting onto it. Sam’s worry jumps up a notch when Dean starts chuckling in earnest.
As they leave the bar, the chuckles border on hysterics. Sam is just about to stop them in the middle of the street and try to get his brother to calm down when Dean suddenly stops. His expression once again turns neutral and he doesn’t utter a word until they’re back at the motel.
Sam manages to somehow open the door with one hand as he supports most of Dean’s weight with the other. He pulls Dean in, and then supports him from behind as he follows and closes the door behind him. He helps Dean get over to the bed. As Dean sits down, Sam makes sure he won’t fall over and then heads over to turn on the lights.
When he looks back towards Dean, his heart breaks as he sees silent tear tracks running down his brother’s face. He wishes he could take it all away. Every single bit of pain his brother is feeling right now, he wishes he could have it instead. Dean doesn’t deserve any of this. He never did.
“Dean?”
Dean sniffs.
“I’m -” Sam starts to apologize but is cut off by Dean.
“You were right, Sammy.”
Sam frowns. “What do you mean?”
Dean lip trembles. “You said I’d had enough. B’ck at the bar. You were right. I’ve had ‘nough. I can’t do this ‘nymore. I’ve had enough of losin’ people ‘round me. Had enough of me screwin’ shit up.”
“Dean, don’t - “
“No, S’mmy. It’s all my fault. And all I do is keep dumpin’ it on you. I fucked up everythin’ between us. And Cas - “ Dean’s voice breaks.
“I’ve lost him, Sammy,” Dean says, fresh tears escaping his eyes. “I’ve lost him forever.”
Dean clutches at his hair, the anguish in his eyes making Sam want to do nothing but protect Dean from whatever was going on in his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Sam.”
Sam kneels in front of Dean. “Don’t. Don’t you do this to me, okay? You promised me. You promised me you wouldn’t ever think this way. And even if you did, you wanted me to pull you back. Here’s me pulling you back. Nothing that happened was your fault. Do you understand me?”
Dean stays silent. Sam sighs. He knows that Dean will deny ever having this conversation in the first place when he wakes up the next morning.
“Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk in the morning,” Sam says as he gently makes Dean lie down on the bed. Dean stares at Sam while Sam removes Dean’s boots and throws a blanket over his brother.
“You promise?” Dean asks with such innocence that Sam wishes he could keep it that way. He misses the old days when things weren’t as supremely fucked up as they are now.
“Yes, I promise. Now go to sleep.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean mumbles as he closes his eyes.
Sam watches as Dean’s breathing soon evens out. Sam finally lets out a shaky breath, allowing himself to break a little. It’s only today that he saw how much all of this had affected Dean.
Sam runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He knows he’s the reason Dean’s in this state in the first place. Sam blinks against the sudden onslaught of tears. He bites his bottom lip as he tries to compose himself.
“I’m sorry too, Dean.”
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