Follow You Home - Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, feeling safer that he’d felt in a long time; Lilith was dead, the end of the world was no longer nigh and, for now, he was next to his brother. But he still couldn’t relax. After Castiel’s visit, two days earlier, he’d been unable to think about nothing else but telling Dean how he felt about him. He’d considered keeping it a secret; they already had enough to deal with without creating more problems. But, in the end, he’d decided that being honest with was the one thing that he had to do from now on. He owed it to Dean.
On the bright side, his problem had fully distracted him from any thoughts of blood. Now, after six days, Dean had finally deemed him safe enough for them to leave the room and drive on to another place. Hunting was out for now, at least for Sam.
Next to him, Dean was tapping on the wheel, singing softly, and, if it hadn’t been for the set of his brother’s shoulders and the lack of conversation in the car, he could have pretended that the past few years had never happened. But they had and that was the problem.
After Jess, there had been a few times when he’d come close to telling Dean that he loved him. At the time he had been so scared. Thinking back, he now knew that Dean would have stood by him, wouldn’t have rejected him, then. But now, he couldn’t be so sure. After everything that had happened between them - all the lies and the secrets and the betrayal - he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t push Dean over the edge.
He had to try anyway. If Dean walked away, called him sick and twisted and left him, then it would only be exactly what he deserved. At least he would know, one way or the other, how Dean felt about him.
“I’m going to stop soon so we can eat.” Dean glanced over at him then turned back to the road, “Are you going to be able to get out of the car? Or should I bring food back for you?”
“I’ll be fine. There’s not likely to be any demons, right?”
“Right. Here we go.” He pulled into the busy parking lot of a diner that looked just like every other diner they’d ever been to, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to find a place to park. He finally found somewhere and he looked back over at Sam once more before getting out of the car.
Inside, the place was just as busy as it had looked from the outside and it took the waitress a few minutes to find them a table. Dean made sure that Sam took the seat furthest from the door; it would be harder for his little brother to bolt, easier to protect him. It was still his first instinct, even after everything, to protect Sammy.
He watched as Sam studied his menu, frowning at how ill he still looked. He’d lost some weight - too much for just six days - and his skin was pasty, clammy. Dean had never known an addict personally before, at least not one who’d gone through withdrawals, but he figured that Sam’s appearance was normal. It didn’t make it any easier to see his little brother like this, though.
They ordered their food and Dean was glad to hear Sam ask for a big meal. The waitress left and they sat in silence until she brought their food back. He hated it; not being able to talk to Sam, but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t act as thought nothing had happened but he couldn’t talk about what had happened. Not yet. Not until Sam was completely clean, completely his brother again.
He’d only ordered some fries for himself; if they weren’t hunting and they weren’t hustling in bars, money was going to be tight for a while. They couldn’t afford any extravagance. He finished eating before Sam and sat back, looking around the diner. The waitress was flashing Sam worried looks every couple of minutes.
“Hey, Sammy, can you try and look a bit healthier?”
“What?”
“Matron over there thinks you’re about to faint.”
Sam looked down at his plate and then back up at Dean, “I’m done now, anyway. Can we go?”
“Yeah. You stay here, I’ll go and pay.”
He didn’t tip the waitress. She should have been minding her own damn business anyway.
---
The motel that they’d found themselves at was marginally better than the last one, perhaps because the woman at the counter didn’t give them suspicious looks when they checked in. The room itself was small but it had everything that they needed for the night.
Dean threw his duffel down on the bed nearest the door and checked that the bathroom was clear before he allowed himself to relax.
“We’ll stay here tonight and start heading towards Bobby’s tomorrow.”
“Okay. Dean, can we talk?”
“No. Not yet.” He wasn’t ready, it was too soon. If they talked now he’d say something that he’d regret.
“Please, I know-”
“Shut up, Sam. You don’t know anything right now.” Please, Sammy, leave it.
“We need to talk, Dean.”
“I said not yet, Sam. We’ll talk when you’re…better.”
“But-”
“Oh, for-leave it, Sam. I mean it.” He turned away, headed for the bathroom and slammed the door shut. It was too much. It was too soon.
---
Dean had been in the bathroom for ages. Ten minutes after he’d stormed off, Sam had heard the shower kick in and it was still going now. He grimaced; the jerk was using all of the hot water. And he still hadn’t managed to talk to Dean, to tell him the truth. Dean had inherited his stubbornness from their father. Sam was just pleased that it was a trait that they both possessed; Dean might be determined to avoid talking but he was just as determined to talk. Sure, there would be a stalemate for a while but, eventually, he would manage to tell Dean.
The sound of running water stopped and he could hear Dean moving about getting ready, drawing out something that would usually take him two minutes. He eventually emerged, fully dressed, his hair still wet from the shower.
Sam spoke quietly, “We don’t have to talk about it now.”
“Good.”
“But we will talk about it. Soon. I know I messed up, I know I did everything wrong but I still get a say, Dean. I’m still allowed to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
Dean turned to look at him, eyes sincere, “I’m sorry that I can’t talk yet. I want to, really want to but I can’t.”
“It’s okay, I get it. How about we call a truce for now?”
“That’d be good, Sam. Sammy.”
Sam smiled, Dean looked more comfortable again. That was the most important thing: that Dean was happy.
They spent the rest of the evening watching television, bickering about what channel to watch and it was almost like it used to be. Except that something still hung in the air between them; the knowledge that, for a while, Sam had betrayed Dean, had went against every principle that their family had ever stood for.
---
Castiel stood in the parking lot of the motel where the Winchester brothers were staying for the night. He’d told Sam that he’d stay away but it was proving impossible for him to do so. For days now, he’d been wrestling with the consequences of what he knew about Sam Winchester. The other night, telling him to reveal his feelings to Dean had not been planned. He had acted foolishly, impulsively and now he didn’t know what to think.
Everything that he’d ever been taught told him that Sam was a sinner, that anything between the brothers would be a blasphemy, an abomination. But the one thing that he hadn’t needed to be told, that he had always known instinctively was the importance of love.
If he knew anything, it was that the Winchester brothers loved each other.
Nothing, it seemed, was cut and dry when human emotions were involved.
He’d planned on saying something to stop Sam but now he wasn’t sure whether he should or not. Uncertainty. He had never experienced it before and it worried him. His attachment to the Winchester brothers had caused him a great deal of trouble, his choice should have been obvious: stop Sam Winchester and then never see either of them again. But he couldn’t walk away. And he couldn’t be the one to stop the only chance either one of them had at a relationship that would last.
He wasn’t that cruel.
---
Another day, another diner that looked exactly the same as the last, complete with a concerned looking waitress. Sam slid into the booth that she’d directed them to and scowled at her when she stared for a little too long. The scowl stuck around for the rest of their meal as he grew more and more impatient with the waitress, with Dean, with everything.
“Stop pouting, Sam. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine.”
---
Five hours later, and Dean hadn’t spoken another word. He’d turned the music off as soon as they’d got in the Impala and the walls had gone up. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Sam. His driving had become more and more impatient and Sam had been gripping the edge of his seat for half an hour before he gave up.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence.
“Dean, I’m sorry, okay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just - everything’s annoying me lately. It’s the withdrawals, I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re a dick.”
“I know.”
“It’s okay, though. Just try not to be so touchy next time.”
“Okay. Hey, Dean?”
“Mmm.”
“Could you maybe slow down now?”
---
Weeks. It had been weeks since they’d hunted and it felt good to be back in the saddle. He had missed it, the feeling of knowing that they were saving people; that they were making their father proud. On the road, they’d come across a few signs of the supernatural but Sam had refused to let him hunt alone so they’d called Bobby and moved on to the next place. Now, finally, his little brother’s hands had stopped shaking and he looked almost healthy, healthy enough to hunt.
The hunt wasn’t even anything complicated. It had only taken them an hour to figure out that they were after a spirit and Sam had quickly come up with a name after an afternoon in the town’s library.
Now, with the familiar weight of his gun in his hand, Dean stood guard as Sam finished digging up the grave. The spirit had shown its face twice already, had even managed to knock Sam over, and he wasn’t taking any more chances.
“Hurry up, Sam. The bitch’ll be back soon.”
“I’m going as fast as I can, Dean. It’d be easier if I could see what I was doing.”
“You could have checked the batteries in the flashlight too, you know, It’s not just my job. Hey!” Shaking his head, Dean brushed himself down, grumbling about the soil that now covered his clothes.
“Sorry, Dean. Didn’t see you there.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“Just hurry up.” He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see Sam, and it was worrying him; if the spirit did show her face again he would have to shoot blindly. “Damn. Sam, maybe we should-”
“I’ve got it. C’mon, get the lighter ready.”
“I’ve had it ready for the last fifteen minutes, Sam. C’mon, get up here.”
He could hear Sam scrambling up out of the grave; he waited until he could feel him standing close before tossing the lighter down. And then he could see Sam - hair stuck to his face as he watched the bones burn, eyes dark but not black, and, for a moment, he looked stronger than Dean had ever seen him, even when he’d been juiced up on demon blood. Sam was his brother again, the one who he’d trust with his life, the one who he had always been able to count on.
And then his little brother shivered and he turned back into Sam, the addict. And the whole world felt wrong again.
“C’mon, Sam. Let’s get out of here.”
“We need to fill in the grave.”
“No, we don’t. Let’s just go, get out of town, find another hunt.” It was the only way, they had to hunt and hunt and hunt until they were brothers again. He holstered his gun and began to walk back towards the car, leaving Sam staring in his wake.
---
Dean began to pack up as soon as they reached the motel, throwing things into his duffel without even checking to see if they were his or Sam’s. He didn’t bother to look up when Sam entered the room, just moved into the bathroom to grab their stuff from there. He reached up and pulled the toothbrushes off the shelf, span around and almost fell backwards as he walked into Sam.
“Dean, what are you doing?”
“Packing.” He tried to push past Sam but his brother refused to move.
“No, I mean what are you doing? You walked off before we could finish the hunt properly and now you’re being all weird.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why?”
Sam stepped back slightly, “That’s what I want to know.”
“No, I mean,” He ran a hand over his eyes, “Why did you pick her over me?”
It hurt, the pain that he could see on Dean’s face. “No, Dean, I never-”
“Don’t say you didn’t because you did. We fought and then you walked away, went to her, and you didn’t even look back.”
“I did it for you, Dean. Lilith was-”
“Liar. You’re lying to me again. You did it for yourself and you’re blaming it on me.”
“No,” He stepped back into Dean’s personal space, barely stopped himself from flinching when Dean glared at him, “Stop. Just, just stop and listen for a minute. Please.”
Dean leant back against the sink, trying to create some distance between them but Sam took another step closer.
“Okay, Sam.”
“What?”
“I’m listening. Just tell me the truth, Sam. It can’t be worse than the lies.”
Sam closed his eyes; he’d been waiting for this moment for days but all of a sudden it had arrived too soon.
“I - okay. Ruby, the blood, everything; I did it because I was scared of-” He bit his lip.
“Scared of what, Sam? Scared of Lilith? Of the angels? Of-”
“I was scared of what you’d say when you found out that I’m in love with you.”
And that, right there, was the truth. He’d been so scared of rejection, so scared of losing Dean again that he’d taken it out on Lilith and any other demon that he’d crossed paths with. Worse than that, he’d taken it out on Dean himself.
“I love you, Dean. So much and I know it’s wrong and I know you-”
“Shut up.” Dean held up a hand, “Just shut the hell up for a minute, let me think.”
He nodded and moved back, giving Dean some space and taking some time to think for himself. He thought back over what he’d just said and began to hate himself just that little bit more.
“Dean, it’s not your fault, okay. It’s me.”
“What?”
“The blood, I mean. It’s not - I did it for the control, you know, because I couldn’t control how I felt about you and that, it’s not your fault.”
Dean moved past him, into the bedroom. “I - hang on a minute, Sam. I’m still working on the lo- first thing.” He sat down on the bed, head in his hands.
“I just needed you to know that.”
He stood in the doorway, watching as Dean tried to process the information. He’d anticipated all sorts of things; being called sick, being punched, shouted at, but he’d never thought that Dean would be silent. Sighing, he took a step into the room and stopped; he’d had years to get his head around his feelings, Dean hadn’t even had ten minutes.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” Dean stood up and grabbed the Impala’s keys.
“Dean-”
“I need time to think.”
“Okay, that’s fine but please don’t drive, not when you’re upset. Please, Dean.”
Dean nodded, threw the keys back down and walked out of the door. Sam could only hope that he would come back.
---
He had found himself by a lake and, without pausing to think, he’d jumped in and started swimming. The water was icy cold and he told himself that it was the only reason that his chest was clenching. Taking a deep breath, he dived underwater, burying himself in the darkness that even the stars couldn’t penetrate. He still couldn’t get away from it, couldn’t escape thoughts of Sam and what he’d just told him. He couldn’t stop thinking about moments from the past and analysing Sam’s actions, Sam’s words. If this doesn’t go the way we want, I want you to know that-
Dean broke through the surface of the water, realisation hitting. Even then, Sam had tried to tell him. He couldn’t do this. He had to get away, properly, and work things out. Sam was his baby brother and it was wrong, everything was wrong. If he went away for a bit, put some distance between them, Sam would realize that.
He made his way back to the edge of the lake and lay down on the grass, only now regretting going swimming so late at night. Shivering, he tried to get his thoughts together, tried to figure out what he was going to say to Sam.
Tried to find a way to tell him that he was leaving.
---
The sound of a key turning in the lock had Sam standing up, his hand halfway towards his gun - just in case. When he saw that it was Dean he sat back down, biting at his lip, and frowned. Dean was wet.
“Where’ve you been? I didn’t think it was raining.” He stood up again and grabbed a towel, tossing it to Dean.
“Yeah, I went for a swim.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, turning away.
“A swim?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Dean, about what I said before-”
“You meant it, right?” Dean span back around but he still wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.
“I meant it. And I know it’s a shock and I know you don’t feel the same way and I just want us to be okay. I just want us to hunt and be brothers and I’ll deal with this, I’ll deal with what I’m feeling.” He had to deal with it, had to keep Dean.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you, you know?”
“I - years, since before Stanford. It’s why I had to leave.”
“And what? You think you can suddenly stop yourself from wanting to - from feeling this way?” Dean reached up and touched the amulet around his neck, then seemed to realise what he was doing and pulled his hand away.
“I can try. I’ll try so hard, Dean. I promise.” Anything, so long as he didn’t lose Dean.
Dean sat down on the bed and sighed, then he looked up at Sam and Sam could see it in his face.
“No. No, Dean. Please don’t do this.”
“I have to, Sammy. We need to - we need distance.”
He sat down next to Dean on the bed. Dean didn’t move away, just pressed his knee against Sam’s while they sat in silence. Eventually, something had to break.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. I need time to think, time to work some things out. There’s so much to work through; Ruby, the blood, the-”
“You don’t need to list all the things I’ve done wrong.” And that sounded more bitter than he’d meant it to.
“Sorry.” Dean hung his head; the last thing he wanted was to make this harder on Sam than it already was. He couldn’t delay the inevitable, though. “I’m going to go now.”
Sam nodded as Dean gathered up his duffel and headed towards the door.
“I’ll be in touch soon, Sam. Look after yourself. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He left, closing the door softly behind him. Sam watched him go from the window, followed the lights of the Impala as he drove away until he couldn’t see them anymore. Shaking slightly, he moved back into the centre of the room.
And then he broke down.
Chapter Three