Requiem For A Dream, Chapter 5
Sam sits by the bed, watching the laboured breathing, and his brother's chest rise and fall with each breath. The brother that up until an hour ago he had no idea if he existed or not.
And now, he thinks, he's here, within touching distance, and Sam's fingers itch to touch, to reach out and run down Dean's cheek, feel the stubble beneath them.
His breath had caught in his throat at the desperate way Dean had said his name before collapsing against him and Sam had thought, for one panicked moment, that he had come all this way just for Dean to die on him.
And even in the back of his mind where that voice tells him that wishing to run your fingers down your brothers cheek is wrong, Sam ignores it, because he has spent his life, or what he thinks is his life, not having a brother, and now here he is, looking far too beautiful lying practically lifeless on a narrow bed in the house of someone who Sam feels is a father figure, even if he doesn't know it.
Sam blanches at the word beautiful. But Dean stirs and Sam is suddenly at his side, his knees banging on the floorboards as he sinks to them and clutches Dean's hand in his.
“Sammy?” Dean manages to get out and Sam hands him a glass of water. Dean takes it, a look of wariness on his face, but when his fingers touch Dean's he jumps backwards, scrabbling back against the wall.
“Shit, you're real.” He says and Sam frowns.
“Yeah.”
“What did you...how did...” Dean searches for the words, for the questions he needs answering but he can't seem to find them and the desire to feel his brother in his arms becomes too much and he throws himself at Sam.
Sam lets out a grunt of surprised before he's hugging back, his arms tight around the strong body in them, his hands flat against muscle and bone, pulling him closer than physically possible.
“Jesus Sammy.” Dean whispers and Sam can only agree.
“Yeah, I know.” Sam feels the overwhelming urge to cry as Dean tightens his grip on him.
Dean doesn't know if this is another dream or this is real. And he's not sure what is better, because if its a dream he is going to wake up and his arms will be empty, wont have the comforting weight of Sam in them. But if its real then he has explaining to do, will have to answer questions that he doesn't even want to think about and he knows Sam, he knows that Sam will have 1001 questions bubbling just below the surface of those brown eyes that he has missed so much.
Dean knows that he is holding on too long, knows that this hug has gone past the point of normal and heading head first into inappropriate, but he can't seem to let go, can't seem to unwind his arms from Sam, partly because he doesn't want to have to look in those eyes, afraid of what he is going to see. He gives in the urge to touch and fingers the long hair at the back of Sam's neck. Sam shifts under his touch.
“Jesus Sammy.” Dean says again, “I missed you.” He buries his head in Sam's shoulder as Sam runs a hand tentatively down his spine.
“Dean...” He says and Dean reluctantly lets go and lifts his head.
Dean licks his lips and Sam is hit by the desire to kiss him. He looks almost lost and scared and unsure of how to progress from this point that Sam wants to do anything to help him. He almost reaches out but stops himself when Dean clears his throat, his eyes slightly wide and the look in the is anything but easy to read.
“Do you remember?” Dean asks. Its the only words he can come up with that aren't don't leave me again, I need you.
“No.” Sam begins and Dean visibly slumps. Sam, feeling wretched at hurting his brother, reaches out and places a hand on his arm. The muscles in Dean's arm twitch under Sam's fingers.
“But I dream.” Dean tears his gaze away from Sam's hand on his arm and frowns in confusion. “I started dreaming about you, about the deal...” Dean flinches at that and Sam removes his hand, not letting himself believe the look of disappointment that flashes across Dean's face.
“You dreamt...” He begins, confusion once again clouding his face and suddenly Dean is all to aware that he is sitting on a bed, looking like a lost child. So he gets up, crosses the room and leans against the dresser, crossing his arms in front of him. Sam sighs.
“Yeah, and I was hoping you could tell me why? Why I dream about you? Why I dream about you selling your soul for me? Why I feel like I know you better than anyone else? Jesus Dean, do you have any idea what this is doing to me?” Sam asks. Anger seeping into where the worry about Dean, the relief in finding him and the sheer desire to throw himself back into those arms and stay there for the rest of his life used to be.
“Sammy..”
“And why are you the only person who calls me that?” Sam adds. Dean takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak, wanting longer to sort things out in his head before he answers, but Sam is looking at him like he needs to know now and Dean had never been able to deny Sam anything.
He is spared having to answer though when Bobby comes through the door.
“You boys ok?” He asks. He looks nervous, slightly on edge. And Dean can't blame him. This is weird, even for experienced hunters, and they are so far off their normal path they can't even see it.
“Fine.” Sam answers shortly, his voice tense, his eyes darting to Dean every now and then and Dean wants to pull him into another hug and never let go.
“I think we all need to talk.” Bobby says and Dean nods, pointedly ignoring the imploring look from Sam. He runs his fingers lightly across Sam's shoulder as he walks past and doesn't miss the shiver that runs through his brothers body.
“So what does this mean?” Bobby asks when they are all sitting down, around the kitchen table. It feels so right, so normal to Dean that its almost heartbreaking. Except last time they were all here, Sam knew who he was, Bobby k new who Sam was and he didn't want to run his fingers through Sam's hair.
“I dunno Bobby.” Dean answers, running a hand through his own short hair making it stick up in random places and Sam suppresses the urge to smooth it down.
“I dunno what any of it means, how Sam found me, how he can't remember but he can, none of it makes sense. And its not like that bitch is just gonna let Sam back into my life and not expect something in return.”
“Like what?” Sam asks. Dean looks at him, really looks at him for the first time since he woke up with the worst headache he'd had in a long time, even when Sam was gone and he used to drink himself into sweet oblivion. Sam looks different, more innocent somehow, and Dean suddenly has a urge to run his hands over Sam's body and search for the familiar scars that he knows by heart, anything to tell him Sam is the same.
“I don't know Sam.” Dean snaps. He's tired, confused and Sam's looking at him like he has all the answers to every question in the world and Dean just wants to curl up with him and forget about the deal, forget that he only has 10 months to live, forget about getting his brother back and having to try and mend a relationship that was already strained.
“Jesus, you think I like this anymore than you do? I start dreaming about you, about things that can't possibly exist and somehow, I know you're real. And I find you, and now you are going to fucking die.” Sam runs a hand through his hair now, a gesture so familiar it hurts Dean's chest. Bobby gets up from the table and replaces the beers, twisting the caps off all three before sitting down again. Its a welcome distraction, a chance for Dean to collect the thoughts that are running riot around his head.
“What d'you want me to tell you Sammy? What? Cos, God, I would love to give you answers, really I would.” Dean can't help the way that comes out, sounding angry and accusing and Sam gives him his patented puppy dog eyes and suddenly Dean wants to laugh. Its so ridiculously stupid, so far out of any situation he has ever been in, so familiar. Everything so familiar, but yet so different.
“Boys. Stop bitching at each other. This is no ones fault. God knows what is going on, but we need to figure it out and if you two can't get on then you might as well forget it. Sam go back to Stanford, Dean go back to being a miserable bastard.” Bobby stands and strides out of the kitchen, leaving Sam and Dean staring after him.
“Sorry.” Sam mutters. Dean turns to him and reaches out, placing a hand over Sam's on the table.
“We'll figure it out Sammy.” He says.
“What if we don't?” Sam says, and Dean flinches. He has always looked out for Sam, always, and damned if he was going to stop now. “What the hell am I meant to do then? Jesus Dean, did you even think about me when you made this deal?” Sam is angry again. And Dean can't take it, he hates friction between him and Sam, hates it more than anything. And it seems they are right back where they started. Dean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Of course I thought about you, why the hell did you think I did it? I couldn't...Sam, I...” Dean stands, running a hand over his face.
“You couldn't live without me?” Sam says and Dean doesn't even need to turn, wouldn't need to hear him speak, to know that Sam is right behind him, too close but not close enough.
“Well guess what Dean? I'm going to have to live without you now.” Sam lets out a bitter laugh, his breath hot on the nape of Dean's neck and Dean can't stop the quiver than runs through him. Sam steps away, leaving Dean inexplicably cold. “Do you have any idea how crazy I thought I was going? Do you have any idea what this has done to my life? My life was normal...” Dean laughs.
“Normal. God. Still want normal hey Sammy? Well why don't you go back there? Why did you even try to find me? You said so yourself, you had no idea if I was real or not. You could have just stayed where you were, in your apple pie life, with your white picket fence and your 2.4 children, why even bother?” Dean's voice is rising to the beginning of a shout and Sam frowns.
“Is that what you want? You want me to go?” He demands and takes a step towards Dean. He doesn't miss the way Dean's eyes widen slightly. And Sam is confused again, confused by the feeling, unfamiliar and unsettling, in his stomach that makes him want to runs his fingers over his brother's face, confused at the way that Dean's lips part slightly makes him want to kiss them.
“No Sammy.” Dean replies quietly. “I want you to stay.”
Sam studies him for a long time, just looking, searching his face and Dean feels uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He shifts and Sam steps away, back to the table and says, in a voice that is so familiar it almost “fine, then I guess we've got work to do.”
Previous Next