The Dead Bodies Mean "I Love You" Part IX
Masterpost | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII
Dean’s waiting by the motel, leaning against his stolen pickup truck, arms crossed. Sam better have a good reason for getting up and leaving to kill Bela without telling him. Dean worried for four days about Sam. He wasn’t sure if Sam was even alive or where to start looking. Sam didn’t have the courtesy to send a text to give Dean peace of mind. Just left him hanging and waiting.
Sam pulls up in a yellow mustang and Dean lifts up his hand, jingling the keys to a motel room. He sets it on the trunk of his car and turns to the room. Best not to traumatize the good people of Lawrence.
As angry as he is, Dean knows he can’t kill his brother. He would like to. He’d love to kill his brother for this, but he can’t.
The door creaks open and Sam walks in, face penitent. He’s got blood on his shirt and his hair has bits of leaves stuck in it.
“Dean, I was gonna call,” he says.
It’s his voice. His innocent, I’m-your-baby-brother-don’t-hurt-me voice that gets to Dean. Anger flows through him and he feels his hands shaking, blood pounding in his ears.
“I was gonna let you know when I got there,” Sam says. “But it’s a long drive to Vegas and it just slipped my mind.”
“Slipped your mind?” Dean’s surprised at how steady his voice is. “It just slipped your mind to let me know that you were alive?”
“Dean.”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me!” Dean shouts. “I was worried sick for four days! I looked everywhere for you! I couldn’t stand watching the news because it might be your dead body on the screen!”
“You weren’t looking for me,” Sam sighs. “I left a note on your phone, saying where I went.”
Dean opens and closes his mouth. A note on his phone? He didn’t see any note... he just saw the text from Castiel. He flips the cell open, going to the notepad feature he never uses. And there it is, a note.
gone to vegas for bela. -sam
“I just... that is...” Dean sputters.
“You didn’t even try, Dean!” Sam’s voice grows accusatory. “I was waiting for a text from you telling me to come back and leave Bela alone and it never came! If you were looking for me then why didn’t just call me?!”
“I was busy!” Dean slams his phone onto the bed. “Okay?! I was busy!”
“Busy with what?!” Sam shouts, throwing his arms out in a challenge. “Last time I left you tore apart half the country for me.”
“It was Cas, okay?” Dean gives in. “I was talking to Cas.”
Sam’s arms fall to his side and his face crumbles. “You were talking to Cas?” he repeats. “And that kept you from looking for me?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Dean backtracks. “He just sent me a text the day you left and I just... got caught up in it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam folds his arms. “You just ‘got caught up in it’ naturally.”
“Why did you even go after Bela?” Dean asks, desperate to change the conversation.
“Because she still betrayed us.”
“Come on Sam, there’s something bigger than that.”
“Because I needed to get away from you!” Sam snaps. “Ever since Castiel came in he’s all you can think about and don’t you dare deny it! I’ve heard you, when you think I’m asleep, sneaking out. You think you’re being quiet but I could hear it! ‘Oh, Cas, oh, please!’ and you think I was just going to stay?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean snarls back.
“Don’t I? You’re just completely lusting after him and you’re just pushing me away.”
“I am not!”
“You just can’t see it, can you?” Sam shouts. “Can’t see anything but Castiel because he’s all you think about! Isn’t it?!”
Dean slams his fist into Sam’s face, knocking his brother onto the ground.
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Sam stands up, wiping blood from his mouth. “You’re just ass over elbows for the guy and you can’t even admit it!”
Dean punches him again and again and again. He punches until Sam is limp and bleeding.
---
They’re miles away when Dean feels ready to tell Sam his plan. His brother is bruised and leaning against the window, a beer can against his eye. They haven’t said a word to each other since the motel in Lawrence.
“I’ve got Cas’s cousin,” Dean says gently. “Balthazar. He lives in Easter, Pennsylvania, just outside Reading.”
“Sounds good,” Sam looks out the window, watching rain splatter the glass.
“Look, we can do our job or we can fight, but we can’t do both,” Dean snaps. “I get it, okay? You’re jealous, but we can’t just let him go.”
“No, Dean,” Sam sighs. “You can’t let him go.”
“Sam, this isn’t the time to fight,” Dean groans. “We’ll be in Easter soon. Get ready.”
Sam doesn’t turn to look at his brother. The fight has gone out of him completely. It’s getting exhausting, fighting for Dean’s attention. Perhaps it’s time for Sam to just give in, to let Dean have Castiel, wholly and entirely. He can’t say he’s happy about it, and not just because he’s losing Dean to a stranger, but because Dean can’t even give the courtesy to admit he’s got feelings for Castiel.
“So, Castiel told you about Balthazar?” Sam says softly, still not looking at his brother.
“Yeah, he stayed with him for a while,” Dean’s voice is strained. “Guess they were pretty close. Cas stayed with him after he left his family.”
“Don’t you think he’ll know we’re after him then?” Sam asks. “If he and Cas were that close.”
“Doubt it,” Dean says. “Balthazar lives in a pretty big house. He’s a thief, probably isn’t used to being on the receiving end of, well, anything.”
“If you’re sure,” Sam sighs.
They don’t say anything for the rest of the drive.
Dean is right though. Balthazar has a huge house. It’s close to being a mansion, with large double doors and turrets with a wrought iron gate. Sam raises his eyebrows and glances at Dean the first time in eight hours.
“This is gonna be hard,” Sam shakes his head. “Breaking in.”
“Nah,” Dean says. “Can’t be that hard. Let’s get to it.”
They pull out their duffels, weapons hidden inside. Dean has his lockpick in hand and they walk stealthily towards the door. Sam looks around, noticing the cameras that are mounted on the house. This is the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.
Dean is getting reckless.
“Got it,” Dean hisses, pushing the door open.
They slide into the house silently, years of practice honing them to be perfect ghosts, keeping to the shadows. Smooth jazz is coming from a great room with a grand piano. A well dressed man stands in the room, a glass of wine in hand.
“You two must be the Winchesters,” his voice is low and British.
Sam hits Dean, giving him a clear you-said-he-wouldn’t-know-us glare. Dean gives the shut-up shrug and shoots. Balthazar falls, blood pooling beneath him.
“Dean!” Sam shouts.
“He’s not dead,” Dean walks forward, kicking Balthazar. “Got him on the shoulder.”
“So now what are you going to do?” Sam asks. “Just gonna leave him there? Shooting isn’t really your style.”
“This is just the beginning,” Dean kneels next to Balthazar’s face. “I am going to make him squeal, make him beg.”
“Do your worst, Winchester,” Balthazar says in his smarmy voice. “But remember, I know all about you and my dear cousin. Oh yeah, you and Cassie. Didn’t you know? I was the one who suggested that Cassie be a hunter. He always complained about sinners and how they were never properly punished. I told him to be the punisher. And he’s doing such a good job!”
“So you brought him to me,” Dean’s grin grows predatory.
Sam is silent as Dean starts his torture. He ignores Balthazar’s screams and laughter. He isn’t really sure how long the torture goes, just that it keeps going and going. Dean is laughing, talking about Castiel and how grateful he is that Balthazar brought him to the world.
There’s a small ping and Sam looks around. Cameras move in the room until they are facing Dean and Sam and Balthazar. An uneasy feeling rushes over Sam. This cannot be good.
“I’m a thief, Winchester,” Balthazar gurgles through his blood. “Thieves need protection.”
Dean freezes and looks up. Sam’s blood falls from his face, his heart too frightened to bother pumping. He can hear the sirens.
---
Balthazar is dead on the ground, blood pooling around him. Sam looks out the window, his face white in the faint moonlight. Cops are completely around the house, sirens blaring. Dean’s gun and knife are limp in his hands. This was not a part of the plan.
Looking in hindsight, Dean really should have known better than to try and kill a thief in his own home at night. A thief who is related to Cas no less. He should’ve known that something like this was going to happen. He should have planned for it.
He was just too excited to get back at Cas. Now he and Sam are both in danger.
“Alright Sam, we gotta get out of here,” Dean says. “Bastard’s gotta have an escape route somewhere. Right?”
“Dean,” Sam closes the curtain and comes up to him. “There’s no way out.”
“Don’t talk like that, Sam!” Dean shouts. “There is always a way out and we will find it. You hear me? We’re making it out of here.”
“No, we aren’t,” Sam sighs. “You are.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sam walks to the bags, his face resolute. “I’ll distract them. I’ll lead them away and you can run for the door and get out.”
“No!” Dean shouts, grabbing Sam’s arm, as if he could hold him back. “You aren’t leaving!”
“Dean, I have to!” Sam grabs back. “Castiel doesn’t care about me. He cares about you and you care about him. If you are dead set on getting revenge or whatever it is you want of him, then you’ve got to live. You gotta make it out.”
“I’m not going without you!”
“You have to!”
“I can’t!”
Sam stops. His eyes dim from their frantic glow and he just stares at Dean.
“I can’t go on without my brother,” Dean says softly. “I just can’t. I can’t go without you.”
Dean realizes, finally, what a gaping hole there would be without his brother. That nothing can possibly make up the loss of Sammy. He can’t believe he’s been so stupid to push his brother away, that he let something as trivial as lust force itself between them.
They might have been able to make amends, if they had a week, even just four days to fix whatever had broken. It’s too late now. The damage has been dealt. The police are coming. In one infinite moment, Dean thought of what might have been. They could have been doing this their whole life, maybe get enough money as hitmen to retire and settle down. They could have had everything together.
“Dean,” Sam says, “I’m doing this for you. You have a future with Castiel, I don’t. You need him and he needs you.”
“I need my brother!”
“What is Castiel going to do if he finds out you’re dead?” Sam’s voice changes slightly. It’s his argument voice that he uses when he needs to debate with Dean. He picked it up at college. “Castiel doesn’t give a shit about me, but he cares a hell of a lot about you. You’re the only one who can get to him. So promise me, Dean. After this, you go find him and keep him in line.”
“Sammy,” Dean barely breathes.
“Just... make it good, yeah?” Sam grins. “When you tell him about us. About me.”
Dean pulls him in. Holds his baby brother tight for once last time. He’ll do more than make it good. He’ll make it glorious. He’ll give Sam Winchester the warrior’s death that he deserved. People will remember his death as long as Dean has air in his lungs.
“I’m sorry, little brother,” Dean whispers as they pull apart.
“Don’t be,” Sam says. “I chose this. I’m giving you to Castiel. Don’t mess it up.”
“Not that,” Dean shakes his head. “I mean....”
He means what? Dean didn’t mean to lose Sam? He didn’t mean all those horrible things he said in Kansas? He didn’t mean to become so infatuated with Cas, it just happened? That he hoped he and Sam would have been a dynamic duo for the rest of their lives it just didn’t happen that way and it’s his fault because Dean always lets down the ones he loves? He means all of those things and at the same time none of them.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam puts on his brave face. “Let’s do this.”
“Kick it in the ass,” Dean grins back, despite the lightning sparking from his heart.
Sam takes a deep breath and pulls out two guns Dean has hoped they never got to used. High powered, magazine fed rifles with enough bullets to take down at least a dozen men. Dean turns to the door while Sam takes a step the other direction.
“Goodbye, Sammy,” he whispers.
Sam kicks open the door, shouting and firing. Dean watches, his giant baby brother, guns firing, grinning in the flashing lights. He watches up until that first bullet catches Sam’s arm, blood flying out from the wound. Sam’s arm falls, crippled from the shot, but he keeps firing.
He turns around and runs.
Part X
Dean’s waiting by the motel, leaning against his stolen pickup truck, arms crossed. Sam better have a good reason for getting up and leaving to kill Bela without telling him. Dean worried for four days about Sam. He wasn’t sure if Sam was even alive or where to start looking. Sam didn’t have the courtesy to send a text to give Dean peace of mind. Just left him hanging and waiting.
Sam pulls up in a yellow mustang and Dean lifts up his hand, jingling the keys to a motel room. He sets it on the trunk of his car and turns to the room. Best not to traumatize the good people of Lawrence.
As angry as he is, Dean knows he can’t kill his brother. He would like to. He’d love to kill his brother for this, but he can’t.
The door creaks open and Sam walks in, face penitent. He’s got blood on his shirt and his hair has bits of leaves stuck in it.
“Dean, I was gonna call,” he says.
It’s his voice. His innocent, I’m-your-baby-brother-don’t-hurt-me voice that gets to Dean. Anger flows through him and he feels his hands shaking, blood pounding in his ears.
“I was gonna let you know when I got there,” Sam says. “But it’s a long drive to Vegas and it just slipped my mind.”
“Slipped your mind?” Dean’s surprised at how steady his voice is. “It just slipped your mind to let me know that you were alive?”
“Dean.”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me!” Dean shouts. “I was worried sick for four days! I looked everywhere for you! I couldn’t stand watching the news because it might be your dead body on the screen!”
“You weren’t looking for me,” Sam sighs. “I left a note on your phone, saying where I went.”
Dean opens and closes his mouth. A note on his phone? He didn’t see any note... he just saw the text from Castiel. He flips the cell open, going to the notepad feature he never uses. And there it is, a note.
gone to vegas for bela. -sam
“I just... that is...” Dean sputters.
“You didn’t even try, Dean!” Sam’s voice grows accusatory. “I was waiting for a text from you telling me to come back and leave Bela alone and it never came! If you were looking for me then why didn’t just call me?!”
“I was busy!” Dean slams his phone onto the bed. “Okay?! I was busy!”
“Busy with what?!” Sam shouts, throwing his arms out in a challenge. “Last time I left you tore apart half the country for me.”
“It was Cas, okay?” Dean gives in. “I was talking to Cas.”
Sam’s arms fall to his side and his face crumbles. “You were talking to Cas?” he repeats. “And that kept you from looking for me?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Dean backtracks. “He just sent me a text the day you left and I just... got caught up in it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam folds his arms. “You just ‘got caught up in it’ naturally.”
“Why did you even go after Bela?” Dean asks, desperate to change the conversation.
“Because she still betrayed us.”
“Come on Sam, there’s something bigger than that.”
“Because I needed to get away from you!” Sam snaps. “Ever since Castiel came in he’s all you can think about and don’t you dare deny it! I’ve heard you, when you think I’m asleep, sneaking out. You think you’re being quiet but I could hear it! ‘Oh, Cas, oh, please!’ and you think I was just going to stay?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean snarls back.
“Don’t I? You’re just completely lusting after him and you’re just pushing me away.”
“I am not!”
“You just can’t see it, can you?” Sam shouts. “Can’t see anything but Castiel because he’s all you think about! Isn’t it?!”
Dean slams his fist into Sam’s face, knocking his brother onto the ground.
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Sam stands up, wiping blood from his mouth. “You’re just ass over elbows for the guy and you can’t even admit it!”
Dean punches him again and again and again. He punches until Sam is limp and bleeding.
---
They’re miles away when Dean feels ready to tell Sam his plan. His brother is bruised and leaning against the window, a beer can against his eye. They haven’t said a word to each other since the motel in Lawrence.
“I’ve got Cas’s cousin,” Dean says gently. “Balthazar. He lives in Easter, Pennsylvania, just outside Reading.”
“Sounds good,” Sam looks out the window, watching rain splatter the glass.
“Look, we can do our job or we can fight, but we can’t do both,” Dean snaps. “I get it, okay? You’re jealous, but we can’t just let him go.”
“No, Dean,” Sam sighs. “You can’t let him go.”
“Sam, this isn’t the time to fight,” Dean groans. “We’ll be in Easter soon. Get ready.”
Sam doesn’t turn to look at his brother. The fight has gone out of him completely. It’s getting exhausting, fighting for Dean’s attention. Perhaps it’s time for Sam to just give in, to let Dean have Castiel, wholly and entirely. He can’t say he’s happy about it, and not just because he’s losing Dean to a stranger, but because Dean can’t even give the courtesy to admit he’s got feelings for Castiel.
“So, Castiel told you about Balthazar?” Sam says softly, still not looking at his brother.
“Yeah, he stayed with him for a while,” Dean’s voice is strained. “Guess they were pretty close. Cas stayed with him after he left his family.”
“Don’t you think he’ll know we’re after him then?” Sam asks. “If he and Cas were that close.”
“Doubt it,” Dean says. “Balthazar lives in a pretty big house. He’s a thief, probably isn’t used to being on the receiving end of, well, anything.”
“If you’re sure,” Sam sighs.
They don’t say anything for the rest of the drive.
Dean is right though. Balthazar has a huge house. It’s close to being a mansion, with large double doors and turrets with a wrought iron gate. Sam raises his eyebrows and glances at Dean the first time in eight hours.
“This is gonna be hard,” Sam shakes his head. “Breaking in.”
“Nah,” Dean says. “Can’t be that hard. Let’s get to it.”
They pull out their duffels, weapons hidden inside. Dean has his lockpick in hand and they walk stealthily towards the door. Sam looks around, noticing the cameras that are mounted on the house. This is the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.
Dean is getting reckless.
“Got it,” Dean hisses, pushing the door open.
They slide into the house silently, years of practice honing them to be perfect ghosts, keeping to the shadows. Smooth jazz is coming from a great room with a grand piano. A well dressed man stands in the room, a glass of wine in hand.
“You two must be the Winchesters,” his voice is low and British.
Sam hits Dean, giving him a clear you-said-he-wouldn’t-know-us glare. Dean gives the shut-up shrug and shoots. Balthazar falls, blood pooling beneath him.
“Dean!” Sam shouts.
“He’s not dead,” Dean walks forward, kicking Balthazar. “Got him on the shoulder.”
“So now what are you going to do?” Sam asks. “Just gonna leave him there? Shooting isn’t really your style.”
“This is just the beginning,” Dean kneels next to Balthazar’s face. “I am going to make him squeal, make him beg.”
“Do your worst, Winchester,” Balthazar says in his smarmy voice. “But remember, I know all about you and my dear cousin. Oh yeah, you and Cassie. Didn’t you know? I was the one who suggested that Cassie be a hunter. He always complained about sinners and how they were never properly punished. I told him to be the punisher. And he’s doing such a good job!”
“So you brought him to me,” Dean’s grin grows predatory.
Sam is silent as Dean starts his torture. He ignores Balthazar’s screams and laughter. He isn’t really sure how long the torture goes, just that it keeps going and going. Dean is laughing, talking about Castiel and how grateful he is that Balthazar brought him to the world.
There’s a small ping and Sam looks around. Cameras move in the room until they are facing Dean and Sam and Balthazar. An uneasy feeling rushes over Sam. This cannot be good.
“I’m a thief, Winchester,” Balthazar gurgles through his blood. “Thieves need protection.”
Dean freezes and looks up. Sam’s blood falls from his face, his heart too frightened to bother pumping. He can hear the sirens.
---
Balthazar is dead on the ground, blood pooling around him. Sam looks out the window, his face white in the faint moonlight. Cops are completely around the house, sirens blaring. Dean’s gun and knife are limp in his hands. This was not a part of the plan.
Looking in hindsight, Dean really should have known better than to try and kill a thief in his own home at night. A thief who is related to Cas no less. He should’ve known that something like this was going to happen. He should have planned for it.
He was just too excited to get back at Cas. Now he and Sam are both in danger.
“Alright Sam, we gotta get out of here,” Dean says. “Bastard’s gotta have an escape route somewhere. Right?”
“Dean,” Sam closes the curtain and comes up to him. “There’s no way out.”
“Don’t talk like that, Sam!” Dean shouts. “There is always a way out and we will find it. You hear me? We’re making it out of here.”
“No, we aren’t,” Sam sighs. “You are.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sam walks to the bags, his face resolute. “I’ll distract them. I’ll lead them away and you can run for the door and get out.”
“No!” Dean shouts, grabbing Sam’s arm, as if he could hold him back. “You aren’t leaving!”
“Dean, I have to!” Sam grabs back. “Castiel doesn’t care about me. He cares about you and you care about him. If you are dead set on getting revenge or whatever it is you want of him, then you’ve got to live. You gotta make it out.”
“I’m not going without you!”
“You have to!”
“I can’t!”
Sam stops. His eyes dim from their frantic glow and he just stares at Dean.
“I can’t go on without my brother,” Dean says softly. “I just can’t. I can’t go without you.”
Dean realizes, finally, what a gaping hole there would be without his brother. That nothing can possibly make up the loss of Sammy. He can’t believe he’s been so stupid to push his brother away, that he let something as trivial as lust force itself between them.
They might have been able to make amends, if they had a week, even just four days to fix whatever had broken. It’s too late now. The damage has been dealt. The police are coming. In one infinite moment, Dean thought of what might have been. They could have been doing this their whole life, maybe get enough money as hitmen to retire and settle down. They could have had everything together.
“Dean,” Sam says, “I’m doing this for you. You have a future with Castiel, I don’t. You need him and he needs you.”
“I need my brother!”
“What is Castiel going to do if he finds out you’re dead?” Sam’s voice changes slightly. It’s his argument voice that he uses when he needs to debate with Dean. He picked it up at college. “Castiel doesn’t give a shit about me, but he cares a hell of a lot about you. You’re the only one who can get to him. So promise me, Dean. After this, you go find him and keep him in line.”
“Sammy,” Dean barely breathes.
“Just... make it good, yeah?” Sam grins. “When you tell him about us. About me.”
Dean pulls him in. Holds his baby brother tight for once last time. He’ll do more than make it good. He’ll make it glorious. He’ll give Sam Winchester the warrior’s death that he deserved. People will remember his death as long as Dean has air in his lungs.
“I’m sorry, little brother,” Dean whispers as they pull apart.
“Don’t be,” Sam says. “I chose this. I’m giving you to Castiel. Don’t mess it up.”
“Not that,” Dean shakes his head. “I mean....”
He means what? Dean didn’t mean to lose Sam? He didn’t mean all those horrible things he said in Kansas? He didn’t mean to become so infatuated with Cas, it just happened? That he hoped he and Sam would have been a dynamic duo for the rest of their lives it just didn’t happen that way and it’s his fault because Dean always lets down the ones he loves? He means all of those things and at the same time none of them.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam puts on his brave face. “Let’s do this.”
“Kick it in the ass,” Dean grins back, despite the lightning sparking from his heart.
Sam takes a deep breath and pulls out two guns Dean has hoped they never got to used. High powered, magazine fed rifles with enough bullets to take down at least a dozen men. Dean turns to the door while Sam takes a step the other direction.
“Goodbye, Sammy,” he whispers.
Sam kicks open the door, shouting and firing. Dean watches, his giant baby brother, guns firing, grinning in the flashing lights. He watches up until that first bullet catches Sam’s arm, blood flying out from the wound. Sam’s arm falls, crippled from the shot, but he keeps firing.
He turns around and runs.
Part X