Catalyst
Title: Catalyst
Summary: Things are awkward for Sam and Jess. Dean is mad at Castiel. Stuff Happens.
Warnings/Spoilers: R for language, Spoilers through S5
Author's Note: Aftermath-verse
The hallucination is a short one. Sam’s eyes flicker back and forth unseeingly for a few minutes and he moans, deep and low in his throat like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Dean holds him and says “come on back, come on back,” and Sam does, shaking and crying a little, nothing out of the ordinary (or whatever, this isn’t ordinary, you know?) This wouldn’t be a big deal for them at this point except that twenty-one year old Jessica Moore is standing in the bedroom doorway.
“What was that?” she asks now, fearfully.
Dean doesn’t spare her an answer, because Sam is hyperventilating into his neck and those fucking shallow breaths are turning wheezy. “You’re okay, Sam. It wasn’t real.”
“I know,” Sam gasps out. “I know I know I know.”
“Hey, stop talking. Breathe. Breathe, Sam.”
Sam shuts up and sucks in air hard and his chest expands a little. Okay. Okay. He grabs the inhaler from the bedside table and presses it into Sam’s hand and lifts Sam’s hand to his mouth. “Take a hit, buddy.”
Sam does, his eyes widening a little as the medicine rushes into his lungs, and his breathing stabilizes and they’re fine. They’re fine.
***
Jess corners him in the hallway. “What was that, Dean?”
The thing is, she’s been back for two weeks. She still jumps when Dean checks his gun to make sure it’s loaded. So Sam’s depressions, his nightmares and hallucinations, she’s not ready to understand. She’s not ready for the deeply horrifying and unsettling explanation behind the screams and panic.
But she’s noticed that this isn’t the Sam she left behind.
The thing is, for her, Sam was her twenty-two year old boyfriend two weeks ago.
***
The way they are with each other now is understandable. It’s all that could be expected of either of them under the circumstances. But it’s still so strange.
When they were young (‘they’ being Sam and Dean, of course, because they’re the real pair at this point, because they’re the partners, because Jess is still fucking young), Jess and Sam were the handsiest couple Dean had ever seen. Sam always had his fingers in Jess’s hair, she was always curling up on his shoulder to watch TV, Dean was always smirking at them from off in a corner somewhere and trying to pretend being on the outside looking in didn’t hurt. Now he’d give anything for them to touch each other, hold hands, even bump into each other accidentally. They don’t. They’re so fucking careful about it.
He brings Sam’s sandwich to him on a tray, because he’s embarrassed, because he doesn’t want to leave his room. “She saw me, right?” he says, looking all tearful, fuck.
“Not much,” Dean says. “Did you want a shot?” He tilts the whiskey at Sam and Sam shakes his head. Dean takes a generous slug and caps the bottle. “Mostly she just saw you not breathing. She already knew about that.”
Sam nods disconsolately. He doesn’t want to be weak in front of her right now. Dean gets it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean asks, and doesn’t look at Sam, because Sam will shy away right now. But he shakes his head anyway and buries his face in his pillow, and Dean rests a hand on his brother’s back for a few seconds and goes to find Castiel.
***
“You can’t fuck with people’s lives like this.”
Cas looks up from his book. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“But I can’t help it, Dean, it’s already done. She’s here.”
“And they’re supposed to be fine? Christ, Cas, he watched her die. He watched her burn. Do you know what that did to him?”
Cas looks at him strangely. “I wasn’t there.”
Whatever the fuck that means. “What were you thinking, bringing her here?”
“I don’t know, Dean!” Cas explodes. “I don’t remember. Do you know what they did to me for helping you?”
And there it is.
He can’t be angry at Cas, because Cas has given up so much for this. Because for Sam and Dean and even Jess, it’s an inconvenience, but for Cas it’s an investment. It’s a pledge of faith that this will work, that they’ll all be happy together. Castiel believes in something he doesn’t remember how to explain.
“This is what belief is,” Cas tells him. “This is faith. This is why people believe in God, because they remember a feeling and decide to trust it.”
Dean doesn’t believe in God.
Cas should know that.
***
The screaming wakes Dean like a blade across his skin, sharp and terrible in a way that makes him long to pull back from it, but fuck, Sammy needs him.
He stumbles out of bed and barks his shin on the bedside table, bends double to clutch it for a moment, it’s going to leave a wicked bruise, and Sam screams ”Dean Dean Dean help please Jess oh god no”, how can he even care about a bruise when Sammy sounds like that? He’s a horrible brother, is how. He tried to make Sam leave Jess. He let Sam…no.
Cas hasn’t mastered the art of sleep yet and tends to wander at night, so it’s unsurprising but annoying to run into him in the hall. “Sam’s upset,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather, and thanks, Cas, thank you very fucking much. Dean shoves past him and feels Cas following him. Do whatever the fuck you want, fucking ex-angel.
Sam’s lying flat on his back rubbing his eyes over and over, squeezing them open and shut like he’s going to see something different if he keeps it up. He takes deep breaths that move his chest up and down like a bellows, like he’s practically choking on his own air, and this is going to turn ugly in a minute. He turns to Cas. “Get the nebulizer.”
Cas nods. This is something he’s learned how to do - both the nebulizer and the nod. Cas is assimilating. Cas is human now. Dean has to keep reminding himself.
When he turns back, Jess is there.
She slipped by him somehow. She’s there.
She’s sliding up beside Sam on her knees (this used to look sexy, Dean remembers, and now it just looks sweet), touching his face, whispering “Sam?”
He opens his eyes. “Jess.” It’s not even speech. It’s an inhale. It’s a gasp.
“Hi, baby.” She’s so gentle with him, like she understands how close he is to breaking. Dean wonders if maybe she does.
“You were…” he looks at the ceiling again, and shit, Dean knows what that means. That dream. Fuck, Sammy. It’s been years.
She bends over him, touches her forehead to his, and her hair spills down around them so Dean can hardly hear her. “I’m here.”
“You died,” he maybe says. Dean’s torn between trying to get closer and hear them better, and backing the fuck out of there so they can have this.
But then Sam’s voice breaks on a sob - “You died, Jess,” and he’s sitting up and holding her so goddamn hard, sobbing into her, his poor lungs wheezing against her, and there’s no choice to be made. He goes in and sits down beside them and rubs Sam’s back while Jess holds the inhaler for him and Cas comes back and sets up the nebulizer. Sam says “Jess, Jess,” in this breathless way that cuts off the J and holds her in one arm and wraps the other hand around and around Dean’s sleeve.
"Stop talking, idiot," Dean says fondly, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. It's a goddamn vice on his heart when Sam can't breathe. Sam wipes tears from his eyes roughly, like maybe drying his face will fix his lungs, but he's still sobbing hard in that quiet breathless huh-huh-huh way that Dean hates, terrible and painful.
Jess puts three fingers at the base of his throat and presses gently - what is she fucking doing, trying to kill him? - but it loosens something up, and he relaxes against her, and the sobs don't come so hard.
"What was that?"
She shrugs, looks embarrassed. "Just this thing. It helps sometimes."
And fuck, no one's done this thing - this thing that helps - for Sam since she died. No wonder he's still crying. But they're calm tears now, his breathing's steadying, and the wheeze is still bad but it's not getting any worse.
Dean touches Jess’s wrist, and she turns her arm to hold his hand and kisses Sam on the cheek.
Cas hands them the mouthpiece.
Sam huddles into his family and breathes.
Summary: Things are awkward for Sam and Jess. Dean is mad at Castiel. Stuff Happens.
Warnings/Spoilers: R for language, Spoilers through S5
Author's Note: Aftermath-verse
The hallucination is a short one. Sam’s eyes flicker back and forth unseeingly for a few minutes and he moans, deep and low in his throat like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Dean holds him and says “come on back, come on back,” and Sam does, shaking and crying a little, nothing out of the ordinary (or whatever, this isn’t ordinary, you know?) This wouldn’t be a big deal for them at this point except that twenty-one year old Jessica Moore is standing in the bedroom doorway.
“What was that?” she asks now, fearfully.
Dean doesn’t spare her an answer, because Sam is hyperventilating into his neck and those fucking shallow breaths are turning wheezy. “You’re okay, Sam. It wasn’t real.”
“I know,” Sam gasps out. “I know I know I know.”
“Hey, stop talking. Breathe. Breathe, Sam.”
Sam shuts up and sucks in air hard and his chest expands a little. Okay. Okay. He grabs the inhaler from the bedside table and presses it into Sam’s hand and lifts Sam’s hand to his mouth. “Take a hit, buddy.”
Sam does, his eyes widening a little as the medicine rushes into his lungs, and his breathing stabilizes and they’re fine. They’re fine.
***
Jess corners him in the hallway. “What was that, Dean?”
The thing is, she’s been back for two weeks. She still jumps when Dean checks his gun to make sure it’s loaded. So Sam’s depressions, his nightmares and hallucinations, she’s not ready to understand. She’s not ready for the deeply horrifying and unsettling explanation behind the screams and panic.
But she’s noticed that this isn’t the Sam she left behind.
The thing is, for her, Sam was her twenty-two year old boyfriend two weeks ago.
***
The way they are with each other now is understandable. It’s all that could be expected of either of them under the circumstances. But it’s still so strange.
When they were young (‘they’ being Sam and Dean, of course, because they’re the real pair at this point, because they’re the partners, because Jess is still fucking young), Jess and Sam were the handsiest couple Dean had ever seen. Sam always had his fingers in Jess’s hair, she was always curling up on his shoulder to watch TV, Dean was always smirking at them from off in a corner somewhere and trying to pretend being on the outside looking in didn’t hurt. Now he’d give anything for them to touch each other, hold hands, even bump into each other accidentally. They don’t. They’re so fucking careful about it.
He brings Sam’s sandwich to him on a tray, because he’s embarrassed, because he doesn’t want to leave his room. “She saw me, right?” he says, looking all tearful, fuck.
“Not much,” Dean says. “Did you want a shot?” He tilts the whiskey at Sam and Sam shakes his head. Dean takes a generous slug and caps the bottle. “Mostly she just saw you not breathing. She already knew about that.”
Sam nods disconsolately. He doesn’t want to be weak in front of her right now. Dean gets it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean asks, and doesn’t look at Sam, because Sam will shy away right now. But he shakes his head anyway and buries his face in his pillow, and Dean rests a hand on his brother’s back for a few seconds and goes to find Castiel.
***
“You can’t fuck with people’s lives like this.”
Cas looks up from his book. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“But I can’t help it, Dean, it’s already done. She’s here.”
“And they’re supposed to be fine? Christ, Cas, he watched her die. He watched her burn. Do you know what that did to him?”
Cas looks at him strangely. “I wasn’t there.”
Whatever the fuck that means. “What were you thinking, bringing her here?”
“I don’t know, Dean!” Cas explodes. “I don’t remember. Do you know what they did to me for helping you?”
And there it is.
He can’t be angry at Cas, because Cas has given up so much for this. Because for Sam and Dean and even Jess, it’s an inconvenience, but for Cas it’s an investment. It’s a pledge of faith that this will work, that they’ll all be happy together. Castiel believes in something he doesn’t remember how to explain.
“This is what belief is,” Cas tells him. “This is faith. This is why people believe in God, because they remember a feeling and decide to trust it.”
Dean doesn’t believe in God.
Cas should know that.
***
The screaming wakes Dean like a blade across his skin, sharp and terrible in a way that makes him long to pull back from it, but fuck, Sammy needs him.
He stumbles out of bed and barks his shin on the bedside table, bends double to clutch it for a moment, it’s going to leave a wicked bruise, and Sam screams ”Dean Dean Dean help please Jess oh god no”, how can he even care about a bruise when Sammy sounds like that? He’s a horrible brother, is how. He tried to make Sam leave Jess. He let Sam…no.
Cas hasn’t mastered the art of sleep yet and tends to wander at night, so it’s unsurprising but annoying to run into him in the hall. “Sam’s upset,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather, and thanks, Cas, thank you very fucking much. Dean shoves past him and feels Cas following him. Do whatever the fuck you want, fucking ex-angel.
Sam’s lying flat on his back rubbing his eyes over and over, squeezing them open and shut like he’s going to see something different if he keeps it up. He takes deep breaths that move his chest up and down like a bellows, like he’s practically choking on his own air, and this is going to turn ugly in a minute. He turns to Cas. “Get the nebulizer.”
Cas nods. This is something he’s learned how to do - both the nebulizer and the nod. Cas is assimilating. Cas is human now. Dean has to keep reminding himself.
When he turns back, Jess is there.
She slipped by him somehow. She’s there.
She’s sliding up beside Sam on her knees (this used to look sexy, Dean remembers, and now it just looks sweet), touching his face, whispering “Sam?”
He opens his eyes. “Jess.” It’s not even speech. It’s an inhale. It’s a gasp.
“Hi, baby.” She’s so gentle with him, like she understands how close he is to breaking. Dean wonders if maybe she does.
“You were…” he looks at the ceiling again, and shit, Dean knows what that means. That dream. Fuck, Sammy. It’s been years.
She bends over him, touches her forehead to his, and her hair spills down around them so Dean can hardly hear her. “I’m here.”
“You died,” he maybe says. Dean’s torn between trying to get closer and hear them better, and backing the fuck out of there so they can have this.
But then Sam’s voice breaks on a sob - “You died, Jess,” and he’s sitting up and holding her so goddamn hard, sobbing into her, his poor lungs wheezing against her, and there’s no choice to be made. He goes in and sits down beside them and rubs Sam’s back while Jess holds the inhaler for him and Cas comes back and sets up the nebulizer. Sam says “Jess, Jess,” in this breathless way that cuts off the J and holds her in one arm and wraps the other hand around and around Dean’s sleeve.
"Stop talking, idiot," Dean says fondly, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. It's a goddamn vice on his heart when Sam can't breathe. Sam wipes tears from his eyes roughly, like maybe drying his face will fix his lungs, but he's still sobbing hard in that quiet breathless huh-huh-huh way that Dean hates, terrible and painful.
Jess puts three fingers at the base of his throat and presses gently - what is she fucking doing, trying to kill him? - but it loosens something up, and he relaxes against her, and the sobs don't come so hard.
"What was that?"
She shrugs, looks embarrassed. "Just this thing. It helps sometimes."
And fuck, no one's done this thing - this thing that helps - for Sam since she died. No wonder he's still crying. But they're calm tears now, his breathing's steadying, and the wheeze is still bad but it's not getting any worse.
Dean touches Jess’s wrist, and she turns her arm to hold his hand and kisses Sam on the cheek.
Cas hands them the mouthpiece.
Sam huddles into his family and breathes.