Speaking for the Dead - Pt 2
Speaking for the Dead - Part Two
Dean tilted his head up to the bright sunlight, eyes shut tight, trying to catch some of the warmth. And even though he could feel the weak heat on his skin it wasn’t sinking in. He had goose bumps creeping up his bare arms every time a breeze worked its way down the road.
Dean was ready to just drop down on the side of the road. His head felt like it would implode from the pressure of his headache. Everything hurt. He couldn’t seem to get warm.
They had been moving the better part of the day. And even after Dean had gotten them back onto a road they hadn’t been passed by so much as a wandering cow. He had no idea where they were, or in which direction the nearest tiny piece of civilization was.
Aside from a brief break he’d taken closer to noon, Dean hadn’t stopped moving. He knew that if he stopped moving then Clayton Reynolds was going to find them. And nothing would save them then.
:::
Dean wasn’t sure if he were seeing things.
The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when the gas station came into view at the bottom of a hill. There was a car parked around back, power and phone lines running in from a cross street. Hope swelled in his chest when the sign lights flickered on to attract customers.
Dean’s eyes practically burned in relief. He wanted to fucking jump and whoop but restrained himself to nothing more than slightly hysterical laughter. Sage had her head tucked against Dean’s throat and he didn’t want to scare her by losing it.
Dean lengthened his steps, wanting to reach the gas station and its land line telephone as quickly as humanly possible. His cell phone had been destroyed, probably when he’d been taken.
A bell jingled just above the door when Dean shoved it open.
The kid behind the counter looked up when they came in, feet dropping off the counter with a loud thud. "Holy shit, man," the kid said, standing up.
Sage pressed her face into his shoulder, curling more tightly into his chest, fingers clutching at the material of his shirt. Dean ran a soothing had up and down her back. She just tried to curl in tighter, making herself as small as possible.
"Can I use your phone?" Dean asked. His voice sounded raw, even to him, his throat sore and dry.
The kid nodded a little too hard. "Yeah," he said, pulling a cordless handset from the base on the back counter. "Hey, did you guys have an accident or something?
Dean shook his head and reached for the phone. He punched in Sam's number and waited for his brother to answer.
It didn't take long. Two rings and Sam's voice came over the line. "Hello?"
Dean's eyes closed in relief. "Hey, Sammy," he greeted. His knees felt a little weak. Because up until that moment, Dean hadn't been sure that Sam was going to answer the phone. Hadn't known what had happened to his little brother. As talkative as Clayton had been, he hadn't mentioned anything about Sammy.
"Jesus Christ, Dean. Where the hell are you?"
"I-" Dean looked over to the kid. "Hey, kid, where am I?"
The kid rattled off an address and Dean repeated it for Sam, and then listened to his brother curse on the other side of the phone.
"I can be there in about an hour and a half," Sam told him. Relief and elation clear in his brother’s voice. It made Dean’s chest ache with something other than pain to hear that tone in his brother’s voice. "Jesus, fuck, Dean. Where the hell have you been? What happened?" he demanded. Sam always got a little sharp when he was upset and trying to hide it.
"Not now, Sam," Dean breathed, pleaded. "Just... just come and pick us up."
Silence stretched for a moment before Sam asked, "Us?"
"Sam," Dean said, warning clear in his voice.
"Right,” Sam answered, voice clipped. “An hour and a half."
:::
It was actually a little over two hours before Sam got there.
The sun had already set, and the kid behind the counter was really starting to get on Dean's nerves.
He asked too many questions. Questions Dean didn't know how to answer. But he kept offering to call the police or an ambulance or a tow truck, thinking that they'd been in an accident. Dean kept insisting that they were fine, but he still bought a bottle of aspirin and water for his headache that just seemed to be getting worse with the more the kid talked. Dean just didn't feel up to making friendly chit chat. Didn't feel up to much really.
Dean spent a lot of those two hours talking to Sage in a hushed tone. She was still in his arms, having refused to let go when Dean tried to put her down a little while ago. "Sam's my brother," he was telling her again, not really knowing what else to say. "He's coming to get us and we'll go some place safe, sweetheart. I promise."
Dean was sitting on the floor, his back to the counter, Sage sitting on his lap, little body tucked so tightly against his chest that Dean could feel the shallow cuts reopening, sluggishly bleeding. He didn't want to stand up - couldn't really find the energy to do it anyway - and give the kid another reason to try and convince Dean to let him call for some help.
He was nearly asleep and fighting it, murmuring nonsense words, when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala pulling up.
Dean was struggling to get back on to his feet without putting the kid down when Sam practically burst through the door.
He hesitated for just a second, staring down at Dean with some mix of relief and terror, before he was striding forward and helping Dean up off the floor. "Fuck, man, you look like shit," Sam breathed.
"Took you long enough, Sammy," Dean drawled. "You got everything packed in the trunk?"
"Yeah, Dean," Sam answered.
He still hadn't let go of Dean's arm, hovering a little too closely. Normally Dean would be pulling away from Sam, putting a little distance between them with a stranger in the room. Except, for the first time in what felt like forever, Dean could feel warmth, honest to God warmth, seeping under his skin. Dean just wanted to wrap himself up in Sam and go to sleep, let his brother's body heat suck him into sweet, safe oblivion.
"Good," Dean nodded, stepping into Sam, brushing against his brother's body, before continuing to the door.
The kid behind them came around the counter to follow them out of the little building that had sheltered Dean for the last few hours. "Hey," the kid called softly over Dean's shoulder. "Hey, look, you should probably get them to a hospital or something," he was saying. "Your brother looks like death warmed over, and I think your niece is in shock."
Dean felt Sam's steps falter a little, and Dean was pretty sure the only reason why he knew that was because he was still letting Sam carry some of his weight as they walked. Sam didn't even hesitate in answering, "I probably will. Thanks for looking after them while they waited for me."
The kid held the back door of the car open while Sam tried to help Dean get in.
Once Dean was settled in the back seat, relaxing for the first time, he tried to will some of the tension out of his body. It was easier said than done because they were sitting still. They had to get moving. They were still too close to where Clayton had been holding them and sooner or later that son of a bitch was going to start looking for them - if he wasn't already looking. Dean wanted to be long fucking gone before the bastard decided to come wandering down to the gas station.
"Look," Dean could hear the kid speaking to Sam through the closed door. "Head back the way you came, take the second right to get back into town. Hospital is on the other side of town from there. It's the closest one. Only old man Ryker's place out the other way and more back woods than you can shake a stick at."
"Thanks again," Sam was saying from the other side of the car. Dean listened as the front door opened and Sam getting in.
They were only a few minutes down the road when Sam called to him.
Dean forced his eyes open, caught Sam watching him in the rear-view mirror instead of the road. "Do you guys need a hospital, Dean?" Sam asked when he had Dean's attention.
Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy. We aren't hurt bad enough to need a hospital." Sleep made his words thick on his tongue, a slight effort to get them out. "Just drive clear into tomorrow. Don't stop in town 'cept to fill 'er up. Want as much distance between us and here as we can get."
Sam didn't respond for a moment, just watched Dean carefully in the mirror before he finally nodded.
When Dean felt the engine growl louder as Sam gave her more gas, Dean reached over and pulled one of the old army blankets from the floor. He gave it a half hearted shake before sprawling out as best he could on the back seat, Sage still stuck to him like glue, pulling the blanket over them.
Dean let the familiar smell and sounds of the Impala lull him into sleep.
:::
Dean wasn't really sure what time it was when they finally pulled into the parking lot of another shady motel. The sun was riding high in the sky, though, so he figured they'd been driving all night and the better part of the day. And Dean felt nothing but relief to be away that he didn't even bitch about Sammy driving all the way without waking him up for his turn.
Dean got the bags out of the trunk while he waited for Sammy to get back from getting them a room. Sage stuck close by him, watching everything he did. Dean had to be careful not to step back into her, not used to having such a tiny person following him around anymore.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean said when he nearly tripped over the little girl for the third time. "Doing okay?"
She just stared up at him without answering him. And Dean figured that was answer enough - she'd just lost her mother, slept next to her dead body, after getting kidnapped by a fucking psycho. "Ask a stupid question, eh?"
Dean hefted the bags into one hand over his shoulder and reached out to take Sage's hand. The kid looked more than a little lost standing next to the Impala in the middle of some random motel parking lot. "We won't be here long," Dean promised them both. Because Dean didn't want to stick around, not when they could put a couple of states between them and Clayton anyway. "We'll just wash up and rest here for the night and we'll back on the road in the morning, okay?"
Sage clutched tightly to Dean's hand before she nodded and then turned to look around the place. Dean couldn't help but note the slight crinkle of her nose and looked up to see the over flowing dumpster just at the other end of the parking lot. And Dean hoped that Sam made sure they didn't end up in the room next to that.
"You hungry at all?" Dean asked, trying to draw the kid's attention back to him. Because they might be on the out skirts of some unnamed little town in the middle of nowhere, but Dean would bet money that the place also rented rooms by the hour. And there was no way he was going to be the reason the kid saw something she really shouldn't.
Sage looked back at him and nodded again.
"Still don't feel much like talkin', do you?" he asked without any heat. He didn't really need to see her shake her head to know the answer to that question.
If she didn't want to talk, Dean wasn't going to make her. He still remembered after his mother died, how he hadn't wanted to talk, and someone had talked his dad into sending him to see some shrink. He’d started talking eventually, but it hadn’t been because of the shrink.
"S'okay," he told her, as Sam left the office with a room key in hand. Looking back down at the little girl, he jiggled her hand a little. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But you're gonna have to tell me when you need something. You can whisper to me, okay? So no one else has to hear you. Sound good?"
He was rewarded with a small smile. Dean wasn't sure why that fragile little smile landed like a kick to the gut, but it did.
"Got us a room," Sam announced when he was close enough. He frowned a little when Sage stepped in closer to Dean, trying to hide behind his leg.
Dean nodded and didn't try to drag Sage out from behind him. "Lead the way, Sammy. Think we're both ready for a shower and some food.
Sam just sent him a confused look before heading towards the room a few doors down from where they'd parked but a good distance from the dumpster. And Dean was more than a little thankful that Sam wasn't asking the million and one questions Dean was pretty sure were burning on his tongue.
Dean dumped the bags on the first bed when they got into the room and headed straight for the bathroom, turning on all the taps and flushing the toilet. Sage followed him and stood shuffling her feet while Dean made sure they were going to have something resembling water pressure to bathe and shit with.
When they came back into the room, Sam was shutting off the lights and heading for the bags to pull out the salt.
"Gotta check to make sure everything works in a place like this," Dean explained to Sage. Sam looked up at him when he started speaking. It was a lesson Sam already knew. Something Dean had taught Sam after John had taught it to him. "When you stay in places that rent rooms by the hour, you wanna make sure they aren't trying to cheat you."
Dean reached out to take one of the salt canisters from Sam and they went about the rest of the room in relative silence. Sage continued to follow him around, stood patiently by when Dean started to mark up the window ledges and vents with runes. They'd started warding the vents when a fucking pixie found it to be the only way into the room.
And that had been a fucking nightmare to explain to their father. At least until Dean pointed out, in a rare moment of rebellion, that John had missed the vent as an entrance point, too. They'd started warding the vents as soon as they'd caught the fucking pixie.
Once the room had been properly warded Dean turned towards his brother, watched Sammy putting the salt canisters away in their bags. Sage was standing behind him, little hands clutched in the pant legs of his jeans. "Sammy, I need you to run out to the store and pick up a few things."
"Things?" Sam asked, straightening to his full height. Dean couldn't help but notice the way he just didn't acknowledge Sage, who was hiding behind him. It wasn't like Sammy knew how to deal with little kids anyway... he'd been the baby of the family his entire life, never had to deal with kids younger than him except when he decided to, or for a hunt.
"Need you to head into town and pick up some clothes for Sage here and some basics, too." Dean told his brother as though it should have been obvious. "And can you pick up some food while you’re out too, man? We are seriously starved."
Sam looked as though he wanted to argue with Dean before he left the motel room. But he eventually just scooped up the keys and left the room. Dean waited until he heard the roar of the Impala's engine leave the parking lot before turning to the little girl standing behind him.
"C'mon," Dean said, heading towards the bathroom. "Let's get a bath run for you so you can get washed up."
Sage trailed behind him into the bathroom where Dean pulled the curtain back on the shower and checked the bottom of the tub. Satisfied that it actually clean enough to put a child in, Dean stuck in the plug and started the water running.
Sage just stood there, watching him as Dean tested the water on the inside of his wrist. Dean got up and grabbed down a towel and face cloth setting them on the lowered lid of the toilet. He brought over the little soaps and shampoos that came with their room. And it surprised Dean a little that they even had these considering how cheap the room was.
"There you go, sweetheart," Dean said, turning the water off and standing up. "You give me a shout if you need anything."
Dean left the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him and went right for the bags to dig out some fresh clothes for himself, and possibly a t-shirt to put Sage in while they waited for Sammy to get back from the store.
He didn't even make it past the first bed before he was being called short.
"De!"
Dean turned around abruptly and went right back to the bathroom. Because Sage had been refusing to speak since Dean had met the kid. So if she were going to be shouting like that, Dean was going to answer - even if he hadn't been called De since Sammy was six.
Pushing open the door, Dean poked his head around the corner and looked to where Sage was still standing, never having moved in the first place. She was just staring at the door, waiting for Dean to get back. "What's up?"
Sage lifted her arms in the air and wiggled her fingers at the ceiling. "Help."
Dean sighed softly and went into the bathroom. He knelt down in front of Sage and tugged her shirt up and over her head and tossing the dirty material off to one side. "Your mom used to give you baths?" Dean asked, reaching down to tug off her shoes and socks next.
It had been a while since he'd had to bathe a little kid. Actually, Caleb's newest rug rat was the last one to get the dubious honour. Dean was pretty good with kids, didn't matter how old or young they were. He could do the whole diaper changing, bottle feeding, colic screaming, and scraped knees. But Dean just couldn't wash a kid without getting himself just as soaked as the kid he was trying to clean up. His best work was done with wet wipes and explosive diarrhea.
"How about this," Dean offered, "I'll stick around, wash out your hair for you, but you gotta take care of everything else, okay?"
Sage nodded her acceptance and Dean tossed the rest of her clothing into the same corner as her shirt and shoes. "Okay, in we go," Dean said, picking Sage up and putting her into the bathtub.
Sage sat down and waited for him.
Dean was floored for a moment with the level of trust and dependence he was once more responsible for providing. Dean reached onto the counter for the empty ice bucket and filled it with water before dumping it over Sage's head. "You gotta remember though, I haven't had to wash anyone’s hair that was longer than mine in a real long time," Dean teased.
But after a few moments and another small half smile from Sage, Dean had the girl's hair lathered, his fingers rubbing against her scalp, rubbing away the grit of dirt and oil. "Things aren't going to be so bad," Dean said softly into the quiet warmth of the bathroom. "Me and Sammy, we've been doing this since I was about your age. And really, for all that? Not everything in this world is so terrible. There are some really beautiful things out there. And I know it seems like nothing is gonna be good again, but some day you're gonna look back and think well, it could have been worse, you know?"
Dean rinsed the shampoo out of Sage's hair and repeated the process one more time just to be safe. He didn't think she was actually listening to him, too busy playing with the wash cloth and the little bar of soap, but Dean kept talking anyway. It might not be soothing her but it was comforting him.
"I know you don't have any family left," he said softly, working the shampoo into a good lather. "And me and Sammy, well, we're all that's left of ours. And there could be worse things in life than getting stuck with the two of us. I mean, sure Sammy gets real gassy when he eats some kinds of foods and I snore when I have a cold. But you know, you could always end up with a bunch of people who don't even know that this whole other world exists out there. I'm not going to make you end up in a place like that, where you have to hide part of who you are just because no one would believe you even if you told them, showed them, what was really out there.
"You can stay here with me and Sammy," Dean promised, rinsing out the shampoo again and pulling some conditioner through the ends. "You can stay with us, and we'll look after you. Won't let anything happen to you here with us. Promise."
:::
Sam was standing in the middle of the girl section of the kids clothing department looking more than a little lost some twenty minutes after leaving Dean in the motel room. He'd never been surrounded by so much pink and glitter in his life. Sam wasn't even really sure where he should be starting to look for clothes for the girl Dean had brought back with him.
How the hell was he supposed to judge size for a girl anyway? He'd never had to shop for anyone except for himself. And even before he'd left, Dean had almost always been the one doing the shopping.
Sam felt more than a little out of his depth.
He was pretty sure he would have stood there all god damn night if some woman hadn't crashed her cart into his, startling him.
"Sorry," Sam murmured at the same time the woman gasped out her own apology.
She had a baby hanging from a carrier on her front with a toddler sitting in the buggy and a little girl clinging to the side of the shopping cart. "I didn't see you there," the woman apologized again, pushing her hair from her face. "Got distracted by the little one," she explained.
Sam just nodded, not really sure which kid the woman was talking about or how she could possibly not notice him just standing there like a fool, but willing to agree that kids in general could be distracting. "You don't mind me saying, but you're looking kind of overwhelmed."
Sam's gaze snapped back to the woman. "It's just... I've... There's so much pink," Sam finally said, feeling his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment.
The woman just laughed. "Well you are standing in the girls clothing section. Who you shopping for?"
"My niece," Sam's brain quickly supplied. "She's... My Brother is back with her at the motel we're staying in. He sent me out to buy some clothes and stuff for her. Just the basics, actually."
The woman frowned at him, rubbing the baby's belly through the material of the carrier. "The basics?"
And Sam sort of wished he could take back his words and get a minute or so to come up with a proper cover story. Actually, he wished he wasn't here at all. That Dean had gone out to buy girl clothes for the kid he'd picked up.
"Yeah," Sam answered, ducking his head. "My... There was an accident. She lost everything, her home, her mom." Sam shrugged a little and looked back up at the woman. "Hospital called my brother and told him what had happened. She'd never told him about being pregnant when they split."
The woman gasped softly at that. "The poor thing," she murmured softly, hand covering her mouth. "Well then," she added, straightening her shoulders and adjusting the baby in the carrier. "You just come with me and I'll help you get those things for your niece."
"It doesn't have to be pink, does it?" Sam asked with a slight smile of relief. Though he was completely serious about the pink question. Didn't really matter if they were keeping the kid or not, Sam was pretty sure his brother would kill him if Sam came back with bags loaded down with pink frilly shit.
The woman just laughed at him again. "Believe it or not, but not all girls wear pink." She stuck out her hand and introduced herself then. "Carolyn."
"Sam," he said, taking her hand.
Finally armed against all the pink, Sam didn't feel so intimidated by the little girls section of Wal-Mart.
:::
Dean was coming out of the bathroom, pulling a relatively clean t-shirt over his head when Sam stumbled back into the room with something like a dozen bags in his hands. Sage was sitting in front of the TV, watching some black and white movie on mute.
"Dude," Dean said, striding over to help his brother. "I said pick up some basics, not to buy out the store."
"I did pick up the essentials," Sam snapped. "But, seriously, man. I've never shopped for a girl before. I don't even know her sizes."
They set the bags down on one of the beds and Dean started going through them. He'd dressed Sage into his last clean t-shirt, and the damn thing hung on her like a dress. "So what did you end up doing? Just grabbing anything off the racks?"
"No, I found a woman shopping with her daughter who looked to be about the same age and height as the kid," Sam informed him, his gaze bouncing to the wall and back to Dean. It was enough to tell Dean his brother wasn’t exactly lying, but probably stretching the truth some. "Pulled out the slightly desperate look and told her a sob story about how I was trying to replace the basics for my niece who'd recently lost her home."
Dean went back to sorting through the bags, separating the items Sam had brought back. "So what did you bring back?"
"Couple pairs of jeans, a pair of overalls," Sam began listing. "About a dozen different shirts of various colours. Socks, underwear, cammies, pyjamas, some sweat shirts and hoodies, and a coat. I wasn't sure about her shoe size so I picked up a couple of pairs I thought might fit." Sam was pulling all these things out of the bags as he spoke, and Dean stood back to watch.
"What the fuck is a cammie?" he asked.
Sam shrugged a little and held a packet of three up for Dean. "The girl version of an undershirt."
Dean frowned a little at the package of three cammies in his hand. They did look like the girl version of an undershirt, with the frills and stitching on it. Looking to the rest of the stuff laid out on the bed, Dean figured Sammy had done a good job. It wasn't like either of them really knew what to be buying for a little girl anyway.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean called. "Come take a look at the stuff Sammy brought back and let's pick something out to get you dressed in." Dean tossed the cammies back on the bed and glanced down when Sage crept up behind him, as far as she could get from Sam and still see on the bed.
Dean ran a hand over her damp hair and asked in a gentler voice, "See anything you like?" They were going to have to try everything on. They didn't have enough space in the car to be traveling with stuff that didn't fit or couldn't be used. He'd take her shopping for whatever they had to replace in the next town they stopped in.
Sage pulled the overalls and a long sleeved green shirt off the bed, holding them up to Dean for his approval. "Looks good to me," Dean told her. He grabbed the package of underwear off the bed and tore into the plastic to get a pair free. He couldn't really hold back the dirty feeling he got from handling them and had to wonder just how Sammy had felt going out to actually buy them, sob story or not.
"Think you can handle getting into this stuff?" Dean asked.
The kid nodded, looking down at the clothing in her hands.
"Good," Dean said with no hint of the relief he felt. Bathing the kid was one thing, but even Sammy had been dressing himself by three. He might not always have matched, but he'd been able to get into and out of his own clothing by then. "Go get changed in the bathroom. Give a shout if you need any help."
They both watched the kid disappear into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her.
"I need to take a look at those cuts on your chest, Dean," Sam said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Dean shook his head and moved towards their bags on the other bed. "Don't worry about it, Sam. I cleaned them up before I took a shower. I'm fine."
Sam snorted behind him. "Let me check the cuts, Dean," Sam insisted.
"Seriously, Sammy," Dean tried, forcing a grin. "I'm fine."
"Just show me the fucking cuts, Dean," Sam snapped. The irritation in Sam's voice was enough to make Dean sigh. Because a pissed off Sam just didn't let shit go. He'd keep pestering Dean until he finally gave in and showed him the cuts. It was usually better to just get it all over with, less frustration all around.
With an annoyed huff, Dean pulled his shirt up and off, spread his arms out a little and asked, "Want me to make a little spin for you, too?"
But Sam wasn't really listening to him. He was looking at the marks on Dean's chests, his eyes serious and concerned. "Jesus, Dean," he said, so softly, Dean was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear.
Sam went to their bags and pulled out one of the first aid kits they kept in case of emergencies. It was the smaller one, thankfully. The larger kit was actually tucked in the bag that held the gear they most often took with them. "I'm going to put some antiseptic cream on them," Sam was saying. "Should probably bandage them, too, to keep them clean."
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's back and glanced down at his chest. Most of the cuts were shallow and would probably heal clean, but a few of them were deep enough that they would leave scars. He couldn't really explain why that knowledge sent a mild wave of relief through him, except that ever since he'd come back from Hell without his scars, Dean had felt more like a stranger in his body than the actual owner of it. It was like his history had been erased with those marks.
Sam came back at him with a tube of cream that Dean knew was going to sting like a bitch, a handful of bandages, and the large roll of gauze. Dean was just sitting on the bed to let Sam have his way with him when the bathroom door opened and Sage stepped out cutting off the teasing words that sat on the tip of his tongue.
The buckles on the overalls were dragging on the ground behind the kid as she came towards them. She kept a weary eye on Sam and moved up to Dean's other side. "Have some trouble with the buckles?" Dean asked.
She nodded, but wasn't really looking at Dean, instead frowning at Sam as he uncapped the antiseptic cream and squeezed some out on his fingers. She looked back to Dean and pointed at one of the cuts on his chest, her little brows drawn in tightly together.
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I got a little hurt back at that house." He hissed when Sam smeared some of the cold cream over one of the cuts. The sting came a few seconds later and Dean ground his teeth to keep from cursing. "None of them are serious," he assured the little girl. "But Sammy here, he's just making sure they stay clean and don't get infected."
Sam hummed and moved on to another cut.
Trying to distract himself a little from what Sammy was doing, Dean reached over to Sage. "C’mere and let me get those buckles done up for you," Dean said. Moving meant it would take Sam longer to finish up with the cuts, but adjusting the buckles and straps on Sage's overalls gave Dean something to do other than swear at his brother.
It only took a minute to get the buckles done up properly on the overalls and Dean was once more gritting his teeth as Sam dabbed at the cuts on his chest and sides. "You should have let me take a look at these earlier," Sam muttered.
"They aren't that bad, Sammy," Dean hissed.
Sam snorted and reached for the roll of gauze and bandages. "They aren't serious now, but what if one of them had gotten infected because you were too busy being a stubborn ass?"
Dean just rolled his eyes and let his brother work. There wasn't any point in arguing with him about something like this. It wouldn't matter what Dean said, Sam would find some way to make Dean feel like an ass.
"Did you bring back any food?" Dean asked.
"There's a diner a couple blocks away," Sam answered. "Didn't see the point in bringing food back when we're leaving in the morning anyway."
Dean frowned at his brother. Because, sure, when it was just him and Sam they'd skip meals when they were on the road or money was tight while they waited for a new card to come in. It was different with a kid in tow, though. There used to be food in the car all the time when they were younger and they were going to be on the road for a while. Sure it might only have been slightly stale bread and peanut butter they had to eat with their fingers, but it was food.
Sam pulling at the waist of his jeans to peak under the material drew Dean back to himself. "How far down do those cuts go, Dean?"
Dean pulled away from his brother, standing up and reaching for his shirt. "Far enough," he responded tightly, jerking his t-shirt over his head. When he looked back to his brother's concerned face, Dean sagged a little on the inside. "You can check them later, Sammy, promise. But I'm starved."
There was no way Dean was going to strip down with Sage awake and in the same room as them. Dean watched as Sam's gaze flicked towards Sage and then back to him before understanding seemed to dawn on his brother's expression and he let the matter drop for the moment.
Turning back to the kid, Dean hoisted her up onto his hip and wandered over to where they'd left the clothes Sam had bought her. "Alright, now. Let's see if Sam's a good judge of shoe size."
:::
They didn't have to wait long before a waitress came around to take their orders when they got to the diner. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen a woman respond to him like that before either. All sweet smiles and soft looks. He wasn't entire sure he was comfortable with the difference either. Flirty he could handle, but having some woman look at him like she were putting him in some kind of domestic fantasy was just damn creepy.
Flipping the plastic menus around until he found the kid sized meals, Dean did the best he could at ignoring the attention they were getting.
Looking over the food lists, he frowned at the choices, just realizing he knew nothing about the kid sitting next to him. Tucked between Dean's side and the window, Sage was building a house out of the sugar packets.
It wasn't like it was difficult to order for a kid. Chicken fingers or a burger with fries would probably do the trick. Except Dean had no idea if the girl had allergies. Frowning at the menu for another moment, Dean completely missed whatever it was the waitress had asked when she came back with their drinks.
"We need a few more minutes before we order," Sam was saying.
Dean glanced up then and tossed a grin to their waitress before going back to the menu.
Laying the menu down on the table Dean turned to the kid sitting next to him. "So what kind of food do you want?" he asked.
Sage abandoned her sugar packet house and pulled herself up to stand on the bench and look at the menu. She was frowning down at the thing hard enough that Dean realized that she probably couldn't read it.
Leaning over with her he started going through the options with her. "Okay," he said, settling in as though for a serious debate. "So we got chicken with french fries, burgers with fries, hot dogs with french fries, mac and cheese, and pizza." He pointed out each item on the menu as he read it to her. "Any of that sound good to you?"
Dean watched her consider the menu for another second before she jabbed a finger at her choice. "Chicken fingers and fries it is, then," Dean said with a grin.
When he looked over to Sam, Dean was taken aback by the thoughtful look on his brother's face. It was an expression Dean was more used to seeing while Sam was figuring out what piece of the puzzle they were missing during a hunt. He'd never actually had it directed at him before. "What?" he asked, a little more defensively than he had intended.
Sam didn't get a chance to answer right away since their waitress decided to come back and check on them. They put in their orders and waited for her to leave.
Soon as she was gone, Sam didn't waste another second to answer Dean's question. "Does she speak at all?"
Dean tossed his brother a glare before answering. "Yes, Sam, she speaks."
Sage threw a sugar packet at Sam. It didn't do more than bounce off Sam's arm but the point had been made and it made Dean laugh. "She's got a point, Sammy."
"And what point would that be, Dean?" Sam asked, scowling slightly as he tossed the sugar packet back onto the table.
Dean smirked at his brother then. "It's kinda rude to talk about someone when they're sitting right there."
Sam flushed at being called on his behaviour and Dean suppressed the laughter that wanted to break free. Because it used to be Sammy pointing out to him and John that they were talking about him as though he weren't even in the room. Sage just went back to playing with the sugar packet now that the food choices had been made.
"Which way do you want to head out tomorrow?" Sam asked, switching the topic of conversation.
Dean shrugged a little. "Find any hunts?"
Sam frowned at him before answering. "Couple states over," he said with some hesitation. "Either a haunting or a cursed object."
"Then we'll head out that way," Dean answered. Leaning over to the unoccupied table a few feet away he picked up the little tray with the sugar packets and passed them over to Sage. "I don't really want to be sitting too still right now. A little more distance'll be nice."
"Dean," Sam started and then stopped. "Dean, if whatever took you is still back there, we should go back and kill it."
"No," Dean stated flatly.
"Make sure of the kill," Sam quoted with a fairly good imitation of John's voice. "Dean, you know as well as I do that you don't just leave the creature wounded because it'll probably come back ten times as pissed."
"It wasn't a monster, Sam," Dean told him in a hushed voice. "It was just a sadistic son of a bitch. And we aren't talkin' about this here with present company."
They were saved from further conversation when their waitress arrived with the food. Dean got distracted helping Sage set up her plate, getting ketchup and vinegar on her fries and a little puddle of mustard for her chicken. And then he just dug right into his own food, not giving Sam a chance to pick their conversation back up.
The three of them ate in silence after that. Even after they got deserts all around. Dean wasn't used to not talking to Sam through meals. They were usually discussing what ever hunt they were on, or one they were planning to take.
It didn't help that he still felt unnerved by what had happened back at that house with Clayton Reynolds. Keeping secrets from Sam wasn't something he was used to doing. Not intentionally anyway. Forgetting to tell his brother about something was one thing, but just not saying anything? It felt too much like lying to the one person in the world he could actually tell the entire truth to.
The slight tugging on his sleeve brought Dean back to himself and where he was. Dean shivered a little when the material got pulled away from his skin, leaving a little pocket of cool air behind. Even his shower hadn't helped him produce any body heat. He'd felt cold ever since Sam had finished wrapping his chest.
Sage tugged on his sleeve again to get his attention. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning towards her.
Stretching up she whispered to him, "Bathroom." Or at least, Dean's brain translated bat-hoom to mean bathroom.
He still hesitated a second before sliding out of the booth and holding his hand out to the kid. "We'll be back in a few, Sammy," Dean said before leading the way to the back of the diner where the bathrooms were.
And that was when Dean realized just how screwed he was. He hadn't had to do this kind of thing since Sam had grown up. And it had been so much easier then. Dean stood hesitating just outside of the bathrooms trying to figure out which one he was supposed to be using.
He'd probably get the cops called on him if he brought Sage into the women's bathroom, but he didn't really want to bring her into the men's room either. Sage danced a little while Dean stood around trying to make up his mind.
Squaring his shoulders, Dean stepped forward and pushed open the men's room door. Going in first, he made sure there wasn't anyone standing at one of the urinals before opening the door wider for Sage to follow him in. The bathroom was blessedly empty.
Dean checked the one stall to make sure it was clean before crouching down to undo the buckles on the overalls. "Okay, the toilet's clean and the seat's down. I'm going to be standing right outside the stall holding the door closed for you, okay?"
Sage nodded and then dashed to the toilet as soon as the buckles were free on her overalls. Dean closed the bathroom stall and held it shut from the top. He felt sort of like a pervert for bringing a little girl into the men's bathroom, just standing there. But it wasn't like he could have just handed her off to their waitress.
He just hoped to god she didn't fall into the toilet while she was in there. Because, yeah, that wasn't something Dean wanted to deal with, but it was probably something he should have thought of before letting her in there on her own.
"Everything alright in there?" Dean asked, not really sure if he should expect an answer or not. They were alone, so she might talk, but then Dean had promised her that she didn't have to talk if she really didn't want to.
He got a little hum in response to his question. And everything sounded like it was okay since he could hear her pulling the toilet paper and then clothing getting pulled back into place. She was tugging on the bottom of the door to be let out a minute later.
Dean opened the door and crouched back down to redo her overalls before getting up and flushing the toilet. "Let's get those hands washed," Dean said leading the way to the sinks.
By the time they got back from the bathroom, Sam had already settled their bill and gotten a couple of coffees to go with a juice box.
:::
It didn't really take that much to get Sage settled in for the night. She was sitting next to Dean on one of the beds watching a movie about some rat that could cook and was helping some poor kid keep his job. Dean wasn't really sure; he hadn't been paying that much attention to the movie since they ordered it.
He was just relaxing, sort of drifting between wakefulness and half asleep, with the warm weight of little girl tucked against his side. Letting her shallow even breaths calm and sooth him. It seemed sort of contradictory really, that a kid’s presence could be so relaxing since he knew kids were a lot of work and a shit load of worry.
Sam was sitting at the table, laptop open, papers and news articles scattered around him. He was researching their next hunt, trying to collect as much information as he possibly could before they left in the morning. Dean was pretty sure Sam didn't actually need to be doing that much work before they got to wherever it was they were going - not that Dean had actually asked where they were headed except for away. Dean had a feeling that Sam was just biding his time until they could talk.
Talk about what had happened after Dean had left the motel room. Where he'd been taken, by whom, what had happened there. Sam would want all the details. And Dean wasn't sure he could give them all away. He wasn't even sure he knew what the fuck was going on. Because how was he supposed to tell Sammy that there was a chance that he had some freaky powers of his own now? At least, not without sounding hypocritical and calling himself a freak. Because if he actually did have those powers? What else could he be?
The credits were rolling on the screen sooner than Dean would have liked, and Sage was down for the count when Sam called over to him.
Shifting carefully out of the bed, Dean tucked the blankets back around Sage before he grabbed a seat at the table with Sam. Dean had no idea how to start this conversation. Fuck, he didn't even want to be having it in the first place. He just wanted to forget anything had ever happened, that there hadn't been a reason for him to be out and about that night instead of tucked away in the motel room with Sam warm and naked in a bed.
"So," Sam started and Dean glanced up at his brother, waiting. "How far down do the cuts go?"
Dean blinked slowly, trying not to let his eyes fall shut in relief. Because his injuries were something like a safe topic of discussion. In a kind of twisted way where Dean wasn't actually talking about what had happened to him.
"Over my hips and a couple on my upper thighs," Dean answered and watched as Sam got up and went for the first aid kit again.
Dean stood up to follow Sam into the bathroom. The kid might be asleep, but Dean wasn't dropping his pants while in the same room as her. That was just all levels of wrong.
With the door shut behind them, Dean undid the button fly of his jeans and wiggled the thick material down so Sam could get at the cuts that had been hidden from him before. He leaned back against the counter while Sam sat on the edge of the tub to get a better look.
Sam reached out and traced a finger over one of the longer cuts running parallel to his right hip bone. "These are going to suck when they start to heal," he said softly.
Dean didn't bother to try and hide the shiver Sam's touch evoked. Sam's touch had been warm and slightly erotic. Dean still felt like he'd been left out in the cold too long, like he'd never feel warm again. Sam was warm, and Dean just wanted to wrap himself up in that heat.
Sam withdrew his touch and reached for the first aid kit he'd brought in with them. In the closed off space of the bathroom, the cream Sam smeared over the cuts didn't just sting, but actually had a pretty sharp smell as well. Dean hissed his discomfort when Sam smeared the stuff over his skin, fingers gentle, but it was enough to knock back the first stirrings of arousal.
"You going to tell me what happened?" Sam asked.
He didn't look up at Dean when he spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on his work. Dean stared down at the top of his brother's head when he answered. "Don't really know," he said honestly.
Sam did look up at that, lifting his eyebrows in question before turning back to put cream on another cut.
"I got in the car," he continued through gritted teeth. "And drove out to that shit little bar we hit up our first day in town. Son of a bitch got me just as I was getting out of the car. Don't know what happened. He must’ve knocked me over the head," he said, fingering the small healing gash just running along his hairline.
Sam pulled back and motioned for Dean to drop his pants so he could get to the few cuts on his thighs. Dean tugged the waist of his boxers back up and pushed his jeans down far enough so he could just lift the bottom of his boxers up. That got a slightly amused look from Sam.
Dean felt himself flush a little when Sam smirked up at him, but was thankful he didn't question it. Because it had been a long time since Dean had felt uncomfortable being naked around his brother. It might have taken them a while to admit that they wanted each other, and even longer before they were even remotely okay with doing something about it, but ever since then, Dean had tossed what little modesty he had out the window. And here he was trying to keep everything covered up like some Victorian virgin. But if Sam was willing to ignore the odd behaviour, Dean wasn't going to change it. If he'd stripped down he'd have had to put his ass against the cold counter, and he was having enough trouble staying warm as it was.
"What happened after that?" Sam pushed softly.
Dean swallowed as Sam checked the few cuts on his thighs before answering. "Think he must have drugged me. Woke up the first time and all I remember is hearing some woman screaming in the background. Then... When the drugs wore off, woke up and I saw the kid sleeping in a cage next to mine. Lying in a puddle of blood against her mother's dead body."
Sam's head snapped up, his hands curling around Dean's thighs. "Fuck, Dean," he hissed up to his brother. Disgust and horror warring for dominance in his expression.
Dean shuddered when Sam's warm hands pressed into his skin. All he could think about was sinking into that heat, pulling it around himself like a security blanket. He was thankful that the horror of what he'd described to Sam kept him from picking up on the skip in Dean's words. He didn't know how to tell Sam about that dream that wasn't a dream, but still could have been a drug induced hallucination, but probably wasn't. It was confusing enough wrapping his mind around what had actually happened without having to put it into words.
"Is that..." Sam hesitated a second before going on. "Is that why she's not talking?"
And Dean knew that there was more to Sam's question than what he'd said. A deeper meaning behind the words that he just couldn't voice. Dean wanted to say isn't that enough of a reason, Sammy? Only he didn't because he'd wondered the same thing. "I think so," he said instead. "I don't really know. He took her away once that I know of, and then there were the times when I was out cold that I can't really account for."
Sam looked at the closed bathroom door and then back to Dean. Dean could practically see the wheels working in Sam's brain in that one moment. The way he was rearranging the information he knew to fit into a new pattern, coming to a new conclusion. Whatever that conclusion was tipped the scales on which emotion won the battle because horror reflected clearly in Sam's eyes.
"Jesus Christ," Sam spat, tipping his head forward to rest on Dean's hip. "God, I don't even want to think about what might have happened to her." The words were spoken into Dean's skin, warm breath raising goose bumps.
Dean ran the fingers of one hand through Sam's hair, keeping him close without changing the touch into more than it was. An exchange of contact and comfort. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Dean just absorbing the warmth of Sam's touch.
When Sam finally pulled away and started to put the stuff back into the first aid kit, Dean resettled his clothes and pulled his jeans back up. "What about those?" he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the cuts decorating Dean's body.
Dean didn't even bother glancing at them. He just had to move to feel them; pulling at his skin every time he breathed or shifted. "He was a sick son of a bitch," Dean answered. "Took me into another room to cut on me some."
"Why didn't you just over power him and get the hell out?"
Dean ran his hands through his hair and stepped to the side so Sam could wash his hands. "I'm pretty sure he was some kind of psychic," Dean finally answered. "Used some kind of mojo to move me around when he got me out of that fucking cage."
Dean could feel Sam watching him in the mirror but didn't look up to meet his brother's eyes. This was difficult enough without having to look Sam in the eye and lie to him. There wasn't enough room to be having this conversation in the bathroom. Except he wasn't going to go out into the other room and have it with Sage sleeping in one of the beds. And Dean wasn't going to just leave the room to settle this with Sam over a couple of beers in a bar.
"If he was psychic..." Sam began, turning around to watch Dean try to pace in the tiny space.
"He was weak," Dean told him. "He didn't really have much control. The harder I struggled the more effort the bastard had to put into holding me." Dean shook his head and glanced over at Sam. "The last day, he was saying something about having some long term plans for Sage. Keeping her around and shit once he'd killed me. I just... I don't know," Dean said with a shrug. "I just sort of threw everything I had into fighting that invisible hold of his and I got free.
"And fuck, he was pissed. Didn't even really seem phased by it," Dean continued, his words getting tight and clipped. "And then, fuck, I don't really know what happened. But these ghosts or shades or something, they just started melting out of the walls or something and went after him. He was screaming when I grabbed the kid and just ran for it."
Sam reached out for him then. Long arms wrapping around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in to all that body heat. Dean didn't resist, just put his own arms around his brother and tucked his head against Sam's shoulder. Some little part of his brain was telling him draw back, because Sam thought Dean needed to be comforted and he didn't. Didn't need to be reassured that he was okay, that everything was going to be all right. Except that would mean giving up finally feeling some kind of warmth since yesterday. And Dean didn't really want to give that up just yet.
Sam turned his head, nuzzling against the skin behind Dean’s ear. Dean shivered against Sam, fingers gripping tightly to Sam’s back. On instinct, Dean tilted his head to the side, giving Sam better access to his throat while he tried to decide if he really wanted to go through with this. On one hand, after the fight they’d had, Dean wasn’t sure it would be such a good idea to let himself get carried away and just put everything on the back burner. On the other hand, Dean had been held captive for days and hadn’t known if anything had happened to Sam. And he wanted the reassurance that Sam really was right there with him.
He felt Sam’s teeth scrape on his throat, just this side of painful before Sam was leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses along his jaw. Dean turned his head and caught Sam’s mouth in what began as a chaste kiss. But after the first gentle touch, Sam deepened the kiss, tongue demanding entrance and coaxing Dean to fall head long into the heady rush.
Under the taste of bad coffee and sweet cinnamon roll Dean could taste Sam. And in a distant sort of way, Dean felt himself react to that taste. He pushed into Sam’s body, hands moving up his brother’s back to thread his fingers through his hair. He held Sam in that kiss, arousal a slow burn just under his skin.
The soft moan Sam gave when he pressed back, pushed Dean back against the counter was nearly enough. He had one arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, the other dipping around his waist, and Dean felt himself open up to the slow roll of Sam’s hips. The grind of sweet friction and Sam’s half hard dick such a familiar sensation and one that he’d missed. And that was enough.
Enough for Dean to pull back from the hungry kiss to gasp for air. His head fell back when Sam dropped another open-mouthed kiss on Dean’s throat.
”Kid’s in the other room,” Dean panted.
”She’s sleeping,” Sam assured him, answer bitten into Dean’s neck.
Dean let out a whimpering moan when Sam sucked hard at that spot where his neck met his shoulder. His body arching closer against Sam while Dean’s hands pulled his brother off him. “Doesn’t matter,” Dean told him, trying to fight his natural reaction to get closer to Sam’s touch. “Gotta stop.”
Sam huffed a sigh and pulled Dean away from the counter and drew Dean back against him. “Fine,” he answered, panting into Dean’s hair and just held him.
They stood like that for what felt like forever, but was probably just seconds, before Sam asked another question. "What are we going to do with her now?"
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, pulling away. He moved out of his brother’s reach.
Sam blinked at him, confused and hurt for a second. "We can't keep a kid, Dean," Sam told him, obviously trying for reasonable when he held his hands out before him.
Dean took a half step back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to do with her?" Dean demanded, keeping his voice low. "Drop her off at a pawn shop and trade her in?"
"Dude, orphanages," Sam tried, taking a step closer to him. Closing the space Dean had put between them.
"Yes," Dean scoffed. "Because the foster care system is really going to know what to do with her."
Sam frowned at him, leaning forward into Dean's space. "Well, she'll be better off with a foster family than with us."
Dean could see Sam was getting pissed that logic - or Sam logic anyway - wasn't working with Dean. But Dean wasn't going to back down on this. "I didn't do such a bad job with you," he pointed out, watched his brother flinch. "You turned out pretty good, Sammy. Went off to Stanford even."
"Seriously, Dean," Sam pressed, muscles coiled tight where he leaned back against the counter. "We're having an incestuous relationship, travelling all over the country killing things that shouldn't exist outside of fairy tales and bad horror movies. She's going to have to go to school eventually. Are you going to move her from one school to another like Dad did with us?"
And fuck Sam for having a point there. Because Dean had hated bouncing from one school to another just as much as Sam had. He'd just been better at hiding it than Sammy had been. "Her life is already fucked up to begin with, Sam. Living with two brothers who happen to be fucking isn't going to traumatize her any more than she already is."
After learning why Sage didn't speak, and thinking about the other reasons she might never want to, Dean watched Sam forced to give up some ground. Because, honestly, dealing with incest would be a vast improvement over what would have happened to her if Dean had left her with Clayton.
"Besides," Dean continued, not giving Sam a chance to make another argument. "There's such a thing as home schooling. We can use Bobby's address and enroll her in classes like that. Most of the work would get sent through the net anyway."
Surprise flickered over Sam's face at that. It made Dean relax a little. "You've actually thought about this, haven't you?" he asked, voice soft and hesitant.
Dean looked down and then back up before answering. "Yeah, I've thought about it." He shrugged then and stepped away from Sam, reaching for the door. "Look, I promised her that she wouldn't have to leave. That she could stay here with me. Don't make me break my promise, Sam."
:::
Sam wasn't sure what it was that woke him up. But Dean was missing from the bed and glancing at the cheep clock radio on the night stand told him it was too god damn early to be awake.
Rolling over, Sam didn’t have to search very hard before he found his brother.
He was sleeping in the other bed with Sage tucked up against his chest, an arm wrapped protectively around her. Dean had grudgingly gotten into bed with him to begin with and he’d just kept shifting away from Sam every time he’d tried to wrap himself around Dean’s body, until he’d just stopped trying. The sight of Dean cuddled protectively close to the kid made something tighten in Sam's chest.
Sam had always known Dean was good with kids. Seeing his brother with that little girl just drove the point home. Because he might have been the one to leave and make a try for normal - a real job, a real home, maybe a wife - but Dean was the one who'd held tight to the idea of family.
And from their little adventure in dream walking, Sam knew that somewhere deep down his brother wanted a family of his own. Wanted some place that was safe, someone who wasn't tainted and touched by all the things they'd seen and done. He wanted kids and everything that came with it.
Sam couldn't give him that.
And now there was the little girl. Dean had taken her, wanted to keep her. And it terrified Sam that Dean might actually make good on his words that he wasn't going to hunt forever.
+++++
PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT ||
NOTES & THANKS
Dean tilted his head up to the bright sunlight, eyes shut tight, trying to catch some of the warmth. And even though he could feel the weak heat on his skin it wasn’t sinking in. He had goose bumps creeping up his bare arms every time a breeze worked its way down the road.
Dean was ready to just drop down on the side of the road. His head felt like it would implode from the pressure of his headache. Everything hurt. He couldn’t seem to get warm.
They had been moving the better part of the day. And even after Dean had gotten them back onto a road they hadn’t been passed by so much as a wandering cow. He had no idea where they were, or in which direction the nearest tiny piece of civilization was.
Aside from a brief break he’d taken closer to noon, Dean hadn’t stopped moving. He knew that if he stopped moving then Clayton Reynolds was going to find them. And nothing would save them then.
:::
Dean wasn’t sure if he were seeing things.
The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when the gas station came into view at the bottom of a hill. There was a car parked around back, power and phone lines running in from a cross street. Hope swelled in his chest when the sign lights flickered on to attract customers.
Dean’s eyes practically burned in relief. He wanted to fucking jump and whoop but restrained himself to nothing more than slightly hysterical laughter. Sage had her head tucked against Dean’s throat and he didn’t want to scare her by losing it.
Dean lengthened his steps, wanting to reach the gas station and its land line telephone as quickly as humanly possible. His cell phone had been destroyed, probably when he’d been taken.
A bell jingled just above the door when Dean shoved it open.
The kid behind the counter looked up when they came in, feet dropping off the counter with a loud thud. "Holy shit, man," the kid said, standing up.
Sage pressed her face into his shoulder, curling more tightly into his chest, fingers clutching at the material of his shirt. Dean ran a soothing had up and down her back. She just tried to curl in tighter, making herself as small as possible.
"Can I use your phone?" Dean asked. His voice sounded raw, even to him, his throat sore and dry.
The kid nodded a little too hard. "Yeah," he said, pulling a cordless handset from the base on the back counter. "Hey, did you guys have an accident or something?
Dean shook his head and reached for the phone. He punched in Sam's number and waited for his brother to answer.
It didn't take long. Two rings and Sam's voice came over the line. "Hello?"
Dean's eyes closed in relief. "Hey, Sammy," he greeted. His knees felt a little weak. Because up until that moment, Dean hadn't been sure that Sam was going to answer the phone. Hadn't known what had happened to his little brother. As talkative as Clayton had been, he hadn't mentioned anything about Sammy.
"Jesus Christ, Dean. Where the hell are you?"
"I-" Dean looked over to the kid. "Hey, kid, where am I?"
The kid rattled off an address and Dean repeated it for Sam, and then listened to his brother curse on the other side of the phone.
"I can be there in about an hour and a half," Sam told him. Relief and elation clear in his brother’s voice. It made Dean’s chest ache with something other than pain to hear that tone in his brother’s voice. "Jesus, fuck, Dean. Where the hell have you been? What happened?" he demanded. Sam always got a little sharp when he was upset and trying to hide it.
"Not now, Sam," Dean breathed, pleaded. "Just... just come and pick us up."
Silence stretched for a moment before Sam asked, "Us?"
"Sam," Dean said, warning clear in his voice.
"Right,” Sam answered, voice clipped. “An hour and a half."
:::
It was actually a little over two hours before Sam got there.
The sun had already set, and the kid behind the counter was really starting to get on Dean's nerves.
He asked too many questions. Questions Dean didn't know how to answer. But he kept offering to call the police or an ambulance or a tow truck, thinking that they'd been in an accident. Dean kept insisting that they were fine, but he still bought a bottle of aspirin and water for his headache that just seemed to be getting worse with the more the kid talked. Dean just didn't feel up to making friendly chit chat. Didn't feel up to much really.
Dean spent a lot of those two hours talking to Sage in a hushed tone. She was still in his arms, having refused to let go when Dean tried to put her down a little while ago. "Sam's my brother," he was telling her again, not really knowing what else to say. "He's coming to get us and we'll go some place safe, sweetheart. I promise."
Dean was sitting on the floor, his back to the counter, Sage sitting on his lap, little body tucked so tightly against his chest that Dean could feel the shallow cuts reopening, sluggishly bleeding. He didn't want to stand up - couldn't really find the energy to do it anyway - and give the kid another reason to try and convince Dean to let him call for some help.
He was nearly asleep and fighting it, murmuring nonsense words, when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala pulling up.
Dean was struggling to get back on to his feet without putting the kid down when Sam practically burst through the door.
He hesitated for just a second, staring down at Dean with some mix of relief and terror, before he was striding forward and helping Dean up off the floor. "Fuck, man, you look like shit," Sam breathed.
"Took you long enough, Sammy," Dean drawled. "You got everything packed in the trunk?"
"Yeah, Dean," Sam answered.
He still hadn't let go of Dean's arm, hovering a little too closely. Normally Dean would be pulling away from Sam, putting a little distance between them with a stranger in the room. Except, for the first time in what felt like forever, Dean could feel warmth, honest to God warmth, seeping under his skin. Dean just wanted to wrap himself up in Sam and go to sleep, let his brother's body heat suck him into sweet, safe oblivion.
"Good," Dean nodded, stepping into Sam, brushing against his brother's body, before continuing to the door.
The kid behind them came around the counter to follow them out of the little building that had sheltered Dean for the last few hours. "Hey," the kid called softly over Dean's shoulder. "Hey, look, you should probably get them to a hospital or something," he was saying. "Your brother looks like death warmed over, and I think your niece is in shock."
Dean felt Sam's steps falter a little, and Dean was pretty sure the only reason why he knew that was because he was still letting Sam carry some of his weight as they walked. Sam didn't even hesitate in answering, "I probably will. Thanks for looking after them while they waited for me."
The kid held the back door of the car open while Sam tried to help Dean get in.
Once Dean was settled in the back seat, relaxing for the first time, he tried to will some of the tension out of his body. It was easier said than done because they were sitting still. They had to get moving. They were still too close to where Clayton had been holding them and sooner or later that son of a bitch was going to start looking for them - if he wasn't already looking. Dean wanted to be long fucking gone before the bastard decided to come wandering down to the gas station.
"Look," Dean could hear the kid speaking to Sam through the closed door. "Head back the way you came, take the second right to get back into town. Hospital is on the other side of town from there. It's the closest one. Only old man Ryker's place out the other way and more back woods than you can shake a stick at."
"Thanks again," Sam was saying from the other side of the car. Dean listened as the front door opened and Sam getting in.
They were only a few minutes down the road when Sam called to him.
Dean forced his eyes open, caught Sam watching him in the rear-view mirror instead of the road. "Do you guys need a hospital, Dean?" Sam asked when he had Dean's attention.
Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy. We aren't hurt bad enough to need a hospital." Sleep made his words thick on his tongue, a slight effort to get them out. "Just drive clear into tomorrow. Don't stop in town 'cept to fill 'er up. Want as much distance between us and here as we can get."
Sam didn't respond for a moment, just watched Dean carefully in the mirror before he finally nodded.
When Dean felt the engine growl louder as Sam gave her more gas, Dean reached over and pulled one of the old army blankets from the floor. He gave it a half hearted shake before sprawling out as best he could on the back seat, Sage still stuck to him like glue, pulling the blanket over them.
Dean let the familiar smell and sounds of the Impala lull him into sleep.
:::
Dean wasn't really sure what time it was when they finally pulled into the parking lot of another shady motel. The sun was riding high in the sky, though, so he figured they'd been driving all night and the better part of the day. And Dean felt nothing but relief to be away that he didn't even bitch about Sammy driving all the way without waking him up for his turn.
Dean got the bags out of the trunk while he waited for Sammy to get back from getting them a room. Sage stuck close by him, watching everything he did. Dean had to be careful not to step back into her, not used to having such a tiny person following him around anymore.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean said when he nearly tripped over the little girl for the third time. "Doing okay?"
She just stared up at him without answering him. And Dean figured that was answer enough - she'd just lost her mother, slept next to her dead body, after getting kidnapped by a fucking psycho. "Ask a stupid question, eh?"
Dean hefted the bags into one hand over his shoulder and reached out to take Sage's hand. The kid looked more than a little lost standing next to the Impala in the middle of some random motel parking lot. "We won't be here long," Dean promised them both. Because Dean didn't want to stick around, not when they could put a couple of states between them and Clayton anyway. "We'll just wash up and rest here for the night and we'll back on the road in the morning, okay?"
Sage clutched tightly to Dean's hand before she nodded and then turned to look around the place. Dean couldn't help but note the slight crinkle of her nose and looked up to see the over flowing dumpster just at the other end of the parking lot. And Dean hoped that Sam made sure they didn't end up in the room next to that.
"You hungry at all?" Dean asked, trying to draw the kid's attention back to him. Because they might be on the out skirts of some unnamed little town in the middle of nowhere, but Dean would bet money that the place also rented rooms by the hour. And there was no way he was going to be the reason the kid saw something she really shouldn't.
Sage looked back at him and nodded again.
"Still don't feel much like talkin', do you?" he asked without any heat. He didn't really need to see her shake her head to know the answer to that question.
If she didn't want to talk, Dean wasn't going to make her. He still remembered after his mother died, how he hadn't wanted to talk, and someone had talked his dad into sending him to see some shrink. He’d started talking eventually, but it hadn’t been because of the shrink.
"S'okay," he told her, as Sam left the office with a room key in hand. Looking back down at the little girl, he jiggled her hand a little. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But you're gonna have to tell me when you need something. You can whisper to me, okay? So no one else has to hear you. Sound good?"
He was rewarded with a small smile. Dean wasn't sure why that fragile little smile landed like a kick to the gut, but it did.
"Got us a room," Sam announced when he was close enough. He frowned a little when Sage stepped in closer to Dean, trying to hide behind his leg.
Dean nodded and didn't try to drag Sage out from behind him. "Lead the way, Sammy. Think we're both ready for a shower and some food.
Sam just sent him a confused look before heading towards the room a few doors down from where they'd parked but a good distance from the dumpster. And Dean was more than a little thankful that Sam wasn't asking the million and one questions Dean was pretty sure were burning on his tongue.
Dean dumped the bags on the first bed when they got into the room and headed straight for the bathroom, turning on all the taps and flushing the toilet. Sage followed him and stood shuffling her feet while Dean made sure they were going to have something resembling water pressure to bathe and shit with.
When they came back into the room, Sam was shutting off the lights and heading for the bags to pull out the salt.
"Gotta check to make sure everything works in a place like this," Dean explained to Sage. Sam looked up at him when he started speaking. It was a lesson Sam already knew. Something Dean had taught Sam after John had taught it to him. "When you stay in places that rent rooms by the hour, you wanna make sure they aren't trying to cheat you."
Dean reached out to take one of the salt canisters from Sam and they went about the rest of the room in relative silence. Sage continued to follow him around, stood patiently by when Dean started to mark up the window ledges and vents with runes. They'd started warding the vents when a fucking pixie found it to be the only way into the room.
And that had been a fucking nightmare to explain to their father. At least until Dean pointed out, in a rare moment of rebellion, that John had missed the vent as an entrance point, too. They'd started warding the vents as soon as they'd caught the fucking pixie.
Once the room had been properly warded Dean turned towards his brother, watched Sammy putting the salt canisters away in their bags. Sage was standing behind him, little hands clutched in the pant legs of his jeans. "Sammy, I need you to run out to the store and pick up a few things."
"Things?" Sam asked, straightening to his full height. Dean couldn't help but notice the way he just didn't acknowledge Sage, who was hiding behind him. It wasn't like Sammy knew how to deal with little kids anyway... he'd been the baby of the family his entire life, never had to deal with kids younger than him except when he decided to, or for a hunt.
"Need you to head into town and pick up some clothes for Sage here and some basics, too." Dean told his brother as though it should have been obvious. "And can you pick up some food while you’re out too, man? We are seriously starved."
Sam looked as though he wanted to argue with Dean before he left the motel room. But he eventually just scooped up the keys and left the room. Dean waited until he heard the roar of the Impala's engine leave the parking lot before turning to the little girl standing behind him.
"C'mon," Dean said, heading towards the bathroom. "Let's get a bath run for you so you can get washed up."
Sage trailed behind him into the bathroom where Dean pulled the curtain back on the shower and checked the bottom of the tub. Satisfied that it actually clean enough to put a child in, Dean stuck in the plug and started the water running.
Sage just stood there, watching him as Dean tested the water on the inside of his wrist. Dean got up and grabbed down a towel and face cloth setting them on the lowered lid of the toilet. He brought over the little soaps and shampoos that came with their room. And it surprised Dean a little that they even had these considering how cheap the room was.
"There you go, sweetheart," Dean said, turning the water off and standing up. "You give me a shout if you need anything."
Dean left the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him and went right for the bags to dig out some fresh clothes for himself, and possibly a t-shirt to put Sage in while they waited for Sammy to get back from the store.
He didn't even make it past the first bed before he was being called short.
"De!"
Dean turned around abruptly and went right back to the bathroom. Because Sage had been refusing to speak since Dean had met the kid. So if she were going to be shouting like that, Dean was going to answer - even if he hadn't been called De since Sammy was six.
Pushing open the door, Dean poked his head around the corner and looked to where Sage was still standing, never having moved in the first place. She was just staring at the door, waiting for Dean to get back. "What's up?"
Sage lifted her arms in the air and wiggled her fingers at the ceiling. "Help."
Dean sighed softly and went into the bathroom. He knelt down in front of Sage and tugged her shirt up and over her head and tossing the dirty material off to one side. "Your mom used to give you baths?" Dean asked, reaching down to tug off her shoes and socks next.
It had been a while since he'd had to bathe a little kid. Actually, Caleb's newest rug rat was the last one to get the dubious honour. Dean was pretty good with kids, didn't matter how old or young they were. He could do the whole diaper changing, bottle feeding, colic screaming, and scraped knees. But Dean just couldn't wash a kid without getting himself just as soaked as the kid he was trying to clean up. His best work was done with wet wipes and explosive diarrhea.
"How about this," Dean offered, "I'll stick around, wash out your hair for you, but you gotta take care of everything else, okay?"
Sage nodded her acceptance and Dean tossed the rest of her clothing into the same corner as her shirt and shoes. "Okay, in we go," Dean said, picking Sage up and putting her into the bathtub.
Sage sat down and waited for him.
Dean was floored for a moment with the level of trust and dependence he was once more responsible for providing. Dean reached onto the counter for the empty ice bucket and filled it with water before dumping it over Sage's head. "You gotta remember though, I haven't had to wash anyone’s hair that was longer than mine in a real long time," Dean teased.
But after a few moments and another small half smile from Sage, Dean had the girl's hair lathered, his fingers rubbing against her scalp, rubbing away the grit of dirt and oil. "Things aren't going to be so bad," Dean said softly into the quiet warmth of the bathroom. "Me and Sammy, we've been doing this since I was about your age. And really, for all that? Not everything in this world is so terrible. There are some really beautiful things out there. And I know it seems like nothing is gonna be good again, but some day you're gonna look back and think well, it could have been worse, you know?"
Dean rinsed the shampoo out of Sage's hair and repeated the process one more time just to be safe. He didn't think she was actually listening to him, too busy playing with the wash cloth and the little bar of soap, but Dean kept talking anyway. It might not be soothing her but it was comforting him.
"I know you don't have any family left," he said softly, working the shampoo into a good lather. "And me and Sammy, well, we're all that's left of ours. And there could be worse things in life than getting stuck with the two of us. I mean, sure Sammy gets real gassy when he eats some kinds of foods and I snore when I have a cold. But you know, you could always end up with a bunch of people who don't even know that this whole other world exists out there. I'm not going to make you end up in a place like that, where you have to hide part of who you are just because no one would believe you even if you told them, showed them, what was really out there.
"You can stay here with me and Sammy," Dean promised, rinsing out the shampoo again and pulling some conditioner through the ends. "You can stay with us, and we'll look after you. Won't let anything happen to you here with us. Promise."
:::
Sam was standing in the middle of the girl section of the kids clothing department looking more than a little lost some twenty minutes after leaving Dean in the motel room. He'd never been surrounded by so much pink and glitter in his life. Sam wasn't even really sure where he should be starting to look for clothes for the girl Dean had brought back with him.
How the hell was he supposed to judge size for a girl anyway? He'd never had to shop for anyone except for himself. And even before he'd left, Dean had almost always been the one doing the shopping.
Sam felt more than a little out of his depth.
He was pretty sure he would have stood there all god damn night if some woman hadn't crashed her cart into his, startling him.
"Sorry," Sam murmured at the same time the woman gasped out her own apology.
She had a baby hanging from a carrier on her front with a toddler sitting in the buggy and a little girl clinging to the side of the shopping cart. "I didn't see you there," the woman apologized again, pushing her hair from her face. "Got distracted by the little one," she explained.
Sam just nodded, not really sure which kid the woman was talking about or how she could possibly not notice him just standing there like a fool, but willing to agree that kids in general could be distracting. "You don't mind me saying, but you're looking kind of overwhelmed."
Sam's gaze snapped back to the woman. "It's just... I've... There's so much pink," Sam finally said, feeling his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment.
The woman just laughed. "Well you are standing in the girls clothing section. Who you shopping for?"
"My niece," Sam's brain quickly supplied. "She's... My Brother is back with her at the motel we're staying in. He sent me out to buy some clothes and stuff for her. Just the basics, actually."
The woman frowned at him, rubbing the baby's belly through the material of the carrier. "The basics?"
And Sam sort of wished he could take back his words and get a minute or so to come up with a proper cover story. Actually, he wished he wasn't here at all. That Dean had gone out to buy girl clothes for the kid he'd picked up.
"Yeah," Sam answered, ducking his head. "My... There was an accident. She lost everything, her home, her mom." Sam shrugged a little and looked back up at the woman. "Hospital called my brother and told him what had happened. She'd never told him about being pregnant when they split."
The woman gasped softly at that. "The poor thing," she murmured softly, hand covering her mouth. "Well then," she added, straightening her shoulders and adjusting the baby in the carrier. "You just come with me and I'll help you get those things for your niece."
"It doesn't have to be pink, does it?" Sam asked with a slight smile of relief. Though he was completely serious about the pink question. Didn't really matter if they were keeping the kid or not, Sam was pretty sure his brother would kill him if Sam came back with bags loaded down with pink frilly shit.
The woman just laughed at him again. "Believe it or not, but not all girls wear pink." She stuck out her hand and introduced herself then. "Carolyn."
"Sam," he said, taking her hand.
Finally armed against all the pink, Sam didn't feel so intimidated by the little girls section of Wal-Mart.
:::
Dean was coming out of the bathroom, pulling a relatively clean t-shirt over his head when Sam stumbled back into the room with something like a dozen bags in his hands. Sage was sitting in front of the TV, watching some black and white movie on mute.
"Dude," Dean said, striding over to help his brother. "I said pick up some basics, not to buy out the store."
"I did pick up the essentials," Sam snapped. "But, seriously, man. I've never shopped for a girl before. I don't even know her sizes."
They set the bags down on one of the beds and Dean started going through them. He'd dressed Sage into his last clean t-shirt, and the damn thing hung on her like a dress. "So what did you end up doing? Just grabbing anything off the racks?"
"No, I found a woman shopping with her daughter who looked to be about the same age and height as the kid," Sam informed him, his gaze bouncing to the wall and back to Dean. It was enough to tell Dean his brother wasn’t exactly lying, but probably stretching the truth some. "Pulled out the slightly desperate look and told her a sob story about how I was trying to replace the basics for my niece who'd recently lost her home."
Dean went back to sorting through the bags, separating the items Sam had brought back. "So what did you bring back?"
"Couple pairs of jeans, a pair of overalls," Sam began listing. "About a dozen different shirts of various colours. Socks, underwear, cammies, pyjamas, some sweat shirts and hoodies, and a coat. I wasn't sure about her shoe size so I picked up a couple of pairs I thought might fit." Sam was pulling all these things out of the bags as he spoke, and Dean stood back to watch.
"What the fuck is a cammie?" he asked.
Sam shrugged a little and held a packet of three up for Dean. "The girl version of an undershirt."
Dean frowned a little at the package of three cammies in his hand. They did look like the girl version of an undershirt, with the frills and stitching on it. Looking to the rest of the stuff laid out on the bed, Dean figured Sammy had done a good job. It wasn't like either of them really knew what to be buying for a little girl anyway.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean called. "Come take a look at the stuff Sammy brought back and let's pick something out to get you dressed in." Dean tossed the cammies back on the bed and glanced down when Sage crept up behind him, as far as she could get from Sam and still see on the bed.
Dean ran a hand over her damp hair and asked in a gentler voice, "See anything you like?" They were going to have to try everything on. They didn't have enough space in the car to be traveling with stuff that didn't fit or couldn't be used. He'd take her shopping for whatever they had to replace in the next town they stopped in.
Sage pulled the overalls and a long sleeved green shirt off the bed, holding them up to Dean for his approval. "Looks good to me," Dean told her. He grabbed the package of underwear off the bed and tore into the plastic to get a pair free. He couldn't really hold back the dirty feeling he got from handling them and had to wonder just how Sammy had felt going out to actually buy them, sob story or not.
"Think you can handle getting into this stuff?" Dean asked.
The kid nodded, looking down at the clothing in her hands.
"Good," Dean said with no hint of the relief he felt. Bathing the kid was one thing, but even Sammy had been dressing himself by three. He might not always have matched, but he'd been able to get into and out of his own clothing by then. "Go get changed in the bathroom. Give a shout if you need any help."
They both watched the kid disappear into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her.
"I need to take a look at those cuts on your chest, Dean," Sam said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Dean shook his head and moved towards their bags on the other bed. "Don't worry about it, Sam. I cleaned them up before I took a shower. I'm fine."
Sam snorted behind him. "Let me check the cuts, Dean," Sam insisted.
"Seriously, Sammy," Dean tried, forcing a grin. "I'm fine."
"Just show me the fucking cuts, Dean," Sam snapped. The irritation in Sam's voice was enough to make Dean sigh. Because a pissed off Sam just didn't let shit go. He'd keep pestering Dean until he finally gave in and showed him the cuts. It was usually better to just get it all over with, less frustration all around.
With an annoyed huff, Dean pulled his shirt up and off, spread his arms out a little and asked, "Want me to make a little spin for you, too?"
But Sam wasn't really listening to him. He was looking at the marks on Dean's chests, his eyes serious and concerned. "Jesus, Dean," he said, so softly, Dean was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear.
Sam went to their bags and pulled out one of the first aid kits they kept in case of emergencies. It was the smaller one, thankfully. The larger kit was actually tucked in the bag that held the gear they most often took with them. "I'm going to put some antiseptic cream on them," Sam was saying. "Should probably bandage them, too, to keep them clean."
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's back and glanced down at his chest. Most of the cuts were shallow and would probably heal clean, but a few of them were deep enough that they would leave scars. He couldn't really explain why that knowledge sent a mild wave of relief through him, except that ever since he'd come back from Hell without his scars, Dean had felt more like a stranger in his body than the actual owner of it. It was like his history had been erased with those marks.
Sam came back at him with a tube of cream that Dean knew was going to sting like a bitch, a handful of bandages, and the large roll of gauze. Dean was just sitting on the bed to let Sam have his way with him when the bathroom door opened and Sage stepped out cutting off the teasing words that sat on the tip of his tongue.
The buckles on the overalls were dragging on the ground behind the kid as she came towards them. She kept a weary eye on Sam and moved up to Dean's other side. "Have some trouble with the buckles?" Dean asked.
She nodded, but wasn't really looking at Dean, instead frowning at Sam as he uncapped the antiseptic cream and squeezed some out on his fingers. She looked back to Dean and pointed at one of the cuts on his chest, her little brows drawn in tightly together.
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I got a little hurt back at that house." He hissed when Sam smeared some of the cold cream over one of the cuts. The sting came a few seconds later and Dean ground his teeth to keep from cursing. "None of them are serious," he assured the little girl. "But Sammy here, he's just making sure they stay clean and don't get infected."
Sam hummed and moved on to another cut.
Trying to distract himself a little from what Sammy was doing, Dean reached over to Sage. "C’mere and let me get those buckles done up for you," Dean said. Moving meant it would take Sam longer to finish up with the cuts, but adjusting the buckles and straps on Sage's overalls gave Dean something to do other than swear at his brother.
It only took a minute to get the buckles done up properly on the overalls and Dean was once more gritting his teeth as Sam dabbed at the cuts on his chest and sides. "You should have let me take a look at these earlier," Sam muttered.
"They aren't that bad, Sammy," Dean hissed.
Sam snorted and reached for the roll of gauze and bandages. "They aren't serious now, but what if one of them had gotten infected because you were too busy being a stubborn ass?"
Dean just rolled his eyes and let his brother work. There wasn't any point in arguing with him about something like this. It wouldn't matter what Dean said, Sam would find some way to make Dean feel like an ass.
"Did you bring back any food?" Dean asked.
"There's a diner a couple blocks away," Sam answered. "Didn't see the point in bringing food back when we're leaving in the morning anyway."
Dean frowned at his brother. Because, sure, when it was just him and Sam they'd skip meals when they were on the road or money was tight while they waited for a new card to come in. It was different with a kid in tow, though. There used to be food in the car all the time when they were younger and they were going to be on the road for a while. Sure it might only have been slightly stale bread and peanut butter they had to eat with their fingers, but it was food.
Sam pulling at the waist of his jeans to peak under the material drew Dean back to himself. "How far down do those cuts go, Dean?"
Dean pulled away from his brother, standing up and reaching for his shirt. "Far enough," he responded tightly, jerking his t-shirt over his head. When he looked back to his brother's concerned face, Dean sagged a little on the inside. "You can check them later, Sammy, promise. But I'm starved."
There was no way Dean was going to strip down with Sage awake and in the same room as them. Dean watched as Sam's gaze flicked towards Sage and then back to him before understanding seemed to dawn on his brother's expression and he let the matter drop for the moment.
Turning back to the kid, Dean hoisted her up onto his hip and wandered over to where they'd left the clothes Sam had bought her. "Alright, now. Let's see if Sam's a good judge of shoe size."
:::
They didn't have to wait long before a waitress came around to take their orders when they got to the diner. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen a woman respond to him like that before either. All sweet smiles and soft looks. He wasn't entire sure he was comfortable with the difference either. Flirty he could handle, but having some woman look at him like she were putting him in some kind of domestic fantasy was just damn creepy.
Flipping the plastic menus around until he found the kid sized meals, Dean did the best he could at ignoring the attention they were getting.
Looking over the food lists, he frowned at the choices, just realizing he knew nothing about the kid sitting next to him. Tucked between Dean's side and the window, Sage was building a house out of the sugar packets.
It wasn't like it was difficult to order for a kid. Chicken fingers or a burger with fries would probably do the trick. Except Dean had no idea if the girl had allergies. Frowning at the menu for another moment, Dean completely missed whatever it was the waitress had asked when she came back with their drinks.
"We need a few more minutes before we order," Sam was saying.
Dean glanced up then and tossed a grin to their waitress before going back to the menu.
Laying the menu down on the table Dean turned to the kid sitting next to him. "So what kind of food do you want?" he asked.
Sage abandoned her sugar packet house and pulled herself up to stand on the bench and look at the menu. She was frowning down at the thing hard enough that Dean realized that she probably couldn't read it.
Leaning over with her he started going through the options with her. "Okay," he said, settling in as though for a serious debate. "So we got chicken with french fries, burgers with fries, hot dogs with french fries, mac and cheese, and pizza." He pointed out each item on the menu as he read it to her. "Any of that sound good to you?"
Dean watched her consider the menu for another second before she jabbed a finger at her choice. "Chicken fingers and fries it is, then," Dean said with a grin.
When he looked over to Sam, Dean was taken aback by the thoughtful look on his brother's face. It was an expression Dean was more used to seeing while Sam was figuring out what piece of the puzzle they were missing during a hunt. He'd never actually had it directed at him before. "What?" he asked, a little more defensively than he had intended.
Sam didn't get a chance to answer right away since their waitress decided to come back and check on them. They put in their orders and waited for her to leave.
Soon as she was gone, Sam didn't waste another second to answer Dean's question. "Does she speak at all?"
Dean tossed his brother a glare before answering. "Yes, Sam, she speaks."
Sage threw a sugar packet at Sam. It didn't do more than bounce off Sam's arm but the point had been made and it made Dean laugh. "She's got a point, Sammy."
"And what point would that be, Dean?" Sam asked, scowling slightly as he tossed the sugar packet back onto the table.
Dean smirked at his brother then. "It's kinda rude to talk about someone when they're sitting right there."
Sam flushed at being called on his behaviour and Dean suppressed the laughter that wanted to break free. Because it used to be Sammy pointing out to him and John that they were talking about him as though he weren't even in the room. Sage just went back to playing with the sugar packet now that the food choices had been made.
"Which way do you want to head out tomorrow?" Sam asked, switching the topic of conversation.
Dean shrugged a little. "Find any hunts?"
Sam frowned at him before answering. "Couple states over," he said with some hesitation. "Either a haunting or a cursed object."
"Then we'll head out that way," Dean answered. Leaning over to the unoccupied table a few feet away he picked up the little tray with the sugar packets and passed them over to Sage. "I don't really want to be sitting too still right now. A little more distance'll be nice."
"Dean," Sam started and then stopped. "Dean, if whatever took you is still back there, we should go back and kill it."
"No," Dean stated flatly.
"Make sure of the kill," Sam quoted with a fairly good imitation of John's voice. "Dean, you know as well as I do that you don't just leave the creature wounded because it'll probably come back ten times as pissed."
"It wasn't a monster, Sam," Dean told him in a hushed voice. "It was just a sadistic son of a bitch. And we aren't talkin' about this here with present company."
They were saved from further conversation when their waitress arrived with the food. Dean got distracted helping Sage set up her plate, getting ketchup and vinegar on her fries and a little puddle of mustard for her chicken. And then he just dug right into his own food, not giving Sam a chance to pick their conversation back up.
The three of them ate in silence after that. Even after they got deserts all around. Dean wasn't used to not talking to Sam through meals. They were usually discussing what ever hunt they were on, or one they were planning to take.
It didn't help that he still felt unnerved by what had happened back at that house with Clayton Reynolds. Keeping secrets from Sam wasn't something he was used to doing. Not intentionally anyway. Forgetting to tell his brother about something was one thing, but just not saying anything? It felt too much like lying to the one person in the world he could actually tell the entire truth to.
The slight tugging on his sleeve brought Dean back to himself and where he was. Dean shivered a little when the material got pulled away from his skin, leaving a little pocket of cool air behind. Even his shower hadn't helped him produce any body heat. He'd felt cold ever since Sam had finished wrapping his chest.
Sage tugged on his sleeve again to get his attention. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning towards her.
Stretching up she whispered to him, "Bathroom." Or at least, Dean's brain translated bat-hoom to mean bathroom.
He still hesitated a second before sliding out of the booth and holding his hand out to the kid. "We'll be back in a few, Sammy," Dean said before leading the way to the back of the diner where the bathrooms were.
And that was when Dean realized just how screwed he was. He hadn't had to do this kind of thing since Sam had grown up. And it had been so much easier then. Dean stood hesitating just outside of the bathrooms trying to figure out which one he was supposed to be using.
He'd probably get the cops called on him if he brought Sage into the women's bathroom, but he didn't really want to bring her into the men's room either. Sage danced a little while Dean stood around trying to make up his mind.
Squaring his shoulders, Dean stepped forward and pushed open the men's room door. Going in first, he made sure there wasn't anyone standing at one of the urinals before opening the door wider for Sage to follow him in. The bathroom was blessedly empty.
Dean checked the one stall to make sure it was clean before crouching down to undo the buckles on the overalls. "Okay, the toilet's clean and the seat's down. I'm going to be standing right outside the stall holding the door closed for you, okay?"
Sage nodded and then dashed to the toilet as soon as the buckles were free on her overalls. Dean closed the bathroom stall and held it shut from the top. He felt sort of like a pervert for bringing a little girl into the men's bathroom, just standing there. But it wasn't like he could have just handed her off to their waitress.
He just hoped to god she didn't fall into the toilet while she was in there. Because, yeah, that wasn't something Dean wanted to deal with, but it was probably something he should have thought of before letting her in there on her own.
"Everything alright in there?" Dean asked, not really sure if he should expect an answer or not. They were alone, so she might talk, but then Dean had promised her that she didn't have to talk if she really didn't want to.
He got a little hum in response to his question. And everything sounded like it was okay since he could hear her pulling the toilet paper and then clothing getting pulled back into place. She was tugging on the bottom of the door to be let out a minute later.
Dean opened the door and crouched back down to redo her overalls before getting up and flushing the toilet. "Let's get those hands washed," Dean said leading the way to the sinks.
By the time they got back from the bathroom, Sam had already settled their bill and gotten a couple of coffees to go with a juice box.
:::
It didn't really take that much to get Sage settled in for the night. She was sitting next to Dean on one of the beds watching a movie about some rat that could cook and was helping some poor kid keep his job. Dean wasn't really sure; he hadn't been paying that much attention to the movie since they ordered it.
He was just relaxing, sort of drifting between wakefulness and half asleep, with the warm weight of little girl tucked against his side. Letting her shallow even breaths calm and sooth him. It seemed sort of contradictory really, that a kid’s presence could be so relaxing since he knew kids were a lot of work and a shit load of worry.
Sam was sitting at the table, laptop open, papers and news articles scattered around him. He was researching their next hunt, trying to collect as much information as he possibly could before they left in the morning. Dean was pretty sure Sam didn't actually need to be doing that much work before they got to wherever it was they were going - not that Dean had actually asked where they were headed except for away. Dean had a feeling that Sam was just biding his time until they could talk.
Talk about what had happened after Dean had left the motel room. Where he'd been taken, by whom, what had happened there. Sam would want all the details. And Dean wasn't sure he could give them all away. He wasn't even sure he knew what the fuck was going on. Because how was he supposed to tell Sammy that there was a chance that he had some freaky powers of his own now? At least, not without sounding hypocritical and calling himself a freak. Because if he actually did have those powers? What else could he be?
The credits were rolling on the screen sooner than Dean would have liked, and Sage was down for the count when Sam called over to him.
Shifting carefully out of the bed, Dean tucked the blankets back around Sage before he grabbed a seat at the table with Sam. Dean had no idea how to start this conversation. Fuck, he didn't even want to be having it in the first place. He just wanted to forget anything had ever happened, that there hadn't been a reason for him to be out and about that night instead of tucked away in the motel room with Sam warm and naked in a bed.
"So," Sam started and Dean glanced up at his brother, waiting. "How far down do the cuts go?"
Dean blinked slowly, trying not to let his eyes fall shut in relief. Because his injuries were something like a safe topic of discussion. In a kind of twisted way where Dean wasn't actually talking about what had happened to him.
"Over my hips and a couple on my upper thighs," Dean answered and watched as Sam got up and went for the first aid kit again.
Dean stood up to follow Sam into the bathroom. The kid might be asleep, but Dean wasn't dropping his pants while in the same room as her. That was just all levels of wrong.
With the door shut behind them, Dean undid the button fly of his jeans and wiggled the thick material down so Sam could get at the cuts that had been hidden from him before. He leaned back against the counter while Sam sat on the edge of the tub to get a better look.
Sam reached out and traced a finger over one of the longer cuts running parallel to his right hip bone. "These are going to suck when they start to heal," he said softly.
Dean didn't bother to try and hide the shiver Sam's touch evoked. Sam's touch had been warm and slightly erotic. Dean still felt like he'd been left out in the cold too long, like he'd never feel warm again. Sam was warm, and Dean just wanted to wrap himself up in that heat.
Sam withdrew his touch and reached for the first aid kit he'd brought in with them. In the closed off space of the bathroom, the cream Sam smeared over the cuts didn't just sting, but actually had a pretty sharp smell as well. Dean hissed his discomfort when Sam smeared the stuff over his skin, fingers gentle, but it was enough to knock back the first stirrings of arousal.
"You going to tell me what happened?" Sam asked.
He didn't look up at Dean when he spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on his work. Dean stared down at the top of his brother's head when he answered. "Don't really know," he said honestly.
Sam did look up at that, lifting his eyebrows in question before turning back to put cream on another cut.
"I got in the car," he continued through gritted teeth. "And drove out to that shit little bar we hit up our first day in town. Son of a bitch got me just as I was getting out of the car. Don't know what happened. He must’ve knocked me over the head," he said, fingering the small healing gash just running along his hairline.
Sam pulled back and motioned for Dean to drop his pants so he could get to the few cuts on his thighs. Dean tugged the waist of his boxers back up and pushed his jeans down far enough so he could just lift the bottom of his boxers up. That got a slightly amused look from Sam.
Dean felt himself flush a little when Sam smirked up at him, but was thankful he didn't question it. Because it had been a long time since Dean had felt uncomfortable being naked around his brother. It might have taken them a while to admit that they wanted each other, and even longer before they were even remotely okay with doing something about it, but ever since then, Dean had tossed what little modesty he had out the window. And here he was trying to keep everything covered up like some Victorian virgin. But if Sam was willing to ignore the odd behaviour, Dean wasn't going to change it. If he'd stripped down he'd have had to put his ass against the cold counter, and he was having enough trouble staying warm as it was.
"What happened after that?" Sam pushed softly.
Dean swallowed as Sam checked the few cuts on his thighs before answering. "Think he must have drugged me. Woke up the first time and all I remember is hearing some woman screaming in the background. Then... When the drugs wore off, woke up and I saw the kid sleeping in a cage next to mine. Lying in a puddle of blood against her mother's dead body."
Sam's head snapped up, his hands curling around Dean's thighs. "Fuck, Dean," he hissed up to his brother. Disgust and horror warring for dominance in his expression.
Dean shuddered when Sam's warm hands pressed into his skin. All he could think about was sinking into that heat, pulling it around himself like a security blanket. He was thankful that the horror of what he'd described to Sam kept him from picking up on the skip in Dean's words. He didn't know how to tell Sam about that dream that wasn't a dream, but still could have been a drug induced hallucination, but probably wasn't. It was confusing enough wrapping his mind around what had actually happened without having to put it into words.
"Is that..." Sam hesitated a second before going on. "Is that why she's not talking?"
And Dean knew that there was more to Sam's question than what he'd said. A deeper meaning behind the words that he just couldn't voice. Dean wanted to say isn't that enough of a reason, Sammy? Only he didn't because he'd wondered the same thing. "I think so," he said instead. "I don't really know. He took her away once that I know of, and then there were the times when I was out cold that I can't really account for."
Sam looked at the closed bathroom door and then back to Dean. Dean could practically see the wheels working in Sam's brain in that one moment. The way he was rearranging the information he knew to fit into a new pattern, coming to a new conclusion. Whatever that conclusion was tipped the scales on which emotion won the battle because horror reflected clearly in Sam's eyes.
"Jesus Christ," Sam spat, tipping his head forward to rest on Dean's hip. "God, I don't even want to think about what might have happened to her." The words were spoken into Dean's skin, warm breath raising goose bumps.
Dean ran the fingers of one hand through Sam's hair, keeping him close without changing the touch into more than it was. An exchange of contact and comfort. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Dean just absorbing the warmth of Sam's touch.
When Sam finally pulled away and started to put the stuff back into the first aid kit, Dean resettled his clothes and pulled his jeans back up. "What about those?" he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the cuts decorating Dean's body.
Dean didn't even bother glancing at them. He just had to move to feel them; pulling at his skin every time he breathed or shifted. "He was a sick son of a bitch," Dean answered. "Took me into another room to cut on me some."
"Why didn't you just over power him and get the hell out?"
Dean ran his hands through his hair and stepped to the side so Sam could wash his hands. "I'm pretty sure he was some kind of psychic," Dean finally answered. "Used some kind of mojo to move me around when he got me out of that fucking cage."
Dean could feel Sam watching him in the mirror but didn't look up to meet his brother's eyes. This was difficult enough without having to look Sam in the eye and lie to him. There wasn't enough room to be having this conversation in the bathroom. Except he wasn't going to go out into the other room and have it with Sage sleeping in one of the beds. And Dean wasn't going to just leave the room to settle this with Sam over a couple of beers in a bar.
"If he was psychic..." Sam began, turning around to watch Dean try to pace in the tiny space.
"He was weak," Dean told him. "He didn't really have much control. The harder I struggled the more effort the bastard had to put into holding me." Dean shook his head and glanced over at Sam. "The last day, he was saying something about having some long term plans for Sage. Keeping her around and shit once he'd killed me. I just... I don't know," Dean said with a shrug. "I just sort of threw everything I had into fighting that invisible hold of his and I got free.
"And fuck, he was pissed. Didn't even really seem phased by it," Dean continued, his words getting tight and clipped. "And then, fuck, I don't really know what happened. But these ghosts or shades or something, they just started melting out of the walls or something and went after him. He was screaming when I grabbed the kid and just ran for it."
Sam reached out for him then. Long arms wrapping around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in to all that body heat. Dean didn't resist, just put his own arms around his brother and tucked his head against Sam's shoulder. Some little part of his brain was telling him draw back, because Sam thought Dean needed to be comforted and he didn't. Didn't need to be reassured that he was okay, that everything was going to be all right. Except that would mean giving up finally feeling some kind of warmth since yesterday. And Dean didn't really want to give that up just yet.
Sam turned his head, nuzzling against the skin behind Dean’s ear. Dean shivered against Sam, fingers gripping tightly to Sam’s back. On instinct, Dean tilted his head to the side, giving Sam better access to his throat while he tried to decide if he really wanted to go through with this. On one hand, after the fight they’d had, Dean wasn’t sure it would be such a good idea to let himself get carried away and just put everything on the back burner. On the other hand, Dean had been held captive for days and hadn’t known if anything had happened to Sam. And he wanted the reassurance that Sam really was right there with him.
He felt Sam’s teeth scrape on his throat, just this side of painful before Sam was leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses along his jaw. Dean turned his head and caught Sam’s mouth in what began as a chaste kiss. But after the first gentle touch, Sam deepened the kiss, tongue demanding entrance and coaxing Dean to fall head long into the heady rush.
Under the taste of bad coffee and sweet cinnamon roll Dean could taste Sam. And in a distant sort of way, Dean felt himself react to that taste. He pushed into Sam’s body, hands moving up his brother’s back to thread his fingers through his hair. He held Sam in that kiss, arousal a slow burn just under his skin.
The soft moan Sam gave when he pressed back, pushed Dean back against the counter was nearly enough. He had one arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, the other dipping around his waist, and Dean felt himself open up to the slow roll of Sam’s hips. The grind of sweet friction and Sam’s half hard dick such a familiar sensation and one that he’d missed. And that was enough.
Enough for Dean to pull back from the hungry kiss to gasp for air. His head fell back when Sam dropped another open-mouthed kiss on Dean’s throat.
”Kid’s in the other room,” Dean panted.
”She’s sleeping,” Sam assured him, answer bitten into Dean’s neck.
Dean let out a whimpering moan when Sam sucked hard at that spot where his neck met his shoulder. His body arching closer against Sam while Dean’s hands pulled his brother off him. “Doesn’t matter,” Dean told him, trying to fight his natural reaction to get closer to Sam’s touch. “Gotta stop.”
Sam huffed a sigh and pulled Dean away from the counter and drew Dean back against him. “Fine,” he answered, panting into Dean’s hair and just held him.
They stood like that for what felt like forever, but was probably just seconds, before Sam asked another question. "What are we going to do with her now?"
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, pulling away. He moved out of his brother’s reach.
Sam blinked at him, confused and hurt for a second. "We can't keep a kid, Dean," Sam told him, obviously trying for reasonable when he held his hands out before him.
Dean took a half step back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to do with her?" Dean demanded, keeping his voice low. "Drop her off at a pawn shop and trade her in?"
"Dude, orphanages," Sam tried, taking a step closer to him. Closing the space Dean had put between them.
"Yes," Dean scoffed. "Because the foster care system is really going to know what to do with her."
Sam frowned at him, leaning forward into Dean's space. "Well, she'll be better off with a foster family than with us."
Dean could see Sam was getting pissed that logic - or Sam logic anyway - wasn't working with Dean. But Dean wasn't going to back down on this. "I didn't do such a bad job with you," he pointed out, watched his brother flinch. "You turned out pretty good, Sammy. Went off to Stanford even."
"Seriously, Dean," Sam pressed, muscles coiled tight where he leaned back against the counter. "We're having an incestuous relationship, travelling all over the country killing things that shouldn't exist outside of fairy tales and bad horror movies. She's going to have to go to school eventually. Are you going to move her from one school to another like Dad did with us?"
And fuck Sam for having a point there. Because Dean had hated bouncing from one school to another just as much as Sam had. He'd just been better at hiding it than Sammy had been. "Her life is already fucked up to begin with, Sam. Living with two brothers who happen to be fucking isn't going to traumatize her any more than she already is."
After learning why Sage didn't speak, and thinking about the other reasons she might never want to, Dean watched Sam forced to give up some ground. Because, honestly, dealing with incest would be a vast improvement over what would have happened to her if Dean had left her with Clayton.
"Besides," Dean continued, not giving Sam a chance to make another argument. "There's such a thing as home schooling. We can use Bobby's address and enroll her in classes like that. Most of the work would get sent through the net anyway."
Surprise flickered over Sam's face at that. It made Dean relax a little. "You've actually thought about this, haven't you?" he asked, voice soft and hesitant.
Dean looked down and then back up before answering. "Yeah, I've thought about it." He shrugged then and stepped away from Sam, reaching for the door. "Look, I promised her that she wouldn't have to leave. That she could stay here with me. Don't make me break my promise, Sam."
:::
Sam wasn't sure what it was that woke him up. But Dean was missing from the bed and glancing at the cheep clock radio on the night stand told him it was too god damn early to be awake.
Rolling over, Sam didn’t have to search very hard before he found his brother.
He was sleeping in the other bed with Sage tucked up against his chest, an arm wrapped protectively around her. Dean had grudgingly gotten into bed with him to begin with and he’d just kept shifting away from Sam every time he’d tried to wrap himself around Dean’s body, until he’d just stopped trying. The sight of Dean cuddled protectively close to the kid made something tighten in Sam's chest.
Sam had always known Dean was good with kids. Seeing his brother with that little girl just drove the point home. Because he might have been the one to leave and make a try for normal - a real job, a real home, maybe a wife - but Dean was the one who'd held tight to the idea of family.
And from their little adventure in dream walking, Sam knew that somewhere deep down his brother wanted a family of his own. Wanted some place that was safe, someone who wasn't tainted and touched by all the things they'd seen and done. He wanted kids and everything that came with it.
Sam couldn't give him that.
And now there was the little girl. Dean had taken her, wanted to keep her. And it terrified Sam that Dean might actually make good on his words that he wasn't going to hunt forever.
+++++
PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT ||
NOTES & THANKS