The Journey: Gateway 1/?
Title: The Journey: Gateway
Authors: sasskitten and jeyhawk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: A vision brings Sam and Dean back to Lawrence, Kansas and they learn a few things about family and what they are to each other.
Disclaimer: We don’t own Supernatural, we make no money from it, it’s just for fun.
Note: This follows directly from The Journey: Love Sick. The Journey is an ongoing series written in 'episodes' of about five chapters. So every five chapters or so it will change its nameaccording to the new adventure they are setting out on. Just wanted to let you all know.
All the earlier parts can be found here.
Chapter One
The trip to Lawrence took them two days, Dean was all in favor of driving straight through, but when he'd been behind the wheel for 18 hours straight Sam made him pull up at the first motel they saw. He'd been as freaked out as Dean by his weird vision, where he'd seen his grandmother surrounded by a black cloud that he felt was sucking her life away, but he'd called his aunt who'd told him that his grandmother was still staying strong. She's been overjoyed to hear from him and he'd felt a stab of guilt for just turning his back on his family. He'd sent them an email saying not to worry after he left Stanford but that was the only contact he'd had with them since Jessica's death. They were his family and he loved them, but he'd had to get away from everyone smothering him with their concern.
He still wasn't sure he would be able to handle facing them, but now he had Dean tagging along and he knew Dean would keep him grounded if it came to that. It was funny how much he'd come to rely on Dean in the few scant weeks that they'd known each other. Somehow it felt like Dean might be the one person in the world who understood him best, but maybe that was just because they were both in on the big secret now that the things from his nightmares was real. It didn't really matter and after the happenings of Gladstone, his feelings for Dean was a subject he didn't exactly want to look closer at.
Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven was playing and Sam turned to watch Dean as the guitar solo came on and Dean, hands only lightly holding the wheel, began to drum along with it, making Sam smirk.
He was very grateful that Dean had come into his life, he couldn't imagine going through all of this alone and wondered how Dean had survived it so long. When Dean caught Sam looking at him he gave him an apologetic look and turned the music down. "Your head still hurting?"
"Less," Sam told him, smiling at him. "So what are the chances that we both lived in the same town?"
Dean shrugged and looked back at the road. "I dunno. I only lived there ‘til I was four, you must have been a baby at the time. We probably weren't even there at the same time."
"I know, but still, you don't think it's a little weird? I mean, all this crazy stuff happens and we meet up," Sam told him, turning to look at the familiar roads as they neared his aunt and uncle’s house.
"Sammy, are you trying to tell me you think we're meant to be?" Dean asked, sending him a cheeky smile.
"I dunno, it's just strange is all. I hope she's okay," he said, leaning his head back against the headrest as they pulled into Sam's family's driveway.
It was a fairly big house and it already had two cars in the drive. Sam felt a sense of dread as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door. "Listen, just try not to... flirt with my aunt... or my uncle," he told Dean who seemed to find that idea funny. "Or my Grandma."
Dean laughed. "No flirting with the inlaws... I get it."
Sam gave him a stern look. "And you know maybe... less... flirting with me."
"You just want to suck the fun out of my life don't you?"
"I didn't say you couldn't," Sam defended himself, mostly because he couldn't imagine Dean really living up to that promise. "Just be less obvious about it. They don't know anything about me being..."
"Gay?" Dean asked. "I didn't think you were. In fact I recall you telling me that you weren't even close."
"I don't know what I mean. Okay? I just... Fuck it," Sam said reaching for the doorbell.
Dean stopped him with a hand to his arm. "As much as it pains me to say this... The stuff that happened back in Gladstone... I know it's fucking with your mind, but don't read too much into it. You were under a spell and when you remember the things you felt about me... It's like hallucinations, Sam. Don't let it get to you, ‘cause I know you’re beating yourself up about it."
"I'm not," Sam lied, freeing his arm and pressing the doorbell.
In a way, Dean saying what he just had said was incredibly noble of him, yet another thing showing that despite all his attitude he really was a good guy. But it also pissed Sam off because he was reducing that thing they shared for a few hours to nothing. Thinking about it put him back in that uncomfortable place he didn't want to be though, so he pushed the thoughts away and pressed the doorbell again.
When the door opened a woman in her mid forties stood there with her arms out wide, ready to embrace Sam. She was tall, had short brown hair and eyes very similar to Sam's.
"Sam," she said, holding him tight against her. "It's been too long baby."
Sam smiled and let himself relax into the hug, his earlier fears that this would feel strange now were quickly dispelled. "Aunt Rosemary, this is my friend Dean. He's the one I'm traveling with."
She looked past Sam to the grinning man behind him, who waved at her. "Dean, welcome. You're staying with us, yes? I'll get David to set up a cot on the floor of your room, Sam. God it's good to see you," she said before hugging him again.
She led them both through to the kitchen, which was modern and light and filled with chrome. "Aunt Rosie's a lawyer," Sam told him. "I guess it's in the blood huh?"
Dean nodded tersely and looked around the spacious room while Rosemary stuck her head out of the French doors to call for her husband, who was out in their greener than green garden, reading the newspaper on the patio.
"Sam?" David said as he came back inside and shook his nephew's hand. "I'm so sorry about what happened to Jess," he said sincerely but Sam just wanted to change the subject quickly. "We sent you some things but they told us you'd taken off without telling anyone where you were going."
"I emailed," Sam said lamely. "I just..."
"It was my fault," Dean butted in, coming to his rescue again. "I kinda kidnapped him," he said with a laugh, only for everyone to just stare at him like he was strange. "So how's your mom?" he asked Rosemary.
"Oh, she's had better days," the brunette answered, looking down at her hands. "Sam you should prepare yourself, she barely even realizes we’re there anymore."
Sam nodded, looking down as well. He wasn't sure he could face seeing her. It had been bad enough when she didn't recognize him, going on and on about unimportant things like birds or the color blue. At least then she'd still looked herself, had her voice and if he'd closed his eyes he could pretend she was still the same person he remembered from just a few years back; talking about all and nothing the way she usually did when she just wanted to let Sam know she was around. One of Sam's first memories was of his grandma walking around the nursery just talking. Not quite to him and not quite to herself, like a steady monologue of things that went through her head for both of their pleasure. All his childhood her voice had kept him grounded, giving him a sense of direction and roots.
When Sam's best friend had died in a car accident, he had refused to speak for days, grieving the closest friend he'd ever had. His grandma had never pushed him then, never tried to make him talk, or asked him questions. She'd just puttered around the house, chatting amiably with furniture and paintings, letting Sam know she was still there and he missed that so much. Maybe that was why he'd taken to Dean so quickly because damn Dean was a talker and if Sam didn't play along, he talked anyway. Sometimes Sam wondered if he'd always been like that, or if it was just the novelty if company that had his mouth going. Not that Dean couldn't do silent, he could be surprisingly close mouthed when it came to certain things and if he wasn't in the mood there was no use in even trying to talk to him.
"Maybe you boys would like to go upstairs. You know unpack and stuff," Rosemary said, pulling herself together. "And we'll have dinner when you're ready. I'll tell David to bring the cot up."
"Okay," Sam said with a grateful smile. "We'll be right down."
Sam led the way up the stairs, but half way up Dean stopped him with a hand to his arm and a grin on his face. He made a shushing sound and pointed downwards, back towards the kitchen. Sam frowned, looking down at him and then his eyes grew wide. He could clearly hear Rosemary and David speaking in the kitchen and now he knew why Dean was grinning.
"But Rosie... You actually told them I'd bring up a cot? I bet you made Sammy feel uncomfortable. I mean... Isn't it kinda obvious they're an item?"
"You mean Sam is..."
"It's exactly what I mean. You can't tell me you haven't thought it too."
"Well, maybe... But now?"
"Why not? He was in need of comfort, Dean was there for him... You know how those things go. Heck, if you hadn't turned to me when your sister died we probably wouldn't have been married today."
"You better bring the cot up anyway David. Sam doesn't seem ready to tell us yet, he will in due time I'm sure."
Sam glared at Dean who was shaking with silent laughter, tears streaming down his face. "Not a word," he ground out through his teeth and pointed upwards. He wasn't sure Dean would follow him, but he did even though Sam could still hear him hiccupping with laughter. This was going to be one heck of a visit.
Once inside the bedroom that Sam knew so well he went and opened the wardrobe. "It's only been a few weeks but already I'd forgotten how nice it is to hang your clothes up, rather than live out of a bag."
Dean smiled at him and lay down on the floral bedspread, stretching himself out with a sigh. The sheets were soft and fresh and he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in a real bed, and not the imitation ones the motels provided. "Oh man, I love this bed."
Sam turned and smiled at him. “I used to sleep in this room all the time. They don't have any kids of their own, I used to stay on weekends, give my Grandma a break." He stared out of the door at the room opposite theirs for a moment. "Listen, you take the bed, I'll take the cot. I'm gonna go see my Grandma.”
Dean nodded and sat up again. "Hey, not to sound like a total woman or anything, but if this whole things gets too much for you, if you're feeling... upset... you can take it out on me. I won't hit you, just while we're here mind," Dean told him with a mixture of embarrassment and humor.
Sam smiled at him gratefully and nodded, determined that he would finally get Dean's family's story out of him before they left this place.
He walked the short distance to the other bedroom and knocked, knowing that his Grandma wouldn't even hear it but remembering his manners, the manners that she had taught him. He opened the door and walked into the dark room, frowning to see that the curtains were drawn when it was such a lovely day outside.
"Grandma?" he asked tentatively as he moved closer to the familiar stranger in the chair. She didn't even look up at him, just stared at the wall, her eyes flickering close every so often. There was a radio on, playing the old music that she used to make him dance with her too and suddenly it became too much. He crouched down in front of her, feeling tears fall down his cheeks as took her hand.
"Hey grandma, it's Sam," he said softly.
She didn't even look at him, her eyes kept wandering the room, back and forth, back and forth.
"I know I've been away for a while," he whispered, biting his lip. "But... I really missed you."
She didn't respond and the hand in his was lax, like she hadn't even noticed he was holding it. Sam got up to his feet and wiped his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. This was worse than he'd expected. When he'd last seen her at least she'd reacted to stimuli and she'd talked to him even though she thought he was some guy she'd met on a bus some thirty years back. Now she was just gone. Blinking away tears he walked over to the windows and pulled the curtains apart. She reacted to that at least, hissing and covering her eyes with her hands. Sam frowned at her and quickly pulled them close again. She stayed frozen with her hands over her eyes for a few moments before her hands fell back down onto the arms of the chair and her eyes resumed their relentless pacing. Unable to watch her any longer, Sam turned on his heel and went back to his old room.
He walked into his room and over to the window, looking out over the street. Dean watched him from the bed for a moment before getting up and going to him. "Hey, you wanna hit me?"
Sam turned and looked at him, sniffing back the tears and shaking his head. "I'm not angry... I feel helpless."
Dean frowned and looked out over the street, like something out of Stepford Homes. "Feeling helpless pisses the hell outa me."
Sam looked at Dean's face for a moment, wondering how he couldn't have seen the real him the first time round. He snorted to himself, thinking maybe he was under another curse.
He leaned into Dean and let the older man put his arm around him. "I wanna know about you, Dean. I wanna know about your family and why you do what you do."
Dean turned his head and looked at him. "I thought this was about your family," he said.
Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck and shook his head mutely. "It's about family, period."
Dean's arms came up around him, hugging him tight and Sam allowed himself to cling to Dean for a few moments. "You always have to be strong for me," Sam murmured, ashamed of his own weakness.
"I'm..." Whatever Dean was about to say was interrupted by David opening the door. Sam jumped almost a foot backwards, his face turning beet red.
"Um..." David said. "Maybe you don't want this." He gestured at the cot resting against his thigh.
"No, it's fine," Dean said, helping David move the cot into the room. "We really are just friends."
David smiled. "You can tell me what you want, but I'll never believe you are just friends."
Dean laughed at that. "No maybe not," he said, glancing at Sam, who was still looking pale and acutely uncomfortable. "But we're not lovers."
David nodded, looking thoughtful. "I believe you," he said, but Dean didn't think he really did. Heck he wasn't even sure he believed himself. Of course he knew that they were not lovers, but they certainly weren’t just friends either. He found himself acting in strange ways around Sam, had anyone told him a few weeks before he met Sam that he'd actually let a guy cry against his shoulder, he'd probably have hit them. What was even weirder was that he didn't think less of Sam because of it. The guy had had his life ripped apart and it was steadily getting worse. He was allowed a few tears, or a lot.
"Hey, uncle David, does she respond at all?" Sam asked, crossing the room over to where the other man was setting up the cot.
David looked up at him uncomfortably. "No, Sammy. I'm sorry. She's been getting worse and worse and then about three weeks ago she became almost catatonic."
Sam frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Three weeks? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well we were going to, but it was just after Jess died and then you took off... not that we blame you for that, you're young, I'm glad you're taking some time off."
"What does her doctor say?" Dean asked, sitting down on the bed. He felt a little like he was intruding on something but it was almost as if he knew what Sam wanted to know and was asking for him.
"Well they aren't sure. They thought maybe she'd had a stroke but her brain waves are... well he said they're the same as someone who's dreaming," David told them.
Dean frowned at that but didn't say anything.
"You should go up to the attic while you're here, there's a bunch of photos of you and your mom," David said brightly, changing the subject. "We moved all your Grandma's knic knacs up there when she came to live with us." With that he left them alone again.
TBC
Authors: sasskitten and jeyhawk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: A vision brings Sam and Dean back to Lawrence, Kansas and they learn a few things about family and what they are to each other.
Disclaimer: We don’t own Supernatural, we make no money from it, it’s just for fun.
Note: This follows directly from The Journey: Love Sick. The Journey is an ongoing series written in 'episodes' of about five chapters. So every five chapters or so it will change its nameaccording to the new adventure they are setting out on. Just wanted to let you all know.
All the earlier parts can be found here.
Chapter One
The trip to Lawrence took them two days, Dean was all in favor of driving straight through, but when he'd been behind the wheel for 18 hours straight Sam made him pull up at the first motel they saw. He'd been as freaked out as Dean by his weird vision, where he'd seen his grandmother surrounded by a black cloud that he felt was sucking her life away, but he'd called his aunt who'd told him that his grandmother was still staying strong. She's been overjoyed to hear from him and he'd felt a stab of guilt for just turning his back on his family. He'd sent them an email saying not to worry after he left Stanford but that was the only contact he'd had with them since Jessica's death. They were his family and he loved them, but he'd had to get away from everyone smothering him with their concern.
He still wasn't sure he would be able to handle facing them, but now he had Dean tagging along and he knew Dean would keep him grounded if it came to that. It was funny how much he'd come to rely on Dean in the few scant weeks that they'd known each other. Somehow it felt like Dean might be the one person in the world who understood him best, but maybe that was just because they were both in on the big secret now that the things from his nightmares was real. It didn't really matter and after the happenings of Gladstone, his feelings for Dean was a subject he didn't exactly want to look closer at.
Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven was playing and Sam turned to watch Dean as the guitar solo came on and Dean, hands only lightly holding the wheel, began to drum along with it, making Sam smirk.
He was very grateful that Dean had come into his life, he couldn't imagine going through all of this alone and wondered how Dean had survived it so long. When Dean caught Sam looking at him he gave him an apologetic look and turned the music down. "Your head still hurting?"
"Less," Sam told him, smiling at him. "So what are the chances that we both lived in the same town?"
Dean shrugged and looked back at the road. "I dunno. I only lived there ‘til I was four, you must have been a baby at the time. We probably weren't even there at the same time."
"I know, but still, you don't think it's a little weird? I mean, all this crazy stuff happens and we meet up," Sam told him, turning to look at the familiar roads as they neared his aunt and uncle’s house.
"Sammy, are you trying to tell me you think we're meant to be?" Dean asked, sending him a cheeky smile.
"I dunno, it's just strange is all. I hope she's okay," he said, leaning his head back against the headrest as they pulled into Sam's family's driveway.
It was a fairly big house and it already had two cars in the drive. Sam felt a sense of dread as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door. "Listen, just try not to... flirt with my aunt... or my uncle," he told Dean who seemed to find that idea funny. "Or my Grandma."
Dean laughed. "No flirting with the inlaws... I get it."
Sam gave him a stern look. "And you know maybe... less... flirting with me."
"You just want to suck the fun out of my life don't you?"
"I didn't say you couldn't," Sam defended himself, mostly because he couldn't imagine Dean really living up to that promise. "Just be less obvious about it. They don't know anything about me being..."
"Gay?" Dean asked. "I didn't think you were. In fact I recall you telling me that you weren't even close."
"I don't know what I mean. Okay? I just... Fuck it," Sam said reaching for the doorbell.
Dean stopped him with a hand to his arm. "As much as it pains me to say this... The stuff that happened back in Gladstone... I know it's fucking with your mind, but don't read too much into it. You were under a spell and when you remember the things you felt about me... It's like hallucinations, Sam. Don't let it get to you, ‘cause I know you’re beating yourself up about it."
"I'm not," Sam lied, freeing his arm and pressing the doorbell.
In a way, Dean saying what he just had said was incredibly noble of him, yet another thing showing that despite all his attitude he really was a good guy. But it also pissed Sam off because he was reducing that thing they shared for a few hours to nothing. Thinking about it put him back in that uncomfortable place he didn't want to be though, so he pushed the thoughts away and pressed the doorbell again.
When the door opened a woman in her mid forties stood there with her arms out wide, ready to embrace Sam. She was tall, had short brown hair and eyes very similar to Sam's.
"Sam," she said, holding him tight against her. "It's been too long baby."
Sam smiled and let himself relax into the hug, his earlier fears that this would feel strange now were quickly dispelled. "Aunt Rosemary, this is my friend Dean. He's the one I'm traveling with."
She looked past Sam to the grinning man behind him, who waved at her. "Dean, welcome. You're staying with us, yes? I'll get David to set up a cot on the floor of your room, Sam. God it's good to see you," she said before hugging him again.
She led them both through to the kitchen, which was modern and light and filled with chrome. "Aunt Rosie's a lawyer," Sam told him. "I guess it's in the blood huh?"
Dean nodded tersely and looked around the spacious room while Rosemary stuck her head out of the French doors to call for her husband, who was out in their greener than green garden, reading the newspaper on the patio.
"Sam?" David said as he came back inside and shook his nephew's hand. "I'm so sorry about what happened to Jess," he said sincerely but Sam just wanted to change the subject quickly. "We sent you some things but they told us you'd taken off without telling anyone where you were going."
"I emailed," Sam said lamely. "I just..."
"It was my fault," Dean butted in, coming to his rescue again. "I kinda kidnapped him," he said with a laugh, only for everyone to just stare at him like he was strange. "So how's your mom?" he asked Rosemary.
"Oh, she's had better days," the brunette answered, looking down at her hands. "Sam you should prepare yourself, she barely even realizes we’re there anymore."
Sam nodded, looking down as well. He wasn't sure he could face seeing her. It had been bad enough when she didn't recognize him, going on and on about unimportant things like birds or the color blue. At least then she'd still looked herself, had her voice and if he'd closed his eyes he could pretend she was still the same person he remembered from just a few years back; talking about all and nothing the way she usually did when she just wanted to let Sam know she was around. One of Sam's first memories was of his grandma walking around the nursery just talking. Not quite to him and not quite to herself, like a steady monologue of things that went through her head for both of their pleasure. All his childhood her voice had kept him grounded, giving him a sense of direction and roots.
When Sam's best friend had died in a car accident, he had refused to speak for days, grieving the closest friend he'd ever had. His grandma had never pushed him then, never tried to make him talk, or asked him questions. She'd just puttered around the house, chatting amiably with furniture and paintings, letting Sam know she was still there and he missed that so much. Maybe that was why he'd taken to Dean so quickly because damn Dean was a talker and if Sam didn't play along, he talked anyway. Sometimes Sam wondered if he'd always been like that, or if it was just the novelty if company that had his mouth going. Not that Dean couldn't do silent, he could be surprisingly close mouthed when it came to certain things and if he wasn't in the mood there was no use in even trying to talk to him.
"Maybe you boys would like to go upstairs. You know unpack and stuff," Rosemary said, pulling herself together. "And we'll have dinner when you're ready. I'll tell David to bring the cot up."
"Okay," Sam said with a grateful smile. "We'll be right down."
Sam led the way up the stairs, but half way up Dean stopped him with a hand to his arm and a grin on his face. He made a shushing sound and pointed downwards, back towards the kitchen. Sam frowned, looking down at him and then his eyes grew wide. He could clearly hear Rosemary and David speaking in the kitchen and now he knew why Dean was grinning.
"But Rosie... You actually told them I'd bring up a cot? I bet you made Sammy feel uncomfortable. I mean... Isn't it kinda obvious they're an item?"
"You mean Sam is..."
"It's exactly what I mean. You can't tell me you haven't thought it too."
"Well, maybe... But now?"
"Why not? He was in need of comfort, Dean was there for him... You know how those things go. Heck, if you hadn't turned to me when your sister died we probably wouldn't have been married today."
"You better bring the cot up anyway David. Sam doesn't seem ready to tell us yet, he will in due time I'm sure."
Sam glared at Dean who was shaking with silent laughter, tears streaming down his face. "Not a word," he ground out through his teeth and pointed upwards. He wasn't sure Dean would follow him, but he did even though Sam could still hear him hiccupping with laughter. This was going to be one heck of a visit.
Once inside the bedroom that Sam knew so well he went and opened the wardrobe. "It's only been a few weeks but already I'd forgotten how nice it is to hang your clothes up, rather than live out of a bag."
Dean smiled at him and lay down on the floral bedspread, stretching himself out with a sigh. The sheets were soft and fresh and he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in a real bed, and not the imitation ones the motels provided. "Oh man, I love this bed."
Sam turned and smiled at him. “I used to sleep in this room all the time. They don't have any kids of their own, I used to stay on weekends, give my Grandma a break." He stared out of the door at the room opposite theirs for a moment. "Listen, you take the bed, I'll take the cot. I'm gonna go see my Grandma.”
Dean nodded and sat up again. "Hey, not to sound like a total woman or anything, but if this whole things gets too much for you, if you're feeling... upset... you can take it out on me. I won't hit you, just while we're here mind," Dean told him with a mixture of embarrassment and humor.
Sam smiled at him gratefully and nodded, determined that he would finally get Dean's family's story out of him before they left this place.
He walked the short distance to the other bedroom and knocked, knowing that his Grandma wouldn't even hear it but remembering his manners, the manners that she had taught him. He opened the door and walked into the dark room, frowning to see that the curtains were drawn when it was such a lovely day outside.
"Grandma?" he asked tentatively as he moved closer to the familiar stranger in the chair. She didn't even look up at him, just stared at the wall, her eyes flickering close every so often. There was a radio on, playing the old music that she used to make him dance with her too and suddenly it became too much. He crouched down in front of her, feeling tears fall down his cheeks as took her hand.
"Hey grandma, it's Sam," he said softly.
She didn't even look at him, her eyes kept wandering the room, back and forth, back and forth.
"I know I've been away for a while," he whispered, biting his lip. "But... I really missed you."
She didn't respond and the hand in his was lax, like she hadn't even noticed he was holding it. Sam got up to his feet and wiped his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. This was worse than he'd expected. When he'd last seen her at least she'd reacted to stimuli and she'd talked to him even though she thought he was some guy she'd met on a bus some thirty years back. Now she was just gone. Blinking away tears he walked over to the windows and pulled the curtains apart. She reacted to that at least, hissing and covering her eyes with her hands. Sam frowned at her and quickly pulled them close again. She stayed frozen with her hands over her eyes for a few moments before her hands fell back down onto the arms of the chair and her eyes resumed their relentless pacing. Unable to watch her any longer, Sam turned on his heel and went back to his old room.
He walked into his room and over to the window, looking out over the street. Dean watched him from the bed for a moment before getting up and going to him. "Hey, you wanna hit me?"
Sam turned and looked at him, sniffing back the tears and shaking his head. "I'm not angry... I feel helpless."
Dean frowned and looked out over the street, like something out of Stepford Homes. "Feeling helpless pisses the hell outa me."
Sam looked at Dean's face for a moment, wondering how he couldn't have seen the real him the first time round. He snorted to himself, thinking maybe he was under another curse.
He leaned into Dean and let the older man put his arm around him. "I wanna know about you, Dean. I wanna know about your family and why you do what you do."
Dean turned his head and looked at him. "I thought this was about your family," he said.
Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck and shook his head mutely. "It's about family, period."
Dean's arms came up around him, hugging him tight and Sam allowed himself to cling to Dean for a few moments. "You always have to be strong for me," Sam murmured, ashamed of his own weakness.
"I'm..." Whatever Dean was about to say was interrupted by David opening the door. Sam jumped almost a foot backwards, his face turning beet red.
"Um..." David said. "Maybe you don't want this." He gestured at the cot resting against his thigh.
"No, it's fine," Dean said, helping David move the cot into the room. "We really are just friends."
David smiled. "You can tell me what you want, but I'll never believe you are just friends."
Dean laughed at that. "No maybe not," he said, glancing at Sam, who was still looking pale and acutely uncomfortable. "But we're not lovers."
David nodded, looking thoughtful. "I believe you," he said, but Dean didn't think he really did. Heck he wasn't even sure he believed himself. Of course he knew that they were not lovers, but they certainly weren’t just friends either. He found himself acting in strange ways around Sam, had anyone told him a few weeks before he met Sam that he'd actually let a guy cry against his shoulder, he'd probably have hit them. What was even weirder was that he didn't think less of Sam because of it. The guy had had his life ripped apart and it was steadily getting worse. He was allowed a few tears, or a lot.
"Hey, uncle David, does she respond at all?" Sam asked, crossing the room over to where the other man was setting up the cot.
David looked up at him uncomfortably. "No, Sammy. I'm sorry. She's been getting worse and worse and then about three weeks ago she became almost catatonic."
Sam frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Three weeks? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well we were going to, but it was just after Jess died and then you took off... not that we blame you for that, you're young, I'm glad you're taking some time off."
"What does her doctor say?" Dean asked, sitting down on the bed. He felt a little like he was intruding on something but it was almost as if he knew what Sam wanted to know and was asking for him.
"Well they aren't sure. They thought maybe she'd had a stroke but her brain waves are... well he said they're the same as someone who's dreaming," David told them.
Dean frowned at that but didn't say anything.
"You should go up to the attic while you're here, there's a bunch of photos of you and your mom," David said brightly, changing the subject. "We moved all your Grandma's knic knacs up there when she came to live with us." With that he left them alone again.
TBC