Shadows 11
A/N: Hey guys, two more chapters of memories and then it's back to the world of living. Enjoy ^^
A/N (2): This chapter (and the next) contains Dean/OMC
- Sam -
The motel room they'd appeared in was small but cozy. Sam didn't recognize it, although they had spent most of their lives in and out of hundreds of identical motel rooms. It was to be expected he wouldn’t remember every one of them. Even despite that, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unfamiliarity this place elicited. If he would have had to put money on it, his bet was that he'd never been in this place before.
Teenage Dean was pacing across the room, his hands shaking, tears running down his face, and just like that Sam felt weightless again, like a breeze could knock him down. He wished for a chair to sit on. After the last memories, where Dean had started to talk, Sam hoped against all odds that things were going to head in a better direction. He didn’t know how much more of his brother’s misery he could take to witness.
Castiel’s hand on his shoulder startled him, and Sam's head jerked up. The angel’s eyes sent a clear message. It was not a supporting touch, it meant a warning. Be strong for Dean. Sam nodded, feeling ashamed. Dean had been the one to experience all this so Sam had no right to feel overwhelmed. He had to be brave for his brother.
He tried to skip the memory but nothing changed. It wasn't the time yet, he thought bitterly.
Dean wiped his wet face with the long sleeve of his jacket just as the door burst open and furious John Winchester strode through, slamming the door behind his back with a loud bang. Castiel released Sam’s shoulder. Benny circled John (fangs bared and visible for the world) when dad rounded on Dean. The boy shrank back a little but stood his ground. Not in the act of defiance but from fear of making his father angrier, would the man see any sign of weakness.
John clenched his fists. “Tell me the text was a really bad joke, Dean.”
Dean curled up to himself further, trying not to be too obvious in doing so but failing. “No, sir,” he said quietly. “Sammy's gone… I-I can’t find him. I looked everywhere and… I-I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t know where else to look.” Dean bowed his head, hypnotizing John’s clenched fists through the fans of thick lashes.
Like a slam into a hard wall had realization dawned on Sam. He knew with a horrifying certainty of what this memory was about.
His two weeks of freedom.
“Oh God...” He turned around, hearing John’s yell, “Dammit, Dean!”
The fragile braveness he’d been feeling just moments ago evaporated like an ice cube on a hot summer day. He had felt guilty about the previous memories but this time, he was the one at fault. Whatever was going to happen in this memory was on his head.
“What is it now?” Benny snapped irritably. Sam didn’t want to tell them, really didn’t, but it wouldn’t be right with Dean if he didn't confess. Cas and Benny had to know who was responsible for this mess.
“Where were you when Sam disappeared? You should have been in school with him. You should have watched over him!” John shouted in Dean’s face, and Dean seemed to have problems keeping the tears at bay.
What was it Dean had said to him in Heaven? When dad came home...
“I-I was… I wasn’t…” Dean stuttered.
“I ran away from them," said Sam. "Two weeks… I didn’t think it through. I can-I see that now but then… I just wanted to get a rest from dad, from Dean… I was-“
”A selfish brat,” Benny supplied bitterly, and it wasn't fair. But Sam didn’t have it in him to explain the suffocating feelings and the need to be on his own for just a little while. To release himself from his father's clutches that held them from early childhood. Benny wouldn't understand.
"Spit it out, Dean," John snapped.
"I wasn't in... in sch-"
“You weren’t what?” John shouted, turning red from rage, body shaking with it just like fear was shaking with Dean's. "You weren't where, Dean?!"
Sam screwed up his eyes right before Dean croaked, “In school.” But he still saw the brief flash of dad’s hand shooting up to slap the left side of Dean’s face. Hard.
The room went silent save for the panting and sound of cars pulling out of the parking lot.
Sam waited while seconds ticked by before he finally looked at his father, who was staring at his hand like it didn’t belong to him, and at Dean, holding his cheek, eyes on the floor.
Dad was floored, mouth slightly open. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, clawing his way out of the shock. "Dean, I... I'm-"
Say it, Sam hissed in his head. Say it.
“Take some rest," John told Dean instead, "I’m gonna call Bobby to help me search. You’ve done enough.” With that, he hastily left the room, not any gentler with slamming the door after his back. Dean’s eyes never left the floor.
"Did his penance, eh?" Benny snarled at Cas, who was unmovable like a statue, eyes trained on the closed door.
Dean chose the moment to fall to his knees, body balling on itself, arms around his torso.
Castiel was at Dean’s side before Sam even registered what was happening. He crouched down next to the shaking body. Cas’ hand wavered millimeters above Dean’s hair as if in an attempt to comfort while knowing he wasn't able to. Loud gasps for air wheezed through Dean’s lips, and echoed around the room as Dean started to rock. Back and forth, back and forth.
“A panic attack,” Castiel said simply, like the words wouldn't turn Sam's life upside down.
“What?”
Sam sank to his knees to occupy the other side of his brother. Dean had never mentioned he had panic attacks, and Sam had never seen him have any. But again, Dean hadn’t mentioned a lot of things, and Sam had been more sightless than a blind person.
He watched in horror as Dean struggled helplessly for a breath of air, and his head shot up toward the door where John had vanished, like maybe if he prayed strong enough, their father would come back and help. He would see what they had done to Dean, and he would help his son.
But John didn’t return. Of course he didn't. He'd never been there when it counted. And neither had Sam.
Dean turned red, his fingernails digging into the palms like he was trying to sink through. The rocking stopped. He lowered his head until his brow touched the floor. New tears streamed his face in the effort to fill in his lungs.
"We got to do something," Benny hissed. "We can't just goddamn watch."
"And what do you propose we do?" Cas retorted in a low impatient voice. "There's nothing we can do."
"Don't pull that crap on me. There's got to be something. You're a frigging almighty angel. Do something!"
"I told you there's nothing!" Cas heaved, violently rounding on the vampire. "Don't you think I tried? I tried to take us out without unleashing my powers. I tried to communicate with Dean, and I can't reach him. I tried!"
"Then try harder!"
Sam watched the exchange in stunned silence. To this point, the two had been quite tolerant of each other. But the situation was obviously taking its toll on Castiel's patience just as it was on Sam's emotions and Benny's nerves.
Dean took a shuddering breath. Shallow, but it was a start. He bit down on his lower lip. He was muttering something. Sam leaned down to hear better.
“… find Sammy… have to find Sammy… find Sammy…” Dean repeated the words like a mantra, and they had the desired effect. It was a bitter victory, though. Dean was willing to fight only for Sam, when Sam had let him down so many damn times. Dean did nothing for the sake of himself. Everything in his life was meant for Sam, and Sam had never been there to appreciate it enough.
He thought, 'Ahead.' Desperately, clinging to the word like it'd heal all wounds.
The memory changed, and Sam wasn't sure if to feel relieved or not. More memories meant more suffering. But they also meant one more step toward the real Dean.
...
They were in a bar, with small dance floor and patrons drinking and yelling loudly at each other over the music. Sam coughed out the cigarette smoke, his nose stinging. He hated how real and present the memories seemed to be.
"Try again," Benny ordered Cas through gritted teeth.
"I said-"
"And I said try harder. You can't just give up."
They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment like they were having a silent conversation. Then Cas closed his eyes, expression carefully blank. He stopped moving altogether, looking like a statue, immersed deep into his consciousness. Benny ran a hand through the stubble on his jaw, sighing but seemingly more at ease, now that they were at least actively trying to get out and not just waiting for the end of the ride.
Sam could relate to that. He ordered 'Out' in his mind but, as expected, nothing happened. His eyes flitted over the place, searching for Dean. He found him sitting at the bar, ordering a shot of tequila. The bartender eyed him suspiciously. “You got ID?”
Dean gave him his best glare, looking for all like a teenage brat. He reached into his pocket and showed the man his ID. The bartender raised his eyebrow. He clearly didn't buy the fake but chose not to comment. It was business after all.
He grabbed a glass and poured a clear liquid into it. “Celebrating?” he asked mockingly.
Dean didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Looking over his shoulder at the pool table, he said, “You win more when they think you’re drunk.”
The bartender followed his gaze and shook his head resolutely. “No way in hell am I letting you play them.”
Dean frowned. Sam noted his brother wasn’t used to authorities that weren't his dad or like his dad (hunters, ex-military) ordering him around. “What? You can’t do that.”
The bartender snorted. “Sure I can. This is my business and I can choose who I want to have here and who not. You got ID? Fine by me. I don’t care for the rest but I’m not letting you play pool with those dickheads, drunk out of their asses. You either win and they’re pissed, or you lose and they work you over anyway ‘cause they have a hay for the brain.”
Sam appreciated the genuine concern hidden behind the words. Dean, however, took it as an offence. “You think I can’t take care of myself?”
The bartender leaned closer. “I think I don’t want no problems here. Take it or leave.”
Dean gritted his teeth. Sam thought his brother was about to storm out, but Dean just downed the tequila in one go and handed the empty glass over. “Fine. But give me another one.”
The bartender sighed but complied.
They watched as Dean ordered more and more shots. It looked like his singe goal was to get plastered. It didn't take long, and Dean exited the bar, barely standing. Castiel had meanwhile emerged from the trance. He shook his head, one tiny movement, and Sam's heart sank. He himself had been insistently trying concentrating to get them out, but it was no use.
The situation was absolutely out of their hands.
Cas was the first one to follow Dean tightly behind, breathing down his neck. Considering how the angel reacted to the past memories, he wouldn’t stop playing guardian dog for Sam’s brother in the near future… which, if Sam was to be honest, was a comforting thought.
Speaking of dogs, Benny circled the two of them right after, usurping Dean’s right side for himself. They went through several surfaces and people just to remain by Dean's side. Sam rubbed a hand over his face and went through the bar’s closed door after them.
He wasn't the only one though. A man stepped through and went after Dean without any trace of hesitation or nervousness disturbing his pace. Sam gulped. No… not again. Did Dean wear some kind of big neon sign of invitation that was visible only to creepers?
“Hey, doll face!” the man called. Sam’s stomach twisted, this memory mingling with the other one. The one where-
No, no, can't think about it. Not now.
Dean stumbled then turned around in one swift motion, his feet unsteady. “You talkin' t'me?” he sneered, voice dangerous even despite being obviously slurred, and Sam felt a small pang of hope. Dean seemed more focused even while drunk, more prepared for the world, although with the bitterness that was startlingly familiar. This was how Sam remembered Dean.
The man smirked. “Sure I am.” He stepped closer. Dean rolled his eyes and started walking away. Sam’s insides cringed as Dean turned his back on the stranger. If dad ever saw this… Dean so recklessly dismissing a potential threat... Dean would be so dead.
As his brother rounded the corner, the man easily caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm, pushing him into a narrow, dark street. Dean narrowed his eyes. “You have a-have a death wish?” The threat probably wouldn’t have been something to take lightly, but Dean chose the moment to sway unsteadily and the only thing that kept him upright was the man's hand.
Cas was clenching and unclenching his fists, Benny making low vibrating sound in the back of his throat. The man chuckled. “I watched you. You wanted to play pool,” he said. “Need the money?”
Dean shook off the guy's hand. “I caaan’t see how dat’s any of your f'cking business,” he spat, reaching to the back pocket of his baggy jeans with a hand. Sam was sure Dean had a pocket knife hidden there.
“I will pay you,” the man said, like it was the most natural thing to come out of someone's mouth. Like he was talking about the damn weather. Sam felt ill. What had Dean ever done to deserve all this?
Nothing. He did absolutely nothing, that's what. He was the best thing that ever happened in Sam's and John's lives and what had they done? They'd stomped over him again and again.
Dean stared at the guy for what felt like eternity. Then he started laughing. It was a bitter, wrong kind of laughter that Sam never wanted to hear again. “Da fuck’s-up with-you all?” Dean choked out in between the intakes for breath as he tried to calm down. His hand left the back pocket to wrap around his stomach as he doubled over.
The man closed the remaining distance purposely, but Dean thankfully felt it, and he lifted his head, the laugh dying abruptly on his lips. He took a step back, glaring daggers at the guy; the change in his posture fast and disturbing. “I’m not some f'cking whore.”
The man's eyes bored holes into him. "Hmm... You ever fucked someone without knowing their name?"
The question surprised Sam. And it surprised Dean as well. His mouth opened just a tiny bit. He didn't deny anything though.
The guy grin became a feral smile. "I thought so. You have the look in those pretty eyes. I can just tell."
"What look?" Dean asked, annoyed. His head seemed to be spinning and he had troubles keeping himself from falling down and making bed of the gross alley ground.
The man answered with question. "How many guys have you fucked?"
"Not a fag."
"Never said you were."
Dean contemplated the guy for the longest time. "I don't count'em," he said finally.
It made the man smile, pleased with the progress. "I get it, I really do. You've got this... itch, hm? Need to scratch it."
Dean watched him intently.
"What's the difference, right? I mean, I'm offering you a deal here. It's just business. You scratch that itch and even have money to buy something nice. You have a family, no? You can buy something for them."
The man slowly backed Dean against the wall while he was speaking, crowding him.
“Do something,” Sam urged his brother under his breath. “Punch him. Come on... already hit him. Like dad taught us.”
“Sam…” Castiel warned.
Sam didn’t want to listen. “You don’t understand. Dean won’t let him. I know it looks bad, but he-he’ll kick his ass.”
“Most of what we’ve seen so far had… not ended well,” the angel reminded him with a sad but resigned expression. Sam felt incredibly angry. Didn't Castiel believe that Dean would never-never do something like this? Sure, he had a low self-confidence. Sure he’d been-something horrible... devastating happened to him… but he would never. Never.
Benny sought out his gaze. “The angel’s-“
“Shut the hell up!” Sam yelled. And okay, maybe he overdid it a little. Castiel’s eyes narrowed a friction and Sam had to force himself to level his voice. “Be quiet,” he repeated more calmly. “Be quiet and watch.”
He was sure Dean was going to kick the man's ass. Dean may have been in a bad place, but he'd never give in to the creeper. The fight might have almost evaporated, but there was still the little spark in him. Sam saw it dancing in Dean's eyes, dim and faint, but still there.
"We should maybe ride out this memory on the main street, buddy," Benny said.
"Nothing's gonna happen," Sam hissed stubbornly.
"Sam."
"No, Cas. I just know, okay?"
The man pressed at Dean’s shoulder, pushing him down. For one terrifying moment, Sam could see Dean sliding down the wall.
“Get away from him or I’m fucking calling the cops.”
Sam spun around at the voice. A young guy, maybe a little older than Dean, strode over to them. He was tall, sandy hair, sharp features. Mouth morphed into a thin angry line.
Dean was too out of it to notice anything happening right before his nose. He kept staring ahead at the man, who reacted perfectly calmly.
“Don’t know what you think is happening here, bro. I’m just enjoying alone time with my boyfriend,” he said, petting Dean’s head like he was some dog.
“Take that hand off or I’ll break it, bro,” the stranger gritted out. Sam could have hugged him for helping Dean out of this mess. “I saw you both heading out, separately, pretty boy here too smashed to stand upright, and you wanna bullshit me that it’s consensual?”
Dean blinked, hearing offence somewhere in there.
The guy drew away from Dean finally, holding his palms up. “Okay, man, chill out. We were just having fun, that's all.” He was retrieving, though, and Sam was able to exhale. “I’m going, see?” With that, the guy turned around and left hastily.
The blond didn’t waste any time and hurried to Dean. “Hey, dude, you alright?”
Dean squinted up at him. The wall he was leaning against was the only thing supporting him on his legs. He laughed bitterly. “Oooh, 'm peachy.”
The guy snickered. “What’s your name?”
“Dee-“ Dean stopped himself. He looked around in confusion, like he didn’t have a single clue where he was and what he’s doing there, which may have been actually the case. “Who’re you again?”
“Someone who helped your sorry ass, D.”
Dean tried to muster his best glare but he was drunk and confused, and it mostly came out as a pout. “Well, no-no'ne asked you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“S’riously, man, go ‘way.” It was followed by another glare/pout.
The guy’s corners tilted up in amusement. “After you show me you’re able to stand on your own.”
“Dat’s what it takes?”
A nod.
Sam read the ‘easy as pie’ on Dean’s face, but when his brother pulled away from the wall, his legs gave way and he would crumble unceremoniously down hadn’t it been for the stranger catching him. Dean laughed, head down, hypnotizing his savior's shoes. “My kniiight in f’cking Converse.”
The guy chuckled. “Jeremy’s fine.”
“Don’t care if whoeverthefuckheis s’fine.”
“No, I’m-never mind, come on, let’s get going.”
Dean’s head lolled to the side on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Where?”
“My castle.”
A choked sound escaped Dean’s throat, something between laughter and a sob. “'s my happy day..."
...
In the next memory, Dean was standing in front of the sink in a huge bathroom. Everything in the room was new and polished, clean and perfect.
"Where is this place?" Cas asked.
"I have no idea."
Dean splashed water on his face, rubbing furiously. His hands traveled to his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration, making them wet and spiky.
The door opened and Dean whipped around. He was breathing heavily. It was obvious he was trying hard to keep himself together and it cost him every last ounce of energy he had left. Dean on the verge of losing it was a defiant and aggressive Dean, so when Jeremy stepped inside the room and closed the door behind his back, Dean slammed him against it.
Sam felt like they had missed some huge part of what had happened. This was out of context, and he hoped it meant the memories were going to flick quicker. He needed his Dean.
“You tell my father anything and you’ll wish you were never born.” The threat may have worked if it wasn’t weakened by Dean’s shaking hands and scared, wide eyes.
Jeremy felt the same way. “Oh yeah? And what're you gonna do to me, huh?”
Dean recognized the taunting in his voice. And he didn't like it. “What about I cut your balls off and feed them to you? That still funny?”
Benny coughed like he was trying to cover laughter at some private joke. Maybe he’d heard Dean use this threat at some point. Maybe it had been aimed at him. Sam wouldn't be surprised.
Jeremy smirked, unfazed. “Not especially.” He shoved at Dean unexpectedly and flipped their positions in one neat move. It was rather impressive. “Kinda kinky though.”
Dean didn't seem much affected by the flip of dynamics. “One more move and I'll break your teeth in,” he hissed, shoving Jeremy in the chest. It was more due to Jeremy's compliance rather than Dean's power behind the push that the boy stepped back.
"Why did you leave? I woke up and thought that me rescuing your ungrateful sassy ass was just a dream," Jeremy said in much softer voice.
"I didn't ask for your help," Dean replied. "And I didn't need any."
Jeremy huffed out in exasperation. "Right."
Dean glared some more. He decided to change the topic. "Do you know why we're here?"
"You and your old man?"
Dean waited.
"Yeah, I-I know... I know about ghosts and whatever the hell else is out there. I saw our Samara at night in the kitchen. She just stood there, creepily staring at me like it was normal. And then she just vanished. So I did some research, asked the right people. It was me who talked my father into inviting a couple of-hunters, you call it?-here." Jeremy chuckled. "Imagine my surprise when it was you who appeared on the doorstep."
Dean didn't look much amused. "We hunt the spirit down, then I'm out of here. You tell my father anything I'll gut you, you hear me?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you feed me my own balls. Heard you the first time. But you know what?" He reached out with his hand. Dean flinched with a grimace when fingers touched his face, but otherwise he didn't move.
"I saved your ass," Jeremy said, "took you home and took care of you. And I've never done that before. There was just... something in you.” His thumb skimmed over Dean's cheekbone. Surprisingly, Dean continued to let the boy get away with touching him. “I thought I'd never see you again. But now you're here, as improbable as that is. And you can think I'm an idiot, but d'you know what I call this? A fate.”
"Nothing like fate exists," Dean said with irritation.
"Hmm..." Jeremy hummed, fingers tracing the freckles on Dean's fair skin. "But even if. Determination does exist." He let his hand fall down and took a small step back with a grin. "I like you. You've got this little spark inside. And I'm not letting you go. I want to watch it flare."
chapter ten