Shadows 12
A/N: Hey, guys. Last chapter full of memories. Let me know how you liked it!
- Sam -
John laid sprawled on the living room's carpet, eyes closed but chest rising and falling steadily. Unconscious. Dean shouted for his dad. He ran over the room and fell to his knees, recklessly shoving his shotgun aside. Patting dad's chest looking for the wounds, he failed to notice the pale girl with long raven hair in the corner. She smirked and was behind Dean's back in the blink of an eye.
Dean saw her too late. He reached for his gun, getting in front of John, but he wasn't going to make it. She was faster.
A loud bang saved Dean, drown by angry shrieks of the spirit who had dissolved into thin air. Dean raised his head to see his savior. "What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to stay away from the house. Where's your father?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes, resting John's fallen shotgun over his shoulder. "My old man's waiting anxiously outside like a true hero."
Dean got up and started to search the room, turning over every vase with plants he spotted, not bothering to put them back in place. "Well you should be waiting anxiously like a hero outside with him."
"If I did, you'd be dead."
Dean snorted. "Don't dramatize it."
Jeremy looked angry. The spirit reappeared but Dean was quick this time and shot at it before it could hurt them. He returned to the frantic search through the house, running into the kitchen.
"I think you have some major issues concerning your safety, dude," Jeremy called after him, following.
"You think?" Dean retorted back. He grabbed a blue vase with daisies off the table, turning it upside down. The flowers fell out in a tangle of stems and petals and water cascading on top of them. Dean studied the vase quickly then promptly shoves it away. "Who the hell has so many vases and is not a middle-aged woman living in Stepford, dude!"
The spirit appeared again. This time it was Jeremy who shot at her. "What are you looking for?"
"A vase, obviously," Dean snapped. "Old, ugly vase with blood in the ceramic because Lisie was a witch, and witches are gross and they bleed on weird stuff, and apparently, bleeding on a vase while making, you know-"
"Pottery?"
"Yeah. It's supposed to do magic shit, but then she died and they burned her body and the spirit got trapped here, tied to the vase."
"Try the winter garden," Jeremy said.
Dean stopped looking over the kitchen. "A what?"
"The winter garden, it's over there." Jeremy pointed to the door in the corner of the kitchen, leading out into a big sun lounge with rattan chairs and plants. Lots of them.
"My mom designed it," Jeremy explained softly, "before, well..."
Dean looked at him, and there was a moment of understanding. Pain. It was gone quickly when the spirit reappeared and Dean had to dodge away while Jeremy shot at it. Dean fell onto a small banana plant, toppling it over. At the bottom of the ceramic pot were engraved monograms: L.T.
"So not a vase," Dean muttered. He emptied the pot and threw it over into Jeremy's arms, who awkwardly caught it while holding onto the shotgun with his right hand. The spirit hissed and made a move for him, but Dean dived for his weapon. The girl vanished before he even raised it.
"What do we do with this?" Jeremy asked.
"Burn it."
"Cute." He looked at the pot in his hands. "How?"
Dean shrugged. "We've brought some petrol. It doesn't need to melt, we just need the heat to crack the bond. It should work. "
...
It did, and in the next memory, there was an easy banter. More smiles from Dean. Touches that lasted a little too long from Jeremy. It was amazing to see this open side of Dean. Light-hearted and letting the worries and the past flow away. Like nothing existed besides the now.
Cas was quiet for the whole part, his face blank but eyes tracking every caressing touch of fingers, every hesitant and infinitesimal tug of smile at lips. Sam watched Cas more than he watched the boys, trying to figure the angel out. It was wonder that Cas didn't even notice him, engrossed in the scene.
Then there was another memory, and John said they were moving again. Small Sam threw a fit, slamming with the door. John sighed, exhausted and sank into a dining chair. He put one hand under his chin, supporting his head, and looked at Dean.
"You understand, right?"
Dean nodded. When John reached for a bottle of Jack, Dean stood up and went out into the night. He popped a few pills into his mouth, just like the ones the red-head had given him what felt to Sam like years ago.
Dean dialed a number, and then it was a cut. Then a strange room and oh my God, Sam had to turn around, because even though he knew Dean through and through at least considering the sex life (Dean liked to brag about that a lot, even if he ever only mentioned the girls), he didn't need to see his brother live in action. The noises were enough. And it looked like the boys hadn't even made in bed yet.
"Oh my God," Sam repeated aloud. "Next memory, please, please, please."
"Such a princess," Benny rolled his eyes, but he pointedly turned around as well. "... At least it's consensual," he muttered. Sam glowered at him.
"I'm gonna come back," Dean promised.
"You better," Jeremy said, followed by sounds of kissing, sucking and moaning. Sam was gonna have to bleach his brain or he'd never get these sounds out of his memory disk.
Benny cleared his throat, getting Sam's attention. When he did, the vampire cocked his head in Castiel's direction. Sam dared to shift a little to get a glimpse of his friend.
"Uh, Cas?"
The angel hummed.
"What're you doing, buddy?"
Castiel didn't even bother to take his eyes off Dean and Jeremy. "Observation."
"No, that's voyeurisms, and you don't do that."
"The witch said I'd have a chance to figure 'it' out," Cas said cryptically. His face was confronted with a deep frown, like he couldn't decide what to feel. "It feels like I'm figuring it out."
"By watching-" Sam cut himself off. "Never mind, I don't think I wanna know." He looked at Benny who smirked, so amazingly unhelpful. No surprise there.
"At least he's got a hobby," the vampire remarked, then thank God, the memory changed.
...
There were more moments of a life tangled with Jeremy. In fact, the boy was everywhere. When Dean was sitting at a table dining with Sammy and dad, he was texting under the table to Jeremy, smiling. At dad's inquiring eyebrow, he flushed (actually freaking flushed) and excused himself. When Dean wasn't appearing at Jeremy's door, driving hours just to see him, or vice versa when Jeremy wasn't sneaking into a motel room when John was on a solo hunt and Sammy elsewhere, they called, they texted, they stayed in touch. Every day and waking hour it seemed, they would randomly check in.
It was all sickeningly sweet. And even though Sam was starting to get twitchy and anxious (because this was taking too long, the memories were only piling up more and more and Cas still hadn't figured out how to make a contact with Dean and Sam really needed to see and touch the real Dean), it warmed him inside.
It made Sam remember him and Jess, and that hurt, but it was the kind of hurt patched up from good memories, late nights lying together in bed in entwined limbs, of tickles and barely there touches just to rile the other up. Sam was glad Dean had this, for however long it could last, because nothing with his brother was ever that easy. He had a power to create problems where there weren't any, not really.
Benny let out a frustrated breath. "Not that I'm not enjoying the Mary Sue turn around, but how much more?"
Sam looked at Castiel, who was reaching out with his fingers unconsciously to Dean, where the boy was sprawled graciously on a bed, his most probably naked body hidden beneath velvet covers, looking for all like the beginning (or end?) of a porn scene.
"Cas seems to be enjoying himself," Sam commented, no emotion behind the words. He'd decided to stop being surprised (or weirded out) by Castiel's strange behavior after they'd watched Dean lick sauce off Jeremy's finger (and wasn't that just what Sam needed to finish off his last brain cells to die of embarrassment). Cas brought his hand up to his face. He looked at Dean, then at his fingers, then at Dean again. Then his eyes widened slightly.
Benny snorted. "Not the point here, though."
"There's no point to make, really."
"I think I can do it," Cas said suddenly.
Sam frowned at him. "You can do what?"
"I think I'll be able to connect with Dean and maybe even help him wake up."
"Oh," was all Sam managed. Because-
"Why in the holy hell didn't you tell us before?" Benny snapped.
Cas looked at him with the kind of condemnation only he was able to pull off. "I told you I was trying to reach Dean."
"But you said it didn't work," Sam reminded him.
"Not then, but I-" Cas paused. There was something he wasn't telling them, didn't want to tell them. "It's hard to explain. The bond has been there from the beginning but to attempt to communicate on such a delicate level needs... more. It needs to touch deeper, go farther. It needs-"
"You to be open," Benny said, eyes sad.
Cas nodded.
Sam looked between them. He was missing a vital part. "What's changed from then?" Turning to Dean, he tried to see what Castiel saw. Not his elder brother doing embarrassing things like sucking fingers, receiving small pecks on a nose or having what couldn't be described as nothing else but an honest to God pillow fight.
Sam tried to imagine being an angel for so long, devoid of emotions. A perfect soldier. He imagined being confused by every little random thing that humans did without giving a second thought.
The witch told Cas to observe, in order to settle his confused heart, and to search the answers in the memories. These memories which among else had come to show the rawest face of humanity in the most basic form-love.
Every little touch, every gentle smile would visualize what words could never be able to describe and what eyes couldn't see from afar. Because observing humans through a protective glass is much different than to witness and be right there to discover the gorgeous potential.
To fight along the humans side by side, watch them argue and despair, laugh and hope from inches away. To really see them.
Then see what you can have.
And Sam knew what had changed. He knew with a certainty he rarely felt, and he looked at Cas, Dean's angelic Cas, for the first time wholly and completely, and it took his breath away.
"Cas..."
Castiel turned his head away. Maybe he felt guilty? And maybe he should, because he was an angel, and he'd let Dean down too, and this could in no possible way end happily ever after.
"What the fuck, D?"
Sam startled when Jeremy burst into the room, making a beeline for the bed. Dean propped up on his elbows, the sheets falling slightly down, revealing purple dots scattered all over his skin.
“Gotta be more specific, J,” he drawled mockingly with a grin, “everything with you is a ‘fucking problem’.”
Jeremy’s stormy expression changed into fond exasperation. He rolled his eyes and climbed into the bed to kiss Dean. Sam averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up. He did so while noticing the fire dancing in Castiel's eyes. How could he have missed it before?
Jeremy put a small book onto Dean's lap. “Explain this to me.”
Dean moaned at the loss of Jeremy’s mouth, sending more heat to redden Sam’s cheeks. Dean glanced briefly at the book in his lap then back up.
“No lies,” Jeremy warned.
Dean sighed. “I couldn’t sleep yesterday so... I rummaged through your bookcase, took this out and filled it up… I’m sorry. I can get you a new one if you w-“
Jeremy cut him off with another kiss, this time more urgent, laying an invisible claim. “I’m not mad, baby. I’m amazed,” he breathed.
Dean looked confused, lost. Sam walked around the bed to take a better look at the book. “It’s an IQ test,” he said to Cas and Benny.
“Why?” Dean asked cautiously, possibly afraid Jeremy was making fun of him. Sam blamed himself for putting that edge to Dean’s voice. He’d always teased his brother for not finishing school and for being a technophobe. In fact, he’d mocked him in everything that had something to do with intelligence. It wasn’t that he thought Dean was stupid. He knew Dean was smart. But school was one of the few advantages he had on Dean. Dean had always teased him for being a nerd, for being too high, for being a love loser. So Sam teased back.
He had never realized how fragile Dean’s self-esteem was. He knew Dean had issues the size of Mt. Everest but some were more over the top than he'd suspected. Every word carelessly thrown at Dean had embed itself too deep.
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t check your score?”
Dean shrugged. “What’s the point? I did it outta boredom, no need to see the results.”
“You know, as smart as you are, you can be really stupid sometimes,” Jeremy sighed.
Dean cocked his head. “Enlighten me then, o’ smart one.”
Jeremy’s expression turned serious. “I mean it, D. You are very smart. You could apply for the best universities in states, maybe get a scholarship.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, sure.” Seeing Jeremy’s unwavering expression, he faltered. “Oh come on. Okay, I admit most of the question in the stupid book weren’t so hard to solve, but you’re just being ridiculous. Besides, to apply you need to know shit tons of things about literature and stuff you'll never ever need again.”
"Depends on your field of study," Jeremy said. "But you can learn these things easily. If you want to, you can. It's in you."
Dean shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t change anything.”
Jeremy frowned. “What’d you mean it doesn’t change anything? Of course it fucking does! I’ve always told you how amazing you are. This test just proves me right. You can’t ignore it all your life! You can apply for a university, you can do whatever you damn please… You can move in with me,” he added in a softer voice, after hesitating a bit.
Dean didn’t notice the last suggestion. Of course he didn’t freaking notice.
“I can’t leave dad for school, Jeremy,” Dean replied. “Besides, that’s Sam’s life, not mine. College's the kid’s future. He wants to get away. I know he’ll leave us someday.” He said it like it was painful to force the words through his throat. “When that happens, dad’s gonna be devastated. I can’t leave him too. Someone's gotta take care of him.”
Stupid Dean, putting others before himself.
Jeremy clenched his teeth. “That’s your old man’s problem, not yours. He’s been dragging you all over the states since you were fucking four years old. For revenge! Not caring about you. He must know you can’t stay with him forever.”
Sam tensed, knowing what Dean’s reaction was going to be. He’d stepped on this particular mine too many times to forget how easily the protective rage rose within his brother when someone badmouthed his childhood hero.
As predicted, Dean was quick in shoving Jeremy away from him. He got out of the bed and Sam averted his eyes to at least create some sense of privacy as Dean-in his naked glory-started searching furiously for his clothes. “You know nothing about dad and what he’s been through, so shut up,” he spat.
Jeremy rose from the bed. “No, but I know what you’ve been through, and sorry if it pisses you off but I blame them, your supposed family.”
Sam flinched just like Dean did. “Nothing of this is their fault, okay. And you ever say that again and I fucking punch you.”
“Dammit, Dean!” Jeremy stomped over to Sam’s brother, who was furiously buttoning up his shirt, hands trembling. “You know I’m right!” He caught Dean’s hands in a vice grip, stilling all moves. “And when Sam leaves you, it won’t be your goddamn father who’s gonna be devastated. It’s gonna be you. It will fucking destroy you and you know it.”
Dean glared at his restricted hands then back up at Jeremy. “Let go off me.”
Jeremy squeezed him tighter. “No.”
Dean struggled-furious and uncoordinated-and it only served to help Jeremy to get a better hold on him. Remembering some of dad’s lessons, Dean hooked his leg behind Jeremy’s knee and, applying a pressure to the boy’s upper body with his trapped hands, he pushed. Thrown out of balance, Jeremy fell backwards. His grip on Dean didn’t waver and he tugged him down.
Dean kicked out hard, hitting Jeremy in the shin, making him swear. Jeremy tugged where he held Dean’s hands, forcing them to roll over. Dean pushed off the floor, rolling them further than Jeremy intended, and ended up on the top. He tore his hands out of Jeremy’s, trying to scramble up hastily. Jeremy’s arm shot up to him, snatching at his shirt and throwing Dean back down to the floor.
There were no traces of the previous affection Sam had seen, and even though Jeremy seemed to be fighting a little more carefully, he showed no mercy in taming Dean, just as Dean wasn’t afraid to give all he had. Sam stood frozen, uncertain of what to expect. He feared how this was going to end. Nearly all Dean’s experiences with other people so far were bad, horrible, nightmarish, and Sam surprised himself how much he needed this one aspect of his brother’s life to be good for as long as it could. To be something more permanent that Dean would live for.
Now, it looked like nothing more than one of the last blows.
Dean huffed out a breath as his back collided with the floor. He didn’t waste any time. Flipping over onto his stomach, he scrambled up on his legs. His eyes fixed to the nearest exit-door to the living room. Jeremy growled. Springing to his feet, he grabbed for Dean.
Sam scratched at his jeans nervously. He understood from his own experience that making Dean listen sometimes required aggression, and only physical strength got through to him. From the small bits he’d seen so far, he’d come to trust Jeremy. But that didn't mean he'd be able to see someone so violently fight Dean without getting protective.
Dean fell backwards, right into Jeremy’s arms. His efforts to get away doubled. He lashed out with his left hand, partially free, to dislodge the hold. Jeremy grabbed for the hand, catching it. He was bigger than Dean, and momentarily more in control.
“Let go!” Dean cried out furiously.
Jeremy’s knees gave out as Dean grew more aggressive, and they both fell to the floor. “Calm down,” he hissed.
Dean trashed about, arching his back, trying to break free. “Son of a bitch.”
“I said calm down!” Jeremy growled in his ear, making it sound like an order. Unsurprisingly, it worked. It had always worked with Dean. His body stilled. He was panting heavily, both of them were, but they didn't move anymore. They stayed on the floor, calming their racing hearts.
Then a heart-breaking sob wrenched with Dean, frustrated, hurting. Then another one before Dean shook all over, restricted and grounded by Jeremy’s hands. Dean’s head was down and Sam couldn’t see his face. He imagined it streaked with wetness and screwed in pain. His own eyes watered and he blinked the tears furiously away.
Jeremy buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing hard. “Hey, shhh… it’s okay,” he muttered into the skin. Then again and again. Over and over. “It’s gonna be okay... I promise.”
Nobody in the room believed him.
...
Dean spread his arms, laughing freely, in a way Sam had never heard his brother laugh. His toes balanced on a building's ledge. Dean swayed, close to falling. He looked behind himself. The thought of near death made him more ecstatic.
Benny swore loudly.
Jeremy crossed the distance between himself and Dean, reaching out with a shaking hand. “Come here, D.”
Dean shook his head. The breeze was soft and warm, and it played with Dean's disheveled hair, the hem of his shirt fluttering friskily.
“I’m not asking.”
Dean looked dazed. His pupils were dilated, eyes glassy. He'd taken something, Sam was sure. Something more than the pills. "I'm not afraid."
“Tough shit, I am.”
Dean rose on his toes, using arms to balance his body surprisingly elegantly. His smile was wide and delirious. “Y’know why?” he asked.
Jeremy’s fist clenched tightly. He shook his outstretched arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Come down.”
Dean eyed his boyfriend thoughtfully. Jeremy smiled quickly, licking his lips, and took a step forward. "Come down to me. Please."
Dean blinked, finding his lost concentration. “D’you know why?” he repeated forcefully.
Jeremy grabbed for Dean but the boy was faster and stepped aside, losing his balance momentarily. Sam gasped as his brother nearly fell off the ledge.
“Dammit! Stop fucking around and get down!” Jeremy yelled.
Dean made a turn on his right foot. It was a miracle he hadn't fallen down yet. “Nah-ah. You need to ask the question first.”
Jeremy gritted his teeth. “This isn’t funny, D.”
“’course not.” Dean’s eyes sprinkled, giving himself away. He thought it was fun after all. ”Now ask.”
“Will you get down if I ask?”
Dean thought about it. “Maybe.”
“Dean!”
Dean pointed a finger at him with a serious expression. “Ask.”
Jeremy’s jaw clenched. He glanced at the very edge where Dean's toes were balancing. “Why-why aren’t you afraid?”
“Because,” Dean said with a soft smile, “you always catch me.”
He spread his arms and fell backwards.
Sam screwed his eyes shut, heart in his throat. He heard shouting. It was Jeremy's. And Castiel's. Sam knew logically that Dean survived this, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. Images of Dean lying broken on the ground, blood oozing from his body that would look so small from the top of the building, flashed through his mind, Dean’s eyes staring upwards, blank, dead.
No, that was wrong, Sam reminded himself, because Dean was alive.
It was a fight, but he dared to peek through his lashes. When he heard laughter, he shot his eyes wide open. Jeremy was clutching Dean. They were both sprawled on the floor beneath the ledge, safely tucked away from the world. Dean’s eyes were closed, smile on his lips, body relaxed. Sam could have (would have) punched him for taking his life like a freaking joke.
But Jeremy, Jeremy started chuckling together with Dean before bursting out laughing. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, his hands trembled ever so slightly, the only indications of how scared he'd been.
“You… stupid… moron…” he heaved between gulps for air and laughter.
Dean breathed out happily and rolled over onto Jeremy. “Knew it.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow.
“Knew you’d catch me.”
Sam’s heart clenched painfully.
Jeremy took Dean’s hands in his and kissed both his wrists. “Don’t ever do this to me again, you hear me?”
Dean hummed contently. He laid his head on Jeremy’s chest, looking like this was just another day in their lives. And it probably was. They looked perfect for each other, maybe were, but it was broken, consuming and destructive. Like an addiction. It wasn't healthy.
It wasn't meant to work.
chapter eleven