Broken: Battles, Part 4-- Supernatural, R~ish
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Battles, Part Four; A Broken Sequel (all Broken here
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, Gabe (OMC)/Caleb, Pastor Jim, John, Bobby
Rating: R~ish (this part only)
Word Count: (this part) 2657
Summary: Bobby calls John on his shit, Sam works hard to control himself and Dean worries.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is the fourth part to a possibly three to four five to seven part arc that I will hopefully get finished before my surgery not get finished before my surgery (sorry, I was trying). This is Broken, so there will be memory of rape and torture, these characters are far from whole, though progress has been made. Brother/Brother incest. Vague mention of some D/s.
John stood alone in the bedroom where once his boys had slept. If he closed his eyes he could almost see them there on the bed, Dean curled protectively around his brother, despite the fact that Dean was just as broken as Sam. Maybe more so in many ways.
That had been before he knew what Sam was, before the exorcism John had hoped would relieve his overwhelming guilt. Sam had been close to taking his own life. Now John had to wonder if maybe that wouldn’t have been the better option.
His phone rang and he jumped, reaching for it and silencing it without answering. It was only Dean again, wanting to know if he was okay. John didn’t know how to answer that question, so he chose not to answer.
Slowly, he moved over to the bed, sinking onto it as if in pain. He should be in pain, physical pain to match the emotional pain. This was his fault. He’d been a lousy father, dragging those boys all over the country. Shoving them together in the back seat of a car or the cramped quarters of some motel, never realizing what he was doing to them.
Never knowing what evil was lurking inside Sam.
“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Bobby’s voice said. There was a heavy thud on the bed beside him and John looked, finding his journal there.
“What do you think-“
“No. You don’t get to play all hurt and wounded, John. Not this time. Someone had to figure out what was going on it that thick skull of yours.”
John reached for the journal, pulled it to him. “Bobby-“
“Demons lie.”
He looked up at his friend. He knew that of course. He knew that. But he’d seen Sam. Seen what he would become. “Sam-“
Bobby hit him. Hard. A solid right fist to the jaw.
“Sam is out there fighting for his life. And if the things that happened to him weren’t bad enough, he has all of this other shit to deal with, the psychic shit and people trying to kill him and a goddamn demon who wants to use him, and a brother he’s trying to protect. Any normal person would have folded a year ago, John. And you’re sitting in the dark with your thumb up your ass contemplating--“ He gestured at the journal.
“I wasn’t planning on killing him.” John said softly, rubbing at his jaw. He had, in fact considered it…but deep down he knew he never could.
Bobby’s eyes were flashing. “That boy of yours is strong, John. If anyone can come through this, he can. But not if the people he loves are hell bent on throwing him to the wolves.”
“You didn’t see what I saw Bobby.” John stood, though he lacked the conviction to go toe to toe with his friend. He scrubbed over his face with one hand. “The power. It’s incredible. If he falls…if he fails…that power falls into the hands of a demon. Not just any demon, the demon. The one that killed Mary.”
Bobby sighed. “I know. I do. But the only way Sam is failing, John, is if we fail him first.” John shook his head and moved away. He wasn’t ready to get hit again. “Your boys still need you.”
John shook his head, feeling the denial run through his whole body. “I’ve done enough-“
Bobby yanked him backwards and John staggered until he had fallen back to the bed. “I just got off the phone with Dean, who was frantic because he hasn’t heard from you in weeks, and Sam’s off learning how to not explode and Jim’s fucking left the church. There are demons gathering and Fae sightings, and if Gabe is to be believed goddamn fucking angels. Get over your goddamn self and your fucking self pity.” Bobby’s face was red and John could only stare up at him.
“Yeah, things suck for you. You got caught being a dickhead and got some angry bear spirit and a fucking demon crammed up your ass and little bits of computer chips sewed into your head. Big fucking deal. Your boys had it worse, and with the information Jim gave them and the stuff Gabe’s put together, the whole fucking thing may come down to them. So suck it up and get your head back in the goddamn game, or so help me John Winchester, I’ll put you down.”
John stared at him. He’d never heard so many words out of Bobby’s mouth at once. He’d seen him this angry, not usually at him. “I don’t know how.” John finally said, looking away and sagging into the mattress. He felt old and brittle.
“You can start by calling Dean.” Bobby said, his face softening. “He’s going crazy out there. Then you can take a shower, shave that shaggy ass face and get your ass down to dinner.”
John nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay. After that, you need to have a sit down with the boys. They’ve got intel you need.”
Sam’s body burned. He could feel Brian pushing him, could feel the sting of the air, the earth solid and yet moving beneath him. He was supposed to be letting them in, not pushing them away, but his instincts were to push.
He took a shallow breath and focused on the earth first, cool and strong, pungent, soft, dark. It was blessed, sanctified by powerful magic. It hid them from the supernatural world that was waiting just outside the sacred space. His hands sank into the dirt and he was solid like the ground, he was strong. It was a part of him.
“Good.” He could hear Brian distantly. He tried for the air next, the wind. It was elusive, sliding away when he would have grasped for it. “Let go. Stop trying.”
Easy for him to say. Sam licked his lips and nodded. Let go. He exhaled and inhaled slowly. The air rushed into him, around him, passed through him. “Much better.”
Brian…the sense of Brian moved in and Sam panted with the exertion. He let go, spreading his arms wide, making space within and without until Brian passed through him without ever getting inside him.
Sam collapsed to the damp ground, panting and sweating as Brian threw a towel at him. “Not bad Winchester. It takes most of you brain-kids months to handle one of those exercises.” He’d learned enough about Brian to know he wasn’t like Sam. His gifts had nothing to do with angels or demons or fae. He was an anomaly, like the others Sam had been searching out, only far more gifted and trained.
Sam nodded wearily, his eyes closed. His skin screamed at the touch of fabric, the grass. His head pounded. His nose was bleeding again. It was dark. Again. He’d lost track of time, but he hadn’t slept, had barely eaten and he felt like he’d been thrashed by a 600 pound Sumo wrestler.
Brian chuckled. “That’s good. It means you’re still alive.”
“Why is it you’re allowed to pry into my head, but I can’t see into yours?” Sam asked, sitting up slowly.
“Because I’ve got secrets to keep, and you’re here to learn.” He lit a cigarette and took a drag from it. “Nothing you have in your head can rival what’s in mine. I don’t need you dragging that shit back up. Took me way too long to lock it down.”
“You don’t know what I’ve got locked down in mine.” Sam said, half in challenge. Not that he wanted to get into a pissing contest with him, but Sam had been off balance since meeting him and it was wearing on him. “Trust me when I say that we’ll both be better off if you don’t pry too deep.”
Brian raised an eyebrow and puffed on his cigarette. “Alright. Let’s explore that for a minute.”
Sam was pulling himself up to standing, but Brian waved him down and came to sit opposite him. “Whatever you got locked up, that where all the rage comes from?”
Sam nodded a little hesitantly. “Yeah, I guess.”
“See, here’s the thing. The demon bit inside you? That’s where it lives. The rage, it’s like a thick juicy steak that never ends for it. Draws strength from it.”
“Which is why I need to control it.”
Brian shook his head with a smile. “That’s what Murphy and his boys want you to think. This isn’t about control. Not really. It’s about embracing who you are.”
Sam frowned at him, shaking his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll kill…everyone.”
“Nah, well…okay, right now, if I let you walk away, you probably would. But it isn’t just about the rage. That’s part of the equation, yes. But the demon isn’t all that you are. You’re angel and Fae too. Embrace them all, let them mesh and meld and even old Yellow Eyes himself won’t be able to touch you.”
“Is that even possible?”
Brian tapped his knee. “It is. And you’re almost there. It’s time to concentrate on letting them out, rather than holding them in.”
“More letting go?” Sam asked.
Brian grinned at him. “Now you’re getting the hang of this. Let’s start with demon boy.”
“Can’t we start with the angel boy?” Sam asked, exhaustion pulling at him.
“Nope, demon is closest to the surface, you have the strongest catalyst for it.”
“Okay, what do I do?”
“Get angry.”
“What?” Sam looked up in confusion as Brian got up and moved, angling Sam away from the path that he presumed went to Brian’s place.
“Close your eyes and open the doors to those things you’ve got locked up. Immerse yourself in them. Let the rage rise and fill you, let it do what it does naturally.”
Sam didn’t think that was a good idea, but he felt Brian shielding himself and stepping back. “Okay. But it isn’t going to be pretty.”
“I’m counting on it.” Brian took another step back as Sam exhaled and pulled inside himself. “Just let it go.”
Fear stabbed at him at the thought. Every time the rage got the better of him, Sam destroyed things. He took a deep breath and thought back to that first time, in the bedroom at Pastor Jim’s. It had come out of him faster than he could control it, faster than he could identify it. Pictures of Ash had sent him reeling back down the halls of memory and landed him in a dark place filled with beatings and rape and helplessness.
Like light creeping through a slowly opening door, images started to come, blood, bruises, flashes of men and cocks; sounds of leather against skin, whimpering, begging.
“Stop trying to control it.” Brian said behind him.
Sam took a deep breath and consciously forced himself to let the images come, let his mind fill with the rage and fury. He squeezed his eyes shut and his hands fisted in the grass under him as it came, a fire raging through him, boiling his blood and when he screamed under the pressure, he felt it lash out, felt it race out of him.
His senses blurred behind the wall of white fury that seemed to go on and on forever. When his body could handle no more, he collapsed backward and briefly passed out.
He woke to the feeling of Brian wiping the blood from his face. Sam pushed him away and sat up, gasping at the sight of the destruction he had caused. Trees were broken, bent at strange angles, twisted…some were little more than kindling on the ground. His head was pounding and his nose was still oozing blood. Sam took the cloth Brian was holding and cleaned himself up.
“How do you feel?”
Sam squinted at him. “My head hurts and I’m exhausted.”
Brian nodded. “Under that.”
Sam had to think about it. He inhaled and considered. He frowned. “More in control, I think?”
Brian smirked and nodded. “You have to accept that it is part of who you are, not something to be exorcised. You hungry? I’ll bet you are. Let’s go get something to eat. When you’ve had some rest, we’ll take a crack at the rest of what you’ve got lurking inside you.”
Dean was ready to go storming up the mountain after Sam. He’d said two days and it had already been three. The only thing keeping him was the fact that alone, Pastor Jim would likely end up dead. This brotherhood of his was damn insistent.
They were in their third motel in three days and Dean was pacing. He didn’t like waiting. His mind flashed to another time he waited, in hiding. He grimaced and shook his head.
“You okay?”
Dean turned away from Jim and went to the window. “Not really. What the fuck is keeping Sam.”
“Actually, I think it’s a good sign, means maybe he’s getting a handle on it.”
“Or that he’s up there in trouble.” Dean said.
“You can’t go up there Dean.”
He sighed explosively and turned to face Jim. “You keep saying that, but you haven’t given me a good reason not to.”
Jim started to respond, but Dean’s cell phone started to dance across the table. He grabbed at it, checking the caller ID. “Sam. It’s Sam.” He opened the phone, biting his lip. “Sam?”
His voice was weak, strained, asking for Dean to come pick him up. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
He pointed at Jim. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”
He swiped the car keys and headed out. Sam was waiting at the diner where he’d left them. Dean peeled out of the motel driveway, thinking that Sam sounded like he was in bad shape.
Sam was sitting out front of the diner when Dean pulled in. His clothes were in tatters and his face pale. When Dean got close enough he could see big black circles under his eyes.
“Sam?”
He smiled weakly and lifted a hand for help getting up. Dean helped him, holding him when Sam’s legs didn’t seem to do the job. “I’m okay…just tired.” Sam said. “Haven’t slept.”
Dean didn’t believe that’s all it was, but he helped Sam into the car. “You look like shit.”
Sam’s head lolled against the seat. “You look good.” His eyes drifted closed as they pulled onto the road. He didn’t move again until Dean had the car stopped outside the motel room door. When his eyes opened, they were unfocused, dazed. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too Sammy. I’ve been climbing out of my skin.” The door to the room opened and Jim peered out. Dean waved him back inside. No telling if they’d been found again. He got out of the car and went to Sam’s side. “Got a bed waiting for you, let’s get you inside.”
Sam leaned heavily on him as he moved them into the room. Dean got him to the bed and eased him down before moving to start taking off his shoes. Sam stirred, his eyes focusing on Jim. “You okay?”
“I should be asking you.” Jim said, coming to sit on the other side of the bed.
“Tired. Achy.”
“Did he help?”
Jim’s hand stroked hair out of Sam’s eyes. “Yeah. Think so. Don’t feel like I’m gonna explode.”
Jim smiled and looked up at Dean. “That’s good Sam.”
Sam nodded and yawned as Dean threw his shoes into the corner. “Wanna tell me why your clothes look like rags?”
Sam yawned again and lifted a hand lazily. “Just had some trouble…better now.”
Dean wanted to be angry, to yell at Sam for leaving him and running off and having trouble, but Sam’s eyes were drooping and as his face relaxed into sleep, it made him look sixteen again, and Dean couldn’t. He just sighed and pulled a blanket up over his brother.
Title: Battles, Part Four; A Broken Sequel (all Broken here
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, Gabe (OMC)/Caleb, Pastor Jim, John, Bobby
Rating: R~ish (this part only)
Word Count: (this part) 2657
Summary: Bobby calls John on his shit, Sam works hard to control himself and Dean worries.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is the fourth part to a possibly three to four five to seven part arc that I will hopefully get finished before my surgery not get finished before my surgery (sorry, I was trying). This is Broken, so there will be memory of rape and torture, these characters are far from whole, though progress has been made. Brother/Brother incest. Vague mention of some D/s.
John stood alone in the bedroom where once his boys had slept. If he closed his eyes he could almost see them there on the bed, Dean curled protectively around his brother, despite the fact that Dean was just as broken as Sam. Maybe more so in many ways.
That had been before he knew what Sam was, before the exorcism John had hoped would relieve his overwhelming guilt. Sam had been close to taking his own life. Now John had to wonder if maybe that wouldn’t have been the better option.
His phone rang and he jumped, reaching for it and silencing it without answering. It was only Dean again, wanting to know if he was okay. John didn’t know how to answer that question, so he chose not to answer.
Slowly, he moved over to the bed, sinking onto it as if in pain. He should be in pain, physical pain to match the emotional pain. This was his fault. He’d been a lousy father, dragging those boys all over the country. Shoving them together in the back seat of a car or the cramped quarters of some motel, never realizing what he was doing to them.
Never knowing what evil was lurking inside Sam.
“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Bobby’s voice said. There was a heavy thud on the bed beside him and John looked, finding his journal there.
“What do you think-“
“No. You don’t get to play all hurt and wounded, John. Not this time. Someone had to figure out what was going on it that thick skull of yours.”
John reached for the journal, pulled it to him. “Bobby-“
“Demons lie.”
He looked up at his friend. He knew that of course. He knew that. But he’d seen Sam. Seen what he would become. “Sam-“
Bobby hit him. Hard. A solid right fist to the jaw.
“Sam is out there fighting for his life. And if the things that happened to him weren’t bad enough, he has all of this other shit to deal with, the psychic shit and people trying to kill him and a goddamn demon who wants to use him, and a brother he’s trying to protect. Any normal person would have folded a year ago, John. And you’re sitting in the dark with your thumb up your ass contemplating--“ He gestured at the journal.
“I wasn’t planning on killing him.” John said softly, rubbing at his jaw. He had, in fact considered it…but deep down he knew he never could.
Bobby’s eyes were flashing. “That boy of yours is strong, John. If anyone can come through this, he can. But not if the people he loves are hell bent on throwing him to the wolves.”
“You didn’t see what I saw Bobby.” John stood, though he lacked the conviction to go toe to toe with his friend. He scrubbed over his face with one hand. “The power. It’s incredible. If he falls…if he fails…that power falls into the hands of a demon. Not just any demon, the demon. The one that killed Mary.”
Bobby sighed. “I know. I do. But the only way Sam is failing, John, is if we fail him first.” John shook his head and moved away. He wasn’t ready to get hit again. “Your boys still need you.”
John shook his head, feeling the denial run through his whole body. “I’ve done enough-“
Bobby yanked him backwards and John staggered until he had fallen back to the bed. “I just got off the phone with Dean, who was frantic because he hasn’t heard from you in weeks, and Sam’s off learning how to not explode and Jim’s fucking left the church. There are demons gathering and Fae sightings, and if Gabe is to be believed goddamn fucking angels. Get over your goddamn self and your fucking self pity.” Bobby’s face was red and John could only stare up at him.
“Yeah, things suck for you. You got caught being a dickhead and got some angry bear spirit and a fucking demon crammed up your ass and little bits of computer chips sewed into your head. Big fucking deal. Your boys had it worse, and with the information Jim gave them and the stuff Gabe’s put together, the whole fucking thing may come down to them. So suck it up and get your head back in the goddamn game, or so help me John Winchester, I’ll put you down.”
John stared at him. He’d never heard so many words out of Bobby’s mouth at once. He’d seen him this angry, not usually at him. “I don’t know how.” John finally said, looking away and sagging into the mattress. He felt old and brittle.
“You can start by calling Dean.” Bobby said, his face softening. “He’s going crazy out there. Then you can take a shower, shave that shaggy ass face and get your ass down to dinner.”
John nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay. After that, you need to have a sit down with the boys. They’ve got intel you need.”
Sam’s body burned. He could feel Brian pushing him, could feel the sting of the air, the earth solid and yet moving beneath him. He was supposed to be letting them in, not pushing them away, but his instincts were to push.
He took a shallow breath and focused on the earth first, cool and strong, pungent, soft, dark. It was blessed, sanctified by powerful magic. It hid them from the supernatural world that was waiting just outside the sacred space. His hands sank into the dirt and he was solid like the ground, he was strong. It was a part of him.
“Good.” He could hear Brian distantly. He tried for the air next, the wind. It was elusive, sliding away when he would have grasped for it. “Let go. Stop trying.”
Easy for him to say. Sam licked his lips and nodded. Let go. He exhaled and inhaled slowly. The air rushed into him, around him, passed through him. “Much better.”
Brian…the sense of Brian moved in and Sam panted with the exertion. He let go, spreading his arms wide, making space within and without until Brian passed through him without ever getting inside him.
Sam collapsed to the damp ground, panting and sweating as Brian threw a towel at him. “Not bad Winchester. It takes most of you brain-kids months to handle one of those exercises.” He’d learned enough about Brian to know he wasn’t like Sam. His gifts had nothing to do with angels or demons or fae. He was an anomaly, like the others Sam had been searching out, only far more gifted and trained.
Sam nodded wearily, his eyes closed. His skin screamed at the touch of fabric, the grass. His head pounded. His nose was bleeding again. It was dark. Again. He’d lost track of time, but he hadn’t slept, had barely eaten and he felt like he’d been thrashed by a 600 pound Sumo wrestler.
Brian chuckled. “That’s good. It means you’re still alive.”
“Why is it you’re allowed to pry into my head, but I can’t see into yours?” Sam asked, sitting up slowly.
“Because I’ve got secrets to keep, and you’re here to learn.” He lit a cigarette and took a drag from it. “Nothing you have in your head can rival what’s in mine. I don’t need you dragging that shit back up. Took me way too long to lock it down.”
“You don’t know what I’ve got locked down in mine.” Sam said, half in challenge. Not that he wanted to get into a pissing contest with him, but Sam had been off balance since meeting him and it was wearing on him. “Trust me when I say that we’ll both be better off if you don’t pry too deep.”
Brian raised an eyebrow and puffed on his cigarette. “Alright. Let’s explore that for a minute.”
Sam was pulling himself up to standing, but Brian waved him down and came to sit opposite him. “Whatever you got locked up, that where all the rage comes from?”
Sam nodded a little hesitantly. “Yeah, I guess.”
“See, here’s the thing. The demon bit inside you? That’s where it lives. The rage, it’s like a thick juicy steak that never ends for it. Draws strength from it.”
“Which is why I need to control it.”
Brian shook his head with a smile. “That’s what Murphy and his boys want you to think. This isn’t about control. Not really. It’s about embracing who you are.”
Sam frowned at him, shaking his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll kill…everyone.”
“Nah, well…okay, right now, if I let you walk away, you probably would. But it isn’t just about the rage. That’s part of the equation, yes. But the demon isn’t all that you are. You’re angel and Fae too. Embrace them all, let them mesh and meld and even old Yellow Eyes himself won’t be able to touch you.”
“Is that even possible?”
Brian tapped his knee. “It is. And you’re almost there. It’s time to concentrate on letting them out, rather than holding them in.”
“More letting go?” Sam asked.
Brian grinned at him. “Now you’re getting the hang of this. Let’s start with demon boy.”
“Can’t we start with the angel boy?” Sam asked, exhaustion pulling at him.
“Nope, demon is closest to the surface, you have the strongest catalyst for it.”
“Okay, what do I do?”
“Get angry.”
“What?” Sam looked up in confusion as Brian got up and moved, angling Sam away from the path that he presumed went to Brian’s place.
“Close your eyes and open the doors to those things you’ve got locked up. Immerse yourself in them. Let the rage rise and fill you, let it do what it does naturally.”
Sam didn’t think that was a good idea, but he felt Brian shielding himself and stepping back. “Okay. But it isn’t going to be pretty.”
“I’m counting on it.” Brian took another step back as Sam exhaled and pulled inside himself. “Just let it go.”
Fear stabbed at him at the thought. Every time the rage got the better of him, Sam destroyed things. He took a deep breath and thought back to that first time, in the bedroom at Pastor Jim’s. It had come out of him faster than he could control it, faster than he could identify it. Pictures of Ash had sent him reeling back down the halls of memory and landed him in a dark place filled with beatings and rape and helplessness.
Like light creeping through a slowly opening door, images started to come, blood, bruises, flashes of men and cocks; sounds of leather against skin, whimpering, begging.
“Stop trying to control it.” Brian said behind him.
Sam took a deep breath and consciously forced himself to let the images come, let his mind fill with the rage and fury. He squeezed his eyes shut and his hands fisted in the grass under him as it came, a fire raging through him, boiling his blood and when he screamed under the pressure, he felt it lash out, felt it race out of him.
His senses blurred behind the wall of white fury that seemed to go on and on forever. When his body could handle no more, he collapsed backward and briefly passed out.
He woke to the feeling of Brian wiping the blood from his face. Sam pushed him away and sat up, gasping at the sight of the destruction he had caused. Trees were broken, bent at strange angles, twisted…some were little more than kindling on the ground. His head was pounding and his nose was still oozing blood. Sam took the cloth Brian was holding and cleaned himself up.
“How do you feel?”
Sam squinted at him. “My head hurts and I’m exhausted.”
Brian nodded. “Under that.”
Sam had to think about it. He inhaled and considered. He frowned. “More in control, I think?”
Brian smirked and nodded. “You have to accept that it is part of who you are, not something to be exorcised. You hungry? I’ll bet you are. Let’s go get something to eat. When you’ve had some rest, we’ll take a crack at the rest of what you’ve got lurking inside you.”
Dean was ready to go storming up the mountain after Sam. He’d said two days and it had already been three. The only thing keeping him was the fact that alone, Pastor Jim would likely end up dead. This brotherhood of his was damn insistent.
They were in their third motel in three days and Dean was pacing. He didn’t like waiting. His mind flashed to another time he waited, in hiding. He grimaced and shook his head.
“You okay?”
Dean turned away from Jim and went to the window. “Not really. What the fuck is keeping Sam.”
“Actually, I think it’s a good sign, means maybe he’s getting a handle on it.”
“Or that he’s up there in trouble.” Dean said.
“You can’t go up there Dean.”
He sighed explosively and turned to face Jim. “You keep saying that, but you haven’t given me a good reason not to.”
Jim started to respond, but Dean’s cell phone started to dance across the table. He grabbed at it, checking the caller ID. “Sam. It’s Sam.” He opened the phone, biting his lip. “Sam?”
His voice was weak, strained, asking for Dean to come pick him up. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
He pointed at Jim. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”
He swiped the car keys and headed out. Sam was waiting at the diner where he’d left them. Dean peeled out of the motel driveway, thinking that Sam sounded like he was in bad shape.
Sam was sitting out front of the diner when Dean pulled in. His clothes were in tatters and his face pale. When Dean got close enough he could see big black circles under his eyes.
“Sam?”
He smiled weakly and lifted a hand for help getting up. Dean helped him, holding him when Sam’s legs didn’t seem to do the job. “I’m okay…just tired.” Sam said. “Haven’t slept.”
Dean didn’t believe that’s all it was, but he helped Sam into the car. “You look like shit.”
Sam’s head lolled against the seat. “You look good.” His eyes drifted closed as they pulled onto the road. He didn’t move again until Dean had the car stopped outside the motel room door. When his eyes opened, they were unfocused, dazed. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too Sammy. I’ve been climbing out of my skin.” The door to the room opened and Jim peered out. Dean waved him back inside. No telling if they’d been found again. He got out of the car and went to Sam’s side. “Got a bed waiting for you, let’s get you inside.”
Sam leaned heavily on him as he moved them into the room. Dean got him to the bed and eased him down before moving to start taking off his shoes. Sam stirred, his eyes focusing on Jim. “You okay?”
“I should be asking you.” Jim said, coming to sit on the other side of the bed.
“Tired. Achy.”
“Did he help?”
Jim’s hand stroked hair out of Sam’s eyes. “Yeah. Think so. Don’t feel like I’m gonna explode.”
Jim smiled and looked up at Dean. “That’s good Sam.”
Sam nodded and yawned as Dean threw his shoes into the corner. “Wanna tell me why your clothes look like rags?”
Sam yawned again and lifted a hand lazily. “Just had some trouble…better now.”
Dean wanted to be angry, to yell at Sam for leaving him and running off and having trouble, but Sam’s eyes were drooping and as his face relaxed into sleep, it made him look sixteen again, and Dean couldn’t. He just sighed and pulled a blanket up over his brother.