Work Text:
“So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean.” Sam asked, taking Dean’s line of vision off of Bobby’s car.
Dean cocked a grin “Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?”
Sam kept his face neutral, fighting the urge to smile at Dean’s antics, “Seriously.”
Dean looked up at Sam fondly, but that was a mistake. For only a second he saw his greatest fear, Sammy’s eyes, they were yellow. He kept his composure.
“Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me.”
Later in the hotel room, Dean sat on his motel bed alone. The only thing he could hear besides his own thoughts was the shower in the bathroom. He wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself, but he just sat there nursing what must’ve been his 5th beer. He pondered the idea of heading to the liquor store to get something stronger but decided against it, he’d make due with the beer.
The yellow fever was gone, but Dean had to still be feeling the effects of it. He couldn’t deal with the idea that it had been completely gone. Back in that motel room alone while Sam and Bobby were off ganking the son of a bitch that did this to him, the only thing that kept him sane was knowing that it was all in his head. It all had to be in his head. When he looked up and saw his baby brother by the car, staring at him with yellow eyes, it had to be in his head.
He had to be paranoid, right? There’s no way Sam was evil. He was just misguided, he wasn’t a freak. With what Dean saw in that building with Ruby and that exorcism, he could never be sure. He brought the beer to his lips and downed the rest of it, holding the empty bottle to his chest.
“Sammy, why are you doing this to yourself?” He sobbed into his jacket, his tone barely above a whisper. Of course, the other Winchester in the shower couldn’t answer, but it didn’t stop him from asking the question to nobody.
John’s voice, the selfish bastard, echoed in his head, “Save Sam or kill him.” the word kill bouncing off of the confinement of his mind most of all. With everything John had said to him in the past, that was the scariest and most disgusting thing a father could say.
Looking at the bathroom door, Dean couldn’t say that he blamed John for it. He was afraid, much like Dean was. The psychic visions were one thing, but chugging demon blood by the ounce and exorcising demons with his mind was another. Sammy was becoming one of the things that he hunted. For just a split second Dean doubted that what he saw was an illusion.
He threw his bottle at the wall, almost yelling in confusion as he did so. The bottle broke into what had to be at least 40 pieces if not more. His head snapped up at the bathroom door, good thing Sam took lengthy showers, it gave him enough time to clean up. He grabbed the trash bin and started tossing the glass shards in it. Miraculously he didn't cut his hands on it. He heard the shower water stop and he quickly moved the trash bin back to where it was. He headed over to his bed and lied down, pretending to be asleep.
The next day in the Impala, Sam was typing away at his laptop, using that Wi-Fi that he somehow always manages to have. For a moment, Dean considered that it might’ve been one of his freaky abilities. No, that was just paranoia, he pushed the thought away.
Dean parked at a gas station, about to head out of the car to fill her up.
“Hey, Sam?” He asked, hoping he would get Sam to look up at him.
Sam looked up from his laptop, “Yeah, Dean?” He asked with curious eyes. Eyes that were hazel, eyes that could never be yellow.
“You- uh, you want anything from the store?” He stuttered out an answer to Sam’s question a moment later, he was getting good with lying on the spot to Sam. It was a skill he hated having, but Sam had been lying to him too.
Sam thought for a minute, “No thanks, I’m gonna just be looking for cases.” He said offhandedly, looking at what might've been a werewolf case.
Dean grinned, that was his lore reading little brother, his demonic lore reading brother- No, push those thoughts away. Not Sammy, it could never be Sammy.
Dean came out of the store 40 minutes later to Sam giving him a bitch face.
“What? I couldn’t help it that the cashier was hot.” Dean defended. Truth is, he spent that 40 minutes in the gas station washroom with his knees hugged to his chest, uttering exorcism after exorcism to himself. He’d never admit that to Sam, though.
“Gross.” Sam claimed with a wince and Dean basically cackled and he passed him a beer that he bought.
Sam dropped as soon as his hands touched it, “Ah- why is it wet?!”
He snorted, “Get your mind out of the gutter Samuel. A lady in the line spilled her giant ass water bottle on half the stuff I grabbed." He claimed, trying not to hyperventilate. He didn't tell Sam that he coated it in holy water, and the fact that Sam dropped it upon touching it was damn near enough to make his heart skip a beat.
Sam picked it up and wiped it with his sweater sleeve, “Well thanks for wiping it off, Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
When Dean was looking away, one thing he didn’t notice was Sam wincing slightly, rubbing the hand that touched the beer bottle.
“Now let’s get the Hell out of Dodge.”
Dean started up the car and started blasting ‘Back in Black’ by AC/DC. Sam groaned in protest but didn’t say anything otherwise. Of course a few Karens at the gas station glared but didn’t confront the two brothers. Dean drove off into the sunset, never looking back at this shitty town.