Work Text:
TRANSFORM
SAM–
Sometimes it felt like all he had were his regrets. He was so sorry, so damn sorry all the time. Sorry for leaving his brother and father chasing an impossible dream of normal. Sorry for being the person his brother sold his soul for. Sorry he couldn't save Dean from hell. Sorry for choosing Ruby over Dean; anger, righteousness, and power over forgiveness, honesty, and yes weakness, but a weakness that he now knows would have set him free. Sorry for freeing Lucifer, for being his chosen one and sorry that the only way to set that deed right was to leave Dean yet again.
And then he had woken up in the panic room and, after removing an IV and stumbling up Bobby's rickety cellar stairs, he had found Dean looking whole and healthy (not beaten to a pulp) and, God, Bobby alive. He had embraced his family and for once, for the first time in a long time felt only gratitude; peace, not regret.
Of course it hadn't lasted. Hints and clues appeared almost immediately that things weren't as hunky-dory as Dean made them out to be. Bobby wouldn't look him in the eyes and Dean, well; Dean wouldn't stop looking him in the eyes, as if he was looking for something. At first he thought his brother was looking for any sign that Lucifer was still hitching a ride, but when Dean left for San Francisco in search of the dragon killing sword, doubts quickly crept up. Bobby wasn't talking and his brother wasn't there so he did what came naturally. He called for Cas. Then the bottom fell out.
No soul. He had spent a year with no soul. His soul had been in the cage and thanks to Death he couldn't remember either time. Doing his best to keep tears from falling Sam had all but begged Cas to "fill him in on a few of the details". The information Cas gave was sketchy, but enough to have his heart beating wildly in his chest and his stomach turning over, threatening to evacuate the donut he had eaten. He had hunted without a soul, had pulled Dean away from the best life he could imagine for his brother, and for reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom he had tried to kill Bobby. Cas seemed to know more, alluded to an incident with a vampire that had really started to solidify Dean's belief that Sam wasn't right. Cas knew more and wasn't telling Sam, which could only mean it was all kinds of wrong.
And so Sam's old friend regret was back. The only difference this time was that he had no real idea what he was sorry for and couldn't even try to find out because to do so could break the wall in his mind and for Dean's sake he couldn't let that happen. The incident in Hartford had proven that. But how the hell did you atone for crimes you don't remember? The decision he finally came to was that he would be the best he could be for Dean and Bobby. He would be someone they could rely on instead of a problem they needed to fix. It wasn't really working out so well so far. Dean was heartbroken about Lisa and Ben; too tired, too weary to really work up much passion for stopping the 'Mother of All' and Bobby was distrustful and wary around him; seemed barely able to be around him at all. But the one truth Sam had been taught about the universe from his earliest memories was that Winchesters didn't get easy.
BOBBY–
Bobby was bone weary. He really wasn't cut out for fieldwork anymore; was getting too damn old for it. But since the appearance of the Mother of All, things had been beyond crazy. And with the numbers of hunters having been decimated during the lead up to the apocalypse that wasn't, there just wasn't need for benchwarmers. As he listened to the accustomed rumble of Dean Winchester's car, he pinched the bridge of his nose and mentally prepared for the next few days.
He looked out the large front window of his office to watch the boys climb out of the car. 'Not boys,' he reminded himself, 'Men.' But damned if he'd ever say that enough for his heart to get the message. They were his boys.
Sam was stretching his tall frame and then hurrying to grab something from the trunk and backseat before Dean had fully pulled himself from behind the wheel. As the older brother watched there was an unidentifiable look on his face and Bobby pretty much knows that kid backward and forward. Then again he also knows that when it comes to Sam, Dean was in new territory.
He sure the hell knows that he is, because deep down in the darkest corners of himself he has found that he can't grant Sam the one thing he probably needs the most; forgiveness. That deep down dark place seethes with anger and betrayal and the ever-simmering question of why. Why did Sam, even without his soul, want him dead? Yeah Bobby knew that he hadn't wanted to be reunited with his soul and had become as desperate as the robo-version could become, but hell he coulda just left, snuck away, coulda fought it out with Dean. But no, instead he had tried to take Bobby out and the older man will be damned if he can get the image of Sam with the knife poised and eyes cold as ice out of his head. He wishes to hell he could find forgiveness or even understanding, but it ain't there and the stupid wall in the kid's head means he can't fight it out with the youngest Winchester to get to it. So he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and prepares for another hunt where he avoids Sam as much as possible without letting on to Dean that that's what he's doin'.
SAM–
The impala is his home, his safe, and his memory of family both good and bad and Sam kind of doesn't want to leave. He wonders vaguely if you can be an agoraphobe in a car. The world outside just seems so wrong, so terrifying now. A place where he has done despicable things, where he becomes a monster time and again. It's a place where dark memories lay in wait and finally it's a place where he had failed his family so completely it makes a shudder run through his body.
He casts a sidelong look at Dean, who is looking at his phone with something that could only be called longing marring his features. Thinking of Lisa and Ben, Sam knows, and he wishes he could send his brother back to them, make him go. But it's not that simple and to suggest anything would cause Dean more pain. So he takes a deep breath and steals himself for what needs to be done.
"I'll get the stuff. We're not leaving until the morning right?"
Dean's head snaps up and it looks for a moment like he's surprised Sam is there. "Yeah, figured we could use the rest after that drive unless Bobby thinks anyone's at risk. You tired Sammy?"
Cas had told him that during his soulless year he hadn't slept, at all, so he guesses that's why Dean is always checking to make sure he's doing so now. "Yeah, a little. Hope there isn't too much research to do. You don't mind if I go right to bed?" Sam smiled at his brother and did his best to put all his sincerity and his love into it. He had been coming to terms with the fact that if he was happy it made Dean's life easier. And that was all he really wanted right now, to lighten the load for Bobby and his brother. Except Dean didn't look relieved. He looked, well Sam isn't quite sure how to define Dean's expression, but it is the kick he needs to get him out of the damn car.
DEAN–
The openness of Sam's smile had kind of taken his breath away. He had pulled up at Bobby's and couldn't resist the urge to immediately check his phone. Knowing for certain there was no message from either Lisa or Ben didn't in any way restrain his hope that there would be. And then Sam was talking to him, hoping for some sleep which still gave him a little thrill and then his baby brother, his Sammy was smiling at him. Sure it was more than a little forced, but so goddamn open and full of genuine affection that he didn't quite know how to react. And in the moment it took to process all of this Sam was gone, mumbling something about getting the bags and hustling out of the car.
Dean sighed and looked down at his phone again, wishing for a sickening moment he could go back, back to Cold Oak and never make that damn deal. As soon as the thought skittered across his consciousness he recoiled and quickly left the car practically desperate to get Sam back in sight.
BOBBY–
Dean never actually knocked on Bobby's door anymore (which Bobby grumbled about, but actually loved) so when a rap sounded he knew that Sam had made it up the stairs first. Before he got there the door opened revealing the Winchesters.
"...go in, Bobby doesn't mind," Dean was saying to Sam and when he saw him finished, "Right Bobby?"
"Boy, when has it ever mattered what I say. You always end up doing whatever you want." He couldn't help the way his eyes slid to Sam. So much to say and no way to say it.
"Uhm, hi Bobby."
"Sam."
"Do you need help researching or could I maybe, um, well you know how it is traveling with Dean. Drives too fast, same four tapes played too damn loud. I didn't get any sleep."
"I'm a better driver than you, granny. If I'da let you drive more, we'd still be in Minnesota." Dean grumbled.
"No go get some sleep. I don't want my back up tired. If I need anything I can come get your idjit brother." Dammit none of that was what he wanted to say and this wasn't getting any easier.
"I'll have your back Bobby. I won't..."
Bobby stops him with a hand held up. "You should both get some rest. As soon as Rufus gets back to me with some info I'll know exactly what we're up against and we can hit the road."
He walks away without another word. Doesn't want to hear Sam's apology for more reasons than he even understands. How the hell do you apologize for trying to kill someone you said was family? Why should you be apologizing when you sacrificed everything for a world that will never know? How do you apologize for something you have no memory of? Didn't keep Bobby from wanting, wanting Sam to feel guilty or something.
"O..oh. Okay. I'll just..." Sam lets his words taper off nodding at the stairs. He and Dean ascend to the second floor and their shared (though the house has plenty of space) room.
Bobby waits for Rufus' call alone thinking on the whole mess around, through, and back again and comes up with the same useless answer every time. God, how he wishes Dean had not made that damn deal. He has no illusions that the kid's only options after Cold Oak had been to somehow get his brother back or join him. Yeah, Dean would have been dead within a year deal or not, but without the deal Bobby could have mourned for two boys he loved without condition, one with a hunters heart and an irrepressible joi de vie and the other with a kind of innocence he'd never seen in a hunter.
As he and Dean head up Bobby stops them, "Sam..." All of his uncertainty is there in the one word.
Sam turns and his face is more than the old man can take. No one so young should look that old, that full of regret and still be trying to smile.
"We'll talk through the lore in the morning, okay."
"Okay, Bobby."
SAM–
There is a moment when he considers lying to his brother, but he's never going down that road again. Oh maybe he says he's "fine" when really he feels like breaking down, or heading for the nearest bar, or maybe just needs to sleep for a couple of years, but that's not really a lie. That's just how they've always talked. There are some things that don't need to be articulated. But the hiding kind of lies are right out so instead of a stupid excuse he just ducks his head and has out with it. "Hey, I don't really know why and I don't want you to worry or anything, but um, I was thinking I might spend the night in the car."
Maybe he said it all a bit fast and maybe Dean is more than a little tired. He looks about to drop. It's always like this. His brother can stay awake and alert for hours on end, wide awake until he's not. Sam knows he will be asleep before his head hits his pillow tonight.
"Say that again at half-speed Sammy. You wanna what?" Dean asks pulling off his boots with a satisfied grunt.
"Sleep in the car."
DEAN–
He's pretty sure he heard right the first time, but it didn't make sense so he asked Sam to repeat himself.
"Sleep in the car." Sam says sounding sheepish and contrite.
"What?" he would get to his feet to show how screwed up he thinks the idea is, but he's just too damn tired. Driving from stupid Florida in one stupid go may have been a bad idea. "Why the hell would you wanna do that? No, on second thought don't answer that. I'm freakin' exhausted and I just don't have the energy for this conversation. I won't be able to sleep if you're out there. Just...Sam."
"I'm sorry. If you... I didn't.." Sam often doesn't have the words to finish a statement these days. "Yeah, of course. I'll just.." His giant of a little brother sits on down and starts stripping off his layers.
And yeah there is more he should say, but really the words aren't coming and the only thing he can manage before he falls asleep is to check his phone one last time.
SUBDUCTION
DEAN–
The next few days were just driving, the American countryside flying by fast when he's at the wheel, faster still when Bobby is, and edging closer to the actual speed limit when Sam takes over. It took them close to a full 24 hours to make it to Nevada from South Dakota and now they were in the car again. Dean supposes he should be sick of driving, but that never happens. In fact he had missed driving almost as much as he missed Sam the year he was with Lisa. When he had admitted that to her, she planned a long road trip for them. After he spent a long hot day in Lisa's car with her and Ben he realized that the driving and Sam were kind of a package deal.
He had his eyes trained on the road as they started the climb out of Reno, but his attention was on his brother. Sam was in the backseat, having given up his usual spot to Bobby, engrossed in his new toy. While Sam and Bobby had been at the morgue checking out the body of the victim, Dean had put in some very profitable time at a poker table at Harrahs. Passing a gift shop on his way out of the casino he saw a shiny new iPad and knowing Sam had been intrigued by the gizmo that hit the market while he was in the pit, he'd plunked down some cash for a top of the line model with all the bells and whistles. Watching the intense look on his brother's face as he got to know the new device made him feel better than he had in a long time.
"Bobby, did Rufus say if it matters what the purpose of creating this thing..." Sam didn't get the rest of his words out before Dean interrupted.
"Shit monster Sammy. Not a thing, a shit monster."
"Dean we've been over this. It's a golem and just because horse manure is part of the mixture that's animated doesn't mean it's a...a..."
"Shit, Sammy. You've been to hell so I think you can say shit." Dean regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Granted the only sign that Sam noticed or cared that his brother had mentioned his stay down below was a slight tightening of his shoulders.
"Well whatever you call it, it's going to be dangerous. Get this. A hundred and sixty years ago a bunch of miners are killed in a mine. Obviously that's not real unusual during that time, but stories spread that they were killed by a monster created by a guy from Eastern Europe that he had created with magic to do all the dangerous work for the miners."
"Yeah great plan until the incantation turns on the incantor just like it always does. Idjits messin' around with things they don't understand," grumbled Bobby.
"Well, the authorities just called it another cave in and left it at that. Enough of those guys made it out alive to pass on the story and unfortunately it looks like they passed on the incantation too. And I'm just worried about the why."
"What?" Dean asked.
"Why." Sam responded, fingers still tapping at the glass pad on his lap unaware he was being teased. Just like old times, Dean thought.
"What why?"
"Why these kids... Dean!" Bitchface aside, Sam didn't actually look all that angry. "What I'm saying is that the miners created the thing to help them mine. That was its reason for being. Yeah the whole thing went pear-shaped, but my guess the thing was still just doing what it was born to do. Just not in a way that was safe for anyone in that mine. But this time, well, it seems more malicious and I think that whatever the idiots created it to do, well..."
"It ain't good." Bobby finished.
"When is it ever?" Dean asked turning off of I-80 at the Farad exit.
"But I don't think it much matters why they made the damn thing. All the lore says they're evil, but dumb. Compared to that poltergeist, should be a cake walk." Hell, it wasn't even a two-man job let alone three, but they had been so close that it seemed stupid not to detour the extra hundred miles to take care of it. Sam had read about the mysterious attacks in the Sierras outside of Reno, one of which resulted in death and put that together with something he had read about in one of Bobby's many books of lore that had taken place in the same small mostly abandoned mining town of Farad, Nevada.
Dean remembered when Sam was about 8 he had become fascinated with the gold rush and kept pestering their father to take them to California so they could find gold. He only told Dean, not Dad, the part where they took the gold and bought a house and a dog and a mom. At the time Dean had yelled at Sam that you didn't buy moms and besides they already had one and she was in heaven watching over them. Sam had cried himself to sleep afterward repeating sorry, over and over.
"Sorry. You're probably right. Just worrying over nothing. The lore seems pretty clear – burn it fire and sage, then destroy the incantation scroll that's inside it. I'll just..." Dean waited for the end of the sentence, but yet again Sam just faded off. His head was down and his fingers tapping at the iPad.
BOBBY–
He's fading fast and he knows he should be using his energy to help the boys, but all he really can do is admit to himself that Sam had been right. Sam usually was when it came to this sort of thing; kid had such a sharp mind. But he hadn't trusted Sam enough to even listen, to even give a moment to think about what he was saying. And now here they were: Dean already down, Bobby fading fast, the civilian cowering against the wall behind him, and Sam standing over them fighting with everything he has. His last thought before the darkness took over was 'Boy always fights with everything he has.'
DEAN–
He had been the first to fall. The stupid thing had gone for him the second they walked into the rickety old hut. All of their intel had said that the thing would be dormant when alone; that without its creator feeding it orders it would be just be the lump of shit it actually was. But of course it wasn't alone. There was a kid, sixteen - seventeen at the most, in there with it looking terrified, shaking like a bad muffler. He was round-faced with brown hair and eyes and looked more than a little like Ben and just that moment of distraction had been enough.
He was airborne and crashing into the wall before he could think and three things happened at once. His head cracked against a wall sturdier than the shack had a right to, the can of propellant fueling his flame-thrower busted open, and he heard his brother call out to him.
"Dean!" Sam was over him, protecting him, pleading with him, but he just couldn't form an answer, couldn't keep his eyes open. And Sam looked so scared that the last thought before the darkness took over was 'Sorry Sammy."
SAM–
Two of the sage flame-throwers they had made were destroyed and the other was just out of Sam's reach, that is it was out of Sam's reach if he wanted to keep the golem from getting to Dean, Bobby and the kid. There was only one thing to do. He had to get to the flame-thrower and keep the monster's attention on him. He just didn't think he could guarantee the safety of all three of them if he left them unguarded for even the moment it took to get to the flame-thrower. He needed an idea and he needed it fast. He couldn't let his brother and Bobby down. He had to protect them, prove to them that he was so sorry for what his soulless self had done. Going over the entire thing in his head, Sam was suddenly struck with a thought. The monster had only come after them when Dean had made a move toward the kid. He connected that with what they knew about the victims so far. All of them had been relatively young and to put it bluntly bullies, with the exception of the only death. And Sam is pretty sure the dead guy had been beating his wife.
He wasn't the sort of hunter to just go with gut instinct, preferring to research a thing practically to death, but right now he had to do it and hope for the best. His whole family was depending on him. Taking in a deep breath and a giant step back he put his theory to the test.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, but it's gonna seem..." There was no time to explain and he didn't really have the words to do it. He whirled around aiming a punch at the kid, instantly garnering the monster's malevolent attention and, in a move he could yet again thank John Winchester's patented hunter training for, he duck rolled under it's giant arm and dived for the sage fire-thrower.
His hand curled around the propellant can just before the golem rammed him into the wall. The permanently calm face of the thing belayed the ferocity of the attack. Holding the thing off with all of his strength, Sam let his eyes dart to Dean for just a split second. Blood was seeping from somewhere on his head creating a vivid red halo. And Sam knew there was no time, no time to think or deliberate.
Sam looked at his arm holding the thing back. He tried again with a last rush of adrenaline to push it back but it didn't budge. 'Dean and Bobby are counting on me!' screamed through his mind as he pulled the trigger. The flame burst out, burning through the bundle of sage, Sam's arm, and the golem. The pain was blinding.
The only conscious witness to Sam's desperate, insane act covered his ears as both hunter and hunted screamed in unison. The golem did step back now as the fire engulfed it at an unnatural speed and it finally burst into vibrant blue-green flame, standing rigid as it crumbled apart. Sam rolled onto his arm intellect fighting against instinct to smother the flames. The act sent shockwaves of pain through him, but the flames were out.
The quiet of the cabin was only broken by Sam's heavy fast breathing and the sobs of the boy, who looked as if he might be in shock. Sam wished he could just lie there, let unconsciousness take him; let Dean take care of him, but that wasn't an option. So with a deep shuddering breath he pulled himself together and off the ground.
First he grabbed the scroll that was peeking out from the ashes of the golem and using a lighter from his pocket he set it alight while reciting the counter incantation. That done he went to his family. He checked on Bobby first. A cursory check didn't yield much except what appeared to be a broken ankle or foot. Looking around, he sees that there is plenty there he can use to make a splint, but first he needs to check on Dean.
"Dean? Dean, come on. Time to wake up." He knuckles Dean's sternum and is rewarded with a soft groan. Okay, everything was going to be okay. The crying finally breaks through. "Hey kid, what's your name?"
"Uh..uh Josh." The kid looks at Sam with wide terrified eyes. "Please don't hurt me. We never meant for anyone to get hurt. Honest. I'm so so sorry." Then he is crying again, tears streaming down his young face.
"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I know you didn't mean for anything to happen. I know that. It's over now. But I really need your help okay. We left our car down at the head of the fire road. Do you think you can go down there and get our first aid kit?"
The tears don't stop, but Josh seems a little less scared after hearing Sam's words. He nods and makes to stand up.
"Here are the keys. Now you're going to see some stuff in the trunk that's...well pretty hardcore, but I promise I'm not a serial killer or anything. We...we...uhm...well, we do what you watched us do here today. We kill the bad things out there."
He watched the kid race out the door and slumped to the ground next to Dean, feeling lost and alone, wondering if he had messed up again. His arm was throbbing mercilessly the skin red and blistered. He remembers being so happy, so proud when Dean had told him that he understood that he needed to be treated as an equal. That he didn't need his brother to always 'looking out' for him. Right now he really wished he could just surrender to that kind of caring, but he needed to prove to himself and to his family that he could be trusted, show them how sorry he was.
CONVERGENCE
DEAN–
There was no denying that he was in a foul mood. He didn't mean to snap at everyone, he just seemed to have no tolerance and everything was pissing him off. Bobby was pretty much done with it. Being stuck in a crappy motel room on the seedy side of Reno with a broken ankle and bitchy roommate would be trying for the most patient of souls. Bobby's soul was a lot of good and righteous things, but patient was not one of them. The old guy had told Dean to go take a (literal and figurative) hike and to not come back until he remembered how to respect his elders.
Sam, who apparently did have a patient soul, had calmly told Bobby that Dean was suffering from post concussive syndrome which caused irritability and that it should pass in a day or so. Dean had snorted at that.
"Right Sam. So I guess I've had this post concussive syndrome pretty much my whole life. I always thought it was just you that made me irritable." Jesus, he really didn't mean to say that.
Sam had been doing everything for the pair of them. He had gotten them to the hospital after the hunt, that he had pretty much handled alone. He had dealt with the kids who had created the golem. Dean would have done a lot worse, but his brother just talked to the families and managed to talk the mother of one of the boys (whose father had incurred the monster's wrath after beating his kid) into taking the whole family to therapy. And all of that should have made him so proud, but instead his messed up brain chemistry told him to be pissed off. He knew that it was time to shut right up, but his mouth had other plans.
"Stop freaking coddling Sam. If I'm acting pissy, well maybe I have a reason to. At least when I was in a bad mood at Lisa's they just left me the hell alone!" There was a part of Dean's brain that was trying to stop, leaning into the brakes with both feet, but there was no stopping his locomotive mouth. "Jeez, when you were a soulless douchewaffle you didn't give a crap! Sucked then, but I see the appeal right about now."
He watched his brother's eyes go wide and his whole body sway a little, but he quickly regained composure and even tried to smile (the saddest smile Dean had ever seen). "I..I have to ice Bobby's ankle. I think if it looks good and you don't mind me driving we can get on the road today s..so don't wander too.. uhm..."
"Sam…"
"It's okay, it's just…" He just moved his hand around in circles in the air, like that explained everything. "I'll have the car packed up pretty quick if Bobby's ankle is okay."
"My ankle's fine kid. Dean get the hell out of here so we can get this done and get me home."
BOBBY
He was pretty much done with Dean Winchester. Bobby loved him like a son, but that didn't change the fact that he'd toss him from a moving train right about then. And it didn't seem to matter how often Sam explained that it was just the affects of a serious concussion. It didn't matter that he could still see the worry in the younger Winchester's eyes. All that really mattered to Bobby Singer in that particular moment was that he had had enough of the Winchesters for the foreseeable future.
After the whole thing with the golem had gone pear-shaped, he had woken up in the back seat of the impala with an unconscious Dean and the soft sound of Sam's voice. A daylong visit to the hospital later Sam had them settled in a motel seeing to their needs like an overprotective, hovering mama. Dean was more than his usual grouchy, snarky self. He was being downright mean. His outburst to his brother just before scooping up his phone and heading for parts unknown (just as Bobby had suggested) only proved it.
Sam just shrugged and carried on as if nothing was wrong. "He'll be fine in a couple of days. Probably be better once we get on the road. You know how he hates to be cooped up." He kneeled down by the older man's ankle and started to check the exposed toes for swelling. Sam looked kinda pale this close up and in better days he would have been worried. But these weren't better days.
"Ain't a damn kid, Sam. Don't need you lookin' after me. Let's just pack up the car, find your idjit brother, and hit the road."
"Yeah, sorry Bobby. I didn't mean to…" After standing up quickly, Sam swayed again. Yeah, maybe it didn't take better days to worry about someone you care for.
"Son are you al…" his phone interrupted the question. He checked the display and sighed. "Rufus, can't you manage a single hunt without me?"
Sam smiled affectionately and, after pushing the older man down and propping up his broken ankle, motioned to the bags and then the door.
SAM–
The truth was that he really didn't feel alright. The burn on his arm ached fiercely and he was starting to feel nauseous and tired. Though he chalked that up to taking care of Bobby and Dean for the past few days. They probably should have just headed back to Sioux Falls, but he had been too worried about Dean getting worse while they were in the backend of South Nowhere. If his brother hadn't stubbornly refused medical treatment he wouldn't worry so much, but what if it was worse than a bad concussion. What if he had a skull fracture or something? He couldn't take that chance. And Bobby's foot needed real rest, not being crammed up in a car.
So they had stayed and he had done his best to take care of whatever they needed. He figured he owed it to both of them. Nothing could ever really make up for what he had done. Especially when he didn't remember doing it.
Still none of that changed that he was feeling pretty bad. Maybe if he changed the dressings on his arm he'd feel better. Theoretically he knew that burns required a lot of care. It just kept slipping his mind to take the time. He didn't want either Bobby or Dean to worry about hauling their bags heavy with the weapons his brother had spent the prior night cleaning. So after he had the impala loaded up he would check out his arm. After all he wouldn't be much use if he got sick.
Happy that he had a plan, he pushed back any thoughts of what Dean had said. He stepped out of the motel with Bobby's duffel and promptly started shivering. He didn't remember it being so cold the day before. Jacket first then load the car.
DEAN–
Dean felt a whole helluva lot better. Yeah, his head still ached and generally he felt like crap, but the walk had done him good. He wasn't really the type of guy given to self-reflection. With the life they had self-reflection was just asking for trouble. You look too close at a life like that and you either eat your gun or climb into a bottle and don't bother coming out. But what he had said to Sam was just ten kinds of wrong. Every indulgent pitying thought he'd had about his brother and Lisa and Ben was wrong.
He could bitch and whine about the white picket fence life he had given up all he wanted. That wouldn't get him Lisa and Ben back. He could worry about Sam and that stupid wall holding back hell from his little brother until he was gray. That wouldn't stop it from tumbling down. Ben had accused him of running out on family, but the truth was they were the thing he was running away from family to. He loved them, so much, he really did. There was no doubt about that, but it was always sort of like playing house. Real family didn't need backyard barbeques, homework at the kitchen table, or breakfast routines. Real family didn't need you to do or be anything. Real family always took you as you were through good times and bad (especially bad). Sam was family. It was high time he let the kid know it. There would be no more mooning over a damn phone. It was time to get back to what he did best: hunting things, saving people; the family business.
As soon as he worked that all out in his grapefruit he wasted no time getting back. He'd apologize to Bobby and he'd start doing his job. Twenty minutes of double-timing it found him back at the motel. He entered the room to find Bobby just finishing up a phone call.
"Well, I've told you a coupla hundred times to keep one on ya, but ya don't listen to me. Just call if you need anything." Bobby never really said goodbye or thanks or see you later. Once the required information was passed on he just killed the call. "You cooled your jets at all?"
"Yeah, um sorry about that Bobby. I was kinda bein' a…"
"Dick"
"Don't sugarcoat it."
"Well, not like you're the only one." Bobby got awkwardly to his feet keeping pressure off his healing ankle. "Sam must have the car loaded up. Haven't seen him for a while. S'pose his patience may have run out."
Dean grinned and sidled up next to his friend, father, whatever, lending support without appearing to lend support. Bobby put an arm around the offered shoulder too tired to act tough.
"Should I let him have the first turn behind the wheel? It'll take us twice as long to get home, but he'll just worry over me like a mother hen if I'm driving"
"Kid, I could care less who's drivin' or who's worryin' as long as you get me home in one piece."
The impala was parked in the back lot, the front having been taken over by a posse of monstrous RVs driven by overly friendly octogenarians. The whole thing reminded Dean of the upside to living hard, dying young and leaving a good-looking corpse. They made their way slowly around their end unit to where Sam was hopefully waiting the car packed, gassed up, and ready to go. The car was there sure enough. The far side back door open.
"Sam," Dean called heading to the open door with Bobby. "Where is he? Did he tell you…" He was stopped dead in his tracks by the image in front of him: Sam unconscious legs spilling out of the car, a badly burnt arm clearly visible under an incomplete bandaging job. "Sam, Sammy, what the hell?" Dean climbed into the foot well of the car. Careful of the arm, he shook his brother feeling heat even through layers of clothes. Closer to the burn he could see and smell the infection. "Did you know about this?" he threw back at Bobby.
The man was limping around the back of the car to get to Sam's head on the other side. "Of course not. Come on we gotta get him to the hospital. You can feel guilty later."
Dean figured he could do both pretty much at the same time so gave it a try. They pulled him further into the car, Dean tucking his brother's long legs gently toward the back of the seat and reaching up to smooth sweaty hair off of a fevered forehead. "Careful of his arm." Later he would see it as a mark of their family bond that Bobby didn't smack him upside the head for that stupid comment.
BOBBY–
Watching Dean watch Sam physically hurt. The boy had been whisked away as soon as they had carried him into the emergency room and they had waited for nearly an hour before a doctor came to speak with them. The verdict was heartbreaking: mostly 2nd and some 3rd degree burns and staph infection. It was more than Dean could really take in. Bobby figured he only heard that yes his brother will be fine, but not now, not soon.
Now there is nothing to do, but wait. Sam isn't responding to the antibiotics and there is nothing can be done until he does. They wait, each of them praying to Castiel and getting no response. He wants to talk to his boy, wants more than anything to make things right again. He wants that chance and at his age he'da thought he would have known not to wait until it is almost too late.
DEAN–
"Please Sam, don't leave me. I just… I was a jerk as usual. I'm still getting used to you being back is all. When your soul was in hell it wasn't you. No matter what you want to think. I couldn't trust that guy. I didn't really know that guy. I wanted Lisa and Ben so much more than him even before we found out he wasn't really you. But you gotta know I would never choose them over you. I would never have left you down there. I know that this whole thing may be all kinds of messed up if…okay when that wall comes down, but at least I can be with you if that happens. And I know that you're strong enough to handle whatever happens. We'll do it together." He isn't ashamed of the tears that fall, but can't stand too much caring and sharing. "And hey man if you wanted to sleep in the car that much you coulda just said so."
Dean just wished Cas would answer him. Things are strained between them lately, but he admits that he still needs the guy. He just isn't sure that Cas needs them. He figures that he and Sam have pretty much proven they will go to the mattresses to stop the apocalypse; to save the world. The angel just seemed so wrapped up in his heavenly war that it's pretty frustrating. Cas gets angry and says Dean asks too much and he supposes it's true, but if Cas would just trust them to help with whatever is going on he must know they would do it in a heartbeat. They're family. And right about now he wishes his feathered brother would get down there for two minutes to heal up Sam.
The infection is resistant to antibiotic after antibiotic and the doctors are little less optimistic with each passing hour. When Sam opens his eyes they are hazy and the only words that pass his lips are "I'm sorry" or sometimes he speaks directly to Dean or Bobby and even sometimes Adam begging them to forgive him. Each time breaks Dean's heart a little more. He holds a fevered hand while nurses clean and abrade the burns. Sam cries and Dean holds on tighter and tries to give his brother the forgiveness that he wants, that has always been his for the taking.
He eventually falls asleep, exhaustion and worry carrying him away to dreams of holding baby Sammy in a lonely motel room.
SAM–
He doesn't know where he is and for a frightening moment can't remember anything past falling, always falling.
"Dean?" He wants his brother. "Dean, please." His voice is scratchy and his throat hurts.
"Your brother is sleeping." The deep graveled voice is one he knows heart-deep.
"Cas?" He tries to turn his head to where he heard the voice, but his body doesn't even attempt to cooperate. Luckily the angel seems to realize and moves into Sam's line of sight.
Sam can't remember Cas ever looking so unhappy or tired, not even when they were facing the end of the world. His unfathomably intense blue eyes seem dull and his mouth holds none of the mirth that was usually visible underneath the serious angel exterior. He tried to think of why his friend is like this, but the answer is just out of reach. He thinks maybe it has something to do with what he's done, but that memory is out of reach too.
"Yes, Sam. You were unwell, but I have healed what I could. I'm afraid my grace has been strained of late by the… the conflict in heaven, but I was able to remove a good deal of the bacteria that was damaging your body."
"I don't know… I don't remember…" He blinks his eyes in an attempt to focus better. "Is it my fault?"
CAS–
Now it was Castiel's turn to blink. "Why would that be your fault Sam?"
"I don't know. I can't really remember. I remember I fell." The boy closes his eyes for a moment and then shakes his head. "No I came back, Dean got me back. Right?"
Sam is still a little feverish and Cas realizes that this is how human bodies react to that state. He assumes it is best to just give the young man the information he requests "Yes, that is correct. Dean had Death retrieve your soul and return it to your body."
"Oh yeah. It's always the same huh Cas? I don't mean to mess up. Tell Dean I'll do better."
The angel reached out and touched Sam's forehead lightly, pouring just a bit more of his grace into the sick body. "I do not think your brother will require you to do anything more than recover. So rest. You will feel better soon."
Sam's blinks become longer and longer and then he is asleep. This is the 'Boy with the Demon Blood' whose hand he had hesitated to shake. He is just a boy, so young compared to himself.
"So you finally decided to make an appearance, huh?" If he were not an angel Cas would have been startled by Bobby Singer's sudden appearance.
"Good morning Bobby. I am afraid I was kept away by urgent demands." Cas looked once more at Sam and then strode toward the door where the hunter stood arms crossed in front of him, cap firmly in place. This is exactly how he pictures Bobby when conjuring an image in his mind. "And I must return without delay. Sam is better. I was unable to restore him to full health, but what sickness is left he will be able to fight on his own. Tell Dean I am sorry I couldn't do more. Sam now only needs rest to make a full recovery."
BOBBY–
"I don't know what the hell is going on with you Castiel, but those boys miss you. They both need to know what's goin' on with their friend. Not like Dean has a lot of friends anymore and things with Sam and me, well…" That was not where he was going with this. "Alls I'm sayin' is it wouldn't hurt him or Sam to have another friendly face around. And don't tell me again about the war in heaven. You and I both know they will give up everything to help." He stopped to make sure the angel was looking at him. "If you give 'em a chance. If you trust 'em"
"It is not that simple." Bobby's not sure if angels are capable of looking guilty and if they are what that would look like, but there is something in Cas' eyes that he hasn't seen before.
"Oh yeah 'cuz we got a full supply of simple down here. How's about fightin' this damn Mother of All when we know jack squat how to do it. How do think we're handlin' knowin' all the crap Sam did last year that he don't even remember. Scratch that, that he can't remember or he might die. Is that the kinda simple you're lookin' for?"
That sort of guilty look is gone replaced with a cold assessing stare. There are few times that Cas makes you remember that he is a powerful otherworldly being, preferring to fit himself into his human environment. Now however Bobby feels the need to shift uncomfortably. He feels like something small and insignificant.
"You humans talk a great deal about the soul and yet seem completely ignorant of its true nature, its true power and beauty. The human mind and the human body are truly amazing, capable of great things when and only when tempered and controlled by the soul." Cas takes a deep breath and meets his eyes fully. "I warned Dean against retrieving Sam's soul, but I was wrong. To have left a soul like that in such unspeakable torment for all of time would have been… You are also wrong to hold that soul responsible for things it's mind and body did without it."
"I know it wasn't all Sam. All right Cas. I just wish I knew why he tried to kill me. Is it so wrong to be a bit pissed that someone who says they think of you like a father tries to cut your noggin' off"
"I think you may have answered your own question. I told Sam that returning his soul to his body would be disastrous. An intelligent mind without a soul is an expert at self-preservation." The angel had his head tilted to the side like he did when pondering something. It was in these moments that Bobby saw the being of unimaginable age beneath the frumpy vessel.
"Yeah, well then why didn't he gun for Dean?"
"Dean's death may well have worked, but it is said that to truly scar a vessel one needs to spill the blood of the father."
"I'm not…"
Cas simply holds up his hand to stop him. "If Sam is to weather the storm when the wall crumbles he will need his whole family. Dean will need you too. I'm afraid I will be of little help to them when the time comes. I haven't always understood you Bobby Singer, but I know you will not fail them."
There was just a flutter of wings and the vague sensation of a summer breeze and Cas was gone. It wasn't the sudden disappearance that had Bobby frozen in place. He was pretty darn used to that. No, it was the thoughts and feelings swirling around his head. He didn't hear the nurse approach until she tapped his shoulder and asked if he could move a bit to let her in.
DEAN–
He woke up with the vague sense that he had been dreaming, but with no memory of what. After a few blinks he found that his head no longer felt stuffed full of barbed wire and until that moment he didn't realize how crappy he had felt. However the stupid hospital chair was doing his back no favors. He stretched out his legs, as he looked over at Sam still unconscious and pale.
"We had a visitor while you were sleepin'," Bobby said gruffly from a chair on the other side of the bed.
Dean was immediately up and resting his palm on his brother's forehead. "Cas?" When all he feels is a bit more warmth than normal he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "His fever's down."
"Yep. Guess his angel mojo is a little low, but he's got Sam mostly fixed up. Doc says it's a miracle. Thought it was some drug resistant strain. 'Course he's right on both counts."
Snagging his chair with his ankle, he situates himself next to Sam and takes his brother's hand, knowing Bobby won't mock him for his show of affection. "I knew he'd be okay. No one is as strong as Sammy. But thanks all the same Cas." The last is spoken to the ceiling and is the most sincere he has been in a long time when speaking to the angel.
It's a long time before he speaks again. "It's always been my job to take care of Sammy since we were little kids. I told Lisa that once and she got this really sad look on her face, you know? She said it was terrible that that kinda responsibility was put on me as a kid. She said I should go into counseling because it wasn't healthy how I felt about being a brother. I know she was trying to help. She did help. I woulda died without her and Ben that year. But I couldn't make her understand, can't make anyone, even Sam, understand. I'm glad Dad gave me that job. I'm proud of it, you know?"
"I get it, kid," Bobby said, taking off his cap and dropping it in his lap. "But she wasn't wrong. Ain't always the best thing for you."
"See you don't get it." He knows that he's supposed to explain it, but there are no words that he's ever found to explain what he feels for his brother and doesn't expect he ever will. He's saved from trying to when Sam starts to wake up, eyes fluttering open and hand gripping Dean's. "Hey, Sammy. Come on rise and shine."
He comes awake with that frown on his face. The one that Dean kinda loves and hates all at the same time. The one that draws his eyebrows together and crinkles his forehead. He's obviously confused and therefore tense, but as soon as his eyes meet Dean's he relaxes and damn if that doesn't give him a pretty big boost. He does that. He puts Sam at ease. No one else understands because no one else is Sam's brother.
"Dean? What happened? Why…?"
"That burn on your arm got infected. It was pretty bad Sam. I assume you got that when you torched the golem."
"You shoulda let us know boy. Worried you brother sick." Bobby adds.
"Yeah, I was taking care of it. I promise Bobby. I'm really sor…"
"No more Sam. No more sorrys for now okay. You got nothing to be sorry about." Dean was emphatic.
"But…" Tears were forming.
"No, please Sam. I know you got all this guilt inside you and I know you, I know that you have to set things right. But you don't have anything to set right with me. Okay?" Dean grabbed onto his brother's hand. "Just want you to get better."
BOBBY–
He sees clear as day that Sam doesn't buy it, but knows that Sam will do whatever Dean asks. And sure enough he nods his head. Bobby also knows that this is when he is supposed to say the same thing. He's supposed to set Sam's mind at ease and it isn't like he doesn't want to do that. Castiel's words are rattling around in his head and Sam is looking up at him with eyes that are still wet, still showing signs of fever.
Yeah, the time is coming that he will forgive the kid completely, but it ain't right now. He'll wait until it's all clear in his melon and then he and Sam can talk. It isn't too late. The time will come while they're researching or getting Dean outta some scrap or other and he'll tell Sam that he could never do anything to make Bobby turn away. Right now he won't give any fake words when all he needs to say is, "Get some more sleep Sam, we'll be here when you wake up. Then we'll get on home." Home, his home, but not just his anymore. He thought about the room upstairs that his boys shared and his chest felt tight. That wreck of a house in the middle of a junkyard was Dean and Sam's home. Wasn't how he saw his life workin' out, but this was his family.
"Okay Bobby." Sam's eyes closed, but there is a definite smile on his face mirrored on Dean's own.
"Home, huh? You know Sam never really had one of those?" Dean doesn't sound bitter. He's not blaming anyone, not John, or demons or angels or even himself. Just stating a fact.
"Home ain't necessarily four walls, boy." He won't say more than that, he ain't their momma for Pete's sake.
SAM–
They are driving to South Dakota and he is in the back seat again with more pillows than is strictly necessary and a blanket that has been a part of the impala's usual supplies since before he can remember. He has his iPad on his lap and is supposed to be doing some research on purgatory, but really he is looking at the little army man that is stuck in the ash tray by his sock clad foot.
The impala was home. Dean likes to tell him the story of how he loved to chew on the corner of the headrest when he was teething and it was the only thing that stopped him crying. He suspects that it had more to do with standing in his brother's lap while the boy had held him securely than with the gum soothing properties of the cars upholstery. He remembers playing for hours in the foot wells with Dean while his father drove and drove and finally being lulled to sleep by the drone and growl of the engine. Then again maybe it was the small, but sure hand that rubbed up and down his back telling him that mommy was watching over them from heaven and everything would always be okay. He had his first kiss in the car after his brother let him use it to take beautiful Jennifer Tascher to the movies the last day before they moved again. He had fought with his dad, opened his acceptance letter from Stanford, mourned for the his beloved Jess, mourned for his brother - all in the impala. Everything important had happened there. The impala was home.
But it wasn't really. It was safe and it was comfort, but home was Dean. Dean and Bobby were taking him home to South Dakota. Bobby had called his home theirs. He knows that is big, is important. But the realization that his family is really his home is bigger. He still feels guilt around him all the damn time. He still has to fight not to think about everything he must of done last year. But right here right now he didn't need to be sorry.
Sometimes it felt like all he had were his regrets. And sometimes he gets a reprieve. Because he doesn't just have regrets. He has family.