Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Out of the Mouths of Babes ❯ Promises ( Chapter 12 )

Chapter 12

 

There were no visible signs of physical violence when Sam and Ryuji came back into the motel room, so Dean guessed that their “talk” hadn't gone too badly. But Sam went directly to his bed and collapsed into it, barely managing a sitting position at the last minute, so apparently he wasn't feeling a whole lot better.

 

Ryuji sat down next to him, but he kept about six inches of space between them. Dean chalked another point under the awkward category, and then sat back in his own bed and said, “So…what now?”

 

Ryuji gave him A Look—weird, it looked exactly like John's—and Sam slumped a little with a quiet, “Dean…”

 

“Look, I don't like it any more than you do,” Dean said gently. “God knows I wish we could just hide in here indefinitely, but…you were right when you said we had work to do, and if you want to find the SOB who killed Jessica, we need to start soon.”

 

Sam didn't answer, but rather paid an extraordinary amount of attention to his knees.

 

“Sammy…”

 

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, his voice suddenly hard. “I know.”

 

Ryuji's hand twitched, and then came up with lightning speed to give Sam's shoulder a pat before falling back to the bed. Sam glanced at him, and then gave a quick nod and a small sniff, and straightened just the slightest bit.

 

“So what do we do?”

 

“Right now, we work on getting you focused,” Dean said simply. When Sam started to protest, he held up a hand and said, “Don't bother, man. I know you better than anyone, and I know you're not ready to start digging. I'm not asking for a hundred percent, but I'm not gonna let you go out there as a zombie.”

 

Sam didn't answer, but he didn't look angry, at least.

 

“This is gonna be rough, Sam. It's gonna be rough for a long time, but the next few days are gonna be the worst. You know that. So just…let us take care of some of it, okay? Let me and Ryuji take care of it…at least for a little while.”

 

Ryuji started a little when his name was mentioned, but he didn't argue the assumption that he'd be sticking around.

 

After a moment, Sam sighed a little, and nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. But…just one thing.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said tentatively. “Shoot.”

 

“Well, I don't think I could handle going to check out the apartment…”

 

“No problem,” Dean said quickly. “I'll do that.”

 

“I figured. But that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking you not to go talk to Jess's family without me. I need to be there for that. I'm not expecting you to let me go alone, but you can't either. Promise?”

 

Dean didn't hesitate. It wouldn't have done any good, anyway. “I promise.”

 

XXX

 

There wasn't a lot left of Sam's apartment, but that didn't mean it was easy to get into. There was a lot of hiding involved, ducking behind walls and into nooks to avoid investigating cops. But Dean had been trained by John Winchester, so this? It was child's play. Within minutes he was entering the remains of Sam's home for the past year or two, and wishing he wasn't.

 

It was nothing but wreckage now. There were no inside walls, no way of telling one room from the other, but all the same, Dean's eyes were immediately drawn to the bed. It was buried under rubble, but Dean could see it all too clearly—the place where he could've lost his brother, and the place where his brother had lost his girlfriend.

 

He didn't spend a lot of time there. He felt like he was jumping out of his skin after only a couple of minutes, and stayed only long enough to run EMF, wonder why no one had put salt down, look for leads that he'd pretty much known going in would be nonexistent—basically, all the hunterly things he could think of and no more.

 

He found nothing, but then, that was pretty much what he'd expected, and he went to talk to the cops feeling no disappointment, but a bit more depressed than he'd been going in.

 

XXX

 

Ryuji didn't leave the motel room that day, even though all Sam really did was sleep and watch some TV. They didn't talk much—it felt like they'd said all they needed to say for the moment. But even though the room was small, dim, and silent, Ryuji didn't feel bored or confined. He felt…relieved. He felt like he was finally back where he belonged, back to a life he enjoyed.

 

But at the same time, it hurt a little. It hurt to know that Sam had forgiven him so readily, that he was still the same kind person he'd been as a child. It hurt that he still loved Sam as much as he always had and was still as certain that it didn't matter. Sam was still Sam, he was still Ryuji, and that was all that mattered.

 

Besides, it wasn't like he could stay. Not forever. Oh, he would stick around for a bit, most certainly. He wouldn't leave while Sam needed him. But in the end, he'd go back. He'd return to the Elves and disappear from the Winchesters' lives again.

 

And the most painful part of it was that it would hurt him far more than it would hurt them.

 

XXX

 

Jessica's family had a nice house. It was big, white, normal, with flowers on the lawn. Sam marched up the walk as if he'd been there a thousand times—which, actually, he probably had. Dean followed a little behind him—they were alone, having left Ryuji at the motel to try doing some research.

 

Sam knocked twice on the door, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited, Dean at his back and feeling awkward.

 

The kid who opened the door was maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was tall, thin, blond, and his face was absolutely blank when he saw Sam. He didn't say anything.

 

“Hey, Jeremy,” Sam said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

 

The kid—Jeremy, apparently Jessica's little brother—didn't say anything, his face devoid of all expression.

 

“Um…how're you doing?”

 

Jeremy looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

 

“That was Jeremy,” Sam said, his voice shaking a little. “Jess called him Squirt a lot,” he added, as if that explained anything. “He's a pretty cool kid.”

 

“Yeah, I could see that when he was icing you,” Dean replied. “So…should we go in?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess we could. I never even used to knock, but…”

 

“It's different now,” Dean agreed. After a second of thought, he stuck his head in through the door and was about to call out when Sam shrugged past him and stepped into the house.

 

There was no sign of Jeremy or anyone else, but Sam didn't hesitate and headed down the hallway. Dean followed and found himself in a kitchen, with his brother and two middle-aged strangers.

 

Jessica's mother looked almost exactly like her. Dean had only met the girl for a couple of minutes, but that fact struck him immediately. Same eyes, same hair, same quiet sort of beauty. Her father, on the other hand, was short, round, and balding, and didn't look a thing like either of his children.

 

But they didn't look unhappy to see Sam. They didn't look angry that he was alive and not their daughter, and that pretty much made them both beautiful in Dean's eyes.

 

Not that, you know, he ever would have said as much to anyone living or dead.

 

He was thinking this when Mrs. Moore got to her feet, walked over, and grabbed Sam in a tight hug. Sam stood stone-still for a minute and then hugged her back, holding her as if trying to give comfort, as if he were completely comfortable with this. Dean only wished he were as comfortable.

 

Finally, though, Mrs. Moore let go, and Sam stepped back and said, “I'm so sorry, Angie.”

 

Mrs. Moore—Angie to Sam, apparently—wiped her eyes and gave Sam a watery smile. “Me, too, Sam. Me, too. But…we're glad to came. We'd like to…talk to you.”

 

Dean cleared his throat then, quietly, but it was enough to get Sam's attention.

 

“Oh. Right. Guys, this is my big brother Dean. Dean, this is Angie and Rick Moore.”

 

Dean reached out to shake hands with both of them, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life, more awkward than he'd ever felt in a long history of speaking with the bereaved. And it didn't feel like the awkwardness was going to end anytime soon.

 

XXX

 

Sam leaned against the door for a long time after Mrs. Moore closed it behind him, silent. Dean stood in front of him, watching closely for any sign of a breakdown. But Sam's eyes stayed dry and his face stayed calm, no matter what the emotions he had to have rolling through him.

 

“Sam, you don't have to do this,” Dean said. “You don't have to speak at the funeral. No one will hold it against you.”

 

Sam looked up at him. “I will.”

 

Dean studied him, and even though he didn't like what he saw, he did recognize it. He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

 

“You don't have to come.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Sam, if you believe that, then I really do need to have your head examined.”

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“Yeah. So am I.”

 

XXX

 

Jessica's funeral was like any other—long, sad, and crappy. Sam's eulogy was poignant, well-spoken, and pretty much moved the room to tears, which would have been used as definite ammo for future mocking if not for one thing: it had choked Dean up a little as well.

 

Un-freaking-believable.

 

It actually felt kind of weird, being there. Besides Sam, Ryuji, and the Moore family, he knew absolutely no one here. These were all Jessica's friends, and Sam's.

 

He felt like an intruder, an onlooker into his own brother's life, and it hit him again that he'd been out of that life for a while now.

 

But as bad as the funeral had been, the wake was worse. Hours of sitting in a corner, watching Sam move around the room and try to keep it together while talking with friends who were hurting just as much as he was, was really nothing short of torture.

 

By the end of the day, they were all pretty wrung out, and Dean, for one, was almost wishing he'd never come to Stanford in the first place.

 

XXX

 

Sam, Dean and Ryuji dug around Palo Alto for a week and found…nothing. Granted, it wasn't much more than expected, but the defeat still stung.

 

On the Sunday after Jessica's death, Sam said they should leave. It was surprising that it was his idea, but then, Sam hadn't exactly been following the expected course for grieving through this whole thing. And besides, Dean certainly wasn't going to argue with getting out of Palo Alto, so it was decided that they would leave the next morning.

 

It was also decided that Ryuji wouldn't be going with them.

 

“I just can't,” the Elf explained, as if every word hurt. “You have no idea how much I wish I could, but I have to go back to my father. I still have a lot to learn, and he still needs me.”

 

Sam didn't argue. He hadn't argued with anyone, about anything, in seven days. It was as if all the fight had gone out of him. All he said was, “Will we see you again?”

 

Ryuji smiled gently. “What kind of a question is that? Of course you'll see me again. Such a maudlin view of things, Sam! I'm only going back home.”

 

“Yeah, where you'll be prepping for an invisible war. It's not exactly the safest place for you to be.”

 

“And you and Dean are so well-known for hiding from danger,” Ryuji shot back.

 

Sam blushed and looked down sheepishly. “True. I just…I don't like the idea of you going away for ten years again.”

 

“It wasn't ten years, and what if I promise it won't be that long this time? What if I promise to come see you guys as often as I possibly can?”

 

Sam looked up. “Really?” He would have been ashamed of how young he sounded, but…well, not today.

 

Ryuji smiled. “Really.”

 

Sam sighed. “Well, let's go tell Dean, then. He's probably gonna give you quite a bit of grief over this.”

 

XXX

 

“So you realize that not telling your friends you're leaving is the most dysfunctional thing you've ever done, and that's in a long line of dysfunctional things.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “And you realize why that's my choice.”

 

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes, and turned to Ryuji. “And you realize that ditching us again is the suckiest thing you've ever done.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryuji replied. “And you realize why I have to.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Well, as long as we all realize we're idiots, I guess.”

 

“That's the important thing,” Ryuji agreed cheerfully. But then his smile faded and he said, “You know I'm coming back, right? This isn't permanent. I might even come see you for Christmas.”

 

“Oh, don't bother, we don't need an extra person to cook for anyway,” Dean said. Then he smiled and held out a hand to the Elf, who took it and surprised him by pulling him in for a hug. Dean grunted in surprise, then just kind of patted Ryuji on the back a couple of times before pulling away, looking disturbed.

 

Ryuji grinned at him. “Forgot you were such a touchophobe.”

 

“Yeah, well…don't do it again,” Dean said awkwardly. Then he fastened a hand to Sam's shoulder, shoved him forward, and said, “I'll be in the car.”

 

And then Sam and Ryuji were standing alone in front of the motel.

 

“So…” Sam said, hands in his pockets. “Here we are again.”

 

“Yes. Here we are,” Ryuji agreed.

 

“You heading home today?”

 

“Yeah. Listen, Sam, can we cut the small talk, please? Just…tell me how mad you are that I'm doing this.”

 

“I'm not,” Sam replied instantly, sincerely.

 

“You're not.”

 

“No. I'm not mad. I'll miss you, but I'm not mad.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Look, Ryuji. If there's one thing I understand, it's making sacrifices for your family. I tried to escape that, and look where it got me. No, no, it's true,” Sam added as Ryuji opened his mouth to protest. “And that's not what I'm getting at anyway. The point is, I understand. Just…don't go for too long, okay?”

 

“Why do you guys keep assuming I'm gonna ditch you?” Ryuji asked with a groan.

 

“Uh…because you did once?”

 

“Oh. That. Right,” Ryuji said, looking embarrassed. “Well, I'm not going to again, okay?”

 

Sam didn't make him promise. He just said, “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Ryuji repeated. “Now get over here and give me a hug before your brother decides to leave without you.”

 

For some reason, hugging Ryuji wasn't as embarrassing as it should have been, and Sam held on for a long time before letting go and turning to leave.

 

“Oh, and Sam?”

 

Sam turned back to his friend. “Yeah?”

 

“It's okay, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“It's okay that you haven't been able to cry. I know you've been worried about that.”

 

“Wha—how did you—”

 

“Don't be worried,” Ryuji interrupted. “I know you feel wrong now, but it won't last forever.”

 

Sam stared at him, still questioning, but Ryuji wasn't going to answer.

 

“I promise.”

 

----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------

 

Author's Note: Spring break is so boring! I'm almost completely confined to my room except when I eat. That's bad for me, but turns out it's good for the people who like this story, because if it wasn't for my boredom I probably never would've gotten this written.

 

One other thing. Apologies to those I told that this would be the last chapter. Turned out there was more there than I thought. But the next one will certainly be the last—an epilogue and that is it. Promise! And I'm not saying that just `cause Ryuji did first.