Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Paint Around the Empty Space ❯ Half In, Half Out ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter 6

 

Dean knew he was going to have to ask later on. He was going to have to look the most incredible of gift horses directly in the mouth and go ask Georgina King how she'd done what she'd done. He was going to have to ask her, and he was also going to have to ask Sam what the hell, even though he wasn't going to like to hear it.

 

And there were other things to do, too. They would have to go to the clinic and make sure Niko hadn't actually broken any of Sam's bones, they would have to get Bobby and Missouri their own rooms once they finally got back to the motel, they would have to figure out exactly what to do about the…the murders.

 

But Dean didn't want to think about the murders right now, and none of those other things seemed terribly urgent right now. Not when Sam was still sobbing like his heart was breaking, still curled into a smaller ball than he should have naturally made, still so. Damn. Broken.

 

“Shh,” he whispered into Sam's hair, stamping out any flicker of embarrassment toward Niko, Cal, Missouri, George and Bobby, who were all still standing around watching them. They all mattered about as much as his pride right now, anyway. “Shh, it's all gonna be okay, I'm right here. I'm right here, Sammy.”

 

Far from helping, though, the gentle words and the nickname seemed to undo Sam even more, causing his sobs and shaking to intensify and his grip to tighten around Dean's wrist.

 

“Hey, Sam, hey, you need to calm down, all right? You gotta catch your breath or you're gonna pass out…”

 

Sam shook his head, but Dean wasn't sure whether it was denial, disbelief, or just some random contraction of muscles causing his neck to spasm. His sobs didn't slow.

 

Dean sighed a little and tried a different tack. Turning to the others, he said, “Can we have some time alone?”

 

It was kind of a cheesy line, and normally he would have kicked his own butt for it, but right now the world was kind of upside down, anyway, so what did one more wacky thing matter?

 

And it worked, anyway. The five of them filed out of the room without a word, and Dean gave another small sigh, of relief this time. The room seemed so much bigger now that it was holding two instead of seven. He turned back to Sam then, but he didn't say anything this time. He just settled for remaining on his knees beside the bed, letting Sam cling and cry and just waiting.

 

Right now it seemed like the only thing he could do, but that wouldn't last.

 

I'm gonna fix this…

 

XXX

 

A half hour or so later, Sam had finally started to calm down—or possibly he'd just run out of tears. Either way, though, the end remained the same. Sam went limp against the mattress, still holding onto Dean's wrist, still hiding his face from view. He was trembling, only now there was exhaustion threaded in through the pain and the grief.

 

After another few minutes, Dean finally spoke. “Look, Sam, I know we have a lot to talk about, but we need to get to the motel first, okay?”

 

Sam didn't react to his words except to shake harder, and Dean's worry spiked another notch. He could understand Sam's grief, but what was with this silence?

 

Well, he'd have plenty of time to figure it out once it was just him and Sam, alone and secure in the familiarity of a crap motel room.

 

Shaking his head and letting out another small sigh, Dean started to push himself to his feet and go make the arrangements—only to be jerked up short when Sam's fingers tightened like a vice and pulled him back down again.

 

“Okay, okay,” Dean said with a shaky chuckle, managing a weak smile even though Sam wasn't looking. “I won't go anywhere. You don't have to let go. We'll just do this together, okay?”

 

Dean thought for a moment, and then turned and called, “Hey, Bobby?”

 

It was like he blinked and Bobby was just there, his face all open concern and anxiety to help, to do something.

 

“Hey, could you do me a favor?”

 

Bobby huffed in genuine, if tempered, irritation. “You have to ask, kid?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Can you call the motel and book a couple extra rooms for you and Missouri?”

 

“Sure, it's a done deal.”

 

“And maybe ride with Missouri? I dunno if you can fit your old bones in the back of the Impala, and Sam seems to be having a little problem letting go of me.”

 

“Yeah. Guess I shoulda brought the truck. You want us to go now?”

 

“That'd be good. I wanna get Sam back to the room as soon as I can.”

 

“All right, then. I'll tell the rest of `em.”

 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said, and at his sincerity Bobby waved a hand and grunted in embarrassment, then left the room.

 

Dean watched him leave and then turned back to his brother, putting his free hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezing gently. “Sam, we need to go now. Do you think you can get up if I help you?”

 

For several moments, Dean thought Sam wasn't going to react at all, that he was going to have to somehow find a way to carry his younger and much taller brother out of the apartment and to the car. And right now, with every limb sore and practically numb from exhaustion, he didn't exactly relish that idea.

 

Finally, though, Sam nodded, a barely perceptible twitch of the head, and Dean felt a true smile break across his face.

 

“Good, Sammy. That's good.”

 

Sam jerked sharply as he spoke, and after a second Dean realized it had to be a reaction to the nickname. Huh. That's…interesting…

 

But as tempting as it was, now was not the time to ponder further.

 

“Okay, then, Sam. Let's get you up, then, huh?”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Dean shifted his available arm so that it was firm around Sam's shoulders. Sam proved unsettlingly easy to lift, and Dean added one more thing to his to-do list: get some food into his brother as soon as humanly possible.

 

He didn't mention it then, though—he just got Sam into a seated position and then, as gently as he could, lifted him to his feet.

 

Sam staggered a little and then leaned heavily against him, his eyes fixed on his feet, and Dean slid an arm down around his waist to hold him up. Sam still wouldn't let go of his wrist, which made things slightly more difficult, but it was a tiny price to pay.

 

“Okay, kiddo. Let's get moving. Slowly.”

 

Getting out to the Impala turned out to take even longer than he'd expected. Sam seemed weak as a newborn kitten, almost unable to stand under his own power even though apparently he'd been walking around and…oh, man, killing…just fine.

 

They did get there eventually, though, and Dean found himself having to shove Sam in first and follow almost instantly to avoid getting his shoulder jerked out of his socket by the implacable grip that by now had completely deadened all feeling in Dean's hand.

 

Sam still wasn't looking at him, though. He hadn't, not once since that time right after he'd woken up. He leaned his head forward, his hair obscuring his face, his shoulders hunched forward. Dean felt his heart wrench at the sight—Sam just looked so…defeated.

 

But he wasn't. They weren't. Maybe they had been, but now they were together again and they didn't have to be defeated anymore.

 

I'm gonna fix this…

 

XXX

 

Half an hour later, Dean finally had Sam in the motel room, and for the first time in years they were lying in the same bed—well, more like crushed together in the same bed with both of them in danger of falling off, but whatever.

 

Sam still wasn't talking, though. He wasn't talking, he wasn't looking anywhere but down, and he definitely wasn't indicating that he was planning to let go of Dean anytime soon. And, okay, so maybe Dean wished a little bit that he could take a shower, change his clothes, eat something, maybe stop neglecting basic hygiene.

 

Come to think of it, he wished more that he could find a way to make Sam do all that, since the kid probably hadn't had bath that wasn't a sponge bath, a change of clothes other than the probably stolen ones he now wore, or any food not fed to him through a needle in almost a week.

 

But right now that didn't seem like an option. Right now, Sam was just too broken up for Dean to risk leaving him alone. He'd have to get Sam a little less freaked out first, he guessed.

 

The problem was, Sam just wasn't reacting to anything right now. It was like when George had woken him up, he had remained half in whatever dream world he'd been in, and Dean couldn't figure out how to bring him out of it.

 

With another small sigh much like the ones he'd been giving all night, Dean reached up and combed his fingers through Sam's hair while he tried to figure out how to get his brother to talk to him. Sam moved a fraction of an inch closer in reaction to the touch, his forehead resting on Dean's shoulder, and Dean felt a small flicker of triumph.

 

“So how're you feeling, Sammy?”

 

It was about the stupidest question that could have come out of his mouth, but seriously, Dean had never been in this situation before! He was lucky he'd managed to get anything out of his mouth at all.

 

Sam didn't answer, of course, but once again he did that peculiar startled, jerky movement that had been his reaction to his nickname ever since he'd first come back.

 

“What's the matter, kiddo?” Dean asked quietly, still brushing Sam's hair back. “Is it the name that's bothering you? Should I stop calling you that?”

 

That question finally got the reaction that Dean had hardly been hoping for. Sam shook his head almost violently against Dean's shoulder, his hand tightening on Dean's wrist, and he pushed himself even closer. Baffled, Dean stared down at the top of Sam's head and asked, “Then why do you act that way when I say it, huh? What's the matter, Sammy?”

 

Sam jerked again and buried his face in Dean's jacket, shaking his head again.

 

“Sam, please,” Dean whispered, finally letting some of his worry and desperation leak through. “I don't know what's going on with you. I need you to talk to me, okay? Please.”

 

Sam didn't say anything, but his grip loosened and he shifted so that he wasn't quite so close, and Dean figured maybe that was all he could ask for.

 

The silence stretched some more while Dean tried to figure out what to say, how to draw Sam out of his shell.

 

“I…”

 

Dean jumped a little, way more startled than he should have been, and stared down at Sam in amazement. “Sam? Sammy?”

 

Sam twitched a little and then lifted his head. His eyes met Dean's, and Dean felt a twinge. He just looked so lost…

 

Then Sam opened his mouth, licked his lips a little, and frowned in concentration. A moment later, he finally spoke again, his voice a bare, raspy shadow of itself, unused to speaking and choked with emotion.

 

“I missed hearing that.”

 

Dean managed a small smile. “Yeah, well, I kinda missed saying it.”

 

Sam looked up at him and said, “How long can you stay?”

 

Dean stared down at him, his mind blank as he tried to work out what Sam meant. Then it dawned on him, and he said, “Oh, Sammy, no. It's not like that. This isn't just some visit. I'm staying, okay?”

 

Sam looked confused then. “But you died.”

 

“No, Sammy,” Dean said quietly. “I know that's what it looked like, but I wasn't dead. Look, it's a really long story and I don't think you can last through it, but…I promise I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Okay?”

 

“Promise you're not a demon?”

 

Dean frowned. “Huh? A demon? Sam, if you thought I was a demon, even a little bit, then what's with the closeness?”

 

Sam looked down again, his reply barely a whisper. “Because I wanted to pretend.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes a little—trying to pry information out of Sam tonight was like trying to shift a mountain of granite. “What do you mean, Sam? What did you want to pretend?”

 

“That you were really here. Even if you weren't really.”

 

Strangely, that made more sense than it didn't. “So even if it was just a demon pretending to be me, you didn't mind as long as you could keep telling yourself it was me.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. But it is you, so I don't have to pretend. Right?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Right.”

 

Sam didn't smile, but the lines around his mouth faded almost entirely and he relaxed a little more. “That's good…”

 

“Yeah, it is. And since it's good and I'm staying and everything, you think you could let go of my arm now?”

 

Sam looked down at the arm in question and had the decency to turn a little red. “I'm sorry…”

 

“Don't be. I get it, I do. But my hand's pretty much dead and I'd kinda like to be able to use it after tonight.”

 

Sam continued to look down at his hand for a second, frowning again in concentration, until finally he managed to pry himself from Dean's arm. Dean winced as his hand started tingling as the blood rushed back into it. He flexed it in hopes of making the tingles subside faster, and then after a minute he dropped it to his side and turned his attention back to Sam.

 

“Good, Sammy. That was good.”

 

If Sam resented being talked to like he was five, he didn't show it. He just leaned his head into Dean's shoulder again and breathed, “You're still here. I let go and you're still here.”

 

Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair again and said, “Told you. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

Sam blinked slowly and then said, “Dean, where'd you go?”

 

“I told you, Sam, later, okay? We'll talk about it later.”

 

“But…I feel like I should know. It's just all…fuzzy.”

 

“That's all right, Sammy. You've been through a lot. We'll talk about it tomorrow. I think you need to get some sleep now.”

 

“Sleep?”

 

“Yeah. You know, that thing where you close your eyes for a while and then you open them and it's all light outside? Sleep.”

 

He could practically hear Normal Sam's exasperated reply. “I know what sleep is, Dean.” This Sam, though, just looked vaguely worried and said, “Are you gonna sleep, too?”

 

“Well, yeah. Obviously. You've been running me ragged lately, kiddo.”

 

Sam ignored that last part. “Just…don't go.”

 

Dean wasn't sure whether he meant not to leave again or just not to go to the other bed, but either way his answer would have been the same. “I'm staying right here, Sam. Just go to sleep.”

 

As if the words were some sort of spell, Sam closed his eyes immediately, his body giving into his exhaustion entirely and relaxing into sleep.

 

Dean, though, found himself unable to close his own eyes quite yet. He just kept staring down at his brother, absorbing the sight of his brother. His brother, who was here. His brother, who was finally talking to him. His brother, who he was going to fix if it took up the next ten years.

 

His brother, who wasn't leaving Dean anymore than Dean was leaving him.

 

His face softening into a smile, Dean slid down until his head rested on the pillow—feeling Sam shift so that his head could remain on Dean's shoulder—and closed his eyes to sleep.

 

XXX

 

Dean came to full wakefulness with a start and noticed immediately that something was missing. In his disorientation, he wasn't able to pin it right away, but it was still only a couple of seconds before he managed to figure it out.

 

Sam.

 

Panicked, Dean slid out of bed and looked around frantically, looking for any sign of his brother. Sam wouldn't have left, he couldn't have, there was no way he could have gone nuts again, he was fine, he had to be here…

 

Sam…

 

A small sound reached him then—kind of like a little whimper mixed with a sob. He looked around again, this time more carefully, and this time he caught a small movement in the corner of the room, behind the other bed.

 

He didn't even bother walking around—he just leapt over the mattress and landed in front of Sam, who was sitting with his back against the wall, his head bent until his forehead touched his pulled-up knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

 

“Sammy?” he whispered, reaching out to rest a hand on Sam's shoulder.

 

Sam jumped, his head shooting up, his eyes meeting Dean's. He looked…panicked. And lost. And in so much pain.

 

His voice, when he spoke, was still raw with lack of use, with emotion—and now, with fear.

 

“I killed them, Dean. I killed them all.”

 

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Author's Note: Wow. This was an interesting chapter to write. I went through like three versions of the beginning before I finally settled on that one. Hope it was the right one to go with…let me know, will you? Ya know, in reviews and stuffs?

Oh, and one more thing. I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will be up. I'm going to Florida on May 2, and even though we're supposed to have wireless down there, my access will probably be a little iffy. I'll have it up as soon as I possibly can, though.