Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ A Sea of Waking Dreams ❯ Fault Lines ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5

 

Dean had been a little surprised that his cell hadn't rung all day, so he fished it out immediately when it started to do just that as he fired up the car to pull out of the parking lot.

 

“Hey, Sammy.”

 

“Hi, Dean,” Sam said, and maybe it was because he could only hear and not see, but for a moment Dean could have sworn he was talking to his brother at six instead of his little brother at twenty-three. “Are you okay?”

 

Dean felt it was safe to roll his eyes, since Sam wasn't there, and did so. “`Course I'm okay. I was just interviewing.”

 

“I thought you decided to go finish the job anyway. You do stupid things like that sometimes.”

 

“Oh, thanks, Sammy.”

 

“You're welcome,” Sam said, completely serious.

 

Dean rolled his eyes again.

 

“Dean, stop rolling your eyes.”

 

Dean paused for a moment—but he had to ask. “Did you just…”

 

“I just know you,” Sam said simply. “Where are you?”

 

“On my way back there,” Dean replied. “Ten minutes at the most.”

 

“Okay.” He paused. “Cal just muttered that he bets Niko had a better day than he did. Oh. Now he's blushing and looking annoyed. I don't think I was supposed to hear him. Sorry, Cal.” He paused again, then relayed to Dean, “He says it's okay.”

 

“Well…that's good, I guess,” Dean said. “Look, Sammy, I need to hang up now, okay? I'll be there in ten minutes.”

 

“All right,” Sam said. “Does that mean I should hang up now?”

 

“Uh…yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said, sounding a little reluctant. But then there was a click and a dial tone, and Dean put his phone away.

 

“How was it today, then?” Niko asked. He was still playing with his knife, though not as threateningly as before. He already seemed to have forgiven Dean for his comment earlier—he was just as polite as ever.

 

Dean shrugged. “Couldn't really tell. He didn't sound too freaked or anything, but it's not as obvious these days—what he's thinking—which is weird since he can't seem to lie to me anymore…”

 

Niko was watching him as he trailed off, and now he commented lightly, “I don't think I'd want Cal to be incapable of lying. Of course, he's usually wise enough not to lie to me, anyway.”

 

Dean glanced over at Niko at that, and grinned almost against his will. “Yeah, I'll bet he is…”

 

XXX

 

Cal found it hard to disguise his relief when Dean walked back into the motel room. It wasn't that he wanted to get away from Sam, exactly—he wouldn't mind sticking around now, even. It was just…Sam was so quiet—when he wasn't making random insightful comments with candid disinterest. It was unnerving, and it would be nice for him to have Dean to focus on again.

 

The surprising thing was that Dean looked as relieved as he felt—though, from the way his eyes kept darting to Niko behind him, hid relief sprung from an entirely different source.

 

“Did you boys have fun?” Niko asked, in a fairly good imitation of an overbearing mother.

 

“Oh, yeah, it was awesome,” Cal replied sarcastically. “We're not really missing much without a cable TV, are we?”

 

Niko raised one eyebrow. “I believe I've told you that time and again.”

 

“Yeah, but you also told me that tofu at that vegetarian place you like so much would be good.”

 

“And I was right. You just failed to recognize it.”

 

Cal shook his head in disbelief and turned his attention to Dean, who was already sitting on the bed next to Sam. It looked like a tight fit, with both of them side by side, but neither of them seemed willing to use the untouched other bed.

 

“Uh…” he started, then realized that he couldn't say what he'd been planning to. He couldn't tell Dean what he and Sam had talked about with Sam sitting right there and all. And he highly doubted that Dean could pick up his message with a simple look the way Niko could.

 

So in the end, he settled for saying, “You need someone again, you know where to find us.”

 

Dean looked carefully at him and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

And Cal suddenly felt like maybe Dean had picked something up.

 

XXX

 

“That is one majorly screwed-up kid.”

 

Niko looked sideways at him as they walked. Whatever he was thinking, it didn't show as he commented mildly, “He's older than you.”

 

“Not much.”

 

“Four years. It's a bigger age difference than the one between you and I.”

 

“Yeah, but still. He just…seems younger.”

 

Niko nodded. “He does at that. But you remember when we first met him—he didn't seem so young when he pulled you out of that grave, did he?”

 

Cal groaned. “I knew you'd never let me forget about that.”

 

“Why should you when I'm unable to?” Niko countered, and there was too much truth in that for Cal to reply with some blow-off remark.

 

“So how were things with you and Dean?” he asked instead, changing the subject.

 

Niko shrugged. “Awkward. He simply can't feel comfortable around me. Or you, for that matter. Nor to I think he ever will be. Trust doesn't seem to come easily to him or to Sam.”

 

“Huh,” cal said thoughtfully. “Maybe we're not so different from them after all, then.”

 

Niko looked at him again, fully this time, and smiled—God only knew at what.

 

“You're right. Maybe we're not.”

 

XXX

 

“So how was it today?”

 

Sam tilted his head until it rested against Dean's shoulder, still staring at the now-muted TV. It was a gesture that had become habit for them both, and Dean never had discouraged it.

 

“It was weird,” Sam replied. “The room was all empty. And Cal didn't want to watch TV, like you and I always do.”

 

“What'd he want to do?” Dean asked, keeping his own eyes on the TV, too.

 

“Talk,” Sam said simply.

 

Dean looked down at the dark head on his shoulder at that. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice steady, flat. “What'd you talk about?”

 

“Me,” Sam answered, his tone unchanging. “And him. But I can't tell you what he said about him. I think it's a secret.”

 

“Okay, fair enough. But what'd he say about you?”

 

“That it's not my fault you went away,” Sam replied, still without any noticeable change in volume or steadiness.

 

“Wha—Sammy, of course it isn't!” Dean said, staring down at his brother in shock. “God, is that what you've been thinking this whole time?” And you told Cal and not me?

 

Something of his hurt must have shown in his voice, because Sam said, “Cal guessed. I didn't tell him. And I didn't know that was what I thought. Not really.”

 

Well, okay. But that didn't erase the way Dean felt about not having known.

 

“Sam, listen to me. I don't know how the hell it got into your head that this could've possibly been your fault, but it is not. I got the bad end of things that night, and that was it. Nothing either of us could do about it.”

 

“Then why do you keep acting like it's your fault you weren't here?”

 

Dean stared at him for a second, then managed a small grin. “You still got it, Sammy.”

 

“I've still got what?” Sam asked, confused.

 

“Never mind. Just…look, Sam, you have to know it wasn't your fault—at least on some level.”

 

Sam's head bowed a little more. “I do. I think. Sometimes.”

 

Sometimes wasn't all the time, and it wasn't nearly enough, but Dean could already tell that this wasn't going anywhere tonight. So instead, Dean just sighed and said, “Okay, Sammy, okay,” and left well enough alone—for now.

 

But apparently, Sam wasn't quite done, because after a few minutes of silence, he looked up at Dean for the first time yet. For just a moment, the mask over his face dropped away, and Dean was nearly bowled over by the sheer amount of pain and guilt in his eyes.

 

“But I did kill four people, Dean. Nothing we can say will change that.”

 

And then the mask went back up, and Sam's eyes went back to betraying nothing of what he was feeling. He turned back to the screen again, and Dean was left to stare into space and wonder, for the ten thousandth time, how they'd ended up here.

 

And why he couldn't seem to do anything to get them back to where they'd been before.

 

XXX

 

“But, Dean, I don't understand,” Sam said, and the faint tinge of emotion in his voice was enough to make Dean pause.

 

“What don't you understand?” he asked gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed, facing his brother. “You know I've been working on a hunt of the last couple days. And I know enough now to finish it tonight. It's just a simple salt-`n-burn—I'll be back before you know it.”

 

“But why did you call Cal and Niko again? Why can't I just go with you?” Sam asked, just the way he'd begged to go with Dean when he was ten or eleven and too young to hunt quite yet—begged to go and just sit in the car, just to be closer to Dean.

 

The memory nearly caused Dean to back down, but…

 

“Sammy, you just can't, okay? Not this time. Just…trust me.”

 

“But why? Dean, what's so important about you being on your own for this? If you want to get away from me—”

 

“God, Sammy, no!” Dean burst out. He debated for a second, but if that was what Sam thought, then… “I called a doctor, okay? The head psychologist at the hospital you busted out of.”

 

Sam actually flinched a little at that, but he didn't say anything, and Dean rushed on, determined to tell all.

 

“I just didn't know what to do, and he seemed like a pretty okay guy, and I didn't tell him where we are and called from my cell and—”

 

“What did he tell you?”

 

It was the first time Sam had interrupted him since he'd come back, and Dean didn't really know what to make of it.

 

“He…he said we needed to…try for a little normal. And also that…both of us need to get used to being apart sometimes.”

 

“…Oh,” Sam said. That was all, and Dean felt an uneasy flutter in his stomach. Sam had every right to be mad about this—about Dean talking to an outsider about him—but…he wasn't.

 

Couldn't he get worked up about anything anymore?

 

“Take Niko with you.”

 

Dean looked at Sam quickly, and found him staring resolutely away.

 

“You shouldn't go alone, because of all the stupid things you do.

 

Dean sighed. “We'll talk when I get back?”

 

Sam was about to answer when there was a knock on the door. With one more sad look at his brother, Dean got up to answer it.

 

He was almost at the door when Sam spoke again.

 

“Don't be gone too long, okay?”

 

Dean looked back at him with his hand on the knob, and managed a small smile.

 

“Okay, Sam.”

 

XXX

 

Michael bit back a steady stream of curses when he saw the two other boys approach the motel. He hadn't counted on them showing up again—and right when he was finally ready to do something.

 

With a muttered oath, Michael watched the two other boys go into the motel room and thought furiously of what to do about this. If all four of them were going to be there…

 

But no. He caught a glimpse of movement in the direction of the motel, and looked in time to see Dean and one of the two new boys emerge from the room. He watched as they walked to the black Impala and got in, and then the car rumbled out of the lot.

 

So that just left two.

 

But that was still one too many.

 

He just…he hadn't planned for this! And this whole thing required planning, if it was going to go off smoothly. But if the new boys were going to persist in coming around every time Dean left---it wasn't like he could stay here forever. He was working on a timetable and he'd already pushed back his schedule so far…he couldn't interrupt it anymore. And if he couldn't rely on his target being left alone anytime soon, either, then…

 

It didn't leave him with many options—but there was one. There was one thing he could do.

 

It seemed that a little reworking of his plan was in order here…

 

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Author's Note: Well, I haven't checked my e-mail yet today, but now that I've put up my update for the week, it seems that I'm only one and a half papers, a mythology book, a few Bible stories, half a collaborated fanfic, and a few betas behind! I've finally made a dent—and it only took a few days of work!

 

No, seriously, I'm feeling a sense of accomplishment right now…

 

I have two things to tell you guys. The first thing is that I'll be changing my username pretty soon. “Kender Rock My World” is just too long for people to write. So I'll be changing it to “Adara-chan” or some variation of that, since that's the name so many of you online folks know me by anyways.

 

The second thing is actually on behalf of my sister, who goes by the name Bards of Bedlam here. She wants me to let anyone I can know that she's looking for people to beta for. She says I'm way more popular on here than she is—she's wrong, but whatever—and that I'm the best person to let people know. And I can vouch for the fact that she'd be an awesome editor. So, if anyone's looking for someone, go on and check out her beta profile!

 

There, I've fulfilled my obligations. Sorry for the long note, guys!