Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ A Sea of Waking Dreams ❯ True Brothers ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter 11

 

Sam didn't feel much better by morning, but he'd gotten better at pretending he felt better, so that was progress, at least.

 

For the first time in a while, Dean had slept in the other bed, but…that was okay. It was important for the to do that, Sam knew. He'd woken with nightmares a few times as a result of the sudden distance, but each time, Dean had woken with him, had slid out of bed and crouched next to him, soothing him with a hand in his hair and soft murmurs of, “It's okay, Sam, I'm still here, we're gonna be fine.” Each time he'd waited until Sam was asleep before going back to his own bed, only to leave it again the next time Sam woke.

 

Despite the rough night, though, Dean still looked better the next morning than he had all week. He'd gotten less sleep, and yet he looked more rested. He'd regained some of his old swagger, too, and finally looked more like a twenty-seven-year-old hunter than the fifty-year-old refugee of some war-torn country.

 

And he'd ordered in breakfast, or maybe gone and picked it up. But he'd gotten it somehow, and had it set out on the table by the time Sam sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted him with a quick, but genuine, grin. “Hope you feel like getting up, `cause I'm seriously not serving breakfast in bed, dude.”

 

“Mm…hungry…” Sam muttered, surprised. It was…nice, actually—feeling things as normal as hunger again—and Dean looked even happier about it than he felt. Moving awkwardly, Sam lurched to his feet and over to their little table. He felt better for the general forward movement, and by the time he sat down, he'd managed to temporarily shove away his roiling emotions in favor of shoving food into his mouth as fast as humanly possible.

 

Or possibly faster. He wasn't quite sure.

 

XXX

 

Cal slept for a solid fifteen hours or so—coming to only when Niko came to press pain pills on him in the night—and woke feeling considerably more lucid, if stiff as a board. All in all, he felt better. More Cal-like.

 

And, in a very Cal-like fashion, he decided he didn't feel like being awake just yet. Having reached this conclusion, he was just about to let himself drift off again when he smelled it—food.

 

Once again sticking to his true—and, as he felt, stunning—colors, Cal was unable to resist that particular call, and in a second he was opening his eyes and craning his neck to see out the door toward the kitchen/living room table without too much movement.

 

“You won't get anywhere that way,” Niko said from the chair he'd spent the night in.

 

Cal turned to look at him and said succinctly, “I'm hungry.”

 

“Color me shocked beyond all reason,” Niko replied, already standing up and leaning over him to put a strong arm around his shoulders and lift him easily into a seated position.

 

“Jeez, Nik, I can make it to the table on my own,” Cal mumbled in embarrassment as Niko swung his legs over the side of the bed.

 

“Do you honestly believe that?” Niko asked.

 

“Well…no,” Cal admitted after a moment's pause. “But…almost, right?”

 

“Yes. Almost.” He pulled Cal carefully to his feet, and once they were both upright, asked, “Are you okay?” Cal nodded a reply, and let Niko support him as they made their slow way to the table.

 

The first thing Cal noticed when they reached it was that Niko had pulled out all the stops. You name the breakfast food, and chances were it was on the table. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, eggs over easy, eggs up—basically the entire egg family—French toast, sausage, cinnamon rolls, bagels, biscuits—and that was just the food. There was also milk, water, and five different kinds of juice.

 

“Nik, I know you have certain opinions where my eating habits are concerned, but even I can't pack this much away,” Cal said, staring at the laden table in shock. “And this stuff won't exactly keep well.”

 

Niko shrugged. “Eat what you feel like and I'll take the rest to a shelter.”

 

He seemed oddly serene about it, and the realization hit Cal suddenly, and for no apparent reason. This spread—this completely unhealthy, very expensive meal—was simply Niko's way of expressing his feelings, of telling Cal without words exactly how glad he was that Cal would be okay.

 

And Cal was feeling generous as a result of the past few days, so he decided he wasn't going to tease his brother about it.

 

Well, not right now, anyway.

 

Grinning, Cal helped himself to the nearest plate and started eating.

 

XXX

 

Sam got about halfway through his plate before coming up for air, to find Dean smiling at him for no apparent reason.

 

“What?” Sam asked slowly, swallowing his bacon.

 

“Nothing,” Dean said, still grinning. “I've just never seen you eat so fast.”

 

Sam shrugged his good shoulder and scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Just hungry.” Better eating than thinking… It was then that he suddenly noticed that the spot on the table in front of Dean was empty. “Uh…why aren't you eating?” he asked. “You don't skip meals.”

 

“Not hungry,” Dean said easily.

 

Sam swallowed another bite and looked curiously at Dean. “I've never seen you not hungry.” When Dean just shrugged, Sam put his fork down and said, “C'mon, Dean, spill. What's going on?”

 

“Can't a guy just be full?” Dean asked, not sounding precisely angry, but more…edgy.

 

Sam looked at him for a long time, then said quietly, “We're broke, aren't we?”

 

For a moment he thought he wasn't going to get an answer, but then Dean said, “I wasn't gonna say anything, but…yeah, a little.”

 

“We're a little broke? How is that possible?”

 

“Well, I don't pay the motel bill `til checkout, but we've already been here long enough to max out any of the credit cards. I've been paying for the food with cash, mostly, but we're almost out of that, too—haven't been able to hit any bars. And then there's…”

 

“My hospital bill,” Sam finished when Dean paused.

 

“Yeah. I figure that's the one I can skip out on if I need to. Dr. Thornton will understand. He understood everything else. That's still so weird to me…” Sam, though, only looked away, and Dean sighed. “Look, don't worry about it, okay? I'll take care of it.”

 

“What, so I'm just baggage now?” Sam snapped, more angrily than he'd meant to. “I'm just supposed to sit here useless while you go around sheltering me from all the big, bad things in the world?”

 

“Sam, no,” Dean said instantly. “That's always how it works. The whole money deal is my thing. Remember? Sammy?”

The last word drained all the fight out of him, and Sam averted his eyes and murmured, “I'm gonna go take a shower.”

 

“Sam…”

 

“I'm fine, Dean. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I just…really need to shower. And brush my teeth.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Let me know if you need any help.”

 

“I think I can shower on my own, Dean.” He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the bathroom, then stopped and turned back. “We'll…try to figure out what to do about the money later, huh?”

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, Sammy. Sure.”

 

XXX

 

“Y'know, I think being shot is my least favorite form of injury,” Cal announced after he was settled back in his bed again.

 

“Do you actually have a favorite?” Niko asked, adjusting the pillows before returning to his chair.

 

“Well, no, but I have a least favorite, and this is it.”

 

“Really? What about that sucking chest wound from two years ago?”

 

“Hey, at least Rafferty took care of that pretty quickly, and there weren't stitches involved. Stitches and stomach wounds take forever to heal. I mean, it's less time for me, but still.”

 

“And here I thought you would relish the opportunity to spend a few days in bed,” Niko said, a glint of real humor appearing for the first time since he and Dean had returned to the motel room and found it empty.

 

“Nah. It's no fun when you don't even have the choice to get up.”

 

“Your mind is strange to me.”

 

“I know. Fun, isn't it.”

 

“You have no idea how much,” Niko said sarcastically.

 

“Hey, Niko, you're not…blaming anyone for this whole thing, are you?” Cal asked, suddenly serious.

 

“That took a turn,” Niko said.

 

“Well, I just…I've been thinking about it, is all, and…you're not, are you?”

 

“Who exactly do you think I would blame?” Niko asked carefully.

 

“Oh, I dunno. Dean? Sam?” A pause. “You?”

 

He knew instantly, from the way Niko's shoulders tensed minutely, that he'd touched a nerve. But Niko sounded calm when he said, “We won't talk about this. I should have been there and I wasn't. I know that at least some part of the fault lies with me. I also know that you disagree and how this conversation is going to end.”

 

“So…basically we're done talking about this,” Cal summarized.

 

“Yes. But…you should know that I hold nothing against Sam or Dean. I owe them your life, in point of fact.” Niko paused for a moment, and then said, as if to himself. “I'll find a way to repay them…somehow.”

 

“Could start with a simple thanks,” Cal said groggily, finally beginning to feel the effects of the pills Niko had given him before putting him back to bed.

 

“Oh, yes, and you're so well-versed with those particular words,” Niko said.

 

“Thanks is one word. And stop being so mean—this is not how you console the injured.”

 

“No, I believe the large doses of strong medication help to do that.”

 

“Mm…good point. Tired…”

 

Niko leaned in closer. “Close your eyes.”

 

“Huh? Nik, `re you tryin' to get fresh with me? Ew.”

 

“Your jokes are more off-color than usual. Close your eyes,” Niko repeated firmly, and with a muted sigh Cal obeyed. “Good boy. And from there it's just one small step to sleep.”

 

“Mm…you're not funny.”

 

“I'm a little funny. Have a good nap.”

 

“`Kay.”

 

Another quiet sigh, and then Cal drifted off. Niko stayed where he was for a few minutes and then, once he was sure Cal was really asleep, left the room and headed for the phone. Without even a moment's hesitation, he picked it up and dialed.

 

“Promise, I need a favor.”

 

XXX

 

“Your turn for the shower.”

 

Dean had been staring fixedly at the table, but at Sam's words he looked up and said, “Kinda random time for a shower, isn't it?”

 

“Dean, you've been through a lot, and believe me, you smell like it. I did—you do. Let's try to make that a thing of the past, okay?”

 

He was smiling, and maybe that was what prompted Dean to get up and head into the bathroom to shower at the crack of noon. He was still smiling when Dean turned back to glance at him, and when he turned away again.

 

The smile didn't start to fade until Dean closed the bathroom door.

 

Sam tossed aside the towel he'd been using to dry his hair and sat down on his bed, then fell onto his back, pillowing his injured arm on his stomach and his head on the other arm, and started at the ceiling.

 

This was…hard. All morning he'd been talking easily to Dean, eating and drinking and smiling when it was appropriate to smile and chuckling when the situation called for it, and he hadn't expected it to be quite this hard.

 

He wasn't even really sure why he was doing it. He knew he didn't have to, knew he could tell his brother anything, and yet he couldn't help but try and lock away everything he was feeling, if only for a little while.

 

But now Dean was out of sight—which, admittedly, they'd both needed desperately—and the lock had broken, sending emotions crashing over him in waves and images pouring through his mind. He saw faces, human faces, human eyes with the life going out of them, human bodies falling at his feet, motionless and bloody and dead.

 

And he saw….Dean. Dean trying to protect him. Dean scared. Dean disappearing in flame. Dean gone.

 

And that was just it. He couldn't take it anymore.

 

He had to get out.

 

XXX

 

Things had been hard lately, so when Dean stepped out of the bathroom and found Sam gone again, he could hardly have been blamed for reacting—well, not like a hunter. He didn't pause to think. He didn't call anyone. He didn't make a plan. Like a civilian, he simply pulled on a shirt and ran out the door, leaving it standing open and yelling his brother's name.

 

He hadn't expected to find his quarry quite so quickly.

 

Sam was sitting on the hood of the Impala, his hands clasped in his lap, his head bowed low. Dean approached him cautiously, unsure whether Sam intentionally leaving the motel room was good or bad, and slowly levered himself up onto the hood.

 

“Sammy?”

 

“I didn't go far.” Sam's voice was quiet, hoarse, and he didn't lift his head. “I didn't want to worry you.”

 

Something in his voice bothered Dean, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. “Sam…”

 

“I…I tried…” Sam choked a little and sounded like he was trying to force the words from a closed throat. “I tried to pretend. I wanted to be okay. I wanted to deal with it like you said.”

 

“You're doing fine, Sam.”

 

“No, I'm not!” Sam snapped. His head swung up, and Dean saw what was making him sound so weird—he was crying. “I'm sucking beyond the telling of it! I feel guilty every second and it hurts. How would you even know? You shouldn't talk about what you don't understand. You've never…you don't have any idea how I…”

 

The rest of his sentence was muffled when Dean put an arm around him and drew him close, and after another moment he broke down completely.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I…”

 

“Shh. I know you didn't. It's okay,” Dean murmured absently, before leaning back slightly so that he could look Sam in the eye. “Listen to me, okay? You need to stop expecting so much of yourself. It's not like we're supposed to react to this in a certain way. I've never done this before, either—we're pretty much in the dark here. Both of us.”

 

“I know, but…”

 

“Shush. You need to know that this isn't about what we do now. This is about you and me, standing side by side, like it always has been and always will be. Just us, okay?”

 

Sam sniffed. “I…I don't know how to forgive myself for this.”

 

Dean smiled gently at him. “I know.”

 

And then he pulled Sam in again, and waited until he could.

 

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Author's Note: I know I made you guys think it would take longer than this for the chapter to come up. Sorry about that—I really didn't think it'd be this easy. But I've had a very productive week. I finished both my papers and wrote this over the last two days—I feel accomplished!

 

So, anyways. This story's turned out to be longer than I'd planned, but it's winding down now. Just the epilogue to come, I think. `Til then, review, please!