(no subject)

[hopeitsworthit]

They didn’t speak in the car or when they got back to the hotel. They just came in, exhausted and silent, and prepared to sleep.

Dean was in the shower a long time, letting the hot water run across the light spattering of bruises on his chest caused by the rock salt. The rock salt Sam shot him with.

“It’s all yours,” was all he said when he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, holding his clothes to his chest so Sam couldn’t see the markings.

Sam went into the bathroom and Dean pulled on his black boxers, tossing his clothes in a small pile in a corner of the room, and climbed into bed.

He lied there, his eyes closed, not really sleeping and at some point, he’s not sure how long it’d been, Sam came out of the bathroom, but Dean didn’t look or say anything, he just feigned sleep. It’s easier that way.

Sam dressed—Dean could hear it—and gets into bed as well and Dean’s unsure, but he thought he hears Sam whisper, “Goodnight,” followed by an even lower “I’m sorry.”

x x x

Dean can’t seem to wake up from the dream he keeps having:

He’s back in the asylum, and Sam’s above him, the gun pointed in his face, and when Dean yells at him this time, there’s only a deafening bang and then there’s a hole in Dean’s throat and he can’t breathe and his ears are ringing and somewhere beyond that, faint in the background, is what sounds like a phone ringing.

Dean doesn’t wake.

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Dean," Sam grunts, but doesn't get the phone himself because just a second ago Jess was smiling at him, smiling with her lovely golden eyes, and there was a fire, but the fire smelled sort of funny and earlier, something had exploded. Maybe if he falls back asleep right now he can catch her.

[hopeitsworthit]

The ringing, both in his ears and beyond, continues, and the blood keeps coming out of a hole in his throat and Sam's above him, blood pouring from his nose and Dean just stares, unable to move and he opens his mouth to speak but nothing but stagnant air, hot like steam, floats out.

Sam just stares.

[gavemea_45]

He caught her, but she doesn't want him. Go on, Sammy, Jess tells him, and smiles again, leaning forward to take the gun out of his lap. I'll be here when you get back. Clink go her pockets, and she's got bullets in her hand now, reaches into the fire to come out with a vicious-looking knife that's oh so familiar, because he's borrowed it on more than a few occasions, and oh shit.

"Dean!" It's louder this time, or at least he's trying to make it louder.

[hopeitsworthit]

Sam still bleeds, his mouth doesn't move, but Dean can hear Sam saying his name and he reaches a hand out, reaching toward his brother for help, but Sam does nothing. He just stands there, his eyes black pools of hate and his nose still bleeding, running down the front of his shirt now and Dean is drowning in his own blood as it flows from the hole in his throat.

He can still hear the ringing.

[gavemea_45]

Go on, she says, loading the gun carefully. He won't be ready for a while -- with a gesture at the fire and Sam thinks he might throw up -- and there's nothing better to do out here anyway. But he doesn't want to go, and he tries to say, but all that comes out of his mouth is the sound of an empty chamber firing, and then Jess sighs and reaches for the knife. Go, and she's got it an inch away from his throat.

"Hello?" It's groggy; he's confused.

"Sam, is that you?"

He's wide awake now, sitting straight up in the bed. "Dad? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn’t know where you were, if you were okay --"

"Sammy, I'm all right. What about you and Dean?"

"We're fine." As fine as we ever are.

[hopeitsworthit]

Sam aims the gun at Dean again and even though his mouth isn't moving, Dean can faintly hear Sam talking. He can only make out a few words: 'hurt' and 'looking' and he stirs, waking up when Sam pulls the trigger again. And then he hears it:

"Dad, where are you?" Sam's voice is frantic, raspy with sleep.

Den stops mid stretch and raises himself up on one elbow, leaning toward Sam's bed.

He can't hear Dad's side of the conversation, he's just going by Sam's reactions, staring open mouthed at the cell phone.

[gavemea_45]

"Sorry, kiddo. I can't tell you that."

"What? Why not?" He's lying, he's hurt, he's caught, he's ... shit.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean keeps staring.

"Is that dad?"

He already knows the answer.

[gavemea_45]

Sam ignores Dean; is this any great surprise?

"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You're just ... you're gonna have to trust me on this."

"You're after it, aren’t you," and his voice is almost flat as he realizes. "The thing that killed Mom."

"Yeah. It's a demon, Sam."

"A demon? You know for sure?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's sitting up now, reaching over, looking for a shirt.

"A demon? What's he saying?"

[gavemea_45]

"I do. Listen, Sammy, I, uh." Pause. "I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I’m so sorry. I would have done anything to protect you from that."

Sam ignores that. Can't deal with it now. "You know where it is?"

"Yeah, I think I'm finally closing in on him."

"Let us help." Please.

"You can't. You can't be any part of it."

"Why not?" Confused, now.

[hopeitsworthit]

His shirt on now, he's on the edge of his own bed, still staring. He puts his hand out. "Give me the phone."

[gavemea_45]

"Listen, Sammy, that’s why I’m calling. You and your brother, you have to stop looking for me. Right now, I need you to write down these names --"

"Names? What names?" You've gotta be kidding me. "Dad, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"Look, we don’t have time for this," says John, and his voice has changed, and he's Marine Dad again. "This is bigger'n you think. They’re everywhere. Even us talking right now, it's -- it's not safe."

"No, all right? No way."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Give me the phone," Dean says, more demanding, his hand still outstretched, waiting.

[gavemea_45]

"I've given you an order. Now you stop following me and you do your job, you understand me?" Pause, but it's not like Sam could say anything anyway because he's seething and it's not a doctor doing it, it's just Dad again god damn it. "Now, take down these names."

Dean snatches the phone out of his hand right then, and it's a lucky thing because otherwise Sam might have crushed the phone.

[hopeitsworthit]

He grabs the phone, sick of waiting, and holds it to his ear.

"Dad? It's me, where are you?" Fear and worry and panic are all fighting to be dominant in Dean's voice, but they all come out at once.

"Listen to me, Dean, you and Sam have got to stop following me, that's an order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." He swallows hard, the fear gone, replaced by obedience.

"Now I need you to take down these names, alright? Have you got a pen?"

He looks around on the bedside table. "Uh, yeah, I got a pen. Who're the names?"

His father gives him the names; Dean writes them down without question.

[gavemea_45]

Sam turns his head to watch Dean; as the conversation progresses his jaw clenches tighter and tighter, and he forgets to blink.

And then Dean writes the names down, doesn't ask one thing about them besides how they're spelled, and Sam thinks this is why I left.

Dean hangs up, starts getting his things together. Sam does the same, and says nothing, nothing at all.