(no subject)

[hopeitsworthit]

Today has been a shitty day.

A really shitty day made doubly so by all the endless shitty weeks that have come before.

It wouldn't been easier if the demon virus or whateverthefuck it was had been real. Had stuck.

He and Sam could've --

"What the hell are you talking about, dude?"

Sometimes distraction's better than thinking, even if letting himself get distracted by Sam's bullshit is the fastest way back into having to think on the planet.

Still.

Any port in a storm, right?

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"That's what I just asked you, man," Sam grits out. "About last night, remember?"

He knows he does -- Dean's just being evasive, but he's not gonna get away with that crap. Not this time.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

[hopeitsworthit]

What the hell was Dean thinking?

No. No. He ain't going there.

"What I was thinking, Sammy, is that you going down on your lonesome ain't happening."

Fuck that.

Never. You hear that, Dad? Never.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, well, it didn't happen, okay?" he points out. "But that's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah? You wanna tell me what else I know?"

If they're gonna do this sharing and caring bullshit --

Dean's gonna fight Sam all the way.

He's getting good at it.

[gavemea_45]

Sam snaps back,

"No, I want you to tell me!"

[hopeitsworthit]

"You really fucking don't, Sam," Dean says, suddenly even more tired than before.

Who the hell knew that was possible?

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, I do."

He sighs and leans back against the fence. Sam takes a swallow of his beer.

"It's just not like you, okay? I mean, you said you were tired of the job."

[hopeitsworthit]

"So?" Dean says, too-sharp and defensive.

"I thought we were gonna die. You think I was on my game?"

Well, shit.

Way to let that one slip out, Dean. Genius.

[gavemea_45]

"We weren't -- no, no, no, you're not gonna switch the subject on me here."

"You're always on your game, Dean. Yesterday, though ... it was like you were just ready to give up and quit. What the hell's going on with you?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Fuck if I know, Sam."

One of these days deflection's gonna work on Sam.

Today would be a really awesome time for that to kick in.

He buys himself a couple minutes by kicking himself away from the Impala, pacing toward the fence.

"You ever just wanna, I don't know. Get away? Like. Not forever, but just. Take a break for a while? Go see the Grand Canyon or something."

Right. So. He's fucking this up. Dean cracks a smile anyway. He has no idea he looks so lost.

"You know, all this time driving around the country and I've never been."

[gavemea_45]

Sam straightens, looking Dean over carefully.

"You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" he echoes. "Seriously?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean goes after this like a man grabbing onto a lifeboat.

Or a quickly fraying rope.

"Doesn't have to be a giant hole in the ground. There's always T.J., right? Or, I dunno. There's always Hollywood, yeah? Bang Angelina Jolie or -- well. I could take her on. Pretty sure that Charlize chick is more your speed."

[gavemea_45]

He shakes his head.

"Dean, you're not making any sense. What, you want a vacation or something?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"What, don't you? I mean -- "

Dean nips that thought right in the bud. Too bad it's maybe too late.

"Can't we just get a break? Live life a little bit? Who's it gonna hurt?"

Not Sam and Dean, that's for sure.





Right?

[gavemea_45]

"Who's it gonna--"

Only all the people we're not around to help, he doesn't say.

He doesn't need to; Dean knows it as well as he does, which just makes this all the more worrisome.

"-- why are you saying all this stuff?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's mouth curls in something that's too desperate to be a smile, too tired to be a snarl.

He's already turning away from Sam, bracing himself against the fence, looking out.

Looking away.

Even though there's really no escape from being a Winchester. From being Dean.

From doing all this shit.

"Forget it, okay? Just -- we should get going."

[gavemea_45]

"No way, man. Not gonna happen."

With his feet firmly planted on the ground and one hand resting on the top rail of the fence, Sam looks like it'd take a lot to budge him.

"Whatever it is -- look, I'm your brother, Dean. Whatever's got you this worked up, let me help. We'll deal with it together."

[hopeitsworthit]

"I fucking can't," Dean says, low and rough, eyes closed.

"I promised."

And brother or not, if Sam asks who Dean promised, he's gonna deck him.

Hard.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, you can-- hold up, what do you mean, you promised?"

[hopeitsworthit]

There's a flare of temper, but Dean can't hold it.

"What the hell do you think I mean, Sam?"

[gavemea_45]

"Okay, then who? Who'd you promise, Dean?"

He'd be angry, maybe, if he wasn't beginning to be seriously concerned instead.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Dad, okay? Jesus. Dad."

Yeah, that's it.

Dean's done.

"He told me something before -- "

He clenches his jaw.

"You know. Before. And I fucking promised I wouldn't say anything."

And because Dean's not a pussy, he makes himself turn to face his brother.

"To you. Okay? He made me promise not to say anything about it to you."

Three guesses why, and the first two don't count.

[gavemea_45]

Whatever he'd been expecting --

-- well, Sam's not sure what he'd been expecting, but whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't this.

He stares at Dean in shock.

"What?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"What do you think, man?"

He's pissed and he's tired and fuck if he wants to think about any of this shit.

"You know I'm supposed to cover your ass. Keep you safe. Been watching out for you since you were born, you know?"

Fuck if he's gonna cry over it, either.

Fuck that shit.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, I know."

It's been a constant part of their lives for as long as he can remember -- even when their dad hadn't been around, had been off doing more important things, Dean had always been there.

"But -- I mean, he told you that a million times, you know? That's not -- it's not like that's anything new."

[hopeitsworthit]

"I fucking wish it were."

It's harsh, and cutting, and it hurts Dean's throat on the way out.

"It ain't the saving you that's the problem, Sammy."

That's somethin' Dean does as naturally as breathing.

"But he told me if I can't. If -- "







"He told me I'd have to kill you. Can you believe that?"

His voice breaks on that last bit, lip twisting in frustration at his own weaknesses, his own stupidity.

Because Dad or no, that shit ain't happening in a million years.

Fuck it.

[gavemea_45]

"Kill me?"

He can't possibly have heard that right. He can't have.

"Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

Dean doesn't punch Sam. Or the fence.

None of it's gonna help. But damn, he'd sure as hell like to hit something.

"That's what he said, that's what I don't fucking want to think about, that's what -- "

His shoulders sag.

"That's what we've got to go on."

[gavemea_45]

"Well, that's not good enough!"

His shoulders bunch with tension. Sam sets his beer bottle aside on the nearest fencepost, carefully, moving as though he's busy restraining himself from smashing it into the wood instead.

"He's got to have had some sort of reason for telling you that. Did he know the demon's plans for me? What else did he say, Dean?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"That's fucking it, okay. Save you, kill you, I'm gonna have to do one of the two. Not one goddamn word about who, or how, or why. So -- "

This time he does hit the fence, tension leaking away even as he's closing his hands white-knuckled tight.

After a minute he turns to look back at Sam, expression strained.

"I swear, Sammy. That's it. That's what I know."

[gavemea_45]

As hellish as his nightmare visions are, he wishes this was one of them. But no, it's real, and worse than he ever imagined.

Whatever kind of freak he is, whatever's wrong with him that's got a demon gunning for their family, it's bad enough that his own dad thought he might have to be killed just like one of the things they hunt.

His own dad... and his own brother.

"How could you keep this from me?"

He doesn't bother trying to hold back his rising temper. Anger's good.

As long as he can stay angry, he won't have to think about the rest of it.

[hopeitsworthit]

"You think I wanted you to know?"

Because Dean was handling it so well he thought it'd be just a walk in the park for Sam. Yeah. Sure.

Right.

"You think I wanted to know? Wanted to have to think about this all day, every day, for fucking months?"

Who is he kidding?

"God, I wish -- "

He cuts himself off ruthlessly. No. They aren't playing this game. He's not playing it.

Fuck that, too.

He's here, Dad's dead, that's all there is to it. That's how it worked. And Sam's not gonna be next.

No.

[gavemea_45]

He can't look at Dean right now. He just... can't.

He can't stand still, either. Sam turns and stalks a few steps away, then clenches his fists at his sides and glares at the ground, fuming.

"Okay. Okay."

It's not, of course, but they both know that.

"We're just gonna have to figure it out. What's going on. What it all means."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Do we? 'Cause I was thinking -- "

Dean scrubs one hand through his hair, looking at Sam, looking away, then looking back.

The skin between his shoulders is prickling with tension.

"Maybe we lay low for a while. Stay out of the way, keep our asses out of the fire? Just for a little while, you know?"

Just until he can make sure none of this happens, none of this shit touches Sam. Just until then. It can't take long, can it?

"Just until I can make sure none of this -- "

[gavemea_45]

Here's a target, fair or not, and Sam whirls on him.

"None of this happens? You gonna make sure I don't turn evil, Dean? That I don't become some kind of crazy Darkside killer?"

He manages to bite back the rest of it, but just barely.

Where do you think we can go that this won't follow? How the hell do you think I can run away from myself?

[hopeitsworthit]

"Jesus, Sam. I didn't say that!"

He's on the defensive, and he doesn't --

He's never fucking been able to defend himself from Sam. Not ever.

Jesus wept.

"Okay? I'm never gonna say that shit. It's just -- everything's so fuckin' crazy anymore. You're immune to this crazy demon virus, Dad's dead and I'm -- "

He should be the dead one. Dean knows it. Knows it to his bones. And maybe then all this --

Dad would know what to do. He'd have everything under control.

Fuck.

"-- I don't even know. I just. Sam."

He makes himself look at Sam this time, trying for stoic and hitting a solid note of pleading. Goddammit.

"I know you're pissed at me, man. I know. And I deserve it. Just. Please. Can we just take some time to get our shit together, get our heads together, and just -- Can we? Please?"

Just some time. That's all Dean needs. Just a little bit of time.

[gavemea_45]

"Dean--"

As much as he'd like to unleash all his frustration in fury, he can't miss hearing the desperate sound to Dean's words.

And when it comes down to it, his brother's not the one who deserves Sam's real anger -- and the one who does is long gone and way beyond reach.

He sighs, and jerks his head in a reluctant nod.

"Okay. Sure."

It doesn't matter what he says, anyway. Dean's gonna keep stalling like he has been all along, Sam's sure of that.

That doesn't mean he has to.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah, okay," Dean says.

God, if he could just --

"Let's roll."

He doesn't say thank you.