The Things that Change Us

Chapter 23

Chapter 23


Dean was still asleep on the couch and Bobby was nowhere to be found when I hit downstairs. I kind of felt like I should go outside and look for him; ask him what I should do next but that was crazy-stupid so instead sat on the armchair and waited for Dean to wake up.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when he opened his eyes, sat up and stretched out his back. Even when he asked me; I just replied 'Not long.' The clock said six thirty-six A.M. as I walked out of my bedroom but that's all I knew. I couldn't even fathom a guess at what time it was now.

'What's the time?' Dean asked me as if he was psychic or something.

'I don't know.'



He gave me one of his looks but then saved me by picking up his phone and turning it on. 'Where's Bobby?'

'I don't know.' I sounded like an imbecile, I was aware, but I really didn't know the answers to these questions. 'He wasn't here when I came down.' I added to make it at least sound as though I had a few brain cells left.

Thankfully I received a nod instead of another glare. His phone sprang to life and told him half the information he required. 'Ten forty.'

'Ten forty?' No way. No way was I down here for that long. Four hours? No way. Maybe an hour tops – maybe two - but four?

'I know. This is the latest I've slept for awhile. But it's also the latest I got to sleep in a long time too. Not really used to this anymore.'

'How was the drive?'

'Long.' He said while massaging his neck. 'Show me this room of yours.'

'Maybe we could fit another bed in here or a mattress or something.' I suggested when he jumped on top of my blankets, swung out his legs and looked around. He seemed like he was in a good mood. 'You know, just until Lisa and Ben come.'

His face dropped which in turn caused mine to. 'Did I say something wrong?'

'No.' he put on a smile for me again. 'Cool room. No clutter. That's the Sammy I know.'

'Well, I don't have much –' God I could say some stupid things sometimes.

'No, I guess you don't. We should go get you some things. Like whatever guys have in their rooms. Get some porn on these bare walls.'

I managed a laugh and leant against the door frame. It was a pretty good feeling having a room in a house all to myself – and my brother if he wanted it; which he didn't really reply to making me wonder why.

'How was Lisa when you told her you were coming?' I asked steering back the conversation to the important stuff.

'Good.' He smiled up at me in typical Dean fashion – which meant something was not right.

'Dude?' I questioned straightening up. I swear if I was the cause of something bad happening between them again, I would scream.

'Good I said.' He stood up and checked through my drawers for I don't know what. Usually I would tell him to stop snooping through my things but for some reason it didn't really worry me this time.

'So when are they coming?'

'They're not.' He turned around. 'Which is fine because that's the way I want it. So,' he said when I opened my mouth to argue the hell out of that, 'there's nothing more to say.'

'But Dean-'

'Sammy, there's nothing more to say, so don't.' His eyes didn't leave mine. 'Okay? Just leave it.'

The last thing I wanted to do was 'just leave it'. In fact I literally had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying another word but he was still fixing me with a full on glare; one that told me big brother had spoken. So I nodded, turned around and stepped down the stairs hoping to find Bobby in the kitchen. He wasn't and I was hungry so I opened the fridge pulled out all the stuff I'd need to make Dean and I some toast and tried, so very hard to shift this guilt that was slowly trying to overtake me.

What had he done? I was sure Lisa would make the move. Positive. I didn't doubt it for one second. Even when Bobby put the possibility in my head I felt like it was all going to be alright; a happy ending for all of us…even a new beginning…but now, it seems it was just more heartache and sacrifice for the one person who didn't deserve it the most.

'So, about yesterday.' I spun around in fright at the voice penetrating through the room but then relaxed when I found Dean pulling out a chair to sit on. I hadn't heard him come down the stairs, hadn't heard him follow me into the kitchen. My senses were all whacked out. Nothing about me was what I used to be. I was a danger to myself - and to others. God, if my dad was here…'Tell me why you freaked out.'

'Hey do you want eggs? Bobby's got eggs.' I asked him wondering exactly what my dad would say about me. Nothing good probably. I was now precisely what he didn't want me to be…but then again, I was always precisely what he didn't want me to be.

'Yeah fine.'

'What kind?' And now I was precisely what Dean didn't want me to be as well – weak.

'Any kind.' I watched him frown. 'So about yesterday?'

'Didn't Bobby fill you in?' I asked grabbing the eggs from the fridge. Scrambled, I decided. Much like my mind.

'He did but I want to know what was going on in your head.'

'Nothin' good.' I had to use them all if I scrambled. Maybe I could grow a pair and actually leave the house to get more later on. Imagine that! Going to a store all by myself. What a man! God.

'You thought he was Lucifer?'

I hoped he didn't see me shake and almost drop three eggs at the word but when he stood and moved over to me, I figured he did. 'Hey, it's okay. We're just talking.'

'Since when do you want to talk?' I asked trying to cool myself down. Suddenly I was burning hot and breaking into a sweat. My hands refused to remain still and my mind was beginning to swirl again. Why? Because my brother said the word? It was just a word.

'Sammy, come and sit down.'

'The eggs-'

'Screw the eggs.'

'But I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry? You must be.'

I felt him grab hold of my arm but wrenched it away too aggressively. 'No!'

'Okay.' He raised his hands in defeat making me feel bad. He was only trying to help me. I knew that but right now I couldn't talk about what he wanted to talk about. Right now I wanted eggs – scrambled – on toast.


'Sammy, do you think we should get you on some medication?' The way those eyes shot back at me destroyed me. My brother loved to think of himself as strong and capable. He wasn't used to being so broken and me even suggesting he turn to pills for help – because I didn't know if I could do it on my own, probably destroyed him as well. And that alone, caused my tears to well as much as it did his.

'How do we get medication Dean? What do I say? I need pills because the devil took me over and I led him all the way to hell, but now I'm back and I'm all totally screwed up? They'd commit me in a second. Or is that what you want?'

'Of course it's not.'

'Bobby can help me.' Even if I can't…that's what he was thinking. 'I, –' He pointed to himself, 'can help me.'

'It was just a question Sam. Just wanted to know if you wanted to try it. Just to get you back on your feet.'

'No! I don't!'

'Okay.' I said to him noticing smoke rising from the toaster. Hopefully it would pop soon and not burn down the whole freaking house. I didn't know whether I should save the toast or save my brother. Either way though this was just going to add another dint to his confidence. 'Sammy, the toast.' I chose to save both. He could at least pop the damn thing and feel a little useful.

'I can't even do this right!' He screamed, throwing the black bread across the room towards the trash.

'Everyone burns toast Sam. Even I have on occasion.' It was meant to be a joke; lighten the mood but when I saw the fire in his eyes, I could see he took it different.

'Where's Bobby?' He asked breaking my own confidence. He wanted Bobby. Not me. Bobby. 'He needs to do this. I can't. I can't do it.'

'Do what?'

'Make frickin scrambled eggs!'

'Of course you can. Don't take one little setback as failure. Just start again.' His hands were shaking and his breathing worried me; it was too fast and too heavy. Bringing up Lucifer and medication in the space of two minutes was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. If only I knew that at the time.

'I can't.'

'You can.'

'I can't!' He moved over to the table where I was sitting and picked up his cell. I decided to watch him – observe him instead of stepping in and ripping the thing out of his shaking hands.

'Bobby, it's me. Can you come home please? Now please?...Thank you. Bye.'

He didn't dare look at me because he knew what I would think about all that. Just placed down the phone and walked over to the front door. I continued to watch him as he opened it, stepped out and closed it behind him. He actually walked out the front to wait for Bobby to come home much like he used to wait for dad when he was a kid. At least Bobby would come though; that was the difference there. And maybe that would help him.

Because right now, I obviously couldn't.

When I sat back in the chair, I rubbed my eyes willing myself not to stand up and follow him. If I did and found him sitting on the stairs just waiting, I think I would either scream or pull down the house nail by nail. Or really; probably both.

Bobby's truck pulled up not ten minutes later. When they stepped in together I realized I hadn't moved and the toast – that I intended to pick up - was still lying on the floor, burnt crumbs and all.

Bobby greeted me with two pats on my back. They were supportive taps but silent ones. I doubted Sam even noticed. I smiled up at him and he gave me a sympathetic glance back, dropping his keys right in front of me. 'So you want eggs?' He turned to Sam and said lightly.

'Yes, please.' He replied standing by the fridge, still not looking at me.

'Okay, so it looks like you were halfway through.' Bobby said once he'd scanned the counter and the stove.

'I was but I can't finish it.'

'Why not?'

'I just can't.'

He nodded but then spotted the toast on the ground. 'What's that doing there?' He peered at Sam who glanced back blankly.


'I'll pick it up.'

'Did you throw it?'

'I'll pick it up.'

'Before you do,' He said stopping my brother in his tracks with mere words, 'did you throw it?'

Sam nodded.

'In temper?'

Again Sam nodded.

'You don't throw things in this house, you understand?'

Another nod. All this was making me feel sick. My brother was twenty-eight years old and here he was being treated like a toddler. And worse; responding like one too. I honestly felt like I was going to throw up, but still, I continued to sit there, transfixed on what was going on around me.

'Pick it up and put it in the trash where it belongs.'

When Sam leant over and did as he was told, Bobby and I exchanged a look. One that said totally different things but one that shared an understanding. He was right in one way; controlling Sam was in fact controlling Sam. And that truly sucked because that told me just how long and bumpy this road was going to be.

'So let's start all this over shall we?'

'Yeah.' Sam said to him.

'Put the bread in the toaster.'

For God's sake.

(To be continued…)

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