Chapter 10: Dean's Reason
John and Bobby were in the truck, on their way back to Sioux Falls. They had just finished up a routine job and John was dropping Bobby off at the salvage yard. The cab of the truck was quiet until the phone rang. John dug around in the pocket of his coat in an attempt to grab the device and snagged it by the third ring.
"Dad," Dean said, not bothering with a formal greeting. "Get home now."
"If you don't get home, I'm going to kill him."
"Son, what's going on?" John asked, completely confused. Bobby looking at him, worried.
"He beat Sammy. I'm gonna kill 'im."
"Dean, I need you to calm down." John could tell by his son's tone that it was taking a great deal of effort on Dean's part to talk to him instead of shout into the receiver.
"He hurt Sammy."
"Yes, and Sammy needs you. Where are you?"
"At the hospital."
"I want you to stay there. Don't sign Sam out AMA. I'm on my way back to you. Do. Not. Leave. That. Hospital."
"Dean, that's an order. I want you to sit with your brother. Don't leave him. Understand." John knew the only way to keep Dean with his brother and not go and do anything stupid was to give that order.
John hung up the phone.
"Sorry, Bobby. I'm going to need you on this."
"What's going on?" Bobby asked, worried now about the Winchester's youngest.
"Someone's hurt Sam, badly. If I don't get there, Dean just might kill whoever did it."
John turned off at the next exit, so he could turn and head back to his sons. Don't kill him son, John thought. Not until I get there. John was basically white-knuckling the steering wheel heading back to his boys.
Dean sat back down in the chair next to Sam's bed. Sam was still sleep. How could he not have seen this? Not one time did he think to go into the school to see why Sam was always late. How could he just let this happen to his baby brother? It was his job to protect him. Sammy was supposed to have fun this year. Not worry about anything. Not hunting or training. Just going to school. All he wanted was to have a small piece of normal. Was that too much to ask?
Dean got up and walked over to the side of the bed and held Sam's hand. "I'm so sorry, Sammy."
"Get! Out! Of! My! Car!"Tears start flowing from Sam's eyes, "I'm sorry Dean."
"You can take care of yourself. I'll leave you to it."Sam was trying to catch up with Dean, "Please Dean, don't leave."
"Get! Out! Of! My! Car!""I'm sorry Dean, please don't leave," Sam, now fully sobbing. How could he possibly fix this? Dean is angry with him. Please don't be angry with me Dean. I was—I just wanted to...I don't know. Please Dean.
Sam starts moaning in his sleep. Dean looks at him and notices tears forming beneath his brother's closed eyelids.
"Sammy," Dean says quietly. "Come on, Sammy, wake up."
Sam keeps sounding like he wants to talk but it only comes out in moans. The tears start flowing. Dean squeezes his hand to let Sam knows he's near and puts his other hand on the crook of Sam's neck and squeezes gently. He leans over the bed till his mouth is near to Sam's ear so he can give Sam an anchor to come back from the nightmare that he's in. "Wake up, Sammy."
"Please, Dean, don't leave. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. He was going to take me from you. He was going to have you arrested. I'm sorry! Please Dean! Please! Come back." Sam collapses on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself, crying. "I'm sorry, Dean. It's all my fault."
Sam sits up in a jolt, almost hits Dean on the way up, and starts screaming Dean's name. "DEAN! PLEASE, DEAN!" The jolt from Sam startled Dean so that he jumps back a little, letting go of Sam.
"DEAN!" Sam cried, his eyes glazed over like he's not really awake.
Dean is at his side in an instant, and sits on the side of the bed. Jessica, the night nurse on duty, comes running in after hearing Sam's screams. She finds Sam crying hysterically in his brother's arms, but it's like Sam is not even noticing that his brother is holding him. She walks over to the boys with a syringe and vial and starts filling the syringe with a sedative. Dean sees her out of the corner of his eye.
"Don't," Dean says. "Leave it. Jessica, don't."
Jessica looks at Dean stopping just before she puts the needle in the vial.
"Dean," Jessica trying to sound soothing. "It will calm him down."
"I can calm him down," Dean said. "No needles."
Jessica hesitated. She knew her job, but she didn't want to upset Dean when it came to his brother. She heard from the doctor how he calmed his brother down before. "Okay." She put the needle and vial down on the rolling table and turned and walked out of the room.
Dean's focus went back to his sobbing brother. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up." Dean placed one hand on his brother's back and the other one squeezed the back of Sam's neck.
Sam slowly starts to calm down. His full sobbing turns to just short gasps and hiccups, but still he doesn't fully wake. His head is in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean just holds him and keeps saying his name quietly in his ear, calming Sam down. After a few minutes, Sam's breathing evens out and he falls back asleep in Dean's arms. He holds him for a few more minutes and then puts him back down on the bed and covers him up. Dean sighs looking down at his sleeping brother.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy." Dean says.
Jessica walks by Sam's room and notices that it's quiet again. She pokes her head in the room and sees Sam laying in the bed and Dean standing over him.
The next morning, Dean is asleep sitting in the chair next to Sam's bed, and Sam's awake looking at Dean when Jessica comes in for her final rounds before she leaves for the morning.
"'morning Sam," Jessica says. Sam just looks over at her, smiles and then turns back to looking at his brother sleeping in the chair. "Sam."
"Yeah," Sam says not looking at her.
"Sam, look at me." Sam turns his head and looks at Jessica. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Sam says with no feeling, good or bad, behind it. Then he turns his head back towards his brother.
Jessica looks at him and then walks out of the room. Not that Sam noticed or cared. To him as long as his brother was in his line of sight, everything was going to be okay. He didn't like it when Dean was angry with him and those things that were said just feel like a stab in the gut. He just couldn't take it if Dean was angry with him. He wanted to wake Dean up, but he was too scared to. He wanted so much to explain to Dean why he didn't tell him about Mr. Baxter. Why he lied to him. He wanted Dean to understand. He didn't want his brother angry with him.
"Dean," Sam said. "Dean."
Dean began to stir. He stretched his aching muscles from sitting in that chair most of the night. He opens his eyes to see Sam looking at him.
"Hey kiddo," Dean said yawning. "How you feeling?" Dean stands up and stands by the side of the bed. Sam doesn't say anything. Dean looks at him and sees the worry and angst in his brother's face. "Sammy, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry, Dean."
"I know I lied about Mr. Baxter..."
"Sammy, leave it. We'll talk about this when you get out of here." Dean turns to get his jacket when a hand grabs hold of his sleeve and grips it tightly almost taking his skin with it. Dean turns back towards Sam.
"Please," Sam has tears in his eyes. "Please don't leave."
Dean's brow creases. He pries Sam's hand off of him. "Sammy, I'm not going anywhere." Dean drapes his jacket over Sam. He looks down at the jacket and then back up at Dean.
"Stop it, Sam," Dean sits back down in the chair. "It's fine, Sam. Get some rest." Dean puts his head back and closes his eyes.
"I don't want you mad at me," Sam said with tears in his eyes. Dean lifts his head and looks at Sam. "Dean, this isn't like before, please. I don't want you mad at me."
Sam is sitting on the bed of a motel room, alone. Tears streaming down his face, looking at the broken handle of his brother's favorite knife in his hands. He didn't know what to do. There was really no place he could hide it. He couldn't hide it in the duffel bag because they shared it. Sam knew how much Dean valued that knife. It was Mom's knife, he kept saying. On so many occasions, Dean had told Sam not to mess with the knife because the handle was old and worn, and he wanted to try to fix the handle before he would let Sam hold it. But Sam had other plans. He wanted to make his brother a new strap for the amulet that he had given him for Christmas. Everything was working out good until he thought he heard Dean or their Dad coming and he tried to rush and get the knife back where Dean had it. But he fell. The angle in which he had the blade, trying not to cut himself, it broke.
Sam knew that Dean would be home soon, and he had to hide that knife. So he wrapped it in one of his old shirts and put it all the way in the bottom of the shared duffel. He knew he didn't wear the shirt anymore so there would be no need to move it once it was in the bag. After hiding the evidence, he went to the bathroom and washed his face to clean away the traces of tears that were on his face. Once that was done, and he was walking out of the bathroom, the motel door opened and Dean walked in. Sam's heart leapt in his chest but trying his best to hide it from his brother.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean said walking in the room. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Sam said quickly going back to the table to clean up what he was working on.
Dean thought he saw something in Sam. It was almost like he was hiding something. Dean had pretty much been raising Sam since he was a year old. He knew when something was 'not right.'
"Sammy," Dean said. "Look at me."
Sam raised his head and looked at his brother in his best nonchalant face. Dean really couldn't see what was really bothering his brother at first, but when Sam was about to turn back to what he was doing, Dean saw it. His face didn't show traces of it, but his eyes were red looking like he had been crying. Dean walked over to Sam and cupped his face and made him look at him.
"Dean," Sam said. "What are you doing?"
"What's going on?" Dean said fully suspicious that someone was messing with him at school. "Is everything going okay at school?"
"Dean," Sam said getting annoyed. He moved from Dean's grip. "Stop, okay? Everything is fine."
Dean eyed him. And watched his brother walk away from him. He knew that Sam was hiding something from him and he knew he was going to have to find out.
Sam tried to put his best act of the annoyed brother, so he wouldn't arouse Dean's suspicions.
Two weeks later. Sam was pretty much a nervous wreck. Dean knew something was wrong, but Sam kept saying he was fine. Dean knew that Sam wasn't going to be able to keep this up longer so he had to take things into his own hands. He would have to do something that would break his heart just as much as Sam. He had to hurt Sam's feelings. Knowing his brother as well as he did, Dean knew that making him think he was upset, Sam would want to make it right. And whatever was bothering him he would spill. Dean didn't like doing that because it would hurt Sam so badly.
So the next day Dean implemented his plan to hurt Sam. When Sam woke up, he knew he was supposed to get cleaned up, get dressed and be sitting at the table for breakfast. When Sam got to the table, he saw that there was only one breakfast biscuit on the table. Sam looked up and saw Dean was getting ready.
"Uh, Dean, where is my breakfast?" Sam feebly asked. Dean didn't say anything he just walked over to the table, picked up the biscuit that was already on the table and slammed it in front of Sam. He walked off without saying anything to Sam. The slamming of the biscuit made Sam jump a little. He didn't know why Dean was upset, but he knew he was mad. Sam turned and watched his brother get his clothes together.
"Dean," Sam almost whispered out. "You okay?"
Dean looked up at Sam for a second and then turned and walked into the bathroom so that he could get dressed. Now with that, Sam knew that his brother was upset and it was pretty clear that he was angry with him. Sam was literally shaking in the chair trying his best not to cry. So many things were going through his mind, but the one thing that stood out in his mind is maybe he found the knife. Sam's heart dropped in his stomach. Oh no, I hope he didn't find the knife. Please I hope he didn't find that knife, Sam thought. He got up from the table and walked over to the bag.
Dean grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom. His heart broke in half. He hated being mean to Sam, but he knew that it was the only way he could get him to spill what he was so afraid to tell him. It didn't take Dean long to get dress, but he waited on going out of the bathroom because he heard Sam scurrying around in the room. He could tell that he was going to the bag. He waited a few minutes and then he walked out. When he opened the door, he saw Sam digging through the duffel bag feverishly looking for something.
"What are you doing?" Dean said. Sam almost jumped out of his skin. He turned and looked at Dean. Dean walked over to him and grabbed the duffel. He could see that Sam was visibly shaking. So that meant to Dean that whatever it was it had to do something with the bag. He put the bag back down on the bed and faced Sam. Sam was looking at the amulet around Dean's neck. He didn't want to look at Dean and it seemed the safest place to look and not have his expressions betray him.
"N-nothing," Sam said.
Dean picked the duffel back up and walked into the bathroom, closed and locked the door. Sam tried to run after Dean but Dean was still faster than he was and made it to the bathroom first. Sam was pounding on the door as hard as his little fists could hit.
"DEAN, PLEASE," Sam crying hysterically. "DEAN!"
After he locked the door, he turned and leaned his back up against the door, tears flowing from his eyes. He so hated hurting Sam like this, but he had to do this. What broke his heart more was Sam's constant screaming for him. Dean took a deep breath, swallowed, wiped his face with his sleeve and sat down on the bathroom floor. He began thoroughly going through the bag ignoring his brother's cries and screams.
Dean was in the bathroom for about five minutes going through the bag. Sam's tirade, though softer, could still be heard from the other side of the door. Dean went through almost everything in the duffel. He was about to stop when he hand hit something at the very bottom of it. Dean reached in and pulled out the item. It was one of Sam's old t-shirts. He was about to put it down when he felt something hard in the shirt. He opened it and the broken knife fell to the floor with a loud clang. It was loud enough for the banging on the door to stop for a second and then begin again with more gusto. Dean looked down at the broken knife, his favorite knife. His mother's knife. The one he had sneaked back into the house and grabbed after the fire while his Dad, holding a baby Sam, was talking with the fireman. Dean reached over and picked up the broken knife. This is what Sam was shaking about. Dean stood up and unlocked the bathroom door and opened it to a tear-stained face of a baby brother. Dean held out the broken pieces in his hand and just looked at his brother.
"I...I...am...s-sorry...D'n..." cried Sam. Dean dropped the broken knife in front of them and walked away from Sam and went to sit on the bed. He said nothing to Sam. Sam began to cry harder.
"P-please...D'n..." Sam cried turning and facing Dean. Still Dean said nothing. Dean's heart was just breaking. Not because of the knife, but because of his brother. He didn't like it, but he had to teach Sam that he shouldn't need to hide anything from him. That for Dean nothing was more important than his baby brother. Dean looked at his sobbing brother and just opened his arms. Sam looked at his brother, ran and fell into his arms, crying.
"Sammy," Dean said holding his crying brother. "There is nothing that you can't tell me, okay." Sam nodded in the crook of Dean's neck. "Don't keep anything from me, okay. I don't care what it is. There is nothing that is more important to me, then you." The grip around Dean's neck got tighter.
"I'm sorry, D'n" Sam cried in Dean's neck.
"I know, kiddo." Dean said. "No more secrets, okay."
Present Time: 2000
"I don't want you mad at me," Sam said with tears in his eyes. Dean lifts his head and looks at Sam. "Dean, this isn't like before, please. I don't want you mad at me."
"Sammy," Dean said getting back up and standing by the bed. "I'm not mad at you. You know why I had to do this. I can't protect you much less take care of you if you're lying to me. You can't hide things from me. I told you before that you are the most important person I care about."
"But Dean..."Sam said.
"No," Dean said cutting Sam off. "You should have told me about Steven from the beginning."
"I just was trying to protect you."
"Okay, Sammy, listen," Dean said sitting on the side of the bed. "My job is to protect you. Your job is to go to school and fill the geek brain with so much knowledge that you put your teachers to shame." Sam couldn't help but to smile at that. "You wanted a full year at a school. I wanted to make sure that happened. But you didn't have to go through what you went through just to get that year."
"But Dad said if there was a problem he would move us around again," Sam said.
"That didn't mean that you take whatever happens at this school. And anyway what Dad was talking about was that we didn't start anything. You didn't start anything. That asshole did. And if you had come to me and Dad in the beginning you wouldn't be here now."
Sam turned away from Dean. Dean reached out for his chin and turned his head so that he was looking at him.
"Now is not the time to be embarrassed," Dean said. "Just next time, don't hide this from me. The next time someone puts their hands on you, you let me know. Now, are we good?" Sam looked at Dean and then nodded. "Good, now will you drop this and get some rest."
Dean turned and sat back down in the chair.
"Jerk," Sam said, smiling.
Dean put his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, bitch. Go to sleep."