Kindred to the Devil

Chapter 21 – The Talk

Dean watched as his brother slowly opened his eyes and then glanced around. The younger boy had been asleep for almost three hours now, and after having restored the room to as much order as he could, Dean had just sat on his bed and waited. He was exhausted and aching, but too wound up to sleep.

He had watched as his brother moved restlessly in his sleep, mumbling incoherently from time to time; his heart had lurched when he'd heard Seth's name wrenched from Sam's lips… and then Peter's. The older boy had considered waking Sam then but as soon as he touched his brother's shoulder, the young hunter had immediately settled, all fear and pain stricken from his face, so Dean had let him continue to sleep; relieved when the next hour of slumber had been peaceful.

"Hey," Sam said softly, carefully pulling himself up to a sitting position and reaching down to rub his ankle. He jumped slightly when a strong gust of wind rattled the small motel room window. It was still raining hard but no longer thundering.

Dean leaned his head back against the wall, silently berating himself. He had forgotten about the limp or else he'd have taken a look at the leg while Sam had been asleep. Oh well, too late now. Opening his eyes, he moved his head so he could see his brother. "Hey yourself."

"The room looks great," Sam complimented, glancing around anywhere but at his brother.

"Yeah, well, anything would be an improvement." Dean stated.

An uncomfortable silence hung between them for a few long minutes as Sam plucked at his still damp clothes. He needed to change.

"So Dad left, huh?" the younger boy finally said.

"Yup."

Sam sighed. Not sure exactly how he felt about that. His emotions were too keyed up anyway to properly deal with that right now. All he did know was that part of him wished his father was still here but another part was glad he was gone, fearing the competition John was when it came to Dean. He changed the subject back.

"I'm sorry about the room – about trashing it and all."

"You wanna tell me now why you just assumed we'd – I'd just leave like that?" Dean pressed, finding an opening and the courage to start this conversation.

"Not really," Sam got up and started to rummage through his bag for something dry to wear as his brother followed his every movement.

"Sam-"

"Drop it Dean, okay? I don't want to talk about it," Sam stripped off the damp shirt and then pulled on a clean one. The muscles in his shoulders ached and he gently massaged them before moving towards the take-out bag to see if there was anything left in it. He was in luck and pulled out a cold breakfast wrap. "You want this?" he checked with Dean first who just shook his head.

"Okay. You don't want to talk about that. Fine. Let's talk about Seth then," he watched his brother tense at the mere mention of their cousin's name. "What happened before I got there?"

Sam paled and quickly put down his half eaten wrap. "Dean-"

"Don't give me that bull that you don't want to talk about that, either. You're going to give me something here, little brother, so it's your choice."

"What for?" the younger boy suddenly lashed out. "You hate these kinds of talks. No chick flick moments remember? Well for once, I'm with you on this, I don't want to talk about it either. Can't we just chalk it up to me having had a shitty twenty-four hours?"

"No," Dean said bluntly, "not when I depend on you to cover my back. I need you back Sammy because right now I'm not liking this unpredictable stranger you've become. You aren't my brother… Not the one I know anyway."

"You're damn right about that," Sam was suddenly yelling as he bolted to his feet. "And I can never be that person again – don't you get it? I'm a fucking 'chosen' Dean. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"No I don't - " Dean fought the urge to get in his brothers face, knowing things would escalate out of control if he did, and the last thing either of them needed right now was to come to blows. "So why don't you tell me Sammy?"

"My name is Sam." His voice was low, and his body actually shook as he tried to control his raging emotions. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

Dean tried again. His voice was soft and imploring. "Please Sam – what happened? What did Seth do?"

Sam shook his head. He looked at his hands and sank back down on the mattress; his anger was gone as quickly as it had come. This time his voice was a mere whisper. "I-I can't tell you Dean, don't you understand that?" he raised his eyes to look at his brother and the older boy sucked in a sharp breath at the amount of shame and self-loathing he saw in them. "You'd hate me." He paused and then admitted, "I hate me."

Dean felt sick. He forced the words, equally soft, "You said he didn't- that he didn't… ah… touch you." His heart pounded loudly in his ears. 'Oh God, no,' his mind screamed, terrified now that Sam had lied to him but his brother shook his head.

"There are worse things than rape," Sam said and before Dean could ask him anything else, the younger boy bolted towards the bathroom and his brother heard him retching again.

Badly shaken by what he had just heard, Dean forced himself to follow.

"Sam?" he said softly as the younger Winchester pushed away from the toilet and sat next to the tub, his long legs curled up underneath him. The position did not look comfortable.

Sighing, Sam gave a small snort. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Would you?" Dean asked, crouching down so that his brother didn't have to look up at him.

"No, probably not," the younger boy agreed. He fixed his brother with a weary look and then just admitted, "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" Dean was confused. This talk with Sam was starting to give him a headache; his brother seemed to be all over the place and they'd barely said anything yet.

"Yeah – over you and Dad. I'm jealous of you guys."

'Ooooh,' understanding dawned. "Why, Sam?" he asked.

"I just," it was hard to admit, "I dunno – I just always feel like an outsider around you and Dad, you know? And then I heard you admit to Dad that I'm not like you guys – so when I came out of the bathroom and you were gone-" he paused and shrugged, "it made sense … You only came to get me to help find Dad, anyway, and since we did, you didn't need me anymore."

Dean was shaking his head before Sam had even finished. Stifling a groan, he moved to sit beside his brother, sliding down until his back was against the tub. "That's not true."

Sam sighed but didn't look at him. "That's how I feel."

"I didn't only come to get you because of Dad," the older boy countered. He glanced at his brother's profile to make sure Sam was listening. "I came to get you because – well because I missed having you around and-" oh god, he was actually admitting this, "and I finally had a good enough excuse for you to come back."

He waited for his brother to say something but Sam just continued to sit there, staring ahead.

"Sammy, you know how much I hate this shit," Dean scowled, "all this touchy feeling crap just doesn't work too well with me." Sam finally looked at him. "But you have to know that even if I don't say it, it doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I-"

"Let me finish," the older boy cut his brother off. His eyes lit on the horrible mark on Sam's face and then traveled upwards to the bullet graze.

Dean wasn't stupid, although the other boy had insisted otherwise, he knew he had done that. He reached out towards his brother's forehead, a bit hesitantly, and touched the mark gently. Sam swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He trembled beneath Dean's fingers.

"You're my little brother, Sam – and that's not something I take lightly… You might feel like an outsider when it's the three of us, but trust me, kiddo, you aren't… No way." Sam opened his eyes and looked into the intense green ones, mere inches away from his face. "You aren't the outsider in our family, you stupid ass. You're the center of it!"

…

"You aren't the outsider in our family, you stupid ass. You're the center of it!"

Dean's words struck a chord with Sam and his chest hitched. Desperate for comfort, Sam turned and burrowed himself into his brother's chest, wrapping himself around the older boy and holding on tight, praying he wouldn't be pushed away.

Caught off guard, Dean briefly stiffened before slipping his arms around the younger boy and returning the embrace, gently but with no less fervor. He wasn't sure what to say and hoped his being here would be enough; his father's words echoed in his mind… Just keep doing what you're doing, and he'll be all right…

'I hope you're right,' he thought and continued to hold on.

After a while, Sam slowly recomposed himself and – almost reluctantly – pulled away. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dean settled back beside him and gave him a small smile. Slowly he got to his feet and extended a hand to his brother. Sam waited a heartbeat and then accepted it, letting his brother pull him to his feet.

"C'mon," the older boy said, moving towards the other room, "there is just something so wrong about hugging your kid brother in a bathroom."

Sam gave a wry smile but followed nonetheless. He watched as Dean sifted through the repacked contents of his duffle, "Sorry about trashing your stuff," he offered sincerely.

Dean snorted, "Yeah well. You should be. However-" he straightened up and looked at the younger boy, "I'll let you off with a warning this time… all things considered."

Nodding his understanding, Sam grabbed his own bag and packed. It was time to leave Julia's Knott.

Ten minutes later, after the younger boy used the last of his college money to pay the motel for damages, the black 1967 Chevy Impala hit the highway. The driver breathed a sigh of relief – it was finally over; the passenger stared out the window, shared his relief, but knew it wasn't…

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

John Winchester stood in the burned out upstairs guestroom in what was left of Jonas Bright's house and frowned. Something about the closet in the room Sam had used bothered him and he could not consciously leave Julia's Knott until he'd checked it out again.

'This can't be good,' he thought. Instead of a prickly sensation at the back of his neck, and air too thin to breathe, there was nothing… only an empty room and an opened closet door. Whatever dark presence had been in the house was gone.

Inspecting the closet, he found nothing. It was just what it was supposed to be… a closet.

As the rain continued to pelt the roof, the hunter reluctantly left the room. He wasn't naive enough to think this didn't mean anything. But as of yet, he just didn't know what.

…

Pulling away from the house, John was only sure of one thing – his family was at the heart of it all.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Dimitrios Gnissios finished the ceremony. He lowered his lips to the still body and feasted.

The darkness watched and waited. And when the man was done… It consumed him.

Corporeal again… it hunted… Its prey already 'chosen'.

-The End-

Well no, its not… more like a pause 'cause I figured the rest of this story needed a new title! Besides Dean has had about as many 'precious' moments as he can tolerate in any one story, lol!

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I update so frequently to get this fix – what can I say? I am shameless!

And to Red for having the courage to beta for me and deal with my neurosis; Thank-you dear friend!

She has graciously said I can post some of her pix from the Supernatural event on my homepage, and I will do so this weekend. I don't have time during weeknights 'cause that is when I write! TTFN!

Love, Phoenix