Chapter Seven:

During the entirety of the drive to Pastor Jim's home, Sam hasn't said a single word to his big brother; neither has Dean to Sam. Neither of them had anything to say to each other--and even if they had, neither of them knew where to start and how to go about saying what they had to say to the other. But the drive wasn't without the brothers tossing the other sneaky glances before their gazes would return to their respective temporary homes---Sam towards the patches of scenery outside his side of the window--and Dean, the road ahead of them.

Dean, he never felt as sore before as how he is feeling at the moment; it was like his insides were being clawed out with something really sharp, ripped out of him just as carelessly and then put in a meat grinder for the finale. He is very well aware that he hurt Sam. He hurt his little brother with his very own hands; and it may not have been the same way his dad has done it those two times he laid hands on the kid, but in some crazy way, it still equals to the same thing. Sam was hurt as a direct result. The older boy could not and would not forgive himself for being careless. Doesn't matter how hard one part of him was apologizing to the other, explaining things so as to be understood, to justify the act---but so far, the remaining other part was not listening.

Plain and simple, Dean is hurting. But then again, so was Sam.

Sam, as he sat there watching his big brother all tensed-up and quiet; he felt like reaching over and grabbing the wheel just so he would have an excuse in not reaching Pastor Jim's. The kid was thinking that should they get into an accident should he enable causing the accident himself, that that in itself would be reason enough to divert them from their goal destination which is their pastor friend's home---and he wants that more than anything at the moment; 'Well second to wanting to stay with Dean anyway...' Sam thought to himself. And then eyes find Dean's side of the face again. The kid felt sore. His hand reaches up his head, his hand connected with the wound up there. As he was about to speak up and tell Dean that the wound had somehow closed-up and disappeared or has come off--that was when his hand on his lap gets a swat from the driver. "Ow, Dean!" he growls, slapping his big brother on the arm in retaliation; but neither the swatting or the slapping were venomous. More like playful bantering in a different form. "What was that all about--you bully?" he turns to Dean with an incredulous questioning look on his face. Dean faced him for a quick second before turning his focus back to his driving.

"Hands off the head, bitch!" he says.

"Hey, last time I checked it's my head!" Sam spat, "I can pretty much do anything to it and there is nothing you can do about it! And it's not like you're gonna be around long enough later to stop me when you've dropped me off at Pastor Jim's anyways! I could take it off altogether and what can you do about it by then?"

"Yeah?" Dean challenges. "That so?"

"Yeah!" Sam snorts, "For all you know, I could just take this stupid bandage off altogether later when I get there---after you've left! What do you think you can do about it then, mister? It's not like you're gonna be there to stop me!" he baits Dean again.

"I could be!"

"Really?" Sam's voice turns hopeful excited as he swivels in his seat to face Dean. "You're not just gonna drop me off now? You're staying with me? To you know--make sure I don't take the bandage off?"

Dean was forcing himself not to laugh; his baby brother's petulance just doesn't get old with him.

"Sam---" he starts but the kid cuts him off.

"Dean, I don't want to be there by myself, man..." Sam says sadly.

"Who says you're gonna be anyways?" Dean says, "Pastor Jim's gonna be around. It's his house."

"Dean, you said it yourself--it's gonna be boring as hell without you there with me. Please, please? Don't leave me there by myself?" Sam pleads, "Or what if--what if Pastor Jim turns out to be an alien--or a...a monster--no wait, something scarier. What if he turns out to be a vampire--a vampire! Yes, a vamp, and then he sucks my blood, Dean. All of it. What will you have done by then when you've come back later on and I'm gone? And not just gone-gone. I mean, dead--gone. I'm dead..."

That may have been something amusing, but when Sam said the last part--it made Dean's chest hurt. But he doesn't let it show.

"Murphy? A vampire?" Dean snorts. "Good one, Sam. We both know vampires is just about as real as Santa."

"Deeeean...come on? I am trying to milk for sympathy here..."

"Sam, it's not like I want to leave you here, you know?"

"Well you could have fooled me." Sam mutters like he used to way back when he was 12 and he wanted to tag along to a party but since Dean's girl was coming along, he couldn't .”If I didn’t know any better I think you’ve been wanting to get rid of me for a long time now. Dean. And this is your chance to do that.”

“Okay, you got me.” Dean says resolutely, “Didn’t think you’d be that smart to figure it out, but I was wrong.” He says, “I’m busted. I have been wanting to get rid of your ass for years now. I hate you like I hate bologna" he says."Since the second day you came home from the hospital. When I first saw you, sure I was all excited and stuff. But then the next day--I wanted to get rid of you already. And now, a century later, is that chance I have been waiting for, so I am taking it. I'm not coming back for you anymore. I'll make up something lame to mom and dad how come I'm alone and they'll buy it. ”

Sam tosses him a big spoiled-brat pout that isn’t going to work for just any 18 year old. But since he is not JUST any 18 year old, he pulls it off clean. The pout worked.

“Sammy, you know why I’m dropping you off at Murphy’s, kiddo. And it’s not what you’re thinking, alright? You know I’d never do that----get rid of you—not gonna happen in---EVER, alright? I just need to be by myself for awhile. I need this, Sam. To think things through. To---to learn from my mistake..”

“Mistake? What are you talking about Dean? Is it this again?” Sam says, reaching up for the wound on his head, back of the head courtesy of Dean.

“Sammy, it is eating me like you wouldn’t believe alright?”

“Dean, do you think this isn’t eating me up too inside—seeing you punishing yourself like this? Over what?” Sam snipes, “So you pushed me a little harder than you intended, I bust my head, so what?” he says, “That doesn’t make you any less my big brother, Dean! What does will be if you went on and left me at Pastor Jim’s. I mean it, man. If you leave me there and you take off on me---”

Sam doesn’t even get to finish what he intended to say just then. At the remark, Dean pulls over to the side of the dark dirt road that led to Pastor Jim Murphy’s home 5 miles ahead. His eyes toss darts towards Sam. And then with a huff he gets off the car, slamming the door behind him. Sam could just sit there, also huffing. But at the same time, he was entertaining fear.

It was already dark. He caught 8pm on his watch when his eyes shifted to check it. ‘Pastor Jim ust have already left by now..’ Sam thought, his eyes strained to find the good pastor’s vehicle by his house, but it wasn’t there anymore; confirming the boy’s earlier guess.

And then, his eyes looks over his shoulder as he sat there in the car, alone. He could see Dean walking away when he swiveled in his seat, the older boy was following the dirt road back to the direction they came from earlier. Sam immediately got off the car. He would have wanted to go after his brother but since he knew that would be a bad idea with Dean hopping mad at the moment---he instead got back into the car and waited for Dean there.

If there is one thing Sam knows for sure in his life, it is that Dean would never ever choose to leave him. He is as sure of that fact right there as he knows for sure how much his big brother loves him. Sure Dean would walk out on him sometimes but it wasn’t for long. He always comes back. Always.

It just is a fact of life. And as if Dean was proving it to him, it wasn’t half an hour later when Sam saw his big brother’s form coming from the direction he saw him disappear to earlier. The kid lets out the breath he was holding in for a long time at the sight of the older boy.

Dean finds his way behind the wheel. He didn’t talk right away. It was more or less a couple of minutes later when he did; and he doesn’t even turn to face Sam.

“ Sam----” Dean starts.

“Yeah, Dean…” the kid says meekly.

“---I want you to do me a favor.”

“…what is it?”

This time Dean turns to him, and he looks serious as cancer.

“Don’t ever challenge me again like that, you hear?” Dean says. Sam nodded.

“Anything you say, Dean.”

“Good then.” He says, he then starts the engine and before long they are en route to Jim Murphy’s house again. When they got there, Dean got out the same time Sam did. He even takes the duffel from the kid and carries it for him. Of course Sam wanted to object to that, but since he didn’t want to give Dean any more grief, not when they had just averted a major blow out earlier; and especially not before they are to separate. And for how long---Sam could only groan inside. Dean, with Sam’s duffel over his one shoulder, knocks on the front door. Sam beside him.

“Pastor Jim—“ he calls out.

“His car isn’t at the garage, Dean.” Sam pointed out.”Maybe he already left for the service.”

“Maybe. We got here pretty late.” Dean replies, looking into the window.

“I’ll just wait for him to get back, man.” Sam says, reaching for his duffel from Dean. “I’ll just stay out here. You can go now.”

Dean doesn’t say anything but he does give Sam a blank look as he goes down the steps back to the car. Sam sighs heavily to that. ‘He’s still too upset to even say his proper goodbyes…’ the kid says to himself dejectedly. He was expecting to hear the roaring of the engine any second then since he already heard Dean’s driver side door open. ‘This sucks!’

And then to his surprise, as his back was turned just then, he instead of the engine, hears the door open again. When he turns around, he sees Dean coming up the steps with his duffel over his shoulder.

“Alright, alright—enough with the creepy grin, Sam!” Dean spat in reference to the happy, surprised look on his younger brother’s face.

“You’re staying with me?”

“Just until you’ve settled yourself in in there.” Dean says, “But tomorrow, I’m taking off for my needed time-out, you hear? And you’re letting me.”

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, man!” Sam says happily.

It was already 10pm. But still no Jim Murphy. The brothers, for the time being both find themselves at one end of the porch; at the corner, and since there were no furniture out there like they have at their house, they are on the floor instead, sitting there next to each other. For the past hour or so, they have been talking themselves silly. Just having a blast hanging out like they normally did at home. Telling jokes, memories and childish secrets they would just remember from out of nowhere. It was a great night.

And then as unlikely for snow to fall in the Sahara, it happened. They heard gunshots coming from a distance. Dean orders Sam to stay down as he carefully extends his gaze towards the direction from where they guessed it had come from. Another shot filled the air—Sam grabs Dean back down at this.

“What the hell---“ Dean gruntles.

And then they hear long after that, four men appear scrambling up the porch steps just as the brothers are getting up to their feet, with Dean keeping Sam behind him the entire time. His eyes wander to the guys’ faces; they all looked like they were up to no-good and judging by the guns they are carrying, and one of them all bloody on the arm; it was a pretty good assesment on his part.

He then suddenly felt cold and scared at the same time, Dean, not out of cowardice at the face of danger; it was more after the thought hit him. The thought that mainly revolves around a big ‘What if’. What if he took off and left Sam earlier? That would have meant leaving his baby brother by himself to handle these bastards alone---and that right there, scared him like he had already lost Sam.