I’m Sorry

By supernaturaldh

Tag to Lucifer Rising – Spoiler Alert

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. You guys are the best. Sorry, but I can only seem to post a chapter a week. It’s not from lack of trying; life just seems to be getting in the way!!

Beta: You are in a beta free zone, so be nice.

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW.

Chapter Twelve

Dean reaches over and grips Sam’s good arm helping his wobbly brother to set up higher on the couch. The blanket covering Sam’s long legs tumbles to the floor. Dean lifts his eyes, his chin tucking tightly to his chest, shielding his face from Sam’s. His deep green eyes are the window to his soul, and he knows they will reveal something he isn’t ready for Sam to see yet. The older brother clears his throat uncomfortably; he knows he’s stalling for time. God, I don’t want to do this.

“What about Jess?” Sam’s voice quivers out in a low whisper, his heart thudding loudly against chest. He stares blankly at his older brother.

“Hey kiddo, do you remember that the doctor said you lost some of your memories?” Dean grips one hand firmly against one of Sam’s kneecaps as he gazes at the floor.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam looks curious and afraid all at the same time, wide hazel eyes looking at Dean like when he's five years old, wanting Dean to make it all better. “What about Jess?” he asks softly as the color drains slowly from his face.

“Sam,” Dean raises his head, looking at his little brother’s face. He knows Sam can see the hurt and pain in his clear green orbs, knows he’s scaring his little brother. Just say it, get it over with… “Sammy, Jessica’s dead.” His hand squeezes Sam’s kneecap tightly, attempting to ground Sam to him, keep him close.

Sam’s head shakes slowly back and forth as he suck in a gasp of air, “No, no, no Dean, she’s at school, I….I….we…we left her there, remember? You came and got me, so we could go find Dad.”

Dean reaches both hands up and grabs Sam by the forearms. “Sammy,” he says gently as he looks him directly in the eye, “She died three years ago, in a fire - Just like mom.”

Sam looks crushed, grief suddenly seeming to overcome him; his huge eyes stare questioningly at Dean. Suddenly, he pushes away, struggles to break free of his brother grip. He succeeds and his shaky arms wind mill him backwards as he scoots across the couch. I don’t want to hear this. “No, Dean, no, that’s not right,” he states angrily.

Dean watches in shock, not sure what to do for Sam.

Large tears form quickly in Sam’s eyes. Why are you lying to me…why…why? Why Sam, why? Suddenly, a flash of memory crashes over him like a wave and quickly pulls him under. His pupils constrict as his vision blurs, and he can’t seem to get in any air. All he sees now is Jess - pinned to the ceiling of their apartment, whispering, why Sam, why Sam, over and over and over. His butt drops abruptly to the floor as he flounders to get away from his thoughts, from the picture inside his head. No, this can’t be right, no, no, no, no, no.

Dean recognizes Sam is going into shock, his brothers eyes have constricted, and his breath is in short unstable gasps. Perspiration has suddenly appeared on Sam’s pale unbelieving face.

“Sam…” Dean grabs for the flailing arms pulling Sam’s uncooperative body back up against the couch, “Easy kiddo, its okay.” He glances at his brother’s unresponsive face. He tugs Sam into a hug, but Sam fights against him, still struggling to break free from his nightmare.

“Easy Sammy, calm down, its okay, just breath, I gotcha,” Dean’s strong arms fold around his brother, pulling him close, holding him firmly up against his chest. The kid’s body shakes uncontrollably from the realization of the truth, a memory Dean realizes he doesn’t want to have.

Sam shudders, he remembers it all now, coming home to Jess, telling Dean good bye, and then seeing Jessica on the ceiling, burning…flames licking at her skin, blood dripping on his face. Oh God, no…

“NO, No, no,” Sam whimpers as tears cascade quickly down his face, his entire body quivering with unrelenting sorrow. He buries his face against his brother’s chest, fingers pulling and tugging the material of Dean’s tee shirt, barely hanging on to reality.

Dean tucks his little brother’s head beneath his chin, his gentle hand gripping Sam at the nap of his neck, pressing him firmly against his chest. Brown wayward hair tickles his chin just like when Sam was a child. He rocks gently to and fro. “Its okay kiddo, it’ll be okay,” he whispers gently against the side of Sam’s damp face. The tears well up in his green eyes as the memories of the day Jess died assault him and hold him captive with a vengeance. I wish it wasn’t true. Sam, I wish it wasn’t true.

And Sam cries harder, chest heaving to gulp in air as his world seems to crash in down around him.

-0-

Castiel is setting quietly at the kitchen table with Bobby trying to act like they aren’t listening to what’s going on in the living room. It’s breaking Bobby’s heart to listen to Sam’s heaving sobs as he remembers what happened to his girlfriend. Castiel doesn’t really look too comfortable with it either.

“Want some more coffee,” the tired hunter asks as he stands and grabs the pot.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Castiel nods and watches Bobby refill his cup. “We need to leave here today,” the angel says informatively. “Lucifer is leaving a path of destruction, and we have to find him.”

“Dean knows that, but we needed to tie up these loose ends with Sam.” Bobby slumps back against the chair, chewing incessantly on his lower lip as he purposely ease drops on the other room. Sam sounds pitiful…Jesus, I hate this.

“It will be hard for Sam,” the angel says sympathetically.

Bobby grimaces. This is just crap. He frowns, and gulps down a swig of his coffee, fingers gripping the well worn cup tightly in his hand. Can’t anyone cut the Winchesters a break once and a while?

Castiel nods slowly, “God is aware Bobby Singer.”

Bobby looks up wide eyed at the angel. Shit. “Stop reading my mind,” he spits out heatedly.

The messenger of God smiles minutely, and then pulls the piping hot cup of coffee up against his lips. He knows that Dean has to tell Sam at least some of what he’s lost, but he isn’t really sure how much the older brother is letting out of the bag. It would be better if Sam’s memories come on his own… He remembers the conversation he had with Dean, knows the older brother will do what is best for Sam. He also realizes that no matter what he tells Dean, what his advice is, Dean has decided that Sam is coming with them. Although Castiel doesn’t agree, he knows it doesn’t matter. He worries though, Sam has demon blood flowing through his veins, and Lucifer knows that. He will be looking for Sam, trying to pull him back into the fold.

“We will all have to watch out for Sam.” Castiel says hauntingly as he pushes away from the table.

Bobby’s head rises to stare questioningly at the angel.

“Lucifer will want him back.” And with those words, Castiel moves toward the door. He turns, blue eyes gleaming intently at Bobby Singer’s face. “I’ll be waiting, please tell Dean to yell for me when he’s ready to go.”

Bobby watches as the angel leaves the room, the back door banging harshly in his wake. Dean yelling for an angel – amazing. He drops his face into his open hands and sighs. I’m not sure going after Lucifer with Sam in tow is the best thing we could be doing. He knows it’s a futile argument. Dean is going to bring Sam with him, end of story.

-0-

Sam’s stopped crying now, his body too worn out to do anything but lean against his older brother. Dean’s still wrapped around him, holding him close and cooing lightly in his ear.

“Shush, its okay Sammy.”

Dean doesn’t know how long they have been sitting like this, wrapped tightly up together while Sam tries to comprehend what his brother has just told him, that his girlfriend, his Jess, is dead. His brother has stopped crying so hard, just twitching slightly in Dean’s grasp. The only sounds are the muffled voices in the other room and Sam’s hiccupping breath.

“Dean,” the younger brother whispers so low that Dean almost doesn’t hear.

Dean tilts his head and pushes away slightly. His head bows down to look in Sam’s unfocused eyes.

“Dad,” Sam’s voice quivers, “Is he?” I know the answer, I remember …

Grief is strange, all the hurt and pain rolls back over Dean as if their Dad had died again today. Fresh tears well up in his own eyes as he looks at Sam’s distraught face, “Yes, Sammy,” he says sadly, “Dad’s dead too.”

7