That's just Wrong
Tag: 4.04 Metamorphosis
Summary: Dean realizes he must accept who Sam is, and reality finally hits home; his brother could actually be something he hunts. Limp Sam, Big Brother Dean. A One Shot.
The way you talk to me, the way you look at me, like I'm a freak!" Sam yelled, walking past him.
"I do not," Dean began.
"You know or even worse, like I'm an idiot, like I don't know the difference between right and wrong!"
It was well after 1:00 a.m. when the jet black Impala pulled out on the highway, the car weaving its way out of the subdivision where the Winchesters had just killed the Rugaru. The haunted face of Jack Montgomery sat like a heavy pall over its passengers. Dean's hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel, lips pursed in a tight line, fixed stare out the windshield. Sam sat hunched in the passenger seat, forehead resting against the window, long bangs covering his glistening eyes.
The reality of the last twenty four hours had settled quickly on them both, and the silence that encompassed them was now awkward; memories of harsh words, lies and truths, setting profoundly between them. The certainty of what they had done, what had happened, and what it might mean was overwhelming; and they both struggled silently with their own thoughts. This hunt had been hard, harder than both Winchesters had expected, and recovering from it, well, right now, that just seemed impossible.
Dean promptly rolled the driver's window down, lungs sucking in the cool, damp, night air. The regurgitated words, his words, assaulted him, making his stomach churn.
"If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you."
He let his eyes dart over to the kid, Sam's long bangs covering his face. Dean stared momentarily, eyes soaking in the way his baby brother's chin was quivering slightly, his long fingers clenching and unclenching against his lap.
He needed to fix this, but how? His Sammy had demon's blood coursing through his veins?
He let his eyes tug back to the roadway, his thoughts a million miles away.
...The more people I save the more I can change...my destiny!
The words reverberated in Dean's head, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel.
...watch out for me...no, watch out for me, and if I ever turn into something I'm not...kill me...you're the only one who can do it!
Dean shuddered. What if he couldn't save his brother? He had never let himself think that was possible – not until tonight. What if the boy he had raised to be a man was destined to become evil. He swallowed convulsively.
Sam's tired eyes watched as condensation formed and floated upward on the glass, each breath of air a weary, forlorn effort on his part. His head was throbbing and he grimaced slightly. His entire family gave up everything for him. His father…God, how he missed him. Jess, sweet Jess; he ached for her. Both women he loved burned to death on the ceiling…and now, to find out his grandfather had died at the same hands; the yellow eyed demon. He was having a hard time grasping this new information. His mother was a hunter, she had made a deal. His head was swimming with confusion, doubts, disbelieve. He absently pushed his forehead into the cold glass, hoping it would give his aching head a temporary reprieve.
He trembled and wrapped his long arms around his waist, his body shivering with the chill that slowly crept over him and lingered like a thick blanket. Dean knew about the demons blood. God, his own brother thought he was a monster. His brother, the one he looked up to his whole life, the one who had gone to hell to save him. He was afraid of him, afraid of his diseased blood? He chewed on his lower lip unconsciously, feeling his blood, the evil blood, coursing thickly through his veins. The pounding in his head grew louder, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.
He wheezed in some air, willing it to stop before Dean saw. He was going to turn evil, and he couldn't stop it; just like the Rugaru. He blinked back the tears that threatened to roll unabated down his cheeks, leaning as far as possible into the passenger door. He had struggled so much when Dean was gone; his brother in hell because of him. He blinked harshly, the headlights from the oncoming cars spiking a pain in his head. He had been lost without his brother…utterly lost. He sighed heavily. He had just wanted to do something right, to follow in his Dad's footsteps, he wanted to be like Dean.
He swallowed; the sudden urge to throw up caused saliva to accumulate in his mouth, a low tingle nudging at the back of his tongue. Dean really thought he was evil; that he was a freak?
He suddenly felt bone tired, weary beyond belief. He let his aching head lull against the window as he closed his burning eyes; silent tears etching a path down his drained face. Dean said he would hunt him. Dean said… A cold chill gripped him with his brother's words. He was alone in this…all alone.
He felt the car stop, and heard Dean's voice mumble low beside him, but he was too weary to acknowledge him, or lift his head away from the cold comfort of the glass.
"I'll get us a room." Dean muttered, his eyes darting across the front seat to see the back of Sam's head, his brother leaning profusely against the window. Obviously he's avoiding me.
The older brother waited for a moment, keys jangling in his hand. He hoped for a response from his quiet little brother, when none came; he swung open the driver's door, boots shuffling against the gravel parking lot.
Dean moved promptly into the motel lobby, eyes glancing up as a young kid slipped behind the counter.
"What can I do ya for?" The brown haired teenager asked. He dropped the book he was reading to the countertop, rested his long arms across it, and clasped his fingers tightly together. His large hazel eyes gazed inquisitively at Dean.
"A double, please, for me and my brother." Dean nodded toward the parking lot, and watched as the kid squinted to look out the window at the Impala.
"Sure…buddy." The kid snorted, his eyebrows arching up in a quizzical V, then giving Dean a big eye roll.
"He is my brother." Dean said abruptly.
"Whatever dude…" The smartass kid said.
Dean's face contorted into an angry glare. Why did everyone assume he was gay?
The gangly limbed teen pushed his bangs off his forehead, and grinned. He moved the registration book across the counter top, handing Dean a pen. He reminded Dean of a fifteen year old Sammy, all arms, legs, and long hair; and, he had the same smart ass attitude he remembered from Sam.
Dean felt a warm feeling wash over him, memories of raising Sammy assaulting his fatigued mind. Sam was his brother…for God's sakes, what was he thinking ? There was no way Sammy would go evil – could go evil ; it just wasn't happening. His little brother was the most pure, innocent, and giving person he had ever known. No Way was Sammy turning darkside...ever!
Yanking up the room key from the countertop, Dean's face radiated with a bright florescent smile as he gave the kid in front of him a wink. He had a little brother he needed to talk to.
"Have a good evening," the teen's eyebrows waggled, a large goofy grin rising to his lips.
"Oh, we will." Dean offered up, a low chuckle easing from his throat. Whatever kid, whatever.
He moved hastily out the door, and shuffled swiftly back toward the Impala and Sam.
Dean's knuckle rapped lightly against the passenger window, glass foggy from Sam's breath. His long bangs covered his eyes, as his forehead rested on the cold cloudy glass.
"Rise and shine there kiddo." Dean muffled through the window.
He moved quickly to the trunk, keyed it open, and grabbed out his and Sam's duffle bags, fingers dropping them to the ground. He checked the weapons bag, zipped it, and then yanked it from its position in the trunk.
It was at that exact moment he realized Sam had not gotten out of the car.
Humph, lazy little brothers, making him do all the work.
"Hey SAM , get your ass out of the car , I ain't carrying your bag into the room." Dean said matter of fact. He dropped his hand down and grabbed up the weapons bag, leaving Sam's bag languishing in the dirt.
He shuffled past the passenger window; face squinting in at his brother. Sam had not moved, his facial features still hidden by foggy glass and too long bangs.
His brother had still not moved?
Fear grabbed tightly in Dean's chest, and his eyes grew wide with apprehension. The duffle bags thudded to the ground, as he made three hasty footsteps to the passenger door, yanking the heavy metal open with excessive force. Sam tumbled out to greet him, long legs and arm promptly falling into his older brother.
"Whoa…." Dean said urgently, big brother instincts kicking into full force, his hands whipped up to grasp Sammy by the shoulder blades, easing his body down toward the ground, his butt flopping to the gravel; Sam's head languished limply against Dean's shoulder. What the hell?
The older brother reached his hand up and cupped Sam's cheek, fingers pushing the messy brown mane aside. His eyes immediately spotted the two inch gash at Sam's hairline. Well, shit, how did I miss that? Damn Rugaru - why hadn't Sam said anything?
"You know Sammy," Dean whispered, looking intently at his unconscious little brother, "if you don't quit lying to me, I'm so goanna kick your ass."
He visibly checked Sam for injuries. Bruises... lots of bruises... and a bloody nose; and that large gash that was decorating his pale forehead. Deanlet out a light sigh, happy that Sam seemed to physically be in one piece; emotionally, well, that might be another story.
Dean's fingers patted Sam's pale cheek, soft words easing from his lips, "Wake up Sammy, come one kiddo, time to go inside now."
Sam moaned as his eyes fluttered open, glazed orbs staring blankly up at Dean.
"Hey you," Dean said as he yanked the flashlight from his pocket, shinning it unexpectedly in Sam's face.
"St…stop it," Sam's hand moved immediately to cover his eyes as he flinched sluggishly away from the brightness.
Dean grunted. One pupil dilated, while the other stayed fixed and focused. Concussion, shit!
"Damn it Sam, why didn't you say you hit your head?"
"I d…didn't hit my h…head; Ru...ga…Ru…hit m…my head with the…b…blow torch." Sam's sluggish words stuttered out.
"Owe, that's goanna leave a mark." Dean snickered, and then moved his brother so he rested against his side more comfortably, back braced against the Impala.
Sam struggled to get up, large hands flailing around, pushing against the car and Dean.
"Stop it, Sam!"
"I don't need any…help…" Sam mumbled with anger, brightness suddenly welling in his lids, "Can do it all …myself…a…alone."
Dean's firm fingers grasped Sam tightly, tugging him back against his chest. "You could, but I won't let you." Dean said firmly.
"What…" Sam muttered, still trying to pull away from Dean's firm hold. What? I'm evil; you don't want to help me…
"Just rest a second Sam, okay." He pushed Sam's forehead back against his chest, Sam fighting him all the way. He rested his chin a top his little brother's messy hair, strong arms unrelenting. "Just breath Sammy, okay, just breath a minute."
They sat silently, damp gravel soaking into both men's jeans.
Dean held on securely, and listened as Sam's anxious breathing leveled off, his attempts to escape dwindled, and he finally began to relax against his big brother.
It was then he heard a low whisper, barely audible, falling to his ears.
"I'm evil Dean." Sam's voice hitched as the three words escaped his lips.
Dean could feel the light shudders wracking his little brother's body; feel the tears as they dropped slowly against his own arm. He held on tighter.
"No Sam, you're not evil, you've never been evil, and you're not going to be evil." Dean's voice was sure and firm.
"But…you…you said you would…would hunt me." Sam hiccupped out between the tears.
"No Sammy, I said , "If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you. But, I know you Sammy. You are my boy, the man I raised from the time he was six months old. I know you, and you are not turning evil. You will always be my Sammy , and nothing about that has changed ."
Tears tugged at Dean's own eyelids and he blinked hard, one hand reaching up and brushing lightly through Sam's hair, caressing it like he did when Sam was a little boy, clinging to him for reassurance.
Sam didn't protest, or pull away, simply languished in the comforting feeling of Dean's motions, his secure words.
"So…you don't think…think I'll turn evil?" Sam asked curiously as he swiped his hand against his damp cheeks.
"No Sam, that's just wrong. I raised you, it's not happening. Sides, I'm here now, and I won't let anything bad happen to you."
Sam smiled, the words he had heard his entire life settling in against him, warming him to the very core. Although he knew the words might not be true, as Dean had tried this all before, it still made him feel better. The words he missed so much when Dean had gone to hell; the words he thought he would never hear again. He nodded his head slowly, forehead bouncing lightly up against Dean's chin.
A door creaked in the distance, a sharp, and smartass tone echoing through the darkness.
"Hey, you two lovebirds, you going in the room or what?" The self-satisfied teenager yelled from the motel lobby doorway, eyes wide in amazement, cocky grin decorating his lips.
Dean rolled his eyes, "Come on, Sammy, let's get you inside."
"Lovebirds?" Sam whispered, confused, damp eyes darting up to Dean.
"Kid's a freak." Dean muttered, shaking his head.
Dean tugged Sam to his feet, the concussed hunter swaying lightly, then, leaning heavily against his big brother.
"So, I'm not a freak?" Sam asked meekly as they shuffled slowly toward the motel room door.
"Oh, I never said that…" Dean laughed, fingers gripping the hand he held securely around his neck tighter.
The knot in Sam's gut eased, as he felt his brother's acceptance and love for him radiate around him.
Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Sam's lips quivered at the edges, and then, a slow smile curled up on the kid's face.
Dean smiled, and shoved them both through the doorway.