Title: One More Lie
Author: Alice I
Spoilers: Sex and Violence
Summary: The end of the episode Sex and Violence needed another scene. This is what I see in my head.
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic, but not the first fan fic I have written. As a matter of fact some of my steady readers will probably be a little miffed that I wrote this when I should be finishing my current WIP. Sorry, guys, I couldn't help it. This danged thing just kept popping up so I wrote it to get it out of my head.
One More Lie
Dean was glad to put Bedford, Iowa in his rear-view, but he was sure that it wasn't behind them. He and Sam had driven in silence for three hours, both men consumed with their own thoughts. Dean replayed their last conversation in his head wishing he could believe Sam's words.
'Dean, look, you know I didn't really mean the things I said back there, right? ...That it was just the siren's spell talking?'
'Of course, me too.'
'Okay, so... so we're good?'
'Yeah, we're good.'
The problem was they weren't good, not by a long shot. As much as he desperately wanted to believe Sam, that the things his brother had said were not the way he really felt, he couldn't. Dean couldn't believe Sam because he had lied himself. 'Of course, me too.' That was not even remotely true. The things he said to Sam back there in the hotel room ran through his mind, and they had the distinct ring of truth.
'I don't know when it happened;
maybe when I was in hell,
maybe when I was staring right at you,
but the Sam I knew; he's gone.
It's not the demon blood or the psychic crap.
It's the little stuff, the lies, the secrets.'
Dean hated himself for saying those things, but it didn't change the fact that he meant them. He had been feeling distrustful of Sam ever since Castiel took him back in time; took him to the beginning and he found out what Sam had known all along. The feelings of betrayal, and mistrust had grown steadily. The fact that he went to hell for Sam, and yet his brother still wouldn't tell him things, important things, things he had a right to know; things he should have known before he sacrificed his soul. It felt like a knife in his heart.
'We used to be doing this together;
we used to have each other's backs!'
Sam's reply was even worse; it bored into his brain like a spike of fear and hate, setting his heart on fire with the memory.
'You wanna know why I didn't tell you about Ruby and how we're hunting down Lillith?
It's because you're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back.
I'm a better hunter than you are; stronger; smarter.
I can take out demons you're too scared to go near.
You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself;
whining about all the souls you tortured in hell.
Knowing that what he said was true - and assuming the same for Sam, the pain his brother's words caused cut more deeply than even his own guilt and pain. However, that all paled in comparison to the horror of what he had tried to do, of what he would have done if Bobby hadn't stopped him. He had managed to push the memory back; to ignore the images that kept trying to assault his minds eye unbidden, but he was tiring. Dean remembered seeing the axe and breaking the glass very clearly. He remembered the feelings associated with that decision. He knew that the siren's poison was responsible, but he also understood completely what Adam Benson meant about being crystal-clear when he murdered his wife. Dean's mind was just as clear when he grabbed that axe and looked down at Sam lying on the floor stunned after being hurled through the door.
'Tell me again how weak I am, Sam. Huh, how I hold you back...'
Dean remembered very distinctly what he was feeling when he raised the axe over his head, preparing to slam it down into his brother's skull. He could picture the arc of the weapon as it moved downward, slicing through the air. He could hear the sound of it connecting with Sam's face, the bones crunching, audible over the deep 'thwack' of the blade becoming embedded in the door once Sam's head was cleaved in two. Dean began to retch involuntarily as the vision played out before his eyes and he abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the road.
He could hear Sam asking what he was doing, but he didn't stop to respond. Opening his door, he staggered out of the vehicle. Moving to a bush on the side of the highway, he went down hard on both knees as he threw up soda and bile. He shook his head, trying desperately to dispel the image of what he had almost done. He breathed deeply trying to erase the smell of Sam's blood splattered on his face; he clenched his fists trying to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. He knew exactly what Adam Benson meant when he said that if he wasn't given the death penalty that he would take care of it himself. Dean truly understood what Adam meant when he had said, 'I know what I deserve.' Well, so did Dean. But he'd be damned if he would tell Sam about it. He wouldn't give Sam any more reason to accuse him of feeling sorry for himself.
Dean felt Sam's hand on his shoulders as he knelt down beside him. He could hear his brother talking to him, but Dean refused to listen to the phony concern in Sam's voice.
"Dean, hey, you okay? Hey, Dude... take it easy."
Sam rubbed his neck and shoulders in a comforting gesture, but Dean took no solace in it. It felt hollow and unreal; like one more lie digging the hole in his heart even deeper. The pain and emptiness was joined by anger, which helped to calm Dean down. He had very little in his stomach, so he quickly reverted to dry heaves. As the anger filled the pit inside of him, the retching slowed and then finally stopped. Dean breathed heavily for a few minutes, collecting his wits. Sam still had his hands on his shoulders when Dean sat back and shrugged them off.
"Wow, what brought that on?" Sam asked, still sounding concerned.
Dean looked at him, staring into his brother's face, looking for the deception that he knew lay hidden there. His frustration mounted when he couldn't see it. Maybe some of what Sam had said was true. Maybe he was slipping as a hunter. He should have been able to see the lie... but he couldn't, even though he knew it was there. Perhaps Sam really was smarter - smart enough to pull off a convincing act.
"Hey, why don't you get some sleep? I can drive for a while."
Shaking his head, Dean mumbled, "Na, Sam. I got it."
Pulling himself to his feet, he headed back to the Impala, speaking over his shoulder to his brother. "I feel fine now."
"Dean, are you kidding me?" Sam followed him back toward the car. "You just puked all over the side of the road until you had nothing left - for like five minutes. Dude, let me drive."
Stopping next to his car, Dean took a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts. He didn't have to work hard to convince himself that he was just as smart as Sam was... at least when it came to hunting. After all, they had both learned from one of the best.
If he couldn't see through Sam's lies, he would just have to make sure that Sam could not see through his. Besides, after everything that had just happened, what harm would one more lie do?
Putting on a convincing smile, Dean looked across the hood of car at his brother.
"Na, I'm good."
A/N - I have been thinking about possibly adding a segment in Sam's POV. I feel that I have a stronger grasp of what is going on in Dean's head but Sam could be interesting to write.