See first part for details…
Thanks so much for reading and a special thanks for the reviews/story alerts/favorites. This was a really fun and challenging story to write. That Dean Winchester. And Sammy too. Gotta love our boys! Enjoy the last part!
Dean felt like he was either Superman flying through the air or Ariel the Mermaid sailing through the water on a fin. He cracked opened an eye and realized he was neither. He was sprawled out in the backseat of the Impala as it sped, or well, as close to speeding as his brother would get, down the highway. The slight vibration of the moving car was soothing. He felt at peace for a moment, not even minding that his brother was driving his car.
And then reality hit him. Five seconds and he was up to bat. Everything came flooding back. Everything. The night before. The Uturu. The last few weeks. Jo, Ellen, Lucifer, vessels, the apocalypse, angels, his mom, his dad, his brother, save the cheerleader, save the world. But it was different today. The pain didn't seem quite as raw or as sharp. It didn't twist around in his brain until it was holding him hostage. It was simply there. And he felt like, maybe, just maybe he could deal with it or, at the very least, not spend every waking moment trying to find a way to drown it out.
"Sammy," he murmured as he struggled to sit up. Very, very bad idea. He cried out as his stomach felt like it was about to rip open. Not to mention that the rest of him felt like it had been hit by a truck. Or two.
"Whoa, easy," said Sam from up front.
Dean managed to get about halfway up the seat and then gave up, staying slumped where he was, not wanting to move in either direction. He was able to eye Sam in the rearview mirror. "Where are we?" he asked as he brought his now slinged up arm to rest against his torn stomach. His fingers detected through his shirt bandages over the tender area of his belly.
"About a half hour out from Sarasota. Taking you to a hospital in the next town over," said Sam, his eyes gazing at him in the rearview mirror. "Figured you wanna get a little distance from Holmes Point."
Sam was giving him the I'm checking on you and want to ask you if you're okay, but I won't because you'll just say your fine look. Dean couldn't handle anymore chick flick moments. He figured he'd filled his quota for the next five to fifty years. But he still appreciated the concern, even if he'd never be able to say it. "Dude, I don't need the hospital," said Dean, meeting Sam's eyes briefly and giving him the thank you glance, not only for being there and saving him, but for also having the sense not to mention any of it. "Think you patched me up pretty good here, Sammy Nightingale."
"Dean, you fell down a flight of stairs. You have a foot long gash in your stomach. You're getting checked out," said Sam.
"Whatever bitch," said Dean.
"Jerk," replied Sam.
Dean had to smile. It had been such a long time since they had done that. It felt good. Like the old days. It gave him hope. Or at least, the memory of it.
He shut his eyes for a moment, noticing for the first time the blast of pansy sounding college rock pouring out of his speakers. His eyes shot open. "What the hell kind of music you poisoning my speakers with man?"
"Hey, I gave up a half a million bucks for your sorry ass. I get to pick the music," said Sam, smirking at him in the reflection of the mirror.
"That's no way to treat your elders, son," said Dean.
"Jackass," said Sam. There were a few moments of silence. Then Sam gazed intently at him in the mirror. "So…you ah…you disappointed the million was all a trick? Can't go off to the islands like you wanted…you know?"
Dean's eyes met Sam's in the mirror again, knowing full well what his brother was really asking. "I don't know, man. The more I think about it, what the hell am I gonna do on an island? After two days I'd be bored out of my mind. Not to mention, I would've banged all the native girls by then anyway."
"So…that means…you're still in it?" asked Sam nonchalantly.
"I ain't ever backed down from a fight before. Why would I start now?" said Dean firmly.
Sam eyed him with a look of pride and then a nod of acknowledgment.
Dean eyed his brother intensely and returned the nod. Then he sank back against the seat, his eyes closing once again. "Seriously bro, the music…you're killing me here."
The radio shut off and then he heard the clamor of cassette tapes. He couldn't help but smile. A moment later, AC/DC's Shoot to Thrill blasted like a rocket through the stereo speakers.
"That better?" shouted Sam.
Dean gave the thumbs up with his good hand. "This'll do."
He sank back further into the seat, letting the music overtake him as his brother gunned the Impala down the highway.
That's All Folks!