Only My Big Brother
Dean had sent me out to the car not long after I shot Madison. I had stood in her living room with her a little over an hour ago while she and I both fully came to the realization that there was nothing that could save her, nothing at all. She had begged me, pleaded with me to end her pain, to end her misery, to end her life. She had told me that she couldn't live this way, and I didn't want to accept that. I begged her back, insisting we could find a way, but Madison had already accepted a fate that I just couldn't for her. I couldn't take it, not at all. She placed the handle of the gun against my chest, telling me she needed me to help her. I had just told her no, shook my head, denying that there was no way for me and Dean to save her, not convinced. I fought the iron fist tightening around my heart, squeezing, and struggled against my throat closing up, doing my best to swallow back the lump that had decided to make it's home in the back of my throat but to no avail. I left the room with Dean not far behind me as I wrangled against my grief.
I heard Dean speak my name, and I did not want to turn around. For the love of God I did not want to turn around. I didn't want to face him. I couldn't, because if I did then I may just lose all of my composure right there, but I did. I turned and faced him, and I saw the empathy, the pain of what I had to do slowly shift to an insistence of him doing what this beautiful girl had asked of me, for me. Only my big brother would offer to do something like that for me, offer to go into the living room and kill Madison instead of me, but I told him no and my composure crumbled. This was something that Madison wanted me to do and through tears I could no longer hold back, I held my hand out for the gun. I watched Dean place it in my hand reluctantly, but it didn't matter. I told him to wait there. I didn't want him to see this.
I stepped into the hallway and my eyes met the back of Madison's slumped, delicate shoulders and lowered head. She was still wearing my striped shirt I'd had on the previous day. I turned my gaze back toward my brother pleading silently for help to save her, that I didn't want to do this, but that I also knew I had no choice. She had no choice. So I went to her and she took in my face, almost looking surprised at my agony, but her face softened and she put her arms around me. I held her close to me, placing the barrel of Dean's pearl-handled .45 against her rapidly beating heart. I pressed my forehead up against hers and felt her small hand stroke my wet cheek, her soft, tender finger tips tracing the patterns on my face that my tears had made and were still making.
"I'm sorry," I told her softly, cocking the gun. I could barely speak properly.
"You're saving me," was all she whispered back before she kissed me goodbye. "Do it, Sam. Please," she begged, and I pulled the trigger.
Sometimes I forget what an amazing big brother Dean could really be. He gave me time after I shot her. He didn't come running straight to the room where Maddy and I had stood. It gave me a little time to tell her goodbye in my own way. I was trembling heavily, my legs beginning to go numb, but I held her tightly in my arms, the gun falling out of my hand as she lost the ability to stand the moment the silver bullet pierced her chest. Her breaths choking, her small hands gripping the sleeves of my jacket, the depths of her brown eyes wide with fear and pain. I just whispered over and over that she was going to be okay, that everything would be alright, kissing her cheek and then her forehead tenderly while allowing my free hand to stroke her cheek, run my hand over her forehead and through her hair, allowing her to spend the last moments of her life in some form of comfort and warmth and love. Her tiny voice whispered out a "thank you" as I held her in her last moments.
I heard her breathe her last breath; I felt the trembling of her body stop, her small fingers lost grip on my jacket, and I felt Madison's petite frame go completely limp in my arms, her head falling back. I pulled her head forward and tucked it under my chin. I knew she was dead then. And then I had lost all feeling in my legs as they turned to jello under me and brought me to my knees. I cried, harder than I had cried in a very long time. It was so profound that my entire body shook with the turbulance of an earthquake but silent as the snow. I held her to me, buried my face into her hair, breathed in the scent of her shampoo, felt the softness of her hair on my skin and realized I could never have with her what we had shared just a day earlier, and it hurt so much.
I had relished the feeling of what it was like to start to fall in love with a woman again, to make love to a woman, to kiss a woman and lay with her, breathing in her scent, holding her in my arms as we went to sleep, feeling the softness of her skin, and I felt a fissure rip through my heart revealing a new, gaping wound. I don't know how long I was down on the floor clutching Madison to me before I heard Dean's footsteps approaching me. I felt his usually rough hands rest tenderly on my shoulders, giving them a squeeze of comfort before he let go and moved to kneel in front of me and began to pull Madison away from me, gently prying my fingers from the grip I had on her. I wanted to scream out NO! Don't take her away from me! Please! But I couldn't. I couldn't even find my voice. I didn't know if I had it in me to speak. I had stopped crying not long before Dean came in to get me, but after Dean had taken Madison and gently laid her down, I found him in front of me and my eyes filled again. His large hands holding my face, he used his thumbs to wipe away my leftover tears just like he did when I was little, and I just stared up at him, certain my expression screamed hopeless and I didn't care. I only ever let my brother see me vulnerable anyway.
"It's alright, Sammy," Dean had spoken to me in that tender voice of his when he wanted to help me or comfort me. Sometimes he used it when I was sick and he would take care of me. "You go on out to the car and just relax and wait for me. I'll clean up this mess and get us out of here."
In truth, I was grateful he was sending me out to the car, because honestly I don't think I could've spent one more minute in that room, and unless I was going to get to keep Madison in my arms, I didn't want to be in there. I couldn't watch him clean up the mess that I had made. I just couldn't accept it. This was all my fault. So I rose to my feet, leaving the gun laying on the floor somewhere near where Madison and I had sat, and I raced out of the apartment, taking a deep breath of the fresh air the moment I stepped outside. I went straight to the Impala and felt all the energy leave my body. I wasn't tired, but my body felt like it no longer had the will to move, to stand, and so I leaned against my brother's precious car and waited for him, silently grateful for him but feeling somewhat guilty at the same time. If I knew my brother, then I knew that Dean was going to help me get through this, and if that began by Dean cleaning up after me, so be it, regardless of how I felt about it.
About a half hour, forty-five minutes later maybe, I'd honestly lost track. I saw him hurrying down the front steps and out to the car, but I didn't move. I just couldn't. I truly just had no ability to. Dean gently took me by the arm, opened up the door to my side of the car and helped me get seated, positioning my legs so they were as comfortable as possible. He didn't want my knees pressing up against the dash. It didn't really matter because my body was numb, my heart was a gaping wound, everything felt surreal. I was quietly grateful because only my big brother would clean up the mess I made. Only my big brother would make for certain that I could be as comfortable as possible in the front seat of his car.
He shut the door, and I laid against the door and eyed my brother as he pulled out his cell to make a call. He's calling in an anonymous tip, I had thought to myself because I know my big brother better than anybody, and though he might not act like it, he has a big heart and a lot of compassion. He wasn't going to leave Madison to just rot on the floor in her own home, and I had to admit I was grateful for that. Madison deserved to have a big, fancy funeral with all of her friends and family there that love her. Werewolf or not, Madison was not a monster and she did not deserve a death like a monster. And as those thoughts filled my mind, my heart clenched again in my chest, the wound throbbing and I wanted to cry but my eyes didn't fill, they couldn't. So instead I swallowed hard and closed my aching eyes, settling against the door until I heard Dean open up the driver's side door of the car.
I re-opened them and just stared out at the surroundings but not really seeing them. Everything looked like an indistinct, ruined painting. I just couldn't focus, but I couldn't find the need to try and focus, so I just stared at nothing. Dean turned the key in the ignition and pulled us out of Madison's driveway and far away from her and her now non-existent life. I laid my cheek against the cool of the window, and sighed as I watched the passing scenery. Music played around me, but it sounded extremely far off, like I was in a tunnel and the radio was at the end of it. I could hear Dean's quiet humming and tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. I heard my brother clear his throat, knowing that was a tell tale sign that he was about to start talking to me.
"You know, Sam. I was just thinking about something. They're probably going to be having a funeral for Madison, huh?" Oh no...I did not want to have this talk. I couldn't do it. Not now. Not this soon. I'm grateful for my brother, I would die for him in an instant but sometimes he is so dense when it comes stuff like this. "Maybe we should stick around and pay our respects? She was a very classy lady, and she was definitely falling for you." Dude...don't remind me. Please. Don't. Dean. Just...stop. It hurts too much, but at the same time it doesn't hurt enough, and I just can't take it. He couldn't hear the pleading thoughts in my head, so Dean went on, and I just wanted him to stop. "I think it'd make her happy if-," and Dean stopped as I lifted my head and met his gaze, my eyes tired.
I just slowly shook my head, barely able to stand that look in his eyes he was giving me. It was empathy, apology, sadness, and I couldn't hold his gaze long. Somewhere in me I found the ability to speak one word. "No." I was surprised at the sound of my voice. It sounded like I hadn't used it in days. It was croaky and hoarse, like I was just getting over a bad case of laryngitis. I averted my gaze from my brother's once more and laid my head back against the passenger side window and resumed my staring into absolute nothingness. I could only begin to imagine what I looked like and found that I just didn't even care at this point. I had killed somebody. I had killed a woman. A beautiful woman who had been filled full of life, spunk, optimism, and I want to curse why this sweet, gorgeous, innocent girl had to have her life taken from her in an instant, and why of all people I had to fall for her. I had finally began to accept Jess's death, but I still loved and missed her terribly. When I met Madison, Dean's words had come back into my head. "I would think she'd want you to be happy." Happiness for Sam Winchester? Yeah, never gonna happen. Everybody around me dies.
I sighed softly, closing my eyes and all I could see was her behind my lids. I could see the lust, the need, the desire and the love in her eyes for me as we kissed and made love and held each other, stroking each other's faces and hair until we drifted into sweet slumber. I could see her smiling face, our laughing together over some silly soap opera as we lounged on the couch together. I could remember the shyness and gratitude that had crept onto her face when I told her that she was impressive, and she was. I hope she died still believing that because I believed it and wouldn't stop, werewolf or not. I could see the apology in her expression as she tenderly touched the four cuts across the left side of my face, and I closed my eyes against the overwhelming ache assaulting my chest, my heart. I could feel Dean's worry for me radiating around the car like a thick fog. I wished I could tell him to stop worrying, that I would be fine, but in truth I knew I wouldn't. I felt so tired, but I didn't want to sleep. I probably couldn't sleep, even if I'd tried.
After a few hours of driving, I might have dozed off, I couldn't tell. Or perhaps I was just lost in the memory of this beautiful woman that I really could've had something with if only I had saved her life. Dean had slowed to a stop. I turned my eyes upward, seeing that we were at a gas station. I listened to the squeaking of the door as my brother got out to get gas. I watched him as he walked into the gas station, purchased some random items and the gas and made his way back out to the car. He opened up the plastic sack and pulled out a bag of potato chips, some M&Ms and some water. He offered them to me in his typical Dean-like gesture, but I just shook my head as I declined the offer to eat. Food didn't sound even remotely appealing, and my stomach felt like an empty, black hole. I had no desire for it. The worry resumed fogging around the car, and I closed my eyes again. I think this time I had fallen asleep because I woke with a start, finding Dean had stopped the car again. I took a quick moment to look at him, and he did look exhausted. We were at a motel.
"Okay, Sam. I'm just gonna go in and get us a room, get our keys, and then I'll be back. Maybe I'll head out and grab us some beer, food and we can just kick bad back and watch old movies tonight and get some sleep for a change," Dean had told me.
I think he'd been hoping I'd respond to him, but I just didn't. I couldn't. I just had no desire to pipe up and speak and have a big, long conversation with my brother. It was nothing against him, I just didn't have it in me. I watched Dean rolling the tension from his shoulders, and instantly felt bad. It was because of me. I sighed and watched him walk to the motel office. He disappeared behind the door and I decided to slip out of the car, pop the trunk, grab the duffels and get the hell to the motel room. Every instinct in me was telling me to run away, to just run and keep running until I collapsed, but I didn't. I wanted to. Oh how I wanted to, but my body just lacked the energy and my appendages felt like lead. Instead, I just dug out mine and Dean's duffels, along with our weapons duffel to spare him having to deal with it. He looked about ready to drop as it was. It wasn't much longer I found him standing beside me, his voice expressing gratitude toward me.
"Thanks for the help there, but you don't need to carry everything by yourself, Sam," Dean had told me, his hand patting my free shoulder momentarily before I swung the weapons duffel over it. I turned toward him to give him a quick glance before shutting the lid on the trunk. Oops. I think I might've shut it a little too hard. As I walked off toward the motel rooms, I waited for the inevitable explosion.
"Hey, hey bro! Easy there!" I was surprised. Dean actually didn't yell at me, nor did he sound angry. He sounded..playful and joking.. "You don't even know what room we're in, Sam! I've got the damn keys!"
I stopped as soon as he said that, actually realizing that I didn't know what room we were in, and even if I did, I didn't have a key of my own to get in there. I held my hand out, not able to meet my older brother's eyes. "Sorry," I apologized in a tone no louder than my voice would let me go right now. My voice really sounded just...not like me and so dead. Regardless of slowly beginning to feel the emotion filling my own chest and just holding it's weight there, I couldn't let it go. I wanted to, but I couldn't. It was like it was trapped. Maybe I had just lost the will to get angry, to really feel pain and express it, to ache, to cry, to whatever else. I wasn't sure.
"Nah, c'mon, Sammy. Nothin' to be sorry for," Dean had practically cooed at me. I knew he was just trying to help, but I could feel a twinge of irritation touch the back of my neck. "I'll carry 'em. Let's just get you in the room and settled for the night. Maybe a nice, hot shower would do you some good huh?"
My breath caught in my throat at Dean's words, and I looked downward feeling my heart drop to my feet. The front of my t-shirt had been soaked in Madison's blood, and I hadn't even noticed it. Of course it was dry now, but still. Her blood was on me. It was on me because I had been the one who shot her. I had been the one who killed her. It was all me. Nobody else. I raised my head and Dean's eyes met mine. He looked extremely worried for me, and I just didn't know what to do or say. I could feel it beginning to climb it's way into my chest, but I forced it back down and resumed my dead stare.
"I'm tired, Dean," was all I could say. I wasn't meaning to be rude or crabby if I sounded that way, but honestly I just couldn't deal with all of this. Not right now. It was just too much, so I chose the alternate route and decided to lock away my pain, push it down into the lower depths of my heart and built a wall around it. I knew it wasn't a permanent solution, but at least it would hold for now. I had done this when Jessica died, I could do it again. I know my brother knew as well exactly what I was doing, but I just didn't care.
He unlocked the room, and I followed him inside. Honestly, I just wanted to crawl into a warm bed, close my eyes and fall into darkness. Fall into a peaceful oblivion where nobody or nothing could bother me, could make me hurt, where I couldn't feel anything at all. I threw my duffel down on top of my bed and dug out some clean clothes, not bothering to look at what they were. Just some jeans and a t-shirt. I grabbed my bathroom supplies and went straight to the bathroom, not even bothering to look at Dean at all. I knew I left him feeling uncomfortable and unsettled in there, but it wasn't my intention. I slammed the bathroom door closed behind me and pressed my forehead against the wood, taking a few deep breaths to gain control of myself. My walls were cracking and I fought to keep them up. I slipped out of my jacket, blood-soaked t-shirt and jeans and tossed them aside on the other side of the bathroom. I couldn't even look at them. I slipped on my clean clothes and then made my way to the bathroom sink, turning on the faucet.
I grasped onto the sink and leaned forward, staring at my reflection. My eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted. The cuts on my face were an angry red. If I didn't care for these sometime soon, they might just end up getting badly infected. I'd deal with them a little later. As I reached for my toothbrush, my eyes caught sight of my hands. They were covered in blood. Madison's blood. Her blood was on my hands, as was Mom's, Jessica's, Dad's and now hers. All my fault. I could feel my heart pounding, beating against my ribcage with every heavy thrum. I got the water a decent temperature, grabbed the soap and began scrubbing my hands, doing my best to wash all the blood off of them. Mom's blood. Jessica's blood. Dad's blood. Madison's blood. Wandell's blood was on my hands too. All my fault. I scrubbed for what seemed like ages, and the blood just wouldn't come off. I could feel myself starting to get angry, so I scrubbed harder until I was torn from my thoughts by the other side of the bathroom door being beat on.
"Hey are you about done in there? Some of us have to pee and would really like a shower!" Dean was shouting through the closed door, and I could hear him over the sound of the faucet running. I was just so focused on washing the blood away from my hands, that I couldn't find it in me to respond, and Dean beat on the door again with his fist. "SAM! LET ME IN!" His voice sounded somewhat panicked. Still, I just couldn't. I hadn't locked the door though. Dean could always just walk in, and walk in he did. I heard the doorknob turn and saw Dean's reflection in the slightly foggy mirror from behind me. The water must be getting hot. I had no idea because I couldn't feel anything. I just continued to scrub. Maybe extra hot water would get all of this blood off of my hands.
"Hey hey hey, what are you doing, Sam?" Dean questioned me gently as he approached my side, looking up at my face, but I didn't meet his stare. Instead, I responded, surprising myself that I could even speak, but even more surprising at the way my voice sounded.
"Blood. I have blood on my hands. Just trying to get it off," I answered him, my voice sounding extremely monotone and flat. I could tell that I was scaring Dean, and I was sorry. I really was, but this was important. Though maybe I'd never be able to wash all of this blood off of my hands. Committing murder isn't something you just get away from; it isn't something you can just clean up and walk away from forever.
Dean grasped my hands in his own and pulled them away from the water beginning to scald and shut the faucet off. "I think that's enough of that, little brother. Here. The blood's all gone. Let me get you a towel so we can wipe these dry." Dean grasped both of my wrists in one hand while he snagged a white towel hanging off of the towel rack next to bathroom sink and began drying my bloody, sullied hands. I blinked a few times before looking down and realizing that there was no blood on them now. But they had been thickly covered just a few moments ago. Was I...? Maybe I was just going out of my head, or maybe I was just exhausted from lack of sleep and food and seeing things.
"C'mon, Sammy. Let's get you ready for bed. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in some sleep pants instead of jeans?" Dean inquired, raising an eyebrow at me. I studied him as he took in my appearance.
Right...I did just grab regular clothes. I didn't grab sleep pants at all. Weird. Oh well. Comfort was beyond me right now. My body truly felt numb. I just shook my head at his offer and found that I couldn't meet his eyes, so I just stared straight ahead of me. I didn't look at my hands for fear of seeing the blood on them again, nor did I look at the floor. I couldn't bear seeing those clothes of mine covered in Madison's blood. Instead I just stared straight ahead. I felt Dean's hand clasp my shoulder and guide me out of the bathroom and over to my bed. With little force and ease, he seated me down at the foot of my bed, and I complied. I didn't move, didn't flinch, nothing. I just stared ahead, trying to clear my mind and ignore everything that was racing through my head and screaming at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean with his back turned toward me. Then I heard him sigh before he turned back to look at me.
"Hey, Sam? I'm gonna go out for just a few minutes, grab some beer and maybe something to eat. I won't be gone but maybe 15 minutes, okay? You gonna be cool hanging here?" I could hear the obvious concern in Dean's voice for me, and I had to admit it did make me feel good.
I nodded my head letting him know I'd be fine, and he sighed again, pulling on his jacket and hurrying out of the room. If I was frustrating my brother, I wasn't meaning to. I just wanted to rid myself of feeling pain like this. I didn't even pay attention to how long Dean was gone. I just sat here on the end of my bed and doing everything I could to block out every thought and emotion that wanted to consume me. It was becoming frustrating, and I had been working so hard at trying to just clear my mind of everything that I didn't even notice my big brother come back to the room. I saw he'd brought back two 6-packs of beer with him and could smell the heart attack in a sack he'd brought back as well. He'd stopped off and got us food and beer. Guess he wasn't kidding.
"Yo, Sam!" Dean called to me, but I didn't respond. Just tried to focus on my little task inside my head. "Earth to Sasquatch! I got food and beer over here. You interested?" Dean bent down right in front of me and began waving his hand back and forth across my face. It was seriously beginning to irritate me, and I was already frustrated enough as it was. "You in there?"
"Stop it, Dean. I'm not hungry," I responded, barely letting the irritation be heard in my voice, but warning him just enough that I seriously wasn't in the mood, and I certainly didn't want to eat lest he wanted me retch everything onto his damn shoes.
"Ohhh so I see you've finally come back from planet silence of the weird and are actually speaking to me now," resounded my brother's cocky voice as he began pulling the food out of the bags. I noticed that he got me a grilled chicken sandwich and a salad to boot. At least it was something healthy. He placed it on my side of the table. I watched as he brought himself out a thick, double bacon cheeseburger and fries. Like I said, heart attack in a sack. Next, he tugged two beers out of their carrier and sat one on either side of the table. "Well, I really don't care if you're hungry or not,"he began, and I hated it when Dean got like this. I-do-not-want-to-eat. What part of "I'm not hungry" did he just not understand? I raged to myself in my head as he carried on in that authoritive, big brother tone of his. "I'd like you to come over here and try to eat something."
I just shook my head stubbornly, choosing not to look at him or the food that didn't look at all appetizing at the present time. Instead, I chose to cast my eyes downward and stare at the gray-blue carpet underneath our feet. "I said, I'm not hungry, Dean," I found myself practically growling, albiet quietly, at my older brother, but now I didn't care what tone I took with him or not. I was seriously beginning to get annoyed. If he poked at me anymore, I could guarantee that I was going to jump straight into pissed off territory next.
"Dude, you are not handling this properly at all," Dean told me, and I could see him from the corner of my eye leaning back against the table. He looked so arrogant, and I really want to rage and smack him. He was seriously beginning to piss me off. He took a long swig from his bottle of beer and continued to push me. "You need to deal, man. Isn't that what you told me when Dad died? You can't just sit there and not deal with it. You can't brood over this for the rest of your life."
Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. I raised my head swiftly to meet his green eyes that were gazing down at me looking bored, and I glared hard at him. "And since when the hell did you even give a rat's ass if I'm dealing or not, Dean? You didn't care when dad died if I was handling it or not. You never bothered to ask if I was still dealing or not. Now that Madison's dead you're suddenly the concerned big brother? You're worried about me handling her death? Screw you, Dean. You have no idea. NONE."
And he didn't. He didn't have a freakin' clue at all whatsoever. Dean had never been in love. Every woman he'd ever been with was just a one night stand. Love 'em and leave 'em. To feel that honesty and passion and truth of a woman giving herself fully to you and for you to give that back, Dean didn't understand. Only to turn around and lose her forever in the process? Dean didn't know how that felt at all. Now he's pushing me and telling me to handle it? What the hell does he know anybody about how I handle things. I could feel the rage beginning to boil in the pit of my stomach.
"THEN ENLIGHTEN ME, SAM!" Dean yelled at me, but I could tell from the look on his face he felt bad for it; I didn't care though. I was ready for it. If he wanted to yell at me, then he'd better be ready to have it dished out right back on him, but I was on the brink of exploding anyway. And as much as I hated it, I was beginning to waver, the anger that had been on my face prior to this, had been replaced with rage and I know Dean could see it. Dean huffed a frustrated sigh at me. "Why don't you perhaps give me an idea on what it's like to lose a woman you're falling in love with?" he questioned me, and I just got angrier. He continued on pushing me."Or better yet, what it's like to a kill a woman that you were falling for and who turned out to be a monster. Why don't you tell me a bedtime story about that, Sam?"
I finally felt a burst of energy rush through me at the word monster. I found myself rising from the bed and on my feet, staring down my narcissistic, older brother. My hands began to clench into tight fists at my sides. All I could feel was white-hot anger slowly billowing under my skin. "She was not a monster," I told him in a quiet, calm, but deadly voice. I was maintaining control for now, but I didn't know how much longer if Dean kept pushing me like this.
I watched him shrug his shoulders and take another huge drink from his beer bottle. "Yeah she was, Sam. Madison was a monster," he told as if it were the most obvious thing in the whole world and the rage burned hotter. "You know it, I know it. She knew it. Don't sit there and try to deny it."
What the hell! WHY was Dean saying all of these things? So was going to start attacking Madison because she was a werewolf? Was going to start insulting her and tearing her down? I found myself responding in that still calm, growling, deadly voice. I was surprised with the amount of rage surging through me right now I wasn't outright screaming. "No, Dean. You didn't know her. You didn't know about her life, her dreams, her ambitions. Madison was not a monster. She wasn't," I insisted, staring straight into my brother's eyes and never breaking hold, but words didn't seem to affect Dean at all or make him understand.
"She committed murder, Sam. She killed those men. Ripped their hearts right out of their chests," Dean egged me on as he used his free hand to grasp at his own chest and use a motion as if he were tearing his own heart out, and the fury slowly consumed me.
"NO! She had NO idea she was even doing it, Dean! NONE WHATSOEVER!" My voice had risen, and was slightly shaking and I nearly flinched at how almost desperate I sounded. "Madison feared the male dominance aspect of those men. When the wolf part of her took over, she killed them because she felt the need to protect herself! I know her ex deserved it," Sam's added through clenched teeth. "That son of a bitch was violent. He made her feel insecure and afraid!" I was trying so hard to make Dean understand. Madison wasn't a monster. She was a beautiful, sweet, innocent girl who never deserved what happened to her. All she wanted to do was go out, be independent and live her own life, and now she couldn't have that. I could feel my breath beginning to pick up, and my heart beginning to race. I searched Dean's eyes for some sort of sign of understanding, but there was nothing.
He just stared at me for a moment before turning to sit his now empty beer bottle on the table behind him. He turned back around and faced me once more, no sign of any emotion on his face. In fact, his expression was entirely unreadable. Dean folded his arms over his chest and continued to watch me, almost as if he observing me, or waiting for something. "Yeah, and?" he inquired with a scoff. "She was still a monster, Sam. A cold-blooded murderer, unstoppable and evil."
I couldn't hold back. My rage consumed me, filling me to the core and pushing me to the brink, the edge of a precipice. "SHE WAS NOT EVIL!" I found myself screaming as I advanced toward my older brother, my chest heaving from erratic breaths. "THERE WAS NOT AN EVIL BONE IN HER BODY!"
"Yes there was, Sam," Dean answered me in that matter-of-fact voice of his which only further served to piss me off even more, if it were even possible. "Madison was just one of the many nasty, supernatural, evil things that we hunt, little bro," Dean continued pushing me to the edge of that precipice until I stopped, and instead of letting myself fall, with a surge of adrenaline, I dove for my brother.
I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the motel wall. I ignored the small grunt of pain that came out of my brother's mouth. Nothing else mattered. I was all-consumed by rage and grief and those two mixtures were never a good combination. I knew this from experience, but I didn't care. I had my brother to take this out on, and apparently he wanted me to. I realized this now, and I still didn't care. So I let the red hot blazing, raging fire pour out of me into Dean, but the grief was beginning to claw it's way to the surface of my heart. The rage was still overpowering the grief and the anguish I was beginning to feel, so I let it loose, my face barely inches away from Dean's. I bared my teeth and practically snarled at him.
"Don't you DARE say that about her, Dean. Don't you EVEN go there! Madison was NOT evil! She didn't even know what she was doing! She fell asleep, and she had no memory of what she was doing and you call that evil? It wasn't her fault, Dean! IT WAS NOT HER FAULT!" and I truly believed this because Madison was not a bad person. She wasn't an evil woman. She had no evil intentions. She was protecting herself against what threatened her. She didn't know what she was doing. Why the hell couldn't Dean see that?
"I don't know, Sam. She was still wolfing out, and she still killed people. If you ask me," Dean began leaning more into my face, even though I had him pinned against the wall. "I think she deserved to die," Dean told me in a very soft, almost deadly sounding voice, his green eyes piercing my own.
I know he saw the hurt, the agony flash through my eyes before a new fire filled my body and surged through it like rapid, repetitive bolts of lightning. I felt my eyes widen and couldn't control the anger, the rage, the ferocity, and I drew back my fist and punched my brother as hard as I possibly could, right into his jaw. I sent him soaring sideways, and watched him with no remorse as he fell into the table before he hit the floor. He got up on his feet and stumbled a bit, and I studied him as he cupped his jaw, his big moss green eyes meeting my own in evident shock and surprise. I hadn't pulled the punch at all. I didn't go easy on him, and I didn't care. My chest continued to rise and fall with erratic, heaving breaths before I found it in me to rage once more.
"SHE WAS NOT A MONSTER! SHE WAS NEVER A MONSTER! SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL PERSON AND AN INNOCENT GIRL WITH A WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF HER! SHE DIDN'T DESERVE THE FATE SHE GOT! SHE DIDN'T DESERVE TO DIE! SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS EVEN DOING! SHE WAS INNOCENT, DAMMIT AND PURE AND BEAUTIFUL! SHE NEVER ASKED TO GET BITTEN BY A WEREWOLF! SHE COULD'VE HAD SO MUCH MORE LIFE TO LIVE IF I COULD'VE JUST FOUND SOMETHING TO SAVE HER! BUT SHE'S NOT NOW BECAUSE...BECAUSE I TOOK THAT AWAY FROM HER, DEAN! I DID! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I SHOT HER AND NOW SHE'S DEAD! SHE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF ME! A BEAUTIFUL, SWEET, INNOCENT GIRL IS DEAD, AND IT'S BECAUSE OF ME, DEAN"
I couldn't help it. I lashed out. I let loose every single word I had been thinking since I put that silver bullet through Madison's chest. I tried hard to use those words to explain what I felt, to emphasize that it was all my fault that she had to die. I was the one who fell for her. I was the one who kissed her, I was the one who slept with her, I was the one who wanted to be with her, and in the end I couldn't because I killed her. Why couldn't some other hunter have gotten this gig? I was beginning to lose face in front of my brother. I knew he could see it. I was crumbling , slowly making my way back toward the edge of that precipice. If he didn't save me, I was going to fall. The anger was slowly draining away from me now, the adrenaline slowing down in me, and I gazed at my brother. Sorrow, grief, realization on what had just happened replaced the rage. Dean began walking slowly toward me, and I didn't move. I couldn't move. The backs of my eyes prickled uncomfortably, and Dean never took his eyes off of me.
"She's dead, Dean. I killed her," I told him, my voice much softer now, cracking almost. The tears were making their arrival known as they burnt my eyes. "I killed her. I shot her. She's dead, and she can't come back." I tried to speak more, but my breath hitched, and my legs lost all feeling in them and began to collapse from under me. I felt Dean hurry to me and grab my arms before I could fall. I went to my knees as I felt Dean's hands wrap around my biceps and clutch me. He followed and went down with me, and I lowered my head, letting it hang listlessly. I couldn't let him see me like this, but my composure was breaking in front of him. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I couldn't contain it. It managed to climb it's way up to my heart as the wound burst open. The sorrow and the grief and the ache and the remorse found it's way through the wound, out of my eyes and down my face. "I killed her, Dean. She could've lived. She could've lived an entire, full life all her own if only I had tried harder." My voice shook, and I didn't care. I leaned into my big brother as he continued to hold my arms in his hands.
"Sam, there was nothing we could do," Dean tried to tell me, his voice tender, his hands grasping my biceps and squeezing them hard. "You know there's no cure for a werewolf. You know that there was nothing that could've been done, Sammy." I know Dean wanted me to understand that. I know he wanted me to accept it, but I couldn't.
I didn't respond, and I let the tears fall freely now, falling onto my other brother's leg, and I sobbed. I felt Dean grab ahold of the back of my neck and pull me closer to him. I wasn't going to fight him or struggle against the comfort Dean was openly offering me because I needed this. Instead, I pulled in closer and wrapped my arms tightly around my older brother's waist as if I were 5 years old again and needing comforting because I missed my daddy or I didn't feel good or I got hurt. Now at 24 years old, only my big brother would do something like this for me. He let me hide my face in his shoulder, and I burst into uncontrollable tears, so profound that I couldn't even make a noise.
I cried harder into my brother's shoulder than I had after I'd shot Madison. The last time I had cried like this was when Jessica had died. I never thought I'd feel pain like this again. And thinking of Jess only made the sobs shake my body harder and hurt more than I possibly thought I could hurt. I felt Dean wrap one of his protective arms tightly around my shoulders, gripping the cuff of my shoulder with his hand while his other hand wound it's way through my hair at the back of my head. I clung to him, my fingers clutching and digging into the back of his shirt as I released my pain, my heartache, my grief, as my wound leaked salt water, and I seeked the comfort of my brother, and he complied as he held me.
"It's alright, Sammy. It's alright. Everything's going to be okay. We're going to get through this. I promise," Dean murmured into my ear. I relished the feeling of his fingers threading through the locks of my hair at the back of my head, like he did for me when we were just kids. He was layering me with comfort, and I took no hesitation at soaking it up. Only my big brother would do something like this for me.
I don't know long I sat here clinging to my brother, but my sobs eased down, my breathing gradually hitching, and the tears had slowed, but had not stopped completely. Feeling the need to breathe, I turned my face away from Dean's face, so I could take in a few deep breaths and refill my starved lungs with air. And during my meltdown, not only had I came to the realization that I'd truly killed Madison, but I had come to the realization of something else that filled me with so much more guilt, I could hardly stand it. When I found the ability to speak again, I opened up my mouth and took a deep breath.
"I killed her, Dean. I know she wanted it. I know it was the right thing to do, but I killed her, and I think I was starting to fall in love with her. There could've been something there, but you know? I understand something now," my voice was still shaking, and I was dismayed at the fact that I could still feel the tears thick in my throat.
"What's that, Sammy?" Dean questioned me softly, and I flinched ever so slightly, hoping Dean wouldn't notice. Why my brother could be so kind to me, so warm, so tender and understanding right now after the way I had acted, after how I'd hit him, and with what I was about to reveal right now, well... I didn't deserve it. "What do you understand?"
"The promise I made you make," I answered as my entire body began shivering in Dean's arms. "Dean, I am so sorry. I realize now what I was asking of you. I never ever should've asked that of you. Dean, please. I just...I'm so sorry," Much to my chagrin, my voice cracked again, and I let out another sob. "Everyone around me dies, Dean. Why does everyone around me die, Dean? Why?" I questioned, sounding all of 5 years old, and my breath hitched again.
I could feel the tears starting again, and I had began to wonder if I was a goddamn waterfall. I buried my face into the side of Dean's neck and held on again as a new wave of tears defeated me. Dean didn't mind though. I knew my big brother. I knew that he'd stay here and hold me forever and let me cry and let me keen and let me rage as much I needed to if that meant I was dealing with my pain and not locking it away. If this is what I needed then that was what my brother would do. Even if I told him no, told him that I'd be okay, because I honestly swear that I didn't want to burden my big brother with this. I didn't want him to feel responsible for me like I was some 5 year old child again. Somehow though, I could protest until I were blue in the face, and Dean would never listen to me. He'd stay here with me until I was better because that's just how my big brother was. And I loved him for that.
"Sam, let's not talk about that right now, okay?" Dean soothed me, and I could feel his hand finding it's way to the middle of my back where he began to rub gentle circles in between my shoulder blades, one of the big things that always made me feel better when I was a kid. I relaxed my frame against Dean, and continued to let sorrow flow from heart and out of my eyes. "That's not important. What's important now is that we help you get past this, okay? And we'll stay here for as long as you need, alright?" I sighed shakily at his words and felt Dean lay his cheek against my hair, and another silent sob filled my chest and caused my shoulders to jerk, and even more tears built up in my eyes. I know I was probably soaking Dean's entire right side, but he didn't seem to care. He just wrapped his arms tighter around me and didn't let go. If I knew Dean, he didn't want me feeling anymore guilty than I already was right now. It grew very silent in the room before Dean broke the silence.
"Sammy, you do know that those things I said about Madison, I didn't mean any of them. You were just scaring me man. I couldn't get any sort of reaction out of you. So I tried another method to see if I could. I just wanted you to try and deal with this. That's all. You know that, right Sammy?" Dean inquired. I couldn't find it in me to speak. My throat was still too entirely tight and choked, so I just nodded my head up and down to confirm that I knew. I knew what Dean had been doing. I knew he didn't mean those things he said about Madison. He was just trying to get me to open up to him. I was surprised at the method, but it certainly worked.
I don't know how long we sat there. I think maybe an hour or two had passed before I realized I'd been laying here in my brother's arms like a big crybaby of a child. Feeling extremely embarrassed and foolish, I sat up and pulled away from Dean. "I'm sorry," I managed to mumble and tried to turn away from him. I got about halfway turned before I felt him grasp my shoulders and turn me harshly around back to face him again.
"Hey, hey there is nothing, not a DAMN thing, to be sorry about here, Sammy. Not at all. You got me?" Dean insisted before grasping my face in his calloused and warm hands before pulling it up to look at him. I just turned my eyes up toward his and he stared at me with that same empathetic and sad expression.
"Sammy, I got this one. I'll do it."
"She asked me to."
"You don't have to."
"Yes I do."
And just as he'd done before at Madison's apartment, Dean used his thumbs to wipe away the tear tracks that had saturated my face. I sniffled and offered him the best, fake smile I could pull off right now which wasn't much. "Thanks, Dean," I thanked my brother, and I truly was filled with gratitude for him. I pushed myself to my feet and heard Dean get to his as well. I saw he had his hand out to help steady me since I was a bit unsteady on my feet myself. I made my way into the bathroom and bent over the sink, turning on the cold water. I cupped my hands underneath and splashed my face off a few times and washed the salty water and drying tear tracks from my cheeks, flinching ever so slightly as I bumped the cuts on my cheek where Madison had clawed me. I'd care for them later. Right now, I just really needed some time to calm down. And as I washed my face and studied my red, splotchy eyes and reflection in the mirror, I came to a decision. I walked out of the bathroom, feeling a little refreshed, but not extremely. I smiled tiredly at Dean and had forgotten just how much a good breakdown could exhaust a person. Dean offered me a beer, and I gratefully accepted.
"I'm sorry I hit you," I apologized to Dean again, pointing the top of my beer bottle toward his face. A good-sized bruise was already beginning to form, and I instantly felt guilty for hitting him. I really shouldn't have taken my anger out on my big brother.
Dean just waved a hand at me as though it hadn't mattered at all. "Eh, don't worry about it Sammy! Didn't hurt that much! I need to teach you how to really hit when you wanna hit because you still totally hit like a girl," Dean teased me, talking like all was right with the world like he usually did. But I was no idiot. I knew he was hurt because of me and secretly hoped I didn't break his jaw. I'd coddle him about it later. Dean and I sat in silence as we finished our beers before I stood up to toss my empty bottle in the trashcan and grab another. I turned and looked back at Dean with an earnest and grieved expression all mixed into one. My brother knew what I was about to say, but he stayed silent so I could speak.
"Dean," I began. "We need to get our suits ready. I'd like to go back and attend Madison's funeral," I found myself having a harder time to say than I thought. I swallowed back the lump that had started to make it's home in my throat and popped the lid off of my beer.
"Of course, Sammy," Dean responded. I knew my brother was hiding the surprise he felt at my words since previously I'd told him no. "We wouldn't miss it for the world." Only my big brother would turn around and drive me 4 or 5 hours back to San Francisco so I could say my final goodbyes. I couldn't ask for anything more.
Okay, so I totally don't know what prompted me to write this in 1st person PoV for Sam, but I did! O_O Don't ask why! I truly do not know! LOL Anyway, I think I'm going to write Madison's funeral for a 3rd and final chapter for this, but I pretty much wanted to write the same story in Sam's PoV as did the first chapter in Dean's, however this turned out to be like over 3000 more words longer than the first chapter! Haha, I guess I just know Sam better than Dean or something? I'm not sure. Anyway, thank you so kindly to those of you who do read my stuff and give me comments and sweet and encouraging ones. I truly do appreciate it. Take care everybody and thank you in advance for any reviews I may receive! (AND WOOT! IT'S SUPERNATURAL FRIDAY!)