Follows Season Six's episode: "Mannequin 3: The Reckoning"
Let You Go
"So… you didn't tell me how you left it with Lisa and Ben," Sam said as he and Dean drove down the deserted highway, breaking the oppressive silence that Sam could no longer stand.
Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel and his jaw muscles flinched.
"Don't want to talk about it," Dean mumbled a moment later.
"It went that well, huh?" Sam asked, hoping to entice Dean into further conversation.
It didn't work.
"S-am," Dean warned, his jaw muscles flinching again.
"Just tell me one thing, Dean," Sam said, pausing before continuing," Did it not go very well because once again… you chose me over them?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked through clenched teeth without taking his eyes off the road.
"Which makes no sense since I know you can't tell me that the year you spent with them wasn't one of, if not the, best year of your life!" Sam said.
"I thought you were dead, Sammy! So, no, IT WAS NOT THE BEST YEAR OF MY DAMN LIFE!" Dean yelled, losing the battle with keeping his cool.
"But you can't deny that the three of you were a family and you had a job…a home…friends even!" Sam reminded his older brother. "I'm just saying… there's no reason you can't all be a family again because I'm okay now."
Without warning, Dean yanked the steering wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes, effectively screeching the car to a halt in about 2 seconds flat.
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam yelled after he righted himself in the seat.
"You're going to say 'what the hell' to me?" Dean asked in disbelief as he opened his driver's side door and practically jumped out.
Sam stepped out of the Impala as well and joined his brother on the other side of the car.
"News flash, Sammy! You are not okay! Nothing since Lucifer hijacked your body has been okay with you!" Dean exclaimed.
"Dean…," Sam began to reply.
"Don't Dean me either! Or was that little involuntary visit to hell you had a few days ago a walk in the park? Because don't think I don't notice that it's still affecting you!" Dean yelled.
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam answered, despite his voice giving him away.
"Really? You don't have a freakin' migraine AS we speak? You also going to tell me that you didn't eat anything for dinner tonight because you're worried about your girlish figure?" Dean said.
"I can handle it," Sam answered as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Really? Is that how we roll now? Every man for himself?" Dean asked in disbelief.
Sam didn't answer.
"I ask again, what the hell is going on?" Dean asked before it hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Hold on a damn minute. You're going to keep at it, aren't you? Keep poking at that hornet's nest of memories… to try and make everything that you did while you had no soul okay? And you want to get rid of me so nothing stands in your way?" Dean asked in utter disbelief.
"It's not like that-," Sam attempted to reply.
"Let me finish! What about this is so damn hard to understand? It's going to kill you, Sammy! I told you that! Once that dam that's keeping your soul together breaks…there may be no bringing you back from the memories of the torture when you were in hell! And not to mention once again…that what you did when you had no soul…it wasn't you! You're not responsible! So just leave it the hell alone!" Dean exclaimed.
"No! You don't get it, Dean! It was me! Soulless, yes, but it was me who did God knows what to God knows how many people! I'm going to figure it out AND I'm going to do whatever I can to fix it! And let's not forget that YOU were the one who shoved my soul back into me…gave me back my conscience! Did you really expect that I would leave it all alone?" Sam exclaimed back.
"This is exactly why I didn't want you to find out! Damn Castiel!" Dean yelled.
Sam sighed, closed his eyes, and for a moment put his hand to his temples. Dean recognized it as a classic move his little brother did when his migraine got even worse.
"Look, I don't want to argue with you, Dean. I don't. I'm glad I have my soul back and I thank you for that. You shouldn't have tried to keep it from me, but that's water under the bridge now. I know about it and I'm not going to let it go. But I do need you to let go," Sam said softly.
"Let go of what?" Dean asked.
"Me. Let me go, Dean. I'm going to do what I have to do…and you…you go back to your life. You deserve it, please," Sam said.
Dean shook his head again.
"Let you go so you're free to kill yourself?" Dean asked incredulously. "Is that what you think you deserve? "
"It's not like that-," Sam answered, his voice again betraying the truth.
"It wasn't you, when you had no soul. But it is you now. And from this point on we can start working together again and fight to find-," Dean replied.
"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I have to take care of this."
"So that's it, then? No more discussion? Who's going to bail you out if you get into trouble? Or…or watch your back if you have another blackout? Dean asked. "Please, Sam. We can think of another way…maybe meet somewhere in the middle-."
"No," Sam said again. "There is no middle. And I know if I stay with you, you'll do everything you can to keep me safe…and I appreciate that…but this time? This time, that's not what I need. I"ll be okay, I promise."
"Really," Dean said as his jaw muscles flexed again. "So if you get me back to the life you think I want with Lisa and Ben, you think I'll just forget about you? Another news flash, Sammy. That life wasn't for me. Never will be and I'm NOT going to let you do this to yourself."
Sam sighed yet again and leaned against the Impala.
"You have always taken good care of me, Dean. But it's time for me to take care of business on my own. I'm sorry. That's just the way it is. I really don't know what else to say," Sam answered.
"Like hell," Dean muttered before punching Sam in the face, effectively rendering his little brother on conscious.
After carefully placing Sam's tied up body in the back seat, Dean slipped back into the driver's seat and pulled out his cell. After dialing, he waited for an answer that he had no doubt would come.
"Yeah?" a man's impatient voice barked in response.
"Spruce up the panic room, Bobby. You're about to have a guest again," Dean said into the phone.
"What happened now?" Bobby asked.
"Sam. The wall around his soul is starting to crack because he won't leave well enough alone. Won't listen to me that what happened while he was soulless wasn't his fault. I need him on lock down until I can figure out how to convince him-." Dean replied.
"Is he soulless again? Possessed? Or have something else supernatural up in him?" Bobby asked after a pause.
"No," Dean answered, confused what the older man was getting at.
"So he's making this decision on his own?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah, so what?" Dean asked, getting annoyed now.
"Can't help you," Bobby replied. "My panic room is not a place for you to simply hole him up in there because you don't like what he wants to do."
"I'm panicking, Bobby! How about that? Is that good enough reason to use your PANIC ROOM?" Dean yelled into the phone.
"Look, Dean. You gotta stop doing this, trying to control Sam. He's going to do what he wants in the end, just like you always do…just like your dad always did. I've learned that in my old age. Otherwise I would have locked up you and Sam in my panic room for a long time now. But it ain't my place, as much as I love you both like sons, just like it aint' your place," Bobby said.
"Are you saying we can't come?" Dean asked angrily.
"You can come Dean. I ain't going to turn you two away. Just…oh hell. Never mind. See you in a few hours," Bobby said before hanging up.
Dean ended the call and threw his phone on the floor. He turned his key in the ignition and floored the gas pedal, hoping the faster he went, the faster his anger would subside…
Slowly Sam's surroundings came back to him. His head throbbed, thanks to Dean punching him unexpectedly in the face. Why the hell had Dean punched him? His wrists and arms also hurt…had he been tied up? Sam recognized that he was on a bed…and the room was so dark he could see little.
"Dean?" Sam called out.
Sam wondered where he was and felt around him, finding a small table next to the bed and blessedly a lamp. After finally turning it on, he took in the surroundings. He was obviously in one of the typically crappy motel rooms they usually stayed in. And he was alone. His bags layed on the other queen bed. As did a white piece of paper. Groaning with the movement, Sam sat up, leaned over the grab the note and began to read.
You say I have to let you go. Bobby agrees, saying that I gotta stop trying to control you. How do I do that? How do I just turn it all off? I don't know if I can. So for now…let's just leave it at this-
See you later.
Sam read and re-read the short letter a few times before finally gently putting it down on the table. His first instinct was to call Dean. See where he was at and if he was okay.
But he didn't.
Sam knew he couldn't. After all, isn't this what he told Dean he wanted?
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