Lost Time Ch. 16

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 16/27
Wordcount: 6,133
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Dean/Sam, Gabriel/OFC
Warning(s): Violence, Sex, Expletives, Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
Notes: Still very AU. If you like this, thank sammichgirl, who told me it was time to make it public. :) If you don't it's totally not her fault.
Summary: Sam Burton has an average life, a foul-mouthed sister, and a dream of putting his past behind him. All of that changes when Dean Winchester comes to stay.

First part
Previous part

Sam takes his time at the store, wanders through aisles before picking up random produce, familiar looking boxes, anything that catches his eyes. It’s enough food to cover a week or two as long as it works together, and Sam can’t care less if it does. The store clerk, who he’s seen hundreds of times, glances at his face once and avoids conversation, dropping a carton of Ophelia’s cigarettes in the last bag and repeating the total quietly.

Sam makes it out of the store in one piece, despite the fact it feels like his brain is about to explode. It keeps running in a circle, each thought leading from one to another until the loop begins again. It always starts with decide what, moves to I can’t do this, slides smoothly into he’d hate me.

In the end though Sam has had a lifetime’s worth of self-deception and he promised himself a long time ago he’d stop. He knew when he told Ophelia to find his family the outcome could be hideous, and while this is way beyond the level of terrible he was expecting he’s not as blindsided as he could be. Mostly because Sam has never expected that when a good thing is given to him it will stay.

He has two choices, and they’re his to make in the end. Dean can agree or disagree, there’s that, but Sam’s choice is what matters in the end because it’s his life. He took it back, gathered the shattered pieces of it and rebuilt it slowly as best he could. The days of letting someone else dictate his actions are long gone. So in the end what matters is if he wants a brother he never knew or a man he loves.

Oh there’re complications, things that shouldn’t ever be considered, because whether Sam wants to admit it or not it’s incest. No getting around that little roadblock. In the end though, he’s never had a brother, and he hasn’t wanted one in years. When he was a kid he’d dream about having a big brother, someone to protect him and talk to him and love him. Now he has a sister for that, one that chose him and he chose back, and he doesn’t need more than that. He needs a partner, he needs someone who can hold him up, make him feel worthwhile when he’s down, and tell him the truth no matter what.

Dean was all of those things, and he’s gotten used to it. Learned to love it. So now Sam’s only choices are to ignore what he wants and give in to Dean’s need for his baby brother Sam, or demand that Dean take him or leave him as Sam his lover. 

He loads the car without seeing anything he’s doing, and it’s really a miracle he makes it home. He sees Bobby's car in the yard, vaguely remembers calling the man two days ago and texting him this morning, and then sees something he wasn’t expecting.

Dean bursts through the living room door onto the porch, hands at his sides, and Bobby follows behind him with a face that speaks death. Sam’s out of the Jeep in seconds, crossing the snow to get up the hill and even with them. They reach the steps, descend, and then Dean turns and opens his mouth before Bobby's fist connects brutally with his nose. Sam hears the crunch from his position and speeds up.

“Bobby! Bobby stop!”

Dean simply stands there, letting Bobby pummel him with this look on his face that Sam recognizes, remembers too well staring back at him out of the mirror for so long. Determination to be punished, eagerness really to feel pain that is well deserved. When Bobby's fist catches Dean in the stomach and bends him over Sam finally gets even and grabs the older man's coiled arm to pull him back. They struggle, and Sam manages to loop both his arms through Bobby's elbows.

“Let me go boy! Fucking let me go! She’s blind and this idjit-“

Dean’s face comes up into view, one eye already swelling shut, and he looks at Sam with this desolate expression. “Let him go.”

Sam can’t take it, releases Bobby with a shove and watches the hunter’s feet slip out from beneath him. Sam stares at both of them for a long time, lets out a breath and then shakes his head, disgust overwhelming him. “She’s in there, she’s blind, she had a seizure, and you’re out here fighting? Fine. Kill each other. I’m done.”

He turns his back on them, loads as many grocery bags on his arms as he can, and then stomps past them up the hill to the kitchen door. He’s honestly surprised when the two come in a moment later, heads hung low carrying the rest of the groceries. Sam puts things away, stares in shock that he apparently grabbed a jar of baby food in his wandering, and then looks up after he’s finished to see both of them standing there looking like beaten puppies.

Bobby's hands are bloody, Dean’s blood, Sam’s blood come to think of it, and he has to close his eyes against the spike of emotions. “Go get cleaned up. Now.”

They obey, and Sam takes a spot at the table and tries to figure out what happened to his life. His neat and orderly life. Ophelia’s right, he has to make this decision. Dean won’t. That face said it all. Dean’s apology over touching him, Dean’s aversion to his skin, all of it has explained more about Dean to Sam than any of their conversations ever could.

The man is self-destructing right in front of Sam, has talked himself into believing their relationship was an extension of the rest of Sam’s misery and that Dean is responsible for all of it. Dean’s self-loathing is even more complete than Sam’s, and that’s a feat really. He has to handle this, has to talk to Dean, but it has to wait for after he’s figured out what to do with his blind friend and the angry older hunter.

It’s while his mind is ticking over points, listing the things he’s going to have to change in the house and what he’ll need to research about living with a blind person that he hears Ope’s voice come from the living room, panicked and confused.

“Sam? Dean? Somebody?”

Sam’s up in a second, crossing into the living room and spying Bobby and Dean rushing out of the back from the corner of his eye. She’s sitting up on the couch, blue eyes sweeping the space emptily and her hands held out in front of her. Sam grabs her right hand and watches her jump and then feels the tight squeeze. Her pupils are constricted, the light affecting them without her knowledge, and she tugs once to suggest Sam come closer.

“You ok Ope? Feel sick or anything?”

“Where’s Dean?” She sounds panicked still, and Sam sees fine tremors in the muscles of her hand.

“Right here sweetheart.” Bobby shoots him an ugly look but Dean’s gaze is fixed on her. “What’s the matter?”

“I thought you left.” She sounds like a child woken from a nightmare for a second, and Sam feels grief cramp his face until he stomps it down and speaks soothingly.

“He’s still here. Bobby's here too.” She tensed, leaned back from Sam, and then shook her head and rubbed her face.

“Sammy, you and Dean need to talk. Alone. Leave me with Bobby.” Her face is grim, her hands squeezing his once again before she lets go and Sam holds on for an extra second. When he stands he crosses the room and grabs Bobby's arm.

In the years he’s known both of them Sam rarely steps into their issues. It’s his place, he didn’t think that originally but time has taught him he has some rights to her, but the dynamic is too tangled for Sam to ever really understand it. He’s going to step in this time though, because he’ll be damned if Bobby rushes in to this one. He pitched his voice very quiet in Bobby's ear. “I hear one raised voice, one lecture or insult, I’ll be back in here before you can blink. You got me?”

Sam’s worked hard at avoiding violence since he left Texas, but he’s willing to make exceptions. Bobby's face suggests that Sam hasn’t lost the edge he gained in his bad years. Bobby nods once, tight, and then pulls away and heads to the couch. Sam’s last view of them is Bobby putting her hand on his weathered face, and then he ducked through the door to the bedrooms and listened to Dean’s hesitant steps behind him.

They end up in Ophelia’s bedroom, neutral territory Sam figures, and they stand on either side of her bed staring at the floor instead of each other. Eventually Sam has to break the silence, can’t stand there and take the tension anymore. He keeps one ear cocked towards the door even as he speaks. “Dean. You ok?”

Sam hears the sharp inhale, and turns fully to see Dean’s face. The green eyes, usually so bright and vivid are dead and dull, one swollen half shut, and Dean’s plush lips are pulled into a tight line. Sam waits for Dean to speak, tired of interpreting and unwilling to guess incorrectly. “I’m not-Sam that’s not what you need to be worried about. I can take care of myself.”

“So I’m not allowed to worry about you now? Why? Because you’re older than me? You were older than me before this morning and I could worry about you then.” It’s as close to light-hearted as he can get.

Dean’s mouth stretched tighter, lips almost non-existent, and his hands came up and gestured oddly. “Because I’m the older brother and it’s my job to-“

“You’re not my brother.” Sam feels a cramp of sympathy and grief at the look that crosses Dean’s face. The agony there is almost overwhelming, and he has to tighten every muscle to keep himself on this side of the bed.

Dean swallowed and looked away from him. “Sam I know you’re angry. I know I’ve done horrible things, but I didn’t know. I’m sorry Sammy. I just-“

“It’s not about anything you did or didn’t do.” Sam watched the eyes fly to him, and the fading light hit Dean’s angular face just right to shadow the bruised side, hide everything but the swollen nose. “I’m not your brother Dean. I don’t want to be. My parents are non-existent, my sister is in the living room blind and having seizures, that’s the extent of my family dude. I don’t need more than that, and I don’t have more than that.”

Dean’s mouth worked silently, the agony only deepening on his face. “Sammy-“

“No.” His voice is harsh, thick, and he doesn’t want it to be because he’s hurting Dean enough but this has to be said. “I wasn’t looking for the people who left me because I wanted to reconnect with them. I just wanted to understand. Shit, I still do but I don’t need more family than I already have.” He finally gave in, crossed around the bed and took Dean’s elbow. The older man didn’t fight him, didn’t pull away, but the muscles in that arm became steel. “You can’t change the past Dean. The time we would have been brothers, bonded, all of that stuff, it’s lost. Gone. I’m not interested in being your brother and I can’t be. Your baby brother died in a fire Dean, and all that you’re looking at is the man you fell in love with. The man that’s in love with you.”

Dean’s head was already shaking, and he pulled his arm away. “You don’t-you can’t mean that. We’re blood Sam. We’re family. What happened was a terrible mistake but we can-“

Sam grabbed him again, his face this time, and turned it so Dean had to look at him for the rest of it. “Sleeping with me was a mistake? Saying you loved me was a mistake?” Sam tries to keep his tone gentle, but it’s laced with desperation and despair and he can’t stop that. Can’t hide it because he’s denying Dean the same way Dean is now denying him.

“Sam, please, you have to understand. It’s different now. We know now.” Dean’s face is begging him, begging that Sam will let the rest go and just be Dean’s little brother. Give him the chance at redemption he’s wanted for so long. Which is unfortunate because it’s the only thing Sam isn’t willing to give him.

“I don’t care about blood Dean. I don’t care what genetics or society would say or any of the rest of it. What I care about is what we were building before Ophelia found out the big secret. If you don’t want that, then there’s nothing more to say.” He released Dean and stepped away, left the room and walked out into the living room without looking back. If he did he was afraid Dean’s pleading gaze would crumble his resolve.





----

Dean avoided everyone, hung back in Ophelia’s room until the dark had fully descended. No one came in to bother him, and no one tried to get him to come out. He was glad.

He’d fucked it all up. Any chances of an easy transition, any chances of having his baby brother back, all of it gone and Dean could only sit there and pout about it like a fucking bitch. Sam didn’t understand what he was saying, too twisted from everything that had happened and Dean certainly hadn’t helped.

Bad enough for Sam to have to fight to survive a string of terrible foster families and then an abusive boyfriend, but now the first guy that comes along turns out to be the one who left Sam to that fate. Dean couldn’t have made this worse if he tried, and how the fuck could he miss that? What kind of brother didn’t even recognize his own sibling? Sure it had been years, but there should have been something Dean noticed, something that set off warning bells and made him step back. Instead he’d twisted his instincts, talked them into believing it was some sort of romance movie love instead of a brotherly connection.

Worse, his actions had made it impossible for Sam to see him as anything else. Sam had no memories of him, had been too young for Dean to make any sort of impression, which left him blameless in this whole fiasco. Somehow, someway, Dean had to fix this. Had to get Sam to see that they were brothers and that came first, that they could never be what they were again. The whole thing was a goddamn lie anyway, and the twisting in Dean’s stomach at the thought of never touching Sam again could go straight to hell.

When he came out of his internal rant he saw that the sun had set entirely, and he made his way out of the bedroom silently. He needed to get out, get some air, and he slipped onto the porch before he heard murmuring around the corner. He followed the line of the house through the darkness and saw their outlines on the bench.

He peered at Bobby sitting beside Ophelia, and then Bobby stood up and spoke softly. “O, Dean’s here.” Dean’s never heard the nickname before, affectionate and gentle in a way he hasn't seen Bobby be since he was a little boy being dropped off by his dad. In the darkness he can’t see more than their outlines, but he does pick up Ophelia’s gentle response.

“Ok. Go to bed Bobby. Dean will make sure I get in safely.”

He doesn’t have to see Bobby to see the indecision, the hesitation, and then she’s shoving him through the dark and Bobby stumbles past him and disappears around the corner. He heard her pat the bench beside her and Dean took the spot and felt her hand settle on his thigh before sliding to his knee. Less intimate but still contact.

Her voice is embarrassed and apologetic when it reaches him. “You and Bobby are so fucking quiet if I don’t touch you I won’t know if you’ve left. How are you?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” It’s honestly perplexed instead of harsh, and Dean’s not even sure where it came from.

“Why shouldn't I be?” Her tone matches his and she squeezes his knee once before her other hand is fumbling with a cigarette and lighting it. In the flare of the Bic he can see her face, infinitely sad. 

Why shouldn’t she be? The question is too big, has too many answers, and Dean can’t find the words for all of them. He’s inadvertently blinded her, he’s the reason Sam’s so tortured, he’s twisted Sam so badly that the kid can’t even see how important it is that they’re blood, and now he’s going to break Sam’s damn heart when he finally explains that knowledge or no knowledge incest is unacceptable.

He settles for the simple answer, the culmination of all these events. “I’ve fucked up everything.”

“Did you? I missed that. Well you’re right then, fuck you Dean.” Her tone is gentle even if her words aren’t. He bites back his anger for half a second, and then just lets go.

“Is this all a fucking joke to you? I molested my little brother, that doesn’t get better. He’s so fucked up he thinks that we should keep going like we never heard we’re related. I talked you into getting blinded. Don’t kid yourself sweetheart, it probably ain’t temporary. You’re in the dark for life and the next language you tuck under your belt better be Braille.” Even Dean’s shocked with himself, but when he finishes he’s breathing heavy with both hands clenched into fists and he wants so badly to hit something he can taste blood in his mouth.

She’s silent for a long time, so long Dean’s anger drains away and all he feels is shame. The cigarette is almost to the filter, and he takes it from her fingers and crushes it under his heel while he sits in the dark and the quiet.

“Ophelia-fuck I’m sorr-“

“Shut up Dean.” Her hand on his knee is still there, steady and calm, and he can’t see her face but he hears the dangerous tone of her voice. She stands, takes several steps forward and then turns his way and he can see the outline of her arms as she gestures around her. “You self-pitying bastard shut the fuck up before someone other than me has to hear your bullshit.”

Dean watches her head dip down, her hands still moving as if she’s talking out loud, and then she lifts her head back up. “I knew the price and I fucking paid it partially for you but mostly for Sam because you’re no good to him broken. So that’s not your fault ‘cause I would have done it with or without your permission you arrogant prick. The answer though, oh fuck, that just made you worse and I kinda knew that was possible too so that’s on me. But Sam? What’s happening with him? That is your fault. Not the part where he was alone for so long, but that you’ve denigrated what was the first time he felt loved and cherished by another human being to some dirty grope session. Molested him? Did you fucking say that to him? No wonder he’s so-“She cuts off and her hands flail for a second helplessly. Dean watches her swerve around and hold her hands out to navigate the air in front of her.

She takes three steps, trips over a potted plant and catches herself on the wall cursing vehemently before he stands up and takes her elbows, holds tightly against her struggle. “Let me get you inside. Just let me get you inside.”

She does, and when they reach the door and he opens it he leads her towards the bedrooms and realizes he has no idea where she wants to go, or where he’s supposed to be. If he had any decency at this point he’d go to the car and just leave. Crawl off and die like a dog. She points, angrily, and whisper shouts at him. “You take my bed. Sleep there. Stay 'til Sam tells you to go or you decide your whiny bullshit is more important than he is.” She pushes his hand off her elbow, feels around 'til she finds the doorknob for Sam’s room, and then stumbles through it.

He hears Sam say her name in alarm and then she closes the door behind her and he’s left alone in the hallway, more ashamed than he’s ever been in his entire life.





----



Sam watches her struggle to remove the extra layers, and then find the bed, but he doesn’t offer to help. Her face says she needs to do it alone. “Fight with Bobby?”

She’s settling her head on the pillow before she answers, and Sam watches her expressive face cycle through guilt and anger until it rests on anger. “No.”

It’s enough, he knows what she means, and he wraps her up in his arms and inhales her smell. “He insult you?”

“No. Fuck Sam they’re both head cases.” She’s rubbing at her face like she can scrub the emotions off of it. Sam hasn’t missed that she's all over the place. Apparently can't respond appropriately without visual cues.

Sam reached behind him and flicked off the lamp before pulling her back against him tightly. “Ope. I made a decision. I told him.” He felt her nod and he tried not to stiffen around her, tried to be relaxed no matter what her response ended up being. “You disgusted with me?”

She made a noise, and then he felt a small fist punch into his side weakly. “I could never be. Never. I told you I’d stand behind you Sam and I damn well meant it.”

He let her relax, start to fall asleep, and then he struck when she was most vulnerable. “Are you scared?”

Sam felt her sigh, felt her hands grip at his shirt, and then release before she spoke. “All the time. Ever since I woke up.”

There was a slight hesitation before he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be scared Ope. Nothing’s going to happen to you while I’m around.”

When Sam woke up she was already awake, gone, and he found her in the kitchen sitting silently at the table with Dean across from her, a scowl on her face. Sam met the green eyes once, watched them skitter away, and felt a brief flare of the same despair before he announced himself and touched her shoulder.

“Good morning Sam. Dean was just offering to make me breakfast, and I was just giving him the silent treatment. Now that you’re here kindly tell him to self-flagellate somewhere else.”

Dean’s eyebrow quirked. “I don’t know that word sweetheart.”

Sam glanced between them and then went to the fridge to get the milk before pouring her a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, setting it down in front of her and then sliding the ashtray closer. “Sam tell Dean he should get a damn dictionary. And then he can fuck right the hell off.”

“You’re better at staring contests than the silent treatment.” It’s obvious Dean is trying to be funny, apologetic to her, and Ophelia turns her head in his direction and raises her pierced eyebrow before proving to Sam and Dean that she’s really mad instead of pretending to be mad.

“I’m even better at them now than I was before.” Her tone is cutting, cold, and Dean’s face goes slack and expressionless, his eyes hooded as he sits back in his chair.

Sam can’t take it this early, and he slams a hand down on the table and feels a flood of guilt when she jumps a foot. “No more arguing. I don’t know what was said and I don’t care. Dean, apologize, Ophelia, be civil.”

He’s honestly surprised at how authoritative he sounds, more surprised when they both hang their heads in shame. Dean looks up first. “I’m sorry Ope. I was a real asshole last night.”

She frowned, tilted her head, and then nodded once as if she was listening to something far away. She held one hand out in his direction and Dean leaned over to take it. “Apology accepted. Stop being an asshole.” There’s a weight to her words but she holds Dean’s hand long enough to show there aren’t hard feelings.

Sam watches her struggle to eat until she gets a rough system down. Today will be about research, and Sam’s no slouch at it.  He keeps glancing at Dean though, watching the other man watch her fight with the spoon until she gets it under control. At some point Dean looks over to see Sam staring, and the pink lips struggle to smile. Sam stands abruptly and puts his bowl in the sink. When he looks back Ophelia’s face is pointed in his direction, but all she says is, “Sam I want my sunglasses. Can you get them?”

Sam goes looking through his room for where she no doubt dropped them and eventually unearths her shades from under her heavy sweater. He’s back at the kitchen door in time to hear Dean say, “-slow down. Where are you?”

When he steps in Dean has a cell phone pressed to the side of his face and his eyes are cutting between the window and Ophelia’s face.

“Yeah, I can be there in twenty-nine or thirty hours. Don’t make a move dad. I’m serious.” There’s a pause, and Dean’s eyes land on him heavily. “Dad. When I get there, after we gank the son of bitch we have to talk. I found Sam.”

Dean nods once, at what Sam doesn’t know, and then he hangs up. His whole demeanor changes in a matter of seconds, the lines in his face harsh and cold, his body tight, and Sam knows the look. Danger is the first word it conjures up, danger and then blood. It’s strange that Sam doesn’t feel the familiar shiver of fear though, just fascination and vague arousal.

Dean’s eyes stay locked on him. “I have to go Sam. Azazel’s popped his head out and dad has a- it doesn’t matter. When it’s over I’m going to bring him here and we’re going to figure this all out. Ok?”

“Yeah. Ok. But Dean?”

Dean’s mind is already wherever he’s going to meet his father, Sam’s father, but he can’t think like that. Doesn’t want to. “Yeah Sammy?”

“It’s not going to change my mind.”





----





Dean wakes Bobby up before he leaves. “Bobby, dad just called. He found the Colt and Azazel. He says it works and he wants us there.”

Bobby looks half-dead, eyes mostly closed, and Dean suspects his stumbling last night had less to do with the dark and more to do with alcohol, a vice he will have to forgo this close to the prize.

“Yeah boy. Ok. Let me get my things.” Hungover but still sharp, on point, and Dean feels a little better about the weird tension he's had since the call came in.

Dean grabs his duffel and heads out the door. He nods once to Sam, can’t respond to his brother’s parting shot, and then leans down and kisses Ophelia’s temple. It surprises him almost as much as it surprises her.

There’s a wave of tenderness that crosses her face and then she strikes out blindly and lands a good solid punch on his forearm. “Come back safe dickhead.”

He’s out the door before he can promise anything he can’t keep. He wonders really how much of the future the goddess showed her, whether or not she’s seen the outcome of this, but he won’t ask. All he really wanted from the ritual was the past. Whatever Jana thinks about the future isn’t Dean’s problem. He’s always believed in writing his own story.




----





They land in Osceola, Arkansas an hour earlier than he planned. His father has chosen an abandoned house as base camp, and Dean’s not surprised to see Bobby looks uncomfortable. The older man knows the truth about Sam now, and they haven't talked about it. Even on the long car ride they simply stayed silent. What does surprise him is how tense his dad looks. It would be acceptable if it was the kind of tension that comes before a battle, but this is different. Bobby eyes Dean warily and John won’t even look at him.

“What’d I do now?” He tries to make it sound affable, but instead he sounds angry. Which is fair, because he is angry. Very angry. If Ope is right, and he believes she is, John willingly gave Sam up and Caleb was in on it. Dad doesn’t know that Dean has that much information, so he can’t figure out why he looks so worried about it. There’s no way he can know how mad he is. Dean wants to control it though, because he can’t tell his father that he crossed a line he never should have crossed. That’s he’s done the unforgivable.

“Tell me how you found Sam Dean.” John’s voice is commanding even if his face isn’t. Dean’s powerless against it really, he’s spent his whole life following his father’s commands and it’s only just started to hit him that this may not be the way it’s supposed to be.

Dean’s tilting his head down, pretending to consider the floor for this next part. “The girl in Maine. She started researching how to find him and then she did.” Dean leaves out that she’s been taking care of Sam, and he’s not sure why. Bobby and dad share a glance he watches in his peripheral vision, and then dad takes up the thread.

"This Jeff Burton's girl Bobby? The witch?"

Bobby's face cramps once with something Dean recognizes as danger, but he only nods tightly without really meeting dad's eyes.

“Does she know how he survived the fire?” It’s not the question Dean wanted.

“Yeah. She does. Do you?” Now he’s looking them both full on, and Bobby looks confused and uncomfortable, but his dad looks defiant.

“We’ll discuss this later. You get to sleep in the car, we’re moving on to where Azazel is going to be.” To show that he’s done discussing it John turns his back on Dean and walks away. It leaves him with Bobby, who’s fiddling with his trucker cap and avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Bobby, you know I can't forgive him right? That this is a step too fucking far?”

Bobby looks at him then, grizzled face guilty and distant. “Yeah boy, I do. Believe me I do.”

Dean thought of Sam holding his face and denying their status as brothers, thought of Sam on his knees riding him, and felt his fists clench so tight his blunt fingernails cut his palms. “I'm gonna get answers from him.”




-----





Sam spends the first day Dean is gone reading website after website. He moves his computer desk into the living room and installs the software she’s going to need, screen reading and voice-to-text programs, and then when that’s done he sits her down and begins to explain them before he strings ropes up throughout the house.

They spend the second day Dean is gone going over positioning. Wherever she remembers a thing is where they put it, and Sam impresses upon her the importance of following her detailed memory instead of saying she doesn’t know. For the most part she’s right, and Sam makes sure that she holds the guide rope and touches each object to cement it in her memory. He makes her count off steps, sixteen steps from his computer to the kitchen archway, another twelve to the back hallway, and then seven to the bathroom and five from there to her room, ten to Sam’s. He memorizes the numbers with her, helps to make sure she keeps her pace slow and even so that the steps are the same without her going heel to toe.

It’s a process, and he struggles to make sure that he doesn’t push her too hard but he doesn’t help her too much either. She’s got bruises by the time they’re done, but she grins broadly when she finds the beer in the fridge on her own, gets the bottle opener, and then opens her own beer. She misses the trash can when she throws the bottle cap away, but Sam’s too busy wiping his eyes to notice.

It’s on the night of the second day that the nightmare comes, and Sam knows without needing the nausea and headache afterwards that it’s one of the special ones. He gets them anyway. He wakes from the dream screaming, the image of Dean in the backseat of a car with a strange man and Bobby, the truck slamming into it burned into his memory as Ophelia thrashes upwards beside him and grabs for him.

She struggles blindly to get Sam to the trashcan before the vomiting takes over, and then he’s reaching helplessly for her shirt and begging, begging her to call Dean. Call him now, because Dean’s about to die. Sam’s seen it. He sees the question on her face and shakes her shoulders too harshly. “I’m fucking telling you Ope it’s like before. Call. Now.”

Ope obeys, fumbling with the phone, gets Dean’s voicemail, and leaves him a message about Sam’s dream. Sam refuses the pills, doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss Dean calling back, and then the two of them sit up in the kitchen until the sun rises, but the call never comes.




----




Dean’s been gone for five days and Sam can’t stand it, his skin is crawling and they still haven’t heard anything. No text messages, no calls, nothing. Ophelia doesn’t bother trying to soothe him, instead she submits to his need for distraction. They go over placement more, handle how she’ll shower and use the bathroom. The first time she pours herself a glass of milk without spilling it all over the counter Sam knows she’s crying even if she tries to hide it.

The seventh day is when the answer comes. The sun has started to set and Ope's pushing him to eat at least one of the hotdogs he’s made. When her phone rings she pulls it out and fumbles it open in a matter of seconds. Sam grips the arms of the chair so tightly he’s amazed they don’t break, holds on though just so he won’t try to grab the phone from Ope and scream into it.

He gets this half of the conversation only, Ope's head nodding businesslike as she half-repeats what’s being said for Sam’s benefit.

“In the hospital, alive but critical. Car accident. Azazel dead.” Ope's face tightens, but Sam can't read the expression, doesn't want to really. Critical. Dean was critical. Sam reached out and took Ophelia’s hand, gripped it tightly, and then held it so that he wouldn’t surge upwards and run.

“Ok Bobby. Keep me updated.” Ope's face goes troubled for a second, but her voice comes out calm and controlled. “Yes I'm fine. It's fine.” Blue eyes swept over the room and Sam felt what little blood was left warm go cold. He started to shake at that look. “I see.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Yeah I’ll do that Bobby.”

When Ope hung up she rubbed wearily at her face before speaking. “They killed the demon, and then some other piece of shit ran them down in an eighteen-wheeler. They’re all alive but it’s touch and go for Dean right now. Sam?”

”How touch and go?” It’s not what he wants to ask but his lips feel numb and he can’t make them move in the formation of the words he wants. Will Dean die?

“Very.”

Sam feels the breath lock in his throat, his hand shaking in Ophelia’s tight grip, and he turns to look at her but her face is pointed awkwardly between the window and the space she knows Sam occupies.

“Ok."

"Um, there's one other thing. Bobby is-” She rubs at her face again and then clears her throat. "Bobby needs to know everything. About Brady. He said it's important." 

There are no more words. There's nothing left to say.

Comments

[sammichgirl]

Sam, Sam, Sam! Oh, my heart hurts.

Dean, you sonuvabitch. How could you, I mean, I get your thinking and it's a blow and you're overwhelmed but c'mon, you can't just SAY that shit. Not to Sam.

And John. Fucker. How could he and Caleb do that to baby Sam? To Dean? To their FAMILY?

And now Sam has to talk about Brady? Which means, everything will come to light, and Dean's gonna know. And Sam's gonna feel worse.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Dean's the master of saying things he never should have. I'm thinking specifically of Season Five here.

John's reasoning will become clear later, but for now he'll just have to be a huge jerk.

[nickitynackity.livejournal.com]

Oh no! I love how you are mixing some canon (18 wheeler) in with your story. And poor Sam and Dean. Brothers or Lovers? I mentioned before that even though I've read plenty of wincest stories, I often quit reading before the end if the author doesn't handle it right. Even two characters like Sam and Dean that have been raised so outside the norm would have to be opposed to incest.
But, this is the type of story that I find believable. A situation where they didn't know the facts, and have to come to terms with them one way or another. Well done!

And Ophelia. Well, she is just made of awesome and there has to be a miracle cure for her.
:)

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I'm glad it works, because I know it's not everybody's thing. :D I think you're right though, a seamless transition always seems questionable.

I'm really glad you like Ophelia. :)

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

There was no way Dean wasn't going to break Sam's heart. And so Dean to be shocked Sam won't accept it.

Ophelia--still the coolest character ever. She's just the sister Sam needed.

John--what the hell!!!!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Yeah John in this story makes me kind of crazy, but he did that in the show too. As for Dean...you're coming on up what I honestly think is the best thing I've ever written, and I hope you like it. :)