In Medias Res (5/6)
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dime_lioraEaton, Colorado October 2nd, 2008
His control is close to breaking. They've been drinking for a while now, and there's not much on his stomach to absorb it. Somehow he finds himself with a plate full of pie and a fork. Nate plops beside him and begins on his own slice. "Sadie's a good cook. Says it's all about the science of it."
The man isn't lying. The pie is incredible, and he looks up to see her watching him without speaking. "'S good."
Sadie nods and then steeples her scarred fingers. "You two should go to sleep after this. Sam is probably tired, and I imagine you are too."
Which is true, but he really needs to finish learning every aspect of the ritual, and all of the cure. Although at this point it's hard to remember any of it. The whole thing is so convoluted and difficult to follow that Dean's having trouble keeping all of it straight. He just wants to grab Sam and get him talking again. Wants to hear that husky and thick voice again. Wants his brother to be alright.
"So all I gotta do is order him around and make him figure out when it is. That doesn't seem impossible."
Sadie's eyes skitter away and Nate bites his lip. "It isn't impossible, but it's going to be difficult. Sadie tried going back into the world too fast and it almost broke her."
"Yeah but she got-I mean it was different. The demons and the kid with the-" He stops at the other hunter shaking his head. "What?"
"The kid picked her up from here. She went back to work for two weeks before the demon-sightings started. That wasn't what made her ask to teach from home."
Dean's turning away from him and towards Sadie even if he doesn't want to. Even if he longs for an escape. Longs to run as fast as possible. "What happened?" Asking is like dragging himself across the grass all over again. Carrying Sam's weight up the muddy road and towards the Impala as he began to map out the nearest crossroads. This is the answer that will determine the rest of Dean's life.
"I got-I get confused. About where I am. The more people I have to keep track of or events that get added the harder it is to follow. I started teaching the wrong classes. Couldn't identify anyone. Then one day I was speaking with a colleague and I thought he was-I just." Sadie blew out a long breath and looked towards Sam. "Porter Clewsky was this windbag that helped me with my dissertation. I don't remember who I thought he was, but I basically told him that I'd really done it. Later I honestly didn't believe he would think it was anything other than a mental break, but he must have believed it. He told Sam about it after all. A few days after that a student came to argue a grade and I didn't recognize her. I went away. Lost all handle on where and when I was and then the next thing I knew Nate was there, and I was home, and it had been a month. I worked out a contract with the school to work from home, to reduce the number of classes I was teaching, but publish more. I do satellite lectures that bring in money and prestige, and as long as I don't have to recognize anyone then I can function fairly well."
"And it's been?"
"Five years." Sadie's face is almost apologetic. "It's been five years."
The chair underneath him doesn't feel steady anymore, and Dean brings his hands up to his face to try to stop the world from spinning. There's a hand on his elbow, a voice across from him, but all he can see is Sam. Sam's blank face. Sam, lost and broken and so incredibly delicate that Dean could shatter what little is held together with a wayward thought or a simple gesture. Sam who will not be able to hunt. Sam who won't be able to function in society, be left alone, take care of himself. Sam'll need constant care and supervision. He'll need to be slowly brought back and then kept that way. Dean can't buy a house to hole Sam up, can't promise him safety and stability. Shit Dean can barely keep himself alive.
"What am I supposed to do?" He remembers the shack, Sam dead, and the memory is so present it's jarring. His brother is dead again, and Dean's being asked to give up his whole life one more time in the interest of protecting Sam. To resurrect him again. No more hunting. No more anything. How will he support him and watch out for him? How can he possibly fix this? When his eyes finally swing back to Nate he sees sympathy but no pity.
"I don't know man. That's up to you."
Before Dean can think of a response, before he could find words to leave his mouth Sadie held up a hand. "Sleep. Everyone should get some sleep. Decisions cannot be made intellectually while tired."
He sees a spark in her then, a sign of something that was probably once Sadie McCullough, the reluctant genius. It reminds him oddly of Ash, and that's a memory just as painful as the rest. Dean listens though. Gets up and leads Sam upstairs. Gets Sam to brush his teeth and use the bathroom before bed, and how did he not notice it before? That Sam responded to direct commands. That he listened to Dean when he gave clear orders. It's the worst side-effect Sam could possibly have because it's against every bit of his little brother's nature. When he gets back to himself-
And then it hits Dean again. Sam may never come back. Sam may never be his bright, inquisitive, pain-in-the-ass little brother again. The bed rushes up to meet him and Dean buries his face in his hands. Sam's standing in the doorway with his hands dangling at his sides and Dean can't take it. It's too much weight. Too much. There are tears, and he's absurdly grateful that Sam can't really see them. Which is probably why he jumps when big hands touch his shoulders. He looks up to see Sam kneeling in front of him, and his brother's face is still slack and expressionless, but there are tears tracing down it. Sam's oddly delicate fingers trace the wet lines on Dean's face and then his voice is a cracked and harsh echo of what it once was.
"Dean. Sorry." Sam's fingers roam over his lips, tracing his tears across the skin there, and then move up again to the hollows under his eyes. "Sorry Dean."
He wants to get up and go. Get away from that blank look and that shattered voice, those gentle touches that remind him too much of that last night together. Instead Dean grabs Sam's shoulder, pulls him in tight, and then topples them both into the bed. It's uncomfortable and awkward, but he doesn't want it to end because Sam isn't pulling away or tensing at his touch. Sam's letting himself be held. Dean's still crying, still gripping Sam too tight, but his brother doesn't make even the slightest noise of protest. Just lies there and lets himself be held. Dean runs fingers through Sam's too long hair and talks softly.
"Yeah I know you are kid. I know. I'm sorry too Sammy. Sorry I put you in that spot and sorry I didn't think you'd do something crazy right back. Just sorry, 'cause I ain't sure what to do now."
Sam doesn't talk again though. Lets himself be held, but doesn't talk. Dean falls asleep like that, Sam draped over him heavy and warm.
--------
Eaton, Colorado February 14th, 2003
Her head is warm and heavy on his shoulder. Nate watches her for a long time. Watches the way her hands flutter uselessly near her mouth and how small she looks sitting in the chair with her knees drawn up. Watches until she finally looks up at him.
"What am I supposed to do here babe? What do you want me to do with you?"
"I could go back to work. The notoriety will die down in a little while, and when that happens I can go back and try again. I can be independent Nate. I promise." She sounds ten again. Assuring him that everything will be alright if he leaves her to watch herself. It didn't work then either.
"Nope. Option is off the table Sadie. Right now we're looking at you staying here or me putting you in an institution. I can't-"
"I won't be locked up. Please don't lock me up. Maybe I can work from here. Satellite, distance learning, or I'll just write. I can make enough off of that."
"Sadie if I stay…listen I'm a hunter babe. We've talked about this before, and we can talk about it 'til we're blue in the face. I can't always be here. I can't promise I'll always come back."
Her fingers twist together and then she pulls away. "Never mind. I'm not interested in arguing. Please do whatever you feel is necessary, and I will take care of myself." It's Sadie's grand defense. Anytime she gets too tense or embarrassed she shuts down and becomes a robot.
"Sit down." It's the first time he's ever used it against her, and her blank face proves he won't be able to do it again. "We're gonna talk this shit out. You don't wanna go to an institution? Fine. You'll stay here. I'll keep the hunts as nearby as I can, and I'll be able to come if you need me. But if this happens again Sadie then what? And if I die? Then what?"
There's a strange look on her face. Something not exactly sly, but knowing and old. Her right hand taps her left one calmly as she looks at nothing. Or maybe it's everything. Nate doesn't know anymore.
"You won't have to worry anymore. That's what you want anyway." It's the kind of one-liner people use to storm away, but she stays perfectly still because Nate told her to sit. He feels lower than he ever has before.
-----
Cicero, Indiana July 16th, 1999
Dean's never felt lower. The girl is gorgeous, funny, and he's having a good time. It's everything he's never been allowed to have before, and it all pales in comparison to the memory of that kiss with Sam. He's so fucked up he can't even begin to comprehend it. This is beyond anything he's been prepared for. A part of him wants to get back in the Impala and go to Florida. Grab Sam and pin him up against a wall and finish what they started. But his brother is a kid. A desperate kid and Dean can't do that. Can't cross that one line, because it's the last thing Sam has that's normal. His brother is his brother, and that's something Dean can't take from him.
So when his five days are up and he reconnects with Sam and Dad there's a distance between them that there's never been before. Dean put it there though, so he shouldn't be surprised. He's careful not to touch anymore, and if that bothers Sam there's no way to tell. Instead they move from room to room without making eye contact. Sam's body language gets progressively tighter, colder, and Dean tries to ignore it. Sam will get over it. Sam will be glad when he figures out that Dean is giving him what he needs even if it isn't what he wants. Except Sam doesn't seem to believe that, and then his little brother gets the acceptance letter.
Dean wants to be prepared. Wants to pretend that he knew it was coming and it's a relief. Instead it's a living, writhing thing behind his ribs eating his heart out of his chest. Working its way nice and slow to the surface. When Dad finds the letter, and the fight begins, Dean wants to be anywhere else. Wants to shout along with them, but that's never been his thing. He's always been the one to step in between them and break it up before they can go to far. Except this time he can't. This time he's rooted to the spot by what he knows is coming afterwards. There's nothing his father can say that will change Sam's mind, and nothing Sam can say that will fix what's broken. Then his dad crosses the finish line for the hurtful shit race they're having. "If you walk out that door don't you ever come back."
Dean watches Sam shoot him a look, questioning and enraged, and Dean says nothing. Bites the inside of his mouth so hard he tastes blood and bile, but he says nothing. So Sam packs a bag, and Dad leaves for the bar. Sam stops at the doorway and stares at him for a long time. "I didn't want this Dean."
"Yeah, well, you sent off your box tops and won the prize Sam. No sense complaining now."
"Tell me to stay or come with me." There's no inflection in Sam's voice. No emotion or expression in his face. He's grown so tall Dean's not eye-level with him anymore. His little brother is almost an adult, and Dean missed it somewhere. Sometime in between avoiding him and wanting him Dean missed the full transformation. Sam's almost a stranger now.
"Do what you're gonna do." It's not what he wants. He wants to grab Sam and hold him down. Tie him to the bed and take him so that Sam will never leave. Whatever has to be done so that Dean can have his goddamn family. Or maybe he wants to leave with Sam, but he just can't figure out how. How to walk away from Dad and the life. Maybe if things were different. Maybe if they had the yellow-eyed demon locked in Hell, or if they had some idea that Dad wouldn't get himself killed or drink himself to death as soon as no one was around to watch him. There's nothing left to say, and then Sam leaves.
Dean drinks himself blind that night. Wakes up the next morning and starts again the same way he always has. Stumbles through his hangover and packs up, and he and Dad leave one person short. The Impala has never felt so big or so empty. There's one thing he promises himself. If he ever gets the chance to make it up to Sam he'll do it. Do it and be grateful that just once he was given a second chance. But he isn't holding out hope for that.
------
Palo Alto, California November 2nd, 2005
He's not holding out hope that it's a miracle cure for what's ailing them, but it's a step and they've taken it. There's still a divide between them, but being with Dean again was everything. Even if it was only for a short while sliding back into the Impala was like coming home. Sitting so close he could smell Dean and listening to his shitty music and bad jokes… It's beyond Sam's ability to explain how much it means to him really. Which is awful on so many levels that he's left feeling flushed and guilty at the thought of it. Of going inside and seeing Jess. Seeing her and knowing that the whole thing is a lie Sam's concocted to try to leave his brother behind. Dean always thought Sam was the weaker liar, but look at how well he's done.
There are cookies in the kitchen, and Sam takes one as he heads upstairs. The familiar sounds of Jess showering, and the softness of the bed he knows so well is all comforting, but not as visceral and intense as the Impala or Dean. Will things change? Will they be able to make it up, to be better, or will Dean drop off the face of the earth again and leave Sam behind? It doesn't matter, because if Sam wants he can push it now. Dean's opened the door, and Sam's never been good at being told what to do. The door is open again. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Sam wakes up to his childhood. He's heard the story a thousand times but he doesn't remember any of it. Now he knows. Pretty blonde woman pinned to the ceiling, fire and blood, and Dean carrying him out. For half a second when Dean pulls him up Sam forgets he's supposed to be devoted to the woman dying above him. He grabs at Dean, holds on, because he's so strong. Shorter, yes, but stronger than Sam could ever hope to be. Dean is a pillar of marble, an immovable force, and Sam's known it his whole life. Even when they were kids there's never been anyone as fierce and strong as Dean. Then duty and guilt kick in and Sam tries to pull away, to go back into the inferno, and Dean's dragging him out. Out into the cool air and the lack of fire, and it's them again. Sam the defenseless baby and Dean the protective older brother. He pushes, struggles, but he doesn't want to go. Doesn't want it to end. If Sam had the choice he would just let Dean drag him back to the Impala and then ride as far away as possible. Far from the nice girl that died because Sam needed a distraction. Away from the law school that Sam was going to join to stay in control of the urges he knows will never be satisfied. Should never be satisfied.
Dean carries Sam away from those things, and as soon as they leave Sam hopes he forgets all of them even though he knows he won't. His one shot at normal, and Sam can't remember why he ever thought he could have it. Or why he'd want it.
-------
Eaton, Colorado October 3rd, 2008
The warmth of Sam makes Dean wonder why his body wanted to wake up. His legs are asleep, and that's gonna hurt like a bitch when he tries to get up but eventually he has to. Dean can distantly hear a voice droning on, and realizes it's Sadie but not like he recognizes her. Sam's still sleeping deeply so he slips from the bed, rubs circulation back into his legs as he crosses the hallway and slips through the door. It's her distance learning classroom, and she's standing in front of the dry erase board making a diagram of circles as she lectures. She sounds confident, assured, and her hands move easily as she sketches it out.
"So we have Hobson's Choice, the Catch-22, and Morton's Fork. All of them present us with problems, choices, and solutions. But none of them are enjoyable or preferable. When these are our only options where does Free Will come in?"
A tinny male voice comes from the speakers. "Well they all include choices. So there's our Free Will." There's a collective chuckle from the rest of the class, and Sadie turns to the screen and removes her reading glasses.
"Alright. Fine point. So let's start with Hobson's Choice. You're starving to death Mr-?"
"Denario."
"Yes, of course. You're starving to death Mr. Denario. You stumble your way into a little cafe and there's a display case full of delicious meats and cheeses. Your mouth is watering, your stomach cramping painfully, and there in front of you is everything you could ever want to satisfy those pains. You put down your money and the girl behind the counter hands you moldy bread with a piece of rubbery cheese in it. You want one of the tasty dishes. You're paying for it after all, but she tells you it's this sub-standard fare or nothing at all. What do you choose?"
There's a throat clearing, and then the kid responds somewhat defiantly. "I go somewhere my money is appreciated."
"There's nowhere else Mr. Denario. You have no other choice. Starvation or the worst sandwich she can legally sell you. What do you do?"
Silence for a bit and then the kid's voice comes out resigned. "I eat the sandwich, but that's still a choice Professor McCullough. I have a choice and thusly Free Will."
Sadie's eyes skitter over Dean without ever focusing on him. "I would posit that you don't. A choice between starvation and misery isn't a choice at all. Your natural instincts for survival are pushing you to take what you can get and be grateful for it. It flies in the face of a denotative understanding of choice. You are being forced to eat moldy bread and bad cheese, and you'll please yourself as best you can by insisting that there was a choice to be made. Should I continue with this line of reasoning or stop?"
"No I get it. You're an atheist and you want me to swallow your line of logic and agree." Bitter and self-righteous enough Dean wants to scream.
Something in her face hardens, and Dean's amazed to see it. Wonders what the kid on the other end looks like at this very moment. "I am the furthest one can get from being an atheist Mr. Denario. I am simply informed." She glances at the wall behind Dean and then steeples her fingers. "That's about it for today class. Email your essays regarding one of the three options by Wednesday night, and remember we have no class Monday."
She hits buttons on the computer for several seconds before releasing a deep breath and looking up at Dean. "Did you sleep well?"
"You don't believe we have Free Will?"
There's a pause, hesitation, and then Sadie's fingers tangle tightly and grip each other. "What are you going to do with Sam?"
It's a blow, and a low one, and her face says she knows it. Knows in the context of this what her question means. "How'm I supposed to protect him? How do I earn enough money to keep him alive and off the grid without leaving him? I can't-fuck you lady. Fuck you. He's my brother and I'm supposed to protect him but I can't. That what you wanna hear?"
Sadie stands, hands planted firmly against the desk the computer sits on, and Dean gets the impression it's the only thing holding her up. "I'll take care of him for a price."
That's…well it's not something he was expecting that's for certain. Dean stays in the chair as she continues to hold herself up, and she's taller than him at this angle. He tilts his head a bit to really take in the thin line of her lips and the determination on her face. "What kind of deal you selling sweetheart?"
"If you hunt with Nate. Hunt with him and have his back. Sam can stay here and I'll make sure he gets fed and stays safe. The level of protection on this place is astronomical, and Sam will be safe. As safe as he can be. No one understands what he's going through like I do. So you take care of my friend and I'll take care of your brother. You can visit whenever you like, and that'll be that." Her hands are shaking once the pitch is done. So hard even clenching the desk doesn't hide her trembling.
"You think Nate's gonna go for that? Doesn't seem like an offer he'd be too happy with."
"I don't care. He'll do it if I ask him."
He wants to be harsh with her, but he chooses gentle instead. "Sadie. You can barely take care of yourself. What makes you think you can take care of Sam?"
Nate is there. Dean can sense him this time, and her eyes go over Dean's shoulder and land on the man that will ultimately have a lot to say about this whole thing, and none of it will be good.
"I'm unstable. I understand that. On the other hand I have been where your brother is, and I can understand him too. I can tell you that if you lock him in an asylum he will find a way to kill himself. It's what I was planning to do." There's a harsh intake of breath behind him but she plows forwards as her hands twist together. "Nate was considering the same thing, and for the same reasons. I had to prove that I could take care of myself, because if he locked me in a room it would be too reminiscent of the very place I am still partly a prisoner in. I'm a genius, but Sam's smart too. We're the kind of people who could easily find a way to end our lives even in a high security facility. So your choices here are basically to trust me or kill your brother. Which is, in case you were wondering, a Morton's Fork."
"I've always believed in Free Will sweetheart."
Her eyes are soft and she stumbles past him without speaking again. Leaves him alone with Nate and a new world of possibilities.
"You think she could do it? Handle that kinda responsibility? Fuck why would she want to?"
Nate's silent for a long time, and then he covers his face and takes a deep breath. "Honestly? She's damn hard to predict. I think if she was told she couldn't she'd bust her hump to prove whoever said it wrong. As for why? She never does anything for one reason. Hell she's probably been considering it since she met him. It's gotta be a combination of stuff. Most likely part is her seeing herself in Sam. Another part is she's always been fond of the notion that if I had back-up I'd be safer. Doubt it ever crossed her mind that we may not be the partner type."
"Will she tell us to fuck off if I'm not sure? If I wanna think it over?" Dean realizes how childish and weak it sounds right after it comes out of his mouth. Still, he needs time. Time to see if she can handle the pressure, and to see if he can handle the idea of leaving Sammy in someone else's hands.
--------
Eaton Colorado, March 3rd, 2008
Sadie stares at her hands and wonders if she's in control of things more often than not. She likes to believe that if it came down it she could sit very still and clearly explain everything that is in her head. At least as clearly as she could before she made the katabasis, but she knows objectively it's not true. She's gotten better. Much better, and that's something but at moments like this she's still not sure. The front door is open, and the brunette demon is studying the stained glass one of her students made her while she waits for something. Sadie's not sure what. Maybe she's supposed to start screaming or flinging holy water. Maybe she's supposed to do something other than study the demon and wonder if this is really how her Thursday is going to end. She'd rather be inside with a good book. She has a class to prepare for tomorrow, and research to do for that piece on humanness, and this is not a wrinkle she needed or wanted. Finally she clears her throat and tilts her head.
"Yes?"
The demon honestly looks surprised that she's being civil. That she's spoken at all. As if Sadie was going to be silent all through this exchange. It doesn't say much for the demon. Sadie can see her, it, sitting behind the pretty heart-shaped face that it has stolen. Knows the shape and distortion like the back of her scarred hands, because all of these things are uniquely ugly, and uniformly terrifying.
"I've come to make you an offer. We think it's time you handed over the Winchester boy."
Sadie nods thoughtfully and fingers the flask of holy water. She didn't bring the Bible this time around. She can access the memorized exorcisms better these days. She peers around the demon carefully and then leans back a bit so that the wall is against her side. "You came alone?"
The demon smiles then, all sultry and easy, and Sadie hates it a little bit. Has to keep reminding herself that's what it is, an it not worth her consideration. Not worth being afraid of because they have nothing left to scare her with.
"Of course I did honey. See I knew you were a smart girl, always been a smart girl, and you'd listen to reason. I've been authorized to give you a one time only deal, and I think you'll do yourself the favor of hearing me out." She bites her lips once and then nods for the demon to go on. The thing is pleased. "My name's Meg. I'm here to offer you any one thing you want. Free and clear, no claims on your soul, and all you have to do is lead Sammy out here so we can take him."
That's not quite what she was expecting, but it's still within the realm of possibility that she was looking at. "Anything?"
"Anything at all whizkid. You name it and we give it to you. Then we do you an extra favor and take that big old burden off your hands. You have to be tired of carrying the kid everywhere after all."
She thinks of Sam when he first showed up on her doorstep, lanky and desperate. Thinks of Sam the day before, and yesterday, and tomorrow. Considers the multitude of possibilities. "You could offer me, for instance, a clean slate? Wipe my memory so I can be sane again?"
Meg nods and grins again, body relaxing at the prospect of a deal about to be struck.
"You could give me protection for Nate? A promise that he wouldn't meet a bloody and painful death?"
This time the demon raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. In fact I think we could give you both. Seems fair enough, and very easy."
Sadie nods and then chews on her fingernail. "And all I have to do is give you Sam? Why? What's the big deal with Sam?"
"Oh no. I can't tell you that. A girl's gotta have her secrets after all. The only thing you need to know is that he's more use to us than he is to you. I can promise you that."
She scratches once at the spot behind her ear before looking over her shoulder. "And if I say no?"
"Well that would be unfortunate. You say no and I have to take the deal off the table. We'll go after Dean and Nate, and tear them to pieces. Then I come back and discuss this with you again."
Sadie starts to laugh even though all she can hear are screams, and all she smells is burning flesh.
Next
Previous
His control is close to breaking. They've been drinking for a while now, and there's not much on his stomach to absorb it. Somehow he finds himself with a plate full of pie and a fork. Nate plops beside him and begins on his own slice. "Sadie's a good cook. Says it's all about the science of it."
The man isn't lying. The pie is incredible, and he looks up to see her watching him without speaking. "'S good."
Sadie nods and then steeples her scarred fingers. "You two should go to sleep after this. Sam is probably tired, and I imagine you are too."
Which is true, but he really needs to finish learning every aspect of the ritual, and all of the cure. Although at this point it's hard to remember any of it. The whole thing is so convoluted and difficult to follow that Dean's having trouble keeping all of it straight. He just wants to grab Sam and get him talking again. Wants to hear that husky and thick voice again. Wants his brother to be alright.
"So all I gotta do is order him around and make him figure out when it is. That doesn't seem impossible."
Sadie's eyes skitter away and Nate bites his lip. "It isn't impossible, but it's going to be difficult. Sadie tried going back into the world too fast and it almost broke her."
"Yeah but she got-I mean it was different. The demons and the kid with the-" He stops at the other hunter shaking his head. "What?"
"The kid picked her up from here. She went back to work for two weeks before the demon-sightings started. That wasn't what made her ask to teach from home."
Dean's turning away from him and towards Sadie even if he doesn't want to. Even if he longs for an escape. Longs to run as fast as possible. "What happened?" Asking is like dragging himself across the grass all over again. Carrying Sam's weight up the muddy road and towards the Impala as he began to map out the nearest crossroads. This is the answer that will determine the rest of Dean's life.
"I got-I get confused. About where I am. The more people I have to keep track of or events that get added the harder it is to follow. I started teaching the wrong classes. Couldn't identify anyone. Then one day I was speaking with a colleague and I thought he was-I just." Sadie blew out a long breath and looked towards Sam. "Porter Clewsky was this windbag that helped me with my dissertation. I don't remember who I thought he was, but I basically told him that I'd really done it. Later I honestly didn't believe he would think it was anything other than a mental break, but he must have believed it. He told Sam about it after all. A few days after that a student came to argue a grade and I didn't recognize her. I went away. Lost all handle on where and when I was and then the next thing I knew Nate was there, and I was home, and it had been a month. I worked out a contract with the school to work from home, to reduce the number of classes I was teaching, but publish more. I do satellite lectures that bring in money and prestige, and as long as I don't have to recognize anyone then I can function fairly well."
"And it's been?"
"Five years." Sadie's face is almost apologetic. "It's been five years."
The chair underneath him doesn't feel steady anymore, and Dean brings his hands up to his face to try to stop the world from spinning. There's a hand on his elbow, a voice across from him, but all he can see is Sam. Sam's blank face. Sam, lost and broken and so incredibly delicate that Dean could shatter what little is held together with a wayward thought or a simple gesture. Sam who will not be able to hunt. Sam who won't be able to function in society, be left alone, take care of himself. Sam'll need constant care and supervision. He'll need to be slowly brought back and then kept that way. Dean can't buy a house to hole Sam up, can't promise him safety and stability. Shit Dean can barely keep himself alive.
"What am I supposed to do?" He remembers the shack, Sam dead, and the memory is so present it's jarring. His brother is dead again, and Dean's being asked to give up his whole life one more time in the interest of protecting Sam. To resurrect him again. No more hunting. No more anything. How will he support him and watch out for him? How can he possibly fix this? When his eyes finally swing back to Nate he sees sympathy but no pity.
"I don't know man. That's up to you."
Before Dean can think of a response, before he could find words to leave his mouth Sadie held up a hand. "Sleep. Everyone should get some sleep. Decisions cannot be made intellectually while tired."
He sees a spark in her then, a sign of something that was probably once Sadie McCullough, the reluctant genius. It reminds him oddly of Ash, and that's a memory just as painful as the rest. Dean listens though. Gets up and leads Sam upstairs. Gets Sam to brush his teeth and use the bathroom before bed, and how did he not notice it before? That Sam responded to direct commands. That he listened to Dean when he gave clear orders. It's the worst side-effect Sam could possibly have because it's against every bit of his little brother's nature. When he gets back to himself-
And then it hits Dean again. Sam may never come back. Sam may never be his bright, inquisitive, pain-in-the-ass little brother again. The bed rushes up to meet him and Dean buries his face in his hands. Sam's standing in the doorway with his hands dangling at his sides and Dean can't take it. It's too much weight. Too much. There are tears, and he's absurdly grateful that Sam can't really see them. Which is probably why he jumps when big hands touch his shoulders. He looks up to see Sam kneeling in front of him, and his brother's face is still slack and expressionless, but there are tears tracing down it. Sam's oddly delicate fingers trace the wet lines on Dean's face and then his voice is a cracked and harsh echo of what it once was.
"Dean. Sorry." Sam's fingers roam over his lips, tracing his tears across the skin there, and then move up again to the hollows under his eyes. "Sorry Dean."
He wants to get up and go. Get away from that blank look and that shattered voice, those gentle touches that remind him too much of that last night together. Instead Dean grabs Sam's shoulder, pulls him in tight, and then topples them both into the bed. It's uncomfortable and awkward, but he doesn't want it to end because Sam isn't pulling away or tensing at his touch. Sam's letting himself be held. Dean's still crying, still gripping Sam too tight, but his brother doesn't make even the slightest noise of protest. Just lies there and lets himself be held. Dean runs fingers through Sam's too long hair and talks softly.
"Yeah I know you are kid. I know. I'm sorry too Sammy. Sorry I put you in that spot and sorry I didn't think you'd do something crazy right back. Just sorry, 'cause I ain't sure what to do now."
Sam doesn't talk again though. Lets himself be held, but doesn't talk. Dean falls asleep like that, Sam draped over him heavy and warm.
--------
Eaton, Colorado February 14th, 2003
Her head is warm and heavy on his shoulder. Nate watches her for a long time. Watches the way her hands flutter uselessly near her mouth and how small she looks sitting in the chair with her knees drawn up. Watches until she finally looks up at him.
"What am I supposed to do here babe? What do you want me to do with you?"
"I could go back to work. The notoriety will die down in a little while, and when that happens I can go back and try again. I can be independent Nate. I promise." She sounds ten again. Assuring him that everything will be alright if he leaves her to watch herself. It didn't work then either.
"Nope. Option is off the table Sadie. Right now we're looking at you staying here or me putting you in an institution. I can't-"
"I won't be locked up. Please don't lock me up. Maybe I can work from here. Satellite, distance learning, or I'll just write. I can make enough off of that."
"Sadie if I stay…listen I'm a hunter babe. We've talked about this before, and we can talk about it 'til we're blue in the face. I can't always be here. I can't promise I'll always come back."
Her fingers twist together and then she pulls away. "Never mind. I'm not interested in arguing. Please do whatever you feel is necessary, and I will take care of myself." It's Sadie's grand defense. Anytime she gets too tense or embarrassed she shuts down and becomes a robot.
"Sit down." It's the first time he's ever used it against her, and her blank face proves he won't be able to do it again. "We're gonna talk this shit out. You don't wanna go to an institution? Fine. You'll stay here. I'll keep the hunts as nearby as I can, and I'll be able to come if you need me. But if this happens again Sadie then what? And if I die? Then what?"
There's a strange look on her face. Something not exactly sly, but knowing and old. Her right hand taps her left one calmly as she looks at nothing. Or maybe it's everything. Nate doesn't know anymore.
"You won't have to worry anymore. That's what you want anyway." It's the kind of one-liner people use to storm away, but she stays perfectly still because Nate told her to sit. He feels lower than he ever has before.
-----
Cicero, Indiana July 16th, 1999
Dean's never felt lower. The girl is gorgeous, funny, and he's having a good time. It's everything he's never been allowed to have before, and it all pales in comparison to the memory of that kiss with Sam. He's so fucked up he can't even begin to comprehend it. This is beyond anything he's been prepared for. A part of him wants to get back in the Impala and go to Florida. Grab Sam and pin him up against a wall and finish what they started. But his brother is a kid. A desperate kid and Dean can't do that. Can't cross that one line, because it's the last thing Sam has that's normal. His brother is his brother, and that's something Dean can't take from him.
So when his five days are up and he reconnects with Sam and Dad there's a distance between them that there's never been before. Dean put it there though, so he shouldn't be surprised. He's careful not to touch anymore, and if that bothers Sam there's no way to tell. Instead they move from room to room without making eye contact. Sam's body language gets progressively tighter, colder, and Dean tries to ignore it. Sam will get over it. Sam will be glad when he figures out that Dean is giving him what he needs even if it isn't what he wants. Except Sam doesn't seem to believe that, and then his little brother gets the acceptance letter.
Dean wants to be prepared. Wants to pretend that he knew it was coming and it's a relief. Instead it's a living, writhing thing behind his ribs eating his heart out of his chest. Working its way nice and slow to the surface. When Dad finds the letter, and the fight begins, Dean wants to be anywhere else. Wants to shout along with them, but that's never been his thing. He's always been the one to step in between them and break it up before they can go to far. Except this time he can't. This time he's rooted to the spot by what he knows is coming afterwards. There's nothing his father can say that will change Sam's mind, and nothing Sam can say that will fix what's broken. Then his dad crosses the finish line for the hurtful shit race they're having. "If you walk out that door don't you ever come back."
Dean watches Sam shoot him a look, questioning and enraged, and Dean says nothing. Bites the inside of his mouth so hard he tastes blood and bile, but he says nothing. So Sam packs a bag, and Dad leaves for the bar. Sam stops at the doorway and stares at him for a long time. "I didn't want this Dean."
"Yeah, well, you sent off your box tops and won the prize Sam. No sense complaining now."
"Tell me to stay or come with me." There's no inflection in Sam's voice. No emotion or expression in his face. He's grown so tall Dean's not eye-level with him anymore. His little brother is almost an adult, and Dean missed it somewhere. Sometime in between avoiding him and wanting him Dean missed the full transformation. Sam's almost a stranger now.
"Do what you're gonna do." It's not what he wants. He wants to grab Sam and hold him down. Tie him to the bed and take him so that Sam will never leave. Whatever has to be done so that Dean can have his goddamn family. Or maybe he wants to leave with Sam, but he just can't figure out how. How to walk away from Dad and the life. Maybe if things were different. Maybe if they had the yellow-eyed demon locked in Hell, or if they had some idea that Dad wouldn't get himself killed or drink himself to death as soon as no one was around to watch him. There's nothing left to say, and then Sam leaves.
Dean drinks himself blind that night. Wakes up the next morning and starts again the same way he always has. Stumbles through his hangover and packs up, and he and Dad leave one person short. The Impala has never felt so big or so empty. There's one thing he promises himself. If he ever gets the chance to make it up to Sam he'll do it. Do it and be grateful that just once he was given a second chance. But he isn't holding out hope for that.
------
Palo Alto, California November 2nd, 2005
He's not holding out hope that it's a miracle cure for what's ailing them, but it's a step and they've taken it. There's still a divide between them, but being with Dean again was everything. Even if it was only for a short while sliding back into the Impala was like coming home. Sitting so close he could smell Dean and listening to his shitty music and bad jokes… It's beyond Sam's ability to explain how much it means to him really. Which is awful on so many levels that he's left feeling flushed and guilty at the thought of it. Of going inside and seeing Jess. Seeing her and knowing that the whole thing is a lie Sam's concocted to try to leave his brother behind. Dean always thought Sam was the weaker liar, but look at how well he's done.
There are cookies in the kitchen, and Sam takes one as he heads upstairs. The familiar sounds of Jess showering, and the softness of the bed he knows so well is all comforting, but not as visceral and intense as the Impala or Dean. Will things change? Will they be able to make it up, to be better, or will Dean drop off the face of the earth again and leave Sam behind? It doesn't matter, because if Sam wants he can push it now. Dean's opened the door, and Sam's never been good at being told what to do. The door is open again. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Sam wakes up to his childhood. He's heard the story a thousand times but he doesn't remember any of it. Now he knows. Pretty blonde woman pinned to the ceiling, fire and blood, and Dean carrying him out. For half a second when Dean pulls him up Sam forgets he's supposed to be devoted to the woman dying above him. He grabs at Dean, holds on, because he's so strong. Shorter, yes, but stronger than Sam could ever hope to be. Dean is a pillar of marble, an immovable force, and Sam's known it his whole life. Even when they were kids there's never been anyone as fierce and strong as Dean. Then duty and guilt kick in and Sam tries to pull away, to go back into the inferno, and Dean's dragging him out. Out into the cool air and the lack of fire, and it's them again. Sam the defenseless baby and Dean the protective older brother. He pushes, struggles, but he doesn't want to go. Doesn't want it to end. If Sam had the choice he would just let Dean drag him back to the Impala and then ride as far away as possible. Far from the nice girl that died because Sam needed a distraction. Away from the law school that Sam was going to join to stay in control of the urges he knows will never be satisfied. Should never be satisfied.
Dean carries Sam away from those things, and as soon as they leave Sam hopes he forgets all of them even though he knows he won't. His one shot at normal, and Sam can't remember why he ever thought he could have it. Or why he'd want it.
-------
Eaton, Colorado October 3rd, 2008
The warmth of Sam makes Dean wonder why his body wanted to wake up. His legs are asleep, and that's gonna hurt like a bitch when he tries to get up but eventually he has to. Dean can distantly hear a voice droning on, and realizes it's Sadie but not like he recognizes her. Sam's still sleeping deeply so he slips from the bed, rubs circulation back into his legs as he crosses the hallway and slips through the door. It's her distance learning classroom, and she's standing in front of the dry erase board making a diagram of circles as she lectures. She sounds confident, assured, and her hands move easily as she sketches it out.
"So we have Hobson's Choice, the Catch-22, and Morton's Fork. All of them present us with problems, choices, and solutions. But none of them are enjoyable or preferable. When these are our only options where does Free Will come in?"
A tinny male voice comes from the speakers. "Well they all include choices. So there's our Free Will." There's a collective chuckle from the rest of the class, and Sadie turns to the screen and removes her reading glasses.
"Alright. Fine point. So let's start with Hobson's Choice. You're starving to death Mr-?"
"Denario."
"Yes, of course. You're starving to death Mr. Denario. You stumble your way into a little cafe and there's a display case full of delicious meats and cheeses. Your mouth is watering, your stomach cramping painfully, and there in front of you is everything you could ever want to satisfy those pains. You put down your money and the girl behind the counter hands you moldy bread with a piece of rubbery cheese in it. You want one of the tasty dishes. You're paying for it after all, but she tells you it's this sub-standard fare or nothing at all. What do you choose?"
There's a throat clearing, and then the kid responds somewhat defiantly. "I go somewhere my money is appreciated."
"There's nowhere else Mr. Denario. You have no other choice. Starvation or the worst sandwich she can legally sell you. What do you do?"
Silence for a bit and then the kid's voice comes out resigned. "I eat the sandwich, but that's still a choice Professor McCullough. I have a choice and thusly Free Will."
Sadie's eyes skitter over Dean without ever focusing on him. "I would posit that you don't. A choice between starvation and misery isn't a choice at all. Your natural instincts for survival are pushing you to take what you can get and be grateful for it. It flies in the face of a denotative understanding of choice. You are being forced to eat moldy bread and bad cheese, and you'll please yourself as best you can by insisting that there was a choice to be made. Should I continue with this line of reasoning or stop?"
"No I get it. You're an atheist and you want me to swallow your line of logic and agree." Bitter and self-righteous enough Dean wants to scream.
Something in her face hardens, and Dean's amazed to see it. Wonders what the kid on the other end looks like at this very moment. "I am the furthest one can get from being an atheist Mr. Denario. I am simply informed." She glances at the wall behind Dean and then steeples her fingers. "That's about it for today class. Email your essays regarding one of the three options by Wednesday night, and remember we have no class Monday."
She hits buttons on the computer for several seconds before releasing a deep breath and looking up at Dean. "Did you sleep well?"
"You don't believe we have Free Will?"
There's a pause, hesitation, and then Sadie's fingers tangle tightly and grip each other. "What are you going to do with Sam?"
It's a blow, and a low one, and her face says she knows it. Knows in the context of this what her question means. "How'm I supposed to protect him? How do I earn enough money to keep him alive and off the grid without leaving him? I can't-fuck you lady. Fuck you. He's my brother and I'm supposed to protect him but I can't. That what you wanna hear?"
Sadie stands, hands planted firmly against the desk the computer sits on, and Dean gets the impression it's the only thing holding her up. "I'll take care of him for a price."
That's…well it's not something he was expecting that's for certain. Dean stays in the chair as she continues to hold herself up, and she's taller than him at this angle. He tilts his head a bit to really take in the thin line of her lips and the determination on her face. "What kind of deal you selling sweetheart?"
"If you hunt with Nate. Hunt with him and have his back. Sam can stay here and I'll make sure he gets fed and stays safe. The level of protection on this place is astronomical, and Sam will be safe. As safe as he can be. No one understands what he's going through like I do. So you take care of my friend and I'll take care of your brother. You can visit whenever you like, and that'll be that." Her hands are shaking once the pitch is done. So hard even clenching the desk doesn't hide her trembling.
"You think Nate's gonna go for that? Doesn't seem like an offer he'd be too happy with."
"I don't care. He'll do it if I ask him."
He wants to be harsh with her, but he chooses gentle instead. "Sadie. You can barely take care of yourself. What makes you think you can take care of Sam?"
Nate is there. Dean can sense him this time, and her eyes go over Dean's shoulder and land on the man that will ultimately have a lot to say about this whole thing, and none of it will be good.
"I'm unstable. I understand that. On the other hand I have been where your brother is, and I can understand him too. I can tell you that if you lock him in an asylum he will find a way to kill himself. It's what I was planning to do." There's a harsh intake of breath behind him but she plows forwards as her hands twist together. "Nate was considering the same thing, and for the same reasons. I had to prove that I could take care of myself, because if he locked me in a room it would be too reminiscent of the very place I am still partly a prisoner in. I'm a genius, but Sam's smart too. We're the kind of people who could easily find a way to end our lives even in a high security facility. So your choices here are basically to trust me or kill your brother. Which is, in case you were wondering, a Morton's Fork."
"I've always believed in Free Will sweetheart."
Her eyes are soft and she stumbles past him without speaking again. Leaves him alone with Nate and a new world of possibilities.
"You think she could do it? Handle that kinda responsibility? Fuck why would she want to?"
Nate's silent for a long time, and then he covers his face and takes a deep breath. "Honestly? She's damn hard to predict. I think if she was told she couldn't she'd bust her hump to prove whoever said it wrong. As for why? She never does anything for one reason. Hell she's probably been considering it since she met him. It's gotta be a combination of stuff. Most likely part is her seeing herself in Sam. Another part is she's always been fond of the notion that if I had back-up I'd be safer. Doubt it ever crossed her mind that we may not be the partner type."
"Will she tell us to fuck off if I'm not sure? If I wanna think it over?" Dean realizes how childish and weak it sounds right after it comes out of his mouth. Still, he needs time. Time to see if she can handle the pressure, and to see if he can handle the idea of leaving Sammy in someone else's hands.
--------
Eaton Colorado, March 3rd, 2008
Sadie stares at her hands and wonders if she's in control of things more often than not. She likes to believe that if it came down it she could sit very still and clearly explain everything that is in her head. At least as clearly as she could before she made the katabasis, but she knows objectively it's not true. She's gotten better. Much better, and that's something but at moments like this she's still not sure. The front door is open, and the brunette demon is studying the stained glass one of her students made her while she waits for something. Sadie's not sure what. Maybe she's supposed to start screaming or flinging holy water. Maybe she's supposed to do something other than study the demon and wonder if this is really how her Thursday is going to end. She'd rather be inside with a good book. She has a class to prepare for tomorrow, and research to do for that piece on humanness, and this is not a wrinkle she needed or wanted. Finally she clears her throat and tilts her head.
"Yes?"
The demon honestly looks surprised that she's being civil. That she's spoken at all. As if Sadie was going to be silent all through this exchange. It doesn't say much for the demon. Sadie can see her, it, sitting behind the pretty heart-shaped face that it has stolen. Knows the shape and distortion like the back of her scarred hands, because all of these things are uniquely ugly, and uniformly terrifying.
"I've come to make you an offer. We think it's time you handed over the Winchester boy."
Sadie nods thoughtfully and fingers the flask of holy water. She didn't bring the Bible this time around. She can access the memorized exorcisms better these days. She peers around the demon carefully and then leans back a bit so that the wall is against her side. "You came alone?"
The demon smiles then, all sultry and easy, and Sadie hates it a little bit. Has to keep reminding herself that's what it is, an it not worth her consideration. Not worth being afraid of because they have nothing left to scare her with.
"Of course I did honey. See I knew you were a smart girl, always been a smart girl, and you'd listen to reason. I've been authorized to give you a one time only deal, and I think you'll do yourself the favor of hearing me out." She bites her lips once and then nods for the demon to go on. The thing is pleased. "My name's Meg. I'm here to offer you any one thing you want. Free and clear, no claims on your soul, and all you have to do is lead Sammy out here so we can take him."
That's not quite what she was expecting, but it's still within the realm of possibility that she was looking at. "Anything?"
"Anything at all whizkid. You name it and we give it to you. Then we do you an extra favor and take that big old burden off your hands. You have to be tired of carrying the kid everywhere after all."
She thinks of Sam when he first showed up on her doorstep, lanky and desperate. Thinks of Sam the day before, and yesterday, and tomorrow. Considers the multitude of possibilities. "You could offer me, for instance, a clean slate? Wipe my memory so I can be sane again?"
Meg nods and grins again, body relaxing at the prospect of a deal about to be struck.
"You could give me protection for Nate? A promise that he wouldn't meet a bloody and painful death?"
This time the demon raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. In fact I think we could give you both. Seems fair enough, and very easy."
Sadie nods and then chews on her fingernail. "And all I have to do is give you Sam? Why? What's the big deal with Sam?"
"Oh no. I can't tell you that. A girl's gotta have her secrets after all. The only thing you need to know is that he's more use to us than he is to you. I can promise you that."
She scratches once at the spot behind her ear before looking over her shoulder. "And if I say no?"
"Well that would be unfortunate. You say no and I have to take the deal off the table. We'll go after Dean and Nate, and tear them to pieces. Then I come back and discuss this with you again."
Sadie starts to laugh even though all she can hear are screams, and all she smells is burning flesh.
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Date: 2021-07-31 08:15 am (UTC)Ohohoh Meg 👀
"Sadie starts to laugh even though all she can hear are screams, and all she smells is burning flesh." Honey,,, u okay? :0