There's a Hole In You and Me Part VIII
Three Months Later
They roll into town on a Friday afternoon and Sam can’t stop himself from scanning every street, every car that passes by the diner, every face walking by for Dean. There’s a nervous tightness in his muscles, a flutter in his stomach every time he remembers they’re here.
He didn’t say anything when Mary mentioned the name of the next town. Didn’t let his eyes go wide or his breath quicken, didn’t mention that he saw Dean’s address on his duffel, that he knows exactly where his father lives and they’re going to be so fucking close.
He can tell from the lines around her mouth and her knuckles white on the steering wheel that Mary knows it too. He wasn’t sure at first why she took this job, figured she could have handed it off to someone else, until he noticed piles of newspaper clippings, the stacks of books, the way she cleaned every gun the own before coming. Her son’s in this town - she’s not trusting this job to anyone else.
She’s also not letting Sam come along for anything. She leaves him with orders to stay in the motel room, don’t go outside unless the building is on fire, you hear me Sam? He grunts and she rolls her eyes at him before crossing the room to drop a light kiss on his brow. The gesture is unusual and he wonders if she’s nervous (a ridiculous thought, Mary Campbell is never nervous), but he doesn’t comment on it. She’s been gentler with him since his first case - she must have noticed how much quieter he is, probably thinks it’s something about the trauma of hunting.
It’s not that he’s hung up on Dean. It’s not. It’s just... it’s like he was hungry before, only he never noticed, but now he’s had one bite of pizza and he’s starving for more but the pizza’s been taken away and he can’t get it back. The worst part is the pizza isn’t sex in this analogy, it’s just... Dean. It’s having someone at his side, someone on his side, someone to share the fear with. Sam’s always known his older brother was better off without him around - he’d have a longer life expectancy at the very least - but now he’s actually damaged the guy by his very presence. Which, Sam thinks, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. He knows what he is. He tries not to dwell on it.
Sam thinks about studying after Mary leaves, eyeing his books from across the room. He hasn’t really been homeschooled since he reached high school level math and reading, he took over his own education at that point. Mary buys him any books he wants and if he needs any extra help understanding particle physics or multivariable calculus, he calls the Roadhouse and asks Ash.
He’s too wound up to study though, so he orders a pizza under a fake name and flips on the TV. There’s a knock at the door only five minutes later, too early for pizza, so he grabs his gun and peers through the peephole.
It’s Dean.
Sam can’t breathe, stuck to the peephole, clutching the door like a lifeline. He looks the same and different - his hair’s shorter, darker, and he’s wearing a leather jacket Sam doesn’t remember seeing. He’s staring straight at Sam like he knows he’s there.
“C’mon Sam, open up. I know you’re in there, gotta talk to you.”
Every bad thing he did this summer is coming crashing back, along with every memory of how very much he wanted it. He knew this would happen, knew he couldn’t run away from Dean, and if he’s being honest with himself, he knew he’d see Dean on this hunt.
“Dude, I can hear you breathing, open the door.”
Sam doesn’t put his gun down - they’re here on a hunt and there’s no guarantee the thing that’s killing people around here isn’t wearing Dean right now - while he rolls back the deadbolt, unhooks the chain and opens the door.
Dean steps forward too fast and Sam raises his weapon, muttering “Cristo” just loud enough. Dean raises his eyebrows and gives him a look and Sam heaves a sigh and lowers the gun. He finds himself wrapped in Dean’s arms, too tight and not tight enough, lungs screaming and heart pounding at the scent of Dean, the feel of his warm, hard body against Sam’s, the way Dean’s mouth is pushed against Sam’s neck - not really a kiss, but not exactly brotherly.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asks when he’s gotten himself awkwardly untangled from Dean. Dean laughs.
“Could ask you the same thing.” Sam doesn’t say anything and finally Dean goes on. “I wanna show you something.”
It’s the most surreal thing, walking out of that motel room with Dean, seeing that 1967 Chevy Impala that Mary never shuts up about sitting in the parking lot. Sam realized a long time ago that it was her way of saying she missed John, but still - he’s grown a sort of second-hand nostalgia for the car and getting to slide into the passenger seat feels like a dream.
Dean pulls out of the driveway and pushes a tape into the deck. It’s Metallica and Sam smiles briefly to himself, pulling the shoebox of tapes out from under the seat to go through them. Yup, every single one matches up with Mary’s collection, though Dean’s missing the Beatles and a couple of others.
Dean glances over and laughs.
“They’re all my dad’s old tapes, kind of came with the car when he gave it to me.”
Sam nods awkwardly.
“So, how’ve you been?” Dean asks, keeping his eyes on the road, all forced casualness.
“Fine.”
Dean looks over at that and Sam curses his stupid voice for cracking and his goddamn hands for shaking and his heart, God, it’s beating so fast Sam’s sure Dean can hear it over the roar of the engine, logic be damned.
Dean doesn’t say anything and Sam focuses on memorizing every turn of the road, every noticeable tree, even though it doesn’t seem likely he’ll have to come back alone. It’s a habit and it’s good for keeping his mind off the body heat he swears he can feel radiating across the bench seat, the way he can still feel Dean’s hands on him.
They pull up outside what looks to be an abandoned warehouse and Sam’s rethinking his previous certainty that Dean’s not possessed. Or a shifter. Or something else, God knows he could be anything.
But then Dean cracks a smile and Sam breathes a little easier as they get out of the car and Dean leads him over to an open door. Sam hears raised voices and throws Dean a questioning look, but Dean just nods at the door like go ahead, so Sam does.
Sam’s seen exactly one picture of his father - Mary keeps it tucked in her book of exorcisms and Sam made a photocopy once when she was on a hunt. He keeps it in his journal and doesn’t look at it very often.
Still, it’s enough that he recognizes the man standing in the room, facing Sam but unable to see him. Sam’s looking through a gap in some pipes and he wants to turn to Dean and demand to know what’s going on but he can’t tear his eyes away from his father. He recognizes his own dark brown hair, the shape of his eyes. He jumps a little when he sees the other person in the
room. It’s Mary.
***
“We can make it safe. If you tell me how, I can make it safe for them. Sam can go to school, Mary. He can have a normal life. He doesn’t have to be... like this.”
Mary doesn’t even spare John a glance.
“You could come back. You don’t have to stay all the time, you can still hunt the demon, but you could come be with me.”
That gets her attention, but not in the way John wants.
“You think I’m just going to give up everything we’ve built, every wall of protection around you and our boys, just so I can come play family with you?” Mary’s tone is harsh, her eyes flashing anger. John doesn’t look away.
“I think we can find a way to make it safe. If you teach me how, I can protect them too. It’s worth it, Mary. It’s worth it if we can all be together. Don’t tell me you don’t want that. Don’t tell me you’ve changed that much.”
Mary doesn’t say anything, just stares John down like she’s trying to force him to look away, to shrug and give up. He doesn’t and the moment goes on, one beat too long, then a minute, then Dean’s tugging Sam away.
***
Dean manages to get Sam back out to the car, though he clearly wants to keep an eye on their parents. Sam doesn’t say anything until they’re both sitting in the Impala, tension so thick Dean thinks he might choke on it.
“How did you...” Sam trails off but Dean gets it. He grins, because he’s pleased with himself but also because Sam doesn’t sound too angry.
“I faked those reports, got them in the system. I figured you guys would show, it’s exactly your kind of thing.”
“Wait, so no one actually died?” Sam looks pissed and Dean raises his eyebrows.
“How else was I supposed to talk to you?” Dean asks, and Sam gives him an exasperated look.
“What’s there to talk about?” Sam asks and Dean snorts. He’s so fucking stubborn. Just like Dad, Dean thinks.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that we’re brothers? And that we...”
Sam flinches and looks away.
“You made a mistake. You didn’t know -”
“I would have done it anyway. Maybe not right away, but it would have happened eventually,” Dean says and it’s true. He’s had a lot of time to think this over and this is the conclusion he’s come to. “I don’t regret it.” Sam’s gaze jumps to his, searching, like he’s trying to find any hint of a lie. “Do you?”
Sam hesitates.
“I’m not... There’s stuff about me you don’t know,” Sam says miserably.
“Well, yeah. Look, whatever stuff you’ve done as a hunter isn’t -”
“No,” Sam interrupts. “I mean, about who I am. I’m... I’m not really a hundred percent... human.”
Dean stares at him until Sam sighs and explains.
***
Sam stopped talking two minutes ago and Dean still hasn’t said a word. He’s starting to get nervous, hunter’s training preventing him from fidgeting too much but it can’t do anything for the way his brain keeps spinning out all the different ways Dean could reject him right now. Tell him he’s a monster, he’s not really his brother, that Dean’s disgusted they ever touched.
“So Mom took you and ran because some weird blood got in your mouth?” Dean finally asks.
“Sort of,” Sam says, surprised. “The demon that put it there is still around, and Mom thinks he’s going to come after me, so she wanted to be able to protect me. That’s why she took me.”
“And why’d she leave us?” Dean asks. Sam furrows his brow - isn’t it obvious?
“Because,” Sam says. “She couldn’t protect all three of us. The demon could have hurt you two to get to us.”
Dean turns to glare at Sam.
“That’s bullshit. It’s like Dad said: we can learn to protect ourselves. Then there’ll be four of us and just one of him. We can be safe together.”
Sam tries to picture it. There’s nothing - a blank.
“That wouldn’t work. You’d have to quit school and John would have to leave his job and -”
“No, we wouldn’t,” Dean cuts in. “We could stay here. We don’t have the same last name, no one would find you here. You could go to school here.”
Sam’s quiet for a while. He’s starting to see the picture Dean’s painting and it’s like telling a sixty-year old who dreamed of being an astronaut when he was five that NASA wants to hire him. It hits him in those deepest places he doesn’t ever look, the parts of him that still want to go to college, to have friends who don’t hunt and maybe own a dog, to be normal. It’s not a desire he lets himself feel anymore - what’s the point?
But this is what Dean’s offering him, what John’s offering both of them. A safe place. So he
nods slowly and watches the smile grow on Dean’s face.
***
It’s awkward when John and Mary walk out of the warehouse and spot the Impala. John rolls his eyes and Mary pauses, taking in the sight of the car and the two boys sitting in the front. Dean gets out the second he spots them and practically runs over, sparing his father a brief apologetic glance before wrapping his arms around Mary. She smiles unusually soft and runs a hand over his hair.
Sam gets out slowly and makes his way over to the others more reluctantly. He stops in front of John, awkward as all hell. John offers his hand and Sam shakes it almost shyly, meeting his eye for the first time.
“You’ve grown up some,” John says gruffly and Sam’s mouth quirks in a quick smile.
“It’s late, but how about some dinner?” Mary asks, meeting Sam’s eye in a silent question. Sam dips his head minutely.
“There’s a diner in town that’s open late,” John answers. “Maybe then you boys can explain how you set this up.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Dean declares innocently and Sam whaps him in the shoulder, eliciting a laugh from John and a stern look from Mary.
The four of them make their way to the Impala, Dean tossing the keys to John, who hands them to Mary.
“Wanna drive?”
The End
They roll into town on a Friday afternoon and Sam can’t stop himself from scanning every street, every car that passes by the diner, every face walking by for Dean. There’s a nervous tightness in his muscles, a flutter in his stomach every time he remembers they’re here.
He didn’t say anything when Mary mentioned the name of the next town. Didn’t let his eyes go wide or his breath quicken, didn’t mention that he saw Dean’s address on his duffel, that he knows exactly where his father lives and they’re going to be so fucking close.
He can tell from the lines around her mouth and her knuckles white on the steering wheel that Mary knows it too. He wasn’t sure at first why she took this job, figured she could have handed it off to someone else, until he noticed piles of newspaper clippings, the stacks of books, the way she cleaned every gun the own before coming. Her son’s in this town - she’s not trusting this job to anyone else.
She’s also not letting Sam come along for anything. She leaves him with orders to stay in the motel room, don’t go outside unless the building is on fire, you hear me Sam? He grunts and she rolls her eyes at him before crossing the room to drop a light kiss on his brow. The gesture is unusual and he wonders if she’s nervous (a ridiculous thought, Mary Campbell is never nervous), but he doesn’t comment on it. She’s been gentler with him since his first case - she must have noticed how much quieter he is, probably thinks it’s something about the trauma of hunting.
It’s not that he’s hung up on Dean. It’s not. It’s just... it’s like he was hungry before, only he never noticed, but now he’s had one bite of pizza and he’s starving for more but the pizza’s been taken away and he can’t get it back. The worst part is the pizza isn’t sex in this analogy, it’s just... Dean. It’s having someone at his side, someone on his side, someone to share the fear with. Sam’s always known his older brother was better off without him around - he’d have a longer life expectancy at the very least - but now he’s actually damaged the guy by his very presence. Which, Sam thinks, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. He knows what he is. He tries not to dwell on it.
Sam thinks about studying after Mary leaves, eyeing his books from across the room. He hasn’t really been homeschooled since he reached high school level math and reading, he took over his own education at that point. Mary buys him any books he wants and if he needs any extra help understanding particle physics or multivariable calculus, he calls the Roadhouse and asks Ash.
He’s too wound up to study though, so he orders a pizza under a fake name and flips on the TV. There’s a knock at the door only five minutes later, too early for pizza, so he grabs his gun and peers through the peephole.
It’s Dean.
Sam can’t breathe, stuck to the peephole, clutching the door like a lifeline. He looks the same and different - his hair’s shorter, darker, and he’s wearing a leather jacket Sam doesn’t remember seeing. He’s staring straight at Sam like he knows he’s there.
“C’mon Sam, open up. I know you’re in there, gotta talk to you.”
Every bad thing he did this summer is coming crashing back, along with every memory of how very much he wanted it. He knew this would happen, knew he couldn’t run away from Dean, and if he’s being honest with himself, he knew he’d see Dean on this hunt.
“Dude, I can hear you breathing, open the door.”
Sam doesn’t put his gun down - they’re here on a hunt and there’s no guarantee the thing that’s killing people around here isn’t wearing Dean right now - while he rolls back the deadbolt, unhooks the chain and opens the door.
Dean steps forward too fast and Sam raises his weapon, muttering “Cristo” just loud enough. Dean raises his eyebrows and gives him a look and Sam heaves a sigh and lowers the gun. He finds himself wrapped in Dean’s arms, too tight and not tight enough, lungs screaming and heart pounding at the scent of Dean, the feel of his warm, hard body against Sam’s, the way Dean’s mouth is pushed against Sam’s neck - not really a kiss, but not exactly brotherly.
“What are you doing here?” Sam asks when he’s gotten himself awkwardly untangled from Dean. Dean laughs.
“Could ask you the same thing.” Sam doesn’t say anything and finally Dean goes on. “I wanna show you something.”
It’s the most surreal thing, walking out of that motel room with Dean, seeing that 1967 Chevy Impala that Mary never shuts up about sitting in the parking lot. Sam realized a long time ago that it was her way of saying she missed John, but still - he’s grown a sort of second-hand nostalgia for the car and getting to slide into the passenger seat feels like a dream.
Dean pulls out of the driveway and pushes a tape into the deck. It’s Metallica and Sam smiles briefly to himself, pulling the shoebox of tapes out from under the seat to go through them. Yup, every single one matches up with Mary’s collection, though Dean’s missing the Beatles and a couple of others.
Dean glances over and laughs.
“They’re all my dad’s old tapes, kind of came with the car when he gave it to me.”
Sam nods awkwardly.
“So, how’ve you been?” Dean asks, keeping his eyes on the road, all forced casualness.
“Fine.”
Dean looks over at that and Sam curses his stupid voice for cracking and his goddamn hands for shaking and his heart, God, it’s beating so fast Sam’s sure Dean can hear it over the roar of the engine, logic be damned.
Dean doesn’t say anything and Sam focuses on memorizing every turn of the road, every noticeable tree, even though it doesn’t seem likely he’ll have to come back alone. It’s a habit and it’s good for keeping his mind off the body heat he swears he can feel radiating across the bench seat, the way he can still feel Dean’s hands on him.
They pull up outside what looks to be an abandoned warehouse and Sam’s rethinking his previous certainty that Dean’s not possessed. Or a shifter. Or something else, God knows he could be anything.
But then Dean cracks a smile and Sam breathes a little easier as they get out of the car and Dean leads him over to an open door. Sam hears raised voices and throws Dean a questioning look, but Dean just nods at the door like go ahead, so Sam does.
Sam’s seen exactly one picture of his father - Mary keeps it tucked in her book of exorcisms and Sam made a photocopy once when she was on a hunt. He keeps it in his journal and doesn’t look at it very often.
Still, it’s enough that he recognizes the man standing in the room, facing Sam but unable to see him. Sam’s looking through a gap in some pipes and he wants to turn to Dean and demand to know what’s going on but he can’t tear his eyes away from his father. He recognizes his own dark brown hair, the shape of his eyes. He jumps a little when he sees the other person in the
room. It’s Mary.
***
“We can make it safe. If you tell me how, I can make it safe for them. Sam can go to school, Mary. He can have a normal life. He doesn’t have to be... like this.”
Mary doesn’t even spare John a glance.
“You could come back. You don’t have to stay all the time, you can still hunt the demon, but you could come be with me.”
That gets her attention, but not in the way John wants.
“You think I’m just going to give up everything we’ve built, every wall of protection around you and our boys, just so I can come play family with you?” Mary’s tone is harsh, her eyes flashing anger. John doesn’t look away.
“I think we can find a way to make it safe. If you teach me how, I can protect them too. It’s worth it, Mary. It’s worth it if we can all be together. Don’t tell me you don’t want that. Don’t tell me you’ve changed that much.”
Mary doesn’t say anything, just stares John down like she’s trying to force him to look away, to shrug and give up. He doesn’t and the moment goes on, one beat too long, then a minute, then Dean’s tugging Sam away.
***
Dean manages to get Sam back out to the car, though he clearly wants to keep an eye on their parents. Sam doesn’t say anything until they’re both sitting in the Impala, tension so thick Dean thinks he might choke on it.
“How did you...” Sam trails off but Dean gets it. He grins, because he’s pleased with himself but also because Sam doesn’t sound too angry.
“I faked those reports, got them in the system. I figured you guys would show, it’s exactly your kind of thing.”
“Wait, so no one actually died?” Sam looks pissed and Dean raises his eyebrows.
“How else was I supposed to talk to you?” Dean asks, and Sam gives him an exasperated look.
“What’s there to talk about?” Sam asks and Dean snorts. He’s so fucking stubborn. Just like Dad, Dean thinks.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that we’re brothers? And that we...”
Sam flinches and looks away.
“You made a mistake. You didn’t know -”
“I would have done it anyway. Maybe not right away, but it would have happened eventually,” Dean says and it’s true. He’s had a lot of time to think this over and this is the conclusion he’s come to. “I don’t regret it.” Sam’s gaze jumps to his, searching, like he’s trying to find any hint of a lie. “Do you?”
Sam hesitates.
“I’m not... There’s stuff about me you don’t know,” Sam says miserably.
“Well, yeah. Look, whatever stuff you’ve done as a hunter isn’t -”
“No,” Sam interrupts. “I mean, about who I am. I’m... I’m not really a hundred percent... human.”
Dean stares at him until Sam sighs and explains.
***
Sam stopped talking two minutes ago and Dean still hasn’t said a word. He’s starting to get nervous, hunter’s training preventing him from fidgeting too much but it can’t do anything for the way his brain keeps spinning out all the different ways Dean could reject him right now. Tell him he’s a monster, he’s not really his brother, that Dean’s disgusted they ever touched.
“So Mom took you and ran because some weird blood got in your mouth?” Dean finally asks.
“Sort of,” Sam says, surprised. “The demon that put it there is still around, and Mom thinks he’s going to come after me, so she wanted to be able to protect me. That’s why she took me.”
“And why’d she leave us?” Dean asks. Sam furrows his brow - isn’t it obvious?
“Because,” Sam says. “She couldn’t protect all three of us. The demon could have hurt you two to get to us.”
Dean turns to glare at Sam.
“That’s bullshit. It’s like Dad said: we can learn to protect ourselves. Then there’ll be four of us and just one of him. We can be safe together.”
Sam tries to picture it. There’s nothing - a blank.
“That wouldn’t work. You’d have to quit school and John would have to leave his job and -”
“No, we wouldn’t,” Dean cuts in. “We could stay here. We don’t have the same last name, no one would find you here. You could go to school here.”
Sam’s quiet for a while. He’s starting to see the picture Dean’s painting and it’s like telling a sixty-year old who dreamed of being an astronaut when he was five that NASA wants to hire him. It hits him in those deepest places he doesn’t ever look, the parts of him that still want to go to college, to have friends who don’t hunt and maybe own a dog, to be normal. It’s not a desire he lets himself feel anymore - what’s the point?
But this is what Dean’s offering him, what John’s offering both of them. A safe place. So he
nods slowly and watches the smile grow on Dean’s face.
***
It’s awkward when John and Mary walk out of the warehouse and spot the Impala. John rolls his eyes and Mary pauses, taking in the sight of the car and the two boys sitting in the front. Dean gets out the second he spots them and practically runs over, sparing his father a brief apologetic glance before wrapping his arms around Mary. She smiles unusually soft and runs a hand over his hair.
Sam gets out slowly and makes his way over to the others more reluctantly. He stops in front of John, awkward as all hell. John offers his hand and Sam shakes it almost shyly, meeting his eye for the first time.
“You’ve grown up some,” John says gruffly and Sam’s mouth quirks in a quick smile.
“It’s late, but how about some dinner?” Mary asks, meeting Sam’s eye in a silent question. Sam dips his head minutely.
“There’s a diner in town that’s open late,” John answers. “Maybe then you boys can explain how you set this up.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Dean declares innocently and Sam whaps him in the shoulder, eliciting a laugh from John and a stern look from Mary.
The four of them make their way to the Impala, Dean tossing the keys to John, who hands them to Mary.
“Wanna drive?”
The End