Wrapped in Honey 23/49
Chapter 23
Sam knew something was wrong the moment he got out of the car. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was off.
The basement was empty.
Dean could be upstairs, making dinner, but his workplace wasn't as tidy as it used to be. While he was working on something, Dean never put away all his tools, he would have to get them out first thing in the morning anyway so no point in storing them over night, but he also never left his workplace in such a mess. It looked as if he had been interrupted in the middle of something and then just didn't return to what he was doing.
Sam picked up the freshly finished car. The paintjob was new but there were still a few details missing.
"Uh." He put it back and went for the elevator.
"I've a bad feeling about this." He muttered under his breath and hit the button once more just for good measure.
The loft was dark. It didn't smell like Dean had been cooking and worst of all, Dean didn't answer Sam's call.
It was almost night outside so the loft lay in front of him in a dark twilight, he could make out the shape of the furniture but not much more. Nothing looked Dean-shaped.
"Dean?" Sam called again and reached for the light switch. When the lights came to life he had to blink against the sudden brightness.
"Dean!"
He lay on the couch but not in a comfortable way. More like he'd just collapsed there and had been lucky to land on it, more or less, and didn't fall between the couch and the table.
"Dean, hey." Sam shoved the table aside without a look at the things on top. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving but he was too slow to catch the falling bottle. The glass shattered on the floor and the strong aroma of whiskey hit Sam like a sledge-hammer. There hadn't been much left in the bottle anyway but the scene made more sense now. Especially if he took the empty glass into account.
"Oh, Dean." Sam dropped next to the couch with a sigh. Even the noise of the shattering glass hadn't cut through Dean's alcohol indicated sleep. Sam gently brushed the sweaty hair out of his face and then rolled him back on the couch, far enough that he wasn't in danger of falling off anymore. Dean didn't stir. Lying on his back he started to snore, though.
"What did you do?" Sam asked and wondered what had happened. Dean had been fine when he'd left him in the morning. Excited and full of energy. Looking back Sam tried to find something he might have missed at that time which would be rather obvious now but he came up with nothing.
"What happened while I was gone?" He wondered but didn't get an answer to that one either. He hadn't expected one, though. He would be surprised if Dean could articulate a full sentence before noon. Before that Sam wouldn't find out what had happened and why Dean had felt the need to crawl into a bottle.
"Let's get you in bed, then." Sam tried to rise Dean but that was fruitless. Dean was like an uncooperative rag doll. A heavy one. In the end Sam carried him upstairs bride-style. Gently he laid him out on the bed and then worked him out of his shoes, still the work boots Dean only wore in the basement, and stripped him down to his underwear and t-shirt.
"You smell, you know that?" Sam wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of alcohol and sweat coming from Dean but a shower had to wait until he was at least conscious again. For a brief moment Sam wondered if he needed a hospital, alcohol poisoning came to mind, but then Dean smacked his lips and rolled to the side with a sigh and Sam figured he just needed to sleep it off. At least he hoped so. He would bring Dean to a hospital, he would, but he'd rather not.
He trusted sober Dean to not spill his beans but drunken Dean?
It was too early for Sam to turn in as well but he never left Dean for more than a few minutes. What if Dean had to throw up but didn't wake up in time? He could choke to death on his own waste. So Sam made himself a sandwich which he ate in the chair in his bedroom from where he had a good view on the bed and then he laid down next to Dean with the TV running. He kept it on a low volume but he figured Dean wouldn't even notice if he'd turn it up all the way.
Late in the evening Sam was zapping through the channels, eyes dropping until he didn't open them again. He woke up to rather strange noises, though.
Rubbing his face, he smacked himself with the remote trying that, Sam sat up and had a look around. The TV was still running but Dean's side of the bed was empty. His first thought was that Dean was in the bathroom but there was that noise again. Coming from Sam's side of the bed. Rolling to his side Sam peered over the edge of the bed.
"Dean?" Sam blinked, maybe he was still dreaming. "What are you doing?"
Dean was half kneeling, half lying on the floor, a concentrated look on his face and was working on the box where Sam kept his laptop and phone over night. It looked like Dean was trying to pick the lock. Not very successfully, though.
Caught Dean froze.
"I ..." He started, staring up at Sam. There were tears running down his face and even this one word was slurred. Partly because he was drunk, sure, but Sam got the feeling that this was more from the emotions he could read on Dean's face than anything else.
"Please ... I need ... I didn't ... I ... I ..." Whatever he wanted to say was lost in his sobbing. He came up to a sitting position, his back to the bed and Sam couldn't see his face anymore. Dean sat there, legs stretched out in front of him, hand with a piece of wire lifelessly on the floor next to him and with his head hanging. Defeated, was the word in Sam's mind.
"Dean?" Sam sat up fully and then slit out of bed to sit next to him. "What are you doing?"
"I need the phone." That sentence came out surprisingly clear.
"Who do you want to call?" Sam kept his voice even and made sure to speak slowly, he doubted Dean could follow a quick conversation at the moment.
"Bobby."
Sam could only make out that name because so far Bobby had been the only person Dean had wanted to communicate with.
"Why do you want to call Bobby?" Sam asked. This didn't make sense. Dean and Bobby exchanged emails almost every day now and if Dean wanted to call him all he had to do was to ask Sam. But a phone call hadn't come up in a while and if Sam was honest, he preferred the emails. That way he could control the information Dean passed on but so far Dean hadn't tried to slip something past him. At least Sam hadn't noticed. However, Bobby hadn't come to the rescue so he was pretty sure that Dean was honest with him here.
So why did he try to steal the phone?
Dean didn't answer the question, he just sat there with his head hanging and for a moment Sam was sure he'd just gone back to sleep. But then Dean came into motion, tried to scramble to his feet but only made it to all fours before he gagged and coughed and the sour odor of vomit hit Sam. Only with a delay he felt the vomit soaking through his sweats, warm and wet.
"Shit." Sam hurried to get to his feet, with more success than Dean, and ran into the bathroom to get the waste bucket. Dean didn't sound like he was done but Sam doubted he could get him over to the toilet without at least one more accident.
"Here." Sam shoved the bucket in Dean's face, who got the idea and gripped the rim as if his life depended on it. With that taken care off Sam hurried back to the bathroom to get rid of his soiled pants but was back at Dean's side in less than a minute.
"Easy there." Sam rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back with one hand while he kept him from toppling over with the other one firmly on his forehead. "Just let it out."
They sat on the floor for quite a while, Sam had no idea for how long only that his legs went numb at some point and that the barf he was kneeling in was cold by now.
"You done?" When the dry heaving stopped and Dean hung heavy in his grip, Sam guided him back to a sitting position with his back leaning against the bed. "Stay here."
Never really letting Dean out of his sight Sam rinsed the bucket and while he was at it, he gave his bare legs a quick once over as well. Feeling clean again he filled a glass of water for Dean and went back to the bedroom.
Dean hadn't moved but accepted the water to rinse his mouth and then drank the rest greedily.
"Dean, what happened?" Sam took the glass back and set it aside. At least for the moment Dean seemed to be with him.
"Benny was here." He finally said, eyes already dropping. "I need to tell Bobby."
"Benny was here?" Sam hadn't expected that. If it hadn't been the middle of the night Sam would have called his friend right then to scold him for upsetting Dean. Whatever Benny had told him it had devastated Dean. Or was it something Benny had done?
Sam knew Benny, trusted him, he wouldn't just come over to do something to Dean. Even if they weren't friends, Dean was Sam's and everybody in the community would respect that. No, Benny hadn't done anything, not on purpose at least.
Dean hadn't answered his question but he was still awake, more or less.
"What did he tell you?"
Now he shook his head rather violently.
"Please ... can't ... can't ..." The sobbing was back and Dean leaned into Sam until he was clinging to him, crying into his chest.
"Hey, it's okay." Helplessly Sam embraced him in a tight hug and went back to rubbing circles on Dean's back. "Let's get you back to bed. Sleep it off. You can call Bobby in the morning."
"I can?" Dean perked up to that, a ridiculous cheerful expression on his face when he looked up to Sam with bright eyes. But then his face crumbled and he turned his gaze away. "No, I can't."
"Hey, I said you can." Sam tried to reassure him but Dean didn't listen. He was crying and mumbling into Sam's damp t-shirt.
It took him a while to coax Dean back to bed where he finally fell asleep again, head on Sam's chest and one hand in a death-grip on Sam's t-shirt.
Sam let him drool and snore all over him. He couldn't sleep but he lay perfectly still to not disturb Dean while his mind was racing.
Going through the little information he had, Sam could only imagine that Benny had told Dean something. Probably something connected to Dean's past. That was still something Dean refused to talk about.
The fact that he'd tried to steal the phone either meant that he had to warn Bobby in some way and didn't want Sam to know about what or he wanted Bobby to come and get him out of here. Both thoughts didn't ease Sam's mind. In the end he couldn't do anything before Dean was back among the living.
With a sigh Sam tightened his hold on Dean and waited for morning to come.
Chapter 24
Masterpost