{SPN RBB} As I Saw Him Break Me: Chapter 3 of 3
Three: Dean, Thank you.
Sam watched in horror as Dean raised the gun, bringing it level to Sam’s chest.
“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, working hard to keep his voice calm.
“I’m sorry, Sammy. I can’t anymore. I can’t do this,” Dean said, emotionless.
“Do what?” Sam asked, warily.
“I can’t save you anymore, Sam. This is just going too far.”
Sam felt his heart skip a beat. It was like he was living his worst nightmare. One in which Dean had lost faith in him.
“Dean, we can figure this out. Put down the gun. Please. This is not you.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean said as he pulled the trigger.
Sam gasped as his eyes snapped open. Realizing he was sprawled on the floor of the bathroom in the diner, he slowly sat up and leaned against the wall opposite the sink for support.
The pounding in his head told him that this was not a nightmare, but a vision.
A vision in which Dean decided that killing Sam was better and probably easier than trying to save him.
“No,” Sam mouthed to himself.
This could not be happening. Why would Dean do this?
Sam shakily got to his feet. Sam had stormed out a while ago because of yet another fight they’d had. He needed to get to Dean before anything happened.
Because this could not be true.
Dean could not lose faith in Sam, especially when Sam hardly had faith in himself.
~*~*~
A FEW HOURS AGO
Sam sat at a table at the far corner of the library, eyes glued to his laptop and fingers tapping rapidly on the keys. Dean sat opposite him going through old records, newspapers and everything else they’d managed to ask the librarian for.
“Dude, this is getting us nowhere. There’s nothing about weird fires or deaths or any damn thing related to the demon here. Not even in other close by towns,” Dean grumbled as he tossed aside yet another newspaper.
Sam sighed as he cracked his fingers. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place. This is a carnival right? They move around. Maybe the person we’re looking for isn’t from around here.”
Dean shrugged, looking annoyed.
“Okay. We know that this has something to do with the demon," Sam continued. "Probably some guy like me with some freaky ability. That guy who killed Bryce. He looked confused, like he didn’t know what was going on. Could this guy have the power to-I don’t know-control people’s mind’s without them knowing it?”
Dean frowned. “You mean someone like Andy?”
Sam nodded. “Maybe.”
“But then how do you explain Wendy being killed? Martin said he saw his father killing Wendy,” Dean argued, “and that guy is supposed to be dead.”
“I...don’t know. Man, this is just a hunch. I’m just trying to make sense of the whole pile of mess we have here,” Sam explained
Dean nodded and they then sat in silence for a while as Dean resumed going through old town records and Sam scoured the internet for signs related to the yellow-eyed demon.
Sam looked up from his laptop screen a few minutes later to see Dean’s face scrunched slightly in pain as he rubbed at his chest. A block of guilt settled in Sam’s stomach as he realized that Dean had been attacked yesterday and, after getting back to the motel, Dean had practically flopped into bed and fallen asleep, never having given Sam a chance to check on him.
Sam had been too engrossed in his own thoughts to even think about waking Dean up to check on him. Great, he thought. Yet another thing to tick off the list of ‘I am a shitty brother.’
“You okay?” Sam asked, giving Dean a chance to admit it himself.
“Yeah, fine.”
Sam stared at his brother, knowing full well that Dean was lying.
After a few minutes, Dean sighed. “Dude, I’m fine. It just hurts a little, okay? I’m fine.”
Making a mental note to check on Dean’s injury once they were back in the motel, Sam let the matter fall.
An hour or so of more research yielded no results and soon enough, Sam decided that they should head back to the motel and figure out their next step.
Dean readily agreed and soon enough, both of them were back the motel.
As Sam closed the motel room door behind him, he eyed Dean with concern as Dean sat down on the bed with a hiss of pain that he did not manage to hide very well. Debating with the idea of confronting Dean or just letting it slide for now, Sam finally decided on confronting Dean. If this injury ended up being worse than he thought, he would never forgive himself.
Sam walked over to Dean, knelt in front of him and said, “Pull your shirt up.”
“Wha-?” Dean asked, confused.
“I want to know how bad it is,” Sam said.
“Sammy - “
“Dean just, please. I’ll leave you alone after that, but just let me make sure it’s not worse.”
Dean sighed as he did as Sam said. Sam gasped as he spotted the slightly discolored, blackish mark on one side of Dean’s chest. He slowly poked around the wound, checking for any damage to the ribs underneath. Dean grunted as Sam touched the wound, but otherwise, didn’t say much.
Sam then proceeded to check on the bullet wound in Dean’s shoulder, guilt immediately settling in as he examined it.
After a few moments, Sam sighed in relief, “You’ll live,” he said.
“Obviously,” Dean muttered as he pulled his shirt back down. “Dude, what’s up with you?”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, an eyebrow raised.
“You’ve been…off. Ever since the whole Meg fiasco, which you know I don’t blame you for in the slightest. You know I’m not the ‘pour my heart out’ guy. But dude, something’s bothering you and I just wanna know if I can help,” Dean said.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Dean didn’t get it. “It’s…leave it be, man. You won’t understand.”
“What won’t I understand, Sam!? That’s all I’ve ever heard from you these past few days! I’m trying to understand. So help me here.”
Sam got to his feet, feeling agitated. “I know, okay? I know you’re trying to understand. But you won’t. You don’t know what this feels like! You don’t know what it’s like to feel yourself shoot your brother, and watch him fall off the edge of a pier. You don’t know what it’s like to be around you and hear some goddamn demon think about all sorts of horrible things she could do you just because she knows you won’t hurt me.
“You don’t know what it feels like to know that you got hurt yesterday, and I didn’t even bother to check on you. Every fucking thing that’s happening to us right now? It’s because of me! Dad died because of me, because my luck sucks and some goddamn demon wants me. You nearly died because of me. Jo probably hates me right now because of all the shit Meg said to her through my fucking body. If Bobby hadn’t managed to burn this mark off my arm,” Sam shoved his right sleeve up to expose the now slowly healing obscured binding sigil on his arm. “I would have probably ended up killing you both. I sliced an innocent hunter’s neck. He probably has kids or something who now have to live without their father and don't know who killed him.
“Believe me, Dean. I wish you could understand, but you can’t. Because you’ve never been as fucked up as I am. You’ve never had to watch as people around you have died. You’ve never had to be the freak.”
Needing to be anywhere but in the motel room, Sam picked up his jacket off his bed and walked over to the door, not bothering to give another glance to his brother as he left.
~*~*~
PRESENT TIME
“Sam, pick up the goddamn phone,” Dean muttered as he impatiently paced around the motel room. Sam had been gone for a full hour. And Dean was trying to call him for the third time now.
Fear settled into his stomach as horrifying scenarios popped into his head.
“No,” he told himself sternly. Sam was going to be okay, he had to be.
Dean rushed over to Sam’s laptop and hoped that Sam’s GPS was turned on. He almost cried in relief when he realized it was. The relief turned into confusion as he realized that Sam seemed to be back at the carnival.
“What the hell?” Dean muttered, concerned. What would Sam be doing back at the carnival when they’d gotten back from there not long ago?
Screw this, Dean thought as he picked up his jacket and car keys and rushed out the door, intent on only one thing.
Finding Sam.
~*~*~
Pain pounding an incessant rhythm inside his head, Sam slammed the brakes making the car come to a standstill. He’d known it was dangerous to drive right after he’d had a vision but he didn’t have time. Sam had been at a diner near their motel room, after he’d walked out on Dean, when the headache had begun. Knowing what was going to happen, he’d rushed into the bathroom of the diner.
The vision had shaken him up because he couldn’t understand it. Why would Dean want to kill him? Was he giving up already? Had Dean finally had enough of trying to save him?
Did the person who was causing this get to Dean?
Sam had realized that the Dean from his vision had been in the Maze of Mirrors, a common attraction at carnivals. Sam stumbled out of the car, nearly face planting onto asphalt.
“Dean,” he breathed as he hurriedly made his way towards the large tents and stalls set up for the carnival. If he wasn’t here for his brother, he’d have appreciated the work that went into setting up all this, especially with people like these, who had the whole thing down to a fine art, as they moved the setup from state to state to perform.
It took longer than he thought, but he finally stood outside the Maze of Mirrors. Sam knew that this could be a trap. If his hunch was right, the person who was causing this could probably be controlling Dean.
In that case, there would be no way Sam could get through to him unless Dean fought it.
Steeling himself, Sam opened the door of the maze and slowly walked in, pulling out his gun, just in case.
He warily navigated the maze, bumping into a mirror once or twice but catching no sight of Dean.
“Heya, Sammy,” came a familiar voice from behind him.
Before Sam could turn around however, a blow to the back of head brought him to his knees as his gun clattered to the floor a few feet away from him. The pain in his head went up a notch as Sam willed himself to not pass out.
“Heya, Sammy,” repeated the voice.
Sam squinted up at and felt his heart sink as he saw Dean holding his gun. His vision was so close to being true. Sam needed Dean to snap out of this.
“Dean,” Sam said, cautious as he unsteadily got to his feet. “What are you doing?” he asked as he held out his hands in front of him, palms facing Dean.
Dean pursed his lips as he twirled the gun in his hands. “I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, Sammy?”
Sam gulped. “Dean, this isn’t you. Put down the gun. We can talk this out.”
“Oh, it’s me all right. Y’know, Sam? I’ve thought a lot about what Dad said. And to be frank, I get him. He’d told me to save you, or kill you. So the choice is mine, at the end, yeah?”
“So you want to kill me?” Sam asked, numb. He knew this couldn’t be his brother. This could not be Dean. Because if it was, then Sam would have nothing to live for. If Dean lost faith in him, he’d have nothing left.
“I’m thinking about it. You may be a good kid. Sam, but you’re still a huge pain in my ass. So, as much as I hate to do this,” Dean sighed and slowly brought the gun level with Sam’s chest.
“Dean,’ Sam warned. “I know I’ve screwed up, okay? But please, don’t do this. This isn’t you.”
Dean chuckled, sending a chill down Sam’s spine. The laugh didn’t sound like Dean at all. “Screwed up? My life is hell because of you. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Sam. Mom died because of you. I always got shit from Dad because of you. You left me alone when you ran off for Stanford. Did you even think how it would affect me?”
A lump formed in Sam’s throat. He blinked furiously as he fought to keep the tears at bay. Dean was right. He’d done nothing but cause trouble for Dean and his father. The reason any of this was happening was because of his connection with the Yellow Eyed Demon.
Dean was right.
Sam deserved to die.
His hands fell limply to his sides as he stared at Dean. He wasn’t going to argue anymore. He saw realization dawn on Dean. Dean flicked off the safety in the gun.
“I’m sorry, Sammy.”
Sam closed his eyes, a single tear slipping through. A yell of pain from Dean along with the sound of two gunshots being fired one after another made his eyes snap open.
A white hot pain radiated from his torso. Stunned, he look down and his eyes widened at the alarming red around his torso.
His legs felt like jelly as he stumbled backwards, and fell to the floor.
He gasped in agony as his hands clutched the fabric around his wound. His eyes went in and out of focus as blackness slowly started to invade the corners of his vision.
He heard yet another shot being fired and wondered what was going on.
“Sammy,” said a voice. It sounded distant, yet familiar.
“De’n?” Sam breathed.
“Fuck, Sammy? Shit, look at me, man. I’m right here,” said Dean.
Sam wondered if Dean was being controlled after all. He sounded scared. But why would Dean be scared? He shouldn’t be. The one cause of all his problems was dying. Sam had already made peace with it. He knew how much pain he’d caused his brother. Even if Dean had been under someone else’s control, he was okay with this.
Because sooner or later, he would have had to die anyway. He would have gone dark side at some point.
Sam’s hand aimlessly searched for Dean’s. He smiled faintly when Dean immediately caught a hold of it.
“Sammy, please. Don’t you fucking dare clock out on me. Shit,” Dean pleaded, sounding even more distant to Sam.
Sam gripped Dean’s hand and worked to look into his brother’s eyes. “’S okay, De’n,” he gasped.
A few more tears escaped as he saw the broken expression in Dean’s face.
“Thank you,” Sam whispered as he finally gave in to the blackness pulling him under.
~*~*~
The first thing Sam felt was a dull, persistent throb over his torso and his back, as well as heaviness over the right side of his chest.
His eyes felt heavy and it took him quite some effort to open them.
“Sam?” asked Dean, concern in his tone.
Sam blinked sluggishly and tried to bring his brother into focus. As his eyes landed on Dean, he tried to speak out and ended up coughing. It sent a jolt of pain through his chest and he gasped, tears stinging his eyes.
“Easy,” Dean soothed as he carefully adjusted Sam’s bed so he was half sitting, half lying down. He brought a straw to Sam’s lips and Sam slowly drank the water and let it soothe his parched throat.
“Dean?”
“Right here, Sammy.”
Sam’s eyes finally landed on Dean and he felt worry slither into him. Dean’s hair stood out in odd places like he’d been running his hand over and over through it. There were dark bags under his eyes which were red-rimmed like he’d been crying. His clothes were mismatched, like he hadn’t even seen what he was putting on.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking shaken up. “You…you got shot. The bullet went through and through so you lost a lot of blood. You were barely breathing when I got you here, man. The docs were saying all sorts of scary shit and I just tried to zone it out.” Dean's breathing became ragged, and his eyes darted from Sam to the machines that beeped nearby. “After they managed to patch you up,” he continued, “they said that they couldn’t tell if you’d make it. You had a punctured lung.”
Sam looked at Dean, utter shock on his face.
“You’ve been out for about four or five days now. You flat-lined three times. You scared the fuck outta me, Sammy. But about a day ago you started showing signs of improvement and well…here we are now. Don’t you fucking even dare do that to me again, you hear?”
Sam hung his head, feeling guilty. He knew how his brother would have felt. He’d been in the same place a few months ago. Seeing Dean in a coma when their Dad had still been alive.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, sincere.
“Nah, don’t. It - it wasn’t your fault. It’s just…after Dad and…I can’t lose you, okay?”
Sam nodded, even though he felt confused. Memories from what had happened were coming back. And as far as he could remember, Dean was the one that shot him in the first place.
He decided to talk about that later. Dean looked like hell. He probably hadn’t even slept. Sam felt guilty that he was the reason, yet again, for the cause of Dean’s distress.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.
Dean frowned. “Am I okay?” he asked, disbelief etched in his features. “Sam, you nearly died and you’re asking me if I’m okay.”
“But, I thought…” Sam trailed away, feeling more out of the loop than ever.
“What, Sam?” Dean asked, gently.
Sam took a shaky breath. Screw it. He needed to know. This couldn’t wait until later. “Dean, I saw…I saw you shoot me. You - you told me that you couldn’t save me anymore. T-that I was the reason your life was fucked. What…? Dean, I deserved to die. Why the hell did you bring me here?” Sam asked, panic setting in.
“Hey. First of all, I need you to calm down. Come on, now. Breathe,” Dean coaxed. He waited until Sam was composed again and then said, “Dude, how can you even think that I’d ever do that to you? I…I didn’t shoot you, Sam. It was Tim. That kid we saw the first time we stopped by to see Wendy.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “W-what? Tim? But…I saw you killing me. I mean, I had a vision of you killing me. I thought…maybe someone was controlling you, like with Andy.”
“No one was controlling me, Sam. You didn’t come back to the motel and I, I freaked out, okay? I tracked down your phone and saw it lying in the stolen rust bucket you probably drove. It took me while to get to you, to find you. I saw Tim holding your gun to your chest and I didn’t understand why you weren’t fighting against him. You could have easily taken him. I thought maybe he was doing something to you and I couldn’t risk you getting hurt so I shot at his hand but that only ended up in him pulling the trigger and hitting you anyway. He tried to shoot me back and I didn’t have any other choice but to kill him.
“Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry. I should…I screwed up. If we hadn’t fought, none of this would have happened,” Dean said as he hung his head in his hands.
“No, don’t. This is not on you. I…I wasn’t seeing Tim, Dean. I was seeing you. Talking to me. I didn’t understand. But…then I did. Maybe you thought killing me was better than saving me and I wasn’t gonna argue with that. Every damn kid we’ve seen so far has gone dark side. There’s no guarantee that I won’t either.”
“You don’t get to say that, Sam. Not after all this. I told you before and I’m gonna say it over and over again until I drill it into your head. You are not going dark side. You have something those kids don’t. You have me, as lame as that sounds. As long as I’m around, nothing’s gonna happen to you. And I’d rather die than kill you. I think the whole Meg fiasco proved that. And I don’t blame you for the Meg thing either so you can shut that trap of yours now and get some rest,” Dean stated, finality in his tone.
Sam considered everything Dean said and after a while, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Thank you,” he said to Dean.
“Don’t mention it. Like seriously, don’t.”
Sam chuckled. They sat in silence for a while as exhaustion slowly started to set in for Sam. But he fought it to ask one last burning question in his mind. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Why was Tim doing this though? Killing those people? And, how was I seeing you and not him when you weren’t even there?” Sam asked.
Dean’s brow furrowed as he seemed to be figuring out how to phrase something. “I looked him up. His name is Timothy Bank. Wendy and Bryce were just collateral damage, I think. Remember when you’d told me about Martin and Bryce being involved in the bank robbery? Well, the woman that died, her name was Jenna. That bracelet I found was hers. Jenna was Tim’s mom. And like you’d said, there was hardly any evidence. And the few people that decided to act as witnesses in court backed out last minute.
“I think Tim wanted to avenge his mom, by taking away what was dear to them. Martin loved Wendy and I’m pretty sure Bryce and the other guy had something too. Friendship or otherwise.
"And you're saying you saw me, not Tim? Maybe that was his power. Martin saw his dead father killing Wendy remember? Maybe Tim was able to make the person see what he wanted them to see.”
Sam laid silent for a while, trying to understand what Dean meant. “But Dean, he…he knew. About mom, and Jess and Stanford. How..?”
Dean ran a tired hand over his face. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he could tap into thoughts or memories or some shit, like a shifter. I don’t think we’ll ever know. Tim’s dead, Sam. And as soon as you’re better, we need to pack up camp and head out of this place before anyone finds out I killed him.”
Sam nodded. A sense of despair settled into him. Yet another kid dead. A killer. How could Dean be so sure that nothing would happen to Sam?
“Don’t think too much, Sam, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Dean teased.
Sam snorted, letting go of his thoughts for once. Dean was right.
“Sleep, Sasquatch. I’ll be right here.”
Sam obeyed and finally allowed himself to drift towards dreamland.
Sam knew things were far from okay with the Yellow Eyed Demon still out there. They still had a lot of healing to do, and it would be a while before Sam could let go of what had happened when he was possessed. But he knew one thing. As long as Dean had faith in him, Sam was sure they were gonna be okay.
END
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