{SPN J2BB} Hey Brother: Chapter 3 of 6
NOW
“Sam, will you just fucking tell me what you found?” Dean argues as Sam avoids looking at him. Dean had exited the bathroom to find his brother staring grimly at the laptop screen. When he had proceeded to ask what had happened, Sam had promptly shut the screen, flustered. And no amount of questioning made Sam reveal what he’d read or found.
“Sam, I swear to - “
“Fine,” Sam says, sighing. He opens the laptop screen and faces it towards Dean. “The police found another set of bones.”
The older Winchester’s hands ball up into fists as he stares angrily at the laptop. He’d promised Melanie he’d find her son. The bones the police had found were probably Daniel’s since he was the last kid that had been reported as missing. Dean turns away, his hands moving up to clutch at his hair.
Sam watches as Dean walks up to their bedside table and throws the lamp off of it. He then proceeds to punch the wall before finally sitting on his bed, his head in his hands.
Sam waits a few seconds before walking up to Dean and sitting on the opposite bed. “Hey, it’s not your fault,” he assures.
“I don’t care, Sam,” Dean says, looking at his brother and flexing the fingers of the hand he just used to punch the wall. “I promised Melanie I’d get her son back. The only one who that skeleton could belong to is Daniel. We should have gotten this bitch sooner.”
Sam gets to his feet and walks over to Dean’s duffel, pulls out the first aid box and sits back down in front of his brother so he can hand it to him. “We didn’t even know what this bitch was, Dean. How were we supposed to save him?”
Dean nods, not saying anything, and Sam knows that he’s still blaming himself for it. He watches as Dean tends to his bruised hands. After a few moments of silence Sam finally says, “Listen, we may not have been able to save this kid, but I’ll be pissed if we let this thing get anyone else. I think I know what it is.”
Dean perks up, suddenly attentive. He’s eager to get this son of a bitch before any other kid has to die because of it. Setting aside the first aid box, he follows Sam to the laptop, pulling up the chair next to him.
“So get this,” Sam says. “First of all, the piles of bones were all found at the local beach. It’s only a few minutes from here.”
Dean nods, impatient. “Okay, got that. What do you know about the fugly?”
“This thing is targeting only kids, no one else. And only one thing fit the criteria.” Sam says. He opens up a page on the laptop and shifts it toward Dean.
“It’s Lamia.”
Dean looks dumbfounded. “Didn’t we hunt one of those a few years ago in Wisconsin or something? That weird thing with claws? It was eating hearts, I think, by literally tearing open chests. How the hell is this a lamia, Sam?”
“No, Dean. We’re dealing with the Lamia,” Sam explains. “According to Greek mythology, Lamia was a beautiful queen of Libya who turned out to be a child-eating daemon. She’s supposed to be the daughter of the god Poseidon. Legend states that Zeus loved Lamia and when Zeus’s wife Hera heard about the affair, she stole Lamia’s children. This drove Lamia mad with grief, and Zeus transformed her into a monster so she could take revenge and devour children that were not her own.”
“Holy crap,” Dean says, shocked.
Sam nods, his expression grave, mouth forming a thin line. “It’s messed up, man. She’s supposed to be half serpent, half woman.”
“Anything on how to kill her?” Dean asks, scanning the page.
“As far as I can tell, stab her with a silver knife blessed by a priest,” Sam says.
“Well, then, we better get to work,” Dean says grimly. “We need to kill this thing before any more kids are taken. I am not letting another kid die on my watch.”
~*~*~
Dean’s coming back from the priest after getting the silver knife blessed when he stops near Melanie’s place, staring out at the house. He knows what it’s like to lose someone you love. He just can’t not go to her. He feels like he owes her an apology even though Sam’s told him multiple times that it wasn’t Dean’s fault.
But Dean can’t help feeling guilty. He’d promised a mother that he’d get her son back, and he failed. And to him, that was his fault.
He idles in his car for a few minutes before finally taking a deep breath and getting out.
He walks up to the house and hesitates a second before knocking on the door. He has no idea what to expect.
“Melanie?” he calls out when no one opens the door.
He knocks harder, wondering if she heard the news already. She could have, since it made it onto the news. Dean’s heart wrenches as he thinks of Melanie sitting in a corner of her house, grieving over the death of her only son. Yet again, he feels a ton of guilt settle onto his shoulders. A sense of unease creeps into him when even after several minutes of standing and knocking, no one opens the door.
“Damn it,” Dean mutters as he pulls out his lock picking kit.
He makes sure no one is watching him and in a few seconds, the door swings open. Dean rushes inside, instinct telling him something has gone horribly wrong.
“Melanie!” he calls out.
Nothing in the house seems to be out of place. He checks everywhere and his heart speeds up when he can’t find her. He decides to head upstairs.
He finds nothing in the bedroom and the fear that something may have happened to her eats at him. His instincts are almost always right and he just hopes and hopes that this time, they’re wrong. He needs them to be wrong.
“Melanie!” he yells as he sprints down the hallway.
He reaches the bathroom at the end of the hallway and turns the knob, only to find it locked.
“No,” Dean whispers, scared of what he’ll find inside. Scratch that, he’s terrified.
He pulls out his gun just in case and takes a step back. He then raises his leg and forcefully kicks at the door, breaking it open.
His heart drops to his stomach, his hands immediately going limp at the sight before him.
“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
He doesn’t even know her, and yet Dean’s eyes brim with unshed tears as he kneels down beside Melanie’s lifeless body, an empty bottle of pills next to her.
A sudden numbness settles over Dean. His hands reach out of their own accord to somehow help her, though he knows it’s of no use.
Suddenly, Dean’s afraid to touch her. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to do it. Not when he failed her. Not when said failure led to this. She’s dead. She had nothing to live for. She’d told Dean that Daniel was all she’d had.
“NO!” Dean bellows, anguish lacing his tone as the numbness washes away filling Dean with nothing but agony.
This is his all his fault. His fucking fault. Dean gets to his feet, rage for the monster coursing through every vein. This fucker is not getting away. He’ll be damned if any more families are ruined because of it.
Dean takes deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “I’m so sorry,” Dean whispers as he looks at Melanie. He then hurries out of the house and towards his car.
He gets inside, hands shaking as he white-knuckles the steering wheel in an attempt to calm himself. It takes him five tries to finally get the keys in the ignition with his hands shaking so hard. He didn’t expect this. He’d thought Melanie was a strong woman. She had been.
It just goes to show that even the strongest people can break sometimes.
Dean drives in a trance, not able to accept what he just saw. He’s seen many families affected by the crap they hunt. But somehow, this just hit him harder. He can’t explain it.
As he nears the motel, Dean spots a phone booth near a diner and parks his car on the side. He leaves an anonymous call to the police so that someone can find Melanie and heads back towards the motel. It’s the least he can do for her now.
Dean realizes he must look different. As soon as he enters the motel room, Sam immediately gets to his feet and starts asking him what’s wrong.
Dean just shakes his head and rushes to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before violently throwing up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. His chest hurts and his throat burns as he coughs and sputters through the dry heaves.
Sam is there by his side, silently helping him through it.
A few minutes pass and Dean tiredly leans against the bathtub, and for once, not ashamed of the tears he knows are streaming down his face.
“Melanie’s dead,” he whispers.
“What?” Sam exclaims, a horrified look on his face.
“She killed herself,” Dean chokes. “There was an empty bottle of pills next to her. In her bathroom.”
Sam is silent, too shocked to speak.
“Could you give me a minute?” Dean asks.
“Dean - “
“Please, Sam,” Dean pleads.
Sam nods and claps a hand on Dean’s shoulder before leaving the bathroom and closing it behind him. Dean flushes the toilet and shakily heads to the sink. He rinses out his mouth and washes his face, trying to shake off the feeling of loss.
He’s lost everyone in his life. Even a person who he hadn’t known well ended up dying.
He thinks back to a time when things had been happier, even though he’d been pretty screwed up.
THEN
Memory after memory assaults Dean as he absently rubs the Mark on his arm. He’s horrified because he remembers everything he’s done. He’d acted a little tired and confused when Sam had led him into the room and asked him if he was okay.
To be honest, he just didn’t want to answer any questions or betray anything he felt. Because all he felt was pure hatred for himself. His demon-self had allowed Sam to be hurt by a man who blamed Dean for the death of his parents. Dean remembers the night clearly. His demon self hadn’t cared, but his human self does.
His black-eyed soul had fucking chased Sam around the bunker with a hammer. Dean shudders when he thinks of what could have happened if Castiel hadn’t showed up. He thinks of all the people he may or may not have hurt or worse because of the Mark. Dean wants nothing more than to cut his arm off if that would help get rid of the Mark.
He is sitting on the foot of his bed when Castiel enters the room, interrupting his train of thought. The hunter can’t meet the angel’s eyes. After all, said angel had to restrain him when he’d tried to smash his own brother’s head. Dean gulps, trying to quell the sudden nausea.
“Dean?” Cas calls out, his voice gentle.
Dean can’t help but look. It doesn’t seem like Castiel is angry with him. He looks up and all he can see is relief in the angel’s eyes.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean says.
“How are you feeling?” Castiel asks. He strides toward Dean and settles for sitting on the floor in front of him. Dean realizes how much he’s missed Cas. The small weird gestures he makes, the awkward way he acts sometimes, his complete straightforwardness and his adorable attempts at trying to be funny.
Dean now knows that his love for Castiel never died, even though he suppressed it after everything started to blow up in his face with Gadreel and whatnot. And then there was also the small incident where he turned into a demon and tried to kill everyone that pissed him off.
“I’m… okay,” Dean replies, though it sounds more like a question.
“You sure?” Cas asks.
Dean frowns. Why does Castiel care? Dean’s been away for almost four months doing all sorts of shit as a demon and yet Castiel is here talking to him as if nothing happened. Dean can’t help himself as all the insecurities in him come spilling out, “Why are you doing this, Cas? I’ve majorly screwed up these past few months. I’ve killed people. I nearly killed Sam and probably would have if you hadn’t stepped in. Why aren’t you locking me up? How are you so sure that I won’t become a demon again? That the cure actually worked?”
“Because you’re my family. And family does what’s best for each other. You may have done a lot of things, Dean, but that thing, it wasn’t you. We wouldn’t gain anything if we locked you up. And you’re here, aren’t you? As far as I can see, you haven’t tried to kill me yet, so I’m willing to believe that the cure did work,” Castiel says, a sincere expression on his face.
Dean stares into piercing blue eyes, taken aback by the brutal honesty.
He needs Cas to know. “Well. That’s…okay. Thanks, I guess,” Dean stammers, flustered.
Castiel smiles and Dean can’t help but feel like this is probably the right moment.
“Hey, um, if I tell you something, you won’t get freaked out, will you?” Dean asks.
The angel scrunches his forehead. “Does it have something to do with the Mark?”
“No. Nothing like that,” Dean replies. “It’s just…” Dean hesitates.
“Go on, I’m listening,” Castiel says.
Dean takes a deep breath. “I… I like you,” Dean says as he absently plays around with a loose thread on his jeans.
“Well, I like you too, Dean. You’re my friend,” Castiel responds.
Dean wants to bang his head against a wall. This is not how he planned things would turn out. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
The angel just gives him a confused look.
“Damn it,” Dean mutters as he bends down, clutches the collar of Castiel’s coat and pulls the angel higher, immediately locking lips with him.
Castiel seems to be frozen for a few seconds as Dean feels his unmoving lips against his. He feels Cas’s eyelashes against his cheek as the angel bats his eyelids.
Castiel pulls away and Dean’s heartbeat sky rockets. He’s probably screwed everything up. He should have made his intentions clear. He had no right to force himself upon Cas.
“Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - “
Castiel silences Dean by pulling Dean towards him and kissing him. He then moves his hands into Dean’s hair, lightly pulling at the strands as he deepens the kiss. Dean’s hands travel from Cas’s coat to cupping his face as the angel gets to his knees so he’s in level with Dean.
Finally, they break away, both slightly breathless.
“I see what you meant now,” Castiel says, smiling.
Dean chuckles. “So, you’re not freaked out?”
Castiel shakes his head. “Not really, though I am confused.”
“How so?”
“Well, from what I’ve learned being human and living around you and Sam, this seems to be a very inappropriate gesture among two friends, does it not?” Castiel asks, innocence in his tone.
“Well, maybe… y-y’know, you’d like to be… more than friends?” Dean stammers, flustered, his heart beating a mile a minute.
“Of course. Then our gestures will not be inappropriate either,” Castiel says, nodding seriously. “I would love to be more than friends.”
Dean smiles in amusement. Things may be a little screwed up right now, but damn it he wants this.
Dean feels as though a huge weight has lifted off of him. He grins as he hugs the angel. He’s never one for pouring his heart out, let alone hugging anyone. But he’s glad he can have this.
NOW
Dean’s heart aches. He’d give anything to have Castiel with him right now. He examines his face in the mirror to make sure he looks better than he did before. He then opens up the door and walks over to Sam who is sitting on the bed, a worried look on his face.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asks, immediately getting to his feet when his brother walks out.
Dean nods. “Yeah. Seeing her like that just kinda freaked me out. I’m fine.”
Sam narrows his eyes at Dean, but doesn’t say more. Dean is thankful. He grits his teeth and puts the guilt and pain he feels into that little box at the back of his mind, knowing that locking it away is the only way he’ll be able to get through this case. Once they find the Lamia, that’s when he’ll open it up and use all that pain and anger to kill the son of a bitch.
“So, what now?” Dean asks. “I got the silver knives. They’re in the trunk of the car.”
Sam puts a box of salt, lighter fluid and some rosemary into a duffel bag. “We go kill this thing. Lamias can be killed by covering them in salt and rosemary and then lighting them on fire. It’ll be safer to have a backup plan.”
Dean nods. “Good. Okay, let’s head out. The sooner this thing is dead, the happier I’ll be.” Dean starts walking towards the door.
“Hey, Dean. You are okay, aren’t you? I mean, you look pretty shaken up. I can do this by myself too. The Lamia won’t be able to - “
“Just get the stuff to the car, Sam. I’m fine. I don’t care what happened a month ago, okay? I’m coming with, and I’m definitely not letting you go alone,” Dean says sternly, firmly ending the argument. He doesn’t want to relive those past events in any shape or form.
Sam sighs as Dean stomps out of the motel room. He wishes his brother would let go of what happened. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. He picks up the duffel, takes a deep breath and heads out the door.
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