Will You Settle For Love, Ch 4
As night fell, the brothers found themselves in strangely familiar territory. There was no denying that what they were doing was something that still felt comfortable to both of them. The Impala rumbled up close to the building in question, and Dean hauled himself out of the passenger seat. Sam followed him to the trunk, where they retrieved their EMF meter, a couple of flashlights, and one shotgun filled with rock salt rounds, though they both hoped it wouldn’t have to be used.
Walking into the structure, all the signs of a teenage sneak-away hangout were apparent. The floor was littered with empty beer cans, condom wrappers (hell, at least the kids were being safe, right?) and food containers. At first, it was just another dark, old abandoned building, like a thousand others they’d entered over the course of their lives. After a few minutes, though, Sam could feel it. Something cold, invisible, strong. Dean sensed it, too, and switched the EMF meter on. Less than twenty feet into the structure, the thing lit up, really lit up.
Before they knew it, Sam and Dean were standing back to back, an instinctive move, making sure all sides were covered. “You were right, Sam. There’s something here, for sure” Dean said, as he watched a pile of trash from the floor start to whirl around in the air.
“Yeah” Sam responded, reaching behind him to grab Dean’s arm. Just the faintest outline had appeared, a woman…no, a girl, really. Young. Too young to die, and for once, neither of them felt the slightest interest in finding out what had happened to her. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”
They barely made it. The door started to swing shut just as they approached it, and Dean wedged himself against it so he could get himself and his brother out of there and back to the car.
Driving away, neither of them really knew what to say.
Sam was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know you never wanted to see another ghost again, and neither did I. Honest.”
“What now?” Dean asked, without taking his eyes off the road.
“The fuck do you mean, what now?”
“Well, do you want to, I don’t know, find out where she’s buried? What happened to her?”
“Jesus, Dean, I thought this was settled! You having second thoughts?”
“Hell no I’m not having second thoughts. Just don’t want to stop you, you know, if you wanted to figure this thing out-”
“Pull over.”
Dean was a little surprised by the intensity of his brother’s words. “Why?”
“Because I said pull the fuck over, Dean.”
All right, then.
Once the car was stopped on the side of the road, Sam unbuckled his seat belt and turned to his left, forcing Dean to look at him straight-on. “We agreed on this today, right? I wasn’t bullshitting you, Dean. Yeah, I wanted to see if there was really something out here, and you said we could, and if there was, we’d pass it off. Right?”
“Well, yeah, but if you-”
“No. No! Christ, Dean, are you ever just going to take me at my word? Did I fucking ruin everything we’ve made because I looked into this? Tell me the truth.”
Taking a deep breath, Dean leaned his head back against the driver’s side window and composed himself. “The truth is, I’m a little off-balance. It scared me, you know? Not being in that building, not seeing something supernatural. It scared me when I found out you were still interested. It made me feel like no matter what we do, there’s always going to be something to pull us back to that. To this. And it…” Dean swallowed his pride and just let the words come out, “it made me feel like you made some big sacrifice, like you were just settling for the life we have now, like it’s not really what you want.” He couldn’t help the tear that fell as he spoke.
Over in the passenger seat, Sam was reeling. He knew his brother had been hurt before, when all this first came up, but he thought he’d made himself pretty clear that this was a one-time thing, and that it was only because it involved someone they knew and cared about. Now he was seeing things much more clearly. In their life as hunters, there was always an excuse, always a reason, always some circumstance that put them in a situation that they hadn’t wanted to be in. It never ended.
Until they ended it.
And then Sam had gone and started it again.
Christ, he was a dumbass. “Dean, please.” He wanted to reach out and touch him but was unsure whether or not it would be welcomed so he kept his hands in his lap. “I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way, to give you the impression I wasn’t happy with what we have now. Sure, it was hard for me to ignore the suspicion that something strange was going on out here, but I could have, if I’d tried harder. I should have. If I had thought for just a second that it would hurt you so badly…shit, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m sincere about this.”
“Promise me, Sammy. Look at me, right now, and make me this promise. I’ll make you the same one. Either of us gets wind of something that might be supernatural, one of us will tell the other and then make a phone call so somebody else can take care of it. You will never do this again. We will never do this again. Promise me.”
Dean’s eyes were still glassy with tears that wouldn’t be shed, the look on his face more intense and serious than Sam had seen it in years, and Sam felt like a giant sack of shit. “I swear, Dean, never. Not ever again. It’s over, and I mean it. Please believe me.” And damn it, now he was trying to hold back tears too.
“All right. Can we just go home now? You can call Garth and he’ll take care of it. Maybe we can meet him for some beers, even have him over for dinner or something.” And now Dean was just trying to make Sam feel less guilty, Sam knew it, but he didn’t care, because it was kind of working.
“Yeah, of course. Let’s go home.” Then he gave in to his instinct and leaned in for a kiss, which was surprisingly returned before Dean pulled back onto the road.
Once they got home, as promised, Sam called Garth and told him what they’d found.
Through the phone, Garth sounded just the same as he always had. “Sounds like a simple salt and burn to me, Sam. You sure you guys don’t want to-”
Emphatically, Sam replied “Yes, I’m sure, so is Dean. I told you, we’re out. We stumbled onto this, but it’s not our life anymore. Can you take care of it or not?”
“Don’t worry Sam, you know I’ll Garth the chick. I’m not that far out anyway, and I can pick up my buddy Hank on the way. We’ll be out there tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I mean it. You want to, uh, you know, if you have time…you could come by our place, you and your friend. Have dinner, coupla beers, shoot the shit?”
“Hell yeah. You know I’d love to see you two jokers again. I’ll bring you a housewarming present, even. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
Sam rolled his eyes. So maybe Garth seemed a bit dense sometimes, but soft the tone of his voice relayed that he clearly knew more than he’d been told about his and Dean’s relationship. Not that he gave a crap about it, apparently. Which, yeah, it was still something that felt like a gift, someone they knew acknowledging what they had together and just accepting it, no judgment.
Late the following afternoon, Sam had been standing on the front porch talking to Manuel, explaining that he had some friends who could take care of the problem out at the college building without going into any great detail, just saying there was actually something wrong out there but it could be fixed. Which was fine, because the kid sure didn’t look like he wanted to know the specifics. Dean was just getting home after tightening a loose doorknob at Mrs. O’Malley’s place after work when that piece of garbage Ranchero pulled into their driveway blasting Madonna.
Sam automatically felt shame at being able to identify ‘Don’t Tell Me’ in less than three notes. He swore on his grave that Dean would never find out this piece of information. It was all over the place in his first year at Stanford, so it stuck in his head. That was all. It’s not like he’d - ok, fine, maybe he liked it. Whatever.
Garth and his friend got out and Sam greeted them happily. Dean made his way onto the porch and Garth had pulled them both into one of those lame-ass one-armed man-hugs before introducing his friend.
Even Manuel eyed the skinny blond and his equally dorky looking friend with a bit of hesitation. He whispered to Sam, “These are the guys? The ones who are going to, uh, fix things out there?”
Smiling, Sam assured him that looks could be deceiving, and Manuel made his way home, not willing to incur the wrath of his mother if he showed up late for dinner. Rita seemed kind and mild-mannered, but she was certainly not the type of mother who stretched the rules. Dean and Sam both figured they’d probably not want to get on the wrong side of her. She reminded them both just a little of Missouri and Ellen in some ways.
Inviting their guests in, Dean got them all a beer as Sam explained what they’d seen the night before and handed over all the research he’d done.
“Shit, guys, I almost forgot!” Garth darted out to his car and brought back a Wal-Mart bag. “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it.”
Dean reached in and pulled out a box covered with plastic. The entire fucking collection of the Die Hard movies on DVD. “Damn, man, you didn’t have to-”
“Ah, shut it, Dean” was Sam’s reply as his eyes lit up. “That was nice of you, dude. Thanks.”
“No problem. You two have taught me a lot, you know.”
Sitting on the back patio, watching Dean grill steaks and potatoes wrapped in foil, Garth leaned closer to Sam, away from his friend and said, quietly, “It’s nice, it really is, Sam. What you have here. No denying the thrill of the hunt, but…the truth is I’d like to have something like this too one day. I mean, you know, not - not like - well, not with-”
Sam just laughed. “I get it, man. Hell, any of us who live past thirty deserve some kind of fucking prize, right?” The look he cast across the yard clearly broadcasted that he saw Dean and their life together as a prize.
For a while, they sat and ate, swapping stories. Sam was thrilled to see that Dean wasn’t upset hearing about hunts other people had done. Yeah, there were still monsters out there, ghosts, other things that went bump in the night. It just wasn’t Dean’s problem anymore, nor was it Sam’s. Hell, Dean and Sam were just as enthusiastic talking about their normal jobs and the nice neighbors they’d met, mixing in things they liked about the town where they’d ended up.
Once Garth and his friend left, Dean crept up behind Sam while he was washing and putting dishes away. Kissing the back of his neck, he said, “It was nice seeing Garth. I’m glad he agreed to take on the rest of this situation.”
Turning around, Sam embraced Dean, not caring that his hands were still wet and a little soapy. “Me too. I meant what I said, Dean. No more of this, I swear. Like you said, if anything is right in our face, we’ll get someone else to handle it.”
Dean nodded against Sam’s shoulder, but didn’t move away.
About 2am, the text alert sounded on Dean’s phone, shaking him from sleep instantly.
Call me
Dialing the number, Dean said “Garth?”
“Yeah dude, it’s all wrapped up. You wanna hear the whole thing, or-”
Dean cut him off there. “I don’t want to hear any of it. Thanks for taking care of the problem, I honestly appreciate it, but-”, well, fuck it. “This whole incident has been kind of tough for Sam and me. I don’t wanna know any more.”
“Sure thing, man. You call me again if anything else comes up. I know I’m not half the hunter you and your brother are - were - but you got out. You have something good there. No point letting some piddly ghost screw it up. You two take care.”
“Yeah, Garth, thanks, you too.” were his last words as he hit the ‘end call’ symbol on the screen.
He could feel Sam stir next to him. “S’wrong?”
“Shhhh, go on back to sleep, Sammy. Everything’s fine.”
Epilogue