These Days (4/9)

[moogsthewriter]

Title: These Days
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, family, h/c
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3.16. AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: This is the sequel to "One Hundred Nine Hours and Thirteen Minutes." I'd recommend reading that first if you haven't. Also, this was written in the summer and was completed before Season 4 ever aired. (Also written without ever looking at any spoilers for Season 4.) Partly journal, partly third person POV.
Notes the second: I keep forgetting to thank tunes84 for beta'ing this for me originally. She helped out a lot and convinced me this was worth sharing. So thank her if/when you get the chance.

Summary: The path to recovery is more like a winding mountain road. Post 3.16, AU Season 4.

( Day 1 ) | ( Day 6 )| ( Day 15 )

 

Day 19

Dean just doesn’t get it.

He just doesn’t get why I did what I did. I guess, on one hand, that doesn’t surprise me much. He never has realized just how important he is – and not just to me, either. So it’s not surprising that he doesn’t get why I would do what I did to get him back.

I also think part of it is that when it comes down to life or death things, I don’t typically defy his orders. I did this time, though. There was no way I could just go on without him.

And actually, I was following orders… in a sense. After all, Dean told me to remember what he and Dad taught me. Well, they always taught me that family comes first –before everything. Before demons, before hunting, before school – everything.

Which makes it that much more frustrating that Dean doesn’t get it. He of all people should know what it’s like to have to lose a best friend – a brother. But he can’t get it through his thick skull that he’s just as worthy for sacrifice as I am.

I do think he does realize why I did it on some level, I guess. I mean, our fight last night wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. Granted, Dean still doesn’t know about my wounds – and I definitely owe Bobby for leaving that part out of his explanation – so that probably helped my side of the argument out a little, but given what he does know… it wasn’t so much an argument as it was a terrified rant on Dean’s behalf.

I can live with that, I guess. For now. But sometime soon I’m gonna have to get Dean to realize he does mean something to a lot of people.

“Man, it feels good to be on the move again!” Dean crowed as he guided the Impala onto the highway.

Sam smiled, settling into his spot in the passenger seat. He suppressed a wince as needles of pain flared up his back when his stitches caught on the ribbed leather. Even though the wounds on his side were mostly healed, the wound over his spine had started oozing blood when Bobby had tried to take the stitches out. Bobby had tried to make him stay a couple extra days, but Sam firmly declined.

Dean still had no idea about his injuries, and Sam wanted it to stay that way.

Not to say that Dean was completely clueless about the situation. Sam knew better. Dean was still Sam’s older brother, which meant that as a rule he knew when something was off. A week in Hell hadn’t changed that. Sam had noticed Dean shooting more and more suspicious glances his way the longer they had stayed at Bobby’s, especially after his own physical wounds started healing.

No, Dean knew something wasn’t completely right with Sam.

But then, they both knew that Dean wasn’t completely right, either. And for Sam, fixing Dean had become number one priority. Dean had done more than his share to bring Sam back. Now it was Sam’s turn to watch out for his brother. Sam’s hurts and needs came after… or never.

After all, Dean had given more – everything he had, everything he was had been given to the hunt and to protecting Sam. Dean had saved more people than even he realized.

Sam was convinced Dean was worth more than he ever was.

Nevertheless, two days after they had woken up, Dean had tried asking Sam just what he had done to get him out of Hell, so Sam had answered vaguely to get his brother off his back. How he researched for days straight with Bobby trying to find an answer. How he found a deep meditation spell that let his soul find the essence of the one closest to him. How he used his “Shining” to drag his screaming and bleeding brother out past the gate and back to his body.

Sam was pretty sure Bobby had provided more solid answers to satisfy Dean’s curiosity the day before. How it was an ancient medieval spell that used blood ties and emotional bonds to reconnect people with loved ones they had lost. How it wasn’t supposed to be quite so literal, actually intended to merely allow the Seeker to communicate with the Lost. How Bobby hadn’t known what exactly Sam was planning until the younger Winchester had stopped breathing. How a solid hour of CPR hadn’t restarted Sam’s heart or lungs. How the researcher had resigned himself to either having both back or none at all.

The resulting “discussion” between the two brothers after that had been far from peaceful. The argument had started in the kitchen after dinner before moving out into the salvage yard, Dean’s angry voice reverberating off the piled wrecks of cars. Sam had let Dean rant for twenty minutes straight before quietly interjecting that the “dumb-ass plan” had worked, and they were both alive.

That had shut Dean up real quick.

Shortly after that, Bobby had finished removing the last of Dean’s stitches. Sam had then suggested they hit the road again for a change of scenery – not to hunt, but to actually stop and see the sights they had driven by all of their lives. Mount Rushmore. The Grand Canyon. The largest ball of twine – not just the second-largest. Dean had been for it, heading upstairs to go pack and leaving Sam alone with Bobby.

Which was what Sam had been hoping for – he really didn’t need Dean knowing about how the wounds he had suffered in his journey to get his brother’s soul back had literally affected his physical body. Bobby was already pissed off enough at him – he really didn’t need his brother adding to it.

“Sam?”

Sam blinked, brought back to the present by Dean’s low call. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before turning to face his brother. “Sorry, what?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his brother intently. “I asked if you were still interested in seeing Mount Rushmore. What’s up with you?”

“Just thinking. Zoned out. Sorry. I would totally be up for visiting Mount Rushmore, if you want. It doesn’t matter much to me,” Sam replied with a small smile. At Dean’s confused look, he clarified, “You’re right. It’s just nice to be back on the move again.”

Dean stared at Sam for a moment longer before finally smiling, an understanding glint in his eyes. He cleared his throat before softly saying, “I’m sorry.”

Sam cocked his head. “For what?”

“For last night. Yelling at you, I mean,” Dean replied. “And I’m the first one to get just why you did what you did. I just… I wish… Don’t get me wrong, I’m frickin’ ecstatic you got me out, but-”

“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have done it, Dean,” Sam interrupted sternly, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at his brother. “Don’t you do that.”

An awkward silence fell over the pair as the Impala tires hummed over the rough blacktop. Finally Dean muttered, “I thought I was supposed to be the one that makes all the sacrifices.”

Sam frowned slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t have had to do that, Sam! I’m not worth dying for.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed swiftly. “Don’t you ever think that, Dean. You’re my brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save you. Just like there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to save me.” He paused as Dean’s hand tightened painfully on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Besides, we both came back. So there really wasn’t any sacrifice involved.”

“There could’ve been,” Dean replied.

“But there wasn’t,” Sam shot back.

This time the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable as Sam turned to stare out the window. After another mile of gently rolling prairie grass went by, Dean finally murmured, “You’re right.”

Sam blinked in surprise, turning back to stare at his brother. “What?”

“You’re right. We’re both back. So… I guess… it didn’t turn out as bad as it could’ve been.”

Sam snorted, reaching forward to snag his journal out of the bag at his feet. Dean cocked an eyebrow open as he flipped the book open to a blank page. “What are you doing?”

“Marking this occasion. You actually said I was right,” Sam replied dryly, glancing up at his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes, focusing his attention back on the road again. “It has been known to happen on occasion,” he declared, a small smirk on his face.

Sam hummed in agreement as he propped one leg up slightly, angling the journal away from his brother’s gaze.

Dean just doesn’t get it.