Maimat the Rat

Episode Tag 4.07

Title: For there were many things I didn't know

Author: maimat 
Rating: T
Length: 2305
Warnings: mild language
Spoilers: Up to and including 4.07
Characters: Dean, Sam.
Notes: Gen, Episode tag to 4.07

Summary:  Extending the last few scenes of 4.07.  Some H/C, Limp!Sam, Angst, and Zombie insight
Thanks to Jackfan2 for being an awesome Beta. 

Dean watched as the black smoke belched up and out of the host body, tumbling slowly through the air and down into the cold, marble floor.  It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed the depth of Sam’s powers, but this? 

After what seemed like hours Dean finally tore his eyes from the demon’s meat-suit and caught Sam’s pained expression.  This was so not right; blood dripped from Sam’s nose, and his eyes were squinted in obvious pain and intense concentration.

“Sam,” Dean strode toward him, “you alright?”

Dean didn’t even realise Sam was unaware of his presence until he saw the look of absolute shock pass over Sam’s features.  Sam stumbled backward and landed gracelessly on the floor. 

“Whoa,” Dean came to an abrupt stop. “Hey, are you hurt?” 

It took only five steps to bridge the distance to Sam’s side.  The sound of sirens were growing louder each second, reminding Dean of the crucial need to get the hell out of Dodge.  He grabbed Sam’s arm ignoring the way Sam flinched against his touch and hauled him up.  “We’re getting out of here.  You with me?”  He didn’t wait for Sam to respond.

Sam’s hand caught the door on the way out.  “The knife.” 

Dean looked back and saw the light reflect against the blade.  After propping him against a wall, he let go of Sam for a moment and ran to pick it up.  It was across the room from where he’d found Sam and Samhain, and it didn’t escape his notice that there was dried blood on the blade but there was no time to stop and clean it. 

Not a word was spoken the entire ride back to the motel.  Sam fell asleep in the passenger seat and Dean turned off the car and simply sat for a moment looking at his brother.  It was like trying to put together a puzzle without knowing what the final picture should look like.  It Dean worried because one minute things would be just like they were before, and the next he’d be reminded all over again that there were four months that he had missed. 

It had nothing to do with the freaky mind power demon thing.  Well, maybe a little, but not everything.  This new Sam was too quiet; there were too many secrets between them.  How could Sam not tell him about the demon blood for an entire year?  Dean didn’t want to be protected from the truth, no matter how horrible Sam thought it was.  How many other surprises was Dean likely to find?

“Sam.  Sammy, hey.”  Dean shook Sam’s shoulder, and jumped as his brother suddenly regained consciousness.  “Hey, we’re back at the motel.” 

Sam blinked as he tried to focus, and Dean watched him carefully.  “We’re going inside?”  Sam asked. 

“That’s normally how it’s done.”

Sam nodded.  He waited while Dean unlocked the door, and then went straight to his bed and crashed. 

“Your head still hurt?”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”  Dean pulled the first aide kit from his bag and dug out the bottle of aspirins.  “Extra strength?”

“No thanks.” 

“Right.” Dean put two on the night table.  He sniffed the air, and wrinkled his nose,“Ugh, is that…” He sniffed his coat, “Crap, I smell like formaldehyde.” His eyes suddenly sparkled and he grinned at Sam hoping to lighten the mood, “Dude, Zombies!  Freaking zombies.  They were crawling right out of the crypts and everything, just like a Romero film.  The only thing missing was the brains.  I don’t think they could talk.”

“Brains?”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean pressed the cultural impression, “BRAINS!”

Sam rubbed his eyes and tentatively touched the blood dried to his face.  “Zombies eat flesh.  They’d have to split open the skull of everyone they kill to get at the brains.  I don’t think they’re that picky.”

“Thank-you Encyclopedia Brown.”  Admitting defeat, Dean sighed and considered his brother’s motions, “You want a shower?  I could wait.” 

“No.”  Sam let his arm drop and just sat like he was waiting for something.  Only Dean wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. 

“Hang on a sec…” He walked into the bathroom grabbed a washcloth, wetted it and returned to Sam’s side. “Here,” he held his hand out, “might make you feel a little better.”  Sam took it and stared at it for a while before using it to wipe his face clean. 

“So the knife…”  Dean took out Ruby’s knife and rinsed it in the sink before placing it on the table between the beds. 

“I’m sorry Dean.”  Sam looked up briefly before turning away again.  “It, uh, I screwed up.  You were right.”

“What do you mean I was right?”

“I don’t know.”  Sam rubbed at his eyes again.  “It’s all just…”  He waved vaguely at his head.  “I’m tired.” 

“Then sleep.  You’ll feel better in the morning.”  No sooner did Sam close his eyes than the sound of deep, even breathing fill the room and Dean sighed in relief.

Picking up the discarded washcloth, Dean took it to the bathroom and added it to the pile on the floor with the other dirty towels from their stay.  In an attempt to keep busy, he fussed around in the small room, tidying up a bit. The evening’s events played over and over again in his mind…

Sam battling Samhain. Sam’s hand outstretched. Sam’s eyes squinted in obvious pain and intense concentration. The knife lay by the entry of the smaller room now where even close to where Sam now stood his ground.

The first time Dean caught Sam expelling a demon with his mind had been bad enough, but this was completely different.  Whereas the other one had been tied to a chair inside a Devils Trap, this one was free and much more powerful.  The physical toll that keeping the demon at bay had on his brother was obvious, but he never faltered.  Smoke began to heave out of the host body so slowly… and Sam’s strength to fight it continued to deteriorate.  Sam did it though.  He won.

“Stop him Dean,” Dean’s memory of Castiel’s warning echoed, “or we will.”

He tossed a towel angrily to the floor and paced the small room.  No. They’d get everything straightened out in the morning.  Fifteen minutes later Dean came out of the bathroom, the room was quiet; Sam’s eyes were closed.  “I should've been there for you.  My fault Sammy, not yours..."

Feeling exhausted, and with his thoughts in turmoil, Dean undressed slowly.  How could he save Sam from this?  He stretched out on his own bed, staring up at the ceiling until sleep claimed him in the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

Dean got up around nine.  Sam was still sleeping, so he went to get breakfast and coffee.  There was a park with benches across the street, so he decided to eat outside.  Blue sky, warm day, kids playing.  All this would have been gone if he and Sam hadn’t convinced the Angels not to go Gomorrah on the town.  They failed and another seal was broken, and they were one step closer to losing everything.  Then Castiel appeared beside him. 

It was about an hour before Dean went back to the room.  He picked up some breakfast and a coffee for Sam and an extra coffee for himself.

Sam was still sleeping.  He looked over to Sam’s bed.  He felt his stomach roll at the sight of Sam laying on his back, head turned away to the side, one arm swung over his stomach. 

Something banged against the motel room door and Dean dumped the food on the table and reached for the knife.  Ruby’s knife.  He assumed last night they were dealing with only one demon, Samhain.  But what if there was something else working with Tracy and Don?  They’d been working old magic, so the question was; who taught them?

He heard laughter coming from outside and then an engine rumbled to life and it was quiet again.  Time to get moving.  They stayed in this town more than long enough as far as Dean was concerned.

“Sam?” 

Sam hadn’t moved.  He lay on his back, dead to the world.

He was just sleeping.  Sam didn’t look dead.  He was just sleeping.    

“Sammy?” 

Dean was leaning over Sam within seconds.  With the knife still clutched in his right hand, he shook Sam’s shoulder roughly with his left.  Still no response. 

He grabbed Sam’s face and turned his head towards him.  He’d had another nosebleed sometime during the night.  There was dried blood down the side of his face, trailing down below his ear and making a stain on the sheets where it pooled. 

He leaned in closer; Sam’s warm breath caressed his cheek.  The relief that flooded through him just about made Dean fall off the bed.  Of course Sam wasn’t dead, it was stupid for him to even think it, but Dean still placed his fingers on the side of Sam’s neck.  He found the pulse easily.  Sam’s skin was cool, but not cold.  Dean knew what cold felt like.  He let his hand rest on the side of Sam’s neck. 

It had taken about half an hour for Sam to get cold last time.  Dean remembered sitting in the dirt with his hand on the back of Sam’s neck because he wasn’t ready to let go of his brother yet.  He’d thought that any minute Sam might wake up again, show Dean that he was wrong.  It was a mistake, touch and go for a while, but it wasn’t over.  It couldn’t just be over.  He held Sam’s fingers in his other hand and rubbed his thumb over Sam’s calluses.  It just wasn’t real.  They found a house and put Sam on the old mattress.  Dean wouldn’t let go, even though it was cold now.  Even though Sam was cold.   It couldn’t be real.

“Dean?”

Dean jumped; Sam stared up at him, confusion quickly turning to alarm.  “Dean?” 

Dean got up quickly, really not interested in trying to explain his emo moment to his very much alive brother.  “Nothing.  Uh, you’ve got blood on your face.”  He grabbed a fresh cloth, soaked it in warm water and handed it to his brother.

Sam sat up and accepted the cloth, but didn’t move to wipe the blood away.  “What’s with the knife?”

He looked at his hand and then at the door.  “Nothing.”  He wanted to explain his paranoia even less.  “I was putting it away.”

“Right.”  Sam didn’t take his eyes off him. 

Dean placed the knife back on the table.  “Well, yeah, what else would I be doing with it?”

“You tell me.”  Sam looked towards his duffle bag on the floor and frowned.  “Did you go through my stuff?”

“No.  Why would I do that?”

“It was packed.  I was packing it when... I was packing my bag, but…”  Sam coughed and looked back down at his clearly unpacked bag.  “Uriel was here, or I thought he was.  I just woke up?” 

“Yeah, you were sleeping.”

“So Uriel wasn’t here?”

“He might have been.  I don’t know.  I saw Cas in the park.  They do that though; make you think you’re awake when you’re not. What did he say?”

Sam looked around the room.  “Same old.”

“You want to be more specific?”

“Not really.”  Sam wiped his face, and looked down at the blood on the cloth.  “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.  I know what I said, but if it comes down to choosing between letting people die or using my powers, I don’t think I can do it.  If you, you know, if you have to stop me, I won’t stop you.” 

“I must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque because you’ve totally lost me Sam.”

Sam glanced over at the knife, and then back at Dean.  “If I can’t stop myself.” 

“What the hell Sam?”

“I’d rather you do it than someone else.  If it comes down to that.  I won’t fight you.” 

“Shut up.  I don’t know what’s going through that messed up skull of yours, but whatever it is, it’s full of shit.  You got me?  I’m not doing anything.”

Sam looked at the knife again.  Dean picked it up and threw it across the room.  “Do you hear me, Sam?  Whatever kind of bullshit Uriel said, he was wrong.  Whatever it is you think I’m thinking, you’re wrong about that too.”

“Last night...”

“Last night you did what you had to do.  What you did, it’s better than having a demon running around making monster mash out of this town right?” 

“But-”

“But nothing.   You look like ten miles of bad road, and I want to get out of here as soon as you’re up to it.  Here, I brought back some breakfast.”  Dean passed Sam the coffee and breakfast sandwich.   He waited for Sam to take a bit of his breakfast and then grinned.  Enough with the drama already, it was time to be a big brother again.  “So, how do you know Zombies don’t eat brains?  You lock one of those nasties in a room long enough and I bet they’d suck the marrow right out of the bones.  The flesh would get eaten away in like, what, a day tops.  Then what?  Brains Sam.”

Sam groaned and shoved the food back in the bag.  “You suck Dean.”

Dean laughed.  “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”