Chapter Ten

"Norman Bates," Dean declared as he slammed down his beer bottle on the counter. He turned sideways with a cocky grin. "Creepiest movie monster, hands down." A half drunken swoosh of the hand conveyed that there could be no further arguing. But apparently his authority didn't take precedence over this man. Dean should have known better. Genie could be more defiant than a thirteen year old Sammy. Dean would pay money to see those two go at it. The two most stubborn people on the planet. It'd probably end in bloodshed.

"Bates?" Genie squawked, taking a swig of his beer before holding up two fingers, signaling for another. "Bates doesn't count." He told Dean with a smug look.

Dean huffed. "Who says?"

Genie threw his hands up. "He wasn't even a monster, lame ass. He was just a dude who went psycho, thus the name of the movie."

With a snort, Dean accepted another beer after finishing his off. Damn Genie could hold his liquor. Dean was starting to get blurry eyed around the edges. But damn it all if he was going to let himself be beat. "Says you," he mumbled. "That was a possession if I've ever seen one." He cracked open a peanut and popped one in his mouth. "Suck to be possessed by an old lady."

"What? You prefer little girls?" Genie joked, bringing a hand up and messing with Dean's hair. "You'd look cute with ribbons in your hair." Dean slapped his hand away, annoyed and Genie just laughed. "Besides, possessions don't classify as monsters."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Whose making these rules?"

"Society," Genie rolled his eyes and turned his beer up again. "And that still doesn't change the fact that Norman Bates was a psycho, not possessed." Genie fake punched Dean's shoulder. "And you call yourself an expert."

"Shut up," Dean gruffed, spinning in his chair and looking out at the other patrons of the bar. "Whatever, he still killed all those chicks and that makes him a monster in my book." Dean glanced at Genie. "What do you think is the creepiest? And Barney doesn't count, though he is creepy."

Dean laughed as that earned him another fake punch. But then a mellow undertone took over the air between them. He glanced over at Genie and saw the man's eyes had gone distant. For a second, Dean thought about changing the subject, but then Genie spoke up.

"Carrie."

"Dude, how come you get to call Carrie and I don't get Norman Bates?" Dean asked.

"Bates was psychotic," Genie started in a hushed tone.

"So was Carrie," Dean countered.

"No," Genie shook his head. "She wasn't. She had a power, such strong power, and she used it. She used it to hurt people, to kill them. She's the worse kind of monster."

"Dude," Dean started, realizing Genie was talking on a more personal level now. "Carrie was messed up. Bad stuff happened and she didn't have anyone on her side. She's nothing like you."

Genie turned to look at him. The two were quiet for a minute. Then Genie went on. "You fight monsters every day," Genie whispered. "Are you ever afraid you'll become one?"

More silence, but Genie heard the answer loud and clear. Dean had practically screamed it inside his head. And that's all they needed for the conversation to end. For Dean to admit what Genie had feared.

"Every day."

He could smell French Vanilla coffee. Two sugars. A dash of half and half. It was Sam's drink.

Waking was slow, but he used the familiar aroma to anchor himself into the world of the living. The rest of his senses filtered in after that. The quiet sounds of a hushed television turned to some soap opera. He was laying in a bed and there was something heavy and itchy on his side. Something was poked into his finger and something else was poked into his forearm. He knew they should have been sore, but there wasn't really any pain. In fact, other than the pressure, he couldn't feel much of anything. And there was a beeping somewhere.

Hospital. Great.

Opening his eyes was a task that nearly sent him back into the oblivion he had just crawled out of. The room spun and tilted and danced in front of him. His stomach lurched and his throat was suddenly too dry. Screw this. The waking world could wait.

"Dean?" Was that Sam? Well crap, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn't let Sam get all worked up over an eye flutter. The poor kid would probably have a hernia if he didn't answer. A hand found its way to his forehead. It was soft and warm and urged Dean to come back. Well dammit, he'd have to wake up now. He wouldn't allow the touchy feely while he couldn't defend himself. "Dean?" Sam's voice was more persistent this time.

"I think he's fallen back asleep." Now who the hell was that? An image of Genie suddenly flashed before his eyes and Dean couldn't help the violent flinch that took control of his body. Oh God, was that Genie? Was Genie out there with Sam? You get the hell away from my brother you fucking bastard.

"Whoa, whoa," Sam's voice sounded again and Dean felt panic course through him. No, no, Genie was doing something to Sam. He had to wake up. He had to fight. Sam needed him. "Dean, hey, calm down." Calm down? Calm down! There's no calming down from this one, Sammy. Genie's gonna kill you. He's gonna use me to kill you. I have to get you out of here, I have to get you away from him, away from me. Oh God I can't hurt you.

"His heart rate is elevating." Who the fuck was that? Sammy, whose out there with you? "We need to put him under again." Under? Under where?

"No!" Sam? What's going on? Sammy why do you sound so scared? He better not be hurting you. "Don't you think he's been asleep enough?" The hand on his forehead moved and for a moment Dean wanted to cry out, but it was suddenly back and this time the thumb was stroking his forehead.

"Mr. Burkovitz, we need to keep him calm, if he pulls out his stitches…"

"I can keep him calm," Sam's voice was confident. "Dean, it's me, it's Sam." No shit. Let's get you a medal, genius. "It's okay, Dean, it's over. You're fine." Me? I'm not worried about me you idiot. I'm not the one I was trying to kill…was I? "Dean, please." Dammit Sam, you know I can't resist it when you say please.

The panic began to subside. Sam's hand on his forehead and the quiet whisperings that he couldn't quite make out over some background hustle and bustle. Someone was shuffling papers. His blanket was removed and he was suddenly cold and exposed. Someone put a hand to his side and pain flared up, making him tense up. But Sam just rubbed his forehead and spoke a little louder and Dean didn't panic. But only because Sam asked him not to.

"Everything's still in place." All right, whoever you are, if everything's still in place give me my damn blanket back. It's freaking cold in here. "We'll have to keep checking every hour. If he wakes up, keep him still. If he rips open his stitches, we'll have to put him under again and we'll keep him under a lot longer than we did this time."

"Okay." Sam's voice sounded so small. "Thanks, doctor." A door closed somewhere. "Asshole," Sam muttered under his breath. Dean would have chuckled if his body was listening to him. He was waking up more, becoming more and more aware of his surroundings, and more importantly, of himself. Things felt weird, more than just the odd feeling of being doped up. He couldn't explain it. He hurt, but it was an ache he couldn't place. "Dean?" Give a guy a minute, Sam.

Pushing the last edges of darkness away, Dean groaned before he forced his eyes open. Things were still blurry and tilting and spinning, but he blinked and blinked until the world seemed to focus itself. And the first thing he saw was Sam's face, looking down on him. And Dean wished he could go back to sleep again. Sam looked like shit. He had a black eye and an assortment of bruises mottled his face and forehead and chin. He had a split lip and a cut across one of his cheeks. And Dean could remember giving him every single one of those injuries.

"You with me, Dean?" Sam asked, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Dean hated those eyes. They just screamed out for someone to give this puppy a hug. And to hell if he'd be the one. If he thought opening his eyes was a task, trying to speak seemed nearly impossible. His throat was dry, raw. His lips felt swollen. So he settled for a nod instead and even that sent his head spinning again. "Hey," Sam said with a relieved smile that seemed to light up his entire face. "It's about time."

Dean licked his lips. Damn he needed a drink. "H…how…"

"Four days," Sam answered, instantly knowing what his brother was trying to ask. "They wanted to make sure you didn't rip out your stitches. You were in surgery for six hours. They were doing everything the could for you." Sammy, you're rambling. "But you'd lost so much blood and you just kept bleeding and there were a couple times where you stopped breathing and…" Dean's hand found it's way to Sam's, which had fallen onto the bed. Sam stopped once he realized what he was doing. He gave a small, nervous laugh before shaking his head. "Sorry."

Dean took another good look at his brother. Sam's left arm was in a cast. He could see bruises along his brother's collar bone and around his neck. Some were already fading. Dean moved his hand towards the cast and laid his fingers on it gently. Sam glanced down at them before looking straight back at Dean. "Sam…" Dean croaked out.

"No," Sam cut him off and Dean frowned at him. "It wasn't your fault." Dean couldn't help the tears glistening in his eyes. "None of this was your fault, Dean. None of it." Sam leaned forward when Dean looked away. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Not even Genie."

He hadn't been expecting that. He turned to look at his little brother again. "I killed him, Sam," he said quietly, his voice foreign still, scratchy.

Sam shook his head. "Because you had to. You saved lives." Sam paused as Dean turned his head, wincing at the movement. He squeezed his shoulder until the pain subsided. "I know I gave you shit, Dean, but…you did something I'd never be able to do. And you're alive because of it. I could never hold that against you." Dean turned back to look at him. Sam suddenly smiled. "But I think we should have a talk about the kind of people you're hanging out with, tiger." It took a moment but Dean's smile spread slowly across his face. "And if you ever do anything like this again," Sam pointed to Dean's waist. "I'll kill you myself."

Dean chuckled but instantly the chuckle turned into a grimace and he moved a hand to his side. Sam, still smiling, patted his shoulder, telling him to stay down. "Ow," Dean whispered, but his eyes were still shining from Sam's compliment.

Sam nodded and took his hand, even when Dean gave him that look that said to stow it. He ignored him. "Seriously," Sam said, his face growing somber. "Thank you."

"For what?' Dean croaked.

"For this," Sam nodded towards Dean's torso. "And for not dying."

Dean snorted. "Couldn't leave my car." Sam chuckled. "You'd go crashing her through walls again."

"I do it one time and you don't let me live it down," Sam countered playfully. Dean just smiled, his eyes dipping closed for a second. Sam squeezed his hand. "Get some sleep, Dean. Even though you've been sleeping for four days."

Dean didn't answer and for a moment, Sam thought he'd listened to him. But then Dean's quiet voice made Sam still. "I can still feel him." Sam frowned, scooting forward. "I don't…I don't know how to explain it. I can feel him everywhere." Sam was about to answer, was about to tell Dean that he knew what it felt like. That he remembered what it felt like after Ellicott was done with his brain. He knew it felt like the worse kind of violation. Ellicott's presence everywhere, on every memory, leaving his fingerprints on everything. And Ellicott had just scanned. He couldn't image what Dean felt. To feel like his mind had been stretched and shared and beaten and mangled. It would take a while to put back the pieces. And Sam was about to tell him this.

But the door to the room opened and both brothers turned to see who the newcomer was. Sam smiled when Cecily poked her head into the room and grinned when she saw Dean was awake. She ran in after that and bounded up onto Sam's lap, surprising the younger Winchester. But Sam put a steadying hand on her anyway.

"Cecily," Carol's voice reprimanded from the doorway. Sam smiled at her to tell her it was no trouble.

"Hi Dean," Cecily said, her happiness faltering a moment as she looked Dean up and down. "Are you all better?"

"Getting there," Dean said weakly, his eyes growing heavy.

Sam saw this and leaned forward, his good hand still around Cecily's waist. "Dean's pretty tired," he told her. "I think maybe we should let him sleep."

"Okay," Cecily nodded. She leaned forward and kissed Dean's forehead, making Dean blush and Sam chuckle a bit. "I just wanted to tell you that I don't think you're a monster." Dean seemed to freeze at that and Sam held his breath. "The man in the dark said that you were, but I never believed him. You fight monsters. You're a hero. You saved me, just like I asked."

"Oh I didn't do much," Dean whispered with a smile. "Sam did most of it. I'm no hero."

Sam frowned at that. He could tell it was going to take a while for his brother to recover from this one. It would take them both a while.

"Yes you are," Cecily insisted. "I asked you to come and you came. That's what a hero does. So you're a hero." Dean's eyes started watering and Sam looked back at Carol. She smiled and came forward.

"All right, Cecily," she said and reached her hands out for her daughter. "It's time we let them sleep. We'll come back tomorrow and say hi."

"Wait," Cecily said and reached into her pocket. She pulled something out and held it out for Dean. "This is for you. It's my favorite thing in the world and I want you to have it." Dean's hand rose weakly to accept it. It was a package of grape bubble gum. "Do you like it?"

Dean stared at the gum for a moment and Sam wondered what his brother would say. He'd made such a fuss about how much he hated grape gum in the car, when he'd been channeling some of Cecily's senses and thoughts. Sam wasn't sure how his brother would react to this. Cecily still obviously was devoted to him.

"My favorite kind," Dean whispered. Sam smiled sadly at Dean's weak voice and the tears still unshed in his eyes.

How could anyone ever think he was a monster? Monsters don't go around saving lives just because they can. Monsters don't help other people with their problems and ignore their own. Monsters don't hold you're hand when you're scared or wake you up when you're having a nightmare. Monsters don't say everything will be all right and then do everything in their power to make sure that they are. Monsters don't sacrifice themselves for their brothers. Monsters are worshipped by four year old girls. Monsters aren't given all the love and admiration in the world in the form of a packet of grape gum. And monsters don't stare at that grape gum with tears in their eyes and disbelieving thoughts in their head and claim that it's their favorite. Monsters just don't do that.

Dean was a hero. He always had been and always would be. Maybe he wasn't Genie's hero. And maybe one day he wouldn't be Cecily's hero. But he would always and forever be Sam's hero.

And he'd buy him all the grape gum in the world if it meant Dean would finally realize that.

The End

To everyone who reviewed:

Thank you all so much. The support for this story was phenomenal. I didn't expect it to get all those compliments. Sorry I haven't responded to you guys personally, but just know that I do read all the reviews and I do appreciate every single one of them. You guys are awesome and I hope you've enjoyed this story. :)