I CAN WALK

"The fire's out, and you don't have to keep carrying me. I can walk now ... You taught me how... Remember?"

-o-o-o-

Dean didn't get it, really couldn't understand why. It wasn't as if there had been a blazing argument. Hell, for most of the past two weeks he'd not been in a fit state to take part in even a small, slightly flickering candle of an argument. Infected wounds and fever more or less knocking him off the argument board. So he watched now, with a mixture of hurt, confusion and disbelief, whilst the bus carrying his younger brother pulled away from the central station. It simply moved off and took his brother away from him, as easy as that. In the middle of the busy depot, Dean appeared motionless, scurrying commuters having to step around him, occasionally knocking him in their rush. But behind the green eyes that had fixed themselves onto one particular point, there was utter turmoil.

I've missed something. I must've! What the Hell did I miss? What else should I have done? Chrissake Sammy! I mean...Shit!...What more is there little brother? Being ready to die for someone, willingly. That's gotta beat sending some dumbass Valentine card once a year...Don't it? Not that I'd ever send you a Valentine card, freak, but...Jeeze Sam! How many times now have I stuck my own ass in the firing line, an' been happy to do it. Happy! Just so's my little brother ain't the one to take the hit. That's love...isn't it? Sonovabitch!

Somehow though, Sam didn't seem to see things the same way. Or maybe he'd just never been able to recognise the emotion underpinning every risk that Dean took, every hurt he put himself through? All of it faced willingly, out of the love he held for his younger brother.

I know I can be a jackass bro. Is that what it is? Is it 'cos I don't buy the bullshit you spouted about it bein' better, safer, for us if we split up? 'Cos that pile of poop still makes no sense...At all!

Dean's mind cast back to some dumb speech that had poured out of Sam's mouth.

All that crap about not being prepared to be the reason I died, again? Moron! Making out like he was doin' me some huge friggin' favour by leavin'? Well, guess what Sammy boy? That kinda favour I can do without...You hear me brother? I don't need it!

Dean finally stopped staring unblinkingly in the direction the bus had taken and looked around. Spotting an empty bench seat, he walked slowly across to it and sat himself down. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and lowered his head into his hands, cutting off everything and everyone around him.

It's my fault. Guess I just got it wrong Sammy. I didn't do enough, screwed something up somehow. Maybe I just didn't make it clear enough, you know? Just how willing I am to die for you if it will keep you safe. I'm so sorry little brother...Sorry I didn't do enough to make you believe in me...

-o-o-o-

Resting his forehead against the cool of the bus window, Sam determinedly blinked back traitor tears.

You just don't get it Dean. Never have. And I'm dammed if I know what else I could've done to get through that thick skull of yours. This' the only option I've got left. Only way I can see to stop you from getting yourself killed because of me.

Sam couldn't begin to count how many times some fugly or other had him in it's sights and he'd got away without a scratch; solely due to his brother shoving him aside and taking the damage himself. Well, as far as Sam was concerned, Dean had the easy part. Only thing Dean had to do from then on was lay there bleeding, or broken, or both. It was left to Sam to carry the worry, the fear, the distress, the responsibility and, quite often, the hope that he knew the right thing to do to make sure Dean lived.

Total five star idiot! All his sacrificial hero act does is give me more grief, more headaches, more stress. Jerk thinks he's saving me from something, but he's not; he's just causing me a different kind of pain. Dammit Dean. Why won't you stop? Stop treating me like I'm still a baby who needs carryin' everywhere? I'm all grown up now Dean ... All grown ... up ...

Sam's train of thought stuttered to a halt and he sat bolt upright in his seat, staring into the distance, considering what he was doing, and how that sat alongside his own internal claim to be all grown up. He grabbed his duffle and his jacket off the empty seat next to him. Standing up, he called down to the driver.

"Hey, driver...Pull up. I'm sorry, but I gotta get off!"

The driver answered without taking his eyes off the road ahead.

"No can do, buddy. Regulations. You'll hav'ta to wait till the next stop."

Sam had moved down to the front of the bus and was now standing directly behind the driver.

"Next stop's another 50 odd miles away, buddy, an' I need to get off now. Understand?"

The driver glanced in his mirror to see which one of his passengers was being such an asshat; and his attitude changed dramatically when he saw it was the giant. He wasn't paid enough to tangle with something that big.

"Erm..Is it an emergency, sir?"

"Yes. If it helps. It's an emergency. Now, stop this friggin' bus!"

"No problem sir, seen as how it's an emergency!"

The driver slammed the breaks on, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle if the road, throwing the rest of his passengers forward with a chorus of yelps and curses.

"Sorry folks, but this guy's got an emergency and needs to get off. Everybody ok back there?"

-o-o-o-

Dean raised his head, his eyes straying over the faceless crowds going by, all on their way to or from somewhere else; no one ever staying. Bus stations, train stations, airports. They're all places that people are constantly passing through. Just a way of getting to another place, never themselves the destination. Dean knew he couldn't just solidify and stay here; but neither did he want to return to the Impala and drive away, alone.

"Dean."

"Sam? The Hell..?"

"This' gotta change. We, have to change Dean ... Me? Sat on that bus I finally realised I can't keep running away when I don't like how things are, you know? 'Cos me leavin'? Never has made things better, and, well, it's not fair on you. We're both adults. We should be able to sort things by now. Anyway, that's why I came back. We gotta try to sort this, both of us."

"Huh? Slow down Sammy! Look, when you said you were leavin' this mornin,' it didn't make any sense. Now? ...Well, you're here, you changed your mind, and I'm glad, I am. But you're still not makin' any sense. What needs to change? 'Cos man, I'm at a loss here."

Sam remained standing, looking down to where Dean still sat. He smiled, and Dean could see the love, and sadness, in that smile. When Sam spoke his tone was serious, his eyes begging Dean to at least try to understand.

"It's simple really ... You need to put me down Dean. I'm not six months old anymore. The fire's out, and you don't have to keep carrying me. I can walk now ... You taught me how... Remember?"

Sam waited, watching the play of emotions that danced in his older brother's eyes, and somersaulted across Dean's features. When Dean didn't say anything, Sam pressed on.

"Dean, I don't need you to prove you love me; I don't. But, if you still need to? Well, there is a way."

"Ok... Gettin' kinda worried!"

"I'm serious Dean. If you think you need to convince me how much you care? Prove it by stopping acting like you don't deserve to be here ... Stop telling yourself that you've no right to be alive ... Most of all? Stop believing that your only purpose is to keep me safe.

"Sam..."

"No. Listen to me. Listen to what I'm telling you. I don't want to keep seeing how willing you are to sacrifice yourself for me. It's Dad who said it was your job to protect me; Dad who convinced you that I was more important. Dad who made you think you're life is worth so much less than mine, and I've always been angry at him for that. But he's gone Dean, and it's not what I need from you, hasn't been for a long time now. Repeatedly throwing yourself into the line of fire? Taking all the hits to shield me? It doesn't show me how much you care. It just shows me you hate yourself, that you're completely selfish, and you expect me to do something you can't!"

"Really? ... Oh, please Dr Freud; enlighten me. In what way am I selfish? And what can't I do, exactly?"

"Carry on. You can't handle the thought of carrying on if I die. See? Makes you pretty damn selfish. You tell yourself you're keeping me safe, following orders. What I see is you doing everything possible to make sure it's me who's left behind and alone, not you. Way I see it, you're just sellin' bullshit to the cows when you try to pretend it's about protecting me. Only one you're protecting? Is you."

Dean's expression became blank, only the slight narrowing of his eyes told Sam his re-frame was garnering no favour with Dean and not to try pushing that theory any further. Sam raised both hands appeasingly.

" Hey...If I'm wrong, prove it!"

Dean now stared at his brother in disbelief.

"Prove it? The Hell? Sonovabitch ... Are you tellin' me I haven't done enough yet? Shit Sammy! I've died for you! And you'll never make me regret that. If I need to, I'll do it again, any time."

"And there's the problem again Dean. You've said it yourself."

"Are you kiddin' me? Seriously? You really think the fact that I'd do anything, anything, to keep you from gettin' hurt is a problem?"

"I thought I'd actually just made it pretty damn clear that I do."

-o-o-o-

Dean turned away, shaking his head. Sam took the opportunity to sit next to his brother on the bench seat, keeping a discreet distance between himself and Dean; hyper aware at that moment of Dean's issues with personal space.

"Dean?"

Dean brought his gaze back to Sam, not bothering to try hiding the hurt, and the frustration held in his eyes.

"Is this for real? Or am I still asleep and havin' some bizarre dream? Well? 'Cos what I think I'm hearin' is that everythin' I've done, everythin' I've been through, all of it; you're sayin' it's was pointless? Crap Sam. Kinda wishin' you said somethin' before I traded my soul for you. I could'a avoided a whole lot of pain if I'd know then that what I really had to do to be nice to you is to let you take all the beatings, the bullets, the blades and all the other crap the job can throw at you, and then you would've been happy. Jeeze, have I screwed up!"

"Dean, please ... Don't make me regret getting off that bus..."

"Hey! Don't let me stop you catchin' the next one dude! Want me to find out what time it runs for you?"

Dean faulted, immediately noticing the hardening of Sam's expression, the indecision, the serious consideration of Dean's ill thought out comment.

"Oh for ... Sam? C'mon. You know I didn't mean that, it's just ... I don't understand. Why would you want me to let you get hurt? It's crazy!"

At Dean's words, Sam's gaze softened and he smiled sadly.

"Don't be a dick. Believe me, I don't want to get hurt, but I don't want you hurt either. I want you to promise that you'll stop constantly acting as if your life is disposable. You might not think it's worth much but, Dean, there's nothing at all that's more precious to me! Obviously we watch each other's back when we're on a hunt. But you insist on going way beyond. Have you ever once thought how I feel whenever you offer your life up on a platter if I'm in danger. Telling whoever or whatever to let me go and they can kill you instead?"

"Ahh! I get it now! Ok, so from now on I'm to stand around checking my flies and let whatever fugly get on and kill you. Could'a saved a lot of blah blah an' just said that right at the beginnin' Sammy."

"Dean! Stop! You know full well what I'm sayin'."

"I need a drink."

"Get over it. I'm not done trying to talk to your one remaining brain cell yet.

"If I can't have a drink, I want pie. You can't withhold pie."

"Fine. Go ahead Dean, treat this as a game. Carry on being a complete fuckwit, 'cos that always helps. I'm about out of patience so listen up...Your next move dictates how things go from here. This isn't a threat brother, this' a rock solid promise. We go finish this back at the car...Or we go our separate ways, right now. And I mean for good. Please don't make the mistake of thinking I'm kidding ... Well?"

Seeing the stern expression on Sam's face, the flint in his eyes, the no nonsense set of his mouth, Dean sighed and stood up.

"Guess we're goin' back to the car then."

"Ok."

-o-o-o-

Sat in the Impala, Dean stared out of the front window, determined he wasn't going to be the one to re-start Sam's idiot rant. Sam took his cue.

"So. This is what I want. I want you to recognise that I'm gonna be looking out for you just as much as you look out for me. I want you to abandon the suicide mission you seem to be on, and I want you to fight as hard for your own life as you do for mine. Do we have a deal?"

Dean finally turned and looked Sam in the eyes.

"Do I have to kiss you?"

"No! No kissing! A simple yes will do - Well?"

"Ys."

"Sorry? Little louder please, as though you mean it."

"Chrissake. Yes! Satisfied?"

"Alright then ... I guess it'll do for a start. We can go get that drink now.

-o-o-o-

FIN.