The young man shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the car. How he had desperately wanted this car. Of course, the '71 Chevelle was nice in its own right, but his father's Impala? It was more than just a car to him. She was a part of his life, his family. She was a living, breathing memory of his childhood; of the times prior to this horrible mess. If anything, being in this car wasn't doing anything to calm his agitated state.
His muscles ached, still feeling slightly sore and stiff from previous months. His green glare was aimed at the older man in the driver's seat. The teen anxiously hoped that his uncle would see the anger radiating in his cold hearted glower. When their gazes did meet in the rearview mirror, a sudden swell of guilt flooded through him. Of course, he'd never let his Uncle Bobby now it.
"Son, I swear to God this is fer the best," the older man's South Dakota accent thickly embedded his words. The teen didn't even dignify that with a response. He was too upset to even attempt to form an answer. To him this was anything but 'fer the best.' Another sigh escaped his chapped lips as he pulled his gaze towards the window, hoping to avoid any other conversation for the remainder of the car ride. Of course, that wasn't bound to happen.
"Dean, please stop being mad at Uncle Bobby," a dulcet voice fractured the tension in the car, even if only a little. Dean let out a frustrated huff as he stared at the eight year old next to him.
"Sammy," he wasn't sure where to go from there. Saying that Dean was a brilliant liar would be an understatement. It was essential to the life he lived; it had become second nature to him. He managed to push away the guilt coursing through him as he formulated a lie for his younger brother, hoping it wasn't to cliché for Sam to instantly catch on. "I'm not mad-" He was immediately cut off by a gruff voice.
"Not mad? Not mad, my ass. Boy, I've never seen someone make a scene like that at a hospital over bein' discharged." Sam had a couple of tears glistening in the corners of his hazel eyes. "You think you'd be happy 'bout leavin' that joint after fifteen months." Dean was in fact overjoyed about leaving the white walls of his room that often smelled of disinfectant and Jell-O. But it's not like he was trading that in for the freedom of sunshine and fresh air.
"Seriously, Bobby?" Dean noticed Sam curl up against the car door at the informality, pretending to fall asleep as fresh tears trickled down his face. He bought into the feign action, just so he wouldn't feel as guilty for raising his voice. "You expect me to be fuckin' happy about fuckin' leavin' that joint to go to some Christian brainwashing center?"
"Watch yer mouth in front of yer brother." Bobby's serious tone halted Dean from continuing his inane rant. A pregnant pause filled the void before the older man continued. "Dean, it's a Christian rehab facility. It's the only option we've got right now son." Dean was fuming. He knew Missouri or Pamela had got his uncle to buy into that whole power of spiritual healing crap. There was no fucking way that God or Jesus or whatever was going to fix this, going to fix him. He really didn't have time for that bullshit.
"But I don't wanna fuckin' go," he mumbled under his breath.
Which was followed by a "What did I say about language in front of Sam?" in retort. A gravelly sigh filled the car. Bobby was having trouble trying to stay calm. He wasn't sure if this was going to work either, but they really were running out of options for the poor kid. They've tried practically everything else, some things more than once. Besides, they were tight on money right now. This seemed like the most affordable choice for the time being. "I'm sorry, kid, but yer goin'."
"What about Sammy?" Dean's tone softened at the mention of his younger brother, Bobby's heart ached. He knew that Dean and Sam shared a brotherly bond like nothing he had seen before. He honestly did. But Dean had changed. Unfortunately for the teen, he knew most of Dean's tricks by now and managed to do quite well at not falling for them. Which was quite the feat considering how good of an actor the kid had become.
"Sam will be fine wit' me." The older man caught his nephew's gaze in the rearview mirror once more. It broke his heart that he had to separate the boys, but it was only for a short while. This would benefit both of them in the end, he knew it.
Dean was getting desperate. He wanted to go back to his uncle's house and just sleep for a couple of days in his room. He wanted to erase the last year and half away in silence. Dean knew he couldn't use the 'I'll go back to school' excuse. He wore that one out a long time ago. He had to think of something quick. Something that played off the old him that everyone seemed so desperate to save. "But…but mom."
"Dean, she'll be fine. You can visit her at St. Bartholomew's."
He knew that his uncle was right and even though he had been ignoring his family lately, they were still a major part of his life. They were just being casted a more minor role in this chapter of his life.
"But I promised dad that I would be there for them; that I would be the glue that held the family together when he left. You can't do this Uncle Bobby! What will mom and Sammy do without me? Grandpa Samuel is going to do jack for them! I have to be there for them!"
"You should've thought 'bout that one befer this whole mess started then. Its yer own damn fault son." He hated slapping Dean in the face with reality but it's what he needed. His sense of family wasn't what it used to be. Dean was out of excuses at this point that would actually be considered valid by his uncle. He was slipping fast. Dean regretted the next thing to leave his mouth before he even shouted it.
"What about Adam? I can't just leave him!" He pleaded with frantic eyes. Sam flinched at the name of the other boy. Bobby nearly slammed on the brakes.
"That Milligan boy will be fine wit' out ya, won't he?" Bobby growled. He was seething at Dean's act, his knuckles white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. He was pretty damn close to literally slapping some sense into the boy.
Adam was out as a bargaining chip. He had been from the start but it was worth a shot. Dean had gotten away using a lot worse. He was out of options at this point, deciding to go for a new, drastic measure he'd never dared to try before.
"Maybe I'll kill myself while I'm there." His voice was steady, his tone livid and sad.
"You idjit," Bobby's retort was dangerously low, laced with so much ireful disappointment, Dean almost regretted his last statement. Almost. "That's what got you into this fuckin' mess to begin wit'. Think you'd use a lil' more common sense than that, boy." Dean wouldn't let his gaze falter or his face lose its stoic mask. He knew he could win this one.
"Maybe I won't fail this time," vile determination engraved in each word as he spat it out. Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Sam's bloodshot eyes drowning in tears. His heart literally broke at the sight.
"Well if yer goin' keep up this life yer livin' you might as well then," came the mumbled reply.
"Well it's not like anyone would care! No one would miss me because their lives would be better without me! I-"
"De'…" Sam was choking on the words. This was a thousand times worse than his famous puppy eyes. This was his little brother sobbing, the heart of glass he always carried on his sleeve slipping. Dean wanted to catch it so it wouldn't break but knew he was probably the reason for it in the first place. "Please…just, stop."
"Sammy, I - " He cut himself off as he realized he was crying, too. "Sammy, I didn't mean it like that." The car grew silent as Sam's sobs slowly started dying down. It felt like hours passed by before Sam spoke again.
"Can you just go?" Dean stared at his brother in utter confusion. Why would Sam want him to leave so bad? Yeah, he hadn't been the best brother or role model or whatever, but they had a special bond. They were always there for each other no matter what. Paranoia began to creep in, making itself home by sullying his thoughts.
"If that's what you want, Sam." He felt a fresh set of tears prick at the curves of his eyes. He never was one to hurt his family. Key word being was…
"I just want you to get better." Dean felt himself smile. A small smile that expressed the love he had for his brother's selflessness. Everything he ever wanted was for those he loved. Dean had been like that once…
Guilt began to overwhelm the older boy. Why did he have to remember the way things once were? Couldn't he have just moved on? Why did everything have to be so conflicting? "I don't think I'll be getting better anytime soon…if at all," the older boy spoke suddenly not liking the sound of his own voice. He had such doubt dripping off those words he wasn't sure if he could ever even pretend to believe them.
"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me and mom." Dean couldn't say no. Not to Sam. Especially, not now.
"Fine," was his simple whispered answer. The rest of the car ride was silent from there. Dean stared longingly out the window.
They seemed to be travelling out to the middle of nowhere. Every road for the last hour had been made of dirt. There would be patches of land peppered with a myriad of different trees and others barren of any foliage at all. The sun warmed his face, making him feel at peace for the first time in years.
They finally arrived at their destination after Dean almost fell asleep for the ninth time. He stretched out as much as he could in the back of the beloved family Impala. His back cracked, popping itself back into place. Taking in a deep breath, he winced at the unexpected pain that coursed through his nose. Sam, wide eyed with worry, crawled over to his older brother, who had his face in his hands while hissing in agony.
"Are you okay?" Sam tried not to shout in Dean's ear as he anxiously awaited the reply. Fidgeting, he looked at Bobby. A silent conversation quickly told with just their eyes.
"I'm fine. My nose just still hurts, Sammy." Dean gingerly touched his nose, hoping this wasn't going to be a frequent thing. He turned to smile at his brother. "I'll be okay." Sam retorted with a small, unsure grin of his own. Dean was just thankful it wasn't bleeding this time.
Bobby got out of the car, instructing the boys to stay in the back while he got Dean's things. Dean knew the old man would be leafing through his duffel He didn't blame his uncle for not trusting him though. Dean could barely trust himself. He turned back to his young companion, whose cheeks were still tear-stained. Sam's puffy, red eyes staring back with such lament.
"I'm sorry," Dean choked out. Sam's weary hazel gaze stared into his brother's green one, utterly confused by the apology.
"About what?" Dean knew that it was a question of genuine curiosity but he hated his little brother so much for it. The kid had forgiven him for the hell he had put their broken family through for the past three years. Or was it five? He had lost track over time. It all seemed to blur together like some constant nightmare. Why couldn't Sam just be upset with him? Maybe because then it would be easier for Dean not to feel remorseful towards his brother. But life wasn't supposed to be easy, not after the path he's gone down. Besides, that didn't sound like Sammy at all.
"About…well, everything, I guess." Sam slid over to pull his big brother into a light embrace.
"Just get better, Dean, please," tears threatening to cascade down his face once more. Dean hugged Sam back, feeling worse than he had in years. He never wanted to let go because that would feel as if the virtuous part of his soul was stolen. Sam was what kept him grounded. What kept him feeling as if there was still some good left there inside his tarnished heart. They heard Bobby knock a calloused knuckle against the window, signaling for them to get out of the car. Squeezing his brother for a couple more precious seconds, Dean obeyed.
Snatching his duffel from his uncle, Dean then grabbed Sammy's hand as they sauntered over to what looked like a ranch. It reminded Dean a lot of the farm his uncle used to own before Aunt Karen passed away. They approached a modest looking couple. The woman looked to be slightly younger than Uncle Bobby. Her coffee colored eyes gleaming with sorrow, contradicted the gusto in her smile. Her frail, lithe fingers twisting around a small, silver cross draped around her willowy neck. The man next to her ran a hand through his raven colored tresses, blue eyes showing indifference to their arrival.
"Hello," she shook Bobby's hand with delicate grace, "and welcome to Mercy House. You must be Mister Singer." Dean noticed his uncle nod as he then shook the man's hand.
"I'm Paul Hartley and this is my wife Edith." Paul eyed the boys behind him, offering them a weak grin.
"Will both of you boys be joining our happy home today?" Dean scoffed at her sickeningly sweet voice. Like hell this was a happy home. It just gave him those nine kinds of crazy vibes.
"Just the older one," Bobby gestured towards Dean over his shoulder. Dean shuffled uncomfortably as the woman's gaze focused on him. Sam clutched his hand tighter. Bobby turned towards them, sudden uncertainty lingering in his eyes. "Okay boys, it's time to say yer goodbyes." Tears twinkled in the youngest Winchester's hazel hues.
"Sammy," Dean crouched down, hand softly tilting his brother's chin up so their eyes met. A serene feeling fluttered through Dean. At that moment, he felt like that big brother Sam had once looked up to. "Shh, stop crying for a moment, 'kay?"
"Bu-but what if I never see you again?" Dean ruffled Sam's hair in loving jest.
"Please, you'll never be that lucky." Sam let out a light chuckle through a stifled sob.
"But what if you…forget?" Dean could feel the nudging guilt flow through him. Was Sam getting at what Dean thought he was getting at?
"Forget about what?"
"Us. Mom and Uncle Bobby and…me." His voice sounded broken and dejected.
"I could never forget you." He wiped away a couple of Sam's stray, "I could never forget anyone. Not even if I tried."
"How do you know?"
He pulled out the necklaces looped around his neck out from under his shirt. He lifted a white gold, Celtic cross with tenuous fingers, "See, mom's always going to be here with me." He then lifted some old, tarnished dog tags, "Dad will be here, too." He then slid his fingers over a golden, Egyptian amulet on a leather cord, "And you'll always be here with me."
"Over your heart," Sam said as he cupped the three necklaces in his hand, sliding them over his brother's chest so they lay over Dean's heart. Dean couldn't help but smile. He used to hate moments like this, but now it was all he had to make sure that his brother still loved him.
"Always," he hugged Sammy tightly, kissing his forehead. "Love you, bro. You be good for Uncle Bobby, 'kay?"
"I promise. Love you, too, De'." Dean easily straightened himself up, staring apologetically at his Uncle.
"Just get better, son." Dean wrapped his arms around his uncle, finally feeling a tidal wave of remorse crashing down. He knew it would go away though. It constantly did. He was left speechless. "I'll look after Sam and Mary." Bobby stared into his nephew's eyes, seeing the boy he once knew. He ruffled the kid's hair. It pained the older man to know that his nephew was slipping through the cracks.
Dean wanted to apologize but knew it would be meaningless words coming out of his mouth. "I'll try not to fuck up this time." It was more akin to a question than a promise.
Sooner than he would've liked, Dean watched his family drive away in the beloved Impala. At that moment, he decided he wasn't so sure if he could remember them. As time went on, he usually had a harder time of separating reality from his the place inside his head. But maybe this time, this time he wouldn't have to rely on his old vices. He wouldn't rely on Adam. His heart gave a stinging squeeze.
"Dean?" The teenager whipped around, facing the Hartleys. Paul gave him a fatherly smile while Edith extended a hand. "Why don't we go inside and get you ready, dear?" With a sigh, he rolled his eyes dramatically, turning around to follow them with little alacrity.