Dogtown

By Tidia & MOG, September 2006


Chapter 10/10

Sam dropped their bags into the trunk of the Impala and pushed the lid closed. Two days had passed and he’d managed to barter one free night of room and board by helping the owner’s brother with some of the off-season repairs and clean-up.

Dean spent most of the time recuperating, thanks to, as Sam explained, a ‘mountain biking accident’. Sam had kept half an eye on his brother and Dean had let him. The older Winchester rarely shared his emotions, but most of the time Sam knew what he was thinking, regardless.

Sam assumed his brother’s most recent quiet mood arose from introspection and the human brain’s acute attempt to process an unfair loss of life. The gravel of the driveway crunched under Sam’s sneakers as he walked to where Dean sat on the hood of the car.

The heels of Dean’s boots softly bumped the driver’s side tire with an irregular beat and he didn’t acknowledge his brother’s presence. Only Sam was aware of the bandages and bruising under Dean’s clothes that made his movements stiff and awkward. Sam leaned against the door, folded his arms, and stared in the same direction as Dean - across the street to the beach front and the hypnotic movement of the gray-green ocean.

Finally Sam spoke. “What we do, the hunt…Death is something that we’re always going to see. Sometimes we’re just lucky enough to be in the position to head it off.”

Dean played with the keys to the Chevy before handing them to his brother. “I screwed up,” he stated, keeping his eyes locked on the flickering whitecaps.

Sam shook his head, about to speak, but was derailed as Dean continued.

“I had it, Sammy. I had it right in the palm of my hand,” Dean laughed softly, “literally.” He held one hand up. “My one chance to do right by mom, and,” he smiled sardonically, “follow dad's orders...and I screwed it up.”

Dean pushed off the hood of the Impala, suddenly desiring space, and began walking toward the rocky beach across the road. It took Sam a moment to realize what his brother was talking about. When he did, it was as if a hand gripped his heart and squeezed tightly.

Dean had always done a good job of watching out for him, protecting him. Sam didn't understand how his brother couldn't see that. He followed Dean, catching him on the arm. Dean didn't turn around and Sam didn't try to face him.

“Jeezus, Dean, are you kidding me…you didn't screw up.” Sam struggled to find the words for what he wanted his brother to understand. “I remember once when we were kids, Dad saying how much you were like Mom. She would have been proud of everything you've done.”

Dean turned his head slightly, raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a hint of a grin.

“Okay,” Sam recanted, “maybe not everything. But the fact that I'm here right now, man...You’ve managed to do that for a long time now, all on your own. No mojo required.”

Dean looked again at the water, taking in the appreciation that Sam was trying to impart. He nodded but said nothing. There was some solace in knowing that Sam believed his brother could always watch out for him. Dean just wished he could believe it himself. He risked voicing the suspicion he’d harbored for the last day.

“Ya know, I think I can still heal you.”

Sam hesitated briefly. Would Dean ever relinquish his role as protector?“ But, you can't heal yourself, and I won't let you take that risk.”

Dean didn’t reply. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he walked towards the ocean. “I'll be back in a bit,” he called over his shoulder.

Sam lifted himself onto the hood of the Impala, taking Dean’s place, and relaxed back against the windshield. “I'll be here.”

Dean couldn't prevent the small smile that raised the corners of his mouth. He knew his brother would be.