In Between Place
By Ridley C. James, December 2005
Rating: T-only for precaution
Disclaimer: I’m guessing Santa didn’t
get my letter-so no-nothing Supernatural is mine.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this is sort of
a continuation for my story Facing the Dark. It’s probably a good idea
to have read that one before starting this one.
Twenty-six year-old Dean Winchester
focused on his breath as it entered and left his body in a slow,
wave-like rhythm. In and out. In and out. I can do this.
He’d never really noticed how one’s
own breath could seem really loud in a dark, quiet room until now.
Especially if that room was in a hospital. And if the person was a
little scared and on edge. And if said person knew that the extremely
noisy breaths were most likely numbered-on the endangered list even.
The young hunter sighed
heavily-frustrated with himself for his line of irrational thoughts-and
glanced towards the one lone window. Harsh late afternoon sun was
seeping through the shades and he found it hard to believe that he’d
already been in the Burkitsville hospital for almost thirteen hours. My how the time flies
when you’re having fun.
His hazel gaze traveled from the
window to the cot beside of it. The uncomfortable looking contraption
didn’tseem too sturdy and it appeared even slightly painful because of
the contortion act his kid brother had performed to squeeze his tall,
lanky form on to it.
But at least Sam was asleep. Deeply
asleep-somewhere nightmares couldn’t find him-his brother hoped.
Dean had resorted to playing possum
to get his brother to take a break. There was only so much brotherly
concern that Dean could endure. So much of Sam’s emotions that he could
hold at bay in his condition.
A part of him wanted to wake the
other man up-talk all night long-about anything and everythingbut what
was happening to them now. Or watch TV. Or play cards. Anything that
He laughed to himself-a pained sound
escaping his lips that had no touch of humor or joy.
The only normal thing that he and Sam
knew was the road-and hunting-and that wasn’t an option at the moment.
It might never be again.
Dean took a deep breath and let it
out slowly-calling the current pity party to abrupt close.
His gaze sought out his brother again.
Sam was now curled on his side, knees
drawn in, but his feet still hung over the edge. One of the nurses had
taken pity on him, and thrown a blanket over his legs.
It was the same smiling woman who’d
brought Sam an extra pillow and a Coke. And Dean- instead of being
grateful to her- had felt a stab of jealousy and envy so strong he’d
wanted to throttle the pretty little thing.
It was the first of many times that
someone else would have to take care of his kid brother and God he
hated it. He’d taken care of Sammy his whole life-and now he had to let
Stanford was hard-but even then there
were frequent trips to check on Sam. Even if Sammy didn’t know about
them. Dean was there-just in case. Just in case Sam fell and needed a
hand up. His big brother was with him.
Now he was too weak to even drag his
ass out of the damn hospital bed to do a fucking thing for Sammy.
Of course it took him nearly taking a
header onto the hard tile floor and giving Sam a slight stroke, before
he’d actually admit that to himself. Chalk another oneup for the
Sam had told him to cut himself some
slack. And added a few choicecolorful phrases to that which even had
the doctor blushing.
He knew his brother was right.
Running into a moving car could really take a lot out of a person.
Especially if said person is already sick.
Dean began to listen to his breath
again, preferring it to his inner dialogue.
But, damn. It was loud.
He couldn’t imagine how Sam was still
sleeping through it’s explosiveness. But then again, the younger
Winchester was exhausted.
He’d finished straw boy and then drug
Dean’s ass to the car and stayed by his side through the first exam and
then paced during all the other tests. Even before that, he’d spent the
whole night driving to rescue his ass in Burkitsville. I wish you’d
just gone back to Stanford, Sam.
Dean sighed, and was about to resign
himself to watching the evening news when a soft knock on his door had
him rolling his eyes in frustration. The vampires were back.
Had he not suffered enough?
Was it really a good idea to drain a
sick person of their life’s blood-and continually harass them?
Dean thought not- but apparently no
one gave a damn about what he was thinking or feeling at the moment.
When he didn’t answer, the door knob
turned and the heavy door swung open.
Dean thought about quickly shutting
his eyes, but realized that the act of sleeping only seemed to increase
the frenzied activity of the nurses so he braced himself and defiantly
met the eyes of person who’d just walked in.
The only person that could have been
less expected was John Winchester. “Dr. Castle?” he croaked.
Marilyn Castle smiled and made her
way slowly into the room. Her leg was giving her less trouble these
days and the time off from work hadn’t hurt, but being in a hospital
room seemed to be more oppressing that usual. Maybe it had more to do
with who she was here to see. She placed a hand on the rails of the bed
and raised an eyebrow. “Well if it isn't the infamous Dean
Winchester-detective/bounty hunter extraordinaire. You look surprised
to see me.”
Surprised didn’t begin to cover his
shock at seeing the Texas psychiatrist, who’d helped Sam out several
months back now standing in his hospital room.The white doctor’s coat
was missing, replaced with designer jeans and a sporty black jacket.
But the mass of silver curls and curious brown gaze was the same. “You
could say that.”
He pushed himself up straighter in
the bed and took a moment to convince himself that he wasn’t having
some strange day dream-or maybe one of Sam’s visions. But if he was
going to have a fantasy visitor it would have definitely been someone a
lot younger and with a little more cleavage showing. No offense to
Marilyn or anything, but he didn‘t envision himself the Ashton Kutcher
type of guy. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know shrinks made house
Marilyn had felt her chest tighten as
she caught sight of Dean. The pale pallor and sunken eyes were bad- but
the weakened voice tore at her heart. He had such a strong, rich voice.
Just one of the many things he would be robbed of.
She forced her professional smile to
the front. “Well usually we don’t, but in extreme cases I have been
known to drop in.”
“Drop in?” Dean frowned. “Texas isn’t
exactly a hop, skip, and a jump from Indiana.”
“But you see, I was at a lovely
little conference in Indianapolis. It was on the new process of grief or something another.” She waved her hand
in the air dismissively, “But I’m not ashamed to tell you that I had
hardly been to any of the sessions.”
“Playing hookie?” Dean grinned.
Marilyn nodded. “Having myself quite
the vacation on the hospital‘s tab I must say. That was until Dr. Jack
Howards called me.”
Dean smiled. “Doctor H still hot for
Marilyn rolled her eyes. “I’m not
sure a man his age gets hot for anything besides a nice piece of rare
steak and a glass of fifty year-old scotch. It‘s not like I‘m Grade A
or a hundred proof.”
“Trust me-he’s got it bad.”
The psychiatrist snorted. “The only
thing he has is bad timing. He called me right in the middle of my
massage with Roland-God’s gift to Sweden- to inform me that one of his
favorite patients was in a small town just a short flight away from
me.” She pointed her finger at Dean. “And you? We won’t even begin to
talk about the unbelievable ballgame I could have gone to see if not
for this impromptu visit.”
“You like the Colts?”
“Almost as much as the Cowboys.” Although that Peyton
Manning was a cutie. She
grinned, knowing good and well she had no clue about anything that
involved bouncing, dribbling, or kicking a ball. Nor did she care to.
“So Dr. H rescued you then?”
“Yes. Thank God.” She finally sat
down in the chair closest to Dean’s bed.
“Bet you were surprised to find
me-here in Indiana of all places-about to give up my boots and all.”
Marilyn smiled. “Not really. Did you
know that both James Dean and Steve McQueen are Indiana boys? Why, I’d
be hard pressed to find a more worthy place for you. And something
about the idea of the Crossroads state suits you just as well.”
Dean forced an imitation of his usual
crooked grin. “John Mellencamp’s from here too.”
“That I did not know.”
The hunter shrugged. “I’m not a big
fan-but some of his stuff isn't too bad.”
Marilyn nodded. “A classic.” She
smiled again. “Now tell me how exactly you ended up being mowed down by
a police cruiser in cornville?” She clucked in mock disapproval. “You
and that brother of yours weren’t chasing more bad guys I hope.”
Dean eyed the doctor. He wasn‘t about
to tell the woman that a homicidal scare crow had chased him, Sam, and
that girl, Ellie, out into the car‘s path, and that he’d gotten
everyone out of the way-but himself. Besides even if he did, she
wouldn’t believe him. And she had the power to commit him. That’s all I
need-another visit to an asylum.
A change of subject was called for.
“How did Dr. Howards find out about me being here?” His eyes
automatically went to his sleeping brother, and for the first time
Marilyn noticed Sam.
“It wasn’t him.” She sighed-looking
achingly at the younger Winchester asleep on the ancient cot, and
marginally lowered her already soft timbered voice. He looked even
younger and somewhat much more vulnerable than she remembered. “How is
young Sam by the way?”
Dean sighed. “Exhausted. Staying up
for two days straight takes a lot out of person.”
“Seeing someone you love get hurt
does that too.” And watching them
suffer does so much worse.
“But to answer your question, the hospital pulled your medical records.
It listed Dr. Howards as your last attending physician-and when they
Dean swallowed hard and finished for
the psychiatrist. “When they found out that I was sick, they called him
to see what treatment he’d outlined.” The pieces fell neatly into the
twisted puzzle that his life was shaping up to be.
Marilyn nodded. “Jack was devastated
that he hadn’t discovered it himself. He felt as if he had done you a
great injustice. The man is many things, but sloppy he is not.”
Dean suddenly felt sorry for the
jovial gray-haired doctor who had saved his life or what was left of it
at the time. “Did you let him off the hook?”
The psychiatrist shook her head.
“Sorry-but no. Confidentiality and all.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t like
I was your client.”
“You trusted me-that’s enough of an
informed consent for me.”
Dean held the woman‘s gaze. “I didn’t
even think you all would remember me.”
“Are you kidding? Why you and your
brother made the ER’s Sexiest Men of the Year list.”
“Yes. Each year the ER staff compiles
a list, complete with pictures and all, of the previous years sexiest
patients. It’s very exclusive mind you-considering the amount of XY
chromosome we see in a year’s time- you and Sam were very high up.”
Marilyn leaned in closer as if to
tell a great secret. “I even hear that there is a racy little pin-up in
the men’s locker room.”
“The men’s locker room?” Dean looked
a little horrified.
“Oh yes,“ Marilyn nodded, enjoying
the boy’s discomfort a little too much. “The Impala looks quite
delicious I’ve been told. All hard and sleek.”
Dean shook his head at the woman‘s
sense of humor. “Dr. Ben still jonesing for my baby, huh?”
“I’m afraid he’s been forlorn since
you took her away.”
“So Dr. Howards sent you all the way
here to check up on me?” Dean was finding it hard to believe that
strangers would go out of their way for a run of the mill patient.
Marilyn didn‘t feel it necessary to
tell Dean that Jack had two grown sons-that he‘d raised them on his own
after his wife had died of Leukemia. There was the issue of
confidentiality and all. “It’s completely professional courtesy, you
Dean gave her a ’yeah right’ look but
she continued on. “He asked if I would mind to hand deliver the records
he faxed to me-so that I could talk with your physician in person.”
Marilyn smiled. “And I couldn’t resist the chance to get to see Sam
Dean snorted. Older women always
loved Sam. “He might have grown a couple of inches, but he’s still that
same, sweet, kid.”
Marilyn glanced at the sleeping
Winchester again, and when her eyes fell on Dean once more, the humor
had faded and her gaze was serious. “Have you told him?”
Dean sighed heavily-the memory of it
still painful and way too recent. “Had to.” He motioned to himself.
“Things started to fall apart.” Things-being him.
“Secrets tend to do that.” She didn’t
say it to be scolding, but Dean still seemed to bristle just the same.
“My problem-my decision as to when to
dump it on someone else.”
“Maybe Sam saw it more as sharing
“You didn’t see his face.” But Dean
could remember quite clearly the look that had raced across his kid
brother’s all too young features.
Denial. Fear. Loss. Then Pain-heart
breaking, gut wrenching pain.
The kind that makes your legs betray
you and your stomach rebel against you. Some of the anger he felt at
himself for causing it seeped into his voice. “It wasn’t one of those
Lifetime originals you chicks dig so much. Trust me.”
Marilyn cocked one of her
well-defined brows. “This chick has seen many of those moments, Dean
Winchester. I know what they look like-and feel like.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair,
wincing slightly when his fingers encountered the recent lump he‘d
attained in the accident. “Sorry, I’m just tired and cranky.”
“I bet.” Being strong for everyone
could also take a lot out of a person. “It‘s hard to be charming all
When Dean smiled she went on. “So
despite the run in with the car, and the obvious situation, how are you
Dean looked at her with suspicion.
“Is that a shrink question?”
Marilyn sighed in fake exasperation.
“I did come all this way. You can allow me at least one- can’t you?
Humor an old lady.”
Marilyn wasn‘t your typical old lady.
“Alright, but at the first sign of any freaky ink blots I’m hitting the
panic button.” Dean looked towards the nurse call device lying near his
hand. “Trust me-the nurses here make your ‘sponge bath Janice’ look
like Glenda the good witch.”
Marilyn shuddered at the thought.
“I’ll play fair. I promise.”
“Go on.” Dean crossed his arms over
his chest and waited.
Dr. Castle mentally rolled her eyes
at the protective bravado. “So?” She raised an eyebrow again, and
waited patiently. “How are you feeling, Dean?”
He could have lied, but then
something about a death sentence seemed to make him more honest than
usual. “Scared.” Freakin’ terrified.
Marilyn hoped twenty-six years of
experience allowed her to school her reaction before the very sharp
Dean picked up on her surprise. She toyed with one of her silver bangle
bracelets. “I think anyone in your situation would be. Death is
frightening- even when we‘re not aware of it‘s proximity.”
Dean shook his head. “I’m not afraid
“Oh.” Of course not. How silly of her.
Marilyn’s eyes went to Sam, as she
recalled the day that Dean had come to see her and the talk that they‘d
shared. “You’re afraid for Sam.” Sam was and would always be the focus
of his brother’s concern.
“He still thinks he can save me.”
Dean would have laughed at Sam’s suggestion if it hadn’t hurt so much
to remember the earnest determination in his baby brother’s eyes as he
told him about the faith healer he’d found in his research. “I don’t
think he’s going to let it go-until I’m gone.”
Marilyn shrugged. “I wouldn’t really
expect anything less.” When Dean stared at her with almost innocent
confusion playing across his face she explained. “He is as devoted to
you as you are to him. I told you that back in Texas. Sam is terrified
of losing you.”
That wasn‘t what he wanted to hear.
Missouri‘s words echoed around him. “People don‘t come
here for the truth.” Maybe
psychics and psychiatrists weren’t so different.
“Yeah, well, he’s not going to save
me.” Dean eyed the woman-challenging her to say otherwise. “You of all
people should know that.”
The doctor didn‘t back down. “I think
I also gave you my little miracles and shit speech back in my office so
I’ll spare you an encore. But, Dean, it’s not my place to tell Sam how
to deal with his grief,” she motioned towards the sick man, “with
this.” She held the young man’s gaze. “Nor is it yours, my dear.”
“And I think I told you that its my
job to take care of Sam. I know what’s best for him, and holding on to
some crazy idea isn’t it. He needs to let it go and move on.”
Castle laughed. “And the Winchester’s
are so good at doing that.” Marilyn waved a hand in the air. “Why just
look at how your father let go of your mother-and how you and Sam moved
on so quickly.”
Smart ass. “This is different.”
“How? Because you got advanced
warning-unlike your mother. Do you really believe she would have wanted
you to spend your lives chasing after her ghost? What do you think she
would have told you had she had the chance?”
“We’re not talking about my mother!”
Dean’s raised voice caused Sam to stir in his sleep and he waited for a
moment to make sure his brother was still in dreamland before
continuing at a lower tone. “I’m not Mom,” he hissed.
Marilyn rolled her eyes, frustrated
with the boy‘s lack of self worth. For someone so confident and cocky,
Dean could be self deprecating to a fault.
She had no patience for
client-centered tactics today-nor did Dean have the time.
“Meaning-you’re not worth the same amount of effort- the same depth of
“Do people actually pay you for this
“Oh Yes.” Marilyn wasn’t offended in
the slightest. She’d had much, much worse tossed at her. “And they
thank me for it later.”
Dean snorted. “Don’t hold your
“Don’t dodge the topic, kid.”
The hunter clenched his fist in
frustration. “I can’t leave without knowing Sam will be okay.” Didn’t
she get that? He would never rest. Sam and his Dad could salt and toast
him, but he still the hell wouldn’t be able to move on.
Marilyn sighed. The poor dear was
still hung up on that. “You don’t say when you leave, hon. I’ve seen
people clinging to life with such fierce intensity it was almost too
painful to witness-but in the end, their efforts were in vain.”
“So I should go softly and stoically
into the night while my brother gets himself killed by some monster-or
something-trying to avenge my death.”
“I’m no more capable of telling you
when or how to let go than I am capable of telling Sam how to do it.”
Dean swallowed hard, trying to hold
back the tears he could feel stinging his weary eyes now. Damn it, he
would not cry. He would not have some weird, girly, pseudo-psych
session on his death bed. “You don’t get it. Every time I’ve left Sam
alone something bad has happened to him.”
Marilyn leaned against the railing,
her warm eyes encouraging now, instead of challenging. “Like what?“
“He fell in a well once when he was
five. Sam would have drown if not for Dad.”
Marilyn smiled sadly. Dean would have
only been about ten-yet even then he saw himself as his brother’s
protector. “Dean, Sam’s not a baby anymore.”
“I know that,” Dean snapped louder
than he meant to-his eyes going instantly to Sam.
“But even when he was older, I
The doctor waited patiently as Dean
finally tore his gaze from his sleeping brother. “How?”
Dean closed his eyes letting various
moments from their past flash through his mind. “There was this one
time when he was seventeen.” The hunter opened his eyes but didn’t meet
the doctor’s gaze-instead choosing to pick at the blanket covering him.
“Sam was in school-close to graduating-and I decided to go on a hu…job
with our dad.” He paused as a sudden sense of longing for their father
washed over him. Dean mentally shoved it aside. Damn you, Dad.
Marilyn could tell the memory wasn’t
pleasant. She momentarily wondered if the young men she had grown quite
fond of had a handful of happy memories between them. “I’m sure Sam was
a very capable young man.”
Dean shook his head. “Capable of
finding trouble.” He did look up this time. “He was in a car wreck with
some stupid punks.” Even thinking about Jeff Wilkerson sent Dean’s
blood pressure sky rocketing. He was surprised that some of the stupid
monitoring equipment he was wired to didn’t go haywire. “Dad and I were
two states away. I wasn’t there for him.”
Dean could recall every torturous
moment of that drive-every feeling of panic, worry, and guilt that
threatened to send him over the edge. Sam was in danger and Dean was
300 miles away. How far would Death take him? God, I can‘t do this. “All I want…,” he choked.
Marilyn’s heart went out to him.
“What do you want, Dean?”
“I want to find the In Between
Place.” If only it were that simple.
Marilyn slowly shook her head, not
understanding what Dean meant.
Dean sniffed and shook his head,
quickly using the back of his hand to swipe at his traitorous eyes.
“Don’t look so worried, Doc, I’m not wigging out on you.” Although the
medicine coursing through him made it a distinct possibility. “It’s
something my mom told me about once.”
Marilyn rested her hands on the metal
bar separating them and leaned her chin against it. “Tell me.”
“It was a few months before she died,
and her and I and Sammy were in the backyard watching the sun set.” He
could almost see the golden glow that fell on his mom’s long blond
hair, almost feel the warmth of the summer breeze.
“I remember she held her finger up to
her lips, and told me to be really quiet-like she‘d do when Sam was
sleeping-then she pointed at the sun. Mom said that when it touched the
Earth there would be silence everywhere. A silence so loud that people
never heard it.” Dean knew it didn’t make any sense-was pretty sure he
was babbling-but the memory had been plaguing him for days now.
He looked at Marilyn and found no
judgments, no criticism, so he continued. “For a single moment,
everything would stop and be completely still-even time.” Dean licked
his dry lips and pushed on before he lost his nerve. “And that’s when a
person could enter the In Between Place- where anything is possible. A
place where all the things that someone’s done wrong can be erased, and
all the new beginnings can be found.”
“Sounds like Heaven.”
“No.” A cold, hard look seeped into
the liquid, green gaze. “I don’t believe in Heaven.”
Marilyn understood. She had felt that
way before herself. Wasn‘t quite sure if she still didn‘t. “I didn’t
mean the place- I meant the feeling.”
Dean nodded. “She asked me if I could
“And did you?”
“No,” he sighed, sounding angry and
disgusted with himself. “ I didn’t even know what she was talking
was talking about hope. “I’m
sure she didn’t expect you to.”
Dean shook his head. “I tried every
night that I was out there when the sun went down. We’d make a game out
of it-you know. She’d just smile and tell me to keep trying. I‘d watch
that big orange ball until it disappeared completely.” The young hunter
frowned. “After she died, I just stopped bothering.”
“You had a lot to deal with back
“But if I could find it now-then I
could fix all this somehow. I know I could. Sam wouldn‘t have to be
going through this. He wouldn‘t have to suffer.” And God- Dean knew how
he’d suffer. He’d watched him deal with Jessica’s death, and as painful
as that was, a death of a brother would be worse. Much worse.
Marilyn felt her own resolve start to
crumble as a single silent tear traced it’s way down Dean’s handsome
face. He looked so much like a little boy in that instant, that Marilyn
wanted to climb over the rail and pull him to her, but that would have
been a grave disservice to the incredibly strong man before her.
Dean motioned towards the window.
“And look-the sun’s setting again and I still don’t have a fucking
Marilyn discreetly wiped at her eyes
and cleared her throat. “There’s still time, young man.”
Dean looked at her as if she was the
one talking about some make believe time and place that a little boy‘s
mother had told stories about. “Have you noticed me here, Doc? I don’t
really think I’ll be making anyone’s sexiest list today. I could just
about be an extra on any Joss Whedon show.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Considering you work with terminally
ill patients on a daily basis, I’m not going to get all tingly about
Marilyn smiled, proud and a little
irked by his attempt at humor. “I’m not sure what your mother meant or
saw in that special place, Dean-but I’m willing to bet it was as real
to her as her family-as real as your family is to you.”
Dean shook his head. “We both know it
was a story, Doc.” Dean believed a lot of things because he’d seen
them, but in his heart he knew his mom was just making some kind of
‘mom’ memory with him.
“Maybe.” Marilyn had seen so many
miraculous things, she wasn’t about to discount a mother’s love for her
Dean sighed. “Even if it wasn’t- I
never did find it. Never heard or saw a damn thing.”
“Maybe you were looking at the wrong
son.” Marilyn glanced to the still sleeping Sam. “You haven’t lost
sight of him yet. Maybe you should let him show you the way.”
The young hunter shook his head.
Marilyn decided to take a risk. After
all-life was full of beautiful risks.She slid her hand through the bars
and covered Dean‘s. “Maybe you should let Sam find that In Between
Place for you.”
Tears rushed into Dean’s eyes again,
and he fought the urge to pull his hand out from under the
psychiatrist’s. This wasn’t the time to run scared. “You mean let him
try and save me.”
Marilyn shrugged and squeezed the
cold hand beneath hers. “I mean-let him love you, Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “I don’t know if
I can.” He looked at Sam, his chest tightening-a gambit of emotions
threatening to pull him under their weight.
“Are you kidding?” Marilyn shook her
head, and tightened her hold on him. She waited until he looked at her.
“You’re Captain Onehelluva Big Brother-you can do anything.”
Dean’s brow furrowed, his head
tilting slightly to the side. It reminded Marilyn of Marshall when he
was trying to figure out a new noise. “Huh?” He hadn’t told Marilyn
about that-had Sam?
She winked at him. “Trust your
Dean was still trying to figure it
all out when a monitor started beeping-it’s loud annoying sound making
his aching head hurt worse. He closed his eyes and when he opened them
again Dr. Marilyn Castle was no longer holding his hand. Sam was.
“Hey,” his soft, concerned voice cut
through the confusion and Dean blinked several times trying to orient
himself to the dim room.
“Hey,” he croaked, searching the
darkness for Dr. Castle-a part of his brain already realizing that he’d
“You okay?” Sam leaned forward in the
chair he’d been sitting in for the last six hours and caught his
brother’s still confused gaze.
Dean felt his brother’s grip tighten
on his hand, anchoring him. He smirked. “Do I look okay?”
The younger Winchester smiled. “You
look like an extra for a Joss Whedon show.”
Dean laughed. “I’m glad someone
agrees with me.”
Silence settled between them and time
seemed to slow down. “I’m sorry I pushed about the faith healer.” Sam
licked his dry lips and tore his gaze away from Dean’s. “It's
just...that I just…”
“Can’t let go,” Dean finished for him.
His kid brother met his eyes and Dean
wasn’t surprised to see the tears shining brightly in the brown depths.
“It’s not as easy as you try to make it sound.”
Marilyn’s words came back to him, and
he nodded. “Winchester’s aren’t one’s to let things roll off them.”
Sam shook his head, and brought his
other hand to join the one already holding Dean’s. His warm brown eyes
held Dean’s green ones with all the same intensity of his grip. “Tell
me what to do, big brother. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” No matter what it cost
Dean tasted the salt on his lips even
before he felt the warm liquid on his face. Let him love you, Dean.
He glanced out the window. The sun was setting, and silence and
His gaze locked with his brothers,
and he smiled. “Get me out of here, Sammy.”
Sam let out the breath he was
holding. “You’ll go to the faith healer?”
I’d go anywhere
for you. “One round trip
ticketto the In Between Place please.”
“Huh?” Sam asked, confusion
momentarily replacing the surprised relief. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m trusting you to get me
out of this, baby brother.”
Dean nodded, smiling as grown up Sam
morphed into an image of the five year-old wide-eyed kid he loved so
much. The older hunter blinked and his twenty-two year-old brother was
back. He cleared his throat. “But just so you know-if I so much as see
Tammy Faye Baker-I am kicking your ass.”
Sam laughed, catching himself before
he could lunge over the railing and hug the other man. “Gotcha.”
“And Sam?” Dean’s smile fell and his
face hardened some. “Don’t call Dad.” Dean had given up on the idea
that their father could protect either of them. He wasn't sure if he
even wanted Sam around John-especially if he wasn't there to act as a
The youngest Winchester frowned.
“No.” Dean had never been more sure
of anything. “We do this together. Just the two of us.” Just like always.
Sam didn’t like it, but he nodded,
more determined than ever to save his family-his brother. He squeezed
Dean's hand. “Just the two of us.”
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