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[gavemea_45]

Angela Mason's dead -- again -- and buried. Again. Hopefully this time she'll stay there.

The pain in his hand is a constant throbbing ache, but Sam ignores it. He's busy sneaking sideways looks at Dean, trying to get a sense of things. So far, it's hard to say, but the scowl on Dean's face as he glares at the road in front of them doesn't bode well.


It's utterly silent in the Impala right now. There isn't even any music.

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[hopeitsworthit]

There's a tic developing in Dean's jaw, and his hands are clenched tight on the steering wheel.

This is bullshit.

It's all bullshit.





Fuck.

And Dean's pulling across the road, going off-road over near the dropoff, parking and shutting off the engine. He doesn't move for a second, letting something--the silence?--sink in.

Then he swings open the door and gets out. He's not waiting for Sam--not this time.

Not--not really.

[gavemea_45]

Doesn't matter if he's waiting or not-- Sam's following him anyway.

Gravel crunches under his feet as he walks over, slowing his steps as he approaches.

"Dean?"

He can't hide the concern, not now.

"What is it?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean busy making himself comfortable on the hood of his baby.

He'll get right back to you, Sam.

Uh.

Really.

[gavemea_45]

He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, not sure what to do.

Temper's one thing, but seeing Dean like this...

... well, it's a lot more rare.

[hopeitsworthit]

Yeah. So this is going real well.

Except not.

He's never been good at chick flick stuff, and this isn't just that. It's important.

It's shit Sam deserves to know.

Which is why, gaze carefully fixed somewhere in the distance--maybe on the horizon line--Dean manages to find his voice.

"I'm sorry."

[gavemea_45]

"You--"

His eyes widen, and Sam shakes his head, startled.

"--for what?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean takes a moment to wonder why, just this once, Sam cannot automatically understand what the hell he's talking about.

Then he gives it up. Because--seriously, it ain't like it's helping, anyway.

He doesn't fidget, just takes a second to look down at his hands.

They're the same hands they've always been. He hopes.

"For the way I've been acting."

There's something else. A lot of something else's, really. He just needs a minute to get it out.

[gavemea_45]

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

For a second or two, it's quiet again except for the distant call of some bird somewhere, and then the crunch of gravel resumes.

It only takes a few more steps before Sam's easing himself down to a seat beside his brother.

He doesn't say anything, though. Not yet.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean doesn't acknowledge that Sam's moved--not in the slightest.

He's got a speech to get through.

"And for Dad. You know? He's your Dad too. He was."

It still kinda hurts to say that.

Jesus.

"It's my fault he's gone."

[gavemea_45]

No.

The denial is instant, unthinking-- but Sam bites it back. Dean wouldn't have said something like that without a reason.

Instead of just letting the words spill out, he takes a careful breath.



"What are you talking about?"

[hopeitsworthit]

He can't help looking at Sam this time, because college boy's usually quicker on the uptake than this.

"Dude, it doesn't take a genius to figure this out. I've been thinking it--I know you have been, too."

Come on, this is practically as basic as it gets.

"I mean--back at the hospital I made a full recovery. Dead and gone to right as rain like it was nothing. That shit just doesn't happen."

What he tries to pass off as a smile looks more like a grimace.

"And when five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone--don't tell me you haven't put this together already, Sammy."

Don't even try to tell him that.

[gavemea_45]

He doesn't try to deny it. Something happened, yeah, they both know that, but as to what--

"Dean."

Sam's voice is quiet, but firm.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's starting to look pissed off.

Or--something.

"You can't tell me there ain't a connection there. I mean, I dunno how the demon got involved, couldn't even guess how the whole thing went down--not exactly. But the one thing I do know is that Dad's dead because of me. Ain't a doubt in my mind about that."

If he could hit something, he would.

Especially if it would hurt. But Sam'd stop him, he knows that, too.

And that'd kill him right now.

[gavemea_45]

"We don't know that," Sam insists. "Not for sure."

Not you.

We.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Sam."

God, right now Dean really fucking wishes he had allergies.

Or a cold.

Or something.

Tears are for fucking pussies.

"You and Dad are the most important people in my life. And I--This isn't--I should've never come back. Fuck. I should be dead twice over. It ain't right. It just--"

He shakes his head, swallowing hard.

"I never should've come back, Sam. It wasn't right, it wasn't natural, it wasn't--it was fucking pointless. I mean, look what's come of it! I was dead. I should be dead. Right now. Then none of this--"

He cuts himself off, jaw clenching as he turns to Sam.

"Anyway, you were asking what I was feeling, and that's it, all right? That's all of it."

God, he really fucking wishes that were all of it.

"So tell me. Given all that shit--what could you possibly say to make it all right?"

And if some part of Dean really does kinda hope Sam's got something tucked in his pocket that'll help--

He's never gonna fucking say it out loud.

[gavemea_45]

He'd asked. More than asked, he'd damn well hounded Dean, trying to drag it out of him, knowing only that whatever was eating his brother up from the inside had to be stopped.

Now here it is, and there isn't a single thing he can do.

Sam doesn't say anything.

There's nothing to say.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean just cracks a tiny, crooked smile.

Yeah, he thought so.

And after a couple more minutes of silence he stands up, stubbornly not wiping his face, and moves to get back inside the car.

"Come on, man. We've got a long way to go."

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, okay."

Sam slides off the hood and heads back around to the passenger side.

He opens the door with his left hand, a little awkwardly, and climbs in.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean is determinedly not looking at Sam.

He's also not keeping himself busy finding a tape. Music'll come later.

He gives Sammy another second to make sure the door's closed and all limbs are accounted for, then revs the engine and pulls back onto the road.

It's gonna be a long-ass drive, today.