fandomhigh | Library [04/24]

"Dad said I had to look after you half an hour ago!"

"What?" Sam said, suddenly wishing he could yell without giving himself a headache. "Why did he say that?"

Dean gave him an 'Are you kidding?' look. "Why do you think?"

"Oh for god's sake, you're both out of your minds," Sam said. "So what do you want to do, Dean? Tell me how you want to look after me, because I think I could use a good laugh right now."

Dean may have flinched a little, but his voice just sounded exasperated when he replied. "Yeah, because I've done such a sucky job of it all these years it's just one big laugh riot. It's so funny that I want to make sure nothing happens to you, that the idea of you getting hurt or worse freaks me out like nothing else. Go ahead, laugh it up."

Sam sighed, trying to collect his thoughts before he said something that would really hurt Dean. "You've done an awesome job taking care of me, you know that. And you should also know that I don't want to freak you out. But watching me like a hawk isn't going to keep me from getting hurt."

"Maybe it's something I need to do, okay? It was two days ago, Sammy. Two days. How would you have felt if I told you to go away and stop bothering me right after I got back from Manticore?"

"Gee, I don't know," Sam said sarcastically. "Does telling me that you're fine when I knew that you probably weren't count as telling me to go away? Because in that case, I felt guilty as hell, but I stopped questioning you, and I stopped checking up, just like you seemed to want me to."

"I was fine," Dean insisted. "Or as much as I could be. And no one told you to go away so don't you go putting words in my mouth."

"Well, I'm fine too. As much as I physically can be at this point. And tomorrow, I'll be even more fine. And eventually, I'll be completely fine, like nothing happened at all."

"And you want me to go away."

"I don't want you to go away," Sam said sincerely. "But I also don't want you to go back to this idea that I need to be monitored constantly. There has to be a place of concern somewhere in the middle, where you're just checking up on me because you're concerned about my health at the moment, and not because you feel like you have to watch over me."

"I do," Dean insisted doggedly. "When I don't, you always get hurt."

"That's not true. You're completely exaggerating," Sam protested.

Dean shook his head. "Dad's right. I haven't been keeping a close enough eye on you and look what happened. It's not the first time."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "You act like this is a regular occurrence, and it's not. I haven't gotten hurt like this at all since we got here."

Another shake of the head. "Not here. Before." And now Dean was wishing Sammy would tell him to go away because this was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

Sam was silent for a few moments, trying hard to think of what Dean was talking about, but nothing came to him. "Before when?" he asked, almost all traces of anger gone as his curiosity took over.

Great. Now he wanted to talk. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. That would teach him to open his big mouth. "Do you remember when we were in Winsconsin when you were five?"

"Vaguely," Sam replied. "I sort of remember what the place we were staying at looked like. Why?"

"Do you remember.... anything happening?" Dean had never asked the question before, not even right after it had happened.

"Not really," Sam said, starting to get a little worried. "Why? What happened?"

Dean sighed and took a deep breath. He really didn't want to talk about this, but if it could make Samy understand why he needed to look out for him....

"Dad was gone hunting a striga. You and I had been cooped up in that motel room for three days and I was climbing the walls. Dad had told me not to leave the room, but I just needed to get out, get some air. So after you were asleep, I took the key, made sure the door was locked and went and played video games in the restaurant attached to the motel.

"I wasn't gone all that long, not really, but when I got back, there was this weird light coming from the bedroom where you were. It was the striga -- it had you and was feeding off you -- sucking up your life essence." That particular image was still burned into Dean's retina. He had nightmares about it for months after and it still occasionally popped up into his bad dreams even now.

Sam stared at Dean for a moment, trying to see if he could recall any of that. "I don't remember that," he said. "Did you waste it? Since...you know, I'm okay."

Dean shook his head. "I got the rifle that Dad left loaded for me and pointed it at the thing, but then I froze. If Dad hadn't come back just then, guns ablazing and chased it off, you'd've been a goner."

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