Chapter Text
Fire. So much fire.
By the time Dean pulled Sam out of the burning apartment, they were both coughing against the smoke filling their lungs. Sam had tears running down his face as he pushed against Dean’s chest.
“No, no, no, NO!” Sam screamed, voice breaking as he continued. “Dean please, I have to go back.”
Dean struggled against the force of his baby brother’s need to run back into what would certainly be a suicide mission. He continued to push Sam backward until they were nearly at the Impala. In one last-ditch effort, Sam dodged Dean’s arms and ran to the side. Before he could get far Dean had Sam’s arm and crushed his body to his chest. Dean could tell Sam’s fight was gone as he slowly collapsed onto the grass.
Dean, thankful that Sam’s final outburst had spun them so Sam’s back was to the fire, followed his brother down. He fell to the ground first, aiming to cushion Sam’s fall.
Instead of begging to be let back into the house, Sam’s voice was now taken by screaming sobs. His entire body shook as Dean pulled him onto his lap. Dean pressed one hand to the back of Sam’s head and the other wrapped around his torso as tight as he could manage.
One of the neighbors must have called 911. Sirens pierced the air and flashing lights filled the street, but all of Dean’s attention was focused on his baby brother falling apart in his arms. Dean slowly started to rock them back and forth. Dean could feel Sam’s fists balling the flannel behind his back so hard the fabric risked tearing. The sound of Sam so utterly heartbroken was something that Dean had never faced alone before. Tears pricked Dean’s eyes before he quickly blinked them away.
Whatever they were doing to the fire was working. Dean couldn’t tell you how long he’d sat there with Sam… minutes, hours, years. His vision started to blur from staring at the lessening fire for so long.
His body had unconsciously fallen into a rhythm. Rocking Sam back and forth, one hand rubbing his back, whispering nothing and everything. Sam continued to scream.
Suddenly their bubble was broken by a paramedic coming into Dean’s view. He could see her mouth moving, but his brain refused to acknowledge any sound other than Sam. Dean could sort of make out her asking if either of them was hurt. He shook his head and the paramedic disappeared from his line of sight. He returned to his task of comforting Sam.
The paramedic appeared again with a blanket in hand, moving forward slowly as if dealing with a wounded animal. Dean then realized that Sam was practically vibrating, shivers racking his body despite the heat of the fire. He nodded and let the paramedic drape the blanket over Sam.
Dean took the hand grasping Sam’s head and pulled the blanket around them better. He tossed a corner of the blanket over Sam’s head. He resumed his rhythm once again.
Dean's attempt to use the blanket as a shield from the chaos seemed to work. He thanked his lucky star and all the gods he could think of that this trick from Sam’s childhood still calmed him down, even if only slightly. At least the desperate screams had stopped.
SPN
After a period of time, Dean can’t tell quite how long, Sam seemed to have cried himself out. The only thing left seemed to be hiccups and the occasional shaky breath.
In the back of Dean’s mind, he knew he needed to get both him and Sam checked out by the ambulance still waiting nearby. As much as he didn’t want to rock the boat, he needed to make sure that his baby brother was alright.
He deliberately made eye contact with the paramedic and they walked back over. The friendly looking woman crouched down in front of them.
“Hi,” her voice was soft and calm. “My name is Racheal.”
Dean nodded, suddenly losing his voice.
“I just want to check you both out and make sure you’re ok. Were you both in the building when the fire started?” Dean shook his head and glanced down at Sam.
“Was he in the house and you came to get him?” Dean nodded again, beyond thankful that these were all yes or no questions.
“Ok do you know how long he was in there before you got him out?” Dean shook his head. If he really thought about it he knew it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. But again his voice refused to cooperate so he settled for playing dumb.
“Alright, I want to at least listen to his lungs to make sure that everything sounds normal. Would that be ok?”
Dean nodded and Rachael stood up to walk back to the ambulance. He shifted his attention back to his brother.
He started to run his fingers through Sam’s hair. Dean leaned forward slightly to peel Sam’s body away from his. The blanket fell down to Sam’s shoulders. For the first time since they fell to the grass, he could see Sam’s face. His baby brother had a look of absolute devastation. Tear tracks were slowly drying on his face, only to be replaced by new ones every few seconds. That light in his eyes was gone and a look of emptiness had taken its place.
Rachael was back and crouched down to Dean’s right, trying to catch Sam’s eye. Dean cleared his throat, “Sammy this really nice lady is gonna listen to your lungs a little bit. She just needs to make sure that you’re ok.” Sam’s eyes grew wide and his grip on Dean tightened.
Rachael noticed Sam’s reaction and quickly jumped into comfort. “Hey buddy, you don’t have to move away from your friend..”
“Brother,” Dean interjected. “I’m his big brother.”
Rachael nodded, “...your brother. You don’t have to leave your brother. All I need is for you to sit up a little straighter and take some deep breaths for me. I’m going to put this stethoscope on your back and when I tell you to take a breath, breathe in really deep and then blow it out. We’ll go at your pace so don’t feel rushed or pressured.” Sam still had his deer-in-headlights look but he nodded his head.
Over the next few minutes Dean mimed deep breaths and Sam followed. Finally Rachael moved on to Dean and quickly gave them both a clean bill of health. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief. At least he saved his baby brother from something.
SPN
Finally, they were given permission to leave by the firemen packing up. Dean slowly picked Sam up off of his lap and placed him on the ground. Sam kept his hands fisted in Dean’s shirt and didn’t show any sign of letting go. If anything his grip grew tighter. Dean put his hands under Sam’s armpits and lifted him to his feet as he rose with him. He pulled Sam into a tight hug to steady him on his feet and to prepare him to walk to the Impala.
Sam let out a choked sound when he realized that he’d have to let go of Dean when he got in the car. Dean rubbed his back to calm him. Once he was sure Sam wouldn’t fall the second he let go of him, Dean pulled back from the hug and they walked the few steps to the Impala.
Dean pulled the door open and carefully guided Sam into the passenger seat. Once he pulled Sam’s fists from his shirt, he quietly shut the door and yanked his phone out of his pocket. Dean punched his dad’s emergency number in and pulled the phone to his ear. The phone went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, Dad. Um, I know I’ve called you a bunch of times but I really need you to answer this time,” Dean’s voice broke at the end. “What happened to mom… the same thing just happened to Sam’s girl. I pulled him out in time and neither of us is hurt but… dad I need you. I’m desperate and I don’t know what to do. Please… please help me. We’ll be at the motel down the street from Sammy’s apartment. Call me if you can,” Dean paused for a few seconds. “I love you, Dad.” He snapped his phone shut and opened the driver’s side door.
Sam was staring ahead with that same blank look in his eye. Dean shifted the car into drive and pulled away from what was left of Sam’s California life.
SPN
A short three minute drive led the boys to the only place they could afford to stay in Palo Alto, the Oakwood Motel.
Dean swung the Impala into a parking spot and looked over at Sam. He still had that haunting look in his eyes as he stared straight ahead.
“Hey um Sammy,” Dean croaked out. “I’m gonna go get us a room. I’ll be right back, I promise. You can even come in with me if you want.”
Sam shook his head, still not making eye contact.
Dean nodded and stepped out of the car. He swallowed down the sudden fear he felt at leaving Sam alone and walked inside.
After paying for the only room they had left, Dean pushed open the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sam in the exact same spot as he left him.
He’d only made it a few steps out of the door when his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence. He yanked his phone from his pocket and nearly cried with relief when he saw his dad’s number blinking back at him. He couldn’t answer the phone fast enough.
“Dad, thank god. I’m…”
John’s voice cut him off, “Dean I’m an hour away. I’m in the car right now. Where are you?” His voice was the measured calm and cold John was known for, but Dean could pick up the slightest hint of panic below the surface.
“I’m with Sam at the Oakwood Motel just down the street from his apartment. Room 118. Dad… he’s bad. Sammy is really bad and I don’t know what to do.” Dean’s voice broke at the end. He tried desperately not to break down and hold on to his last shred of composure.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Now Dean,” John spoke like he was speaking to a child, “I need you to get Sammy in the room and comfortable. Tell him I’ll be there in less than an hour. Call me if you need anything and I mean anything.”
“Ok, I’ll tell him. And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Bud.” The call disconnected.
SPN
Getting Sam in the room went better than Dean expected. He seemed to be on autopilot. If Dean had told him to jump, Sam would’ve jumped.
The second the motel room door shut behind them Dean went into protection mode. He quickly salted the doors and windows and checked every possible hiding spot in the room. It was totally clear, and thankfully, clean.
The room itself was divided. Half with a kitchenette and tired looking table, chairs, and couch. Half with the promised king bed. One of them will have to sleep on the couch, but they’d had worse sleeping arrangements in the past. Again, at least it was clean.
After Dean finished his investigation of the room, he looked at Sam. He still stood exactly where Dean had left him, staring at nothing.
“Alright, Sammy. How about we sit down? Does that sound good?” He got no response, not even a sign of recognition.
Deciding to make the decision for him, Dean led Sam over to the couch. Sam took a seat but continued to just stare in silence.
Dean took a breath. “Dad’s coming.” That got a reaction out of Sam. His head snapped over and he finally looked at Dean. “Dad’s coming and he’ll know what to do.”
Sam nodded and looked back forward. They sat in silence.
SPN
Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed. That seemed to be happening to him a lot today. Finally after what felt like years of silence the sound of John’s truck finally pierced through. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and not just because he knew now that he didn’t have to face this alone. For the first time since John disappeared, Dean finally knew where his dad was. He must have come back towards Sam’s place for some reason. He knew his dad checked up on Sam every once in a while. Sam of course never knew how often, and John had planned to keep it that way.
The sound of a car door slamming propelled Dean forward to the motel room door. He wrenched it open just in time to see his dad rushing towards the building.
As his dad pulled him into a crushing hug, Dean nearly broke down. The smell of gunpowder, motor oil, and whisky enveloped him. It was truly the smell of home and safety.
John pulled back to look him in the eyes, placing a hand on Dean’s cheek. He could see his father’s caring yet worried expression through the blurriness of the tears he was desperately choking back.
After their short reunion, John moved the two of them inside the room. Dean replaced the salt he had displaced upon his hasty exit while John made his way to Sam.
Sam still sat staring. It wasn’t until John got in his direct vision that acknowledged his dad’s presence. It was like a dam broke. One second Sam was all stoic silence, the next he dove off the couch and into John’s arms.
“Daddy,” Sam whined as he fell into tears again. John, slightly shocked, wrapped his arms around him and shifted so he could sit on the couch. Sam fell into his lap with his head tucked below John’s chin.
Meanwhile, Dean stood unmoving not far from the doorway. It was strange yet comforting to see them both fall into the father-son role they once shared.
When Sam left for California he didn’t exactly leave on good terms. That fight had nearly killed John. The words he said were said in anger and he wished he could’ve taken them back the second they left his mouth. He considered it his greatest moment of weakness. When Sam had said he wanted to go to college, it didn’t exactly surprise him. What did surprise him though was when Sam shared that not only did he want to go, but that he was accepted and he was going.
If nothing else, John had felt betrayed. Sam was still just a kid and kids need their parents to guide them. John wanted to be a part of the process. He wanted to make sure that the school was centrally located in the country so no matter where he was he was no more than a straight day's drive away. He wanted to know Sam would be going somewhere safe. But instead, Sam had gone and picked somewhere in California in a city John had never heard of. He could be as far as an almost 50 hour drive from where his son was. So John had exploded on his son, directing his anger at him without knowing what words would come out of his mouth.
He did try to see Sam after that. His first few attempts were less than productive. They fought again and again. It wasn’t until just a year prior to John’s disappearance that they were on speaking terms again, mainly at the insistence of Jess. But with the increase in demonic activity and Sam coming close to finishing his degree their communication had diminished.
But now here they are, Sam falling into the same role he had right up until the fight before Stanford. John wasn’t sure how Sam was going to react. He was terrified that his son would push him away.
But here Sam is, clutching John’s shirt like he might disappear. Despite being a few inches taller than the last time they sat like this, Sam still fit in his dad’s arms just fine.
SPN
Dean felt lost as he watched his dad and brother. He’d never seen Sam so devastated. He also never thought he’d see his dad and brother interact like this again.
John caught Dean’s eye and motioned him towards the couch. It took a second for him to get his feet to cooperate, but once he was moving he couldn’t get there fast enough. John lifted the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Sam’s back and held it open for him. Dean picked up his brother’s feet, slid under them, and buried himself in his dad’s embrace.
John sat for a moment just reveling in the feeling of having his family back together. As much as he hated the circumstances that had transpired over the past few days that had brought them to this point, he couldn’t make himself hate the consequences. Not only did he have both of his boys, he got to hold them and love them.
SPN
Sam cried and cried.
After a while Dean had drifted off, the exhaustion finally winning out over the panic. But it was a fitful sleep and John could tell. Dean would shift or whimper every few minutes. He did his best to calm each of his sons. John would settle Dean by running his hands through his hair when he seemed to be pulling out of sleep.
For Sam, John felt like he tried everything. Shushing, singing, talking, running his fingers through Sam’s hair, rubbing his back, even rocking him as much as he could without waking Dean. It got to a point where it was starting to scare John. Sam seemed like he was gasping for air in between sobs. Sometimes he would choke on air or snot or tears and cough till he risked throwing up.
Dean fully woke up during one of Sam’s coughing fits and looked up to John in panic.
“Dad? What’s wrong with Sam?” He asked, voice raspy with sleep.
“I’m worried he’s going to make himself sick,” Dean’s eyes widened slightly. John continued, “Bud I’ve tried anything. At first, I thought he just needed to cry it out but…”
They both shared a look at Sam’s red face. He’d finally stopped coughing but the crying continued. His eyes were clamped shut and tears continued.
Every so often when Sam takes a breath, he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He did that anytime he was incredibly upset as a child. It broke John’s heart. Instead of holding his adult son, he felt as though he was holding his baby. Truth be told, both his boys will always be his babies. It didn’t matter how old they got or how much they resisted his coddling, which Sam especially did as he got older, John will never be able to see them as anything other than his and Mary’s babies.
This line of thought gave him an idea. He looked back to Dean.
“Dean, do you think you can do me a favor?” Dean nodded. “In the inside pocket of my duffle over there is a little bag. Inside are a couple of Sam’s old pacifiers. It might calm him down. At this point, I’m not really sure what else to do.”
Dean stares for a second. Sam had used a pacifier, or ‘papa’ as he called it when he was little, up until high school. Up until he was 12 Sam was barely able to sleep without one. For the next few years, he only asked for one after a nightmare or when really upset, but he’d vehemently denied he used them after age 14. John and Dean knew he would still sneak it at night on occasion but never brought it up. It was one of those things that you knew but never talked about.
If they had had a normal childhood, it would’ve been fantastic teasing fuel for an older brother. But they didn’t. And it wasn’t like Dean didn’t have his vices. He’d sucked his thumb religiously until he was 13. His baby blanket stayed tucked under his pillow every night until 17.
John knew deep down that his kids held on to their comfort items and practices for too long. At the very least it was bad for their teeth. But no matter how many times he had thought about making them stop, he’d look at the life they were living. Constantly on the road, spending more nights alone than any child their age should, knowing about horrifying creatures, and the persistent fear of whatever killed their mother. He could never make them give up what helped them cope.
So if a pacifier helped Sam calm down at 22 the same way it did when he was 12, John would take it.
Slowly Dean shifted out from under Sam and made the short trek to his dad’s duffle. Sure enough, tucked inside the pocket and wrapped in a scrap of fabric, were 3 pacifiers. He took one and took the few steps to the sink to rinse it off.
Reluctantly he handed it back to John and returned to his seat tucked under Sam’s feet.
John put his index finger under Sam’s chin. “Hey, Sammy baby… I’ve got something for you that might help you calm down. I don’t want you to make yourself sick.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
When Sam gave no response other than another sob, John slipped the nipple of the pacifier into Sam’s mouth. He made a noise of confusion and his eyes opened slightly, taking in his dad's and brother’s faces.
After a long moment, Sam’s lips closed around the pacifier. Over the next few minutes, the two older men watched as Sam slowly calmed himself. Every so often he would take a shaky breath and look like he was about to spit it out, but he never did.
Other than some occasional hiccups and heavy breathing, the room finally fell into a welcomed silence and Sam fell into an exhausted sleep.
SPN
When Sam went limp in John’s arms, he sagged with relief. He’d taken a shot in the dark and it had worked. Dean looked just as shocked and haggard from the ordeal as he did.
John cleared his throat, “Let’s get him into bed. He’ll sleep better if he isn’t so curled up.”
Dean nodded and watched as John prepared to lift Sam. He cradled Sam close to his chest and ignored the popping sound in his knees as he rose off the couch.
It was a short walk to the king bed. Dean pulled back the comforter and blanket so John could lay Sam down. Once he was placed on one side of the bed, Dean pulled off Sam’s shoes. John propped him up enough to remove his outer shirt and then his jeans. Once Sam was down to just his t-shirt and boxers, they covered him with the blanket.
Sam rolled onto his side and pulled the hem of the blanket into his chest, just like he always did. It was comforting to see that even when things were going so wrong, Sam was still Sam in little ways. Dean left John to fuss over his brother for a few more moments in favor of taking a seat back on the couch.
The devastated look on Sam’s face, even in sleep, mixed with the events of the entire weekend were pushing Dean dangerously close to the edge again and he needed a moment to compose himself. His eyes blurred and his breathing grew ragged as the weight of the day suffocated him.
The couch dipped next to him and an arm wrapped around his hunched shoulders. The dam broke. Dean pressed his lips together to keep from screaming out the sobs building in his chest. Tears streamed down his face and he began to shake.
John shifted his upper body around and tucked his hands under Dean’s armpits. Just like he had countless times before, Dean threw his arms around his dad’s shoulders and moved to sit on his lap. Their chests were pressed together and Dean had one leg on either side of John’s hips. His dad started to shush him and rock them back and forth and all Dean could do was cry.
He cried for Sam, for the life he would never have. He cried for Jess and for her family. He cried for his mom and how they still hadn’t gotten what took her. He cried for the look on Sam’s face and for the haunting emptiness in his eyes. He cried for his dad having to watch his son experience the same tragedy as he did 21 years ago. And he cried for himself, because he’d never felt so goddamn hopeless.
SPN
It took a while for Dean to cry himself out. All John did was give comfort. He never tried to stop him or tell him to be strong for Sam.
Once all that was left was a few hiccups and the dead weight that exhaustion brings, John finally spoke. “Alright Bud, I think it’s about time we get to bed.”
Dean nodded and pulled away from John’s chest. Feeling slightly ashamed at his display, he couldn’t meet his dad’s eyes. He slowly slid off of John’s lap and onto the couch before standing on shaky legs.
John stood and pulled him in for a hug. “I think that bed over there is plenty big enough for the three of us don’t you think?” John quietly spoke his suggestion, waiting for Dean’s reaction. He felt a nod against his chest.
After the sleeping arrangements had been decided, John and Dean moved in silence as they prepared for bed. Dean slipped off his shirts and jeans and pulled on a pair of old sweats. John stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers.
John, careful not to wake Sam, crawled onto the middle of the bed and under the blanket. Dean began to follow but hesitated at his duffle. He pushed down his embarrassment as he reached into the side pocket of his bag and pulled out the threadbare blue blanket he used to never be able to sleep without.
John lifted his left arm as Dean crawled into the bed. He wrapped his arm around his son as Dean rested his head against his dad’s chest.
Half asleep, Dean lifted his left hand and slipped his thumb into his mouth. He fell asleep to the feeling of his blanket against his cheek and his dad’s heartbeat in his ear.