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goodsoldierandnothingelse · 2 years ago

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Moment of Truth

Adventures on Kik/Skype/Discord with @alwaysaweapon Blockquote: alwaysaweapon ; plain: me - Takes place in season 10, after Dean reverted back from a demon -

The brothers finally confess some shit to each other...

With everything going on in their lives, Sam was aware that he and Dean hadn’t really had time to just– be themselves. They were used to chaos; their lives thrived on it. But they also managed to get time to just relax and recover. Time between bouts of chaos where they could unwind and prepare for the next hit their lives were about to get. But this time around, there hadn’t been a break between things. It was getting to him, and he could tell Dean wasn’t himself, either. Not that either of them were really themselves these days, but even the lack of time to sit and talk was taking a bigger toll on them than he’d ever realized it would.

Ry was asleep, by now. He’d made sure Kassie was safe, at least as much as he could. Really, it was bound to happen this way; the two of them ending up awake after anyone else. Forced to admit they had let things push them too far apart. So when Sam heard his brother moving around in the library, he followed the sound and leaned against the door frame.

For several moments, he just watched. The weight of so much sat on Dean Winchester’s shoulders, and the bastard wouldn’t relinquish any of it to his brother. That was something Sam hated most; he could help, and had proven that in the past. But Dean was all about protecting him from– everything. But seeing his brother all but crumbling under the weight of the Mark, of all the crap they were dealing with, destroyed him.

“Need a hand?”

To be honest it had been a couple of weeks now that Dean had officially given up finding a cure for himself. The research was going absolutely nowhere and all he got from it was new levels of frustration and bouts of panic. He knew he had to come to terms with the fact that he was dying,–even though he wasn’t ready. Not just for selfish reasons but for the people he cared about most. Sam, he had to know would be safe and carry on without him, and that Ry– Well, he didn’t even know where to start and finish with her. He finds out this deep dark secret about her, how she’s somehow Crowley’s super charged vessel from making a deal with him in Hell and is now bound to him like some prisoner, and he’s just suppose to die and let that stand? He had be planning on making Sam, (and Cas, too), promise that they’d do whatever it took to break her free, but all this shit kept dropping on them like an endless swarm of birds flew over their heads that there really hadn’t been much time to do anything other than try and dodge it. Their dodging could definitely use some work, but it wasn’t exactly their faults. Evil just followed them around like a lost Hellhound.

Dean had been instead pouring himself over new research, looking for ways to break the connection Crowley held over Ry, and he had become obsessed. Not only did it prove a great distraction, not just from his impeding doom but also from the itch the Mark gave off. Of course, he still needed to hunt-to-kill, but it was definitely better than sitting around, feeling himself slip further and further away with every second.

Which is how Sam found him, gathering every book he could find that even remotely brushed up on Ry’s case and opening them among the two long tables that centered the library. Dean’s head had snapped up when Sam pierced the empty air with a question, and Dean had to actually take a moment to realize he was talking to him.

“’M sorry, what?” he asked, looking confused.

A weak smile crossed his feature briefly before he nodded toward the table, leading with his chin to signal toward the material spread all over. “You seem like you might need a hand.” He offered again, pushing from the door frame and actually walking into the room. His hands were dug deep into empty pockets, shoulders tight and close as he subconsciously protected himself from the stress they were all under. “I thought I could be some kind of help.”

He stopped at the edge of the table, gaze rolling over the open books and pieces of ancient looking paper strewn across the top. His brows lifted as he picked out a few key words. Not what he’d expected to find, and his gaze lifted to Dean slowly. There were a million questions he could ask right now, but he was sure his face said it all. “What’s this?” He managed at last. He kept his worry and accusations to himself. That Dean wasn’t even bothering to look up more on the Mark had stopped bothering him as much as it had. He had learned to leave that topic alone, do what he could on the side. But this was something new, and it was clearly something his brother was concerned about.

They’d always kept secrets, he and Dean. It seemed like that was just part of their interaction of late. Secrets, lies, half-truths. Whatever it took to protect each other from anything and everything. They both hated it when the other revealed they had been doing just that, and yet they were both guilty. It never occurred to either of them, he didn’t think, that others around them would start doing the very same thing. He knew this research didn’t involve him. And there was slim chance it had to do with Dean himself. That left a few options, but Sam had an idea he knew who it was. Which meant she had definitely been around them far too long. Poor woman was doomed, just as they were. Just as so many before her.

Not only had Dean been distracted but it had been a while since he had exchanged words with his brother that weren’t about whatever crap they trying to deal with, and he was caught off guard a little bit. Sam, however, clarified for him and motioned to the messy table, revealing his intention to help. Oh, he thought lamely, and then thought that it would certainly be the kind of help he would wish for. Instead of Sam trying his damnedest to find a cure for him when it was clear that there just wasn’t one.

Sam came into the room and began looking over the open tomes, trying to piece together what Dean was researching for before he asked, his expression displaying a range worry and therefore told him that he got the gist. “Somethin’ I’ve been meaning t’bring up,” he confessed to the younger, his own expression telling that he, too, was struggling from their lack of a break. “An’ somethin’ I do actually need help with.” Now and after…if they didn’t find the answer quickly. Which, given the fact that he hadn’t found it already, leaned more towards later,–as in too late for him to finish the job.

Dean stood straight, looking at his brother head on, as he presented his request to him. “Ry told me that she’s Crowley’s vessel; that they’re connected an’ that he’s somehow storin’ power in her, usin’ her like some damn external hard drive. I guess for insurance. An’ we can’t just kill the bastard or Ry’ll end up dead, too,” he explained, growling a little at the end in anger. “So I’ve been tryin’ t’find a way t’break the connection before I carve out his eyes an’ feed ‘em to him ‘til he chokes.” Just one of the scenarios he’s imagined, but it was clear that he intended for Crowley to pay for what he’s done. “So far I’ve found a couple of maybes, but they’re far from easy. An’, not t’mention, dangerous. But maybe together we could figure somethin’ out.” He looked at Sam, a small hopeful plea hidden behind his eyes, knowing he was best at this sort of stuff.

It took a moment for Dean’s words to sink in. Vessel. The word in itself sent a chill through him. The idea of anyone being a vessel was terrible, and he knew firsthand what it could entail. But for Crowley? It made him feel a little sick at the thought. Of course, it also explained a few things about Ry. More than he’d like to admit to his brother at this point in time. He took a deep slow breath and nodded his understanding.

“Of course I’ll help you, Dean, you know that.” His lips pressed together at the words he needed to say and he almost kept them to himself. But if they didn’t get said now, they’d get said during a heated moment as a weapon, as they were both so good at doing, and he wasn’t willing to allow that to happen. “Please just keep in mind the chance that– that you can’t help her. Being a vessel isn’t something typically easy to sever, and we both know that. I just– I want you to be prepared if that ends up being the case.”

Maybe with a demon it was different. Angels were connected to bloodlines, some to specific people that could contain their power. It wasn’t like that for demons, not generally. But with how little they knew– really knew– of Crowley, he wasn’t willing to make that assumption. Not when Ry was involved.

A small wave of emotion came over him as he realized that, despite his misgivings toward her of late, she meant a lot to him. Somewhere along the way, she had become more than just Dean’s woman to him. She’d become family, much like others they’d stumbled upon along their lives. The idea of Crowley, out of anything and everything, having his claim on her actually angered him more than he expected. And he couldn’t ignore the pain he saw in his brother over it. Or the blame. Of course, if it were him and Kassie? He was sure he’d be in the same state Dean was currently. Because despite their stubborn ways and heavy denial, the Winchester boys had fallen in love with two very different but equally amazing women.

“But,” he swallowed his emotions and nodded, meeting Dean’s gaze. “We’re not going to give up until that is the only thing left on the table. I promise.”

Had Dean really expected Sam to turn him down; no, Ry had come to mean something to him as well. Of course, their relationship was different, but it was obvious he cared about her and what became of her, just as he did. Especially after he had informed him that a certain demon had his hooks in her; the concern and fear forming to reflect his own. Nevertheless, a surge of relief past through the older hunter at his words, the crushing weight on his shoulders not so crushing anymore with his baby brother on board. That was until Sam brought up what he felt needed to be said, and his muscles screwed themselves up tight again.

But Dean didn’t yell, or interrupt, only listening and mulling around the scenario that Sam wanted him prepared for, just in case. Of course, the mulling was cut short when Dean refused to consider that an option. Shaking his head, he flatly said just that, “No.” He looked at Sam, his eyes hard and unwavering. “That’s not an option.” Ry couldn’t remain under Crowley’s control and be his puppet; nor could Dean accept his own fate if that was hers and that was something he needed to do before it was too late. “Sammy, you gotta promise me you’ll find a way. If we can’t–” He paused but took a bracing breath and continued. “Even if I don’t make it–” His expression developed into a visible plea, “you gotta save her, man. Please.”

What his brother was asking shouldn't be that difficult to agree to. But he had his reservations, and had good reason for them. Ry was important to him, as Dean was, and he'd do anything for them both. But he'd never put Ry before his brother. Which, essentially, was what was being asked of him at this point. Ignore Dean's-- affliction and focus on saving Ry. He'd watched his brother go through so much already, and didn't intend to just sit back and let things happen the way Dean seemed to think they would.

"I'll do my best to help her, Dean. I can at least promise that much. But I won't turn a blind eye to you. We still need to find you a cure." He declared. "Look, if what you're saying is true, then-- we've never seen anything like what you described. Hell, I didn't know that was even something that was possible, let alone something that Crowley was capable of."

Dean's expressions went through a series of phases, reacting to Sam's reply, before he settled on a more neutral look that told he was listening, even if he wasn't in one-hundred percent agreement. Sam knew of his frustration in their numerous dead ends they had met when researching the Mark, and honestly, he was too exhausted to argue. Not just because the hour of the clock, but mentally, he was fried. Fighting against the dark force rising within him took more effort than he could deal out. Sam would do what he thought was right, anyway, (stubbornness was a family trait), and his breath would only be wasted if he tried to tell him otherwise. It was best just to move past it and focus on the latter half of his reply. "Yeah, well, Crowley's a crafty sonvabitch," Dean offered as an explanation. "How else would he've climbed his way t'the top? Doubt Hell utilizes democracy." He glanced down at his piles of books, gesturing a page to Sam. "From what I can tell from these books is: that Crowley did to Ry kinda like what Gadreel did to you. Leaving his Grace behind in you. Of course, the only grace Crowley possesses is those ties he wears... Basically, though, it's the same principle. Only instead of grace, it’s demonic power. Which, as we both know, is a fuckin' party to have rampant inside of you..." He shook his head, getting lost in his memories for a moment.

"Crafty isn't the word I was thinking," he grumbled, running a hand across his eyes as he thought about what else the King of Hell might be hiding from them. They'd never really thought about how Crowley had climbed the ranks, just focused on the fact that he had and that it made him a bigger threat. And, on occasion, an asset.

Dean explained what he'd been able to find in the books, so far, and it actually made sense. And if he'd felt dirty with an angel's grace left behind in him, he could only imagine what Ry must be feeling. And that she'd made a deal for that to happen-- he didn't want to know what kind of a contract that entailed. "Yeah, it's not a good situation. How long has his power been in Ry?"

Dean shrugged, scratching his head behind his ear. "I don't know. Since Day One? Since she got out of Hell? She told me that's why he pulled her out." Of course, it was only recently she found out, actually remembered it at all, after...he kicked the living crap out of her and Crowley healed her. Again, he shook his head, but this time with hatred, mostly towards himself. That was another reason he felt like he had to help her: he owed it to her. But that was only a portion. It was no secret that he cared for her deeply, that he lo-- And this was a fate she didn't deserve to live with; a fate he wouldn't let her live with. No. But he couldn't do it on his own. Thus why he asked Sam for help, and who he trusted to see it through, even if he wouldn't be able to.

Sam nodded slowly at Dean's words, thinking over what he now knew. He remembered how it felt to have Gadreel's grace in him. He remembered what it was like having Meg possess him. He couldn't imagine what Ry felt. What it was like having Crowley's power in her, knowing that she had made a deal with him over it. Then he tried to imagine how Dean felt, knowing that the woman he cared so deeply for, maybe even loved, was a tool of Crowley. "We'll figure it out and free her from him." He assured his brother. "No matter what it takes."

There was a heavy silence as the weight from the disturbing truth, and the panic that ultimately followed, settled between them. Dean thought now, though, that they might have a chance in finding an answer. It was Sam's forte after all, coming up with solutions. Well, one of his fortes, anyway.

Sam broke the quiet with another promise, this time worded in a way Dean could accept. No talk of giving up and accepting the fact that Ry was just going to have to live with being Crowley's bitch for the rest of her life.

Some peace of mind finally found Dean, and he looked over to his brother with sincere gratitude written on his face. "Now you're talkin'," he approved with a short nod, but as he glanced back at the books on the table, he felt that flash of enthusiasm dissipate. He had lost track in how long he had been going at this; he wasn't even sure what the hour was now other than late. But how could he afford to stop now? Oh right, he couldn't.

Sam dove into the work with ease and practice. His eyes scanned the pages, not taking in much, but searching for the key words he'd set in his mind to look for. It was an easy way to get through a ton of books thoroughly, without taking months to get through. Not that he thought this was going to be quick by any means, but habits were difficult to break.

He didn't know how much time had passed as he set aside the fourth or fifth book he'd been through. He chewed the inside of his lip, deep in thought. "Have you talked to Cas? Might be possible to get Crowley's power from her the same we he got the Grace out of me."

Dean was going through numerous case files the Men of Letters had on demonic possession, but none of them told of an instance where demonic power had been left behind. At least, not to the extent that Ry currently housed. Though, Dean couldn't imagine many demons willing to separate with their power, even as a precautionary measure. Leave to Crowley and using his...whatever she was to him these days.

When Sam finally broke the silence, Dean realized that he had been reading the same sentence over and over again. He dropped the file and sat back in his chair, taking both his hands and rubbing his blood-shot eyes with his fingers. "Uh," he started when he dropped his hands from his face, keeping his eyes shut for a moment longer while he thought over that idea. "I don't think one tiny needle's gonna cut it." He opened his lids to glance over at Sam. "Besides, I already tried him. Said he'll try an' come by soon, but that he's never heard of a demon storing his power like this..."

Of course Sam had plenty to say on the subject of Cas. He had questions about how their friend brother was doing in his own mission, and more... but they had a new focus for the time. Instead he nodded his understanding of Cas not being able to help right away. "Crowley's more than just any demon," he noted. It had become significantly clearer the longer they knew him that the King of Hell was more than he appeared. "Maybe-- maybe it's a spell of some kind?" The suggestion was something he was sure his brother had thought of, but he wanted to get on the same page if he was going to help. At least it was working as a distraction for him, as well, from the thoughts he had been dwelling on the last few days.

Sam stated the obvious, that Crowley was far from the ordinary demon, and of course, Dean had factored that in, which just led to more piles of research. He pointed to one then. "Spell pile's there," he informed through his fatigue. "Like I said, I've found some things to try, but they're just a bunch of maybes; hypotheticals, no proof they actually work. I'm hopin' t'show Cas when he gets here, see what he thinks. In the meantime, however..." More and more research.

Dean didn't have to say much, as the rest of the statement was clear by the piles around them. "Did you make a list of the possibilities?" Sam wondered. "I could try finding more on them." It was no secret that he had spent more time going through the massive library the Men of Letters had amassed than his brother had. He knew the layout of the books pretty well by now. A blessing when they were in a tight spot, but it also gave Dean and Ry something more to tease him about.

Make a list? How could he make a list when he wasn’t even sure what exactly he was looking for. “I pulled out all an’ every file, book, film reel, I could find that even remotely related. If we don’t find an answer in here,” his eyes roamed the table top, “we’re gonna have t'start lookin’ elsewhere.” Which would mean their chances would drop exponentially if that happened. Dean didn’t even want to consider what would happen to Ry if they weren’t able to free her, for the thought alone was enough to make him lose it. And him losing it wasn't exactly in anyone's best interests.

He suddenly stood up and walked over to their mini-fridge he had set up, but instead of reaching inside for a beer, he grabbed the whiskey he had placed on top of it.

Sam sighed, nodding. He thought that was probably the situation. That was always their luck. He let silence settle for a while longer, then sighed again. Not looking up from the book he was reading, he broke the silence again. "You really love her, don't you?"

Dean almost overflowed the glass he was pouring the whiskey into as Sam asked him a single but loaded question. He stopped the flow just in time, recapping the bottle, and then bending down to sip off the excess of the amber liquid. He made sure to swallow down more of the drink before he supplied a response, his memories taking him back and the feelings they brought on. "Yeah," he eventually said quietly, just above a whisper, looking down at his drink. "I guess I do... Wish t'God I could stop." He shook his head and took another gulp.

He let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I know the feeling." He muttered, then stood straight. "Look, it's obvious you love her; even she can see it, I'm sure. And I know you'd do a lot for her but-- how far will you go for her? As far as you would for me?" History itself said that Dean would literally do anything for his younger brother. Sam didn't know for sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother would do the same for the woman he loved.

Sam muttered a response that sounded like he could relate, which just confused Dean, but before he could question him on it, Sam continued. Another loaded question was thrown at him, that felt even heavier than the last, and Dean had to take a second to consider his answer. "Yeah," he breathed, nodded. "Yeah, I would."

Sam nodded, figuring that was going to be the answer. "Okay," he said, pushing away from the table and moving to the bookshelves. He scanned the bindings, grabbing a few as he went. It wasn't his first choice of action, but it may be what was needed. That was, if he could find what he was searching for.

There was a long pause of silence that followed his affirmation as it seemed to hang in the air, but Dean broke the quiet after so long. "I wouldn't, though, y'know," he admitted quietly, or at least the best he could considering he hated talking about this kind of stuff. And he felt kinda guilty, too, but it was still the truth. "Over you... I wouldn't. I still mean what I said back in that church... An' that just ain't ever gonna change. No matter how you feel towards me..." Mostly, he was just muttering, not even sure if Sam could hear him, but the fatigue and the drink was loosening his tongue. And he just sorta needed his brother to know that.

Sam set the books he'd grabbed on the table, looking at Dean as he spoke. A small smile formed at his brother's words, nodding. "I know, Dean. But-- I wouldn't be angry if you did. You've spent my whole life with me. You deserve to have love like you do with Ry."

"Yeah, well-- still." He took another drink. Deserving was a bit of a stretch. Honestly, it was a damn miracle Ry was even still around, let alone felt something akin to what he felt for her. But, deep down, he knew Sam would always come first, no matter what. It had been woven into his being since the beginning; that wasn't something he could change.

"What'd'ya mean?" he asked after another pause, looking over at Sam as he turned to rest against the fridge. "That you know the feeling?"

Sam's brows furrowed as he scanned through the books. He wasn't going to bother pushing the subject anymore. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd found-- oh. "Uh," he looked up, scowling as he thought about how best to respond. A hand moved to rub the back of his neck as he let out a heavy sigh. "Look Dean I--" he let out a breath. "I think I love her-- Kassie, I mean. And that-- that scares the shit out of me."

Dean was thankful to find Sam wasn't as drained and discouraged as he felt currently, needing at least one of them to keep going before he regained some strength back and took another swing. Because as he said before, he couldn't just give up. He wouldn't, not on her. But even so, he couldn't help but wonder what Sam had meant, when he could relate to how he felt about Ry, or the weird, slightly uncomfortable feeling it gave him. The British witch hadn't even occurred to him, honestly, as he was stuck on the few thoughts that had popped into his head, but when she was brought up, Dean mentally scoffed at himself for forgetting what should have been his first guess. But at least that duh moment spared Sam what would have been Dean's initial reaction to that news. Especially when he led off with, 'I think I love her.' Truthfully, now he was just relieved he hadn't meant Ry. "Really?" Dean questioned, just hinting on skeptical. "Do you even know her that well? I mean, other than the fact that she's a witch." And all the unpleasant details that entailed. But even as he questioned, he remembered seeing that look on his brother's face when she had trespassed on their home and he had brought her inside. He had even defended her 'til he was red in the face. Dean had hoped, he guessed, that whatever he had felt for the supernatural woman would pass.

Sam dropped his hand as Dean replied, not far from the response he was expecting. He supposed it was better than yelling at him and accusing him of repeating the past. He gulped a little, nodding in response, to start. "Yeah, I do. I've-- uh, I've spent a lot of time with her. She saved my life in London. I met her parents, even." He chuckled at that thought, remembering how her parents had been when he was there. "She's-- unlike anyone I've ever met. So strong and intelligent. She's been through war. She cares about everyone and everything-- maybe more than they deserve sometimes." He sighed. "Yeah, I know her. The fact that she's a witch doesn't even come close to the top ten amazing things about her, Dean. And I wish you could see past that part of her."

Dean knew, of course, how the two met-- though, arguably it was more like he saved her life, despite how Sam put it now-- and then when she had shown up, knocking on their door, one early morning, but besides that he wasn't sure of other times the two could have been together. But he had noticed when Sam would go missing, usually without him telling him first, or giving him some excuse that didn't always seem to sit right, so that explained some things. Dean had guessed it had been a woman, who was sirening her way with his little brother, he just, again, hoped that it hadn't been the witch but someone normal, safe. But that just wasn't Sam, was it? Dean had remained quiet, processing as he watched Sam from where he leaned, taking gulps of his drink now and again, and realized just how far his brother fallen for the woman he spoke of. Especially when he categorized of her being a witch as something amazing. Man, he really had to have it bad... Sam said then that he wished he could see past that; Dean clicked his tongue. "Look, Sammy," he said, not unkindly but just stating how things were, "you might be up to drinkin' the Kool-Aid-- or brew, or whatever-- but I ain't." He paused for a second, thinking. "But you're right. That should scare the shit out of you."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed and shook his head. "Never mind, Dean. Forget I even said anything." If his tone didn't tell Dean he was done talking, the fact that he went back to scanning books should have. In fact, he was focusing extra hard on the pages, now. How could he have thought that Dean would be even slightly willing to listen to him and have an actual conversation without insulting him or Kassie? Clearly that was far too much to ask for. His jaw clenched as anger filled him. This was different than his past mistake. Yes, he loved Ruby, somehow, at some point. But she was literally pure evil, a demon. Kassie was about as far from that as anyone could get, but getting Dean to see that was impossible. He'd always find a reason why Sam saw her the way he did, and apparently now why he felt about her the way he did.

Sam took the usual way out, opting to shut the conversation down before words could be said and feelings bruised, turning his attention back to the books in front of him. But what Dean couldn't figure out was-- "You're so defensive when it comes to her," he pointed out, shaking his head. "I just-- I don't get it. Or how-- How you could even fall for someone like that. I mean, it's not like she's The Girl Next Door." Although, Sam's track record with supernatural woman wasn't exactly a clean slate, but it wasn't like Dean understood then, either. And not to mention, how well those turned out. "She's-- dangerous. Tiny, but..." So, so tiny... "Dangerous."

Sam was now just letting Dean talk and choosing not to respond. He wished he could say he wasn't listening. But, unlike Dean, he couldn't tune people out so easily. Instead, he heard and internalized every word, but didn't react in any way. It was safer, anyway. There had been enough arguments lately.

And again, Dean was met with silence, even though he was trying to understand. He might've pushed the subject, but ultimately, Sam first brought it up. And now he didn't want to talk about it? Dean sighed, scratching at the bridge of his nose, before saying, "Sam, look." He dropped his hand, his tired gaze going back to his little brother. "I'm not tryin' t'piss you off, okay? 'M not. Just tryin' t'understand." And he was, truthfully. He just wasn't great at not coming off like an asshole about it. But he had a reason for that; he had his reasons for not trusting the witch, that went beyond the obvious.

Sam looked up again at his brother, lips pressed together to keep himself from saying anything he knew he'd regret. "I can't make you understand something when you don't believe what I'm saying is true. That it's truly me and not some spell. And especially when you hate the woman I'm talking about."

Dean didn't believe Sam was under a spell-- At least, not anymore. Not since he had asked Cas to discreetly check on him and discovered nothing abnormal about his brother. He had moved past the idea that Sam had found himself in another Becky situation. However, the latter half to Sam's argument held true and Dean couldn't deny that. He pursed his lips, looking down at his glass he held for a moment.

"I believe ya," he admitted to him, glancing back. "As much as I wish I could blame it all on her... I know this isn't because of some spell." He stood up and turned to pour another glass for Sam, sensing he needed some as well. "Though, it's too bad." He held out the drink, a peace offering of sorts, to the younger Winchester. "No reason to be scared if it ain't real, right?"

Sam eyed the glass a moment, then took the peace offering. "I guess," he admitted, taking a gulp of the alcohol. "I don't even know how it happened. I have been careful to keep just enough distance, y'know?" He sighed, shaking his head as he set the glass down. "How'd you handle it when you realized how you really felt about Ry?"

It took him a moment, but before long Sam took the glass from Dean, seeming to stow the riled up anger for now. Dean took that opportunity to pull up a chair next to him, ready to be the older big brother and actually listen to what Sam had to say, despite their different feelings toward the matter.

"Mmh," he hummed, that said he did know, and nodded. Same thing had happened to him with Ry, only by the time he realized and tried to put up a wall, it was too late. He'd already let her in. At Sam's question, Dean focused back on the present. "Denial. Lots an' lots of denial. I don't think I was actually straight with myself until after you locked us in my room. An', well, it was far too late then." He gave Sam a look and non-committal shrug. "So, what are you gonna do?"

He listened to Dean and thought that it sounded all too familiar. Shaking his head, he took another swig of his drink. "What can I do? I let her in, and she ends up dead or worse. I don't let her in and probably the same happens, but she'll hate me because I pushed her away. Not sure which is the lesser of the two evils at this point." Of course, there was probably a middle ground that he wasn't seeing, but he was a Winchester and they had a bad habit of seeing things in black and white with very little gray.

Dean smirked slightly to himself. Not because Sam's dilemma was funny, but because his mindset practically matched his when he had been faced with the same choice. Though, really, he could barely call it a choice. There was no saying goodbye when his body craved that woman like nothing else. "You're thinkin' too much," Dean pointed out. "Trust me. You're just gonna go 'round in circles like that." Or think about doing one thing and then do the exact opposite, just like he had. "But since you only think you love her-- it's not too late t'make a choice. But you're gonna hafta make it soon, or it'll be decided for ya."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed. He wasn't about to admit that he more than thought he loved Kassie. Admitting anything to Dean had been a gamble. Having his brother not yelling at him or telling him he was stupid was a miracle he didn't want to risk losing hold of. So, instead, he drank his alcohol and stared thoughtfully at the books they had just been going through. "How did we get here; both of us falling for a woman who seems made for us?"

As much as Dean would like to yell and judge Sam for falling for a witch, he knew from experience this type of thing wasn't so simple. Like Sam said, he didn't even know how it happened, just that it had, despite any efforts he made to ensure otherwise. That all definitely sounded familiar. There was just only so much resisting a guy could do. Especially when it came to attractive women.

The two brothers drank as they wallowed in the web they both had gotten caught in, wondering what they could've done more to avoid such a trap, or, really, if they had even tried to dodge in the first place. Apparently, they were both weak in this sense. Sam then asked out loud a question they were both thinking-- or at least, the first half of the question. "'Made for us'?" Dean asked, raising a brow at Sam's cheesy form of words. "Really?"

"Shut up," he grumbled. "You know what I mean. And you know I'm right, if not those exact words." Of course, there was so much more to their situations, and so many pieces to it all. But the basics were just that plain and simple. Ry was made for Dean, he was sure of it. And Kassie was the closest thing he had found to what he'd felt with Jess. That had to mean something.

Dean shook his head, for two reasons, but mostly because of the statement that had come out of Sam's mouth. "What I know is that you gotta watch something other than Lifetime movies, Man," he replied with a tease but kept a solemn tone, like he was actually worried about the effect it was having on him. "Seriously, it can't be good for what's left of your testosterone." He had joked before that Ry held more than Sam, and damn, if it didn't feel like that at times. But, after a moment, Dean regained some seriousness back. "You really think that? You an' a witch?"

"Let's forget, for one minute, that she was born a witch. Imagine she's just a regular, quirky, adorable, intelligent woman I got involved with. What would you think, then?" He wondered. He truly needed to know what Dean thought of Kassie as a person, barring her being a witch.

Sam asked him to forget that Kassie was a witch, so that he could focus on the other parts of her without any hindrance and honestly answer his follow up question. It was a tad difficult to do, separate her from what she was since he really didn't know much more about her, but he tried his best. "If she was just some normal, run-of-the-mill woman," Dean started, forcing himself to look past her fatal flaw. "Then... I would say mazel tov, ya know. As long as you were happy. 'Cause you do deserve to be with someone who makes you happy.--However small that someone may be." He paused before he sighed. "But, Sammy... That's not the case with her. She's not some Jane Doe." His tone was quiet but not harsh, just stating. "Even if her school-girl crush on you keeps her from physically hurting you... I have no way of knowing if she's doing something else to you. Or if she'll get over her feelings for you an'--" A thousand different scenarios past through his eye, each more disturbing than the last. He swallowed, refocusing on Sam. "I'm worried, Sam.--I mean, what if I can't get to you in time? Or what if I can't reverse what she does to you? What if--" What if I lose you?

He understood where his brother was coming from. He did, and he knew exactly why Dean had the concerns he did. Ruby. She’d come between them and Sam was so sure she was safe and that she loved him and wanted to help them. But Dean had been right all along. It was different this time, but Sam had no way to prove that to Dean. Hell, some days he wasn't sure he could prove that to himself. He just knew this time was different. "I know," he said quietly, giving a nod. His brow furrowed. "Dean, I don't know how to ensure any of that to you. And I know history makes you more cautious, but enough time has passed that-- that I'm asking you to trust me. And if, somehow, I come out of this wrong? You do what you need to and I won't stop you. But please, trust me-- if not her."

Dean's issue with Sam's newfound love interest wasn't just about Sam's disastrous romantic history,-- though, he did have to admit it played its part,-- but it mostly boiled down to the fact that she was what she was; a monster he was taught to hate and fear, toying with his brother's emotions whilst she threatened him just by being near. How was he supposed to look out for him when a witch held his heart? And while yes, he had come to accept not all supernatural-like creatures were evil, murderous beings that needed to be put down, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with Sam shacking up with one. The very idea just gave him constant anxiety, honestly terrified that this is what could punch his number. He knew he wasn't giving Sam enough credit, as he wasn't some amateur who had never actually faced the harsh reality of what goes bump in the night, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the thought of losing him again, even if that probability was slight in this instance.

Sam replied saying that he understood where he was coming from, no longer upset with him for hating on his girlfriend. The two of them were actually talking, listening, without tempers flaring. It felt kinda weird but good, definitely good.

Finally, Sam asked him to trust him, if not Kassie; to which Dean knew he couldn't deny that to him. He owed him that. He just had one condition. "If you're sure-- I mean, one-hundred percent sure-- that she doesn't pose a threat... Then I trust you," he complied solemnly, giving his word, before he lightened up slightly. "But if she so much as looks at you wrong, I will not hesitate. You're not going out by Sabrina. Okay? That's just... Too embarrassing. An' I won't stand for it."

He let his brother ramble on, less inclined to speak right now than he had been before. He wasn't stupid; he knew that Ruby was only part of this. But the idea that, after everything they had seen in their lives, Dean was still so close-minded about things really bothered him. He wanted to believe that his brother had been able to accept there were good monsters and more out there. Hell, there were several that they had let go because they were. And then there was Benny. But he figured it was best not to bring any of that up.

Dean was done talking, and Sam realized he hadn't heard all of it. He had caught the last of it, though, and was able to guess from there what had been said. "Yeah," he nodded. "I know. You need to trust me, though."

Dean nodded, physically conveying his agreement before he did the same verbally. "I do.--Just don't ask me to like her." He didn't have that in him quite yet, and he still didn't trust her specifically, but he would follow through on his word and give Sammy the trust he deserved.

Dean finished off his drink, dipping his head back to catch the last few drops before asking aloud a question he had floating around in his head. "How do you do it? I mean, with the height difference, ya gotta be well over a foot taller than she is, an' there really isn't much to her. Is she on top the whole time? For safety purposes?--Does anything weird happen during it? Like some kinky, binding spell or something? Or her suddenly tasting like candy corn...?" Now he was just reaching, but he was legitimately curious... And, well, he had to give his little brother some shit, as is his duty.

"No, I won't. You'll reach that point on your own, or you won't. Just-- please stop trying to imprison and kill her." He let the silence settle as he sipped his drink and went back to the page he was sure he had attempted to read seven times over. But the silence didn't last, soon punctured by a series of inquiries that had him wishing he had never said a word about his feelings for the woman.

"Wow. Okay, seriously, dude? How is that any of your business?" It was all he could think to respond with at the moment. Not that he would ever admit to Dean that that hadn't happened. And even if it had, he wouldn't divulge those details. Not so explicitly as Dean was insisting, at least.

Dean doubted that there even was an existing point where he would like the witch, let alone him ever actually reaching it, but he said nothing more on the matter. He couldn't help but make a small face at Sam's adjacent request, though. That would be the real challenge, wouldn't it, since his instincts told him to neutralize the threat every time he laid eyes on her. But his promise to Sam, to trust him, he supposed encapsulated that, and therefore would be followed through-- To a point, of course.

A brief silence had seeped over them before Dean spouted off some-- admittedly not-so-innocent-- questions; much to Sam's chagrin. But what else were big brothers for? Dean shrugged. "'S not," he acknowledged, "but can you blame me for being curious?" He cracked a small smirk with some raised brows before his face crinkled with slight disgust as he imagined another scenario. "Is there blood-play? Are maggots involved? She likes t'be choked, doesn't she?"

He blinked, not believing (but not entirely surprised at) the words coming out of his brother's mouth. "You're seriously disturbed. You know that, right?" He couldn't help the smirk and chuckle as he shook his head, wishing he didn't find what was said actually pretty funny.

"Oh, no, I know," Dean answered with a straight face, not denying the statement. "But, if ya think about it, who's really more disturbed? The guy who just asks the questions or the guy that likes getting all freaky? Huh?" He raised his brows as his smirk re-bloomed. "Next thing ya know is I'll be stumbling into some kind of sex dungeon the next time I come back from a hunt. Havin’ gone the full Fifty Shades..." He pursed his lips as his imagination swept him away for a moment before he joked, "...I might hafta move."

"There's so much wrong with this entire conversation." Sam claimed, wrinkling his nose. "I'm not opposed to you moving if you keep up with this," he added, waving his hand vaguely to indicate he had meant the current conversation. "You can visit Ry when I'm not here." A smirk, teasing. Potentially taunting.

The only thing wrong with this conversation was that Sam was holding out on him, instead of sharing his experience with the supernatural on a level Dean had only briefly experimented with. And only once had it been willingly. Unlike his brother...who seemed to openly seek out those extraordinary partners before falling head over heels for them. Of course, the normal girls he had also become entangled with hadn't worked out so well, either...but at least with those, the issues were one-sided. With a witch? Obstacles could and have come at them from all sides-- Dean's distrust being just one of them. But he'd try and back off, just like he said, and trust Sam. He'd need him to be there if or when things didn't work out, he just prayed that the only cleanup would be emotional.

Sam claimed he wouldn't fight him on moving if he didn't lay off and that he could visit Ry when he wasn't there. "Like I'd leave her in that kind of environment," Dean argued, giving Sam a small bitch face. "You'd probably have her roped in-- maybe even literally-- on some kinky roleplaying game before you an' the witch go off t'have even kinkier sex." He shook his head in mock disapproval. "You nasty sonavbitch, have you no shame?"

"Dean, seriously?" The scolding was lessened by the laugh he let out. "You are possibly the biggest ass I know," he admitted, shaking his head. "Can we just-- not have this conversation? I like having something to myself." Yeah, he knew he wasn't denying anything at this point, but it was a better option than pushing his brother further into his obsession with the current topic.

Dean was fully aware how ridiculous he was being, but his questions and imaginings had now become less about reality and more about teasing the hell out of his brother. And the fact that he had gotten him to laugh, and therefore loosen up, was just the whip cream on the pie. When Sam called him him an ass, he had to grin then. "Thank you," he chuckled, owning up to that title with a kind of pride that only made sense to asses like him. But then Sam asked if they could just stop this conversation, claiming that he liked having something private, causing Dean's expression to fall slightly but he was far from deterred. "We're brothers. Our something to ourselves is each other," he responded, but really, he wanted to see how red Sam would get over it. Plus, this topic was a whole lot lighter than most of what passed between them, and Dean was enjoying the freeing feeling of it. "Would it help if I told ya 'bout me an' Ry?"

Of course Dean didn't drop the subject. Sam fighting it was just fueling the older man's need to torture him. "Right. You're my brother and, honestly, I've seen and heard enough over the years to fill a lifetime so please don't tell me anything about you and Ry." He scrunched up his face at the very thought. "You can't seriously enjoy being an ass that much."

Dean chuckled again and then shrugged. "Your loss." Though, he knew that even without him telling, that what Sam had seen and heard over the years definitely included them specifically-- most likely enough to create an already fairly clear picture-- but those are the dangers one faces when all are living under one roof. He got up from his seat and retrieved the whiskey, bringing it over to the table; he poured himself another before offering Sam more. "I can an' do," he announced with a small grin when Sam accused otherwise on his stance of being an ass. "Life's more fun when you're not a stick in the mud. You should try it more often.--Might even help with your lady issues..."

Sam was shaking his head at that. "Nope, not a loss at all." He stated plainly, shuddering at the very thought. Though, probably a little more dramatic than was needed simply because it would elicit a reaction from his brother. He watched Dean pour himself some more whiskey before offering him some, as well. He nodded, glancing at his empty glass. He was tempted to tell him to fill it to the top, but he knew what that would get him from the hypocrite with the bottle. "I don't have--" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I like to practice a little restraint. You should try that sometime."

As Dean tipped the bottle into Sam's glass, after his nod of approval for more, Sam started to argue defensively that he didn't have lady issues, which caused his eyebrows to shoot up in challenge. Concluding from what he just told him-- yeah, that's exactly what he had. But instead of letting the remark fire him up, Sam chose to reevaluate his response, finally saying that he was practicing restraint. So, that's what he called it, huh? Dean shook his head slightly in disappointment until Sam lashed out his frustration by claiming that he should follow his lead. He blinked. "Why the Hell would I do that?" he asked incredulously. "Restraint gets you absolutely nowhere. 'Cept maybe frustrated beyond all reason. Like you obviously are. It's no wonder you're still on the fence." He shook his head again. "Nah, 'M good. Life's too damn short t'play it overly cautious. Especially our lives."

As he took a swig of the alcohol his brother responded in just the way he suspected. Of course. And yeah, Dean had a point. Their lives often didn't allow for taking things in a leisurely fashion. But Sam tried hard not to focus on that as much as Dean seemed to. He enjoyed having something as close to normal in his life as possible. So, instead of arguing, he gave a short nod of understanding and agreement. “Right,” he added. Another swig of his drink, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You know... I don't remember the last time we just sat around and talked like this. S'kind of nice.”

Unlike his brother, Sam appeared entirely done with their current subject of conversation and let it die with a simple agreeing 'right' and trailed off, drinking from his glass. But after a heavy sigh, Sam admitted it that their little bout of brother time was nice as he couldn't remember the last time they had had the chance. To be honest, Dean couldn't quite remember, either, when it had just been the two of them and it made him feel guilty he hadn't made any time for just them. Granted, it wasn't entirely his fault, as it wasn't like they were just sitting on their asses, twiddling their thumbs,--their lives were hectic to say the least, but he could've attempted more of an effort. "’M up for makin' a day of it, if you are," Dean replied, throwing up a crooked, half grin. "We could drive to a beach somewhere, leave our ol' ball an' chains at home; be just the two of us. Just like old times." He didn't really like the idea of leaving Ry on her own, considering everything, or taking a step back from the endless combing-through of research, but if he was being honest, he needed a break, too, before it snapped him in half. Besides, he wasn't sure if the two of them would get another chance to do so before things reached the point of no return for him and obviously he'd like to have some of whatever time he had left spent with his little brother.

#moment of truth #alwaysaweapon #adventures elsewhere #season 10 thread

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