D U S T [in the] W I N D

[Dean Winchester]

`` Heaven's gates won't open up for me
With these broken wings I'm fallin' . . .

The Impala idled at the curb of the library sans radio at the moment and that was oddity enough. Dean could practically feel the weight of the sword behind his seat . . . and knew that the time to tell his brother the truth had come. He could not hide it from Sam anymore because his brother was already getting suspicious of all the outings and disappearances . . . and it had only been two days. Dean knew that he could not keep up the pretense with his too-smart younger brother for much longer and honestly . . . he didn't want to. He wanted to protect Sammy, keep him safe, but he didn't want to lie to his brother anymore. There had been too many secrets, too many lies since he had been dragged back from Hell and now it was time to lay two of them on his brother's shoulders and hope that Sam could carry the weight like Dean was doing . . . and failing. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he thought of only an hour ago in the dojo with Duncan, on his knees and falling apart like a glass man hit by an iron rod. And that was how he felt at the moment. Hollowed out and brittle, as though a chance wind might break him into a million pieces because he could not get the guilt out of his mind . . . How could he have been so weak? John Winchester had done better than him -- and he was his son. And he had failed everything that his father had ever stood for, everything that he had ever been taught to stand for . . . all because it had hurt too much to go on.

Dean looked over as the Impala door creaked open and the lanky form of his brother climbed in, folding his legs to take his usual place in the passenger seat. He set the laptop carrying case in the back seat and Dean wondered if he would notice the sword or even think that it was odd considering how many different weapons the Impala's trunk carried. Dean would not have been shocked to find a canon in the backseat, honestly. For a moment Dean said nothing, knowing that Sam had been researching ways to track down Lilith -- against Dean's better judgment and wishes. That was not a fight that he wanted to run headlong into but Sam was gung ho to get it over with and go right at it. What in the world made his baby brother think that they could win a fight like that was beyond him . . . and Dean knew that Sam was not caring and sharing all that there was to tell, either. That was fine. If one of them had to be the first to break the proverbial ice of secrets, it was going to be him. Dean put the Impala in gear and pulled away from the curb, heading away from the motel room that they were sharing at the moment -- thinking at this rate they might as well rent a more permanent fixture to live in. They were going to be stuck in this town for awhile . . . and that was new, too.

"Find anything useful?" Dean finally asked, his eyes on the road ahead as he tried to figure out how best to lay this on his brother. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, Dean kept a fixed gaze on the passing pavement as he guided the Impala in a general out of town direction, not sure where he was going but not really caring, either. "Look, Sammy . . . There's some stuff I haven't been sharing with you and I think it's about time that we stopped hiding so damn much from each other. Dunno when the hell the secrets thing started but . . ." Dean stopped and swallowed, uncertain how to continue, not sure how to tell his brother what a failure he was and that he could not die. Now that was a doozy . . . and one that Sam would likely not believe right away. His brother was open-minded enough but Dean had a feeling that something like this was going to take a bit of show and tell. And that was something that he was not looking forward to in the slightest . . .

[Sam Winchester]

Research... Some way or another, it had always crept into his life and taken hold. Now, as he sat inside some old library, surrounded by books that most people would shun and a few sketches that many would cringe from, he poured himself into every page, knowing that his brother was waiting for him, just outside. His brother... His brother that had sold his soul so that Sam could live, and then be raised from Hell by the hands of an Angel. His brother... that disappeared too often and never had a reason. His brother... that was hiding something. But could he really say anything when he was hiding secrets of his own that would surely make Dean curse a blue streak through the whole damn town?

As he folded the papers in half, then tucked them away in the book, Sam slid the worn leather bindings into the bag at his feet, then with a nod to the old librarian, he dashed out into the night and slipped easily into the passenger seat of the rumbling Impala. He frowned slightly to hear the silence inside. No Metallica, No AC/DC. And then there was that dark look in his brother's eyes, the rounded set of his shoulders. Sam raised one brow, then turned to lay the bag in the backseat, but not before noticing the sheathed sword behind Dean's seat.

Turning back to Dean, he shook his head slightly, forcing too long locks out of his eyes. "Nothin' yet... A few leads, not too solid," Sam offered with a one-shouldered shrug, glancing out the front windshield of the Impala as the headlights sliced through the night. He blew out a short breath, but stopped himself short when Dean started talking in that tone that told Sam this was going to be a long night. He looked sidelong at his brother, then slowly nodding, lips pressing together as his jaw clenched. His hand resting on the door of the Impala tensed slightly, fingers curling into a fist. For too long, they had went on their separate ways, pretending that everything was the same, that they were fine... Sam knew that it would have to come to a head sooner or later. Sooner was better... Later was what he had been hoping for.

"Me neither..." Sam offered, shaking his head slightly before he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Once upon a time, Dean was the one that dreaded their heart-to-hearts, but now, Sam knew he had become just as hardened as his brother used to be. Now, Dean was the one with a new lease on life, and Sam... Well, he had his own demons to slay. Quite literally. "I'm guessin' you've got somethin' you wanna say then?" Sam prodded, knowing that even if Dean spilled his guts, he couldn't tell him what he was doing, what Ruby did for him... Drinking demon's blood to ready himself? Dean would never understand that, would never accept it, and he sure as hell wouldn't condone it. So, Sam sat back and waited for whatever it was that was making his brother look like he had swallowed hot coal. Truth be told, Dean was looking that way more than a few times these days, when he was around, that is.

[Dean Winchester]

This was not the way that things were supposed to be . . . Of course, nothing had gone the way that Dean imagined it should because in Dean's perfect world, he and Sam would have found their father and Sammy would have either stayed hunting with them or gone back to college but stayed in touch. And his father would still be alive and kicking, hunting evil down, and Dean would never have been ripped apart by Hellhounds and Sammy would have never been stabbed in the back by some crazy special kid. But this was not a perfect world and Dean had come to understand that the more he yearned for normal, the worse things seemed to get . . . And now he was stuck facing eternity with only Duncan's promise that he would kill him when Sam died making things any easier on him. Dean searched the night with his hazel orbs, seeing no other vehicles or lights, the country washing out around them and then a forest starting easily enough.

He did not want his Watcher watching any part of this.

When he was certain that they were alone on the highway, Dean pulled the Impala to the shoulder and let the engine idle. Yes, he had something he wanted to say . . . He wanted to tell Sam to pack his shit because they were leaving the States. He wanted to tell Sammy that he was sorry that he had dragged his ass into this mess four years ago . . . He wanted to tell Sam a lot of things but nothing that he wanted to say came out of his mouth. "There isn't any easy way to put this, Sammy." Dean finally did say, his hands reaching up to rake back through shorn locks of hair. For awhile words failed him. For a minute silence ticked inside the Impala and Dean finally gritted his teeth. "I found out something a coupla days ago, Sam. I . . . I can't die. Not unless someone . . . cuts off my head." Dean swallowed, hating the words, turning to look his brother in the eye after a moment, his own eyes burning in the dark.

He knew how insane it sounded and after a moment of silence, Dean shoved the driver's side door open and got out, heavy boots thunking on the glittering pavement. He slammed the door shut and moved to the front of the Impala, his frame awash in the glaring headlights that he had not turned off because the engine was still idling. He still had the urge to scream into the night building up in his chest and for a moment he wondered if he should not go back and get the damned katana behind his driver's seat but he could not bear to put that thing back in his hand right then. It was all too crazy. Too insane and Dean could not keep up with it and Sammy had to know and believe him because . . . because Dean could not do this alone. Because Dean needed Sam to remind him why they were hunting to begin with, why they didn't just turn and run from all of this . . .he needed to remember that he was a Winchester and . . .

[Sam Winchester]

Even looking back, Sam couldn't really see any other way that this could have turned out... Given the chance again, he knew he'd make the same damn decisions time and time again. There were no second chances or maybes... not anymore. Where he found himself was exactly where he was supposed to be... or so he thought. He once believed so religiously in Fate and circumstance, but over the years, he slowly began to realize that there was no such thing... There were only decisions to be made and regrets to be had... No more, no less. Every day, he did something he would regret, and every night, he wondered when it might stop... The echoing answer? Never.

As Dean broke the silence, finally starting to say what was on his mind. Sam slowly turned a stormy gaze to his brother, his own secrets locked behind dark orbs as his brows furrowed in confusion, in disbelief. Since Dean had come back from Hell, it had been one thing after another, and his brother... always the one to find a joke, even in a dead calm silence. Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head before he looked out the window again. "Right, Dean... You're Immortal. And I'm Dr. Frankenstein..." he said, dismissively as he laughed again, but then Dean was pulling the car over, getting out, and... Sam noticed all too easily that this... was serious.

As the Impala idled on the roadside, Sam slowly reached over and switched off the ignition. Pocketing the keys, he got out of the car as Dean's words circled around in his mind. Eyes narrowed as he pushed his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the front of the car, beside his brother, and slowly turned to glance at Dean, catching his profile in the fading light. Swallowing hard, Sam raked a hand back through his hair, then let out a short breath. "You're serious?" he asked, his voice quiet, as he looked away, trying to process it all, to understand. Immortal? Couldn't die? Sam shook his head slightly before his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared with the deep intake of breath. "Dean..." But words were lost. How could he even begin to believe such a thing? Immortals? The only Immortals that he knew were evil... at least in part. Just another scattered line and a shade of gray...

[Dean Winchester]

Dean had known from the beginning that this was going to be a hard pill for Sam to swallow. And he had known from the beginning that telling his baby brother the truth was the last damn thing that he wanted to do . . . It was not that Sam would not come around to believing him, it was that everything was changing again and hadn't Sam always been the different one? And now it was Dean that was different and . . . Dean swore under his breath as he moved to the front of the car, his booted foot savagely kicking a rock laying idle on the road. It went skittering across black pavement to disappear into the brush at the side of the road, giving Dean nothing to kick but his own ass. It had been hard enough for him to believe, he knew, but Sam?

Dean turned his gaze to Sam as his younger brother climbed from the vehicle, finally realizing that Dean was not joking around for the moment. Maybe not ever again because Dean certainly felt like there was nothing left worth laughing about . . . "Yeah, Sammy, I'm serious." Was all he offered before he turned his gaze away from his brother and back out over the darkened highway. He was hoping that he would not have to prove it to his brother and in lieu of that, Dean took in a breath before rounding back around to face Sammy. "It's crazy, believe me, I know. This woman . . . she was getting attacked in a back alley by some crazy guy with a sword . . . her name is Danae. Anyway, really long story short -- I got in the fight and cut off his damned head like she told me to. And all of the sudden this freak lightning storm happened and I felt . . . like I was getting ripped apart." Dean faltered there, taking in a breath before shaking his head and passing a hand over the lower half of his face.

"She dragged me to this guy -- Duncan. And then they told me that I'm Immortal now . . . and I can't die . . . until someone cuts off my head because, apparently, there are Immortals all over the place and they're all involved in this giant game . . . fuck it, Sam, the game doesn't matter. I didn't believe them. Not until Duncan shoved a sword through my heart and I popped back up like a goddamn daisy." Dean's eyes flashed at the memory, his gaze going back to his brother's face after a moment. He paused then, letting it all sink in for a moment, wondering if he was going to have to prove it to his younger brother before he'd believe or if Sam would swallow this whole mess better than he had.

[Sam Winchester]

It sounded insane, but when in their life did every word out of their mouths not discount their sanity? Sam looked down at the ground for some time, kicking at a rock with the toe of his boot as Dean spoke... He knew his brother was looking at him, but then, he couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't believed his ears. Vampires, werewolves... Bloody Mary. Those things he could believe, but that his brother would never die? That he would never age a day? Sam shook his head slightly, tearing a hand back through his hair before finally raising his gaze and slowly turning his head to meet Dean's eyes.

His brother had no way with words and generally lacked tact completely, but what he needed to say, what Sam needed to know, was always in Dean's eyes when he dropped the damned guard for one whole minute. When Sam looked at him, it was easy to see. But had he become the hardened hunter now? Sam looked away again, blowing out a sharp breath before he pressed his lips together, jaw clenching with unexpressed emotion as he gave a slow nod. "Alright... I get it, Dean. I get it..." he said, but he didn't want to believe it, didn't want to know...

Dean would live forever... "What the hell, Dean? Why this? Why now? So you can't die... So we fight the demons, we fight Lilith, the world might still end, and what then?..." But before he could say the rest of the rant that wanted to come out then, he stopped, looking at his brother again. This wasn't some special moment, some planning of the future. It was his brother, and for once, Dean needed Sam. The younger brother drew in a long breath and shut his eyes, then finally, finally, something broke. No dramatic breakthrough, but he nodded again, and finally, storm green eyes met hazel orbs and he smiled slightly. "So what do we do now, Dean?"

He didn't have to see his brother die to believe it... And he had seen Dean die enough. If nothing else, Sam would never have to live through that nightmare again. He'd never have to burn his brother's body, or bury him in the ground. He'd never have to face a day without him, or a life of loneliness because the one constant in his life was gone. He'd never have that bitter anger, but Dean... had to face an eternity. Maybe it was a blessing, or a curse, or like so many things in their lives-- maybe it was both. "I guess we should invest in a helmet..."With his brother already fighting just to say the words, Sam couldn't see much reason to dwell on it. Not now... Not when he was hiding so much too.

[Dean Winchester]

The only person in the world that he had told about what happened down in Hell was Sam . . . until he had told Duncan the truth earlier. The words still twisted his gut every time he thought of them, still made him sick inside to think about. The things he had done down there to those people . . . He knew that he was being his own worst enemy right then, beating himself up for breaking in a place where any man would have broken . . . But Dean had always operated off the belief that he was not just any man and that his father had made him stronger than that. John Winchester had held out against the pain and torture . . . but his son could not. And in the end, no matter which way anyone spun the cookie, it made Dean feel like he had failed.

Dean sank back against the hood of the Impala as Sam processed everything that he had just told him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket as the temperature dropped. And he was still not done laying it on his brother . . . Dean sighed, turning his head to the side to regard his brother as Sam started to rant then stopped himself. Dean could only shake his head and shrug helplessly. What did they do now? "I dunno, Sammy. Wish I did." And to Sam's last words the only thing that Dean could do was laugh without much humor, although the oddity in the statement still struck him and he reached over, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder because right then he didn't need the hardened hunter that his brother had become -- he just needed Sam. It was a switch and Dean knew that, and he knew that he was fighting to get himself back, to find the man that he had been even if that man might be lost forever. But he didn't think so. He knew that he would have to step into the shoes, er, boots, that he had left behind when he had been dragged to Hell because the man that he was right now could not fight this war or hope to win it.

"There's one more thing, Sam." Dean finally said, and this time around his voice was calmer because he had already let loose most of the emotion when he had told Ruby and then Duncan . . . Going through it twice had purged most of it from him and he was able to face the truth this time with a little bit more dignity on his side. "Castiel told me something . . . Ever wonder how the first seal broke?" Dean looked sidelong at his brother, pain still in his eyes but not tears -- not this time. He steeled his shoulders and blew out a breath. "The angels were tryin' to pull me outta hell before it happened but they were too late . . .Cass told me that the first seal broke when a righteous man spilled blood in Hell. As he broke, so, too, did it break." Dean quoted, his voice shaking.

"Dad was down there, Sammy. And they did the same thing to him that they did to me, tryin' to get him to break the first seal . . . but Dad held out and me? Not so much. It's my fault, Sam. This whole damn thing is my fault." He reached up, brushing his hand across the lower half of his jaw, turning to look at his brother in the fading light on the road. Anything else he might have said got stuck in his throat because Sam knew him best, even if there were secrets between them, Sam still knew him and Dean knew that he didn't really have to say what he was thinking at the moment. Sammy would read it in his eyes since Dean was not trying to hide it and if anyone would understand how Dean felt like he had failed there father and everything he was, it was Sam.

[Sam Winchester]

No answers... No game plan. It really didn't surprise him anymore, if only because it seemed like they only got the answers they needed in the nick of time, just before the building blew or the ghost caused holy hell or the demons won... Right before they needed the answers, but some part of Sam was even wondering if that would be the case this time around. So many close calls and near misses, and they never got a damn break... But this time, they would have an upper hand. Sam's own secrets danced in his eyes, and he knew that Dean would never approve, would never see it his way. He needed strength, power, and he needed it all to beat Lilith and stop the madness... Needed it. Wanted it... Slowly, all the lines were starting to blur.

All his life, his brother had been right there, and even in the most hopeless times, Sam knew his brother, inside and out. After John's death, he knew that Dean was dying inside... After Madison, he knew that Dean wished the guilt was his. When the angels made their appearance, Dean had did his best to deny it, but in the end, he had believed-- just like Sam knew he would. Now, as he faced his brother, he felt as though he were looking through a stranger's eyes. He still knew the man inside and out, but in the months that Dean was gone, Sam had changed and never had they really gotten back to where they had once been.

Still, when Dean's hand fell to his shoulder, a spark of the brother and not the hunter came alive inside. Sam reached up, an arm crossing over his chest as he laid his hand over Dean's own. Storm green eyes turned slowly, seeking his brother's hazel orbs, knowing that nothing he said could change the truth, that in that moment, his brother needed him like he had so few times in his life. "Something else... And the hits just keep coming, right?" he asked, even as his brother laughed, but there was no humor in Sam's voice. Just the simple truth... One damn thing after another. Another midnight drive. Another sleepless night. Another secret. Another lie.

But this... Sam stared at Dean, even after the silence had faded into the darkness that blanketed them on the deserted roadside. Dean... had broken the seal, in Hell, that set the ball rolling for Lilith and... then the angels had pulled him out, after the damage had already been done? Sam looked away, his mind working as his jaw clenched and unclenched with each passing moment. The silence stretched on until finally, he gripped Dean's hand, then turned, his already stormy eyes darkening as a look of pain crossed his face. The blame... He knew how Dean would hold onto it and carry it, and in the part of him that was the man, the brother, and not the hardened hunter that life without Dean had forced him to become, he hurt, the pain slicing straight to his heart. His throat worked with unspent emotion before he stood, clasping his brother on the shoulder.

Shaking his head, dark hair falling into his even darker eyes, Sam whispered, hoarsely. "Doesn't matter, Dean... You didn't know... Not your... No. Not your fault." Sam wouldn't believe it, couldn't believe it. There was no other way. "If it hadn't been you, you wouldn't be here now. It wouldn't have mattered... If it hadn't been you, it'd be someone else. No. Break all the goddamn seals if that means you'll be here and not there... I don't care." Sam shook his head adamantly, now standing in front of his brother, both hands weighted on Dean's shoulders. "It won't end here, and it won't end like this. You opened the seal...and by God or the Devil... whoever the hell it is, we'll close it and we'll stop it. I don't care..." And in that moment, something else broke through. It didn't matter if it was heaven or hell that rained down, because Sam knew in that moment that he needed Dean as much as he always had... No matter what.

[Dean Winchester]

Even amid his own guilt and confusion, Dean could wonder about one thing. He could wonder what had happened to his baby brother in the time that he had been gone. Because the Sam Winchester that he had come back to was more hardened then the Sam he had left behind, was far more of the hunter then he had ever been and while he still hesitated over killing and mulled over the fine line between right and wrong, he was still not the hopeful college student that had never wanted this life in the first place. And Dean wondered . . . because he had never told Sam one other thing and Dean had to wonder if Sam knew, would it bring him back? Make a difference?

He had told Sam about his little trip through time, that their mother had been from a family of hunters and how the entire deal had come to pass. That the Yellow Eyed Demon had killed a young John Winchester to force Mary into a deal to bring him back . . . But he had not told Sam that Mary Winchester had wanted a normal life. He had not told his brother how desperately their mother had wanted out, how very much like her that Sam was . . . but not Dean wondered if telling his brother would make a difference in Sam. Because Sam had been forced to step up his game and fill two pairs of boots with Dean's death and it did not seem like the hardcore hunter in him was going to recede anytime soon . . . And if it didn't, Dean knew that he would work with that, too. Because at the end of the day, Sammy was still his baby brother and Dean still had to look after him.

Dean looked up sharply as Sam spoke, taking in what he had been told before his hands landed on Dean's shoulders. Hazel eyes met storm green and for long moments Dean said nothing. But there was fierce determination in Sam's eyes and something else . . . it was only his brother looking back at him. Not the hunter. Just Sam. Dean studied his brother for quite awhile before he cleared his throat, bringing up one hand to pat Sam's hand on his shoulder. He could not die but so long as he was alive he could ensure that nothing bad happened to Sammy . . . and that was worth fighting for. Dean clenched his jaw, a spark taking his hazel eyes that had not been there before. He still felt broken and tired but he thought now, now he could find a way to get back to how things had been . . . "Yeah, alright. You're right . . . But I swear to God if you try and hug me . . ." Dean laughed for a moment, then forgot that he was supposed to be the manly hunter and did it anyway, jerking his brother into a hug that had only been shared when Dean had first come back from Hell.