Day 29: Courtyard

[deathbymidget.livejournal.com]

Hiei easily grew sick of the same walls--not to mention the same idiots always within those walls--and while not perfect, the chance to go outside was better than lingering in the boundaries of that damned prison. So when the chance came, the demon was quick to leap on it, heading outside almost quick enough to make a nurse wonder if he was attempting escape.

Almost.

But there were things Hiei had to take care of before he left this place, and first came sorting through his thoughts. Kurama was gone; the demon was sure of it, even without the use of his Jagan. The fox was one of the people Hiei was closest to, one of the few Hiei would admit being close to, and his presence weighed heavily on the demon, nearly as heavy as his absence.

It made him angry, that Kurama had vanished. Be it by escape or some other circumstance (which Hiei barely considered possible, only by his own refusal), the fox should be there with him, fighting with him. That was how they worked, supposedly. As a team.

Now Hiei would have to do without. And he would be fine with that, eventually. For now it was annoying, but that would pass. Perhaps quicker with a nap, and the demon moved under one of the trees. He didn't care that it was colder in the shade; his contrasting origins mixed with his stubbornness kept the weather from bothering him too much. Closing his eyes, he relaxed against the bark, as much as he could given the circumstances, and hoped for a lack of bothering.

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[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

Sam's gaze focused firmly on Dean with remarkable swiftness. While there was still a faint air of abstraction about him, it was little different than that which he possessed while they were chasing down one or another of the more peculiar leads on a hunt.

He regarded Dean a touch warily, taking in the older man's pallor and stiffness and belated greeting all. Seeing the other hunter shaken never boded well, and he doubted somehow that this place would provide a departure from that pattern. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly in concern that he half-expected to start yet another argument before it was even voiced.

Even after several days, it wasn't easy for Sam to bear in mind that his brother wouldn't recall the events leading to those arguments, let alone the fights themselves.

"What's up?" he asked, a brief pause between the words suggesting that was not quite the question he'd initially intend to voice, but rather some compromise.

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

The stunned façade faded as he began to hear the cries of bullheaded pride again, the transformation gradual and measured. He bit his lip, turning to the side as his fingers flexed uneasily. By the slow change in stance – muscles now relaxed and jaw firmly set in determination – it was apparent something had dawned on the man.

This wasn't Sam. Well, it was, but... this one had clearly moved on, hardened by loss and bereavement. He knew his brother better than anybody, and it was pretty damn obvious when unspoken truths were floating around his work partner's head. Sam's behavior seemed persistent in following a blueprint Dean'd never be able to comprehend, whether it was due to a lack of insight into those memories lost, or possibly thanks to the fact a chunk of time and the events it carried currently separated them, putting a damper smack bang in the middle of the weird kind of harmony - that teamwork dynamic - that would propel them along during hunts.

He glanced back at his brother, expression no longer fickle and thoughts arranged in a resolute manner. Perhaps the one thing advertising internal distress were his eyes, unblinking and flashing strangely as they fixed on the younger man.

"Sam..." Nope, his tone didn't exactly match the strong face. He looked down for a moment, head tilting up once he'd managed to put the finishing touches on the sturdy ground he'd established, this unwavering objective to remain fearless, "be brave" and "set an example for your brother, Dean" always topping the list of priorities.

He gave a nod.

"I'm proud o' you."

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

There were things his brother could have said that would have put Sam more on edge, certainly. There weren't many that came to mind at the moment, however. The younger hunter's eyes narrowed a little, attention snapping into that odd, pinpoint focus that occasionally reared it's head.

"Dean..." The unease in Sam's tone was too familiar to him for his liking, and despite - or perhaps because of - that, proved further reminder of the gulf that existed between them, either in time or memory. "Dean, what's goin' on?"

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

"I've been a dick to you, man." He nodded a second time, his shoulders hitching with a tight laugh and pretending he'd missed the question by raising his voice a notch. "No benefit o' the doubt, nothin'. Haven't been hearin' a word you've said, but you kept with it, y'know? Kept with what's important. Gettin' outta here, it..." The smile forced upon his lips then vanished. "And me? I've been distracted, lettin' it all..." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, with Dad gone, there's nothin' for it. We gotta save these people already."

He shifted about without warning, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he scrutinised the outer wall of the courtyard.

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

Shit. For all that he bit back the curse, its presence was evident enough in Sam's expression, the sudden tension in his shoulders. Oh, this was familiar, all right, and he cursed himself now for ever wishing, even idly, that Dean would somehow remember what had happened.

He set his jaw, the lines of his face fixing into the belligerent mask that marked him as a Winchester. Who else could possibly be so doggedly, stupidly persistent? He swallowed down the faint, creeping sense of dread slithering up his throat, trying to constrict voice and breathing. Consequences be damned, he was not backing down.

"Dean, you're not--" Sam cut himself off abruptly enough that his teeth clicked together before trying again. "What happened?"

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

"Listen, Sam!" He snapped in response, throwing a sidelong glare at the younger man and speaking now through his own clenched teeth. "We gotta stop this! We can't afford to dwell on the past- or future, or whatever the hell!" He shook his head, focus returning to the perimeter, a deep breath ensuring he didn't lose his cool right there.

"Look, just forget it, OK?" He settled both hands on his hips as he spun around to face Sam. Though his tenor did seem to be faltering, he - much like the hunter opposite him - refused to crumble and have his side of the argument caving in on him.

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

"So, what, we're just supposed to pretend that this is just another hunt?" Sam replied, voice pitched low to keep the discussion from carrying too far. Frustration made his tone harsh, though it was worry that carved itself into his features, darkening his eyes. "Whatever's going on here, it's got to be all tied together. We can't just ignore pieces."

There was a moment's pause before Sam relented - enough, at least, to ask, "Besides, you have any idea yet how we're going to save these people?"

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

"That's right." His defiant stare traveled those few inches upward at Sam. "That way we might actually get things done -!" He took a step closer for further emphasis, both arms raised at either side of him. "- 'Stead of bitchin' over somethin' that, from where I'm standing? May not've even happened!" For what it was worth, that piece of insight into Dean's state of mind hadn't escaped deliberately. And he was pretty sure they hadn't in fact spoken much about it. The insinuation of 'I'm better than you' just seemed to be there all the freakin' time and it was driving him up the wall. "I didn't ask for this," he finished in a voice matching that which Sam had taken on, glare unwavering.

The pause and question to follow didn't ease the tension any, though it gave him some time to pace and revive his thoughts from this morning.

"Ain't as easy as that," he replied in the same intense growl as before, a calm demeanor accompanying it this time. "Got the note or d'you lose it?" He looked away, double-checking in suspicion of eavesdroppers as he asked, a hand shooting out expectantly.

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

"You think I did?" Sam replied. It was his turn to look away this time, hands clenching and unclenching reflexively. "Dad's dead, the demon has the Colt, and I'm the only one who remembers any of it. Hell, I almost wish I could believe it was all in my head."

He shook his head, visibly swallowing back anything further. "Never mind. You're right. It doesn't matter. And yeah, I've still got it." He palmed the slip of paper to pass it over, adding after a moment's hesitation, "I've got an idea, too. Just don't know if it'll work."

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

"The Demon what?!" For a second, he sounded slightly asphyxiated, his voice ascending an octave and eyebrows flying heavenward, the message in Sam's hand forgotten in an instant. "You gotta be kiddin' me! Wh- dude, talk to me!" He swatted Sam's shoulder, alarm flooding his expression as he gulped and cursed at his quaking pitch. In retrospect, the tough guy act had been a complete waste. He blinked furiously. "How the hell did that happen?!"

The accident? Had it swiped the Colt while they were out of commission?

[neverreallyfit.livejournal.com]

Sam, still not quite willing to face his brother head-on, grimaced slightly before replying, "In the hospital, after the accident. It got to dad - killed him, took the Colt. By the time we found him, it was too late. We've been trying to figure out a plan B ever since."

As explanations of what had come to pass went, it was scant - and heavily censored. He was torn still between continuing, out of some sense that he owed Dean the truth, and keeping silent.