WHO: Dean Winchester, Claire Bennet (future); briefly, John Winchester WHERE: random hotel, the room next to the one for Sam WHEN: Sunday, January 29, 2006; early a.m. following the Pits scene hours before WHAT: The 'after' following the pits RATING: TBD STATUS: part-log, part-thread; in-progress
Shifting the bags in her hand, Claire slid the key out of her pocket and opened the door to the room next to where Sam was restrained. After paying extra for the request that no one be in the rooms on either side of Sam's, it had made sense to use one for those who weren't right in the room with Sam. People wanted to be here at the hotel for Sam, some of them would be here the duration and some wanted to stop and get updates in person, so all that coming and going was safer relegated to a separate room. It left people the option of shifts, though Claire knew that Heather likely wouldn't leave Sam's sight unless it got really bad.
For those here for the duration, including Sam (though food for him had to be slightly more creative), she'd gone out for a short while to get meals for them. There was take out as well as things to go in this kitchenette fridge and small cupboards that could be snacked on or easily prepared, but Claire knew the real task was getting food into most of them. She needed to be doing something, and short of getting between Sam and someone who would get hurt, healing anyone who did possibly get hurt and being moral support, there wasn't much to do but try to be useful.
"You guys hungry?" she asked, closing the door behind her with her foot.
Three days. Three goddamned days was all Sam had waited before jumping in and even now, the thought made John's blood boil. For all Sam's talk about doing the research and seeing how things went, three days was a crazy man's move. Or just the move of someone who had always been impatient, always wanted the answers and solutions now and God help anyone who told him otherwise.
Breaking off the hostile thoughts, thoughts based more in anger and helplessness than anything else, he looked up, quieting to listen to the sounds from the other room. He knew what even temporary insanity and violence meant, it meant that Sam would say and do things he didn't mean. Maybe even a few he did. Given his current level of anger with his son and Sam's constant implications, every time things weren't going right, that John failed him, John'd thought it wise to spend most of his time here, going next door to check regularly, but not lingering.
"Sounds pretty quiet," he said to Dean, rubbing his face as he looked over at his son.
When the door opened before Dean could respond, and Claire appeared, the set of John's face deepened into something anyone who knew him would recognize - classic John Winchester disappointment in another individual. These rooms, they'd been paid for long before Sam had posted to the boards and jumped in - it hadn't taken much to find out that information - which meant the list of accomplices to Sam's foolhardy move was now to three. Angry and disappointed, John had chosen the only solution he could see to avoid arguments and then later recriminations for angry words said - to just not talk to those who'd known Sam had decided and was acting on it, known and kept it hidden.
"Heading out to check on your mom and Ben," he said, getting up from the end of the bed and exiting after grabbing his jacket, not another word said.
Truth be told, Dean was pretty much in a daze. Though Claire had warned him earlier in the day that Sam was probably going to try to dip himself in the Pits soon, Dean didn't think soon was in a matter of hours. He thought Sam would take more time to think it out, that there would be time to come up with another great plan like the one that had kept Claire from stabbing herself for the virgin sacrifice thing...he thought something miraculous would happen in the meantime to keep Sam safe and normal--well as normal as his kid brother ever had been. Didn't he know better? Wasn't the family constantly in enough danger without adding another string binding them to God knows who?
Though he spent his fair share of time in the other room, he knew Heather was trying her damnedest to get through to Sam, and as Sam's future wife, she deserved the chance to do it. Besides, if he was being honest, there was only so much he could take of seeing his brother like that. Sam was supposed to be logical and analytical and smart, not a freaking psycho. Instead, Dean was waiting in the room next door, staring at the wall.
Dean looked up when John spoke. Although he was too deep in thought to catch the words, he nodded, figuring it was just one of those quiet observations that people said when there was nothing left to say. What could they say? Somehow they had failed, and despite everyone having the warning signs of Sam being way too damned interested in this--and Dean having the forewarning of Claire mentioning it would happen 'soon,' no one had dared to consider it would be that soon.
Claire came in, and after a look that Dean knew all too well, John was gone. Sighing, Dean reached for the remote, unsure of whether he should stay here in this limbo of staying in the hotel room, or if he should follow his Dad and go home and see how his Mom and son were handling all of this. He was tugged in two different directions, between duty to Sam and duty to his new family here, between guilt and pushing through all of the negative emotions to do what was necessary.
"Well this pretty much sucks."
While she hadn't imagined that her complicity would be any sort of secret for long, Claire still winced visibly at that look from John Winchester. Fathers had a way with disappointed looks that cut right to the quick and that look definitely did. She'd had her reasons for what she'd done, offering to be there for Sam because he was her friend, because she had understood and agreed that it was his choice, and with the side hope that he'd listen to her and, instead of not telling anyone until it was all over, he'd tell them before he went in. He had done the latter, which meant everyone could be here now for him, to help him through this, and Sam knew she supported him, which meant she'd succeeded at what she'd tried to do.
But that look from John made her feel like she'd failed hugely.
When Dean spoke, she looked up. "Yeah," she said quietly as she set down the bag with the chicken and sides near Dean, hoping he'd eat willingly but ready to push if necessary, because Dean not eating ranked up on her top five list of most unsettling things ever. After she had, she took the rest of the bags to the kitchen.
"Would it do any good if I explained to him why I did it?" she asked after a few silent moments, opening the refrigerator to slide soda, beer and other beverages inside, including caffeine-free things for Heather. She'd explained to Dean what she'd done, in the time between talking to Sam and Sam going to the pits, and even though he'd lectured her at length about the possible consequences of Sam doing it, he hadn't been angry at her for supporting Sam's right to make his own choice. Maybe explaining it again would be enough?
Dean saw the chicken and sides, and at any other time he'd tear through the paper wrappings like a child at Christmas, but not today. Today he sat the bag on the table and ignored it, because his mind was too full to focus on eating. His brother was a raving maniac the next room over, after all.
"Maybe." He said quietly, getting up to go pace. "Maybe not." Maybe he'll add me to the list of people he's disappointed in, because I knew the threat was coming, but God damn it, I never thought that Sammy was going to be stupid enough to do something after just three days. "Dad's just like that sometimes, Claire, but he'll come around."
After all, his Dad couldn't blame Claire for supporting Sam's right to make his own decision, normally that would be a good thing. Claire still clearly thought she was a freak, no matter how much Dean tried to convince her otherwise, it was natural she'd want to side with him...but she had done other things to make things easier on the rest of them. Eventually Dean knew his Dad might even be thankful for it, but not today.
"I hope so," Claire said softly, then turned her attention to putting away the rest of the food. It was accomplished quickly, then she moved over to take out with foam plates. Dean still hadn't gotten anything, just kept pacing, so she unpacked the food in those bags as she slanted a look at him.
"Hey, did you see, I even got pie from the place next door," she said, opening the foam container to reveal a whole pie sliced in sections, one she held up to him to see. Some things, like knowing the best food bribes for her best friend, were easy. Other things, like seeing him torn up with worry for Sam, were impossibly hard.