Life's On Balance [Supernatural] {2}

11.2 Two Hearts

"You're bossy," Sam said. Dean and I exchanged a look before turning back at Sam. "What?" I asked. "Dean is bossy," Sam said, pointing at Dean and then at me, "And you're short." He let out a laugh and I frowned.

"Are you drunk?" Dean asked. "Yeah," Sam replied. "So?" Dean and I exchanged another look before looking around at the alcohol table to see several empty bottles. "Stupid."

We looked back at Sam. "Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case," Dean said. "That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him," Sam said.

"What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything," I said. He looked at me, with tears in his eyes, "That's an excuse, Scar. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too."

Dean approached, "Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that." Sam slammed the table beside him, "No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!"

"Change what?" I asked. "My destiny, Scar!" He said. "All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch," Dean said and looked at me, nodding to Sam. We helped Sam to stand, "Come on," I said.

"I need you to watch out for me," Sam said. "Yeah. We always do," I said. "No!" Sam disagreed, looking between me and Dean, "No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever . . . turn into something that I'm not . . . you have to kill me."

"Sam," I said, shaking my head. Sam looked at Dean, "Dean, Dad told you to do it, you have to. That's why he told you not to tell Scar, because she would stop you. And I . . . I don't want that."

"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass," I snapped and my brothers looked at me with a frown. "He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"You know, she's right," Dean said, looking at Sam but our brother just shook his head, "No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"Yeah, well, Scar and I are not dying, okay? And neither are you. Come on, sit down," Dean said and we sat him down to one of the beds but Sam just sat, reaching up and clutching Dean's jacket, "No, please! Dean, you're the only one who can do it. You can't let Scar stop you. Promise."

"Don't ask that of me," Dean said. "Dean, please. You have to promise me," Sam begged. "Sam, shut up," I said.

Dean stared at Sam for a moment before glancing at me and then back at him, "I promise." Sam let out a sigh, "Thanks."

"All right. Come on," Dean said, shoving Sam back on the bed. Sam fall back, then turning over on his stomach to plant his face in the pillow, hugging it with both arms. Dean let out a sigh before I walked out. "Scar," He whispered as he followed me out of the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, whispering. "He wouldn't shut up about it," He whispered. "I promised to Drunk Sammy. Not the Sober Sammy. That promise was to the Drunk one."

"Please tell me that you won't ever even think about it," I begged him. "I won't," He said. "I promise." I stared at him for a moment, hoping I could find out if he was really going to keep his promise to me.

I took a deep breath and slowly nodded, "I'm be back soon," I muttered before walking off. I headed downstairs and walked down to the antique, empty bar. I walked closer to see Sherwin behind the bar.

He looked at me after pouring a drink to himself, "Find any good antiques?" I shook my head, "No, I got distracted."

I sat down on the chair in front as he nodded, "Have a drink." He grabbed another glass and I sighed, "Thanks." He poured a drink in the glass, "So, the guy just killed himself, huh?" I asked.

"That kind of thing seems to be going around lately," He replied, handing me the glass. "Thanks," I said. "And yeah, I heard about the other ones. It's almost like this hotel is cursed or something."

I took a sip and he nodded, "Every hotel has its spilled blood. If people only knew what's gone on in some of those rooms they've checked into," He explained before taking a sip from his own glass.

I nodded slowly, a small smile came to my lips, "You know a lot about the place, don't you?"

"Down to the last nail," He confirmed. "I'd love to hear some stories," I said. He looked from his glass to me in amusement, "You should never say that to an old man."

I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Come with me," Sherwin said, walking around the bar. I followed him out of the bar to the living room, heading up a wide staircase. He showed me old framed photographs on the walls.

"This is little Ms. Susan, her brother, little Mr. Ryan, and their mother Rose. Happier days," He explained.

"They're not happy now?" I asked with a frown. "Well, would you be, leaving the only home you ever knew?" He asked. I looked down before back, "I don't know," I said honestly. "I never really knew one."

"Well, this is Rose's home," Sherwin explained. "It's been in the family over a century. Used to be the family estate. And now she gets to live in some senior living graveyard, and they tear this place down."

"That's too bad," I said sadly before we walked back down. "I hear Rose isn't feeling well, either."

"No, she isn't," He replied. "What's wrong with her?" I asked. "It's not my business to say," He replied.

I slowly nodded, looking at a table cluttered with pictures. I looked at a picture frame with two baby pictures of the same baby. "Who's this?"

"That's Rose, when she was a little girl," Sherwin replied as he picked up a yellowing photograph of younger Rose sitting on a chair with young black woman. I frowned as I saw that the woman had a quincunx necklace.

"Who's that with her?" I asked. "That's her nanny, Marie. She looked after Rose more than her own mother," Sherwin answered before he turned around and walked towards the fire place, placing the picture onto the mantel.