Summary: Sometimes there's nothing Dean can do to help his brother back. All he can do is be there. Post 6x22.

I'll Be Here When It's All Gone

Dean could tell it was taking every fiber of will and ounce of strength his brother had not to cower away from him. Sam's hands were pressed to the ground, fingers curled in the 70's era shag carpet of their newest motel room, and he was still shaking.

"Sam…" Dean choked out. "You…you know I'd never hurt you, right?"

A tenuous, forced smile looked up at him, Sam's eyes shining.

"I know Dean would never hurt me." Sam shrugged , breath catching pitifully. "I just don't know if you're Dean."

Dean nodded, just standing there a moment, absorbing the fact that Sam thought he might be the devil himself or his vicious older brother and he wasn't swinging a knife at him or bolting. He was alternately heartbroken and proud. Sam was trying so hard…And there was nothing, nothing, Dean could do or say that could prove who he was. Those bastards got inside your head, knew everything. He had no way of comforting his little brother and that broke him worse than anything. His presence was frightening Sam, but he couldn't leave him alone.

The hallucinations were always worse when Sam was alone. Nothing there to keep him grounded, or at least try to, anyway. He'd sink back down into it, into the Cage and the horrors in his mind, so much deeper. He'd hurt himself countless times trying to escape from the delusions. Sometimes accidental, sometimes not. Because, 'I just want it to stop. Just make it stop. Dean…Dean, please.'

Even when he didn't register that Dean was with him, his brother's name was always on Sam's lips. Dean cringed and had nightmares of his own imagining how many times Sam had cried out for him in the Cage and how many years it had been before he'd stopped. Or if he never did.

"Okay." Dean took a breath and, slowly, walked over and sat beside his brother, back against the wall. "How 'bout we both just sit here till things calm down or clear up a little, okay?"

Sam held himself rigidly, and wouldn't look at Dean, but he nodded stiltedly.

They stayed like that awhile. No TV because Dean refused to agitate Sam even a little by moving and, truth be told, Dean wasn't willing to have any noise louder than the rain falling on the roof muffle any sound Sam made.

After a couple hours, Dean was dozing lightly.

Sam made a choked, sobbing sound. Dean looked at him and saw his eyes, unfocused and roaming around the room. Seeing something that wasn't there, tracking some horror manifested in his mind.

Dean licked his lips and forced himself not to reach out for his brother, not to move at all. He kept his voice calm even as Sam's breathing became labored.

"Nothing there that can hurt you, Sammy." Because there was something there. Something that was real to Sam was real period. He saw it. He reacted to it like it was there, so it was. "Won't let anything hurt you."

Sam ground his teeth and darted his eyes sideways to look at Dean, but still refused to turn his head or move in any way. After a few moments of soft words and spastic breathing, Sam nodded again. He calmed down incrementally after that.

A few more hours passed and Dean was knocked out of his half-doze by a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Sam had moved just enough so their sides touched. He was still tensed up, but not as much as he had been. Dean waited for Sam to make the first move or speak first. After a handful of minutes, he heard the soft voice.

"…Dean." Dean smiled. That was all Sam would say for awhile. But it meant he trusted Dean was actually Dean. He just couldn't get the words out and he was still a bit of a mess mentally, needing a bit more time to come back around to the real world.

"I'm here, Sammy." Dean reached over and gently wrapped his hand around his brother's wrist, two fingers finding his pulse point and staying there. Sometimes he needed to remind himself Sam was still there just as much as Sam needed to be reminded that he was with Dean, the real Dean, now.

"I'm here." He breathed out and waited for the morning when he'd be able to coax his brother back into bed among a litany of exhausted, miserable-sounding apologies that Dean kept on telling him were never necessary.