WARNING: Spoilers for 5x14 "My Bloody Valentine", as well as for general events of seasons 4 and 5.
Author's Note: This is a sort of tag to the end of 5x14 "My Bloody Valentine". It takes place roughly 48 hours after Sam got locked in the panic room.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Sam opened his eyes slowly, the simple motion seeming to require a great deal of effort.
He attributed that to the fact that his eyelids somehow actually hurt. However, he soon discovered that the rest of him hurt also, and so Sam sought a distraction from the persistent ache that seemed to accompany each heartbeat.
Unfortunately he couldn't come up with any ideas of how to take the edge off the way the movement of his blood was causing discomfort in his very veins…
Blood.
And that's when Sam remembered everything that had happened.
The demons releasing him from the motel bathroom, his inability to resist attacking them and drinking their blood, Famine…And of course, there was Dean.
After Sam had defeated Famine and Dean had taken the Horseman's ring, Castiel had transported them all to Bobby's house. (The angel had thankfully managed to kick his craving for red meat once Famine was dealt with.)
Upon their arrival, Dean had quickly hauled Sam into the panic room and set him up for his second detox in less than a year. And although this time it was absolutely something that Sam wanted…Something he knew he needed…The pain was just as agonizing, if not worse than before.
Because this time Sam was aware that his brother was standing just outside the iron door, surely angry and disappointed, and unlike the last time they were in that position, this time Sam felt truly guilty.
Staring up at the ceiling of the panic room, watching the fan rotate behind the metal devil's trap, Sam wondered if he had it in himself to face Dean again after what had just happened. How could he look his brother in the eye after having fallen off the wagon like that? Heck, he didn't even want to face himself at this point…
Sam had sworn to himself that he would never again fall victim to his craving for demon blood; that he would not make the same mistakes twice. He told himself that he would be stronger than that, yet less than a year later, here he was again. Cuffed to the same old army cot and feeling like he had just gone twelve rounds with a cement wall.
Sam groaned.
If only they had actually been dealing with a rogue Cupid like they had originally suspected, or if only the demons hadn't come to the motel…
If only he had been stronger.
Sam's wishful thinking was interrupted by the sounds of under-greased metal hinges, and he felt a brief moment of panic. He wasn't ready to deal with Dean's judgment yet…
Sam listened nervously as his brother approached the cot, until finally the older Winchester came into his line of vision. And Sam saw that Dean didn't look angry or disappointed. He didn't even look sad.
Dean simply looked unbelievably tired, and Sam realized he probably hadn't slept since the detox had begun.
"You stopped, um, making noises." Dean said hesitantly, and Sam wondered how much he'd screamed. "I thought I'd come check, you know. See how you're doing. If you're ready to…" Dean nodded towards the cuffs attached to Sam's wrists to indicate that he needed to be sure before letting Sam go.
The younger man opened his mouth to say that he was through the worst of it, but his voice was so raspy he could barely speak. Yeah. I definitely screamed a lot. He thought bitterly.
"Hang on a sec." Dean said, and he moved to a spot toward the back of the room. Sam could hear pouring sounds, and it wasn't long before Dean was next to him again, this time carrying a glass of water.
"I'm gonna hold your head up so you can drink it, ok?" Dean informed him, bending down a little to place one hand at the base of Sam's skull. He gently lifted Sam enough to where he could drink the water Dean offered him without choking, and as the liquid touched Sam's lips, he thought it might have been the best thing he'd ever tasted in his whole life.
"Thanks." Sam said when he had chugged the whole glass, his voice stronger.
"So are you doing, you know…ok?" Dean asked.
"I'm past the bad part I think, so yeah. I'm just sore now." Sam replied awkwardly, noticing the way Dean's eyes scanned his face the whole time, searching for the lie.
Apparently Dean found none because he pulled a small key out of his pocket next and set to work unlocking the cuffs on Sam's wrists.
The release from the restricting metal felt almost as good as the water had on his parched throat, and once he had a free range of motion, Sam worked to sit up. It felt as though horses had been kicking his torso the day before, but he overcame the aches and finally reached an upright position.
The small physical feat seemed like a monumental accomplishment, and that reminded him of how far he had fallen. How had he let himself wreck his body like this again?
Dean seemed to be thinking along the same lines because the next words out of his mouth were, "You know you're gonna have to take it easy for a few days now, right?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah." He said wearily, but he was less interested in discussing his required down-time and more interested in getting the elephant out of the room. "Look, Dean…" he began, "I'm…"
Sam was going to start with 'I'm sorry', but Dean didn't give him the chance.
"So you're gonna to need to eat and take a shower and all that." The older Winchester cut him off. "Do you need help getting upstairs?"
Sam knew that Dean was making sure Sam was ok physically. Water, food, hygiene… His older brother was doing his job, just not the way he normally did it.
There was none of the usual apparent concern for Sam's mental health. No "You hanging in there?" or "Do you want to talk about it?" There was just an uncomfortable wedge between them, and Dean's eyes that seemed determined not to meet his own.
It hurt, to say the least.
For all of Dean's stubbornness when it came to sharing his own emotions, he had never been one to back down from getting Sam to talk. He had always been the one person Sam could open up to, and if Sam resisted, Dean would find a way to drag the conversation out of him.
But not this time.
This time, Sam realized there was no such talk coming. His brother wasn't ready for that yet, and though Sam didn't blame him, it didn't make the reality of it any less painful.
"I can manage." Sam finally replied to Dean's question, and then watched as Dean gave him a small nod and headed for the panic room's door. He paused in the metal frame and turned back.
"If you need anything, shout." Dean said, some unidentifiable emotion flickering across his face at the last word before turning quickly so he wasn't looking directly at Sam. And then he was walking away again, leaving Sam alone on the cot.
"Sure thing." Sam said sullenly to the empty room.
Sam was quick to realize that walking upstairs on his own would be a bit more challenging than he had lead Dean to believe.
On Sam's first and second attempt to even heft himself to his feet, he wobbled and ended up sinking back onto the cot.
The third time was a charm though, and so eventually he was standing on two legs, still a bit shaky, but determined to maintain the upright stance.
He took a deep breath and slowly shuffled forward, trying to ignore the angry protests of his limbs. How had he forgotten the bone-deep ache of the aftermath from a detox? Then it occurred to him that he had been freed from the panic room before the end of the first time, and so he had never fully reached this point.
The thought only encouraged him to move faster.
It had been several minutes since Dean had gone back upstairs, and Sam had only just reached the staircase himself. He was breathing heavily from the effort, wondering idly if it might be better to just lie down right there on the floor and have a nap, when the door at the top of the stairs opened.
Dean came walking back down and headed right for Sam. "Yeah, I figured you weren't up for this yet." he said as he helped balance his brother against his shoulder and assisted him in the climb up the stairs, taking his time and not rushing Sam.
It was the kind of care Sam had grown so accustomed to coming from Dean, but the silence and lack of eye-contact made it feel foreign.
Once at the top of the stairs Sam was able to manage on his own, and so he trailed slowly behind his brother as they approached the kitchen.
"Cas is off doing his whole 'search for God' thing, and Bobby went to pick up some more groceries but we saved you some take-out last night, just in case. I'll nuke it for you when you're done getting cleaned up." Dean spoke in a decidedly casual tone, but there was something stiff about it. It was in the way he was careful not to leave Sam room to argue, and in the way his eyes were so…unreadable, because he still wasn't looking at Sam straight on.
"Yeah, thanks." Sam replied, his gaze lingering for a moment on the back that faced him before he finally moved off to the shower.
The water felt like drops of pure energy, washing away the grime of Sam's recent experience and revitalizing his strength.
When he stepped out of the shower about fifteen minutes later, he felt stable on his feet. His limbs weren't shaking much anymore and some of the soreness had died down. He felt clean and even relatively alert.
He changed into fresh clothes and headed back to the kitchen where he found Dean just finishing with re-heating the take-out, as promised.
Sam sat down at the kitchen table and accepted the plate of food offered to him, and the glass of water, and then paused at the small capsules Dean set down next to his glass.
"I wasn't even bleeding to death, so why do I get painkillers?" Sam attempted to joke. He was unnerved when Dean's eyes widened slightly at the question, as if Sam had said something upsetting.
"Because I know you need them." was all Sam got as a reply, but the older Winchester looked like the matter was of high importance.
Sam reached for the pills and water, hoping to calm his brother down, but when he looked up again Dean had already left the room.
Sam sighed and stared at his food wishing, not for the first time in his life, that Dean would just talk to him.
Late that night Sam was having a hard time falling asleep, even with the painkillers traveling lazily through his system.
He lay on Bobby's couch, having found himself unable to go into the room that he and Dean would have been sharing. Normally when they were having some sort of conflict, the close confines of a motel room just served to aggravate things further. At least here in Bobby's house they could get a little space, and maybe that would help.
Maybe space was what Dean needed.
Not in the way that Sam had originally thought after letting Lucifer free, back when he had left Dean and quit hunting. They definitely worked better as a team, even as dysfunctional as their relationship was.
Not to mention the world was in such a state of disarray that Sam could not knowingly leave the job again. The 'all hands on deck' approach was best, even if his hands were stained with…Well, were dirtied with mistakes.
No, he would stick it out here with his brother. He just figured that brother would want to keep his distance for a good long while after recent events.
Sam suddenly sat up, distracted from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps padding softly down the staircase.
A moment later Dean quietly rounded the corner, pausing when he noticed that Sam was up and staring at him.
"Oh…" Dean said, voice faltering for a minute. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I was just…"
Sam raised an eyebrow when his brother didn't complete the sentence, knowing Dean had been coming to check on him, but he let it drop. Even as upset as Dean seemed to be with him, Sam supposed that old habits died hard. "You didn't. I was already awake." He said instead.
"Oh." Dean repeated, looking intently at the rug on Bobby's floor for a moment before he walked over to the chair near Bobby's desk and pulled it forward, sitting down and facing Sam.
"Look, man. I'm…I'm sorry." He said slowly, and the awkward apology completely caught Sam off guard.
"For what?" the younger Winchester asked, genuinely confused.
It was Dean's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Obviously I've been kind of…I know I've been pretty weird with you since you woke up, and I just…" Dean ran a hand across his face and sighed.
"You don't know what it's like to hear you going through that. I mean, yeah, I'm sure actually being the one going through it sucks a lot worse. But still…Listening to you screaming for me to make it stop, and me knowing that I couldn't..." Dean's voice trailed off.
Sam took in everything his brother had just said, allowing the pieces of the puzzle to click into place.
How tired his brother looked, and how obvious it was he hadn't slept the whole detox. Sam had been vaguely aware of his brother's presence on the other side of the door basically the entire time…
Then he remembered the first thing Dean had said to him when it was finally over with.
You stopped, um, making noises.
Sam had assumed his brother was referring to him screaming in general. The thought had never occurred to him that maybe he had been screaming for Dean. Calling for his brother to save him from the suffering…
Yet he believed it was entirely plausible. After all, whenever he needed help, what was the first name that came to his mind?
Only this time Dean had been unable to do anything and that knowledge was obviously weighing on him.
Which would explain why Dean had been so focused on Sam's physical well-being since he had woken up. Dean had been stepping on his sibling's attempts to talk with orders for him to eat, drink, take painkillers…Sam thought he was avoiding discussing the demon blood, but now Sam realized he was just trying to do what he had been incapable of doing for Sam before.
Dean had been trying to make it all better.
"Dean…" Sam began softly, "This is all my fault. I…"
Not for the first time that day, Dean interjected. "Sam, it's not. The thing is, this time it's not your fault at all. You had the guts to tell me just how badly Famine was getting to you, and I know admitting that to me wasn't fun. But you still bowed out of the hunt because you knew it was for the best. And then Famine screwed you over and sent you demonic room service…" the older Winchester sighed. "You did what you could, and I don't blame you for what happened."
"Well, I could say the same thing to you." Sam asserted. "I honestly don't remember what you're saying was happening in the panic room, but I believe it's true." he paused, trying to find the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. "You're my emergency contact number one, Dean. When things go wrong, you're the first person I call because I know you'll do everything you can to help me."
Dean looked like Sam's words were only making him feel worse, so the younger man rushed to get to the point.
"Just stop and think for a second." he encouraged. "The fact that calling for you is my knee-jerk reaction to anytime I'm in trouble…Dean, that says everything, doesn't it? Sure, you can't save me every time something goes sideways. That's impossible no matter who's trying. But you always stick with me and I know it. So even if you don't think that's much to offer, I think it's worth a hell of a lot."
They were quiet for a moment, both finally becoming aware of how much talking they had actually done. Sam was also watching Dean closely as his brother digested everything he had said, awaiting the verdict.
Finally Dean looked Sam straight in the eyes for the first time since entering that panic room, and Sam was relieved to see that there was acceptance there.
After a few more moments of silence, Dean cleared his throat. "Well this got awkward fast. If you're thinking we should hug or something, tough luck kid." He said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Shut up, you totally started it this time." Sam teased.
"So by saying 'this time' you're admitting that most of the time you're the sap, huh?" Dean tossed back.
Sam was quick with his retort, "So by distinguishing between 'this time' and 'most of the time', you're admitting you did start it tonight, right?"
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, but he was fully smiling now.
And somehow, despite all their hurt and the impending apocalypse, Sam suddenly felt sure things would be alright. Because they were ok again, and he could only take that to be a good sign.
"G'night Sammy." Dean finally said, getting to his feet and heading toward the staircase.
"Night." Sam replied, drawing comfort from the familiar nickname even though he would never say so out loud.
Not ten minutes later, both men were finally sleeping soundly.
Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I wrote this because, remembering those last couple scenes from that episode, I couldn't get Dean's broken expression out of my head or the haunting sound of Sam's screaming pleas. Please take a moment to leave a review. There is no greater feeling as an author than to receive feedback. :) Oh, and happy Supernatural Tuesday to you! :D
P.S. The title is based on the song "Everything" by Lifehouse. It is a purely beautiful song that seemed fitting (when looked at in a brother context). At any rate, I highly recommend it. ;)