AND THEN HE CALLED ME BROTHER
When he first sees the hellhound in front of him all Sam can think is, "Kill it before Dean gets here." ...kill it before Dean can come and get in its way, before he can be torn to pieces...so many pieces. Sam has to swallow back vomit and panic just with the thought. He's too terrified of the memories inside to be afraid of the slathering, majorly pissed off hellhound waiting for him outside Baby.
When he plunges his blade deep into its chest and black blood splatters hot all over him his very soul sighs in satisfaction. Every time he can destroy one of the invisible beasts he feels somehow that he heals the still raw and pulsing wounds of the past. It's still one of his worst nightmares, still the one thing that most haunts him
Dean torn from him only to be torn into pieces that no one wanted. Nobody wanted Dean but Sam, nobody needed Dean but Sam...and still they took him away, still they killed the best, bravest man Sam had ever known. And then Sam was the one who had to live on.
It was something Sam had to work at everyday to recover from. Dean had been taken from him again since then and he'd gotten Dean back but it still it had to be worked at to heal. And impaling that hound on that angel blade had gone a long ways to healing.
Dean arrives after the affair is done with. And he covers his nerves with bitching about the car, and Sam is more than fine with that. The fear and the memories that had been swimming in Dean's eyes since this case had started was driving Sam close to the edge. The craziness reflected in Dean's eyes with the unknown memories of hell freaked Sam out to no end, sometimes when Sam caught that look in his brother's eyes he'd feel as if he was losing Dean all over again.
And that's when he decides he has to 'fess up to Dean about being in touch with Mick. He can still remember burying Dean's body and thinking about everything they had left unsaid and undone. Sam had been in such denial that he hadn't allowed Dean or himself goodbyes, hadn't allowed himself to say thank you for saving me, thank you for selling your soul for me, I hate you for it...but god I love you so much more...
And revisiting that fear, looking at the cause of all that blood and gore and loneliness...god the loneliness, in the very eyes again it forces him to speak. Forces the painful confession out and forces that shellshocked, betrayed, hurt look back on Dean's face...and how could he do this? Sam never wanted to be the one putting it there, it had been there so much lately, Dean had been violent and shifty with the nerves and offset emotions of having people he cared about go behind his back.
It was hard for Dean to accept, hard for him to forgive because he had worked so hard to never do that very thing to those very same people. And then of course that's exactly what Sam had gone and done.
Not a great plan.
Dean is all tension and exhaustion when they get home. When Sam's phone rings again and Dean throws that sarcastic barb at him (that your computer talking to you again?) he knows Dean's stellar instincts had beat him again. Dean has probably known deep down in his gut all along.
He still has the good grace to look hurt...but not surprised. And Sam imagines he can hear the unspoken words he knows he deserves everyone else has lied to me, why not you too? Only Dean doesn't say them, Dean smiles sad and sweet, his eyes deep and unreadable and admits they need to swallow their pride and work with the British.
And now who looks the fool? Sam is a liar and horrible brother and Dean...god how could Sam have expected anything less from Dean? Anything less than loyal understanding and faithful patience. He would never do anything that cost him Sam. Or in this case not do. He'd do anything for Sam including work with people he hated, hated.
Mick has a hunt for them. Dean is silent. Sam says they need a couple of hours to breathe, needs to fix the car but will be back on the road as soon as they are able. Dean sends him an understanding, fond look before disappearing down the hall towards his room.
Sam lets loose a big sigh.
For once he takes a page out of his brother's book and follows his instincts, traces Dean's footsteps down the hall and stops in his open door.
Dean sits on the edge of his mattress, elbows on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders. The thumb of one hand pressing a slow line down the center of the other's palm. Sam says nothing, watches the scene of Dean drawing strength and comfort from some invisible, never ending source of confidence and resilience.
Dean looks up at him, probably having known he was there all along. His eyes are a bit wild and bright, Sam would think he had a fever if he hadn't seen this before...felt this before. It was their own brand of PTSD, how their demons came to haunt them, how the wolves bit at their heels.
The nervous smile that turns up Dean's lips twists Sam's stomach as he steps into the room. Dean holds out one hand in front of him, gazes at it. Sam follows his eyes. The shake there is uncharacteristic but expected. Dean looks down, looks guilty. Sam's stomach twists tighter.
"Can't help it," Dean says softly, "Even after all these years, can't help it, just can't..."
Sam takes a seat beside him quietly and Dean uses his other hand to hide the tremble and squeezes them together tightly. "There was another victim out in the woods," he chokes out and then clears his throat roughly.
"All torn to shreds Sammy, all ripped apart...and I could just feel it, feel them all over me..." Dean breaks off and Sam can here the desperate, panicked tears surfacing, watches as Dean tries to brush some phantom feeling off himself. That feverish look glows in his eyes as his hands move desperately to try and remove the claws of ghostly hell hounds. Sam gently moves closer, catches one of his brother's hands out of the air, squeezes it reassuringly.
Dean suddenly stops, eyes locked on where their hands are joined and then slowly they coast up to Sam's face. "I know it was hard," Sam whispers. "But we saved her life, we saved her Dean...she didn't have to feel what you felt."
"I know, I know that," Dean stays tremulously, his tone frustrated. "Sometimes I still just want to run, sometimes I can still hear them..." he breaks off. Hands coming over his ears and Sam's heart constricts with worry and fondness.
"It's okay," Sam says, gently pulling Dean's hands away from his ears, "It's, it's supposed to be like this."
Dean looks up at him sharply and Sam holds out his own hand, palm up, the shake clearly evident, something he can't control...he wouldn't if he could...this is something he and Dean share. Sam takes his hand back too, presses his thumb up against that old, old scar...it's still a security for him even now after so many years have passed.
"How is it supposed to be like this?" Dean asks, sounding angry but confused as well, most of all still scared. "How is this okay? Its been ten years, Sam."
"You died, Dean." Sam says so quiet, like it would jinx them to even say it out loud. "And you went to hell."
Dean presses one of his trembling fists to his mouth, to cover his trembling lips, wordlessly shaking his head as he's swamped by so memories.
And Sam's seen this before seen Dean standing the edge of a spiral, looking down into frothy waves and wondering if the insanity below was not better? Sam's been through moments like this with him countless times before, when Dean just needs to know that someone is still here fighting through all the wrong and the gore with him.
Someone to whisper sweetly confident words, words of hope and love...it was worth it, you know it was worth to you. And Sam cradles Dean's heart so careful in his very palms as he talks Dean back to the land of the living, as he convinces Dean again that he is alive, he is topside and breathing fresh air, they know how to kill hellhounds now...Dean is safe.
You paid your dues for me, it's over...thank god, it's over.
But Sam is scared too sometimes, sometimes he can still see Dean white and bloody, ripped open before his very eyes. And sometimes he needs to talk himself down too. Sometimes he needs to know and feel that Dean is still alive.
And he can see in Dean's eyes that he's still stuck on Sam's last words, you died, you went to hell.
"I had to let you go," he says gently. And Dean's eyes jump to his face. "Had to let you be ripped away from me and I didn't let myself say goodbye, didn't let you say goodbye...and every single time I get to face one of those sons of bitches and I get to kill one it heals something inside me." And Sam can see as Dean thinks more about Sam and less about hell and death, and hellhounds that the life and coherency is returning to his eyes. "But I know it just tears you apart even more, I see it on your face like you're just toeing the edge of insanity."
Sam nudges their shoulders together and sends Dean a soft smile, "And that scares me so bad but it's okay Dean, its okay because you survived...it's okay because I see that shake and I know it's because you remember every moment, every single shred of flesh they ripped from your bones and you did it all for me..."
"Sammy," Dean takes a deep breath, "That was a along time ago and I'd do anything for you, you're my brother..."
"Just let me say this," Sam stops him. Sam swallows and turns his hand over to look at the scar there.
"You did it all for me and then I say, sorry I lied Dean, because I know you'll forgive me, I know you'll fight on with me because you've already done all that for me..."
Dean looks up at him then a question and loving brimming there, and Sam cocks his head to the side, feels tears come to his eyes, he bites his lip.
"And it's already forgotten isn't it? That I lied to you, that I betrayed your trust? And then you come in here to hide and wait for the shake to wear off, to count your breaths through the panic attacks..." and Sam just shakes his head when Dean looks at him like he might object. "...I get them too sometimes.
"And then you call me brother, just so easy, so selfless...and we never stop to be thankful for what we have in the scramble to make sure other people keep what we've already lost."
Sam stops and takes a deep breath, "I know you don't like to talk about the way you feel, or the way things impact you but I just want to say tonight, right now...I am so, so glad you came back to me. I've lost you so many times, and each time you come back patient and forgiving...and thank you Dean, thanks for that, for always being willing to fight on with me. No matter what happens or what I do, I always remain your brother and that's the greatest thing anyone has ever given me, that anyone has ever done for me...so thank you."
Dean blinks rapidly down at the floor while giving a weak laugh. "Wow, that was..." he breaks off rubbing his hand over his mouth then rubs his hands together slowly. Then he spreads them out before him and sends Sam a gentle smile. "Shaking is gone."
And Sam smiles as he looks down at his brother's hands and they are indeed the sure, strong, calloused...beautiful tools of a ruthless hunter again.
They share a small, content smile and Dean leans closer to his little brother. "I have never regretted it, not once. Not while they were tearing me apart, not while they were torturing me, not for one second even in all the nightmares and the shakes and panic attacks."
"I know." Sam returns. "Doesn't make it any easier though does it?"
Dean gives a tremulous laugh and shakes his head.
"I can call Mick and tell him when need a couple of days," Sam says, watching his brother carefully.
"No," Dean shakes his head, squares his shoulders and the look in his eyes gives Sam a thrill up his spine with the promise of what's to come.
"We've got work to do."
...the end.
Hope you guys enjoyed my emotions and thoughts on the episode. PLEASE REVIEW! ;))
Thank you for ur patience with my other stories. Life is craziness personified right now.