TITLE: Cleansed
AUTHOR: Me
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The show belongs to Eric Kripke. I don't own anything here. I'm just playing in his sandbox and fully intend on returning his toys when done.
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean, gen
SUMMARY: Sam wonders what Dean's big, bad secret is.
WORD COUNT: 483
A/N: Post-Bloody Mary ficlet (kinda, but not really? lol idek), so, obviously, spoilers for that episode. Thanks to withyour for looking it over in IM. All remaining mistakes are mine!

Cleansed

Sam couldn't help but wonder, as he stood under the washed-out fluorescents of the motel bathroom and carefully sponged away the dried blood, what Dean's terrible secret was.

Sam's secret wasn't even really a secret. Dean knew, knew that Sam blamed himself for Jess' death. Sam didn't even really try to hide his true feelings and emotions around Dean. Or maybe it was just that Dean was better than most at reading him.

The motel they'd chosen was dingy and the bathroom especially so. The lights flickered and the mirror was cracked and filmy with caked-on dirt, and Sam couldn't pretend that it didn't send shivers down his spine. Even though they'd won out, even though Bloody Mary was gone.

Sam squeezed the sponge and ran warm water over it. The water slowly turned from crystal clear to pink in the cracked, cruddy sink basin, and Sam flicked his eyes back up to his reflection.

Dean slouched in the doorway, dried blood still streaking down his cheeks. "You all right?"

Sam offered Dean a slight nod. "You?" He picked up a fresh towel and rubbed it over his face and into his damp hair, trying to blot out what he'dóhe didn't know what Dean saw, when he faced down his traitorous reflection, but Sam, he saw Jess. Butterfly-pinned to the ceiling by invisible bonds, blonde hair spread out behind her shoulders like angels' wings. The look in her eyes blamed Sam.

Dean shifted, the tacky sound of leather rubbing against leather filling the heavy but inexplicably echoy silence between them, snapping Sam out of his reverie. Dean coughed and ducked his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm fine, Sammy."

"Deanó" Sam began, but Dean's head snapped up and the look in his eyes struck any protests from Sam's lips. Sam fumbled for the stopper and pulled it out, pink-tinged water swirling out and down the drain. "All yours."

Dean shouldered past Sam and rolled up the sleeves of his leather jacket, running warm water over his hands. "Could youóI just wanna be alone right now," Dean said, turning and offering Sam a sliver of a smile.

There was somethingósomething unsteady in Dean's eyes, wavering and flickering, but Sam just nodded. "Sure. Dean, Ió" Sam paused, unable to find the right words. He wanted to know what Dean had done that was so terrible, that Dean couldn't bring himself to tell. Instead, Sam clipped him on the shoulder once, and then a second time. He let his hand linger. "I'll be in the other room if you need me."

"I'll be fine, Sammy," Dean said, voice ragged and rough-hewn. Sam nodded and turned, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Once he was finally alone, Dean raised his head and gently began to sponge off the sticky blood streaming down his cheeks.