Disclaimer: Not mine. I just want to play with them.
Beta: My sister, Cass, who demanded this story to be longer and threatened to stand behind me with a whip if I don't expand it!
AN: This is an AU. It's set before "All Hell Breaks Loose", meaning Sam never died and Dean never had to make that deal. Also, in my universe, the yellow-eyed-demon can read minds.
Sam snapped his cell-phone shut and suppressed a sigh. He had either done the most stupid thing ever, sealing Dean's and his own fate, or he had saved a great deal of lives. It didn't matter either way. There was no going back now. "Dean," he yelled, standing right in front of the shut bathroom door "get out here, I found us a job, we need to go now."
Dean came out of the bathroom a moment later, towel wrapped around his waist and a disbelieving look on his face. "Now? Damn it, Sammy, couldn't you have said that before I took the shower? Why do we need to hurry anyway? What do we have?" Dean asked while grabbing his clothes. He sounded more than just a little pissed and Sam took a deep breath. While Dean enjoyed a good hunt, he actually didn't like to be kept in the dark about what was going on. Going blindly into a hunt meant Dead wouldn't feel as is he was prepared enough to protect Sam. But that couldn't be helped this time.
"I'll tell you on the way. Right now we really need to get going or we're gonna be late. Trust me on this, Dean, okay? All you'll need is your gun and some faith in me…" Sam hoped he didn't sound as desperate to Dean as he did to his own ears.
"Yeah, sure, faith," Dean murmured, pulling on his jacket with angry movements. "If this is some kind of prank, I'll get back at you for this. You're a fucking pain in the ass. You know that, right? Why don't you tell me what we got?" Dean asked again, grabbing the car keys and heading for the door.
"I told you, Dean, I'll fill you in on the way. We really don't have the time to argue now. Just go with it, this time, okay? You can yell at me later." At least Sam hoped there would be a later for both of them.
oooooOooooo
Dean fumed. Sam hadn't told him anything useful, besides the fact that they were meeting with someone who had information a demonic possession; and the directions where to drive to. Otherwise his brother was suspiciously quiet.
When they finally arrived at the out of the way field Sam had directed him to, Dean couldn't make out another car. There was just a lonesome figure, clearly visible in the light the Impala's headlights gave off. So, maybe this wasn't a prank after all.
Sam got out of the car and Dean hurried to do the same. He didn't know the first thing about the person Sam had set up this meeting with and he wouldn't want to risk Sam getting hurt. Whoever this was, Dean wouldn't allow Sam to face him alone. Weapon tucked into the back of his jeans safely, Dean moved to stand beside his brother.
"I see you've kept your word, Samuel," the middle aged man they were facing said without preamble. "I really didn't think this day would come. You've fought me so hard, the both of you did. I didn't think I would be able to get you on my side. You're my favourite, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here. I want what you have to offer. But remember our deal. Dean is off limits. He gets hurt by any of your little soldiers, all bets are off," Sam replied calmly and made to move towards the stranger.
"What the hell is going on here, Sam?" he shouted, panic gripping him. Something cold and nasty settled into the pit of Dean's stomach when, a second later, he saw the bright yellow gleam in the man's eyes. This couldn't be happening. Sam hadn't sent him into a trap. Sam didn't truly want to follow this son of a bitch that had killed both of their parents. This had to be some sort of sordid nightmare.
The weapon was in his hand before he even realized it. He aimed at the yellow-eyed-demon, despite the fact that he knew a bullet wouldn't do any damage to that son of a bitch. Not really anyway. As Dean watched, the demon grinned broadly, putting an arm around Sam's shoulders in a perverted farce of camaraderie.
"Little Sammy here and I have a deal," he said. "He joins my ranks as the leader of my army and you, Dean Winchester, get to live without any threads to your life. I'll make sure that such a thing, like your run in with Meg and her little pets won't happen again. I think that's a very generous offer from me. I'm putting my children in danger after all," he grinned maliciously.
Dean's heart began to pound. This couldn't be. "Sammy, please, what's going on? What is he talking about? He can't be serious," Dean choked out, hating how desperate he sounded.
"Oh, but it is true, Dean," Sam answered, sounding disinterested and bored. "I'm going with him."
There was a sharp stab of pain in Dean's chest at Sam's words and Dean felt as if his world would collapse. His weapon was now alternately aiming at Sam and the yellow-eyed-demon; who started to laugh.
"Oh please, Dean, don't act so surprised. You knew this would happen eventually. Daddy told you so, remember? He even told you that you might have to kill Sammy here. But we both know you're not capable of that, don't we? He's all that is left of your family now. He is your everything. And now he's gonna leave you. He's gonna leave you just like your mom and your dad left you. Because you are a failure, Dean. You had but one task, Dean and that was to keep Sammy here safe. And you failed. Pity that." The demon's tone was mocking and the truth of his words cut into Dean like a knife. He had failed. He wouldn't be able to kill Sam, no matter what. And the demon knew it.
With the last bit of strength he could still muster, Dean firmly aimed his gun on the yellow-eyed-demon again.
"You wanna shoot me now?" the demon mocked, taking a step forward and opening his arms wide. "Please, be my guest. This one's on the house. All you're gonna do is kill this host and I'll go and take Sammy here for a while. But it's alright. I guess it's only fair, considering I'm gonna take your Sammy from you. What do you think, Sam? Should your brother shoot me with his pretty little gun? Would you mind to share your body with me for a while?" He turned around a bit to look at Sam, who just smiled.
"No, I don't mind at all. Go ahead, Dean. Shoot him. Do it, Dean," Sam replied, his eyes fixed on his brother now.
Dean almost missed it. The little gleam, that special look in Sam's eyes and suddenly something in Dean's head clicked. All you'll need is your gun and some faith in me Sam had said. He'd told him what to do before Dean had known what was going on.
Without hesitation Dean pulled the trigger and shot that yellow-eyed-son-of-a-bitch right between the eyes.
And killed him.
Not just the host, but the demon as well. It was actually dead.
Dean's knees gave out. He collapsed, world spinning madly around him. Through the rushing of blood in his ears he heard Sam huff, "was about time, Dean." The next moment Dean threw up what little he had still in his stomach. There wasn't a lot as they hadn't had dinner yet. When Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, something in Dean snapped.
He jumped to his feet and punched Sam right into the face.
oooooOooooo
Pain exploded in Sam's jaw as Dean's fist connected to his face. Sam stumbled backwards and landed on his ass, looking at Dean with wide, worried eyes. He knew he deserved that punch, that and more. But he also hoped Dean wouldn't hit him again. He wanted to still be able to talk when Dean had cooled down enough to listen.
Right now there was so much fury – and pain – in Dean's face that Sam knew it was unlikely his brother would understand a word he said. So Sam decided to wait. He didn't have to wait long though because Dean was hauling him to his feet by the collar of his jacket, staring at him furiously.
"You lying son of a bitch. What the hell did you think you're doing? I could have shot you. I could have killed you. Do you have any idea how wrong this could have gone? Are you out of your mind?" Dean yelled right into Sam's face, shaking him madly. "Dou you know what this just did to me? Seeing you join ranks with the enemy? Do you have any idea what…what…" Dean began to stammer, hands losing grip on Sam's collar. He staggered backwards, but before he turned away, Sam could see tears beginning to pool in Dean's eyes.
Sam swallowed hard. Yes, he had known it was a risk. But he had thought more about the immediate danger to their lives. He didn't think Dean would take so long, would give the demon so much time to taunt and hurt him. Sam knew this was his fault. The things the demon had said, they were Dean's thoughts. Dean's deepest fears. Sam felt like an idiot. Yes, they had won. Yes, they had finally killed the demon that had stolen their childhood and their parent's lives. But, suddenly Sam wondered if the price they'd paid, the price he had made Dean pay, wasn't too high. Maybe there would have been another way. Maybe then Dean wouldn't be sitting on the hood of the Impala, rubbing his eyes angrily, trying to not break down completely. Maybe if Sam had found another way, then Dean wouldn't hate him now.
Suddenly, Sam knew what he had to do. He'd done it before, and he still felt guilty about it, but this time, Sam knew if he didn't do it, he would lose Dean. He'd lose what closeness and trust had been between them. Sam couldn't stand the thought of Dean not trusting him, not …loving him.
With slow steps Sam made his way over to where Dean was sitting. Gathering the powers he had recently developed, Sam slipped into the mindset he needed to alter Dean's memories. Reluctant to do what he had decided on, Sam hesitantly cupped his brother's neck. Dean didn't look up at his touch. Good, that would make things easier for Sam.
"I'm so very sorry, Dean," Sam murmured, before he reached out to Dean's mind and in the next moment, his brother sagged against him, unconscious.
oooooOooooo
Dean groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the ray of light that was streaming in through the insufficiently closed blinds. His head pounded and his mouth tasted like something had crawled in and died. He was obviously back at their motel room, but couldn't remember how he'd ended up there. What the hell had happened?
Sam was beside his bed in an instant, running a cool hand over Dean's throbbing forehead as he sat down on the bed. "Good, you're awake. I have painkillers for you. You think you can sit up a bit to take them?" Sam asked and Dean was surprised by the soft, concerned tone of voice.
"Um, sure…" Dean replied, his throat felling dry and scratchy. He managed to sit up against the headboard, swallowing the pills Sam was handing him, gratefully. Damn, what had happened? The events of the previous day were somewhat fuzzy around the edges, blurred and kinda unreal. But Dean had to know if this had been a dream or if the demon they had been hunting all their lives really was gone. "It wasn't a dream was it?" Dean blurted out, unable to stop himself.
"No it wasn't, Dean," Sam replied and Dean was happy to see a small smile creep over his face.
"Good, because I was kinda worried. What happened? I mean, how did I do it? It's all so …fuzzy. Why is it so fuzzy, Sam?" Dean asked, sounding pretty much like a lost little kid.
Sam laughed and Dean huffed. "It's most probably because you were running a fever and collapsed right after shooting that son-of-a-bitch," Sam answered. "What do you still remember, Dean?"
Dean frowned. "I remember that we wanted to meet with someone who was supposed to give us information about a possession. It turned out to be the yellow-eyed-demon, though. He tried to get you on his side again and you yelled at me to shoot him. And I did. It worked, too. Why did it work, Sam?" Dean's pounding head made thinking hard and somehow the events of the previous night didn't make a lot of sense to him.
"Well, that is a longer story I think should wait till your head is better. How are you feeling anyway?" Sam asked, his tone still gentle and concerned.
"Like crap," Dean admitted, confused as to why he felt so bad. "Tell me what happened already. Why do I feel like I've been hit by a truck? You said I had a fever and collapsed? When did I get sick?"
"I dunno what exactly happened, Dean, but right after you shot the demon and we were about to salt and burn the body, you just… collapsed. You had a high fever and were unconscious so I finished up and brought you back here. Must have been some sort of bug I guess. Something short lived, for sure, 'cause your fever is gone," Sam explained and Dean couldn't tell why he felt something about the stuff Sam was saying was amiss. Then something else hit him.
"You drove my baby?" he asked. "Dude, if there is one scratch on her, you're gonna…"
"Your car is fine Dean," Sam snapped, interrupting him. "God dammit, you are more concerned about your car than your own health. Sometimes I don't believe you."
"She's a classic," Dean defended, swearing to himself to check his baby for any kind of damage later on. His brother's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Now, if you're felling better, Dean, get your ass out of bed, I think we have something to discuss." Sam got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Annoyed, Dean picked the pillow from his bed and threw it at Sam's retreating form. It hit him square in the back. Dean grinned. Maybe life wasn't so bad after all, now that the yellow-eyed-demon was dead.
oooooOooooo
Two hours later found them in their motel room, sitting at the small, shabby table, facing each other. Dean had showered and shaved, feeling almost human again, the painkillers having taken away the worst of the pounding headache. Meanwhile Sam had been out and had gotten them breakfast and coffee. They really didn't need any kind of company for the conversation they were going to have.
Breakfast had been a silent, awkward affair. The fact that Sam had obviouslyknown Dean could kill the yellow-eyed-demon with his gun was hanging heavily between them. Dean hated it when Sam kept information from him, hated it when Sam had secrets. Especially when the secrets were as dangerous as the one he had obviously kept until last night. How was he supposed to keep Sam safe when Sam didn't give him all the information? How was he supposed to protect Sam when he wasn't sure what Sam needed protection from?
The gun and the bullets from last night were lying between them in the middle of the table. It was a silent accusation of the 'crime' Sam committed – sending his brother into a dangerous situation without giving him the proper information. Which was almost as bad in Dean's eyes as risking Sam's own life carelessly. Dean wouldn't let this slide. And now it was time for answers.
Dean eyed Sam warily, waiting for him to explain. He was still angry at Sam for the stunt he had pulled, but he was also scared. He was afraid that Sam had used some sort of dark ritual or whatever to enable them to kill the demon. He feared Sam had gone 'dark side' after all without Dean even noticing. Because even though they had just killed that yellow-eyed-son-of-a-bitch didn't mean Sam wasn't prepared to take over the demon army on the first occasion he got. But what scared Dean most of all was the thought that maybe Sammy was completely alright and now that the deed was done, he would leave to lead the apple pie live he had always wanted.
Dean knew if that really was what Sam wanted, he'd let him go, no matter how much it hurt. And it would hurt, that much was sure. Even the thought of not having Sam in his life constantly, of not being able to see him, tease him, talk to him each day, made Dean's stomach turn. There was something calming, steady and reassuring about the way Sam was curled beside him in the seat while Dean was driving. There was familiarity in the way his brother looked through his bangs, fooling everyone around them with a dimpled smile into believing he were just a harmless college kid. To Dean, those moments spent with Sam arehome. And Dean had the distinct feeling that this was going to be taken away from him very soon.
"You remember that little bookstore we went to last week? The one with the old Lady selling Tarot cards and amulets?" Sam suddenly asked into the tense silence.
"Yeah what about it?" Dean replied, puzzled. The bookstore had been nothing out of the ordinary. They hadn't even purchased anything.
"I found something there. In one of the old books. Notes. A few sheets of old paper between the pages of that one book. Dean, they were Samuel Colt's notes. I found the description of how to make the colt and the bullets. It's how I 'fixed' your gun, so you could kill the demon," Sam reported excitedly.
Dean looked confused. "So, you what, you stole the notes? Wow, Sammy I didn't know that you had it in you," Dean quipped automatically. "Maybe there is still hope for you. But wait… When did you make the bullets and shit?" he asked suspiciously, anger rising. "And why did you take the risk of just changing my bullets and weapon and not telling me? What if it hadn't been the yellow-eyed-demon last night? What if it just had been one of his children? He'd have known that we could kill him and would have hunted us down…." Something in Sam's gaze told Dean that Sam hadn't actually taken that risk. That Sam somehow had known who they were gonna face. "Youknew!" Dean snapped. "You knew it was gonna be him and you didn't warn me?" A horrible feeling crept up in Dean and he backed away from the table and Sam. "Christo!"
To Dean's great relieve Sam didn't flinch, and his eyes didn't turn black either. Instead, a sad smile crept over Sam's face and Dean's stomach clenched. Something big was going on here, he could tell. Dean sat down again reluctantly. He knew he had to calm down or Sam wouldn't tell him the whole story. If Dean wanted answers he knew he would have to be willing to listen to whatever explanation Sam was going to give him.
"I'm not possessed, Dean. And I didn't steal the notes, I bought them. You were there with me when I did. You were also present when I made the changes to your gun and your ammo. In fact, you helped me, you just don't remember any of it," Sam finally said slowly.
At this, Dean shot out of his chair again. Sam was seriously creeping him out here. Anger and panic were blooming in his chest as he stared at Sam with wide eyes, "Wait a minute. What are you saying? I forgot all of that stuff? Why would I forget that? What happened? Was I possessed? But then the demon would have known... What the hell is going on here, Sam?" Dean demanded to know, his green eyes flashing angrily.
"I made you forget, Dean," Sam admitted, avoiding to look at Dean. "That is kinda the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. My… talents have…developed. I've gained a new ability. Well, two actually," Sam tried to explain.
"You did that to me? You messed with my head and took away my memories? Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking?" Dean yelled, getting angrier by the second. "You don't go poke around in other people's heads. Especially not mine. I'm your brother, not some guinea pig you can test your pscho mojo on. You got that?" Then something else occurred to him and Dean demanded to know, "What else? What other things did you do to me? What other 'talent' did you develop?"
"I didn't do anything else to you, Dean," Sam said defensively, deciding to not mention the manipulation to Dean's memories from the night before. "The second thing isn't really something 'active' anyway. I'm…" he hesitated, blushing a little, "I'm empathic I think…"
"Empathic?" Dean echoed, confused as to what exactly Sam wanted to say with this. Empathy wasn't something Dean would consider useful when hunting demons. Maybe this talent would change somehow as well? Develop maybe? Sighing, Dean sat down on his chair again, eyeing Sam warily.
"Yes, Dean, empathic. That means I can feel other people's emotions," Sam explained. "Well, sometimes I can. I think with a bit of practice I might actually be able to manipulate them as well. Not that I'd do that. So yeah, that's it. I'm reading peoples feelings."
"I know what empathic means," Dean snapped. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I'm just a bit confused what good this 'power' will do you. It's not exactly a very useful gift."
Dean knew he'd pushed too far when Sam slumped, his eyes dulling. He watched as his brother closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Sam suddenly looked very young and drained. Dean almost felt sorry for him, when he finally said, "Listen, Dean, I know that's a lot to take in and I really don't want to have this discussion right now. How about we get some more sleep? Last night was exhausting enough for both of us and we're still not sure what sort of bug you caught: You collapsed after all. We can talk about this later and decide what to do next, then, alight?" He got up, saying, "I'm gonna grab a shower!"
"You grab your shower, I need some air," Dean replied tensely and stormed out of the motel room.
oooooOooooo
"So, let me get this straight, you let me help fix my gun and the ammo so it would kill the demon and then you just wiped my memory so that mind reading bastard wouldn't be able to know what we planned. Why couldn't he read your mind, then?" Dean asked, stabbing at his fries forcefully. They were having dinner in a little diner near their motel room.
"In a nutshell – yes. That's exactly what I did. As to why the demon couldn't read my thoughts - I'm immune to that sort of stuff. Remember, Andy's 'talents' didn't work on me, either." Sam smiled, but sobered up quickly saying, "Listen Dean, I'm sorry I had to do what I did. I wish it hadn't been necessary, but there was no other way," Sam sounded like he was truly sorry.
Dean sighed. He felt as if there was something else Sam wasn't telling him, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Still, a part of him did understand Sam's motivation. "Yeah, yeah I get it. Save me the chick flick moments. We got that bastard killed, that's all that counts. Just promise me one thing, Sammy," Dean said, looking Sam straight in the eyes over the diner table they were sitting at. He needed to make sure that Sam knew that he was serious. This wasn't something he wanted a repetition of – ever.
"What do you want, Dean?" Sam asked, and his posture revealed that he had a guess what Dean was about to say.
"You will never do such a thing again. No more stealing my memories, no altering my emotions, no poking around in my head. Are we clear? You do that again and things will get nasty. This is nothing you're allowed to mess around with. Swear you won't do it again, Sammy. Swear it." Dean clarified and looked at Sam expectantly.
"Yeah, Dean, I swear. I won't mess with your head again," Sam promised solemnly.
Dean grinned. "Fine, now that we've settled that, how about we go back to our room? We have weapons to adjust and ammunition to make and of course the next hunt waits for us. Now that we can kill those bastards instead of just sending them back to hell, we'll be quite busy," Dean said cheerfully, pushing his now empty plate away from himself.
Sam squirmed and hesitated. "Dean, I'm not coming with you. I mean, I'll help you with the guns and the ammunition of course, but that's it. I won't go back to hunting."
Dean stared at Sam blankly; feeling like someone had punched him in the gut. Sam was going to leave him. He was actually fucking leaving Dean behind again. Somehow Dean had forgotten emotional pain could physically hurt so badly. He just kept staring at Sam blankly, trying to get a grip on his emotions. He remembered that Sam had said he was empathic, so going all emo on him was probably a very bad idea. Dean had sworn to himself that he would never keep Sam from being happy. And if Sam wanted to give up hunting, if he wanted to go back to the life Dean had taken him away from almost two years ago, then that was what Sam should do. When Sam spoke again, Dean realized that he had been silent for too long, his inner battle had obviously taken longer than he'd thought.
"Dean, you knew that I was gonna leave. I told you I wouldn't live this life forever. It's over now. We did what we've been trained to do for all these years. We've completed our task. Now it's time we think about ourselves for a change. I know you're as tired of all the sacrifices we had to make, as I am. All of this is gonna change now. I can finally have normal, Dean, we can have normal. You could give up hunting, too, could go back to school as well if you want to. Or maybe you could open a garage, repair cars, or find something else you enjoy. Come with me, Dean. Think about it."
Sam's tone of voice was somewhere between excited and desperate and Dean almost felt sorry for him. He really thought Dean would give up hunting. Couldn't Sam see that hunting was everything Dean knew? That he couldn't give it up any more than breathing? Finally, Dean took a deep breath, trying desperately to sound normal and said, "I've thought about it from the day you told me you're gonna leave again, Sammy. Hunting is everything I know, everything I'm any good at. I won't give up that life, especially not now that you have given me the opportunity to kill those demons. You go live your white picket fence dream, Sammy, but leave me out of it. I can't really blame you, this life was never what you really wanted…" he drifted off, hating how resigned his voice sounded, how defeated. But Dean couldn't help it. Sam was what held him together, the last of his family, and the most important person in his life.
Sam must have picked up on his mood because he said, "Listen, Dean, I don't have to leave right away, I could stay for a little longer, make sure all the guns and bullets work alright…"
Dean interrupted him, pulling himself together visibly. "Nah, its cool, Sammy. Just give me the notes and show me what to do and I'm sure I'll figure it out. No need for you to delay the start of your new life," Dean forced a smile on his face and got up. "Come on, Sammy, I'm sure you're eager to get back to your college-boy life."
oooooOooooo
The call came about five months after Sam had left Dean in the shabby motel in the middle of nowhere. It was Bobby, and he sounded serious. Dean was slowly but surely killing himself. He was taking unnecessarily high risks, he was drinking, getting in bar fights and he went after every vile creature he could find. He didn't rest enough and he refused help from anybody, even Bobby. When Dean had gotten totally drunk and picked a bar fight the other night, almost getting himself killed when he got up alone against three, Bobby had gotten word of it and called Sam.
The younger Winchester was still brooding over his books even though it was after midnight. He'd settled for psychology this time, and he liked it so far. Sam even had a new girlfriend, Victoria, who didn't look a thing like Jess but was sweet and gentle and didn't ask questions Sam wasn't prepared to answer.
But when Bobby called, Sam packed his bags and drove to Youngstown, Ohio, to see how bad it really was with Dean.
What he found exceeded his worst nightmare. When he arrived at the little motel Dean was staying at, he found his brother unshaved, completely drunk, sleeping fully clothed on the bed. He had bruises and cuts on his arms and in his face and he definitely had lost weight.
The doors and windows were sloppily salted and wouldn't keep out anything at all. Sam was surprised Dean was actually still alive. His brother had just slept through him breaking into the room and he hadn't been too silent about it, almost wanting to startle Dean. But Dean had slept on. If his brother's looks were anything to go by, he'd had a few rough months.
Sam shook his head about himself. He should have known that Dean lied when he called and said everything was fine and he was having a blast with the improved weapons. It was so typical for Dean to hide away all of his feelings and pretend he was alright.
Finally, Sam sat down on the bed beside his sleeping brother and softly touched his arm. Usually this alone should have woken Dean, fully alert and with a weapon in his had, this time however Dean just grunted and slept on. Sam shook Dean more forcefully, almost expecting to be hit squarely in the face for it, but once again nothing much happened. After a few moments of more shaking and calling Dean's name, though, his brother finally opened his eyes, blinking blearily.
"Sammy?" he asked; voice hoarse.
"Yeah, Dean, it's me. Come on, get up, we need to talk," Sam tried to coax his brother to get out of bed.
"No, go away. You're not real anyway. You're gone. Hurts so much that you're gone. 'M all alone now," Dean slurred, burying his face deeper in the pillows.
Sam's heart broke. He reached out to stroke Dean's cheek, hoping to get his brother to look at him again. When Sam touched Dean's skin however, a wave of pain, loneliness and bone deep despair hit him. Sam gasped. He'd never felt anything like this before. It was as if Dean was dying inside. He didn't know how anyone could live with this kind of pain. Well, obviously Dean couldn't either.
Sam stroked Dean's hair and finally the man on the bed turned around again. "Miss you so much, Sammy. Need you. Love you," he murmured before falling asleep again.
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes at the words of his brother. Sam knew he was at least partly responsible for the state Dean was in. Coming to a decision, Sam leaned down and kissed the top of Dean's head. "I love you too, Dean. You're the best brother I could have wished for. I owe you my life many times over. I hope you'll forgive me," he said, before he reached out to Dean's thoughts and memories and replaced the emptiness and loneliness with feelings of calmness and comfort. He found the memories of the day he had left, and smoothed them out, took away the edge, made them more bearable.
Sam knew if Dean ever found out what he'd done there would be hell to pay, but Sam would deal with it when – if – the time came. Right now Dean needed to get back his will to live and Sam would be dammed if he let his brother die because of this. He wasn't ready to give up his new life for Dean, but he wouldn't let him suffer either. Not when he could help it.
"I'm so very sorry, Dean," Sam murmured, echoing the words he had spoken so long ago on that field where they had killed their worst enemy. He felt the weight of the broken promise weighing him down, but couldn't allow himself the luxury of breaking now. So Sam got up and left. The motel room door closed silently behind him.