Author's Note: Okay, so this is extremely short, but I came up with this from a prompt my friend sent me and I just really wanted to fill it asdjglk. I also got some ideas from Sherlock and Doctor Who, so you may see some of those in this. Enjoy~
Sam worries.
But he doesn't say a word.
Mostly because whenever Sam brings anything up, Dean changes the subject. Other times he'll look Sam in the eyes gravely and mutter, "Damnit, Sam, we've talked about this. Leave it alone." So Sam says he's sorry. Dean says he is, too.
However, Sam isn't clueless, no matter how much Dean thinks he is. Because he notices. He notices how Dean looks sad when he thinks Sam can't see, or how Dean trembles and mumbles almost desperately in his sleep. So he sees things. And he keeps quiet about them.
Some days are worse than others. Some days Dean just starts to cry while Sam pretends to carry on with his research when all Sam wants to do is hold his brother. And some days Sam has a harder time keeping quiet about what he has noticed.
One night Sam woke abruptly to an empty bed beside his, and his first notion was to panic before he realized that a crack in the bathroom door let a sliver of light slip into the hotel room. With a sigh of relief, he scurried out of bed to get a drink of water, just quiet enough so Dean wouldn't know that he had been up. He began to tip toe, when he stopped.
He was rooted to the spot like stone.
He had heard mumbling.
Sam had never seen or even heard Dean pray before, not seriously anyway. Dean had never been the praying type. Until Castiel came along, of course, but even then, Dean didn't sincerely pray. Yet, through the crack in the door, there was Dean. Dean sitting crisscross on the toilet seat. Dean with his eyes closed, mouthing into his palms. He cleared his throat softly as Sam shifted his eyes away and pressed his back firmly alongside the wall. "Cas?" Dean's voice was muffled from pressing his mouth into his clasped hands. "Cas, it's me, Dean."
Sam held his breath as Dean spoke. "You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Um, there were times when you had to remind me that you weren't human and that you didn't quite understand. Or… feel." He chuckled, hesitating before he continued. "But let me tell you this." Dean raised his voice and Sam's knees began to feel like they were giving out.
This is definately not the first time Dean has prayed to Cas since he's gotten back from Purgatory.
"You were the best, the most human... uh, being that I've ever known and no-one will ever convince me that you weren't a hero. You saved me." A broken noise was ripped from the man that Sam assumed was originally meant to be a laugh. His eyes were filled to the brim with tears that he hadn't noticed before. Sam wondered when he began to cry. "Literally."
"I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more miracle, Cas, for me. Please… come back. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this." A loud crash echoed from the bathroom, Dean's fist hitting the counter, making Sam jump. "Come on," Dean pleaded, his voice rough, "you were the only person I hadn't completely screwed up yet." Sam shook his head as if Dean could see him. No. That's not true.
"Please, listen to me. I can be brave for you. But you have got to tell me how." There was a pause, and Dean drew in shaky breaths, aching for a response. None came.
"Okay," was the last thing he heard Dean say before he could make it back to his bed fast enough. He didn't want to hear Dean cry.
So Sam worries.
But he doesn't say a word.