Title from Alone Together by Fall Out Boy

Long after everyone else has gone to sleep, he finds Dean nursing a whiskey in the library. He knows that Dean doesn't like their home being overrun by other hunters, and doesn't begrudge his brother the time alone, but it's coming up on 1 in the morning and Dean looks exhausted. Sam should tell him to go to bed, but he knows that will go down like a lead balloon. Besides, he's not sure if he'll get another chance like this to actually talk to Dean alone about Michael and Kaia and everything in between.

"Dean?" he starts, approaching his brother. Dean looks up at the sound of Sam's voice, but doesn't say anything. Sam clears his throat. "We need to talk."

This time, Dean sighs heavily. "Oh great," he mutters. "About what?"

"What you said in the car-" Sam starts, but he's cut off by Dean groaning and scraping his chair back along the floor.

"Yeah, okay, thanks for the offer, Dr Phil, but I think I'll pass on the therapy." He stands and makes a move to leave, but Sam blocks his path.

"No, Dean," he says, setting his shoulders and glaring at his brother. "I'm not letting you run away from this again."

They face off for a moment, and Sam half expects Dean to just scoff and shove past him anyway. Instead, he just rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"Yes, chief," he says flippantly, flopping back down into his seat.

Sam ignores the jibe and takes the chair opposite Dean, relieved that he isn't being his usual stubborn self over this. Maybe that should worry Sam, but this talk is long overdue anyway.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "Of all people, I should have known what you were going through. I mean, I knew you were hiding something, but I figured that it was best to leave it. I was wrong, and for that I'm sorry."

He ventures a glance at Dean. He's frowning, wearing a confused expression. "What do you have to apologise for, Sam?" he asks. "I'm the one who put us all in danger today; I'm the one who should be apologising."

"I don't care about that," Sam tells him. "Of course I wish things hadn't gone down the way they did, but, man." He sighs. "Everything we do puts us in danger, and we've all made stupid decisions, me especially. I just- I just wish you'd talked to me."

There's a silence, broken only by Dean's glass slamming down on the table. Sam flinches at the sound, but he's relieved when Dean doesn't immediately get up to refill it.

"We were kind of busy," Dean eventually says, voice low and almost ashamed.

Sam shakes his head. "Dean, for crap like this? You make time." He huffs a short laugh, then looks down at the table. "God knows I wish I had."

He knows he's made a mistake as soon as the words leave his lips, and Sam winches inwardly. He feels more than sees Dean go still, his eyes searching Sam's face for answers. Sam clears his throat and tries to brush the comment aside - this conversation is supposed to be about Dean, not him - but Dean's not having any of it.

"What do you mean?" he asks sharply, then his face clears. "This is about Lucifer, isn't it?"

"Dean-"

"Answer the question, Sam." Dean's tone doesn't leave any room for argument, and Sam swallows apprehensively. Deep down, he knew before he started it that this was inevitably going to come at some point in this conversation, but he'd chosen to ignore that fact. Kind of hypocritical, he realises, but he supposes that what's done is done now.

"Part of it is, yes," he admits, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"And the rest?"

Sam hesitates because he really, really, doesn't want to have to go into all of this. It's all old history, long since compartmentalised and buried in his mind, and he's sure that digging it up would not be a good idea, for him or for Dean. But Sam knows his brother, and Dean is like a dog with a bone - he's not going to let this go until Sam spills. Which is fair, seeing as Sam was going to do the exact same with Dean. He shrugs and hides his trembling hands under the table.

"Meg," he says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. He dares to glance at Dean's face, and almost sees the cogs in his brain turning as he remembers that week oh so long ago when he'd killed that hunter, had almost carved up Jo. He doesn't blame Dean for forgetting. Sam's tried often enough.

He takes a shaky breath before saying the next name, focuses his gaze anywhere but Dean. "Gadreel."

Dean does react this time; even out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees the way Dean's face contorts into a grimace at the reminder. A twisted part of him is pleased at Dean's discomfort, but he's careful to keep his expression neutral. It's not fair of him to still hold it against Dean after all this years.

"Oh," Dean says. He seems to be having a hard time looking at Sam, too. "Sam, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- With Gadreel. It wasn't..."

"Dean, it's fine," Sam interrupts. He doesn't want this to be any more awkward than it already is.

Dean just glares at him. "Shut up, man, I'm trying to apologise here."

Sam quietens, glancing nervously between his brother and the table.

"I shouldn't have done what I did," Dean acknowledges. "I knew it wasn't what you wanted, that you'd rather die than let something else possess you. I was just so desperate, and I wasn't thinking straight, and the angels had fallen, and I- I was selfish. I know that's not an excuse. Possession is..." Dean trails off and clears his throat, taking a moment before continuing. "It's not something to dick around with, I get that now, and what I did was cruel. I didn't think about you, Sammy, and for that I'm sorry."

Sam closes his eyes, nodding quietly. A barrage of memories bubble to the surface - his hands killing Kevin, pinning Dean to the Bunker wall, bringing Charlie back - but he pushes them down, shoves them back into their box. "Thank you," he says roughly, overwhelmed with the relief his brother's admission had given him. Dean lets him sit for a minute, then arches his eyebrows expectantly.

"Are we done here?" he asks. "Because, you know, I could really do with some sleep."

Sam smiles. "Not quite."

Dean groans again, but this time there's no annoyance in his tone. "Alright, what else?"

"Dean, what you said in the car, about that- that drowning. I understand. Gadreel, he just shoved me into a dusty corner, it was only after when I started remembering what he did. But Meg and Lucifer... They liked to keep me awake for some of it, Lucifer especially, but when they got tired of me fighting them, they would... Well, it's like you said. Drowning."

There's a lump in Sam's throat, and he gives up trying to force words past it. There are no words, really.

"Why did you never tell me any of this, Sam?" Dean asks softly.

Sam shrugs. "Same reason as you, I guess. I didn't feel like I could talk about it, so I didn't. And then it became too awkward to bring up, so I kept not talking about it."

Dean nods in understanding, and they fall into a companionable silence. Sam breathes out shakily. He hadn't expected the direction this talk would take, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't glad for it. There's a weight on his shoulders that he's been carrying for so many years he's almost become used to it, and, although it isn't completely gone, he's thankful that he's finally able to share the load.

Hi I'm still bitter over Gadreel can you tell. Thanks for reading this, and please leave a review if you have a moment!