"Look Dean, this is going to be the first time we know for sure where Metatron is. Let's take Gadreel to the meetup, make the exchange, then trap Metatron!"
Dean nodded a little vacantly, still staring past Sam's shoulder and then to his own bloody knuckles. Sam's eyes followed. It broke his heart to see Dean like this, crumbling under the weight of his own guilt. He looked so prone and vulnerable, his long legs stretched out loosely and his head leaned back against the concrete wall. So tired.
Sam reached out and tried to take Dean's hand, to wipe away the blood there, but Dean pulled it back right away, his eyes downcast.
"Dean, let me clean you up."
Dean just pulled his hands closer to himself and didn't say anything. He was rubbing the Mark on his arm again. Sam's mouth tightened. He hated seeing that mark on his brother. It made Dean different somehow, he knew it.
Gadreel remained unconscious a few feet away.
Sam tried again. He didn't want to leave Dean like this.
"Dean, c'mon."
"I can take care of myself, Sam, dammit."
Sam shifted and sat down instead of squatting. He was pressed against Dean from shoulder to knees, both their backs against the wall. Dean didn't react.
"I know you can. Can I just see your hand?"
Dean finally turned to face him properly. Sam could never understand how Dean's face could be so expressive. All the hurt and anger and helplessness was there for him to read openly. All the self-righteousness too, sometimes. Dean still wouldn't understand why Sam couldn't forgive him. That didn't mean Sam didn't love him anymore though. Sam just wanted his beautiful brother back. He remembered so many different versions of Dean- the bad-boy teenager, the freckled Superman who bicycled him to the ER a hundred lifetimes ago- and a thousand lifetimes ago a shock of blond hair above his crib.
Sam couldn't stop loving Dean any more than waves could stop rolling in from the sea. Yes, he was hurt and he couldn't forgive Dean for letting Gadreel possess him, but that didn't cancel out the love he felt for his brother.
He gently reached out and took Dean's bloody hand and began wiping the blood off with his sleeve. Dean watched silently, his lips working like he was trying not to cry. He let Sam touch his hand without pulling back this time.
They didn't say anything else. Dean let Sam wipe the blood off his fists, then the brothers stood up together and began getting ready to meet Metatron.