I've been re-watching season 3 and really wanted more closer for the Mystery Spot episode so I wrote this, because I needed the boys comforting each other after Season 10 and it's coming finale which I am terrified for, thank you very much. Hope you all enjoy!

And on another note, I hope you all take time to send Jared your love and keep him in your thoughts to help him get through his current rough patch, because we all love him a lot and want him to feel better as soon as possible :)

The Heart of the Matter

A Supernatural Fanfic

It started with that stupid Mystery Spot. Dean still wasn't even entirely sure what had really happened there. All he knew was that Sam was acting really weird about it, there was the Trickster and strawberry syrup in the diner and then they got the hell out of Dodge as fast as possible. The problem wasn't so much that Sam wouldn't talk about it but that he just wasn't talking at all. At first Dean thought he was just tired and sure, the kid had been sleeping worse than he had that last few days, but after hours of silence in the car where he would do nothing but alternately stare out the windshield and at Dean in a creepy, not-normal-Sam sort of way, Dean started to realize that there was definitely something his little brother wasn't telling him.

That night at the motel, Sam slept on the very edge of his bed on his side, as close to Dean's as he could possibly get, and Dean wasn't sure he slept at all, and almost couldn't fall asleep himself because he could feel Sam's eyes on him. He was only going to let this last for so long before he had to get to the bottom of it.

He almost broached the subject when he was startled by Sam's near panicked look that instantly relaxed as he came out of the shower the next morning.

"Dude, what?" he demanded.

Sam shook his head, quickly grabbing his things and shoving them into his bag. "Nothing. Just tired."

Worry gnawed at Dean's stomach during breakfast. He wasn't really even hungry and Sam hardly ate anything either, looking like he was going to jump across the table and grab Dean's fork every time he took a bite. He hoped the kid wasn't getting sick or something, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. Something to do with the mystery spot. He decided it was probably best to wait a couple days and see if it either passed or Sam opened up about it. Wishful thinking, but he knew from experience that pressing his little brother would only make it worse.

Of course, two more nights with Sam watching him while he slept, and not getting a minute's sleep himself, hardly eating, and seeming never to want to be more than a few feet away from Dean at any given moment was really starting to worry and wear on the older Winchester. He couldn't even pee without Sam hovering outside the bathroom door. And he knew he was hovering because even if Sam retreated before he came out, he knew he had been there a few seconds before. It was kind of starting to creep him out, but he was more worried than anything. Worried about what exactly Sam wasn't telling him about the Mystery Spot. Something had gone on there and Dean was determined to find out what.

He had come to the last straw when Sam threw a conniption in the car when "Heat of the Moment" came on the radio, lashing out to change the station so fast, Dean almost ran off the road. He glanced over at his little brother in shock, Sam's jaw clenched, and breathing heavily. Dean pulled off the road and put the car in park, turning around to face his brother.

"Okay, Sam, what's going on with you? You've been acting weird since Mystery Spot."

Sam flinched at the mention of it. He shook his head, not wanting to be forthcoming.

Dean sighed. "Sammy, come on. I know there's something you're not telling me. You haven't slept for days, you're clingy; I don't know if you've noticed, but you haven't showered either, and you're really starting to smell. Just let me know what's going on so I can help you through this."

Sam shook his head again, lowering his head as his breath hitched slightly. Dean reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"Hey, Sammy, it's okay, I'm just worried about you is all."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam whispered.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me," Dean told him, trying to coax him like he used to when Sam was a kid. "Just let me know what's going on, you're not acting normal, Sam."

"I don't want to talk about it, Dean, please don't ask me!" Sam cried, turning away quickly, but not before Dean could see the shine of tears in his eyes. "I—I can't."

Dean sat there for a long moment, rubbing Sam's shoulder slightly. He was surprised his brother hadn't shoved him away and that told him something was very, very wrong. Angry Sammy was not clingy. This was a Sammy he was not familiar with much at all, at least not in recent years. Sure, Sam had been off and on touchy-feely since Dean's deal, but this was different and it only made Dean want to know about what had happened more. He began to worry that Sam had done something stupid; something to fix his deal and he knew he needed to know the truth before things went too far. He was not going to allow Sam to get into the same mess he was in.

But Sam was obviously in a bad state of mind right now, and Dean decided it was best to wait until they got to a motel that night before he broached the subject again. He was determined to get Sam to eat and sleep that night if it was the last thing he did.

"Okay, Sammy, but we'll talk about this later," he said as gently as possible, offering a comforting squeeze to the back of Sam's neck before he started the Impala again and continued on their way.

They picked up Chinese takeout for dinner and got a motel room. Dean watched Sam pick at his food with disinterest, and his heart sank further. He needed to know his little brother was all right and this was not doing anything to help that along at all.

He turned the TV on after they ate and Sam kind of sat on his bed but watched Dean more than he did the TV. Dean turned to him after dressing for bed. "Dude, you gonna take a shower or what?"

Sam just stared at him for a long moment before he shook his head.

"Well you need one," Dean grunted, getting annoyed, but also terrified. Sam was the one who always wanted Dean to talk about his feelings, he didn't usually have to push this much with his younger brother.

"Okay, you know what?" he said, turning off the TV and sitting on his bed opposite Sam and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You need to tell me what's up with you. Because you are scaring the hell out of me, Sam. Please tell me what's wrong."

Sam's lip quivered and he cast his eyes down. "I can't."

"Why not?" Dean asked, trying to stay calm.

Sam just shook his head, slumping and drawing into himself. Two tears slid down his face.

"Sammy," Dean called, leaning forward to grab Sam's wrists, offering some physical contact to see if that would help him snap out of it. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"I can't lose you," Sam whispered, almost too quietly for Dean to hear him, but when Sam looked up with bright eyes and crumpled features it broke Dean's heart and he got up to sit beside his brother, where Sam instantly leaned against his shoulder as if needing the contact to know he was there.

"Sammy, what happened at the Mystery Spot?" Dean asked gently. "You gotta tell me so I can understand. You weren't making much sense before."

Sam took several deep shuddering breaths, but finally started to speak. "That Tuesday just kept playing over and over again. And every day…y-you died."

"You said something about that," Dean said, still not really understanding.

"But I was the only one who remembered it," Sam told him. "And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't…I couldn't save you, Dean."

Dean put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here, remember."

Sam sniffed. "And then we caught the Trickster, and he broke the loop to go to Wednesday, and I thought it was over, but…but you still died, Dean."

"Well, I'm obviously here now," Dean coaxed, still not understanding where this was going.

"No, you don't understand!" Sam suddenly shouted, pushing away and turning to glare at Dean, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. "You died that Wednesday, Dean. For real. I didn't wake up that time, and I was without you for six months looking for the Tickster to fix what he did. I buried you! And I can't do that again!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean stopped him, holding up a hand. "What did you say?"

Sam chocked on a sob, shaking his head. He scrubbed at his eyes, as he fought to tell his story. "You were dead for six months from that Wednesday, Dean. I was alone, and I spent all my time hunting down the Trickster. I finally found him and I begged for him to send me back to that Wednesday again, and he did."

Dean looked at his brother in shock, horror washing over him at what Sam had gone through. No wonder the kid was messed up. He had no idea he had been living some alternate timeline where he was already dead and in hell for six months while Sam did nothing but try and find a way to bring him back.

"Sammy," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sam sniffed again. "I couldn't stand it. I wanted it to all have been a dream, but it wasn't. It was real, Dean, I really lost you, and I didn't like who I became. I can't…I can't do that again. I can't lose you."

Unable to resist another moment, Dean reached out and wrapped Sam in a firm embrace, feeling the other man shudder against him, his tears hot and wet on Dean's neck as he hands clutched into Dean's shirt. Dean rocked him slightly like he was still a kid, and carded his fingers through Sam's shaggy and currently unwashed hair. But he didn't care about that. He just needed to get his little brother through this, feeling utterly terrible that he was the reason for his current distress. How could he leave Sammy? Dean always thought that Sam would be fine on his own, that he could move on with his life like Dean never could. He had gone to Stanford, wanted to leave the hunting life, and Dean had been the one to drag him back into it. But maybe it had never really been like that after all. For Dean, he knew he needed his little brother; that he couldn't live without him. He was just one of those things: water, breathing, Sammy. But maybe Sam wasn't able to cope alone either, maybe he was more like Dean than the elder Winchester wanted to admit. He never wanted that, but if that was how it was going to be, then he knew, he truly began to realize, that he needed to work this out like Sam wanted. He needed to find a way to fix this because he couldn't leave his little brother alone.

"Sammy, you listen to me," Dean told him, pushing him back just slightly so he could look into his face, wiping some of the tears away with his thumb, pained to see how far Sam had fallen. He never cried like this, but he was so stressed and overtired and everything else that it was almost a relief to see him release some of the pent up emotion. He wouldn't even tease him about it. He gave his brother a smile to focus on.

"We'll get through this, okay? And I'm not checking out yet. We'll find a way around my deal, and I won't leave you, you hear me?"

"You can't promise that, Dean," Sam replied.

"Maybe not promise," Dean told him truthfully. "But I can try my best, right?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered.

"Just forget what happened, little brother," Dean told him, grabbing him a tissue. "It's over now, and I'm here, alive. This is real, okay?" He grabbed Sam's hands in his, squeezing them almost painfully tight. "I'm real, right now, right here."

Sam nodded and finally scrubbed the last of his tears away. "Okay."

"Good," Dean smiled, brushing the hair from Sam's forehead one last time. "Now, you hungry? Because you haven't eaten in days."

Sam nodded jerkily and allowed Dean to pull him to his feet. He managed to eat some of his leftover dinner and then to Dean's further coaxing, took a quick shower.

He almost instantly attached himself to Dean when he got out though and sort of stood by Dean's bed awkwardly without realizing he was doing it, watching Dean watch TV. Dean refrained from sighing and turned to smile at his little brother.

"Just come here, kiddo," he said.

Sam gratefully climbed onto the bed and sat shoulder to shoulder with Dean, making sure they kept physical contact. Dean wondered how long this would last, but decided it was the only thing he could do for his brother at the moment, and it was a small price to pay. Besides, he didn't really mind it. A clingy Sam was better than a brooding, angsty Sam.

After a while, Sam started drooping against him and Dean turned the TV down and slumped further into the bed. He didn't have the heart to move Sam. Besides, he hadn't slept in days and if the only way to accomplish that was for him to sleep next to his big brother, then Dean would let him do that. It had been years since this had last happened obviously, and he smiled ruefully at how much his kid had grown, but at least some things never changed. Dean pulled the covers over Sam and as the younger brother nodded off, Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his chest, resting his chin on the top of Sam's head. Soon his little brother was sound asleep and snoring gently for the first time in days. Now it was Dean's turn to stay awake, just to make sure he was there for his brother when he woke up just like he vowed to be there for him for years to come.

"We'll work this out, Sammy," he whispered. "Somehow."

Then he just sat and watched his little brother, lulled by his deep, even breaths as he gave a prayer of thanks that he was still able to do this.

For more brotherly angst, you can check out the story I'm co-writing with AnastaziaDanielle "Not Right Now" on her profile. We'd appreciate to hear what you have to say about it :)