When Dean finally came back, he looked broken-even more than before. His eyes were sunken in, and his face was sallow and angular. Sam watched him come closer, pulling his old duffel out of the back seat of the Impala. Sam made no move to help, but he didn't let his arms fold up, and he took care to keep his face open and not angry.
He was still angry. He was. But, he was feeling better for the first time he could remember since...hell, he didn't know when. And Sam had appreciated the talk with Cas, more than he'd expected. The understanding felt good.
And all this translated to him making an effort to forgive Dean. So, he was going to try.
Dean approached, looking whipped and wounded, and like he was expecting more. And outside the tamped down anger, Sam felt his heart break.
"Hey, Dean." Sam said, as neutrally as he could. Dean met his gaze, and the fear and pain there almost bowled him over. He twitched his face like a smile.
"Hi, Sammy," Dean murmured. He offered no explanation as to why he was back, or what he'd been doing. Sam felt that old itch to check him over head to toe for injuries he'd invariably hide. Or to just pull him into a hug and make sure he was really there. Neither of them moved towards each other, though. Dean swallowed, and continued in a slightly less rough voice. "You look better."
Sam smiled, and nodded. He was good. No madness, no trial stuff, no extra grace.
"Yeah, Cas healed me up completely."
Dean nodded, and his eyes flickered around. Sam knew that the space around him, on the steps of the bunker should have been filled with the rest of the people who loved Dean. But Kevin was dead, and Charlie was gone, and Cas-
"Where is he?" Dean asked, trying too hard to sound casual.
Sam winced slightly, and watched Dean's eyes shutter, his pain break across his face and Dean trying hard to hide it. Yeah, Cas was gone again. Always the way it went with these two, wasn't it?
"He's flown the coup, then?" Dean said, turning half to the side. Sam pulled out what he had in his pocket, a slip of rolled up paper.
"He left a note." Sam said, handing it to Dean. "He said there was something he had to do."
"Ain't that always what he says."
Dean crumpled it in his fist without reading it. Then, he tugged a smile onto his face, and reached out to Sam to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder.
"I'm glad you're alright, Sammy."
Dean moved to go past him, into the bunker, like they were never going to bring up the fact that he'd been gone at all. Like he was just going to ignore whatever had happened that made him look so ill, and shattered. Sam bit the inside of his cheek, and grabbed at Dean's elbow.
"Dean... are you...?" But the words wouldn't come. Dean shrugged, and tugged away, disappearing into the bunker. Sam watched him go in, and felt that old frustration swell in his chest. His stubborn idiot of a brother would do what he always did, and Sam in turn would act like nothing was happening like he always did. Nothing would change.
No...he remembered what Cas had said. Even stubborn, pigheaded, Winchesters could change. Even Dean could change. But, he wished Cas were here to say to Dean what he couldn't. To give Dean what he needed.
"Castiel," Sam started, under his breath. He assumed Cas could hear prayers again, but he hadn't prayed to Cas in over a year or two, and he felt a little awkward. "I know whatever you're doing is important, it's just... Dean's home, but he's not better. He needs you, Cas. Just...come back soon."