Season 4 - Another look at what might've happened right after Dean told Sam about hell.
When Dean stopped talking, the silence pounded inside Sam's head. What could he say? What could he do? The enormity of what Dean had said paralyzed Sam with guilt and horror and despair. What could he possibly do or say to help?
He thought back over his life, especially the last three years with Dean. Sam had had his own share of torment these past few years. Nothing that compared with what Dean had suffered in hell, there was no comparison now, but it had nearly crushed Sam at the time. What had kept him upright and breathing under the weight of it all?
His big brother Dean, who even now was trying to stop crying and gain some control over himself. Dean had been Sam's safety and courage through all of it. Any time Sam doubted, any time he felt like the demon blood was gaining ground, inexorably claiming him, turning him into a monster, Dean was there. Over and over he'd said and shouted and promised that he would protect Sam, save him, take care of him.
Sam had come to realize that Dean didn't feel as much confidence as he offered, but that didn't matter. His words, his promises, just his presence nearby were always enough to reassure Sam. So that's what Sam would do for Dean now. He didn't have to feel it, he only had to make Dean feel it. He set his beer bottle on the ground, stood up and squared his shoulders, and stood in front of his brother.
"Dean?"
But Dean didn't look up and Sam decided he didn't need to. He cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes.
"Dean, I need you to listen to me. This isn't your fault. You were tortured for thirty years. You haven't even been alive for thirty years – he tortured you longer than you've been alive. And I know you Dean; those ten years you were off the rack did more damage to you than the thirty years you were on."
Sam still got no reaction from Dean; he didn't look up or say anything. So he pressed on.
"You're not a monster, Dean. You wanna know how I know? For one thing, no matter – what – what happened -." He wasn't about to say anything even close to 'what you did'. "- God still had you pulled from hell. He still has a job for you to do. Whether you believe it or not."
That got a response – Dean shook his head and huffed in derision and looked even more away. Sam squared his shoulders again and pulled himself up to his full height. He never thought about being taller than Dean, but now he was going to take every advantage of it that he could. Nothing was going to get through Sam – not even Dean's own self-accusations.
"You wanna know what else?" He kept pressing. "I tried everything I could to save you from hell and I don't care if you got off that rack after ten years or one year or one day, I would still do everything I could to save you."
Sam desperately wanted to touch Dean, put a hand on his shoulder, hug him, just to make some physical contact with him. But Dean would push him away and probably get in the car and Sam wouldn't get to finish saying what he wanted to say.
"Now, these memories you have, these feelings you have, that you don't want to have, I can't even imagine how horrible they are, but they're not you. We will get through this. I will get you through this. You can't let this decide who you are. You can't let anything that anyone says make you forget that you're a hunter, that you have saved countless innocent lives, that you're my brother."
Still there was no reaction and Sam decided to pull a 'Dean' on Dean.
"You can feel whatever you need to feel and I will be here to get you through it. The nightmares, the memories, whatever gets thrown at you gets thrown at us and we will get through it. Okay?"
Finally Dean looked up. Of everything he'd ever said to Sam in their lives, things that cheered him, hurt him, confused him, scared him, bolstered him, made him laugh, for all of that, Dean looked up and said the first thing that ever truly broke Sam's heart.
"Thanks."
Tears slid down Sam's face but he didn't let it keep him from the roll he was on.
"So I'll tell you what we're going to do now. We're going to finish our beer, congratulate ourselves again for surviving these past few days. Then we're gonna get ourselves some dinner and a motel room and we're gonna get the first real sleep we've had in days."
Dean nodded and cleared his throat and ran his hand down his face.
"Sounds like a plan." He said. His voice was rough.
"Good."
Sam retrieved his bottle but instead of resuming his seat on the hood of the car, he leaned back against the door, next to Dean. They clinked bottles and drank their beer and didn't say anything. Sam wasn't sure he had anything left inside of him to say.
"You know -." Dean said and stopped abruptly and peeled at the label on his beer bottle. Sam leaned close enough to lightly bump shoulders.
"Yeah, I know."
The end.