Fighting Back

Chapter 1

After Meg had been driven out of Sam, Dean collapsed. His whole body felt like jello. He felt weak from pain and blood loss. He had driven non-stop to Bobby's to get to Sam before he could hurt Bobby or himself. He had only taken one of Jo's painkillers so that he could keep himself sharp yet keep the pain manageable, but it was wearing off and the full force of it was returning. Bobby helped him sit at his desk opposite Sam who had seemed none too worse for wear. Bobby brought Dean an ice bag to put on his face and he gratefully took it. A small sigh followed its placement on his left cheek. Sam had made a feeble joke about how crappy he looked to break the tension and Dean tiredly quipped back.

Dean could tell that Sam had other things on his mind and was trying to broach them with him. Dean just wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep off the last couple of days, but he knew that would have to wait. Sam was on shaky ground. When he had learned that Meg had possessed him, he had felt devastated. He had remembered killing Steve Wandell and other smaller memories were starting to filter through and they were just as scary. He remembered knocking Dean out, ending up at Jo's and everything he had done to her as well. Sam didn't know what had hurt her more, tormenting her about how her father had died or that Dean didn't share her feelings. He had really done a number on her. He would never expect nor ask for her forgiveness given all he had done. His worst memory though was of hitting Dean over and over again just moments ago. No matter how many times he had tried to block it out, he couldn't. What haunted him the most was Dean's lack of resistance to the beating he had gotten. He hadn't fought back, hadn't thrown a single punch, except at the end when he had thrown a brotherly taunt kind of punch. Sam didn't understand why, but he needed to know.

"Dean, I need to ask you something."

"Ask me what?"

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Dean grimaced from the pain in his shoulder as it radiated down his arm. He squeezed it close to his body to keep the jarring to a minimum.

"Sammy, it doesn't matter."

"Yeh, it does, Dean. I was hitting you over and over again –"

"You weren't. Meg was."

"All the more reason to fight back, to protect yourself. I – She could have killed you." Sam tried to correct.

"No worries, you hit like a girl anyway." Dean tried to joke.

"Stop kidding around."

Dean squirmed under the gentle inquisition.

"Dean, why?"

Dean took in a breath and sighed.

"Because I didn't want to hurt you, okay?" Dean said finally.

"What? But I was hurting you. You should have fought back."

"It wasn't you, Sam. I…" Dean swallowed heavily, keeping his emotions in check. "Can't you just leave it at that?"

"I can't, Dean. I keep seeing myself hitting you and I –"

Dean saw the pain in his eyes and sighed again, knowing Sam deserved the truth.

"Because I hit you."

"What?" Sam asked, truly confused.

"Back when we were looking for the vampires…in the parking lot…" Dean stuttered. "I hit you, Sammy…I have never hit you like that…and I've never wanted to hit you like that, but that night…"

Dean looked down at his hands. He saw them tremble then clenched his right hand into a fist from the memory.

"I was out of control, I know…but that's just an excuse. You're my brother. It's my job to take care of you, to protect you."

"You were hurting. You didn't mean to –"

"Don't, Sam," Dean said simply. "I know I lost it, but you were the last person I should have taken my anger out on."

Dean grimaced as pain hit his shoulder again.

"I know I've hit you before…"

"Yeh, like the night I took the Impala out on my date," Sam smiled at the memory.

Dean smiled wryly, "You mean 'stole', don't you?"

"Hey, I just 'borrowed' it."

"You hotwired it, Sam," Dean corrected.

"Dude, you were ready to kill me."

"Yeh…" Dean said as they shared a smile, but his quickly faded.

"What?" Sam asked quietly, knowing the moment was gone.

"But that night was different. I…"

"What, Dean?"

"I can't." Dean looked away.

"Tell me. It's okay."

Dean looked up into Sam's face, his own looking ghostly pale.

"Sam, it's not just about the punch…"

"Then what?"

"For a just a second…" Dean swallowed thickly, "I hated you, Sammy."

"Dean, I shouldn't have confronted you like that about Dad. After what he did –"

"You didn't know that."

"You could have told me," Sam said.

"I couldn't. You were coping with Dad's death and I…all I could feel was empty…I couldn't… I just couldn't bring you down with me."

"Dean, you loved Dad. You were in a world of hurt. I understand that."

"Sam, you gotta know that I don't hate you. I don't. I hated myself."

"I know you don't hate me, Dean. I just wished you could have felt that you could talk to me about it. Being there for each other, it's what brothers do for each other, man. It's what you've always done for me." Sam said, emotion in his voice. "It still doesn't make it okay for me to wail on you and for to you not to defend yourself."

The pain ran deep and it was something that he still hadn't gotten over. Dean turned away for a second then looked back.

"Sam -" Dean started.

"I could have killed you, Dean," Sam said, his voice a hushed tremor.

Dean was struck silent for a moment at the raw guilt and sincerity in Sam's voice.

"I could hurt you again…maybe even kill you the next time. Nothing scares me more than that. I don't know what I'd do if -"

"Listen to me, Sam. You have NEVER hurt me-"

"You know that's a lie, Dean," Sam said with a touch of resignation in his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know." Sam just said simply. "When I shot you at the asylum."

Sam stiffened with a flash of memory. He saw Dean standing at the end of a pier, turning towards him to see a gun in his hand, a loud blast, then he saw Dean fall into the water below. Sam gasped.

"Oh my God, I shot you, didn't I? The shoulder…I remember now," Sam said with shock and disgust as the memory took hold.

"Sam -." Dean said tiredly.

"How could you keep that from me?"

"Because it wasn't you. You didn't shoot me. Meg did."

"Stop making excuses for me!" Sam yelled. "How can you let me hurt you over and over again and believe that I couldn't kill you? Hell, I'm wondering it."

"Because I know you."

"Do you?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean stared at Sam wide-eyed at his question. It made him angry that Sam would question his belief in him.

"Yeh, I do," Dean said emphatically. "You're not a killer. You don't have it in you and before you say it, you would never kill an innocent, not without a reason, not unless there was no other choice. Yeh, you've killed demons, spirits and other monsters, but you have NEVER harmed a person. Hell, you convinced me not to kill Lenore, remember? A killer doesn't do that, Sam!"

"I killed Steve Wandell."

"How many times do I have to keep saying it? That wasn't you."

"It was my hands doing it. It was my eyes watching the light go out in his."

"You were possessed, damn it!" Dean yelled then hissed as the pain hit his shoulder.

"I should have been strong enough to fight it! I should have known what was happening to me."

"That's a load of crap, Sam, and you know it. All the years we've been doing this job, you know that no one can fight off possession or can resist a demon's control over them. It makes you human, not evil."

"But you know that demons exploit weaknesses. I was weak."

"Not weak, Sam, vulnerable. There's a difference. Everyone is vulnerable."

"How is that different? It just means I can be gotten to."

"Bobby's charms will keep those bastards from getting into us. It won't happen again."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am."

"Dean, if you can't hurt me, how are you going to kill –"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"No, I need to know that you won't let your feelings get in the way when I become…when I need you to…you said it yourself…you'd rather die than kill me."

Dean rubbed his hand across his face and hair in tired frustration. He felt the heat of his skin and the beads of sweat, but he kept silent. He knew that his body would soon betray him anyway. His mind was busy trying to find the words that would get through to Sam.

"And I still would. I won't apologize or regret saying it," Dean said determinedly as he looked into Sam's eyes unflinchingly.

"Then how –"

"You have doubts about yourself right now. I get that. I've been there. Hell, having a girl inside me for a week would give me the freaks, too, but you will NEVER convince me that I should doubt the kind of man you are. Never, do you hear me?" Dean said firmly, trying to drive the point home. "You can fight this. Instead of wasting time questioning whether you can or not or if I can kill you or not, maybe you should try to see yourself the way I do."

Sam peered into the piercing gaze of his brother. It bore into him with a ferocity he didn't think he could feel from just a look. Still, Sam could see Dean was in serious pain, holding himself together through his indomitable will, but he could tell he was slowly losing control.

"You're strong, Sammy. I don't know how else to prove it to you other than telling you that I know it as sure I know that we will always be brothers. It's that simple."

Sam watched, as Dean never looked away from him when he spoke his words. He couldn't help a shaky smile creep onto his face. His brother's unwavering belief in him palpable, giving him the strength he could always count on whenever he needed it.

"Guess we're kind of stuck with each other then, huh?"

Dean relaxed his stance and took in the breath he had been holding, waiting for Sam to say something. Along with the release, he felt all that he had been holding back breaking the surface of his weakening control.

"Afraid so," Dean said then closed his eyes and squeezed his shoulder. Sam could see that the pain was getting worse and he was worried that something else might be wrong. "'Til death do us part."

"So not funny," Sam smiled.

"It's a little funny," Dean half-grinned half-grimaced.

Dean was in real pain now. Trying to keep control over it had exhausted him. He had no more reserves left to fight it off. He had gone too long after Meg had done a number on his wound. It had been bleeding steadily and he had felt the wetness underneath his hand. The combination of pain and blood loss was making him feel weak and woozy, two things he hated feeling.

Sam looked into Dean's eyes as he held his shoulder. How could he not have noticed the pain Dean was in? Sam knew all too well. He had been guilty of being self-absorbed for most of his life, often overlooking Dean's needs to satisfy his own, ignoring the queues that Dean had a talent for concealing, but Sam knew that if he had stopped thinking about himself for a change, he would've seen them written all over Dean's face.

He saw the exhaustion in his brother's eyes and went over to him. By the time he got to him, Dean was slowly going limp. Sam caught him before he slid out of his chair.

"Dean?" Sam asked, immediate worry etching his face when he felt how hot Dean was. Infection.

Sam gently lifted Dean's face up to check on him.

"Dean?" He called again.

Dean took in a difficult breath. He then opened his eyes barely into slits.

"S…Sam…" Dean struggled out before his eyes closed again.

"Bobby!" Sam called out.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.