Tag to 11.08 Dean goes silent after their short lived conversation about Sam going back to the cage. Sam thinks he's just being obstinate, but then...Dean isn't naturally lovey dovey or touchy feely, so what the hell is going on?
Spoilers for 11.08 "Just My Imagination."
Because I couldn't pass up the chance for a concussion!fic. And because it's my birthday!
MY BEST BY YOU
Silence reigned in the impala. Her familiar hum blanketing the boys senses and lulling Sam towards an uneasy sleep. Dean sat in his usual relaxed driving position, a careless looking hand on the bottom of the impala's steering wheel guiding her smoothly over the American asphalt. The classic rock he was so fond of (and his trick for staying awake) was playing in the background. But as the miles had disappeared under them and Sam's eyes had slowly begun to droop the volume had been dropping steadily. Now it was a mere buzz harmonizing with Baby's deep bass, lullabying Sam towards slumber and stimulating Dean's brain.
Growing up, hunting alone, driving beside a sleeping Sam...this was the place Dean Winchester did his brain work. Driving took almost no brain power, and with Sam asleep-the only person who watched him and read his very thoughts from his face-Dean was free to think clearly. It was something he had always saved for long drives in Baby. Even if he needed to think and they were hold up at the bunker with no case he'd climb into the familiar surroundings of the impala and drive off with no destination in mind leaving nothing behind to hint where he was going but a text to Sam saying he'd be back in a bit.
So with Sam sinking into slumber beside him, Dean's brain came to life, bringing up the things he'd saved for later...mostly about Sam. Because Dean came to grips with it long ago; he didn't bother himself much about anything unless it pertained to Sam Winchester. So yeah, oops, supposed savior of the world probably shouldn't be so one track minded, but what can Dean do? ...it's who he is. Its inscribed in his DNA, written on his soul from the beginning...hell, Dean's not even sure he's got his own heart, in fact, he's pretty sure Sam got custody of it.
Sully's appearance had definitely provoked some food for thought as well as surfaced some old memories. But Dean had to admit he was far more enthralled with Sully's reaction to Reese than curious as to what happened all those years between Sam and his "imaginary" friend. Frankly Dean couldn't hardly keep up with the drama between him and his brother let alone childhood sob stories.
Dean's first reaction to the zenna had been, understandably, hostile. You just hatch on Dean Winchester that a supernatural creature had been following his little brother around for all those years while Dean had been working his ass off to keep him safe? Probably a little yelling and skepticism was expected. And frankly, Dean was rather proud of himself, he felt he did exceptional.
But the thing that was bugging Dean Winchester's noggin was Sully's reaction to Reese's attack.
'"Whatever you need, Reesey," he'd said, willingly offering his life to her. Willingly accepting that if revenge was what Reese needed to keep going, to be fine, then Sully was cool with that too. And Sam had stood by, that sad puppy dog look on his face, unsure...lost, not positive what was right or wrong...
At first Dean was confused as to this, Sam, he was screaming, do something, SHE IS GOING TO KILL YOUR FRIEND!
Then it dawned on Dean what bothered him so much about Sully. He saw himself there. Saw himself in the codependency Sully had with his children, in the way all Sully's self worth came from what he could do for other people...for people he loved.
He knew then that Sully wouldn't stop Reese, would let her plunge that knife into him and he would die happy, convinced he'd done the right thing, that his life had been worth something. And Dean knew that look, that feeling, because he'd never been willing to kill Sam to save himself, never been willing to throw the first punch in a fight, never taken something for himself. It would be Sully's downfall, in the end it would be his too.
Reese and Sam were children, parts of them would always be children. Taking what they need when they needed it, it was the way they were raised. They ignored those who tried to help them, tried to steer them away from the things that hurt them. Because they had been so deeply loved they always had what they wanted, while others had sacrificed.
And it was people like Dean and like Sully who would always willingly pay the price for their happiness, and be HAPPY to do it. Because Sam would always be a better person than Dean. No matter Sam's demon blood, or Dean's "righteousness" Sam would be more than him. He was smarter, kinder...just, Sam was Sam regardless of life throwing all sorts of hoops his way. Sam was a good person...the best person Dean knew. You get Dean's point. Dean was driving hard straight towards hell, Sam worked constantly to better himself, to better the world. Dean knew it would end bloody for him, but he hoped he could make things right for Sam before then.
See, this is what he's talking about. Sam was ready and willing to go back to the cage to save the world, and not because he was stupid or not scared, but because it was the right thing to do, because he believed God was telling him to. Dean, he was scared shitless, and he was too selfish to sacrifice Sam for the good of the world, HE needed him.
Dean wasn't a fool, he knew that look in Sam's eyes, he was going to go back to that cage, he was going to get an audience with Lucifer. There was no stopping Sam once he go his hackles up like this, and Dean was working on getting himself used to the thought, so that he wouldn't hyperventilate and pass out as his brother interviews the Devil. But just then Dean doesn't have to think about that, his little brother sleeps peacefully and safely beside him cradled in Baby's worn leather seat.
Deal wonders when Sam and Sully parted ways. There were lots of times his little brother had changed drastically all the sudden over the years. (He chuckles thinking of Sam with an imaginary friend at college.) Sully had said he'd been there for Sam when Dean wasn't so when was that? All the years at college...(please don't let him have had a zenna following him around all this years at Stanford) There were those years him and his dad had had to leave Sam on his own while hunting a few times, that would definitely apply...Dean remembers back to Sam's first hunt, remembers the sinking feeling in his belly when Sam had smiled at him gleefully as he'd climbed into the backseat of the impala. Had seemed different, harder than before, had lost a bit of that childish twinkle in his eye...and Dean would bet money this was when Sam had parted ways with Sully.
Dean had kept Sam from hunting as long as he could hold his dad back, and if Sully really was the loving protector he claimed to be then he would have tried to keep Sam from hunting too. It made sense, so Sam had left Sully for hunting, had left Dean for school...saving the world...take your pick. Point is Dean knew how bad it hurt.
He thinks about all the times he thought about taking Sam and making a run for it, to hide in some little town from their dad and hunting and find a regular job and let Sam go to school and live his life...a lot of times. He'd thought a lot of times of giving up hunting and moving to Palo Alto getting a job and making a life for himself alongside Sam.
So Sully probably would have too. Dean knows he must have thought of it, make a run for it, get Sam safe away from hunting, from danger...from him. And then Dean does not feel well, like REALLY not well.
Who is he kidding? Three GOOD hits on the head is going to effect anyone. His stomach had been a little uneasy, vision only slightly swimming. He's had worse concussions...
But that thought...that thought of Sully convincing Sam to take off, to disappear into the masses of Americans...Dean probably would have never found him...would have lived his entire, miserable life thinking about what had happened to him, blaming himself, thinking that having Sam and hunting was better than hunting without Sam and leaving him open for harm while he wasn't present to protect him...and he's just now realizing how many times, over and over, he almost lost his Sammy.
Before he can even think about it, he's pulled the impala over, screeching to the side of the road, and is out the door on his hands and knees in dew-wet grass vomiting up what feels like his entire stomach. His head is spinning and he's feeling shakes overtaking his muscles and either he's a lot more concussed than he thought or he REALLY needs to get a handle on his emotions...
Sam was floating away on the familiar sea of Baby's purr and Led Zeppelin's scream, now reduced to a mere hint of music. He loved this. This had to be one of his favorite places he knew. Dean driving expertly, lost in his head, expressions washing over his face like he was making up for its usual inexpressive scowl. Sam beside him, is safe and content to let Dean make all the decisions, what do, where to go. From where his head lays, Sam can watch the trees silhouetted against the star speckled sky sweep by. He feels when Dean shifts on the leather, when he thumbs to the beat against the steering wheel. He gives in to utter peace, Dean's presence is soothing, their company together in his big brother's car is just...right, how it's supposed to be.
Sleep and lazy thoughtfulness are playing tug of war with his consciousness. It's just one thing keeping him awake...
Sam had stood and watched Reese and Sully, frozen. Before him stood the incarnation of him and Dean. But all the hurt and guilt and anger were exposed and ugly for them to see. Sam knows when he looks back at his childhood he doesn't see what he should. He really had been a jerk kid. Reese was angry over an accident, Sully had done his best, to protect her and her sister, to be there for them, but when he had failed he had given up.
Dean had done his best by Sam, yes hunting probably wasn't the safest thing in the world. But Dean had always taken care of him, protected him, and Sam had repaid him by turning his back without so much as an explanation and left to make his own life.
And no matter how much Sam disliked it, it was all thanks to Dean he got as far as he did. Dean made it possible fore him to graduate high school, had worked hunts all night to finish jobs before dad would notice Sam wasn't participating. He'd let him go off to school, but had always only ever been one call away. Had picked up with him where they left off and worked to heal their relationship afterwards.
Because no matter how much Sam wanted to think he hadn't, he had hurt Dean terribly when he'd let for school. And that was where Dean differed so hugely from Sully. He told Sully to shove off and he had, Sully had hurt Reese and he ran...not Dean. Oh no, Dean Winchester did not give up on Sam Winchester. He gritted his teeth and fought it out with Sam.
Stood by him through hell and death, let Sam cut his heart out when he'd decided to jump into the cage. And after that he'd fought skin, tooth, and nail to get him back, and the list goes on...
And how did Sam repay him? He said he had to go back to the cage, he said they weren't brothers, that he wouldn't save Dean's life, that this pattern of recklessly saving each other's life must stop...in other words telling Dean to go against his nature.
He watched as if he wasn't really there as Reese produced the knife, and Sully told her to take what she needed. That if she needed revenge in order to move on, in order to be alright, then to take it, to kill him and be okay.
And god, he saw himself.
Saw a petulant child standing in front of his loyal big brother saying goodbye...forever. Saw that same child raise a gun and tell Dean how pathetic he thought he was, saw that child unable to understand the endless measures his brother would go for him. The anger that Dean would sacrifice his life for his, would dare to put that guilt on him.
And unlike Sully Dean had stood for it each time, trusting that someday Sam would come to see how much he truly loved him, that he was right and that he knew what he was talking about. Hope that some day Sam would look down on Dean from his soap box and see the unfathomable depths of love and devotion. The love so deep it was ready to die, to bear humiliations and hurts just to be near him.
And as Sam watched Reese struggle with her emotions, the strength of anger so deep it cried out for death, he was disgusted. And for that minute he felt what Dean must have felt towards him all those times he'd been a selfish bastard. He caught a glimpse of what he looked like through other people's eyes and it made himself sick to his stomach. He looks at Dean where is slowly sawing through his ropes and thinks, how is he still here? How does he still love me so much? And revenge, who are he and Reese to yearn for revenge? The anger in Dean at being so dirtily repaid for the work and love he put into Sam must be phenomenal. The hurt that after taking care of Sam all those years, after giving him everything, giving up everything for him, that he wasn't good enough for Sam, that anything he did wasn't good enough for Sam.
God, no wonder Dean had self worth issues.
And then Dean is free and he's advancing towards Reese slowly speaking of revenge. Of how it's not worth it...and he doesn't sound like an angry man.
He says that Sully is not a monster, that he was there for Sam when Dean wasn't able to...he doesn't sound like a bitter man. He sounds like the same old big brother, with heart overflowing with love and pride.
Sam's eyes meet Dean's, therein their connection making words unnecessary.
Sam saying something like, I'm sorry, I don't deserve you.
And Dean something along the lines of, I'll love you through whatever and I'm not going anywhere.
It was then Sam knew he was going to go back to the cage...he had done it for Dean once, and he'd do it for Dean again. He did little for Dean compared to what Dean did for him, he had let the darkness out curing Dean, and he needed to be the one to trap again, to take that awful guilt off Dean's shoulders.
Dean did everything for Sam, because for some reason he thought that Sam was better than him, and that he'd do the world more good by being good to Sam. Don't ask Sam, he does not understand. He's spent the majority of his thirty-four years trying to open up the mystery lock box of Dean Winchester and he's got no where. Give him a big bad to gank, Sam to care for, and enough cholesterol to kill Sam on sight and Dean couldn't be happier. And lord knows, Sam just wanted to give that to him.
That was the way he liked it too, except for the cholesterol part, he'll pass...but you get the point. They were happy together as long as the world wasn't facing another apocalypse.
So Sam's fears are quieted as he watches Dean and Sully give each other an affectionately awkward farewell. They climb into Baby and start the drive back home, and frankly, Sam forgot about Dean's hit to the head.
Sam fell asleep knowing there was someone in this world that loved him. It was something he'd had all his life, but some days it just meant more to him. Like today. It made him feel safe and warm, and he was put to sleep with Dean's presence and the knowledge of his devotion and affection.
He was jarred awake by the car swerving suddenly to the curb of the road and he went to catch himself from ramming into Dean only to find his brother wasn't there, and the door was already open. The blast of cold air added to the adrenaline rush shocked him awake and he flew across the seat to find Dean on his hands and knees in the wet grass throwing up like there was no tomorrow.
He carefully swings his legs over Dean and slips out of the car and squats beside his brother, letting a hand fall comfortingly to his back and the other wipe sleep from his eyes. Dean's body gives a few more violent heaves and produces nothing but greenish phlegm. Dean raises a shaking hand to his mouth, wipes, and then repeats the motion on his jeans.
"S'm, y'lright?" He asks, and he looks dizzy to Sam.
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam answers, an arm around his brother's shoulders to guide him to lean against the impala's open door.
"Sorry," Dean mumbles, "Had to pull over all the sudden."
Sam chuckles, "Yeah, could have given a guy some warning."
Dean gives him a sour look and Sam laughs again, but sobers as Dean winces.
Shit.
He forgot about Reese hitting Dean...on the head. Sam would be the death of himself letting Dean drive injured.
He spotted the mottled bruise on Dean's forehead and his fingers went to graze over it. "How hard'd she it you?" He asks. Dean jerks his head away from Sam's fingers and looks sick, Sam grabs the back of his head to hold him still, but only feels two other large bumps under his hair.
Dean groans and Sam jerks his hand away.
"Dude." He states emphatically. "What'd she do to you?"
Dean raises a trembling hand to lightly touch his forehead, "She had this...club thing...got me twice with that, and smacked pr, pretty good on the glass." He winces, but smiles crookedly, "Cracked 'er window, dude." Dean lays his head back to rest it against the interior of the door, "Gotta 'ard 'ead, S'm," he full out grins and looks up at Sam.
It's then he provides Sam with a full view of his HUGE pupils.
"Woah, woah," Sam says, "Okay, apparently not hard enough." He wraps his arms under Dean's, "Okay, up we get." He grunts and stands, Dean goes with him and Sam finds himself bearing more of Dean's weight then he should. He glances down at his brother who has his eyes screwed shut.
"You throw up on me Dean, and I'll play AC/DC max volume all the way till I find a motel," he threatens. Dean just keeps his eyes shut tight and gives Sam a thumbs up.
"Alright, c'mon, in the back," he opens the door and Dean's eyes miraculously come open.
"'M not ridin' in th'back of m'own car," he objects getting some friction with his boots on the asphalt to push away from Sam with.
"Says the man who can't talk straight," Sam says dryly, "Come on Dean, I know your head's killing you. Get back there and keep as still as you can. I'll get us some food and find a room."
"We got beer," Dean supplies and grins goofily at Sam's bitch face.
"Get back there and shut your cake hole, before you say something you regret, Dean Winchester." Sam threatens, but helps Dean get in and slips out of his jacket to place it under Dean's head as a pillow.
"Fine...mom," Dean returns for lack of better insult.
Sam shakes his head and climbs into the front seat, he pulls back onto the road and performs a beautiful u-turn back the way they came, towards the exit signs.
"I was doing just fine until I threw up," Dean sulked from the back seat.
"Yeah, that might be one sure sign you're not doing so hot, Dean." Sam grunts, looking at him in the rear view mirror. Dean looks pale, his eyes still wide, and staring fixedly at the ceiling of his car.
Dean is quiet for minute, "I can't see where we're at," he states.
Sam sighs, "Pulling into...the very shady looking Ferris Junction."
"Ferris Junction?" Dean repeats. "Oh yeah, I 'member this town."
"Yeah?" Sam asks, "How come, work a case here?"
"Nah...was here meeting up with dad, this place is bum, and by bum I mean, you'd see more people in Buford, Wyoming than here."
"Ouch," Sam says, smiling at Dean's concussed conversation.
"Yeah, think dad probably did it on purpose, made me wait three days here for him." Dean shifts a little and grunts a little in pain.
"You alright?" Sam asks, pulling into world's oldest and dirtiest McDonald's.
"Yeah," Dean mumbles, voice consistently dropping, and Sam's crossing his fingers maybe this won't be as hard as a regular concussed Dean was. "Had worse."
Sam shakes his head pulling around the drive thru, "Just because you've had worse doesn't mean you're not hurt Dean." He reasons.
"Well it's true, I've had much worse." Dean says, sounding bitchy.
"Yeah, the time you were in the hospital for two weeks with vertigo." Sam states dryly.
Dean purses his lips and crosses his arms over his chest. Sam drives up to the window.
"Hey," he says, "I'll have a coffee, make it strong, and one of those chicken wraps and a medium fry."
"Get me a coffee," Dean says from the back. Sam ignores him.
"Alrighty," the guy at the window says, ringing up his order. "That'll be seven-fifty."
"Sam..." Dean whines, "...I want some coffee."
Sam hands over the money. "Shut up Dean, the adults are talking."
"That's a cherry ride you got there," the drive thru guy compliments, Sam smiles and opens his mouth to say it was his brother's.
"She's mine," Dean yells louder than Sam thought currently possible.
Sam gives the man an apologetic smile and shoots Dean a bitch face.
The guy hands Sam their order, "Good luck," he says, smiling understandingly.
"Thanks," Sam smiles and drives off.
"Good luck...to you," he hears Dean mutter from the back seat and smiles even wider.
He drives back down the street to the motel where he saw with a flickering vacancy sign. He pulls in and parks in front of the office.
"I'll be back, okay Dean? Just sit tight."
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles.
Sam locks the doors just for good measure.
He comes back with a key and sure enough Dean is sitting up doing his best to unlock the door. He gives Sam a bright smile as he walks up and unlocks the doors.
"Beginning to think you weren't coming back, S'mmy," he says cheerfully.
"Why?" Sam asks, a little sharply.
"Hello?...concussed?" He says, standing and leaning heavily over the frame of the car and breathing slowly with cheeks sucking in and out.
"Okay, weird," Sam supplies. And grabs their bags from the trunk, and the food from the front seat. "C'mon," he says, motioning with his head, "Better hold on just in case."
Dean nods sloppily and leans on the car until he's next to Sam and then places a hand on Sam's shoulder as both his hands were full. He's leaning a little heavy, and Sam decides the sooner he's in bed the better.
He unlocks the door and places everything down on the little table with two rickety chairs and then leads Dean to the bed farthest from the door.
"Give me my bed back," Dean demands.
Sam sighs dramatically and leads him back over to the first bed. Dean sits and Sam pulls the pillows up so he can lean comfortably on the head board. Dean's head hits the headboard gently and his once glazed eyes are now clear and sharply watching Sam's very movement, pupils shrinking way small when Sam flicks the bedside lamp on. And Sam knows he's hurting a lot more than he's letting on.
He shuts the door and then throws Dean a pair of sweat pants, "Change," he says. And Dean regards him with these big, pleading eyes. "You'll thank me in the morning, Dean," he says.
Dean sighs and changes his pants without getting up. He gingerly removes his shirts, and Sam hands him a pullover he'd brought on second thought. Dean put it on without comment and then leaned back against the head board in his former position.
"Here," Sam says, handing Dean the fry and taking the lid off the coffee and taking a satisfying sniff.
Dean takes the fries and frowns, "Why can't I have coffee?" He whines again.
"Because you're not the one that's gonna be awake all night waking your concussed ass up to make sure you don't become comatose." Sam snarked, taking another drag of coffee, and counting medicine out into his hand.
"Why do I have to eat fries," Dean asks, disgusted they're not drenched in chili and cheese.
"So you can take your medicine," Sam says, and brings over a cup of water from the tap with the pills. "Eat up," he commands, sitting by Dean's knees.
Dean lifts a lip in disgust as he inserts one of the wobbly McDonald's fries into his mouth. "At least if I was comatose I could have coffee," he grumbles.
Sam snorts, "If you were comatose I'd be feeding you a lot weirder stuff than coffee."
"You wouldn't dare," Dean says, looking up quickly.
"Don't test me," Sam provides reassuringly. "That's good," he says and takes the rest of the fries form Dean's hand.
Dean holds out his empty hands, "I can't even finish my fries?" He asks disbelievingly.
"Here ya go," Sam says, placing the pills into Dean's palm and handing him the water, "Take them, drink, shut up, go to sleep."
"God, you're terrible. Florence Nightingale would have murdered you," Dean reflects, taking the pills and drinking a little.
"Florence Nightingale was a devout, Christian woman, Dean," Sam says, taking the water and helping Dean under the covers and pulling them up to his stomach. Dean gives him a chilly look where he hasn't moved one iota towards going to sleep.
"Exactly my point." He grins cheekily at Sam as he rewards Dean's snark with an award worthy bitch face.
"Okay, c'mon, lay down." Sam commands standing up, waiting for Dean to scoot down. Dean complies begrudgingly. "Alright, there we go."
"Aww, are you tucking me in...nurse Ratchet?!" Dean winces as the rough pillow case rubs against his head. Sam pulls the blankets up over him with no comment and then turns to walk away.
"What? You're not gonna sing to me?" Dean asks, managing to look innocently sincere.
Sam knows the drill, Dean's trying to get him to come out and play so he won't have to go to sleep yet. If Dean is ornery healthy, injured he's even worse. Sam ignores him and goes about getting his laptop out and getting comfortable on the other bed with his coffee. He does his best to ignore Dean, and his efforts to get Sam to talk to him...
"The first thing I'm doing when we leave here is going and finding a Starbucks."
Sam decides this is logical and garners no response.
"This place is such a dump, you'd think that in twelve years it would have changed some, right?"
Sam thought that very much, but to agree would be to acknowledge Dean's presence and then he'd never go to sleep.
"Christmas trees are a fire hazard and that's why I always figured we shouldn't get one. You know?"
Now Sam can't help himself on that one, he glances over at his brother. Dean is lying just like he left him staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
Sam looks quickly away as Dean shifts and lifts a hand to rub lightly over his bruised forehead and then run over the back and feels the bumps. He winces and sits up.
Sam internally sighs.
"Dean, what are you doing?" He asks, moving to get up to, should Dean decide to stand.
"H'rts," Dean squints up at him. "S'm?"
"Yeah." Sam confirms getting up and walking towards him.
"Oh," Dean's face lights up, "Didn't know you were here." He looks honestly surprised, Sam knows the pain must be beginning to fade away with meds he'd given him.
"Okay," Sam smiles, "C'mon lay back down." Dean listens and Sam helps him lay on his side so there's no pressure on his wounds.
"Y'know, fires and all," Dean supplies as explanation for his doubt of Sam's presence.
"Christmas trees are fire hazards," Sam confirms. And turns to leave.
"S'm, don't go," Dean slurs, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm scared you'll leave," he whispers once Sam is sitting back beside him.
"S'mmy," he tugs again insistently, so Sam slips over him and onto the bed beside him, and props his head up on his elbow looking down on Dean's face.
Dean inches his head closer as if to keep whatever he's about to say between just him and Sam. Sam unconsciously leans forward to hear.
"Never wanted this for you, S'mmy," he whispers.
Sam is surprised speechless.
"I wish you could have Christmas trees," he added, looking relieved to have that off his chest.
Sam smiles. A big, genuine, Sammy Winchester, my-big-brother-just-saved-the-day smile.
"Thanks, Dean." He says softly.
Dean looks up at him in wonder, "'lways tried to do my best by you, S'mmy." He slurs, a hand coming up to touch Sam's face for just a second.
"I know Dean," Sam said, feeling an unexpected thickness in his throat.
"Tried to keep you from hunting," he adds, looking away from Sam. "Thought about taking you and making a run for it...but I never did."
He looks up at Sam with tears in his big, beautiful, green eyes.
"Did I fail ya', S'mmy?" He asks, tears silently slipping down and disappearing into his hair line.
Sam feels tears leap to his own eyes, "Dean, no," he says, for loss of more words, "No." He brings a thumb to wipe away the trace of sadness and pain from the young looking face of his big brother.
"You tried...tried to keep our family together, Dean. It's what you always did, it's what YOU DO." He grips Dean's shoulder and shakes him a little, just to drive home his words. "All those years me and dad were kicking and screaming the whole way and all the time you knew the best way was as a family and you tried, and you succeeded. Sure it didn't last long with dad, but me and you, Dean?" He motions between them and pulls Dean a little closer to him, "We're forever, man."
"'lways did my best by you," Dean mummers again, reaching up to wipe away another tear that was tickling its way down towards his ear.
Sam nods and smiles shakily, "Yes. Yes, you did." His hand stays consolingly on Dean's arm.
He watches slightly confused as Dean's eyes latch onto his face with infinite sorrow and confusion of his own.
"It never seemed to be quite enough, though, did it?" He asks, in a hushed whisper, as if to keep the dirty secret from the light of day.
Sam's heart breaks a little. But all he can do is pull Dean towards him and let him take whatever comfort he can from his closeness. Dean sniffs into Sam's shirt and finally relaxes. Sam keeps a hand on his back, thumb rubbing soothingly on Dean's shoulder blade. It's not long before Dean is sleeping deeply, face buried in Sam's shoulder with a hand drawn up under he is chin contentedly.
And it may be silly but Sam feels like their both a little safer when he lets a hand fall through Dean's hair and to hold his head a little closer. Dean snuggles in a little more and Sam smiles softly.
"Goodnight, Dean."
PLEASE LEAVE ME REVIEWS!
thank you