Hey guys :) … This should have been a drabble. Well… seems like it's a bit longer than that….

I owe nothing, but my spelling mistakes.

The story is placed after "Moriah". Dean and Sam have a conversation, after patching up Sam's arm. Sam has an important question to ask. Spoilers! R&R and enjoy the story :) … Written in Dean's POV.

Aftermath

„He didn't bring dead… demons back?" Sam's question comes surprisingly. He has been quiet for about an hour now. He had been quiet since we entered the bunker. "Right? Dead demons stay dead? I mean… those destroyed demons. They won't come back." Sam is rambling. Never a good sign.

I blink for a second, before I continue working on his arm. What did he think? Shooting God was probably the worst idea he has had in years. The worst idea in about a decade. He is lucky that he only has a hole in his shoulder.

"Dean?" He asks again, wincing a little when I press the needle that I use to sew him up through his flesh for the last time. He demands an answer. He is sitting on his bed, the first aid kit on his lap and he wants to talk.

"All done." I briefly touch the side of his head, my thumb brushing his temple. I don't want to talk. Not about anything that has happened. It is a fucking downward spiral. "Need painkillers?" I stand up, just to be pulled back by my brother. For a second, he looks like his younger self. He looks up at me with his stupid puppy dog's eyes, scared and frustrated, like he wants me to make it all easier. Yeah. Well. I can't.

Nevertheless, I give in. I sit down again. "Sammy", I start, not really knowing what to say. "Our situation is crappy enough. I don't think that those demons we destroyed will actually change anything." It is true. If hell is empty now, those destroyed beings won't change a lot. I am more worried about the ghosts that aren't attached to anything now. They are roaming free now and they are pissed.

"Dean", Sam gets pissed as well for some reason. "Do you think they come back. Do you think they could?"

I raise a brow and look at my little brother. He looks so scared. He is pale and his sweaty hair sticks to his forehead. His fingers are still gripping my arm. "Sammy," I breath out, when it hits me. "You're missing Crowley?" I manage a small smile, giving us both a chance to NOT have this conversation.

Sam lets his shoulders fall, his eyes still on mine. Okay – not talking is not an option. "I don't know, Sammy." I can feel a tremor wracking his body. He is worn out and needs sleep. Our fight against about forty zombies doesn't help his situation. "We don't need to think about it now."

He lets his head fall against the wall in response. I look over to him. "Dean", he repeats my name… AGAIN. I know my name, kiddo.

"Okay." I huff. "We gank her again, if she comes back. Don't worry about that. This time you can stab her. It's your turn then."

"Don't wanna get close to her." Sam rubs a hand over his face. "If she tries to get to me." He pauses for a second and I am sure that I don't want to hear more.

"Sam", I warn him.

"You need to stop me." Sam whispers. "You need to stop me from becoming that monster again."

"Okay stop it, Sam", I want to smack him. I don't do it, but I want to. "You wouldn't trust her again, so we do NOT have a problem."

"You would have said that the first time around!" Sam sits up a bit straighter.

"Sam", I raise my voice, one hand on his elbow, preventing him from standing up. "Things are different now. We don't have issues now. We figured out things between us years ago and we are okay! Right?" Okay – hearing it still wouldn't hurt.

Sam doesn't seem to feel like answering now. He just stares at me with sad eyes.

"Sammy", my voice gets even softer. Why does he always force me into these moments? "You've changed. We both did. I trust you. At this point I know that you've learned your lesson. I learned mine. We will be fine."

"I…", Sam tries to argue. Little shit.

"I believe in you. I believe in us." I smile briefly when Sam looks at me taken aback. He knows that I'm just throwing back his words at him. "C'mon Sammy." I run my hand briefly through his hair. "She is not our problem at the moment."

For a minute he just looks at me, before he nods. "Okay", he mumbles. "Okay."

I smile. Trust my little brother - who should be devastated about losing his faith in God - to be scared about me losing faith in him. I shake my head, before I lean more relaxed against the wall, Sam right beside me.

"Thanks for not pulling the trigger on Jack", he whispers after a while.

"Kinda got us into this mess." I shrug my shoulders, without moving away, shoulders brushing against each other for a moment.

"Don't care. It's good that you're still here." His voice is barely above a whisper.

Damn this boy and his chick-flick moments.

End?

Thanks for reading :)