Title: Silent Tears
Author: Tigergirl
Rated: M, just in case
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I do not gain any profit or benefits from writing fan fics of any kind.
Summary: 11x17 Aftermath "Red Meat" Oneshot. Dean came close to losing Sam for good.
Dean had lied.
Dean wouldn't say it, but last week had scared the piss out of him. Coming back to find his brother lying dead on the floor had struck a nerve in him. It felt like the werewolves had torn out his heart yet he was forced to still function with the empty throbbing in his chest. Dean could have sobbed in relief when he had answered his phone and heard Sam's voice on the other end.
Now they were back at the bunker and Dean winced every time he saw Sam just walk into the next room. Sam would clutch his hand over his injury and take things slow as he came into the room. One particular moment had made Dean bolt from one room to the next. Sam had dropped his bowl in the kitchen which had emitted a loud, gun-like bang. Dean had flashed back to that moment when the werewolf shot Sam and he had reacted.
It had been a relief that Sam had his back to him when he appeared in the doorway. Shaking the image of a bleeding Sam out of his head, Dean had found things normal in the kitchen. He had retreated out of the room before Sam could find out what was going on.
But he had. Sam knew his big brother wasn't okay. He knew he hadn't really been thinking about how to redecorate Sam's room at the bunker. He also wasn't sure what his brother had done, but he knew he had done something.
Their relationship was straining, as they were both on edge and refusing to talk about the whole incident. Both were suffering from lack of sleep. Dean was constantly up, checking in on his brother who always appeared to be sleeping well. Except Sam slept with his back to the doorway and feigned sleep.
/…/
"Dean."
The older hunter glanced up at the doorway to find his brother standing there with his hand on his stomach. He immediately sat up from his relaxed position.
"Sam?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. He knew Dean had instantly thought the worst. He wasn't sure how to bring up what he wanted. Thankfully, big brother seemed to be quick on the uptake today. Dean stood up and threw the blankets back.
"Come on over, Sammy. But you kick me and I'm shoving you on the floor," Dean growled at him.
Sam ducked his head to hide his smile. The bed wasn't really made to house two bodies, let alone the two large bodies of hunters. They shifted around, bumping arms and everything else until they finally found a comfortable position.
Dean was laid out on his back a little off center. Sam was curled into him with his upper body resting on Dean's chest and stomach. Most of his weight lay on the stomach so Dean didn't have any difficulties with breathing. It was the most comfortable position for Sam and his injury.
Dean knew his brother had not been sleeping well with how quickly he fell asleep now. He kept one hand down resting on his brother's shoulder and the other underneath his own head. He woke up a few times when Sam let out a small grunt of pain or tried shifting. Dean's hand would slip up from the shoulder and rub a thumb over Sam's ear. It was an old trick that had worked when Sam was a kid and couldn't sleep because he was sick.
It still worked as Sam fell back asleep each time. Despite the stirrings of his baby brother, Dean slept better than he had in the last few nights. He was alive. Sam was alive. They were going to get Cas back and they would defeat the Darkness.
It would be several nights of this new routine before Sam finally worked himself up to question Dean about the hospital.
"What did you do at the hospital, Dean? The truth?"
He had expected a refusal to talk about it or even a change in conversation. However, Dean had surprised him in telling the truth. The bigger surprise was what the truth was. Dean had been forced to endure the biggest of all bitch faces followed up by a stern reprimand and a long bout of silence.
The silence had been broken a few days later when Sam had been coming out of the shower and had a bad fall. Unable to shout for his brother, Sam had managed to knock his cell phone down from the bathroom counter. Dean had been down in the garage working on the impala when his phone rang. He frowned when he saw his brother's name on the Caller ID.
"Sam?"
"Dean, I can't get up. I fell coming out of the shower."
Dean dropped what he was doing and made for the doorway.
"I'm coming, Sam. Sit tight."
Sigh. "No, Dean. I thought I'd go dancing."
Dean chuckled before hanging up his cell. When he reached the bathroom, he found Sam lying flat on the ground with a towel wrapped around his waist. Dean was quick, but careful with helping him to his feet. He had him sit down on the closed toilet so he could look him over. There were a few good bruises that were sure to darken along where he had fallen.
Stiff and wincing in pain, Sam was unable to dress by himself. Dean helped him to step into some sleep pants before departing to make them dinner. After dinner and a good shower of his own, Dean lay down to rest in his own bed. He was only half asleep when he heard the door creak open and close. It was a moment later when he felt a familiar weight climb onto the bed.
Dean smiled as his hand came down to rest between his brother's shoulder blades.
"Night, Sammy."
Silence.
"Night, Dean."
The End