A/N: I suck at titles...like really bad. I wanted to think of something clever for this one but in the end I went the easy route because clever titles are not my thing. I hope the purpose of this fic comes across...and there is a purpose, other than the really obvious one, although the really obvious one is the reason I started writing this fic and then it turned into something else. Okay, yeah, I'll shut up now.
We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
We'll have the bonds that we save
But we'll have the heart not to lose it
When Sam returned to the bunker, he found Castiel engrossed in the books he'd left scattered on the table. He had no idea what Cas could find so fascinating in those books. If Sam never had to deal with anything to do with demons again, it would be too soon. His whole life had been consumed by them and he'd thought nothing would ever be as bad as having demon blood running through his veins, until he'd seen his brother's eyes turn black. He'd rather die a thousand deaths than go through that again.
"How's he doing, Cas?"
Cas closed the book he was reading and rose from his chair. "He's sleeping."
Sam glanced at the loaded bags of take-out he held in both hands. "Guess this will have to wait."
Cas smiled. "I'm sure he'll be starving when he wakes up."
"Thanks for keeping an eye on him while I was gone."
"Not a problem, Sam. I'm going to head out, if you think you'll be okay."
"Uh, yeah, sure….hey, I meant to ask you….is there a woman in your car?"
"Yes, that's Hannah."
"Hannah? As in the Hannah who wanted you to kill Dean?"
"It's a long story, Sam, and I think you have bigger concerns right now."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, the Mark, I know."
"No, you misunderstand. I think your biggest concern right now should be getting some rest. You and Dean both need it, especially you. I can see what a toll this has taken on you."
"I'm fine, Cas."
Castiel sighed and muttered under his breath: "And Hannah wonders where I learned that from."
"What?"
"Nothing. I'll check on you both in a few days."
"Thanks, Cas…for everything."
Castiel patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and headed for the door. Sam carried his take-out bags into the kitchen and deposited them in the fridge. He pulled a plastic encased piece of pie from one of the bags and rummaged in the kitchen drawers to find a fork before heading for his brother's bedroom.
Sam knocked softly on Dean's bedroom door before pushing it open. His brother was curled up on the bed, fully dressed except for his boots, which lay in the floor where he had kicked them off. Sam placed the pie on the table next to Dean's bed where he could see it when he awoke. He glanced around for a blanket but Dean was lying on top of the covers. Sam retrieved one of Dean's jackets that was thrown over a chair, covered his brother with it as best he could and stared down at him for a moment. The last time he'd stood in this room staring at his brother, Dean had been dead. Sam blinked back tears. These past few weeks had been some of the longest of his life. He just wanted to forget it, just for a little while. It was time to get drunk.
Dean risked opening one eye when he heard Sam shut his bedroom door. Sam had left the room but there was a huge piece of pie on the bedside table. Dean grinned in spite of himself. Sam was trying but Dean knew how hard this must be on him. Only hours before Dean had threatened to kill him. He could only imagine how that made Sam feel because he knew how sick it made him feel.
The past few weeks were hazy but things were starting to come back a little at a time. Dean wished he knew a way to shut it off because he was pretty sure he didn't want to remember all of that. What he'd managed to remember so far was enough for him to know he could never make amends…not ever.
He shuddered as another memory fell into place, the memory of swinging a hammer at Sam's head. If Cas hadn't shown up when he did…Dean pulled the jacket tightly around himself but nothing could take the chill from his heart. He could have killed his brother.
I was a monster. I am a monster. That was all me.
Dean didn't know how he was supposed to live with this but somehow he knew he would….for Sammy. Sam had saved him and he'd put himself through hell in order to do so. But what if Sam could never forgive him for the things he had done?
A tear slipped from his eye and he angrily wiped it away.
Suck it up, Winchester.
I always do.
Sam carried his bottle of whiskey to the dungeon and collapsed into the chair Dean had been tied to earlier. The ropes were still there and Sam's mind flashed back to the image of Dean strapped there…..his brother….but not really his brother. His brother would never have said all those horrible things to him. Horrible things….but true. If Sam had never been born, their Mom would still be alive. It's something he'd thought about for years. It stood to reason Dean had thought about it too. His brother Dean would never have said it out loud but demon Dean had no problem enlightening him and it had cut Sam to the core.
Sam took a long drink from the bottle in his hand. Demons had taken everyone he ever loved…..his Mom, Dad, Jess…..and finally Dean. When he'd first seen Dean's black eyes on the convenience store footage, he'd felt as though a knife had plunged right into his heart…..in fact, a knife probably would have hurt less. Dean had become the very thing he'd always abhorred….the very thing that had turned their lives into a living hell.
Sam had vowed to save his brother or die trying...and he'd done it. For once in his life, he'd come through for Dean but he feared a part of him may have died while trying. The part of him that still followed a set of rules….the part of him that had compassion…..that part of Sam Winchester had fallen somewhere by the wayside and he didn't know if he could ever get it back.
How was he supposed to live with that? What had he become? Was he really the monster Dean had said and if so, what would Dean think of him now?
A tear slipped from his eye and he angrily wiped it away.
Suck it up, Winchester.
I always do.
Dean had been staring at the pie for hours and no matter how much his stomach rumbled, telling him that yes, he really did want that pie, he couldn't bring himself to eat it because his mind was too busy replaying the horror movie that had become his life.
He heard the door to his room open again and he quickly closed his eyes. He just couldn't face Sam right now…..didn't really know how he was ever going to be able to look his brother in the eye.
Something plopped down on the bed beside him and Dean let out a surprised yell.
"Oh, hey, Dean….s'ry."
His brother was drunk and apparently trying to climb into bed with him. Dean sighed and opened his eyes. "What the hell are you doing, Sammy?"
"S'ry. Habit. I slept here while you were….." Sam left the sentence hanging and Dean wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk or he just couldn't finish it. Either way, he got the picture. Sam had been sleeping in his bed.
Dean sat up and studied his brother. "You don't look like you slept much. Bed too soft for you?"
Sam's eyes filled with tears and Dean knew immediately he shouldn't have tried to joke with his brother, especially not when he was drunk and had just been through hell.
Sam cleared his throat and reached across Dean, clumsily grabbing the pie he'd left on the bedside table. "You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry, Sam."
Dean watched as Sam fumbled with the plastic container, finally ripping it open. He snatched the fork up and speared a piece of the pie. "You hafta eat, D'n."
Dean jerked his head back as the fork in his brother's hand came dangerously close to his eye. "Whoa, Sammy. Watch the silverware."
"You hafta eat, D'n." Sam repeated. "Please."
Dean had no idea what was going through Sam's muddled brain to make it so incredibly important for him to eat a piece of pie but it seemed to be something that would offer his brother some comfort. Dean reached out and steadied the hand holding the fork, guiding it to his mouth. With only minimal difficulty, he managed to swallow the pie. Sam grinned drunkenly and immediately had another bite poised in front of his mouth.
I can't eat all of that.
Suck it up, Winchester.
Dean sighed and once again guided the fork to his mouth.
When Dean swallowed the last bite of pie, Sam tossed the empty container toward the trashcan. It hit the floor and Sam lurched to his feet.
"Whoa." Sam held out his hands to steady himself as the room spun around him. Dean gripped his arm.
"You're very drunk, Sam."
Sam grinned at him. "I know."
"Why?"
Sam shrugged and jerked his arm out of Dean's grasp. His head was fuzzy and he didn't want to talk about this right now….possibly never. Dean had been through enough. He didn't want to add his own guilt to Dean's burden. He didn't want Dean to think he regretted anything he'd done to get him back because he didn't. He'd never regret saving his brother but he couldn't help the guilt he felt. He'd been willing to go to incredible lengths to save Dean. Lester was only the tip of the iceberg.
I was a monster. I am a monster. That was all me.
Bile rose up in his throat but he choked it back.
"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean's eyes were full of concern and Sam wanted so badly to tell his big brother that no, he was not okay. He was scared. He was scared of himself and what he'd become but instead he just nodded.
"'m fine."
Suck it up, Winchester.
"Yeah, 'm just fine."
Sam staggered toward the door but Dean held him back. Sam wasn't fine and Dean knew it.
"Sammy, I'm sorry."
Sam gave him a confused look. "For what?"
"For trying to kill you."
How could he have tried to kill his brother? Where did that part of him live and how could he rip it out? He would never hurt Sammy.
But you did.
"You don't have to apologize, Dean. It wasn't you."
"But it was me, Sammy." Dean's voice broke. "I tried to kill you. I'm so sorry."
"Dean, I don't care what you did. It doesn't matter. All that matters is you're here now and you're okay." Sam's eyes glistened with tears. "Please tell me you're okay….that we're okay."
There was so much pain in his brother's eyes and Dean loathed himself for doing that. Dean knew what Sam had done in order to save him. Crowley had relished telling him every last gory detail about his baby brother. Sam was suffering the guilt because of him.
"We're okay, Sammy. I don't care what you did. I just don't want you to feel guilty because of me."
"I don't regret it, Dean. I don't. I just wanted you back."
Dean pulled his brother to him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Sammy."
Sam clutched at him, trembling in his arms. "I'm so glad you're home."
They stood that way for a few moments, drawing comfort and strength from each other. When they finally broke apart, Dean grinned.
"What?" asked Sam.
"Is there any more of that pie?"
Sam returned his smile. "You want me to feed you again?"
"Hell,no! I almost lost an eye."
They both laughed and headed toward the kitchen, Sam staggering only slightly.
"You're a good brother, Sammy."
"I learned it from the best."
There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marching on
Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome! I appreciate feedback!
Lyrics are We're Marching On by OneRepublic.