He stares down at his brother's unconscious form.
Dean's lashes fan out against pale cheeks and his mouth hangs slack. Sam looks at him for the longest moment and then he bends down and gets his brother into a fireman's carry without even breaking a sweat. He looks around once – twice – for danger and then he turns his back and strides out of the door.
His brother opens his eyes and looks at him with shock, horror, but never fear. He watches without a sound as Sam slashes his skin, drinks salted holy water and stands before him like some sort of miracle.
The hug is warm but to Sam it feels perfunctorily; there are a myriad of emotions crossing Dean's face but Sam feels nothing, makes himself feel nothing, buries it down deep like he has for a whole year and he holds Dean loosely.
Dean rages; he expected him to and he listens. He explains – rationally – he thinks – that he wanted Dean to have normal, that Dean had normal, that Dean was happy and he needn't worry because Sam was not alone.
Dean rages at Bobby; he is angry and Sam understands why. He guesses he would feel the same but he doesn't feel anymore so it doesn't matter. He swallows down anything he might have to say and refuses to talk about the cage or hell. He remembers Dean doing the same and – despite the fact that it never worked – he clams up and holds his tongue.
The odd thing that nearly – so nearly – breaks him is the offer of the Impala. He stares at the key and he remembers, remembers that day in Stull, remembers the sunlight and the reflection of chrome. Remembers army men and scratching out his name, remembers his brother's wrecked face and his constant reassurances.
Sam cannot take the car; he wants to – God he wants to – but if he takes that key he will break and his walls will crumble and Dean will want to come back and protect him again.
He wants that – he wants that – but he keeps his feelings clamped in the cage he has made for himself, a cage he never really escaped.
Sam is back – but that doesn't mean that Dean has to be…
End